Loosely based on the game, so don't expect a whole lotof familiar things. Kind of my first attempt at writing a game fanfic. So bare with me. You know I own squat, sueing is not an option. I don't own DDR.
Seriously.
Okay so lets get on with the story shall we?
======================
In a world where dancing is everything, and skill means the difference between life and death, skilled fighters vie for dominance in an evolved game once played only for fun. Some of these fighters dance for their nation, paid handsome sums for their skills as they compete across the world. Others are freelance, travellers authorized to resolve the arguments of others. Matches decided by the best dancers of the world. Those who are the winners are honored with their skill. Those who lose may not live to see another day. For one girl, this was a reality she had become all too familier with.
The sunset was only hours away when a young traveller stepped into the limits of the city of Chicago. The city had seen better days and sometimes worse as much of the old structures had been torn down to make way for new more modern structures. The remaining buildings from the past still in place were old relics that had once seen it's share of good times that were now long past and this was where the traveller now stood, walking down the street with a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She wore a plaid beret over her short brown hair and her red woolen coat was testimony that she was no veteran to wandering, it's fasion too new to be any hand me down. She wore black platform shoes and black hipsters with a jungle green belly shirt that held the image of a silver butterfly on the chest. Her eyes were a deep hazel and it was clear by the added redness to the lips and purple eyelids makeup had been expertly applied only recently with the polish on her nails that was the same purple as her eyeshadow.
As the young girl continued her journey her path began to veer further to her right before finally she was standing opposite of a neon sign not yet lightened for the welcome of it's nightly costumers. Without hesitation she stepped through the doors onto an array of colored tiles with many in need of repair. The tables were small and circular, painted an ebony color with chairs that resembled what would be seen in an old coffee shop, which was probably where they had come from in the first place. Straight in front was an area that looked fairly recent. A stage had been remodeled and intalled with a number of brand new tiles made of a seperate material then the floor itself. These tiles seem to be made of a tough plastic where beneath there seemed to allow room of lights from the floor. Each of these tiles were arainged in a distinct pattern of 8 tiles altogether with 6 of these completed patterns. On the wall, tilted from the ceiling was a number of black screens which obviously had a purpose linked to the unique tiles.
"Can I help you kid?"
The girl turned around, noticing the man to her left. He was middle aged, portly gentleman who was just over five and a half feet. He wore an old white tank top and black pants. The hair on the top of his head had given way to bare skin and only the greying brown that circled the edges of his skull and thefull mustache were testiment to his once full head of hair. He stood behind a long bar the oil purple paint fading with age as the plastic cusioned stools were already giving way to the yellow foam beneath. The shelf behind carried a wide range of glasses but barely any of the typical wines or alcohol associated with the average bar, testiment that this place catered to a more youthful crowd. The girl adjusted the duffel bag over her shoulder and approached the man with purpose.
"I'd like a job."
The man looked her up and town before folding his arms. "Kid do you have any idea how many people come in here wanting the exact same thing? I'm going to tell you the same thing I told everyone else. I'm not lookin to hire."
"I'm a hard worker."
"And I'm sure your a great girl. But I just can't afford it. Take a look at this dump if you don't believe me, I have barely enough to maintain the dance floor. Mind you it's practically my only business. Sorry kid I just can't hire."
The girl nodded, sighing as she reached back, pulling something out from the underside of her beret and sliding a small disk case onto the bar. The man unfolded his arms to brace both hands on the bar as he squinted at the disk in awe. "That what I think it is?"
In near disbelief he reached out to the item before it was pulled away by the young girl. "It's exactly what you think it is. You know and I know this will gurantee to nearly double your business and as long as I work here it will stay here too. If I leave, it leaves with me. So you can let me go and scrape by as you have been. Or you can take me with the program and see your business grow rapidly."
The man nodded as he reached out his hand. "Welcome aboard miss. My names Hunter."
The girl nodded. "Good to meet you."
"What did you say your name was?"
"I didn't. It's Konemi."
