CVnU: Fight Club

King, begins prowling the area .......

Marv catches a thug and it drops this flyer... so he arrives at the scene to scout for baddies.

@proxy_: I feel like you need to get a stern talking to.

@arquitenens: probably lol

Might think about a little retooling. But part of me also wonders should I probably talk to Azzy first since it was a joint venture.

@ersatz: Maybe I'll throw a post in here

Every morning, the Bison is greeted by Death. She goes by other names too. When she calls herself "God", he knows it's going to be a bloody day.

That is the dangerous trap of being in a relationship isn't it? Those mornings where you catch a brief stare into the eyes of the one you chose to love. As the morning haze sets a cool hue over the curvature of their natural face and the still resting silence of the day before the madness of everyone and everything else sets in– those seconds of divine comfort where you feel most confidently that this is the one you'd rip another human apart for.

It's funny how love inspires violence within.

God wants blood today.

The Bison asks how much?

She says she couldn't get enough of what he's giving.

After giving so much blood over the years– and bringing so many people to death– the Bison finally found himself maturing. The moment of clarity that hit him this morning: Love is not just bringing roses, it is finding the right flower to pick.

He wasn't going to kill anyone in the fight club. He was just going to beat the shit out of everyone who challenged him–

–Until someone was worthy of Death.

Hmm...

...Hmm

@damian_knight: Too late. I already called dibs.

@rosso:

@damian_knight: You think you can just "call" me?

@rosso:

@damian_knight:

@rosso:

@damian_knight: I wouldn't worry about it for you.

@ran:

Valentina glared at her weary reflection in the cracked mirror and wondered how she'd been reduced to this. When she first secured the Soul Lavaliere it all showed so much promise. Her machinations were perfect, her plan couldn't fail. And yet, a succession of bad bets and dead ends later she found herself scraping at the bottom of the barrel, taking uncharacteristically high risks for the longest shot at a marginal success.

Gamblers called it "tilt." Her father would've punished her for allowing it to leak into her mind and influence her campaign. She knew how to manage in response to tilt but she wasn't alone anymore. She often doubted she was really in control of her own actions at all. But the sentient stone assured her there was an individual of value at this club, that she could walk away with a notable gain if she played her cards right. It'd even save her the trouble and point him out once he arrived.

Valentina still couldn't say whether the argument was convincing or the lavaliere had merely made a formality of a decision already settled, but she'd phoned her sponsor and booked a private transport from Gothic to New York before nightfall.

And then Sorabella's daughter was no more. As Tegan "Honey Bee" Langstroth, however, she felt right at home within the stained walls of the old mansion. She lived for the spotlight, the cage. The jeering crowd. The failure of self-esteem that led one to embrace the humiliation of being stripped half-naked and beat on by some stranger, all for the chance of a few moments' praise from a transient crowd more like bloodthirsty hyenas than humans.

But there and then, even that was secondary. She'd come firmly set on her goal, and nothing could be worth leaving empty-handed. So, hands wrapped, she found her opponent as the lavaliere directed, proposing her game with a lofty grin that'd make Conor McGregor blush.

"Oi, friend—Oop! I guess friend is a wee bit, well, friendly, considering we're set to be havin' a romp in the ring fairly soon. But what's a random cagefight between strangers, right? Anyway, I just wanted to see you for myself, wish you good luck and make sure there won't be any hard feelings when I'm done with you," she said, turning to leave—before spinning right back around on her heel as though she'd forgotten something extremely important. "Oh! So I don't forget, I was also wondering if you'd be interested in making our contest a tad more...interesting. Raise the stakes, just between the two of us, with a little wager on theoutcome?"

Despite the relatively innocent overtones, her physical presence admitted she was anything but. And that, she thought, was the appeal. If this was in fact a long shot, there was no one on Earth better for the job.

@rosso:

@damian_knight: That's your retort?

