“Still looking at those scraps of paper?”
The Ba-Matoran glanced up from the numerous paper cuttings strewn across the benches of the locker room, all of them listing various details about his opponent’s fighting style and weapon preferences... among other details. Grimacing, he waved to the newcomer, offering to let him in, and his companion accepted it.
“Voltex, you’re worrying about nothing,” the newcomer (a Matoran of Lightning) said. “Nothing is going to go wrong in this fight; you’ve been training for this for months. Heck, you’ve beaten him in this fight before.”
“You don’t know that for sure, Blade.” Voltex said absently, still inspecting the scraps of various papers. “I didn’t do all this once, with Voxumo... and that caused me to miss out on the championship round.”
“You were a rookie back then, though. You’re top of the line now – the best fighter in the league,” Blade said.
“Shadowhawk is top-notch right now as well, and he’s still finding ways to blow through any weaknesses in my style,” Voltex said, pointing towards a clip detailing a duel between himself and Shadowhawk that had taken place three weeks prior.
Blade grimaced before changing the subject. “Have you accepted that offer to join the up and coming news network as a writer?”
“Of course not,” Voltex said, snorting in derision before his eyes fell on a picture of Shadowhawk and his laughter turned nervous.
“But you’re a writer!” Blade exclaimed. “You’d be perfect! Didn’t they want you to write a historical account of Metru-Nui or something?”
“You’re a pretty good writer yourself,” Voltex noted, “but you wouldn’t accept it either.”
Blade mumbled something about not being a so-called retired writer under his breath as another Matoran clad in red armor stepped into the locker room and stopped beside them. Flinching at the unexpected arrival, Voltex knocked several of the papers out of sight by accident. The red Matoran immediately grabbed the nearest bunch of clippings, dumping them all unceremoniously into the garbade by the door. Voltex and Blade said nothing, as the red Matoran spoke.
“Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Voltex muttered, as the red Matoran handed him a sealed envelope.
“What is that?” Blade asked.
“Must be an invitation of some sort,” Voltex said, “or I’m the target of an assassination.”
“...should you just leave it, save it for after the fight?” Blade asked, before realizing that Voltex was already opening it. “Voltex! What if it’s to distract you from the fight?!”
“Oops,” the Ba-Matoran said. “Well, it is an invitation, actually. Apparently I’ve been summoned by the White Council to a private discussion once the fight is over. At least I’ll avoid the press afterwards.”
Voltex sighed and flopped onto the bench, tossing his envelope and invitation back to the red Matoran. His gaze met Blade’s and Voltex sighed again. “Should I go?”
“It’s dangerous to refuse the wishes of the Turaga,” Blade said. “They aren’t the most benevolent of rulers.”
“Then it’s settled,” Voltex said, standing and turning to the red Matoran. “Are the fans ready for me?”
“They’re always ready.”
“Good,” Voltex said. “Let’s go – I’ve got a fight to win.”
The scene above is actually a conversation from the prologue of Bionicle Mafia: Book 1 - Isolation between Blade and Voltex that I reworked; both scenes act as Blade's first appearance in their respective epic, although that's more of a coincidence than anything. If you look at them side by side, you'll be able to see what changed and what remained the same.
Anyway... I hope you're looking forward to tomorrow!