Aero exited the teletubby with a grimacing look imprinted on his face. The machine, though impressively fast (it had transported him over 200 yards within the entirety of an inhale and exhale) failed to fascinate him.
Just a moment ago he was standing in an office room awaiting his departure to the event and now he was in a small lobby that was empty, with the exception of the pod he left from. The walls were blank and colorless; the floor naked. He walked forward. The lobby’s only opening was a hallway that extended further than Aero could see. It had a regal feel to it that reminded him of the competition he was leaping into. Its majestic undertone was almost a teasing feature that motivated him to win—maybe if he was victorious he could have a royal palace of his own.
He took his stroll down the foyer with mild annoyance (what was the point of such a long hallway, he wondered). On the left side of the hall were mounted pictures of past winners in Dante’s Abyss, incased in golden frames. They were all there—Android-18, from 2005; Raditzu, from 2006; and Bardock, from last year’s edition. One last frame was mounted next to Bardock’s image. It was empty. Aero stopped to ponder for a moment, but then simply ran a hand through his hair and continued walking.
Where the hallway ended another room began. This one, however, was not empty. Its walls were painted in vivid stripes of pink and yellow—an obvious decoration made by Karl Jaks himself. The carpet matched the wall’s color, minus the pink. Aero paid the colors of the room no attention. Instead he had his eyes focused on another decoration of the room. It was cluttered with beautiful women of all races and ethnicities (definitely an addition not pre-approved by Karl), simply standing around. In each of their hands was a pencil, pen, photograph, or t-shirt; in some cases all of the four. Aero licked his lips as he eyed the ladies up and down, almost with a look of hunger in his eyes.
“How’re you ladies doin?” he asked as he approached the group. “Lost? Need any help finding the restroom or perhaps even the living quarters?”
A few of the women threw a glance over their shoulder, but then proceeded to ignore him.
“You’re not Bardock!” one of them retorted from within the crowd.
Aero arched a brow. Why were these girls so interested "Bardock"? What type of name is Bardock? he asked himself. To him it sounded more like a catchy name for a tavern by the shore than it did a name. But then it came to him. Bardock—it was the name of the latest victor in Dante’s Abyss (he remembered him because his portrait was the only one done with a digital camera).
Fucking celebs take all the bitches.
Just a moment ago he was standing in an office room awaiting his departure to the event and now he was in a small lobby that was empty, with the exception of the pod he left from. The walls were blank and colorless; the floor naked. He walked forward. The lobby’s only opening was a hallway that extended further than Aero could see. It had a regal feel to it that reminded him of the competition he was leaping into. Its majestic undertone was almost a teasing feature that motivated him to win—maybe if he was victorious he could have a royal palace of his own.
He took his stroll down the foyer with mild annoyance (what was the point of such a long hallway, he wondered). On the left side of the hall were mounted pictures of past winners in Dante’s Abyss, incased in golden frames. They were all there—Android-18, from 2005; Raditzu, from 2006; and Bardock, from last year’s edition. One last frame was mounted next to Bardock’s image. It was empty. Aero stopped to ponder for a moment, but then simply ran a hand through his hair and continued walking.
***
Where the hallway ended another room began. This one, however, was not empty. Its walls were painted in vivid stripes of pink and yellow—an obvious decoration made by Karl Jaks himself. The carpet matched the wall’s color, minus the pink. Aero paid the colors of the room no attention. Instead he had his eyes focused on another decoration of the room. It was cluttered with beautiful women of all races and ethnicities (definitely an addition not pre-approved by Karl), simply standing around. In each of their hands was a pencil, pen, photograph, or t-shirt; in some cases all of the four. Aero licked his lips as he eyed the ladies up and down, almost with a look of hunger in his eyes.
“How’re you ladies doin?” he asked as he approached the group. “Lost? Need any help finding the restroom or perhaps even the living quarters?”
A few of the women threw a glance over their shoulder, but then proceeded to ignore him.
“You’re not Bardock!” one of them retorted from within the crowd.
Aero arched a brow. Why were these girls so interested "Bardock"? What type of name is Bardock? he asked himself. To him it sounded more like a catchy name for a tavern by the shore than it did a name. But then it came to him. Bardock—it was the name of the latest victor in Dante’s Abyss (he remembered him because his portrait was the only one done with a digital camera).
Fucking celebs take all the bitches.
![[Image: 1stAerosig.png]](http://i137.photobucket.com/albums/q218/Aerogfx/sigs/1stAerosig.png)
Placed 3rd in Dante's Abyss 08