[Repost] That's Entertainment

[Chelle]

Posted originally 30 July 04


It was in a building, by no coincidence, owned by a fan of the ‘sporting event’ being held there that night. A building that rented out office space and coincidently had a few empty floors of offices. Coincidently. And in one of them located on one of the higher floors, the spectacle had been realized.

If you looked at it now, versus how it was in the morning, you might have been in awe. But The Arena was run by able people, who knew how and what they were doing. The materials they needed, they sent guised as office materials, office equipment. The crew that set it up, as installation people, movers. A lot of care was taken, because customer satisfaction was paramount. The Arena, was, after all, a business.

That was the setting of tonight’s ring. A maze of cubicle modular walls was arranged as hallways. You could hear cheering, grunting and as you got closer, then it opened up to the ring and those in attendence. A wowing site to the first time guests, and there would be a few of those. The ring was made by an arrangement of dark mahogany executive desks, and they showed signs of abuse, stained with sweat, blood, and scratches, missing some drawers, whose remnants were swept after each fight. Keeping with the office ‘theme’ there were more executive desks but further out from the ring, placed in cubicles arranged such that these served something akin to the VIP boxes at regular sporting events. They were placed on an elevated foundation, just to give some appearance to tiered seating. However, there was the constraint of a ceiling to deal with.

There was also an actual office that had been given The Arena touch, specially reserved for their hosts this evening, should any decide to attend. Modified to having the best view possible, they could also close the double sliding doors and watch via a large flat screen in privacy. It was by their graciousness that the event was being held there to begin with. Versus the usual crowd that would surround the ring, tables were set up surrounding it instead, given the constraint of the space they were occupying didn’t allow for the construction of tiered seating. Those who weren’t VIP sat here to enjoy the event.

Coming from the building elevator, attendees of the event followed the marks that assured them they had arrived at the right spot; marks hidden in the signs of a business that only existed on paper. Walking down a hall, two sentries stood outside tall double doors, the opening of the office space that served as tonight’s ring. Security was high as always. They took their lack of infiltration and lack of raids seriously. Customer satisfaction was a top priority, and this was, after all, a business. A special invitation was needed to be allowed entry let alone to know where the event was taking place. And those who were allowed to be there, knew where to obtain that. Two areas were guarded even more heavily. The fighter’s keep, where all those participating tonight were warming up, attending wounds, meditating, etc. The other was where the overseeing of electronic fund transfers were being done to honor all bets placed, as well as monitor the surveillance taking place.
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Moving through the crowd was Nessa, giving most of her attention to those in the VIP boxes, greeting them, and ensuring they were enjoying everything thus far. Near the operations area, Phelps, lingers, looking displeased and unamused as ever, as he tapped furiously on his pocket PC. Nessa could swear that that thing was permanently attached to his hand.

“Something not..computing, Phelps”

He gave her his trademark look of being bored to tears laced with irritation

“Is that what you call humorous?”

“Now, now Phelps. Someone might think you’re an unhappy person”

“Whatever would give them that idea,”

He pushed up his glasses, and continued tapping, never once looking up at her

“You really should learn to relax Phelps, it’s healthy”

“I’m not paid to relax. And if it’s of any consequence, I am relaxed”

“Hmm. Might want to try drugs then. You’re extremely terse”

“Madam. I am always terse. If you’ll excuse me.”

Nessa perked a brow and watched him disappear into the Operations cubicles. She was surprised he even ventured out for air to begin with. She caught the eye of Mrs. Venning, and moved over to her box. No rest for the wicked.
. . .


In the ring was a man simply named Gunn. His opponent was Tony. Gunn was a bit taller, noticeably bigger, than Tony. Tony was more in the way of lean by comparison. Trained eyes could see the fight between them boiled down to speed versus strength. Gunn wasn’t like a football player, being big and able to move fast. And while Tony’s hits had to be double in count, his speed gave him the opportunity.

A sound THWACK emanated from the ring and Tony swung a desk drawer into Gunn’s ribs, holding it by the handle still, in moved down from Gunn’s side, as Tony twisted his body and brought it to his torso. Gunn managed to a left hook, the edge taken off from his hurt ribs, just as the drawer made contact with his abs. He ground his teeth, feeling a sound punch to his jaw. Little fucker was fast..

. . .


“I want to put another 5 grand on Tony,”

“5 grand on Tony, yes sir.”

Pause.

“You’re all set, sir.”

“Excellent, thank you. C’mon you speedy bastard, nail him!”

. . .



Nessa took up a position near the office. It was empty at the moment, yet it was the best place to survey the VIPs. That was her purpose here, hostess. If your spendable income was at or above a certain point, she was yours. Beyond that, hers was the face most saw and dealt with when it came to the Arena. If you needed something, anything, you found her. She’d have the arrangements made. Special occasions, fight requests, meeting a fighter, it could all be arranged, for the right prices, of course. This was, after all, a business.