@rosso:

@damian_knight: Here's a tip:

@rosso:

@rosso

The Bison is quick to dismiss dogs because barking mutts don't require much more than a flex to fall in line. Or better yet, a knock out, in this bloodsport. But when a wolf approaches, he feels the air sharpen and his mental switch out of passive mode.

Behold, the wolf. The Crimson. The "Honey Bee", chanted the crowd.

"I'm not one for bets or wagers." The Bison mumbles as he wipes a streak of the last opponent's blood off of his shoulder. Then he turns towards his corner man, who unwraps the Bison's fists in exchange for a shot of Bourbon. After taking out his red mouth piece and knocking down the liquor, he continues, "There's not much I want from other people. S'not good business for me, ya'know?"

Now conscious of his bruising knuckles. The Bison hovers at about 70%.

70% reason | 20% reflexes |10% intrigue.

Then, the music spoke to him. God is she. Someone had to be the night's pick, and the air seemed right for the picking. He'd missed it earlier, but the Bison noticed himself re-wrapping his hands now.

60% | 20% | 20%

"Judging the by the crowd though, I'm sorta a guest in your home. So I won't take offense to you steppin' in my ring tonight." 55% | 25% | 20%. The Bison bites back down on his mouth piece. "Hell, let's hear this bet of yours."

Red lights shower down upon the cage. The Bison rolls his wrists around and tries to breathe in the fire from the air. He turns toward his opponent with a slight hunch, the way one wolf sizes up another, and the audience behind her, disappears in his eyes.

30% | 40% | 30%

@ran:

Tegan read a story of progress across his face and her face stretched, slowly, almost to the very edge of what could be considered "natural," into a Cheshire cat grin that suggested frequent wrestling with mania.

"I want you," she said flatly. "Not eternally, mind you, and I'm not talkin' small shit like 'carry my bags.' All I ask is that, should I win, I'm able to employ your skills in an unlimited capacity, for a limited time, in service of a particular endeavour."

Her weight shifted impatiently between feet, looking through him more than at him. She seemed to have calmed somewhat but was no less enthralled by the ideas in her mind. This was all a formality, sure, but at least she could say she gave him a shot at volition.

@rosso

"Uh-huh... My time's no cheap commodity. Should I win then, I'm gonna want something..." the Bison does a shoulder roll to check for any personal ticks. Or he does a shoulder roll to hide the act of scanning his opponent once more for value.

25% | 40% | 35%

"How's about that rock around ya neck?" The Bison watches The Bee's face for any signs of emotion to the proposition. Then, he marches towards the center of the ring with a fist out, hoping to signal their agreement to the terms.

"You won't miss that too much right, friend?"

@ran:

A series of emotions - confusion, shock, and indignation - chased one another across her features, and once she'd fully processed his terms, Tegan recoiled as though physically from pain.

And then she smirked, manic excitement settling her once more in the moment.

It's almost impossible not to react to unpredictable news in some way. A good con knows how to turn those tails into an advantage.

"Been in my family for generations, and it's the only thing I've got left from me mum, of course I'd miss it." She fixed him with a wasplike glare that never wavered, never left him even as she backed off, removed the necklace and handed it off to a haggard-looking Hispanic young man from the crowd. "But if I wouldn't, it wouldn't really be a gamble," she said, returning to the centre. She gave his fist a callous punch, casual but thudding, before receding to the edge, leaning carelessly against the cage with her hands low behind her back as the bell rang.

@rosso

The deal's a deal then...

The Bison respectfully tightens up the bounces of his stance with each step back to his corner until he looks as fluid and still as a brazen monk in his orthodox fighting pose.

The bell rings. He thinks of the color red in several flashes of blood, hair, and the yellow stone in red demonic hands. His fiery God whispers "kill" in the Bison's ear and he warmly mumbles "Not a second too soon".

