Most of his body was a suggestion, a distortion in the air, while the rest was made up mostly of pale orange flame. His core was bright red, but even ...hat was faded compared to what you’d expect from a literal god of destruction.But, still ... did we manage to have an impact, somehow? In spite of everything? And, he chose the unburned section of arena to sit on... However, it seemed there was nothing to do so long as we remained bound. We were completely powerless, without a prayer to hope for. The guy couldn't speak a word of English, but he wasn't stupid. He was grinning like a possum the whole time, and returning all the gestures in kind. I think if somebody had given him the finger, he'd have returned that, too.We didn't get a chance to see the professor after the game, because of all the confusion with the press. I imagine Mr. Hiroka figured it out all right.I didn't get a shot at the Angels in either of the following two games, but we took two out of the three and were ready to. More

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