"G'evening folks, and welcome back to a new year and new battles on the Blood Bowl Pitch!"

"And here's to new disasters on the pitch as well, as teams flub and fail as they try to make a name for themselves."

"Like the disaster you had over the holiday break? You're looking better. That was fast healing."

"When you know the right healers and necromancers, anything is possible."

(Next to him is a portrait of the Team Fortress 2 Medic, holding his medigun on what appears to be a smashed up pulp that looks like an orc corpse, and a female troll flashing a peace sign with a big grin on its face. The portrait has the Medic's signature with the words "Experimentation is fun!")

"... I'm not going to ask how much that cost."

"$400,000 in sacrificed kittens, puppies, and snotlings every twelve seconds, last I checked. I just billed it to your account."

"..."

"I'm Gorgaz Toothfang, and with me is Snot Sniffly, bringing you another smashing good time on the Blood Bowl Pitch. We're into a new year, with new games, new tricks, and new facial reconstruction surgeries waiting for the players."

"After that troll hit you..."

"Yeah, I learned a lot about facial reconstruction. And reconstruction of just about everything else."

"Yet not of your brain."

"..."

"Today's beat-em-up is the rats of the Thirteen Bells of the RNG versus... oh, no, NOT AGAIN!"

(Another Borg Cube has descended to hover over the pitch and a team beams down ready for battle.)

"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile."

"Sounds like the rats are going to have a rough time. They lost their last one and took some nasty damage while we were out relaxing, including the death of a Dauntless stormvermin."

"Thirteen Bells of the RNG... that's a clever play on Nuffle's domain, while sticking to their ancestry."

"It's still a lot better than your ancestry."

"I've got more siblings that hatched in my generation than you have orcs in your entire tribe. What have you got?"

(The orc holds up his fingers, decorated with championship rings.)

"The winner of the 'Pretty Pink Princess' award ring in 4th grade doesn't count, greenskin."

"You know orcs that have made it to the 4th grade?"

"Good point."

(Gorgaz flips him off.)

"Anyway, it's time for another borg... oh wow, look at that."

(The entire arena is behind the Borg for a +2 Fame modifier.)

"... See? I TOLD you we should have gone and hid, look at the fans today! Is even ONE of them not already one of the Borg?"

"It's a long kick to the back as the Borg begin their brilliant tactical plans and the match is underway. The fistfights erupt almost instantly, and after one of the Borg goes down, team captain vlad venom wisely sneaks up behind the strongest-looking Borg available in order to assist in a beatdown from Anvilfist Krick, one of the stormvermin. The rats go down the line of scrimmage afterward smacking borg left and right as The Striker charges for the ballcarrier, blitzing through and establishing a defense by means of his prehensile tail."

"One big rat does not a defense make."

"The Borg are left to stand back up, but they do so with such a robotic, method movement that it gives me the creeps. Seven of Sixteen grabs the ball, but flubs the pass, and vlad ponders whether to foul or not. Remembering the Borg are nothing if not quick on the uptake, he wisely goes for the touchdown by going for the ball instead."

"He dodges around, grabs the ball... but is alone as the borg slowly and systematically advance. A blitz by Thirteen of Sixteen knocks him out as the ball bounces close to the rat ogre. Surrounded, The Striker is in a bit of trouble if they decide to aim for knocking out the strong part of the team."

"Sure enough The Striker is KOed as the rats move to regroup, and a wonderful blitz by Anvilfist Krick sends the ball scattering. The Borg get closer and closer as we hit the halfway point of the first half, but the rats are yet undaunted. In fact, after seeing the Striker go down, I think they're angry!

"Since when are rats NOT angry? They hate everything."

"Including you, but that's not hard to do. Everyone and everything hates you, including your outfit and the oxygen molecules you just wasted by breathing in MY air."

(The skink grins and the camera pans to the fan mail over in the corner. Snot's pile is four times as big as Gorgaz's.

"You were saying, greenskin?"

"Thirteen of Sixteen grabs the ball and the rats get back up again, going back to work on a Borg that seems to have much thicker armor plating than the rest, giving him tremendous strength. With the rats closest to the ball carrier still working on the intricacies of getting their face out of the astroturf, the Borg can now regroup and try to make a successful drive in the second half of the first half."

"With the rats down the borg can waltz right up the center of the field, moving like Gorgaz after a few hits of troll wine."

"..."

"As they move up the pitch, they attempt and fail a pass, giving the rats a chance to retaliate!"

"The rats ignore the heavy strength Eight of Sixteen and set up for a nice little blitz, striking out at their intended target and pushing the now knocked over borg onto the ball in hopes it will bounce away from the Borg. It proves a bad idea as it doesn't, but the Stormvermin work in concert to defend the ball as best they can. With the rest of the rats down they leave more than three Borg available to swarm them and get the ball back."

