This is officially my favorite chapter of this story (so far). Why? You'll see.
We're finally in Hanamura, and two chapters away from the first round of the GWC. As with every competition, you have your rivals that you respect, and the ones that you that you can live without. Hana and Josh are rivals and respect each other. The four you're going to meet in this chapter are in that other category, and will be major characters for the remaining 6(?) chapters.
Note to linguists who speak a language other than American English (especially the British): I'm sorry.
Enjoy!
Hana
"Ms. Song, we have arrived in Hanamura. We should be landing in 10 minutes."
"Finally," I exclaimed, to no one in particular. Even though the flight from Busan to Hanamura is about 6 hours, the males with me - my grandpa and my partner - had decided snoozing was much better than staying up with me. It was fine though, as I made some fun of my own, settling it in Starcraft and, when that bored me, watched the livestream of the GWC, as the participants arrived at the hotel we would be residing in, right across the street from the stadium where we would compete.
So far, a few of the competitors from my side of the competition, the more prominent ones, have already came and went inside after a quick interview. So far, it has be clean, with no jabs at the 'reigning champion(s)' of the world. Sure, they talked big, but neither have made it to the finals alone. The two that have are a team. In my eyes, experience wins, and my team has it.
The last bit of the trip has also been spent on reading the news from home. Apparently the draftees for the MEKA program have been selected, but won't be announced publicly for a few more days. I'm a surefire pick, but I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind. I, of course, have better things to think about.
After receiving the pilot's message, I tapped my partner on the shoulder, but that only caused him to stir. Slyly smiling, I leaned my face into his ear, and licked his earlobe. That made him react, though unexpectedly. Instead of him squirming in disgust, the boy hummed as he woke up, smirking. "I had the most wonderful dream, and you ruined it."
Nuzzling his neck, I wondered what 'wonderful dream' I interrupted. "What was it about?"
"Me kicking your ass for the GWC championship."
"Hmm, that is a wonderful dream. Too bad it will never be a reality." Josh laughed and turned to face me, our noses interlocked but our foreheads keeping up apart.
"Well, you might be the world champion of the last three years, Hana Song, but after this week, you'll have to share."
"Oooh, I don't like sharing. Especially my title. You're going to have to convince me."
Josh leaned forward, closing the gap between our lips but not making full contact. He noticed that I was caught off guard by his feint as well. "I'm very persuasive. Surely it won't be hard to convince you."
"I'm a tough girl." I tried to capture his lips, but the boy was quicker. He leaned back as far as my seatbelt would take me, leaving me pouting like a little girl. "C'mon!" All Josh could do was laughed as I turned away. "That's why you're a pro at blue-balling."
The laughing stopped right there. "I'm insulted." I shrugged and reached over to the couch across from our seats, patting my grandpa on his shoulder. "Hal-abeoji, we're here."
"Shit..." My grandpa grunted as he slowly began to awake, shaken by the slight turbulence. He sat up, wiping his eyes and stretching his limbs as we finally made landfall. "Oh well, kids. It's showtime. Now pay attention, for what I'm going to tell you is important." Once he figured he had our full attention (when the plane stopped moving and he was fully awake) he began his monologue. "Now, once we step off this plane, you guys are in familiar territory. Fans will be here at the airport and at the hotel, waiting to see you guys. So will the media. They will wan to hear from the defending world champion and her biggest rival, no doubt. But this time, whereas in the past, an attack on one meant nothing to the other, it will be directed at both of you. I have said this many times, that you two are a team, and to not let anything distract you from victory. Your competition is afraid of you. This isn't some cliché story about the underdog rising to beat the alpha, no, you two are the alphas. Neither is this story about you two falling from grace, for while there's controversy, it hasn't done a damn thing to how your fans view you guys. So what's a little sex tape going to do, everyone thinks you are getting on the payload anyway."
Josh and I looked at each other, confused by my grandfather's choice of words. What does "getting on the payload" even mean?
Josh
Is it sad that I somewhat got by what Grandpa Song meant by that, or is it even sadder that only me and Hana know that we haven't came close to "the payload"?
