06-29-2024, 10:39 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-30-2024, 08:35 PM by wetwilleh. Edited 2 times in total.)
"Akane, my dear, why are you so sad?"
The ISFL prospect couldn't help but turn away in frustration and embarrassment. Everything about this trip has felt wrong to Akane. Excepting once or twice to go to Vega's ancestral villa back in Switzerland for specialized training, this is the first time the safety has been outside of Japan. It certainly was the first time Akane was outside of Japan whilst intermingling with the public. And she hated it. The woman didn't speak a lick of Spanish, and whilst her English was starting to get passable due to extensive tutoring from her patron along with the Japanese education system pushing it as a second language, she still wasn't exactly comfortable with it. Akane was truly only ever in her element when speaking in her native Japanese, and whilst Vega would humor her, practically no one else in the Rod Carew Stadium spoke her mother tongue.
Not only that, but the luxury of the box was suffocating. Akane wasn't going to go out and say she was absolutely destitute before making her way into football, but she definitely wasn't born on this side of the tracks either. And she would hazard the guess that she was the only person in this box who was honest-to-god homeless for a period of their life. Yet, per Vega's insistence, she had to dress like them, socialize with them, for all intents and purposes, be them for a night. But as the uncomfortable tightness of the pressed suit rubbed over her body, the only emotion that ran in the player's mind is how fake she felt. At least it wasn't a dress; even Vega realized that was a fight she wasn't going to win. But if it was up to Akane, she'd still would be in her dirty overalls, or some other comfortable street clothes she'd wear on a daily basis. Not in a damn suit that costed thousands of dollars and would only be worn once. But Vega put her foot down there. It was fine to be the Yajin on the field and during her own time, but this was the time to make connections, to impress the big wigs both in and out of the league. It could help her draft stock-- both now for the DSFL, and in the far more important ISFL draft-- and perhaps even lay down the seeds for potential sponsorships down the line. She had to look professional tonight.
Akane, on a conceptual level, can understand the reasons playing the influence game. If nothing else, more money coming in meant more money that could be diverted to training, which hopefully would translate to skulls (metaphorically) cracked. And on that sense, she can maybe appreciate it on that level. But gods, that isn't going to change the fact that she hates it. This isn't who she is as a person, and it doesn't exactly take a genius to realize that, either. Which makes Vega's question towards her just that much jarring. Surely her mentor, her quasi-agent, no, quasi-adopted mother, would know better?
"Look," the buisnesswoman resumed speaking, "I know you're not comfortable here. But this is still the Ultimus! A once in a lifetime experience! You should be having fun! Enjoy yourself!"
Akane didn't know what to say in response. In the end, she could tell Vega was trying, and Akane could appreciate that. But no, she wasn't going to have a good time here in the box. Not like this. Not like she was some dress-up doll to be paraded in front of the big players within international football.
An uncomfortable silence followed between the two women, punctuated by the inane chatter of the other rich socialites in the luxury box droning in the background. Realizing she wasn't going to get anywhere with just a simple pep talk, the Swiss woman sighed, before reaching for her purse. Pulling out a large stack of United States Dollars, she slowly pushed the fat wad into her protege's hands.
"I bet part of your gloom is because your Silverbacks aren't in it. Why don't you go downstairs and put in a bet with the bookie before the kickoff starts? Maybe some personal stakes would get you more lively. And when you're done, there's an open bar up here too. I can handle the negotiations; your presence is mostly enough to open the doors for me. I can handle the real talking from here."
The safety blushed as the cash-- more money than she ever earned in her life-- was suddenly thrusted on her. Sometimes, the woman forgets how rich Vega can be. Not only that, but the fact that Vega was calling out her childhood team. It's no surprise that Akane, for practically her entire life, has had a massive love and appreciation for monkeys and other primates. Call it nominative determinism, she didn't care. One of her favorite things to do growing up was to go to the Iwatayama Monkey Park. Unlike humans, the sarus never judged her for her outbursts. They... they offered a sense of community and solidarity that she never got with people. And while she never truly cared for football until she met Vega initially, she always did have a passing interest in New York. Silverbacks are majestic and strong creatures, and the woman latched onto the team as a result. And while New York currently is anything but majestic and strong, she still had an old jersey of Blaine Falco in her closet from high school, likely a size too small at this point.
