"Welcome, fellow Rhodes Island operators, to the live grounds of the Second Annual Chair Sliding Tournament! I am your host, Elite Operator Blaze!"
When Jeanne wandered over to the flight deck to check out the commotion, she found the normally spacious deck completely packed to the brim with onlookers. A dense crowd jostled for position, peering with bright curiosity at the improvised racetrack laid out before them.
On a raised stage nearby stood two Feline operators handling hosting duties. The older, blue-furred cat was none other than Rhodes Island Elite Operator Blaze, though Jeanne couldn't quite place the quiet, white-furred child sitting beside her.
"I am... Elite Operator... my name... I forgot."
The small white cat introduced herself in a soft, airy voice, though her memory seemed a bit fuzzy, leaving her unable to recall her own name at that exact moment.
"Right! She's Elite Operator—and I'm sure everyone recognizes this darling child—she's our very own, super cute Rosmontis!"
Blaze scooped the white feline into her arms for a sudden, enthusiastic hug, rubbing her cheek against hers. Rosmontis blinked, looking thoroughly dazed by Blaze's unbridled affection.
"Umm..."
Unsure how to react to Blaze's overwhelming warmth, the child simply sat there, letting the older operator fuss over her. After a few moments, Blaze composed herself, cleared her throat with an exaggerated cough, and returned to her official duties.
Or at least, Jeanne assumed that was what brought Blaze back to business. She thought she caught a flash of movement—a crushed aluminum can flying across the deck and landing square on Blaze's head. Considering the distance between the track and the stage, a hit that precise seemed almost unnatural.
Then again, the participants were Elite Operators. When it came to those individuals, basic physical limits were more of a suggestion.
"That girl... I explicitly told her I didn't approve of Rosmontis being dragged into this noise," Kal'tsit remarked with a tired sigh, watching the energetic host and the utterly bewildered child beside her.
"So the child was brought up there against her will?" Jeanne asked, finding it odd. From what she knew of Blaze, the operator was fiery and passionate, but hardly the type to force someone into uncomfortable situations.
Looking at Rosmontis's utterly confused expression, she really did look like someone who had been hauled onto the stage without a clue as to what was happening.
"Unlikely," Kal'tsit replied, shaking her head. "Blaze may appear reckless on the surface, but she actually possesses a sharp sense of order. Her outer demeanor is just that—a facade. What's far more likely is... Rosmontis simply forgot."
Rosmontis's fragile memory was a constant source of concern for Kal'tsit. It was a condition she was currently unable to cure, made all the more dangerous by the child's raw, unstable Arts—a sudden shock could trigger a catastrophic, instinctual response against those around her.
"Regardless, back to the action! As you can see, our contenders have taken their positions at the starting line! If anyone else wants to throw their hat into the ring, sign up right away—Rhodes Island has plenty of rolling chairs to go around! Ah, look there! The champion of our inaugural tournament, Logos, has arrived! Can he defend his crown today? Rosmontis, do you remember Logos? What are your thoughts on our reigning champion?"
Blaze's voice boomed over the public address system as she immersed herself in her role, taking care to pull Rosmontis into the commentary.
"A very pretty... big brother?" Rosmontis offered in her gentle, floating tone. Jeanne could have sworn she saw Logos wince down on the track, clutching his chest as if struck by a phantom blow.
"Wait, why was that a question?" Blaze muttered under her breath, before catching Logos throwing a distinctly petty glare in her direction and instantly pivoting. "Moving right along! Let's check out our other contenders! Stepping up to the line next is the runner-up of the inaugural tournament—Scout!"
The Elite Sniper made his entrance onto the track. Standing opposite Logos, Jeanne could practically see literal sparks flying between their intense, silent gaze.
"It is abundantly clear that our runner-up is looking for redemption today! Will the champion hold his title, or will Scout pull off an upset? Let's find out together as the race begins..."
As time ticked on, a dense crowd of competitors massed at the starting line, packing tightly into the narrow staging area.
Large-scale social gatherings like this were a rare treat aboard the vessel. Even if most knew their odds of taking the crown were slim to none, the spirit of participation was what truly mattered!
What had started as a casual farewell prank organized by a few Elite Operators for Logos had spiraled into a ship-wide festival. Watching dozens of operators perched awkwardly on office chairs, Jeanne felt that the overall vibe of Rhodes Island was shifting in a very strange direction.
As for Kal'tsit? The feline could only stand off to the side, looking on with helpless resignation. She didn't bother stepping in to shut it down; after all, even if the event had ballooned out of proportion, she had officially authorized it. Going back on her word now would only sour the crew's morale.
"Alright, everyone... on your marks... get set... GO!"
At Blaze's command, the competitors began squirming awkwardly, wiggling their torsos on the rolling chairs to drive themselves forward. Unsurprisingly, most operators were woefully unpracticed in such a bizarre mode of locomotion.
A good chunk of the pack tumbled right at the starting line. Yet no stampede ensued—a team of operators equipped with grapple hooks was stationed along the perimeter, swiftly hauling fallen racers out of harm's way. Absurd as the setup was, proper safety protocols had clearly been established for unexpected spills.
"And they're off! Oh, a disastrous pileup right out of the gate! But fear not, folks—our safety crew is pulling everyone out to safety immediately!"
Blaze launched into a fiery commentary, her voice drowned out by the thunderous cheers of the surrounding crowd. The uproar was so chaotic that Jeanne could barely make out what anyone was shouting.
"Taking an early lead is none other than ACE! Leveraging an agility and speed that completely defies his massive frame, he's pulling far ahead of the pack! Rosmontis, how are you liking the race so far?"
Jeanne glanced at Rosmontis sitting on the platform. Even though the child had completely forgotten why she was up there, she looked genuinely happy to be part of the lively atmosphere.
"It's very lively. Good luck, everyone."
"A huge thanks to Rosmontis for that glowing endorsement! We can see Scout closing the gap on ACE, while Logos... doesn't seem to be in any rush at all..."
"Is that Elite Operator a professional broadcaster on the side?" Jeanne asked, genuinely impressed by Blaze's commentary skills. The girl knew exactly how to work a crowd and keep the hype going.
"...That's just how she is," Kal'tsit replied after a brief silence. Recognizing her Elite Operator's unexpected flair for entertainment, Kal'tsit briefly entertained the ridiculous thought of establishing a Rhodes Island broadcasting station.
Given Blaze's personality, such a station would undoubtedly bring plenty of smiles to the crew. It was a thought worth pondering—perhaps even worth a trial run.
"We're approaching the first hairpin turn! Tight turns are notoriously brutal on rolling chairs—one wrong move, and..."
Right on cue, several racers lost control of their chairs due to excess momentum, hurtling straight off the track and crashing directly into... a wall of plush crash mats.
"A total loss of control! A tragic exit for those contenders! But don't worry, folks—those safety mats are so soft you could dive off the bridge deck and not feel a thing! Wait... Scout is making his move to overtake on the inside?!"