"Konemi. That your full name?"
"It is now."
Hunter smiled. "Of course. Konemi."
Seriously.
Okay so lets get on with the story shall we?
======================
In a world where dancing is everything, and skill means the difference between life and death, skilled fighters vie for dominance in an evolved game once played only for fun. Some of these fighters dance for their nation, paid handsome sums for their skills as they compete across the world. Others are freelance, travellers authorized to resolve the arguments of others. Matches decided by the best dancers of the world. Those who are the winners are honored with their skill. Those who lose may not live to see another day. For one girl, this was a reality she had become all too familier with.
The sunset was only hours away when a young traveller stepped into the limits of the city of Chicago. The city had seen better days and sometimes worse as much of the old structures had been torn down to make way for new more modern structures. The remaining buildings from the past still in place were old relics that had once seen it's share of good times that were now long past and this was where the traveller now stood, walking down the street with a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She wore a plaid beret over her short brown hair and her red woolen coat was testimony that she was no veteran to wandering, it's fasion too new to be any hand me down. She wore black platform shoes and black hipsters with a jungle green belly shirt that held the image of a silver butterfly on the chest. Her eyes were a deep hazel and it was clear by the added redness to the lips and purple eyelids makeup had been expertly applied only recently with the polish on her nails that was the same purple as her eyeshadow.
As the young girl continued her journey her path began to veer further to her right before finally she was standing opposite of a neon sign not yet lightened for the welcome of it's nightly costumers. Without hesitation she stepped through the doors onto an array of colored tiles with many in need of repair. The tables were small and circular, painted an ebony color with chairs that resembled what would be seen in an old coffee shop, which was probably where they had come from in the first place. Straight in front was an area that looked fairly recent. A stage had been remodeled and intalled with a number of brand new tiles made of a seperate material then the floor itself. These tiles seem to be made of a tough plastic where beneath there seemed to allow room of lights from the floor. Each of these tiles were arainged in a distinct pattern of 8 tiles altogether with 6 of these completed patterns. On the wall, tilted from the ceiling was a number of black screens which obviously had a purpose linked to the unique tiles.
"Can I help you kid?"
The girl turned around, noticing the man to her left. He was middle aged, portly gentleman who was just over five and a half feet. He wore an old white tank top and black pants. The hair on the top of his head had given way to bare skin and only the greying brown that circled the edges of his skull and thefull mustache were testiment to his once full head of hair. He stood behind a long bar the oil purple paint fading with age as the plastic cusioned stools were already giving way to the yellow foam beneath. The shelf behind carried a wide range of glasses but barely any of the typical wines or alcohol associated with the average bar, testiment that this place catered to a more youthful crowd. The girl adjusted the duffel bag over her shoulder and approached the man with purpose.
"I'd like a job."
The man looked her up and town before folding his arms. "Kid do you have any idea how many people come in here wanting the exact same thing? I'm going to tell you the same thing I told everyone else. I'm not lookin to hire."
"I'm a hard worker."
"And I'm sure your a great girl. But I just can't afford it. Take a look at this dump if you don't believe me, I have barely enough to maintain the dance floor. Mind you it's practically my only business. Sorry kid I just can't hire."
The girl nodded, sighing as she reached back, pulling something out from the underside of her beret and sliding a small disk case onto the bar. The man unfolded his arms to brace both hands on the bar as he squinted at the disk in awe. "That what I think it is?"
In near disbelief he reached out to the item before it was pulled away by the young girl. "It's exactly what you think it is. You know and I know this will gurantee to nearly double your business and as long as I work here it will stay here too. If I leave, it leaves with me. So you can let me go and scrape by as you have been. Or you can take me with the program and see your business grow rapidly."
The man nodded as he reached out his hand. "Welcome aboard miss. My names Hunter."
The girl nodded. "Good to meet you."
"What did you say your name was?"
"I didn't. It's Konemi."
"Konemi. That your full name?"
"It is now."
Hunter smiled. "Of course. Konemi."