"And don't worry that it's American; dollars are legal tender here in Panama. I was shocked to find that out myself. Made preparing for this trip easier though~"
"Fine," the prospect said, her tone hiding her embarrassment over the whole ordeal. She truthfully felt deeply uncomfortable with how casually Vega can piss away... how much was it? Akane's eyes widened with shock as she realized she was holding five hundred thousand dollars. To just piss away on a bet! She knows better than to question it at this point, but this still seemed wildly excessive to Akane regardless. The Japanese woman rose from her seat, and temporarily made her exit from the box.
It didn't take long for Akane to make her way down to the hastily made corner for betting on the game. While sports in general have more and more openly embraced gambling in the 21st century, the ISFL has taken the vice to a whole new level. Not only were players allowed to bet on games, they nominally were allowed to bet on games that they were actually playing! How this wasn't seen as a severe conflict of interest eluded the prospect. Surely its only a matter of time before a Black Sox-esque scandal breaks out, right? But in the meantime, at least she was only a prospect for now. No official affiliation until she gets drafted, which means even the tightest of scrutiny should mean its fine.
Of course, the other problem is that simply speaking, Akane really didn't know either of these teams too well. Despite how much of a football sensation she was back in Japan, and the fact she was a somewhat-casual fan of New York growing up, truthfully, she wasn't that much into football to begin with. She wasn't one of those type of players who lived and breathed the pigskin since birth. Her even stepping onto the gridiron was more of a happy accident than anything else. The safety was largely in the dark in how the two teams matched up. She knows New Orleans, despite having the best record in their conference, upsetted the true favorites, the Arizona Outlaws, and that there was much speculation over how much that win was deserved vs how much of it was just an utter collapse by the other team. After all, New Orleans have historically been the much more dodgy team compared to Baltimore, not being too far from perennial jobbers.
That being said, she's mostly aware of that narrative in the first place was because of that blowhard Madden, who completely decimated her character live on American television. Calling her a bum, an undisciplined brute that was only there to hurt people and didn't actually understand or love the football game. The woman could hear the sound of the wad of dollars crunching as her hands clenched with rage. It's a good thing that asshole doesn't suit up, because if he did, he would have made sure he had an early retirement. Then who would be the bum then, Steve? Huh? It wouldn't be her, that's for fucking sure, dickwad-
"¡SIGUIENTE!"
While Akane couldn't exactly make out what the woman standing at the counter was saying, the fact that she was locking her eyes on the prospect, along with the fact that no one else was in front of her in the line, meant that she was probably next. Releasing the pressure from her hands, the woman sulked her way up to the receptionist, still looking visibly pissed off at the imaginary feud going on within her head.
Either not noticing or simply not caring, the receptionist, with a bored tone to her voice, merely continued, "¿A qué apuestas?"
Akane blinked, once again not understanding anything the receptionist was saying. "¿Inglés, por favor?"
The receptionist rolled her eyes and sighed. "What are you betting on?"
Akane paused to consider how she should blow the stack of money that Vega gave her. The Swiss woman probably doesn't actually care what the hell Akane spent it on in particular, as long as it made her actually invested in the game and excited. Which, to Akane, meant betting on the final spread. A lot of the prop bets are just way too niche for someone who isn't a complete football nerd to actually care about, but the final result? Yeah, that's easy to get invested in. Her eyes glancing at the line, she was somewhat shocked to see it actually favored New Orleans, even if it was only -3. Wasn't New Orleans supposed to be a joke? How the hell isn't the spread favoring Baltimore? That seemed like easy money.
"Five hundred thousand on Baltimore covering," Akane matter of factly stated as she slammed the now messy, crinkled wad of cash on the counter.
The receptionist eyes grew in shock as she saw the quantity of cash thrown at her. "Uh... yes, ma'am. Give me one moment to count..."
It took a while for the bet to be processed, due to the sheer number of bills that had to be processed, but it wasn't long before the bet was finally processed and Akane was handed a slip of paper to redeem at the end of the game. Hopefully the prospect didn't just completely piss away thousands of dollars in a sucker bet...
"YEAH! FUCK 'EM UP, AMERICANO! GET THAT SCRUB OUTTA HERE!"
