Act - 1 - Revolution - Chapter 2
Halftime at the Super Bowle
Paladeia
P.I.S.L. Championship Game
Super Bowl Arena
Halftime
Pacifica Galaxy 24 – Golden City Firebirds 24
"Before we take the field for the second half…" After implementing his team’s halftime adjustments, Sterling Coates, the Pacifica Galaxy’s head coach, addresses the locker room. With all his players still miraculously intact, he tells his suitballers, "Arcange has an announcement. Let’s give him the floor. Gabril." Sterling nods at his captain.
Extending their audio recording devices over The Super Bowle event staff’s outstretched arms, sports journalists have hopes of uncovering juicy leads. The press mob, given behind-the-scenes access to each locker room for every PISL championship, swells its credentialed mass. Bravely, navy-blue-blazered security personnel holds their line just inside Pacifica’s changing area. The locker room, more repair shop than sports facility and smelling distinctly of sweat and machinery, hushes to hear the center speak. They all, even the press, give the fifteen-year-veteran suitballer the respect he has earned from his distinguished career.
Already having retracted his helmet, Gabril Arcange’s short, sweaty, curly brunette hair rests daintily across his brow. He removes it with a subtle toss of his head. As several photographers’ cameras flash, he nods and says, “I appreciate it, coach.” Fighting back emotion, he clears his throat: “I’m gonna try to keep this short, you guys.”
"That’s what she said!" interjects a clearly intoxicated voice from amidst the crowded room. Dolos Aether, owner of the Pacifica Galaxy and CEO of the Paladeian News Network (PNN), takes a long gulp from his cup. Hours earlier, the eccentric aristocrat had kicked his Super Bowle festivities into full swing. He partakes in a championship celebration that will continue whether the Galaxy win or lose.
Gabril Arcange waits for the locker room’s childish laughter to finish. He chuckles, "Thank you for that as well, I guess! I was going to start by thanking Mr. Aether over there for keeping me around this whole time. But, at this point, I'm not sure he'll remember!"
“He’s right,” Dolos concedes drunkenly to the individuals in his immediate vicinity. “I probably wouldn’t remember.”
“No, but seriously, coach Coates, Mr. Aether, thank you for taking that chance on me all those years ago. To my teammates, all of you, I want to thank you all for getting me back to The Super Bowle one last time before I call it quits. But if you guys make it to another one of these…” After gathering his thoughts and his feelings, Gabril proceeds, “But if you guys make it to another one of these, I won’t be here with you. I’m announcing my retirement at the end of this game.”
“Excuse me!” Several reporters push past their hoard of colleagues in the foyer, anxious to get the news of Gabril’s retirement to their outlets before anyone else. They squeeze themselves into the Super Bowle’s corridor as they beg, “EXCUSE ME!”
"You guys have been amazing teammates, and I wouldn’t have wanted to take the field for this game with any other set of Paladeians. Seriously. Now bring it in!" Extending his armored fist, Gabril roars, "And let’s go extinguish some Firebirds!"
Rising in unison to bring their hands together, Gabril’s coaches and teammates exclaim, “YEAH!”
Sterling Coates raises his voice above everyone else’s. “Let’s send Arcange out with a win, guys! Galaxy on three. One, two, three…”
Thirty Paladeians bellow in unison, “GALAXY!”
Slowly herding press into the hallway outside Pacifica Galaxy’s locker room, event staff close their ranks. They annoyedly announce, “Alright! Let’s Go! Clear Out! That’s all you’re gonna’ get! These guys have a game to finish!”
Filing out through plain-looking double doors and into the corridor, armored Galaxy suits with various levels of body damage grunted encouragement at one another. Fans lining the concrete walls record videos and take pictures. A shrieking set of middle-aged fanboys bombard security to Gabril’s right. They caused him to close his helmet immediately. Arcange orders his suit, "Helmet on!" Recessed into his back, retracted layers of formed plating begin to elegantly cascade across the center’s face. Neatly, they fit together around his head before the white sections gently closed their seams. Two navy-blue galaxy clouds, the eyes of every Pacifica uniform, begin their hypnotizing counterrotations. Marching towards the darkened field of play behind most of his teammates, Arcange sighs deeply. He tells his computer, "Second half system’s check—initiate."