"However, you two do have a story. Do you know why there are barely any stories where the top dogs crush the the little guys and that's end of story? Because authors are so fucking bias towards having the little guys win. The Empire should have crushed the Rebellion… Nope. That pathetic rebellion in the Hunger Games, asses should have been wiped like a wet floor. Harry Fucking Pothead had to beat the Dark Lord in the only time they actually met in battle, and they really don't even fight. Today, that changes. The top dogs will crush those pathetic underlings, and those dogs will be the pair of kids I'm looking at. They can bitch and moan about what they're going to do, but it doesn't matter if they can't do it… When you walk off this plane, the territory you controlled for two years will be changed. It's their land now. However, as you go about the next few days, either they're Polish or the French."
I looked at Grandpa skeptically. "Are you comparing us to the Nazis?"
He shrugged. "I think it is a good reference. Either they'll give up without a fight, or barely putting up one." Grandpa stood up, stretched one final time. "Well, let's go."
The trip from our plane to our ride to the hotel was nothing special, to say the least. Fans everywhere, media everywhere (Earlier, Hana and I opted not to give them the light of day until tomorrow), and as we enter our ride, silence everywhere. Our luggage was load with few words, and then we were off towards our hotel, the Alderworth Hotel of Japan. Hana's grandfather sa in the front with the driver, having casual conversation, but Hana and I just sat in the back, her head resting on the door, looking out the window, my own standing tall, looking out the other. In between us, our hands were interlocked. These were the final moments in which we'll be just Hana and Joshua, for once we set foot outside this limousine, Dva and Hardin25 take over.
The switch happened happened in a snap.
"We're here." I sighed as I watched the crowd in front of the Alderworth grow bigger and bigger. I felt my hand clenched, causing me to look at Hana. She had this smile, one that was more reassuring than outputing her usual playful attitude.
"Now you get to see how I arrive to the scene."
"Cannot be any different from me. Besides being the champ, of course." I used my other hand to bring her into a hug, and kissed her on the forehead. She squirmed in response.
"My lips, not my forehead."
"Which ones?"
"...Men." The car stopped, and I looked at the window. Sure enough, we were at the entrance to the hotel, with a red carpet, reporters, and fans just waiting to see who was exiting the vehicle. Fluffing my jacket and putting on my shades (thank you sponsors for not dropping us, and giving us these nice as hell casual clothing and these awesome sunglasses) I put my hand on the door, breathing in.
"Ready?"
"Geim si-jag."
Alright. Gameface: On. I pushed open the door, and stepped out. Immediately, the crowd began to roar, as they saw me, and I ate it up. Turning around, I 'helped' Dva out the limo, and that's when everyone went bonkers. One reporter announced our presence to the rest of the world, while others began to make their way to us. Smiling and waving to the fans, Dva and I began to waltz down the red carpet in our jeans, T-shirts with our new bunny symbol upon it, and jackets matching our jumpsuit colors. Oh, did I mention my awesome sunglasses? Rule one of being a team: Look the part. As we moved on down, Dva's arm snaked around mine, and while it is hard to gauge how loud it was beforehand, I swore the decibels sprang up. I can't blame them. I was smiling too.
As per our unanimous agreement, we ignored the reporters, never really smiling at the cameras but to our loyal fans. Once we actually made it within the confines of the hotel, those vultures ceased to bother us, and we looked at each other in glee. We actually got through their annoying questions, not like I need to tell you what they could have been. However, while we were celebrating victory outside the hotel, we totally ignored the real battle on the first day. As we checked in, and Hana texted her grandfather as to where our room will be so our luggage can get there, I heard the most annoying accents to my American blood.
"Ah, je vous vois deux."
"Cheers, loves! The champs are here!" Dva and I turned around to see my partner's most hated people here. Now, to remind you guys and gals, Dva and I are rivals on a good day, archrivals on a bad day, but who we really were outside of this are friends. These two...well, I don't how to put it into words…She just didn't like them at all.
Hana
Oh, I know a few words, and in my native language as well. As I watched the pair of heathens walk up to us, I decided to meet them halfway. "Oh look, it's the mi-chin-nyeon of the English and French geol-le-gat-eun nyeon."