It was now deep in the third quarter of Ultimus XLVIII, and Baltimore was slaughtering New Orleans. Federico Americano just sacked Octavion Speedings, putting this 27-10 game seemingly out of reach for the Second Line. Akane was back in the luxury box, a bottle of Sapporo in her hand, as she was screaming her lungs out in Japanese. The good thing about being the only one in the room who can speak the language, other than Vega, is that she can be as vulgar as she wants and no one would be that much wiser. They'd just see a future potential hall of famer getting suitably animated over a game that she isn't even in, which could only play well with the market behind the scenes, right?
It didn't take long before Vega strolled up with Akane, her overly foppish pink dress contrasting strongly with the more masculine suit that the prospect was wearing.
"I see someone's happy with the outcome of the game," Akane's mentor teased.
Akane's eyes were glued down towards the field, as the players down below started to line up for a punt. While there was still another quarter left to play, the atmosphere of the stadium, Akane included, was the game was practically over. New Orleans only had one good drive, back in the first quarter, and otherwise the Hawks were simply in complete dominance of the entire game.
"Yeah," Akane beamed back to Vega, genuine excitement flowing from her mouth, "This game's been great. Hawks D have been absolutely dominant this entire time."
Vega cracked a laugh. "Maybe not a bad destination for you, if New York or Osaka doesn't work out."
Down on the field, the ball was kicked far into the air. A fifty two yarder punt. A small solace for having to punt while still deep in their own territory. Akane chugged her Sapporo, before letting out a very unladylike belch.
"I don't care what team holds the first draft pick. They just better pick me. The rest? They'll regret the mistakes taken before me."
The Swiss' woman returned a cheeky grin, handing Akane a fresh bottle of Sapporo. "That's the spirit, girl. You'll go far with that attitude. Now, I got to make an important call. You just keep your eye out on the game, ok?"
Akane momentarily turned around to glance as Vega walked away, before finishing her last bottle of beer. Vega was right; she was being way too much of a sourpuss before the game started. All she needed was alcohol in her stomach and the world's easiest bet in her hands, and everything ended up fine. She could barely notice how tight the suit was anymore-- even if she still truthfully didn't like it--, as she popped the tab open of the fresh, cold Sapporo.
"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"
The once jubilant mood of Akane has now quickly dissipated. Everyone in the stadium thought the game was over after the third quarter. Everybody, that is, except for New Orleans themselves. The Second Line found a second wind as they were in the midst of a historic comeback. It all started after a nasty interception by New Orleans' Scott Junior, which put the Second Line in a great position to score. Having already gotten a touchdown in their previous drive, this put fourteen unanswered points on the board, leaving the score 27-24. While Baltimore was still winning at that point, now it was suddenly a game again.
If it was just that, Akane would have grumbled a bit, maybe said some choice words at the players responsible for the fuck up, but still rested knowing Baltimore's position was still unassailable as long as they had a drive with any life to it. But no. It seemed like after Junior's interception, Baltimore's offense just... gave up. Their passing became timid, barely throwing it beyond the sticks, and they still managed to throw multiple incompletions regardless. They would get only one first down on their next drive, before hitting an admittingly impressive 66 yard boomer of a punt, ideally trying to win through the game of field position. Trusting the defense that was carrying them earlier to keep the lead secured. It made sense to Akane, even if it frustrated her it got to this point in the first place.
But the choke continued! No, it didn't just continue, it got worse! Despite the amazing field position from the punt, the defense was simply no longer there anymore. New Orleans slowly but surely marched up the field, eventually tying the game entirely 27 even after they got stopped only inches away from the goal line. Akane didn't know what she hated more, the cowardly way Baltimore was playing at this point, or the cowardly decision for New Orleans to not go for it at a 4th and inches position! Both pissed her off in their own unique ways. That's when the expletives started flowing from her mouth like water off of Niagara Falls.
"THIS IS THE WORST FUCKING CHOKE I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE!"
Akane's mood continued to sour further and further as Baltimore, in her mind, basically gave up on trying to win the game. A three and out, leading into a decent punt nullified by blown coverage on the return. Starting their drive only a little behind the midfield position, it was really New Orleans' game to lose at this point. That, and Akane's temper. She continued to screech and howl as she realized that her big payday was evaporating in front of her eyes. The other socialites in the box were uncomfortably staring at her as her meltdown continued; unable to understand her, but knowing that something was wrong.
