Didn't feel like doing homework, so I wrote this. It's a little cheesy, I think. Not that it matters too much, but this isn't canon in the slightest. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mickey slowly walked down the hallway of the airborne castle. His feelings were split. Part of him was happy, he'd finally be announcing for his favorite sport! The other part of him was nervous or perhaps terrified. He'd only heard of the Elite Overclass from people he had never seen again. As he finally approached the massive wooden doors, he was beginning to regret signing up for this position. He needed the money to have better chances in the newly instated population control lottery. Things started going down the drain after the Government decided the world was too full. Couldn't they have just moved them to the ground below? While he was thinking to himself, the doors opened as if by magic, but more likely technology. The clone hesitantly stepped inside to be greeted by a long table and the backs of four chairs facing towards the windows. "This reminds me of a movie, heheh ... Hiyo ..." His voice was feebler than he could ever imagine it being. A deep, booming voice escaped from one of the chairs closest to the windows. "Mister Cantor ... What do you know about the Elite Overclass?" It was unshaken, nearly robotic. It chilled Mickey to the artificial bone. "Uhh, a little ... N-nothing." "Exactly what I wanted to hear ... this means things are under control and the loose lips are staying shut." The man that was speaking pressed his lit cigarette into the arm of his own chair. "Sit, Mickey. There are four open seats." Mickey obliged, and took a seat closest to him. "Now, Mister Cantor ... what do you like most about Monday Night Combat?" The voice said, still as steady as it was earlier. Mickey was a little bit relaxed by this. "Well ... I love it all! I've watched almost every one of the Crossfire matches in person, the action, the thrills, and the teamwork! It's overwhelming! Churros, Bacon and delicious sports drink in the Vend-o-bots are an absolute must, especially since we are forced to purchase them or we are beaten until we do, and my favorite Pro is the--" "That's enough, Mister Cantor. I can see that you are the Superfan I am looking for. Does the name Andres ring a bell?" "He's my idol! I've watched his old recordings on those ancient Dee-vee-dees and practicing saying some of the things he's said. It comes naturally to me." Mickey spouted happily. "He's part of you, you know. His DNA was difficult to get our hands on, but we manage." "Part of me? I ... I was told my DNA was from nobodies." "We know, but fret not, Mister Cantor. Your luck is about to change. You're safe as long as you announce for us, if not, well, you'll be left to your own accord. Below." "Ohh .. Well, I wouldn't pass this up for the world, besides, it's only on Mondays, right? I'll have six days of free time!" Mickey said, faking excitement, trying to mask his fear. "That's right, Mickey. Do we have a deal?" The Elite asked. Mickey took a brief moment to respond. "We have a deal." -- Edit: C's and D's after/before messages are "'s. The majority was written in Word, this might be the reason.