Restarting his therapist-prescribed breathing technique, Gabril fills his lungs to oxygenate his blood cells. His computer warmly reports, “System’s check—complete. Your suit is functioning at eighty-four percent efficiency.”
“Not bad for The Super Bowle.” Gabril exhales deeply and says, “Written report.”
While examining a series of charts provided by his HUD, his breathing exercise is interrupted by an actual woman’s voice, though just as cheerful. Tenshi Hachiman, the goalkeeper for the Galaxy, is standing next to Gabril in their tunnel. "Some speech!" she exclaims.
Making communication tricky, a capacity arena just beyond their team buzzes with excitement. Leaning over to his left in hopes she would repeat herself, Gabril asks, "What was that?" Also referred to as Hachi, Gabril’s goalie had abandoned her suit on the field after disembarking it for halftime. The Super Bowle tunnel’s height is just too low to accommodate its sheer size.
Descending from a traditionally conservative Asiatic culture, Hachi’s beautiful long black hair dances in the arena’s artificial breeze. As she cups her tiny hand around her mouth, she repeats loudly, “GOOD SPEECH!”
"Thanks," says Gabril, standing back erect. "Where did you come from, by the way?"
Displaying a set of jazz hands, Hachi smiles a beautiful, thin-lipped smile. She promises, “In or out of the goal, I’m everywhere.”
“You better be.” Breathing deeply and shaking the muscles in his arms loose, Gabril bounces on the balls of his feet. He reminds his goalie, “We’re gonna need you out there.”
Raising a sideways eyebrow at her captain, Tenshi lowers it once again to gaze down their dimly lit passageway. She inquires, “So—humans, huh?”
Keeping a singular focus on the game he is desperate to win, Gabril agrees, “Yeah—humans.”
Oblivious to her audience’s interest level, Hachiman continues, “I mean, we used to probably be just like them. Ya’ know? Hunting and gathering while living under suffocating oppression.” Directing their attention all around, she emphasizes, “NOW look at us. Nothing can stop us, ya’ know what I mean?” Placing the tips of her thin fingers on the top of her scalp, she extends them slowly while smiling dramatically. “Mind blown!”
“Yeah.” Looking down at his goalie, Gabril admits dryly through his suit’s external speaker system, “Hachi, I have no idea what we are even talking about.”
“I told you he wouldn’t know.” Montu “Mayhem” Molakhu is standing directly next to Gabril’s right shoulder. With his helmet already deployed, he says, “Arcange just retired like two minutes ago.”
Disregarding Mayhem’s comment, Tenshi questions her captain, “So humans don’t mean anything to you?”
"Yeah," Gabril acknowledges, prompting a smile to erupt across his goalie’s face. He asks, "They live on earth under the Annunaki, right?"
Hachiman’s smugness evaporates as she asks in clarification, “That’s all they mean to you?”
“Are they supposed to mean more to me than that?”
Placing her hands on her hips, Hachi applies her own offensive pressure. She asks in an accusatory tone, “Phillip hasn’t spoken to you?”
Looking bewilderedly first at Montu and then back at his goalie, Gabril queries innocently, “Who’s Phillip?”
Pumping her tiny fist in defeat, Tenshi laments, “I thought for sure that was why you were retiring.”
Entertaining his own bit of smugness, Molakhu I-told-you-so’s, “I told you he wouldn’t know.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t KNOW that he didn’t know.” Turning to her center, Hachiman scoffs, “Ya’ know?”
Concealed within his helmet, Gabril Arcange shifts a perplexed gaze between his co-captains. As another performer ends her rendition and the arena lights begin to rise again, Gabril asks, “What are you two talking about?”