"DID YOU FUCKERS DECIDE WINNING WASN'T FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU? HOLY SHIT! YOU HAWKS GO LAY A FUCKING EGG ON YOUR OWN TIME!"
Akane threw her beer bottle on the ground in disgust. Of fucking course New Orleans threw a beautiful pass to Bread Bowl to get the go-ahead touchdown, effectively ending the game right then and there for real. Sure, the Hawks could nominally try running it back for a touchdown themselves, but that would be simply to just tie the game at that point! And it'd have to be done within the minute. The last thing Baltimore seemed to have was the drive to push back to win it, so why the fuck should Akane have any hope anymore? All she could feel is the burning rage inside of her, of the fact that her bet is going to lose!
As the Hawks were lining up in their drive to salvage what little hope remained in the game, Vega hurriedly ran up to Akane, putting a hand on shoulder.
"Akane... not here. Please. We can't have you trance here. Deep Breaths."
For her part, the Japanese woman had no desire to listen to her mentor. "HOW THE FUCK CAN I BE CALM? TWENTY FOUR UNANSWERED POINTS. TWENTY FUCKING FOUR. AND THESE PEOPLE CALL THEMSELVES PROFESSIONAL?"
Vega at this point sighed, and then grabbed Akane's shirt collar and dragged her away from the balcony.
"HEY, GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME YOU FUCKING-"
Akane's mentor sternly put her finger on Akane's mouth
"I. said. not. here. Let's get back to the hotel and wait this out."
Akane could see in the corner of her eyes as Vega continued to pull her away, that the Hawks already turned the ball over on downs between the time it took to have that conversation. Unfuckingbelivible. At least she was spared from having to watch the final insult to injury, one last field goal scored, to make an incredible 27 point comeback in what may be one of the greatest Ultimuses ever played. And maybe in retrospect, as she calmed down in the hotel, Akane could admit it was kind of cool to have seen it, but at the moment... she really wanted to just tear the goddamn heads off of... well, everyone in that stadium.
The ISFL prospect couldn't help but turn away in frustration and embarrassment. Everything about this trip has felt wrong to Akane. Excepting once or twice to go to Vega's ancestral villa back in Switzerland for specialized training, this is the first time the safety has been outside of Japan. It certainly was the first time Akane was outside of Japan whilst intermingling with the public. And she hated it. The woman didn't speak a lick of Spanish, and whilst her English was starting to get passable due to extensive tutoring from her patron along with the Japanese education system pushing it as a second language, she still wasn't exactly comfortable with it. Akane was truly only ever in her element when speaking in her native Japanese, and whilst Vega would humor her, practically no one else in the Rod Carew Stadium spoke her mother tongue.
Not only that, but the luxury of the box was suffocating. Akane wasn't going to go out and say she was absolutely destitute before making her way into football, but she definitely wasn't born on this side of the tracks either. And she would hazard the guess that she was the only person in this box who was honest-to-god homeless for a period of their life. Yet, per Vega's insistence, she had to dress like them, socialize with them, for all intents and purposes, be them for a night. But as the uncomfortable tightness of the pressed suit rubbed over her body, the only emotion that ran in the player's mind is how fake she felt. At least it wasn't a dress; even Vega realized that was a fight she wasn't going to win. But if it was up to Akane, she'd still would be in her dirty overalls, or some other comfortable street clothes she'd wear on a daily basis. Not in a damn suit that costed thousands of dollars and would only be worn once. But Vega put her foot down there. It was fine to be the Yajin on the field and during her own time, but this was the time to make connections, to impress the big wigs both in and out of the league. It could help her draft stock-- both now for the DSFL, and in the far more important ISFL draft-- and perhaps even lay down the seeds for potential sponsorships down the line. She had to look professional tonight.
Akane, on a conceptual level, can understand the reasons playing the influence game. If nothing else, more money coming in meant more money that could be diverted to training, which hopefully would translate to skulls (metaphorically) cracked. And on that sense, she can maybe appreciate it on that level. But gods, that isn't going to change the fact that she hates it. This isn't who she is as a person, and it doesn't exactly take a genius to realize that, either. Which makes Vega's question towards her just that much jarring. Surely her mentor, her quasi-agent, no, quasi-adopted mother, would know better?
