BloodSport-Death's Game » Places

         A dark figure entered a dimly lit room a faint flicker of an ember as it fell from the figure's hand and landed on the ground, a sizzling sound becoming more apparent as the figure stepped on the ember and walked to the man at the desk. The older man sat with his hands crossed gazing at the papers in front of him, a grand total of exactly five. A copy of the letter he had sent and the four responses he got in reply. A small smile played across his lips as he happilly admired the answers he had craved and expected. After shuffling through person after person he had found them, the best of the best. The deadliest of their rank. Droits that had gone undefeated and were catching the eyes of sponsors across the nations; to think he got to them first.

The figure's face became more apparent as he came into the range of the singular lamps light bulb as it shot out it's iron bars of illuminaton revealing two frosted green eyes and a slight smirk, disrupted by the cigarette currently being held by the corner of his mouth and the faint touch of his finger tips. "I take it you got the response you wanted?" Frost said as he removed his cigarette and put it out on his sponsor's desk, "I haven't seen you smile so much since the day I accepted your sponsorship." Isaiah's smile widened, as he watched the older man eye the his hand and the cigarette that was fizzling to its expected end.

"I don't remember telling you to use my desk as a way to put out your cigarette."

"That's 'cuz you didn't." Frost chuckled as he said these words, "So, what exactly did you tell them?"

The older man wiped off his desk, not allowing Isaiah's obvious disrespect for his property and attempts at arrousing his rage affect is great mood, "I simply informed them that they may be given a very suitable offer to enter the ProCircuit and that if they wanted in they would meet me in this office in a day's time. At that point a small test will be given to decide whether they are truly worth sponsering. If they passed they could name their own wages, to a point that is."

Isaiah snorted, "After all you aren't made of money, right?"

"Exactly." The older man stood and walked out of his office his hands rubbing together anxiously, "if you don't mind I'll be excusing myself to make the proper arrangements for their arrival. Please don't make too much of a mess in my absence, Isaiah." The man left, a small smile with a dark and somewhat mischevious shadow overshadowing the sweetness of his rosy, and somewhat chubby, lifted cheecks.

"Proper arrangements my ass." Isaiah said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out another cigarette and lit it. Sitting himselft down on the desk he reached over and grabbed the papers the other man had previously been holding and a folder. The papers were letters of acceptance from four soon to be, hopefully, team mates of his: Roady Domene, Liam McCarthy, Saraphael Envonge, and Jeremy Krull. "Or rather, better known as Feral, Swift, Mademioselle Guillotine, and The Krull." He said as he looked at the papers in the folder sitting on his sponsor's desk. As he looked at each picture thoughts came to him.

First one being, he'd love to know why Feral was called 'Feral'. "He must be a pretty fun guy." He chuckled, and glanced at the next one, "Swift huh, he looks like nothing more than a kid. What exactly is BloodSport coming to?" Although, this thought was put in check as his face lit up at the next picture, "The Mademioselle, however, is most certainly my type of team mate: beautiful and female." Last but not least was The Krull, a prison league fighter, intersting to say the least but even more so was the reason he was there. "Ex-military, lead his men into a slaughter...remind me to stay on his good side." With that he closed the folder and set it back on the desk, leaving the room for the day and almost looking forward to the next.