0% | 50% | 50%

Marching in for a jab, The Bison's eye contact is sharply locked in as he circles around the left side of his opponent in basic guarding positioning. As soon as he can, the Bison opens with a left jab and fake left hook to set up a right uppercut.

His reflexes aren't necessarily looking for big results out of these blows. No, he is just exercising some adrenaline. Trying to measure her speed. Trying to say with fists, let's dance.

@ran:

Fighting from the outside would do her no favors in the long run - she'd have to close the distance or it'd be a short night for her, but above all things she needed first to assess his cadence and timing. Lazily prying herself from the cage, the Honey Bee declined meeting him in the center of the cage, instead settling into a light energetic bounce and circling, southpaw, to her right. Maintaining lead leg dominance. Lining her own rear side down the centre while depriving her opponent any easy power shots.

Staying far outside meant a safe space to analyze but left her at the mercy of the taller opponent, his longer limbs. But as long as he's focused on his punches...To keep from being steamrolled she'd have to give him something to be wary of right away. As the Bison entered behind his jab Tegan changed levels just slightly, slipping her head whilst ripping an inside leg kick in an attempt to disrupt the rhythm of his footwork and volley of strikes, and temporarily halt him in place. Following this with a full switch back to southpaw--a hard outside leg kick to the tender flesh just above his knee--placing her back in a lead-leg dominant position so she could return to her fleet-footed dance.

@rosso

*Ptt*PKK*

The inner leg shot could be worked through with adrenaline, but the heavier impact of the kick to his lower left quad made his combo whiff.

A'ight then, he'd think, just beyond arms length of the opponent. The Bison indulges in the sweet science of this fight. Which looks looks like him shaking out his longer left leg for a second in response to The Honey Bee. Then he's back in.

0% | 70% | 30%

Steadily chasing down his target with a series of purposely sequential half and full-extended straight left jabs, the Bison seemingly looked to put the zoner up against the cage walls. However the placing of his foot work was noticeably closer. The positioning of his right block waited just below shoulder range. His core, more neutral with his hips. His face, calculating–counting.

@ran:

Both kicks landed emphatically but the Bison wore them well. If not for the interruption to his combo she wouldn't have been sure she'd had any effect at all. But while the shadow-dwelling assassin might have been flustered, the backroom brawler was ultimately unbothered by the lack of response. Her strikes served every intended purpose. Giants rarely toppled in one shot but if she kept chopping, one way or another he'd be forced to react or he would fall.

She would have both. All that had to be seen was how the sequence would occur.

But she'd only just begun figuring him out. Were the Quiet Man so simple a puzzle to solve he could hardly be worth serving her in any meaningful way. With only a momentary lapse he resumed his active pressure. Imposing, depriving her of the space she needed to work.

Not quite as one-dimensional as he looks. Although he'd seemingly failed to react or adapt to her kicks, a series of sharp jabs stung her nose, whipped her head and made clear that even if his available tools were comparatively limited (that remained to be seen), he understood their variable applications in the bigger picture. And he hadn't even started to apply himself yet. Those jabs stung but more than anything they were a warning. A challenge.

Her immediate imperative - get off of the cage.But he thus far unwilling to commit. Waiting, then, for some opening from her. She gave him one. Lifted her leg for a front kick—a feint to draw a reaction and slow him down incrementally—before planting and firing another hard inside kick to his lead leg. This one, however, followed by a slight level-change and overhand left. Whether her strike landed, or he was able to slip or block, she'd take the opportunity created by his subsequent reaction to further her lead, darting on her lead leg and pivoting to face, returning to a more neutral space sans her back to the wall.

@rosso

The Bison had already broken down the game theory in his head for two brackets of decision nodes. This is were reflexes bargain for more opportunity out of each passing second. Were the Crimson to throw a punch, he would have responded in kind. Where she to try another kick, he was going to try his best to absorb it.

The first kick, a non starter, met with minimal interruption.