"Look," the buisnesswoman resumed speaking, "I know you're not comfortable here. But this is still the Ultimus! A once in a lifetime experience! You should be having fun! Enjoy yourself!"
Akane didn't know what to say in response. In the end, she could tell Vega was trying, and Akane could appreciate that. But no, she wasn't going to have a good time here in the box. Not like this. Not like she was some dress-up doll to be paraded in front of the big players within international football.
An uncomfortable silence followed between the two women, punctuated by the inane chatter of the other rich socialites in the luxury box droning in the background. Realizing she wasn't going to get anywhere with just a simple pep talk, the Swiss woman sighed, before reaching for her purse. Pulling out a large stack of United States Dollars, she slowly pushed the fat wad into her protege's hands.
"I bet part of your gloom is because your Silverbacks aren't in it. Why don't you go downstairs and put in a bet with the bookie before the kickoff starts? Maybe some personal stakes would get you more lively. And when you're done, there's an open bar up here too. I can handle the negotiations; your presence is mostly enough to open the doors for me. I can handle the real talking from here."
The safety blushed as the cash-- more money than she ever earned in her life-- was suddenly thrusted on her. Sometimes, the woman forgets how rich Vega can be. Not only that, but the fact that Vega was calling out her childhood team. It's no surprise that Akane, for practically her entire life, has had a massive love and appreciation for monkeys and other primates. Call it nominative determinism, she didn't care. One of her favorite things to do growing up was to go to the Iwatayama Monkey Park. Unlike humans, the sarus never judged her for her outbursts. They... they offered a sense of community and solidarity that she never got with people. And while she never truly cared for football until she met Vega initially, she always did have a passing interest in New York. Silverbacks are majestic and strong creatures, and the woman latched onto the team as a result. And while New York currently is anything but majestic and strong, she still had an old jersey of Blaine Falco in her closet from high school, likely a size too small at this point.
"And don't worry that it's American; dollars are legal tender here in Panama. I was shocked to find that out myself. Made preparing for this trip easier though~"
"Fine," the prospect said, her tone hiding her embarrassment over the whole ordeal. She truthfully felt deeply uncomfortable with how casually Vega can piss away... how much was it? Akane's eyes widened with shock as she realized she was holding five hundred thousand dollars. To just piss away on a bet! She knows better than to question it at this point, but this still seemed wildly excessive to Akane regardless. The Japanese woman rose from her seat, and temporarily made her exit from the box.
It didn't take long for Akane to make her way down to the hastily made corner for betting on the game. While sports in general have more and more openly embraced gambling in the 21st century, the ISFL has taken the vice to a whole new level. Not only were players allowed to bet on games, they nominally were allowed to bet on games that they were actually playing! How this wasn't seen as a severe conflict of interest eluded the prospect. Surely its only a matter of time before a Black Sox-esque scandal breaks out, right? But in the meantime, at least she was only a prospect for now. No official affiliation until she gets drafted, which means even the tightest of scrutiny should mean its fine.
Of course, the other problem is that simply speaking, Akane really didn't know either of these teams too well. Despite how much of a football sensation she was back in Japan, and the fact she was a somewhat-casual fan of New York growing up, truthfully, she wasn't that much into football to begin with. She wasn't one of those type of players who lived and breathed the pigskin since birth. Her even stepping onto the gridiron was more of a happy accident than anything else. The safety was largely in the dark in how the two teams matched up. She knows New Orleans, despite having the best record in their conference, upsetted the true favorites, the Arizona Outlaws, and that there was much speculation over how much that win was deserved vs how much of it was just an utter collapse by the other team. After all, New Orleans have historically been the much more dodgy team compared to Baltimore, not being too far from perennial jobbers.
That being said, she's mostly aware of that narrative in the first place was because of that blowhard Madden, who completely decimated her character live on American television. Calling her a bum, an undisciplined brute that was only there to hurt people and didn't actually understand or love the football game. The woman could hear the sound of the wad of dollars crunching as her hands clenched with rage. It's a good thing that asshole doesn't suit up, because if he did, he would have made sure he had an early retirement. Then who would be the bum then, Steve? Huh? It wouldn't be her, that's for fucking sure, dickwad-
"¡SIGUIENTE!"
