Note - Instead of doing a group of shorter stories, I figured I would try my hand at doing a longer character piece. Bear in mind that I'll be using a practice that I've been using in the VHL of colouring the lines of each character for ease of understanding. It's recommended that you read this media piece with the SHL dark theme on. Your eyes are important, don't damage them over me. Lines coloured in this red belong to Anton's new agent, while lines in blue belong to Anton Harrier.

While his time at the World Juniors had certainly been useful, the one thing Anton Harrier got from it was that he really needed an agent. Perhaps even more so than figuring out when a book was a legitimate translator or not (the fact his first interaction at Finland was getting hit across the head with lutefisk by an old lady certainly proved his friends' point that his book was not reliable or accurate), dealing with an agent was certainly a sound idea, something that he imagined he could probably get pretty easy, given his status as a hockey player and all.

Knowing his plight, his relatives-in-law (Yoshimitsu McCloud begrudgingly so but still) recommended the name of a man who apparently had a surprisingly long career in many fields but had since moved into the player agency business. It all led him to a hotel in the middle of Delaware. He had to admit that this was probably a first in more ways than one, he still wasn't sure how he ended there but he did follow directions. Surely a bunch of ninjas would know best about that sort of thing, even if one of those clearly hated his guts.

Still, he stepped inside. The inn didn't seem particularly bad by any stretch, the place was well-kept, well-lit and the smell of hot chocolate certainly helped anyone to feel at home. Of course, he reached out to the receptionist about a sports agency, to which she replied with a smile while pointing to an unassuming door and a small sign with the words "Sports Agency" written in marker. Anton took a good look at the sign and the lady before deciding to just go on, walking towards the door. He took a deep breath, knocking at the door before a yell of "Enter!" made him open his way in.

As he properly got a look at the room, Anton was in for somewhat of a shock. While the room itself was rather unassuming, the walls were decorated with a large number of memorabilia. He could tell many of those were soccer jerseys but there were other bits and pieces that belonged to other things. In particular, he noticed a gathering of golden trophies from what seemed to be Pokémon placed directly under a pair of crossed snowboards. A voice started to talk, snapping him back to the matter at hand. "Nice, eh? I imagine you're not here for a tour, though."

He turned around, finding a towering man sitting on a comfortable chair behind a mahogany table. His skin was somewhat tanned and his hair was dark. A large, pearly smile followed. "Ah, eh... well, uh... I'm Harrier..." Anton blabbed, his cockiness somewhat taken aback from him. He couldn't really tell why, if it was the size or the accomplishments. Still, the presumed agent remained nice and comfortable in his place. "Ah, right, right. The ninjas told me about it, you're Anton Harrier of the Nevada Battleborn. I had my eye on you before they told me about you but I couldn't quite tell why. You kinda look familiar, I guess." The Irish man rose an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Like how? I look like who?"

The agent grinned and with a smile, let out what he thought. "Rodney Mullen. Y'know, the guy who invented so many tricks. I take you're into skateboarding as well. I'm not sure if I'd recommend you to try and juggle both, your knees ain't gonna like the result." Anton had to admit this was a first. Still, the man hadn't introduced himself yet, something he was quick to push on. While he lost a bit of his step as he did so, the agent did answer Anton's request. "Fair enough. Some friends call me Matt but usually, people just call me Thunfish. Thun for short. I kinda assumed it was just an Anglosaxon thing but I can't tell you why it's that way - you kinda just go with the flow, y'know."

Odd names out of the way, Anton found the word Anglosaxon a tad odd - as if the man wasn't from there. His hunch was correct for the man was a Brazilian. "Yeah, I was born there but I moved away to play ball. Soccer to be precise. Took trials to play in Europe, played a season in the Netherlands for some little village side called Schubbekuteveen and took them to the Champions League, then spent a stint playing for this British side called Radford where we won Europe. Spent five years in Japan afterwards - played for some small clubs you probably never heard of, tried wrestling, then found a great time in Snowboarding. Guess the Pokémon thing came on the side as well." The agent seemed like a weird character, that's for sure, but Anton guessed that this was to be expected from someone the McClouds recommended. "That's... quite a lot, aye. Why didn't you keep going with those careers, anyways? You won a bunch of stuff, by the looks of it."

He let out a little wheeze, placing his feet over the desk. "Eh, time. One day, you're fighting dragons with the kind of heat and fuel that few can think of. Another day, you're chilling alone in bed to the tones of the Beatles. And then, you kinda realize things are already far too common and you're better off just exploring new grounds. The weird thing is that time just passes slowly for me. I don't feel old. You look like the kind of guy that would fit that pretty well. I mean, Yoshi isn't old either but he tried his best at the SHL before bouncing off. He's still playing these days, you know." He sounded melancholic but accurate, the look on this face never really looking sad or anything.

Thun grinned. "I got the call for him. Couldn't have been more perfect, he gets to spend time with his hun' while still skating his heart out in the middle of Switzerland." Anton looked suspicious at the man, the realization that his brother-in-law was apparently playing for a team from a town called Thun made him think. "Oi... Do you own that town?" The agent looked at him with an even bigger grin than usual. "Nah. The name thing is just a coincidence, I assure you. Besides, even if I wanted to, the place's probably expensive. It's Swiss, after all."

"So you're good enough to get me out there, basically? Like, what do I get if I sign with you and all?" The agent shrugged. "I'm not gonna give any crazy gifts but I can guarantee competence. The work of an agent is kinda boring, I get to handle your negotiations with the aim of reaching out for the kind of stuff you want, which means we'll have to get in touch regularly. I work with some guys who are a bit out there but they often give some good results. Never heard any complaints myself but we don't really aim for superstars here. The closest thing to that is a wrestler, I think you might've heard of him."

That got Anton puzzled. He looked at the man with curiosity. "Heh. Next thing you know, you're gonna tell me The Tempest is one of your clients." Thun shook his head but liked the sound of it. "Nah. Sunny Day Holiday is my client. Y'know him, right? Black hair, white face paint, mist, technical wrestler, y'know the drill." Anton's eyes widened as the agent gave him a framed picture with the wrestler. Sunny Day Holiday's nightmare-ish façade was present on a picture with a smiling Thunfish. Surely, the end of days had arrived and the self-proclaimed abbot of the disaster was proud... and Anton was fanboying. "...and you'll know my name is Theravada, for when my vengeance is laid upon theeself! Oh, man, I'm a big fan... never thought I'd see someone who knows him!"

Thun smirked. "So, you're in?"

A week later.

His eyes stared at the piece of paper - a copy of the contract he had signed back in the trip. The agent assured him he'd come up with some fun ways to get his name out there. Anton sighed, looking outside through the window of his room. "Eh. As long as I don't go to an anime convention, I'm fine."

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