"With the Stormvermin covering the closest borg players the rest can do nothing but set up and bash down the rats to leave an opening for them to collect the ball at their next chance. A brilliant tactical move leaves the ball loose and the rest of the rats eating the dirt as the Borg cluster around the ball to prevent them from reclaiming it."

"When the D10, linerat for the rats, fails at trying to move farther than he thought he could, it leaves the ball wide open and the Borg will have NO problem getting to the rodent end zone now as the seconds tick down. Thirteen of Sixteen gets the ball again and with rats anywhere near him all stunned, we thus have a 1-0 game at halftime. The rats are really going to need to step up their game if they're to force this into a 2-1 grind."

"A failed dodge by a linerat and that's the opening. The borg score and the Striker AND team captain Vlad Venom are staying down."

"Fortunately it's not the end of the half yet... one kickoff is all that's available to the rats, and... nope, no good. They can't capitalize and injure the stronger borg drone they're aiming for. The Striker and Vlad Venom are STILL both down, leaving it VERY difficult for them to have a good shot at this."

(Halftime. The Gigant-O-Tron has a fresh coat of paint and of bloodstains; seems someone has been lobbing flings at it again and there's a big crosshairs spray painted in the center. This time it doesn't seem to be half-assimilated like it was the last time the borg were there. However, none of the fans are paying attention to it, being a part of the hivemind they don't need to look at it.)

"By the gods, Gorgaz. Look at all those drones. If this keeps up, the only games left to play will be things like global thermonuclear war in order to exterminate them."

"From what I've read about them, not even that will get rid of them. Their population is greater than the entire species of Skaven!"

(Gorgaz slaps down a file folder and papers spill out detailing the extent of Borg space. Snot's expression changes to one of shock, one eyebrow cocked straight up, one eye twitching and his mouth opening as he goes limp and slouches.)

"Hold that pose!"

(Gorgaz takes a picture. Snot drools.)

"Work it, work it!"

(He takes a few more pictures before Snot's brain reboots itself.)

"... ... HEY! Gimme that!"

(Halftime ends while Snot is chasing Gorgaz around the newsroom trying to get the camera before he uploads the pictures to a secure location.)

"We're back as the second half gets underway and I get myself a nice little bit of... padding for future negotiations..."

"Padding for your bra, perhaps?"

"..."

"Both coaches seem to be tactically assessing the situation rather well, and the rats set up for the second half, spreading a zone defense out over their backfield in order to catch the incoming kickoff... and... wait, what's this?"

"Look at that! An orc shaman sneaks onto the field and casts Gitka's Strength on one of the rats in the backfield, boosting his punching power! And the ball is kicked RIGHT TO HIM in a clean kick! The ball lands right in his paws! Maybe they have a shot at this after all!"

"Don't count on it, they're still outnumbered."

"A little outnumbering never stopped the rats, and it's not about to start now."

"The Borg are now on the move and advance on the now strengthened ball carrier, completely unafraid of his now bulging muscles. Will the rats advance and score quickly to tie it or will they aim to stall for a one one tie? If history has shown anything, it shows stalling is not a favorable tactic."

"Wait a minute... look at that, what ARE they doing? Their cage broke and they scattered all over the pitch!"

""Maybe they're trying to fake out their opponents."

"Hard to fake out a robotic humanoid... thing..."

"Six of Sixteen smashes the D12 to the ground, breaking his arm while the rest of the Borg swing around and try to cut off the rats on one sideline. Now the ballcarrier is surrounded by a Borg cage with nobody to assist him. He tries as best he can to blitz out, but the Borg snag his tail by using some kind of... attachment on their arms, and the D10 falls to the ground stunned as the ball pops loose."

"Another Borg charges one of the Stormvermin... the new blitzer called The Blazerunner they just bought to replace the killed one from the last match, and... down he... DOWN HE GOES! He's dead!"

"You could say he went out in a running blaze of glory?"

"After that hit, he's not running from anything ever again, including the reaper! The rats are out of bodies. There's no way they can salvage a tie out of this."

"People would also fail to salvage a tie from what passes for your wardrobe, greenskin."

"... shaddap."

"Thirteen of Sixteen grabs the ball and the only thing the rats can do is send Anvilfist Krick in to try and cover him, but it's a poor play at best and the Borg are free to robotically march into the end zone for a 2-0 score."

"The Striker hears the roars of the crowd and FINALLY gets off his tail to join his fellows on the line. It's about time he got up, but it's too late in the game to make any sort of difference."

"Anvilfist Krick moves back to grab the ball and flubs it, and the Borg push the rats back as they advance. We're in the closing moments as the Borg simply overwhelm the rodents with sheer numbers, and with the ball open they focus on keeping rats down before running in for that final score as the final few seconds tick down in the first game of the new year. The Borg win, 3-0, and the rats go home minus ANOTHER STORMVERMIN. Two kills in the last two games. Rough luck for the rodents."

"And if we stick around here any longer, we're going to be the next ones killed!"

(Gorgaz grabs Snot by the tail and runs out of the room before the Borg can materialize in and assimilate the camera technology again.)