While Akane couldn't exactly make out what the woman standing at the counter was saying, the fact that she was locking her eyes on the prospect, along with the fact that no one else was in front of her in the line, meant that she was probably next. Releasing the pressure from her hands, the woman sulked her way up to the receptionist, still looking visibly pissed off at the imaginary feud going on within her head.
Either not noticing or simply not caring, the receptionist, with a bored tone to her voice, merely continued, "¿A qué apuestas?"
Akane blinked, once again not understanding anything the receptionist was saying. "¿Inglés, por favor?"
The receptionist rolled her eyes and sighed. "What are you betting on?"
Akane paused to consider how she should blow the stack of money that Vega gave her. The Swiss woman probably doesn't actually care what the hell Akane spent it on in particular, as long as it made her actually invested in the game and excited. Which, to Akane, meant betting on the final spread. A lot of the prop bets are just way too niche for someone who isn't a complete football nerd to actually care about, but the final result? Yeah, that's easy to get invested in. Her eyes glancing at the line, she was somewhat shocked to see it actually favored New Orleans, even if it was only -3. Wasn't New Orleans supposed to be a joke? How the hell isn't the spread favoring Baltimore? That seemed like easy money.
"Five hundred thousand on Baltimore covering," Akane matter of factly stated as she slammed the now messy, crinkled wad of cash on the counter.
The receptionist eyes grew in shock as she saw the quantity of cash thrown at her. "Uh... yes, ma'am. Give me one moment to count..."
It took a while for the bet to be processed, due to the sheer number of bills that had to be processed, but it wasn't long before the bet was finally processed and Akane was handed a slip of paper to redeem at the end of the game. Hopefully the prospect didn't just completely piss away thousands of dollars in a sucker bet...
"YEAH! FUCK 'EM UP, AMERICANO! GET THAT SCRUB OUTTA HERE!"
It was now deep in the third quarter of Ultimus XLVIII, and Baltimore was slaughtering New Orleans. Federico Americano just sacked Octavion Speedings, putting this 27-10 game seemingly out of reach for the Second Line. Akane was back in the luxury box, a bottle of Sapporo in her hand, as she was screaming her lungs out in Japanese. The good thing about being the only one in the room who can speak the language, other than Vega, is that she can be as vulgar as she wants and no one would be that much wiser. They'd just see a future potential hall of famer getting suitably animated over a game that she isn't even in, which could only play well with the market behind the scenes, right?
It didn't take long before Vega strolled up with Akane, her overly foppish pink dress contrasting strongly with the more masculine suit that the prospect was wearing.
"I see someone's happy with the outcome of the game," Akane's mentor teased.
Akane's eyes were glued down towards the field, as the players down below started to line up for a punt. While there was still another quarter left to play, the atmosphere of the stadium, Akane included, was the game was practically over. New Orleans only had one good drive, back in the first quarter, and otherwise the Hawks were simply in complete dominance of the entire game.
"Yeah," Akane beamed back to Vega, genuine excitement flowing from her mouth, "This game's been great. Hawks D have been absolutely dominant this entire time."
Vega cracked a laugh. "Maybe not a bad destination for you, if New York or Osaka doesn't work out."
Down on the field, the ball was kicked far into the air. A fifty two yarder punt. A small solace for having to punt while still deep in their own territory. Akane chugged her Sapporo, before letting out a very unladylike belch.
"I don't care what team holds the first draft pick. They just better pick me. The rest? They'll regret the mistakes taken before me."
The Swiss' woman returned a cheeky grin, handing Akane a fresh bottle of Sapporo. "That's the spirit, girl. You'll go far with that attitude. Now, I got to make an important call. You just keep your eye out on the game, ok?"
Akane momentarily turned around to glance as Vega walked away, before finishing her last bottle of beer. Vega was right; she was being way too much of a sourpuss before the game started. All she needed was alcohol in her stomach and the world's easiest bet in her hands, and everything ended up fine. She could barely notice how tight the suit was anymore-- even if she still truthfully didn't like it--, as she popped the tab open of the fresh, cold Sapporo.
