Phase 8, part 2

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Our train stops in the Berlin train station and we step out of a big building seemingly made of glass

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Our train stops in the Berlin train station and we step out of a big building seemingly made of glass. The interior was almost transparent, the sheets of glass on the roof above the chaotic labyrinth of platforms, stores and escalators were tied together with a web of metal rods.

The holographic letters above the main entrance switch between Berlin - Hauptbahnhof and Berlin - Main station. Numerous zeppelin-like aircarriers carrying all kind of goods and wares fly above our heads. Berlin is now a colony of Switzerland, but its new mother country managed to boost both industrial and agricultural production and Germany's GDP is now among the highest in Europe even though some people think Switzerland turned Germany into their farm.

You're right, I love to learn new things.

The city itself has an omnipresent stigma of monumentality. There are big, heavy buildings made of stone resembling small castles, but I see also modern white skyscrapers in the distance. Germany is probably one of the countries who refused to give up their culture to make room for the progress.

It's our tradition to make a small sightseeing tour before we enter the arena. We walk through the Brandenburg Gate - the statue of the goddess of victory on a carriage fascinates me. The only downside is that because of the tournament, there are literally millions of tourists who had the same idea.

Then, to satisfy Ryan's hunger for something modern, we visit the shopping and cultural centre called Alexanderplatz. There are even more tourists than by the Gate, but it at least offers a bigger space where they can scatter. I have to give a few autograps and photos. I finally started to enjoy the attention while Ryan seems annoyed by it.

"Can't we just take five steps without any of these goddamn dorks stopping you?" he grouches out loud. "You should at least take two royals for an autograph! That's what the professionals do!"

"But I'm not on their level yet," I smile at him. "Besides, it makes me feel good when the people show they like me. You know... a year ago, I'd never guess that someone can just come to me in the street and..."

I can't even finish the sentence. A middle-aged, business-looking man rushes to me and hands me an empty box of VitaKick cereals with my photo on it. "Tempest!" he bursts out with a heavy German accent. "Können Sie bitte diese Box unterschreiben?"

Even though I don't understand a word he's saying, judging from the pen he offers me, he wants an autograph. I take the box and sign it. Then I hand it back to the man.

"Danke! Danke schön!" he nods and gives me a bright smile. "Unsere Familie lieben Sie. Auf Viedersehen und viel Glück mit das Wettkampf!"

I have a feeling that the phrase viel Glück means good luck. Well, man, I'll need it. I didn't tell Ryan that my first opponent for today is Maverick. He would dump all his calculatuions and analysis of his weak spots which work only on the paper. No offense to him or his methods, but I want this to be my fight.

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