Strazio didn't seem eager to discuss the offer further, so Elise took her leave after a few more terse, defensive exchanges. Maybe he would cooperate, maybe he wouldn't. The albino mage's most valuable skill seemed to be a bottomless reservoir of spite, and he was happy to be a fountain for it. Whatever. Maybe his attitude would change after a few days of misery.
"Yeah right. Dude has half a death wish." Elise muttered to herself, shaking her head. She was contemplating too many 'maybes' recently, and she wasn't fond of it. As much as she was stuck in the body and mentality of a teenager, the deeper reaches of her soul had come to appreciate a sense of predictability and consistency in her life. Unfortunately, ever since that purple idiot Cyrus had fallen out of the sky, things had been completely off the rails.
It was nothing that a little retail therapy couldn't fix.
Elise had to assume that they would not be getting much opportunity for luxuries and nice clothes during the competition itself. Knowing Syntech, they wanted to try and make things as gritty as possible. Or at least to the point that the audience was convinced of the realism of this war at the expense of the contestants' suffering. Congratulations, Elise thought to herself. You're officially a method actress. Regardless of how hardcore the competition was going to be, it stood to reason that a vampiric sorceress was going to have to glow up while she had the chance.
The aptly named Recreation Dome was awash in a gently bobbing sea of spectators and Syntech staff, many of whom had rented hotel rooms on the Comet for the duration of the event. Elise shook her head. She had seen the 'Box Seating' prices listed near the civilian entrance, and they were absurd. Who would pay that much money just to watch something on a bigger screen than usual? It wasn't as if they would have the best seats in an arena.
Then again, Syntech tended to cater to people who had a very specific type of problem. That was, people who had the problem of having too much money. Karl Jak and his bougie empire had simply taken on the humble task of taking it away from these encumbered trust funders. Despite her own skepticism, Elise herself found great joy in being tended at the various nail salons, hair parlors and wardrobe boutiques she swept through in the ensuing hour or two.
The clothes she had purchased were not overly ornate, per se. She had to imagine that anything she wore into the Abyss was going to be chewed up fairly bad, so the vampire had elected for a sort of 'freedom fighter chic' look, complete with a charcoal beret, turtleneck sweater, and of course heavily garnished tripp pants. This was all completed with a cute little black and white striped shawl.
The nails were kept fairly simple, but she elected for black French tips that had been filed pretty close. One of them would probably break, and it would probably piss her off. She knew this. But the fact that she was clean, no longer covered in bloody rags, and looking fresh immediately put her in a good mood.
Finally, accessories were a new pair of cute little black steel skull gauges to fit into her earlobes. Her other glittering piercings would have to be left behind; she was willing to look cute, but there was no sense in having shiny, reflective targets all over her face. Well...maybe there was some room for glitter. Elise opted to have her name bedazzled onto her explosive suppression collar; the final accessory provided by Karl Jak. If she had to wear the damn thing, it might as well be fly as hell.
Okay.
Maybe she had overdone it a little bit. But like...fuck it.
She did, however, pitiy the poor Syntech dreg who was sweating with each sticky rhinestone applied to the explosive device. But the girl did a great job, and Elise tipped her profusely. Perhaps, if she had more time, Elise would have been tempted to make a snack of the mousy little kiosk maiden...but no. And that would not be very pitying of her. There would be time to sate her Thirst soon.
Hopefully...hopefully very soon. She was having trouble containing her fangs every time an exposed neck came within five feet of her. Elise growled to herself and shook her head, trying to banish the phantoms of her curse. Soon enough, just...fuck off. She needed a distraction.
The drip-clad woman made her way over to the bar. People with alcohol coursing through their veins made easy prey, sure, but it also tasted terrible and tended to mess with her undead anatomy. Most of the people in here seemed to normies, having their little chats about their little normie lives. Then there was Mustang and Doomguy sitting over at the bar. She hadn't recognized Roy at first in the Library - she had missed most of his air time last year - but Doomguy was unmistakable. Both of them were collared up and sharing a bit of a moment. It was kind of cute, and she found no reason to disrupt them.
What she did disrupt, however, was a conversation between two Syntech organizers who had recently gotten off the clock. They were sharing a murmured conversation in the booth behind her, but her predatory senses could easily pick out their mumblings over the general buzz and clatter of the gastro pub. They were talking about the two celebrities at the bar.
"Fuck me, he's bigger in real life." one man whispered. His uniform was different than your average Syntech schlep; all pressed and buttoned down. Probably some kind of middle management. His feeble attempt at an over-greased handlebar moustache confirmed this.
"Do you think they know?" the drinking buddy replied. She was an older woman with artificial curls burned into her dyed auburn hair. Her wrists clicked and jangled with dozens of cheap, costume jewelry bracelets.
"Naahh...Nah." the moustache replied. He took a slow pull from his fizzing gin and tonic. "They won't know until they're thrown in."
"I feel kinda bad...almost. Not really." the dye job chuckled in response. She hesitated for a moment. "It's just...they really seem to enjoy talking. Two military types, you know? They could probably really hit it off if they weren't..."
The lady trailed off, and the clattering of her bracelets indicated that she was making some sort of furtive gesturing. Elise wheeled over the divider between her booth and theirs, and leaned her elbows conspiratorially on the burnished cherry wood.
"Weren't what?" she whispered in a sing-song voice. The two employees jumped, and looked at her with panicked eyes. Like sweet, innocent baby animals. Delicious. Get a grip.
"Yeesh." the man said, running a hand down his face. "Elise right?"
The vampire gestured to her bejeweled death collar.
"Oh nice. Anyway, can't talk about team placements with contestants." he said with a cordial smile. Elise nodded politely and returned the smile.
"So they're on different teams huh?" she whispered.
"Dammit Frank." the woman snapped in an urgent whisper. Elise waved her hand, as if dispelling the obvious breach of contract Frank had just committed.
"I ain't a narc. It is kinda sad though. They're really broing it up over there..." Elise sighed, looking over at the two soldiers. In that precise moment, she realized that she missed Greenstripes. And her parents. And all of her dead friends. She puffed out a soft sigh, trying to suppress her sudden sentimental panic. Death games had a habit of drawing those thoughts out of people, she supposed.
Oh well. They were probably complete dicks.