Europe, distant future. A meteorite impacted on the area of Russia, turning the area into a dead zone. Moreover, it emits a strange radiance which increases the impact survivors and their offsprings' endurance and strength, but also causing them to...
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England
I angrily rip the betting slip in my hands. Why? Because I placed a bet on Spartan, that's why.
I need something to calm myself down. A chocolate bar will do just fine. I try to overlook the fact there are already four empty wrappers on the floor. I unpack the chocolate and start to munch on it, but the divine taste in my mouth slowly turns bitter as I look at Nightingale on TV in front of me, bowing to the audience with her trademark emotionless bitch face.
How could I lose? I thought Spartan is a safe bet, even though Nightingale is the current Champion of Champions. I saw that guy's past fights. He's a beast, I tell ya. He almost never scores Clash points, that monstrous mechanical arm goes straight for Fatals. Also, according to his official profile, he has reinforced bones and has taken more Augments than you can count.
I thought he will finally be the one who will defeat that bird whore - but whoops, I was wrong. Needless to say, I have to admit the victory was well-deserved. That bitch is fast as hell and Spartan looked almost stupid when she started to fly. There's also something in her fighting style that freaks me out. Cold, calculated, merciless. She wouldn't hesitate to finish the attack even if the INF system wasn't active.
Okay, but that still doesn't change the fact Spartan lost and my twenty royals went down the drain.
The referees of the Italian championship ceremonially walk into the arena to give the Golden badge to Nightingale. It's fun to watch since her attire doesn't offer much places to pin the trophy, and even if it does, touching it could be considered inappropriate. After short hesitation, they decide to pin it on the part of her pelerine which partially covers her shoulders.
The commentator endlessly describes her awesomeness as Nightingale leaves the arena. Outside, there are already journalists who want "a few words about your feelings after the victory". This is where I turn the TV off. I don't fancy seeing it for a thousandth time - Nightingale's condescending monologues interspersed with detailed shots of her boobs.
I finish the chocolate bar which smothers my disappointment at least a little. I have to admit I'm a little addicted. Okay, highly addicted. I use sugar both to celebrate victories and cope with defeats. But even though I eat monstrous amounts of it, I'm still skinny for some reason. I like to think it's because of my flawless metabolism, but it's more probable the cause is the stress I face almost daily.
I really thought Spartan will win. I'm fascinated by brute force that crushes weaker enemies like used toothpicks. Or fights of two hulking Champions with enormous proths and reinforced bones. But that Nightingale is really bugging me. She's pretty tiny. So how come she was able to defeat so many Champions and climb on top? Does she take some illegal Augments? Or is it sheer willpower?
You know what? Fuck that. This is the last time I placed a bet on a brute force.
