Pre-Show Writing

[Zangya]

OOC: This is continued from "From the Ashes".

The press conference was loud, and noisy; the pair of Odd and Zangya flew in casually, as they believed was probably expected at an event where everyone who was gathered had seen people shoot light from their palms on a regular basis. Of course, there were those who would call it ‘magic tricks,’ but the green-skinned woman who had just arrived at her first glimpse of what Dante’s Abyss 2008 would look like didn’t care for any of the humans watching right now. Nay, it was simply her goal to please her savior’s wishes. Right now, he wished for her to be at this press conference. Nodding to her concerned look, he gestured towards the welcome desk—following his silent command, the Ader strolled up to the desk, ready to get this convention on a roll.

“Hello, I’m Zangya—I competed in Dante’s Abyss last year, and I’m here to speak at the press conference.” The woman sitting behind the desk looked up. Her lanky form could barely hold up the spectacles that balanced on her nose, so she pushed them up, attempting to get a better look at the woman with a jade complexion. She nodded, noting the competitor’s name. “Is that all you need? Can I go on up to the table now?”

“No, no sweetheart,” the scrawny, raven-haired woman halted, “I need your placement from last year’s DA—your number, you know, that type of thing.” She took the piece of paper out from under the clipboard, sighing as she filled in a few more places on the form. “You know, I’m glad someone came today.” Zangya looked down at the woman—the look on her face was rather puzzled. No one came? This was one of the first Dante’s Abyss 2008 conventions, and not a single person had shown up to please the hundreds of fans that were here? “Everyone else is off saving the galaxy or something. There’s some weird crap going down on Arlia, from what I hear.” The Ader was let down. She had hoped to meet some of the more famous competitors.

“You said number?” Zangya asked—the woman had made her lose her train of thought with her chattering, but she nodded, confirming Zangya’s memories. “Let’s see—I think I was number nineteen last year.” The woman looked up at her from behind her spectacles. She seemed… surprised, or pleased, at least. Zangya couldn’t understand it. It was as if the woman thought that her donning the number nineteen last year meant something significant.

“You were nineteenth place last year?” she inquired, “That’s impressive, for someone who’d never entered before. Funny, I don’t remember you being nineteenth place—in fact; I don’t really remember you at all. Bah, the tricks your mind plays on you sometimes, eh?” The woman chuckled, and suddenly Zangya understood what she had meant by number. She sighed, preparing to explain the misunderstanding—regretfully, of course, since her actual placement wasn’t as impressive as the faux one that the woman believed it to be.

“Oh,” Zangya recognized, “You meant placement—as in, what our actual place was, as far as order of death. That’s a bit different. You see, I thought you meant the number we were assigned. My placement last year, you see, was actually thirty-seventh.” The woman looked back up to her, her eyes staring over the spectacles again, except this time with more of a disdain and disappointment that when Zangya had announced the number nineteen. “I was accepted into the competition nineteenth, you see… and… well… I was killed eighth, making me thirty-seventh places behind Bardock. Not as impressive as nineteen, I know, I know.”

“Wait—you were thirty-seventh?” the woman repeated, as if attempting to discern this. “This is all I get? Thirty-seventh place? I spend weeks planning this thing, and the thirty-seventh place winner is the only one to show up. This sucks,” she muttered. Zangya’s cheeks flared an angry red, but she held it in.

“Hey,” Zangya argued, “I may have gotten thirty-seventh place, but I had some memorable moments on the show. I was, by far, one of the dumbest players in the game, and I got my face shot off—so you should go ahead and make yourself far nicer, because I’m the best you’ve got. I leave, and you’ve got nothing, lady. So go ahead and take me up to the podium, or else it ain’t gonna work out very well for you, punk.” There it was: the tough girl impression! It worked, too! Zangya could hardly believe her eyes as the rather puny, frazzle haired woman led her fearfully up towards the podium. Wow, she was even more of a chicken than Garlic Junior had been.

“And now,” the announcer mused as the convention got on its merry way, “In last year’s Dante’s Abyss, she got her face shot off by a shotgun, made friends with a backstabbing little goblin, and was killed by the man who would become the Dante’s Abyss 2007 winner—everyone, it’s last year’s thirty-seventh placeholder, Zangya!”

There was no applause.

Taking her opportunity, the Ader walked gracefully up the steps, knocking the announcer aside rather violently. She took her stand at the podium, cleared her throat, and said: “Welcome, everyone, to the very first Southern City Dante’s Abyss 2008 National Pre-Show Celebration!” There were small groups of cheers that arose from the audience, but nothing too spectacular. She was, to say the least, unsatisfied as of yet. “Alright,” she commented, preparing to challenge this mellow audience, “Let’s talk about last season. Like my good man over here said, I was not the most long-lasting contestant, but I think that by far, I was entertaining for my tenure. I got my face shot off—which I’m sure must’ve been a hilarious occurrence for the lot of you—and then I had the privilege of getting shot up by Bardock, the man who would soon become the Dante’s Abyss 2007 champion! Any Bardock fans out there?” There was a large cheer from one section of the crowd. “Good! It’s always good to have someone you support when you watch a reality show, am I right? I know that I supported Bardock when I was watching the 2006 season, so it was a privilege to be killed by him.” The crowd’s energy was rising—she could tell. “Then, I had that horrible choice of alliance—trust me; it doesn’t work out well to be aligned with midget goblins. No offense to any midget goblins out there, except you Garlic, but I just don’t think I could bear to align with someone who had a similar appearance. It’d remind me too much of him.” Zangya glanced over toward Odd, who was still standing at the edge of the pack. He’d spotted some police officers who had come to ‘watch.’ “But that’s enough about last year. Let’s talk about this year. I’ve got a new strategy up my sleeve this year—I’m planning to be more deceptive this year, instead of being aggressive like I was last year. Being aggressive is what—” she glanced back at Odd again, and saw the policemen running through the crowd “—is what killed me, and now I’ve got to run, so watch Dante’s Abyss 2008 and root for Zangya!” With this, the Ader left her spot at the podium, rushing down the stairs and in the opposite direction of the police. Well, this was going to be fun.

‘Great job distracting them, Odd. I didn’t even get to relay the message,’ she thought, and continued her rush towards the gates on the other side of the stadium. ‘Here we go,’ she signaled herself, and immediately kicked off of the ground, and using her regained ki energy shot herself into the air, darting into the clear, blue sky—she had escaped from the police. Now she just had to be ready for what Dante’s Abyss 2008 had to offer, because after this press conference, she could basically consider herself locked into competing.

There was no turning back now.