"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"
The once jubilant mood of Akane has now quickly dissipated. Everyone in the stadium thought the game was over after the third quarter. Everybody, that is, except for New Orleans themselves. The Second Line found a second wind as they were in the midst of a historic comeback. It all started after a nasty interception by New Orleans' Scott Junior, which put the Second Line in a great position to score. Having already gotten a touchdown in their previous drive, this put fourteen unanswered points on the board, leaving the score 27-24. While Baltimore was still winning at that point, now it was suddenly a game again.
If it was just that, Akane would have grumbled a bit, maybe said some choice words at the players responsible for the fuck up, but still rested knowing Baltimore's position was still unassailable as long as they had a drive with any life to it. But no. It seemed like after Junior's interception, Baltimore's offense just... gave up. Their passing became timid, barely throwing it beyond the sticks, and they still managed to throw multiple incompletions regardless. They would get only one first down on their next drive, before hitting an admittingly impressive 66 yard boomer of a punt, ideally trying to win through the game of field position. Trusting the defense that was carrying them earlier to keep the lead secured. It made sense to Akane, even if it frustrated her it got to this point in the first place.
But the choke continued! No, it didn't just continue, it got worse! Despite the amazing field position from the punt, the defense was simply no longer there anymore. New Orleans slowly but surely marched up the field, eventually tying the game entirely 27 even after they got stopped only inches away from the goal line. Akane didn't know what she hated more, the cowardly way Baltimore was playing at this point, or the cowardly decision for New Orleans to not go for it at a 4th and inches position! Both pissed her off in their own unique ways. That's when the expletives started flowing from her mouth like water off of Niagara Falls.
"THIS IS THE WORST FUCKING CHOKE I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE!"
Akane's mood continued to sour further and further as Baltimore, in her mind, basically gave up on trying to win the game. A three and out, leading into a decent punt nullified by blown coverage on the return. Starting their drive only a little behind the midfield position, it was really New Orleans' game to lose at this point. That, and Akane's temper. She continued to screech and howl as she realized that her big payday was evaporating in front of her eyes. The other socialites in the box were uncomfortably staring at her as her meltdown continued; unable to understand her, but knowing that something was wrong.
"DID YOU FUCKERS DECIDE WINNING WASN'T FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU? HOLY SHIT! YOU HAWKS GO LAY A FUCKING EGG ON YOUR OWN TIME!"
Akane threw her beer bottle on the ground in disgust. Of fucking course New Orleans threw a beautiful pass to Bread Bowl to get the go-ahead touchdown, effectively ending the game right then and there for real. Sure, the Hawks could nominally try running it back for a touchdown themselves, but that would be simply to just tie the game at that point! And it'd have to be done within the minute. The last thing Baltimore seemed to have was the drive to push back to win it, so why the fuck should Akane have any hope anymore? All she could feel is the burning rage inside of her, of the fact that her bet is going to lose!
As the Hawks were lining up in their drive to salvage what little hope remained in the game, Vega hurriedly ran up to Akane, putting a hand on shoulder.
"Akane... not here. Please. We can't have you trance here. Deep Breaths."
For her part, the Japanese woman had no desire to listen to her mentor. "HOW THE FUCK CAN I BE CALM? TWENTY FOUR UNANSWERED POINTS. TWENTY FUCKING FOUR. AND THESE PEOPLE CALL THEMSELVES PROFESSIONAL?"
Vega at this point sighed, and then grabbed Akane's shirt collar and dragged her away from the balcony.
"HEY, GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME YOU FUCKING-"
Akane's mentor sternly put her finger on Akane's mouth
"I. said. not. here. Let's get back to the hotel and wait this out."
Akane could see in the corner of her eyes as Vega continued to pull her away, that the Hawks already turned the ball over on downs between the time it took to have that conversation. Unfuckingbelivible. At least she was spared from having to watch the final insult to injury, one last field goal scored, to make an incredible 27 point comeback in what may be one of the greatest Ultimuses ever played. And maybe in retrospect, as she calmed down in the hotel, Akane could admit it was kind of cool to have seen it, but at the moment... she really wanted to just tear the goddamn heads off of... well, everyone in that stadium.