"Tonight we have visitors from the great city of Chicago!" The announcer's magically-enhanced voice was greeted with loud boo's. The night air was chilly, especially at the top of Milwaukee's Hyatt Regency's parking structure. Eight levels led to the top, each one teeming with crowds, and each one dominated by The Climb.
"Oh come on now!" the man appropriately nicknamed 'Announcer' yelled with feigned pain. "They came all this way to visit our great city and to give us the honor of climbing our structures - and how they have!" He patted the air, trying futilely to silence the raucous crowd. Every Friday and Saturday night the parking structures across the city were like this - crowds of people gathered to get drunk and high, hook up, and just generally gather together to throw a big middle finger to Mortality and the end of the world. But most of all, they gathered to watch fights that would have made the Coliseum look like a day on the playground. System-empowered gladiators who entertained the crowds while reaping huge rewards in items and experience.
You could fight as an individual or in a team, but all followed the same rules and the same path - you climbed. There was no testing out, no shortcuts, no favors to be passed out or claimed. You started on the street and you fought your way up each level. This weekend's winners would be eligible to compete in one of the matches on the next level up, and so on, until you completed your structure's Climb. Reaching the top of that made you eligible to climb a taller structure, and then another, until you made it here - eight stories up and at the top of your game.
"They paid their dues and have given you ungrateful assholes plenty of bloody entertainment!" He laughed while the crowd alternately whistled and jeered. A plastic cup of beer flew his way but he waved it away before it could hit him. Part of his crowd control repertoire was a preternatural awareness of his immediate surroundings and the ability to telekinetically deflect small thrown objects - both very useful when dealing with this crowd..
Five massive, shirtless men strode up the parking lot's incline and to the back of the lot, where a huge space had been cleared. Announcer hopped off his impromptu stage to meet them. He extended his skill and the crowd quieted. Not so much soothed as bottled, ready to erupt again once his control was pulled back. "You know them! I know them! But let's hear them tell us anyway! Maybe this time we'll get them to talk!" He reached them and passed their leader the megaphone. "What are your names? Who is your team?"
The leader took the offered horn and looked at it with studious confusion. It looked like a toy in his hand and one club-like thumb found a button that squealed out a harsh note, making the crowd jeer and laugh. The man lifted the megaphone to his mouth again, this time finding the right button.
"Serbs," he said with a heavy accent.
"Is that a team name or just your nationality?"
The mountain of a man looked down at Announcer, then lifted the megaphone again. The crowd waited in breathless anticipation.
"Serbs."
Laughter billowed into the night like a cloud, the Serbs becoming visibly angrier the louder the crowd jeered.
"That's okay, that's okay!" Announcer said. "We've all seen it before - the fancier the name, the quicker they lose! If that's true here then we may have our new champions!" He swung a hand out wide, the crowd cheering and jeering in equal measures.
He held up his hand again, forcing the crowd to go silent. "And what do you want, our friendly neighbors? What will it be? Are you competing for weapons? Items? Territory? For entry into a gang, or are you recruiting members? What are you asking and what are you offering?"
The big man lifted the tiny horn to his lips. "Experience."
A susurration went through the crowd, moving through and across it like ripples in a pond. Announcer's eyes were wide but a wolfish grin lit his face. "Experience?! Well, you certainly don't pull any punches, do you?" He turned to face the crowd and activated a skill that amplified his Megaphone skill that allowed his voice to be heard by anyone within a mile's radius.
"WE HAVE AN EXPERIENCE BOUT!" The city around him erupted in a roar and people could be seen flooding the buildings surrounding the structure. Experience bouts were rare and always offered the most spectacle.
Announcer continued, his voice echoing off the buildings around them. "For those new to our city, an Experience bout can only be offered by someone who has reached the pinnacle! The very best of the best! These are no paltry stakes, my friends, oh no. These are only the highest of risks and rewards, and only one outcome is possible in an Experience bout: One team wins, the other team dies!"
Roars could be heard all around him and he felt his experience ticking upward. People were even clinging from the walls of the buildings or floating in the air. The more intent the crowd that he was influencing, the more experience he gained - and Experience bouts were the biggest chance to level up his powers. The last one had been months ago and he'd gained a new skill that he had been itching to use. Tonight would be his chance - if someone took them up on the offer, that is.
"The Serbs. Or… Mr. Serb? Serbalites?" The crowd laughed and hooted around him. "Whatever we call them, our friends from Chicago are here to show us what they're made of, and they are offering the most precious prize one can offer! Will no one take them up on this?"
He activated his new skill and a huge display appeared in the sky above him, showing the area around him in perfect detail. The team of huge men looked like small mountains as the invisible 'camera' panned around them and projected their images five stories into the air in a display that dwarfed any pre-System Jumbotron.
"Who will take on these challengers? These nasty, beastly," his voice faltered when he saw the looks they were giving him." Uh, these very big, dangerous, mean men who insult our great city and its honor? Who will show them the mistake they made in coming here thinking that the 414 is weak??" His voice was greeted with shouts and cheers, chants of "414! 414!" reverberating around them. After a minute the chants started to lose steam as no one stepped forward, and soon there was silence and the occasional awkward "Woot!" from the crowd. Announcer looked around the gathering, panning the screen over the faces of everyone on the parking structure and even those in the surrounding buildings. Heads dipped in shame or embarrassment as they looked up and saw themselves refusing to take up the challenge in 5-story, luminated glory.
"So we're really not doing this?" Announcer asked, his voice full of pain and disgust that he pushed onto them with a skill. Even more heads dipped, but no one stepped forward.
"Really? You're fucking serious guys? The first Experience battle we've seen in months - and a potentially good one, judging by the size of these beasts, and you are all too chicken shit? You top-tier teams earn your way up here but are too scared to put up for real stakes?"
The Serbs looked at the crowd, the buildings surrounding them, and Announcer - anger and irritation making their movements jerky. The leader lifted the horn, thumbing the wrong button again and causing it to squeal, only this time the squeal was heard over the projection skill still lighting up the night sky. People cried out and cupped their ears, the Serb having enough decency to look chagrined. A second attempt found the correct button. "You are all weak. There is no challenge here. We are going back to where people are strong. Cowards." The megaphone squawked electronically as he crushed it in the palm of his hand and tossed the pieces over the side of the building.
The tension and excitement in the air began to bleed away as the Serbs faded into the darkness of the next level down, followed by half-hearted boos.
Misfit Toysby Pusha T and Mako started playing and everyone paused for the seconds it took for them to realize what they were hearing. Then the parking structure literally shook with the cheers, clapping, and stomping that followed the recognition. The crowd parted in a wave as four figures emerged from the back. They were a mismatched bunch, but not a single one of the patrons who regularly paid to frequent these upper level fights would mistake them as anything other than the most recognizable team in the Climb.