In an alternate universe 2020 several women make shocking discoveries about the world and their sexualities. Follow each character as their serial stories intertwine with a greater over arching narrative. This is a continuation from https://www.watt...
A blaring advertisement for a meal replacement supplement ended. A logo made of consummate circles assembled itself from computer generated elements, then shattered. After a fade, a woman with swirling blond hair, a confident smile, and an ostentatious gold and acid green dress stepped into the center of the frame.
"Hi, I'm April Savage broadcasting live from the Azure Heights Entertainment Nexus. As you can see behind me, the Riverside Memorial Colosseum parking lots are still full to bursting. Even though police on the ground are expecting the gridlock to last well past 1 am, everyone we interviewed seemed pumped from the show tonight. Many gladiators pass through the Colosseum's intrepid archways every year, but unlike the RMC's namesake, your wont find bloodsport taking place within its walls. The people who take center stage here share an important duty with the gladiators in ancient Rome: they're entertainers first and foremost and if you buy a ticket on the right nights you may even get to hear the lion's roar." The woman stepped to the side and gestured to the massive screen behind her.
Flanked by a dozen men and women in glistering white outfits festooned with peacock feathers, a woman with platinum silver hair, and a mithril blue dress cried to the sky, belting out notes that would make an opera singer blush. As she cut off the note with a clasp of her fist, the crowd erupted into an avalanche applause and cheers.
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"The role of lion tonight was played by none other than Veera Deva, the twenty year old ascendant music icon. Of course! Who else could pack the stadium's eighty thousand seats? Before last year's Olympic games, the last time the arena was completely filled was when a controversial Balkan Federation band performed there in 2014. Like the siren songs spoken about in ancient Greek tales, Miss Deva left her audience enraptured with her voice while lasers and pyrotechnics shined into the sky. Even with ear ringing and wallets aching from overpriced stadium beers, everyone we talked to couldn't help but praise -"
Veera muted the broadcast with a click of the remote and tossed it atop the gilded dressing room vanity. She pulled out her earplugs and tossed them into the trash. Then, with a haphazard swat against her back, she unzipped the blue one piece leotard and peeled it off her lithe form. After grabbing a huge puffy bathrobe, she collapsed into an equally soft couch.
Not even a minute later the dressing room door opened revealing a rotund man with a grey suit jacket covering a tropical shirt. With a scowl and a shake of his head, he shut the door. "Boring."
Veera sighed. "Then go find a game or something, Dwight." She said, using his first name as a pejorative.
"No. Your performance was boring. By the number. It was adequate. Fine. Passable. Good enough. You were phoning it in."
"That's not what the lady on the TV said. I did the songs perfectly. Like we practiced. Everyone cheered. That's my job. If you want exciting give me a guitar, or piano, or a hurdy gurdy. Give me literally any of the dozen instruments I know how to play, then I'll give you an exciting and lively performance."