Another split-second round of decisions concluded: he'd reply tit-for-tat either way (punch or kick).

So she goes for the inner leg, which he has less difficulty dodging because of his modified stance. Rosso's overhead follow-through was a narrow miss though as he was preparing to launch a low kick, but abruptly had to weave.

His facial expressions always become more blank in heated situations. The Bison see's she wants distance and he considers letting her have it. This recess in the middle of match now saw The Bison pulling at cage behind him. Using the steel to exercise some frustration. The malleability of that chunk of metal in his hand was soon put to test as he pulled it forward between thoughts.

The Music shifts.

F*ck it.

0% | 80% | 20%

He marches right towards the opponent once more. Just beyond arms reach the Bison launches his lead quad up midway for a kick, but preforms a swift switch aiming his right ankle for her head. Upon landing, he'd attempt a full stance switch to southpaw were he was clearly waiting for her to try another kick against his faster right hand.

@ran:

Supremely confident, the Underground Queen drifted to the center of the cage, smiling languidly despite her whiffs. She'd done as she intended, shuffling in a dance of sorts as if to celebrate being centre stage again. And she met him again at the critical distance line. But before she could determine her next course of action he was pressing his advantage.

Every action and reaction - every false move - had greater consequences for her. He could afford to be a bit more reckless, and she was that much more on edge. Lifting her leg to check what she thought was an incoming low kick, only too late Tegan realized she'd been duped. Nothing she could do but brace.

The impact felt like little more than a dull thud. The kick itself she couldn't even remember, finding herself scrambling across the mat with no idea how she'd even gotten there. Just the instincts for self-preservation and for retaliation. Scrambling to her feet, willing the stars to stop dancing in her eyes, the undeterred fighter proceeded as though she'd never been stricken at all.

Heavy. He was waiting on her again. And he was still relatively heavy on his legs, still content to bank on a topside boxing counter to anything she threw. Even if she could land another chopping kick to his thigh, he was more dangerous because he was more durable in almost every way that mattered.

Almost.

He'd partly neutralized his advantage when he opted for a passive counter attack and Tegan seized the opportunity as soon as it presented itself. Barely feinting her go-to leg kick to draw his commitment to any sort of counter-reaction, she darted full-sail into a complete level-change—an Imanari roll/heel hook targeting his rear leg. Throwing her momentum and body weight to completely sweep the leverage point from under him. But whether he went down easily or fought to maintain his footing didn't matter. Once she latched on he'd be completely at her mercy. The Honey Bee had no intention of testing his mettle or intelligence. She'd come for blood. Even on a much bigger opponent the ankle was fragile. And she was going to break it.

From a dull silence, a roar begins. Dozens of hands begin clapping together as the name ‘Bloodspill’ is chanted by everyone. Slowly the crowd parts and a lone figure draped in a cloak and hoodie stands on the far side of the room begins making his way through the crowd, while the rest continue to make a fuss over him. Soon enough he reaches the center, as the crowd morphs around him, awaiting the moment he removes his hood and addresses them all. Standing just under six feet tall, in one fluid motion rips the cloak from off his body to reveal a being more beast than man with metal claws on both hands and feet. But instead of a glorious kick a$$ catch phrase to get the crowd going, he lets out a primal roar, that echoes off every wall! Immediately, the crowd cheers back in unison, along with the occasional hoops and hollers, clearly showing off both their fanboyism and fear of the beast ready to fight.

Already Bill begins swiping his claws through the air, so fast that it appears more as a blur than anything else, followed by digging his feet into the ground or as close as he can to a vibrainium floor. Again the room is filled with the name ‘Bloodspill’ over and over, as everyone waits to see who will stand against him! In the mean time Bill continues to look around, making double sure no one could attack him from a blindside, as he grips his fists tighter in preparation. Clearly he appears to be a savage animal bread to kill, but from behind his eyes is a glimpse of a true born fighter with more on his mind than just the next round!