The team of Serbs were looking between the newcomers and each other in confusion. Announcer didn't miss the looks and, with a mental command, the invisible camera split to show the Serbs on one side and the approaching team on the other. He was hoping the next evolution would allow for text or special effects, but for now the split screen was enough to highlight the insane differences in the crews. To anyone not familiar with the Milwaukee Climbing scene the matchup looked tragically uneven. The Serbs were five men, each larger than the last, their bare chests sporting tattoos, scars, and more muscle than would fit into a sedan. Not one of them stood under six and a half feet tall and all of them bore the look of hardened killers. They had risen through The Climb with record speed, sometimes clearing multiple floors in a single night - something not usually allowed but had been earned by the sheer overpowering force of these visitors. The slowest part of their rise had been finding people who were willing to challenge them. They had an array of melee skills that strengthened their muscles and hardened their skin and bones, and their tattoos could come alive to activate different abilities.
They looked down on all of the newcomers - quite literally. Of the four of them, only one of them stood over six-foot tall. Yet despite his heavily-muscled frame he was still dwarfed by the opposing team.
The others looked like children in comparison. Their leader stood in the front, thin and fit with a swimmer's frame. He was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and red and black Air Jordan's. Just behind him was an average looking man with an average, if slightly pudgy, body that looked out of place in this post-System world where levels seemed to bring fitness. Competing in The Climb usually meant you were in great shape - or dead. Yet the oddest member was a girl that couldn't have been an inch over five-foot or an ounce over 100 pounds. She was wearing a short skirt, patent leather boots with 6-inch soles, a white t-shirt with an anime drawing of a Japanese girl giving the peace sign, a pink Hello Kitty backpack, and blonde hair that was pulled up into two pigtails.
The Serbs noted their sizes, but that wasn't what kept their attention - or what made them one of the most memorable teams to compete. Each of them was wearing a shiny black LED rave mask that covered the entire fronts of their faces to the ears, like featureless motorcycle helmets. No movement or attack had ever managed to separate their masks from their faces, despite them not having any straps or visible way of staying attached. The group stopped in the middle of the crowd and turned to face the cheering mob.
Announcer's voice rang out with a jubilant cry, "Tonight we have been blessed with a very special treat! How few of us have have had the privilege to witness the always entertaining, unendingly dynamic, the PURE FUCKING CHAOS OF THE MISFIT TOYS?" The camera panned to face them just as their masks exploded in a light show of riotous pixelated patterns or images.
"You know them, you love them, but let's say 'hi' to them anyway!" The camera panned to the giant in the back, the only one whose mask had remained dark. He was wearing jeans, combat boots, and a faded, ripped sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, hiding his unlit mask. His only adornment was a chain belt with small objects hanging from it.
"This tall, dark, and mysterious man is Rock'Em Sock'em! You don't want to be in the ring with him unless you can take a lickin' and keep on tickin'!" Hoots and shouts called out as people cheered, the female voices drowning the male ones.
The camera panned to the one with the dad bod, his mask showing swirling whorls of different shades, colors, and sizes. "Who here doesn't know someone who hasn't caught a stray hit from Beyblade?!" Good-natured jeers mixed with the cheers as people who had taken shots from Beyblade were mocked, while the victims pulled aside clothing to show off their scars with pride.
"Next is our favorite little doll, Slinky!" Woots and catcalls mixed with the cheers as the young woman twirled and spun, stopping her spin mid-turn to stop on one tip-toe to lift the sides of her skirt in an improbably-balanced curtsy. Her mask was flashing through a two-fingered peace sign, a heart, a kitten puking a rainbow, and other random images that all seemed to convey the mood of a cheerful young girl having the time of her life.
"And finally, it's the man, the myth, AND the legend - Weeble!" Roars filled the space and someone cranked the music volume to an uncomfortable level. Weeble's mask scintillated in small squares of light grays, blues, and whites that rose and fell with the sounds of the crowd. Then a small red bar appeared at the bottom of his mask and the crowd went wild when they realized it was rating their volume. Weeble danced in a hip-hop two step, the red in his mask oscillating higher and higher until the shouts reached a crescendo - magic helping many of the voices reach the volume of low-flying planes. Weeble turned to the crowd, hands in the air as the red lights filled the mask and it erupted in an explosion of prismatic color.
Announcer climbed on top of the abandoned minivan that he had been using as an impromptu stage and pulsed his aura over the crowd to convince them to lower their voices. They were way too worked up for him to actually manipulate their emotions right now, but he would be happy if he could just get them quiet enough for him to start the fight.
"Alright you beautiful, crazy assholes - shut the fuck up so we can get this started!" The crowd laughed, booed, and threw things, but it was all in good fun and half-hearted.
"Before we start we need to respect the rules of The Climb." He turned to face The Misfit Toys. "This is an Experience match. Do you know what that means?"
The camera panned to them and the crowd burst out in laughter when Slinky's mask showed two gray X's for eyes, a skull nose, and a gray tongue hanging out of a line for a mouth. Her head was cocked to the side and her hands were crossed over her chest like she was laying in a coffin. Rock'Em gave a silent nod, Beyblade gave a double thumbs up, and Weeble held up his hands to hush the crowd. His voice was smooth and light, without a hint of concern. "Oh we're aware of the stakes. These men would like to kill us and, in turn, have offered us their lives."
Laughter erupted again as Slinky's mask displayed simple line art of two big blue eyes with long pink eyelashes, pouty red lips, and animated tears flowing down the mask, filling it up with water. When the tears had reached the top of her mask the blue light drained out, revealing green cat eyes and fangs peeking out from lips that were curved upward in a sneer.
The camera panned to the Serbs, and the announcer spoke again. "And do you know exactly what you've done tonight?" They heard his words, but without having seen the Toys before, they couldn't understand what he was really asking. The crowd did, though, and the Serbs looked around in confusion at the low "Oooooohhhh"s. Their leader turned back to the announcer.
"We know. We kill them, we take their experience, we leave your small city of losers, and find a place where people do not die so easy." The lower-level fights weren't supposed to be to the death, even if both parties agreed to it, but accidents happened. They just happened more often when fighting the Serbs than anyone else, so the crowd was ready to see them get some of their own medicine back.
The camera panned to Announcer's jubilant face. "Tonight I think we need special protection! Shielders, drop your shields around the arena!" The crowd outside the upper level booed but the shields would save a lot of lives. It would be expensive, but he knew it'd be worth the investment after tonight's match.
"If you are on the top level you've paid your way in, so you'll be able to watch the fight live and in living color!" This next announcement was a new feature related to his projection skill and would be an absolute treasure trove of experience for him. His fingers twitched in excitement at the levels tonight would bring him. His projection skill was level capped at 100 experience points per person now, but future evolutions should allow him to charge more. Besides, those experience points added up when there were hundreds of people ready to pay the fee. "For you poor, booing bastards who couldn't be bothered to earn the cash to make it up here, I have a special treat for you! Never let it be said that Announcer doesn't provide top-tier entertainment options! If you look to the projection you'll see an option to pay 100 experience points to watch the fight. That's right - our beloved System now offers pay-per-view!" He laughed as he felt thousands of experience points rolling in, pushing him to level twelve in moments.
"And now, without further ado, let the games begin!"