The pair, Lena Oxton and Amélie Lacroix, aka Tracer and Widowmaker, are hated by me for various reasons. One, the most important one, at one point or another, they have hit on my man, and I cannot respect that, even though that was before a few weeks ago. Second, ever since I first won my title, they have been my most avid critics, and have made the heaven of the last three years hell. Third...they're just bitches. Lexa is that annoying bitch that keeps floating around you, messing with your mind until she catches you. She's also the conservative-clothed whore. She has on some stupid jacket with some stupid...glowing thing, some stupid glasses on top of her stupid brown hair to cover her stupid big, blue eyes, and the most blinding pair of orange pants ever. And she talks so sweetly in that ear-bleeding accent. Last, she has a stupid ass.
Widowmaker, on the other hand, is like a spider. She's that bitch who just waits for you to slip up, and then once she has her sights on you...you're dead. Her French sounds so seductive, yet i leeches with poison. She dresses like a seductress too. Her skin is a dark blue due to some birth defect, but that ain't stopping her from having her purple shirt open down her chest, and wearing the blackest, tightest pants and heeled boots like she's on a fucking runway. Also, she has an even stupider ass.
Ok, I'm just jealous about their looks (they definitely are very beautiful women, even Ms. Blue), but let's not get into a certain argument, because Asian women always win in that category.
Widowmaker walked up to me first, and while she was taller, I was far from scared. "English, little bug. I see you paired yourself with another roach to squash."
Hardin25 scoffed. "That's funny. I got more victories than you. Both of you. Combined. But where are my manners as a gentleman? Bonjour, ma paire préférée de sorcières. J'aurais dû apporter du vin et du fromage.
I joined in on the teasing. "It must be a beautiful day for you two numpties to wag off, eh? Don't ya have Doctor Who to watch? I mean, love, why would these nobs come to us"
Hardin25 smiled. "Bloody hell if I know. They must have conked their heads and lost their marbles!"
"La vache!"
"Arrêtez!" Tracer and Widowmaker were both heated, adding to our amusement. The French teen stepped up to Hardin25, sizing him up. "If you think you and your chienne have a chance of winning, then I guess It's such a shame that'll we'll be the ones to defeat you guys."
"Ooh, an explosive argument. I just can't stay away." The four of us turned to face the Australian pair of losers...I mean competitors, this time on Hardin25's most hated list. The first of the pair of guys, the speaker, is named Jamison Fawkes, aka Junkrat. Name is fucking correct, because he looks like he came out the junkyard. Skin kissed by the sun and intense workout, Junkrat sported a false (hopefully) grenadier strap across his chest, along with green pants and black boots. The tips of his blond hair and his eyes looked like they were ignited on fire. In size, he was shorter than Josh, barely taller than Widowmaker. However, he had size beside him.
Mako Rutledge, aka Roadhog. No need to describe a dude whose belly looks like a literal pig.
Hardin25 stepped away from Widowmaker, crossing his arms. "Oi, Tracer, here come your babies that want to be like me, but fail in each and every way."
"Shut your American pothole up!"
"Aww, is someone angry? Is it because you're a little down under in that department?"
I tagged myself in. "Feel sorry for Roadhog, mate. You must have never...fired in his hole." Although no instigating was heard, there was an understood "oooh" echoing in the air from the girls and anyone around us. Junkrat, stunned, froze for a moment to let my words sink in, and then his face exploded into rage. He stepped my way, my boyfriend interceding. Junkrat took out his anger on Hardin25 instead. "Keep your girl's flaps close, or else. It's a perfect day for some mayhem."
"That's not how you talk to the world champ, isn't it, Junkrat." Hardin25 turned to me, and put a hand on my back. "Anywho, we have a room to find, luggage to unpack, and if we got any free time...we'll kill it with you guys' defeat in mind. So um, Tracer, don't make Widowmaker waved the white flag before she finishes, and Roadhog...lay off the buffet." Laughing to ourselves, Team Dva left our four rivals hating us more and skipped to the nearest elevator to our suite. We were done with those losers for the foreseeable future.
However, the throwing of shots were just getting started.