“I should have known it was a bad idea when their agent interrupted my lunch with his gutterspeak offer. The guy at the counter wasn't much help - though he was refusing my the dumplings I wanted he mysteriously learned english enough to relay me the message I didn't want to hear. The Wolferines wanted a match. I eyed their roster and took a long slow drag on the extra-filtered syntherette. Two werewolves, claws and all, and one had block. I knew the Saurus could take the beating that was on it's way, but I worried about the stunties.

The match started well - his defense was lacklustre at best and J.R. scored quickly, despite his chicken-headedness. I guess the fix was in, because the next drive start off with a pitch invasion. When the refs finally got the hooligans off the pitch, four of my team was on their backs, seeing stars, including most of the line. Some of them never even made it back to their feet before the ball got rushed home. At that point, the stunties decided that they wanted to taste blood in their vodka. By the half, Rachel had already eaten a dirt sandwich.

Nothing to do but keep on keeping on. In the end, it didn't turn out so bad. We would have won, too... Had a chance for it, last turn. But the pressure got to the little guy with the ball. Oh well. Rachel would have liked to get the win. Too bad for her we didn't. Lucky for me, she's dead. That way, I won't have to hear about it.”