"Forget Olympics it's just going to be mutant Calvinball all over the place."
<NYC> Chimaera Arts - Brooklyn
This is just one of the many abandoned warehouses along the western shore of Brooklyn, and like many of them it has recently changed hands. /Unlike/ most of those, however, it does not have some corporate developer's sign out front promising a transformation into luxury condominiums or a boutique shopping center or the latest concept restaurant. Instead it's marked by a piece of weathered but wildly colorful plywood propped up on a stack of broken pallets, which reads "Chimaera Art Space!" above "chimaera.org" in smaller letters. The warehouse itself is moderately large but not much to look at. Though it has clearly gone without maintenance for some time, it seems to be in reasonably good repair. The grounds are still littered with debris, but a clean-up effort is underway.
The sun blazes bright in the summer sky, but the breeze off of the water keeps the day relatively cool. Desi has paused in the doorway of the warehouse to watch a small white butterfly flutter around a spray of wildflowers struggling up through a crack in the pavement outside. She's wearing a fern green tunic dress with pointed sleeves and hems and a handkerchief hem skirt in much darker green, her black boots and thin black gloves dusty. A green bandana covered in abstract line draws holds her mouse brown hair back from her face, and she carrys a heavy coil of rope over one slender shoulder. She smiles at the butterfly, then continues on her way to where a large vinyl banner lies crumbled beside the gate to the grounds.
Crouched beside the banner, B doesn't immediately look up from hir tablet, finger swiping rapidly against its screen. Ze is dressed in black capris, a lacey spaghetti-strap crop top, iridescent rainbowy platform sandals. Hir brows have knit together deeply, though they even out slightly when ze looks up again. "How are you planning to vet all these people anyway? I'm pretty sure at least half these entries are troll contestants."
"If humans really /want/ to compete so bad they can have at." Shane shrugs, starting to smooth the banner out to its full length. "Security's going to be tight enough anyway but it's not like I'm fucking /gene/-testing anyone. People really want to try the obstacle course against Flicker good fucking /luck/ mutant or not."
"It's still a problem if all those troll contestants don't /show up/ to get themselves properly trounced." Desi sets the rope down and holds the opposite end of the banner from Shane. "Because you still have to make schedules and such around the registration numbers, no?" She pauses and cocks her head to one side thoughtfully. "Will there be any rules around just...teleporting directly to the finish line, or somesuch?"
"I'm doing my best to weed them out but --" B shrugs, lips pressing together in a faint grimace. "I could just make you robots to compete in all the no-shows' places," she offers brightly.
Shane's mouth opens -- in silence, inner eyelids sliding shut. Head tilting slightly to one side as he studies his twin in faint bemusement for a moment. Shakes his head quickly, turns his attention to Desi instead. "Uh -- no? Not -- as such? I mean, there's guidelines for what you need to /do/ to finish each event. So like you can't teleport to the end of the obstacle course and still win cuz you've skipped all the... obstacles. But you can teleport to each obstacle no problem."
"Your brother should compete." B's smile is a little crooked. "Throw a hitch in /everyone's/ game."
Shane's nose wrinkles. "... not the robots'."
"...nor the /humans./" Desi grins as she takes up the rope again, loosing the knot that holds it to itself and beginning to unwind it. "Would it be against the rules in interfere with other contestants, though? Except in events where that's the /point/ of the contest, obviously."
"Forget Olympics it's just going to be mutant Calvinball all over the place." B seems pleased with this thought, at least. "It's only fair, right? I mean, not everyone's abilities translate easily into /athletic/ prowess but that doesn't mean they shouldn't get to show off."
Shane snorts, scrubbing knuckles against his cheek. "You only say that 'cuz he couldn't fuck with /you/."
B's eyes open wide and innocent. "Of course he couldn't. I'm human as they come."
This elicits a louder snort from Shane. "You have work after this?" he busily ignores B to ask Desi. "I'll take you to dinner. It's like pay but without the... paying."
"If messing-with-other-contestants is allowed anyway, Matt could absolutely mess with anyone he liked--human, robot, shark, whatever--so long as he has someone nearby to use." Desi lashes the rope firmly to grommetted corner of the banner. "You might want to exact a promise of sportsmanlike conduct from him beforehand." Then, shrugging. "You know you don't need to take me out, but I'm free if you /want/ to."
"Don't think he's going to have a shortage of /ammo/." B sets hir tablet down, slowly stretching up to a standing position. "But I'm pretty sure that's not allowed."
"Then we're totally on for pho. -- And not in general, no." A small frown is pulling at Shane's brows. He scampers a short way down the length of the banner to continue lacing the rope through its grommets. "I'd hope we're going to have sportsmanlike conduct from /everyone/ or this is going to get -- /real/ interesting."
"'Real interesting' is what folks are paying to see, no?" Desi straightens up, keeping hold of her corner of the banner and looking up at where it will eventually go. "In all seriousness, I'm sure that Matt and most everyone we /know/ who are competing will be on their best behavior for Evolve's sake if nothing else. But any trolls who /do/ show up..."
"Everyone we know being the operative -- term there." B circles around to the front of the banner, squinting at it as the others thread it. "Ion'll probably be thrilled about any trolls who do show up. He's --"
"-- a little /too/ excited to be helping with security." Shane's smile twitches -- kind of lopsided.
"When is he not?" B's hands spread. "That'll be real interesting, too, anyway." She rocks up onto her toes, following Desi's glance towards the ceiling. "Hurry up. I want pho now."
Desi manages to make /her/ snort of laughter sound dignified, somehow. "I'd pay just to watch Ion bounce people. In the theoretical reality where I'm not poor." She takes the remaining coil of the rope, hefts it in hand, and hurls it up. A lifetime of camping in Appalachia has honed in her a very specific skill for performing this precise act. The rope unfurls gracefully as it flies, her aim not perfect but more than adequate to loop over the beam that they'd selected to support the banner.
She steps out of the way as the tail of the rope whips down, and wrapping her hand around it hoists down with all her might. The vinyl banner jerks upward and billows out in the breeze like a sail, giant blue letters vivid on a white background: 'Welcome to the Evolympics!'