-1I don't own the Road Rovers. This story features a cross-over with 'I'm-Not-Gonna-Tell-You-Yet' cause it's a surprise. The following chapters (not this one) are gonna contain clues for you to guess what show it might be with, but nothing will be answered until the big reveal. Phoenix already knows what it is, and he's not talking either.
Anyway, on with the story!
The dark-haired young woman came out of the ship she had managed to park in a nearby branch of trees and walked toward the large stone stadium where a whole group of shapely young woman were practicing around the area, throwing kicks in the air, and posing with their arms in many different positions. Several of the women had young to middle aged men with them, some making notes in clapboards, some talking to the women.
In the middle of all of this there was a fold-out table in which two professional looking people were sorting through papers in front of them. A huge banner was spread out over one wall of the stadium. 'WOMEN'S WORLD MARTIAL ARTS TOURNAMENT- COME ON, COME ALL!' She smiled and tossed her hair over her shoulder as she made her way to the table. One woman looked up. "Hello," she greeted, standing up and shaking her hand. "welcome. Are you here to sign up for the Women's World Martial Arts Tournament?"
"Actually, I'm here to sign someone else for the tournament…" the woman said in a thick Scottish accent.
"Oh? Her manager, I presume."
"Yes, yes, her manager, if ya will," the woman said with a devious grin she managed to hide from all. "I'm afraid she can't be here herself, she had…oh…other business to attend to. But she really would love to participate in this."
The woman nodded. "I have no doubt of that, especially concerning the cash prizes to both the winner and first runner up."
"Oh yes, what are they again?"
"well the winner of the tournament gets that lovely silver trophy right there," the woman said, pointing to her left at the huge ornately decorated trophy on the wooden platform. "as well as a check for 500,000, to be converted into whatever the currency the martial-artist is from. Second place gets that lovely gold medal," she pointed to a golden medal with rainbow ribbons attached to it that wnt around the neck. "And a 100,000 cash prize."
"excellent," the woman said as an evil look crossed her face, which she promptly got rid off.
The woman behind the desk gave her a sheet of paper containing the information. "Just fill out that form, please."
"All right," she agreed.
"If you will first let me know the name of your client, so I can register her?"
"Her name is Colleen."
"Colleen, lovely," the woman said, writing down the name. "Always loved that name myself. Last name, please?"
"Last name," the woman said hesitantly.
"Yes, may I have her last name, please, so I can fully register her?"
The woman turned slightly pale. "Last name…right…what the hell is her last name?" she thought. "Probably the last name of her owner…uh..Blair."
"Blair? Colleen Blair," the woman said, writing it down on her clipboard. "That's a nice name. OK, country of origin?"
"London, England."
"England? England," the woman wrote it down. "Representing London, you said? That's interesting. Another one of our participants is from Lancastisure. That'll be something to see, two representatives of England battling each other."
The woman smiled. "Yes," she said slowly with her Scottish brouge.
"Age?"
"Oh…around mid-20s."
"Doesn't like to tell her age? Young thing, huh?"
"Yep."
"First tournament?"
"Oh..yes."
'OK."
"But tell me…have any of these fighters gone up against a real bitch before?"
One of the women practicing nearby stopped and went over to her. "what do ya mean by that?"
"I mean, my client is what you call a real bitch!!"
The woman laughed with a thick Brooklyn accent. "So what? we're all bitches here, every one of us!" She pointed to a dark skinned woman near her. "She's a bitch," she gazed at a redhead practicing. "She's a bitch," she gestured to a blond concentrating on a high place kick. "She's a definite bitch! Hell, I'M a bitch! You got a client who's a bitch, bring her on!! She'll be in good company! Tell her welcome to the club. It doesn't matter, I'm gonna win that trophy, and that check!"
"Oh, if I were you I wouldn't be so over confident. I DID say she was a real bitch!"
"Yeah, well so am I! So are all of us! Bring her on…I'll mop the floor with her!"
The woman smiled evily and handed the form back all filled out. "I seriously doubt you can!"
"All right, everything looks in order. Tell Miss Blair to show up here next Saturday at 10 AM sharp. Tornament starts at 11."
"I can pretty much garentee she will be here!" The woman waved a cheerful good bye to the other participants and went back to her ship, where she got on her radio. "Groomer to Parvo, Groomer to Parvo…its been done!"
"She's all signed up to participate?"
Groomer had to smile. "Indeed she is, Sir."
"All right, I've got the sedative ready. Get out of there, now."
"I'm on my way back!"
"excellent!" An evil laugh came from the speaker. "I've been waiting a a LONG time for an opportunity like this! wE can get our revenge on the Rovers and get plenty of money for new high-tech weapons at the same time! She'll win that check for us in no time!"
Groomer grinned, "Yes, Sir!"