ArchivedLogs:Palookaville
| Palookaville | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2013-05-14 FIGHT! (Part of Thunderdome.) |
| Location | |
It's a warehouse, or something like it; at least it's spacious, and was probably once industrial; at the moment it's largely just empty. There are tracks in the floor from long-since disused equipment and the construction of walls and high exposed-beam ceilings is sturdy. The center of the room has been excavated, since this place was in actual daily use. In the middle a pit has been gashed out of the concrete; it's not /deep/ and it serves more as a foundation than anything else; around its wide circular perimeter a cage has been erected. Nearly reaching up to ceiling-height, it is constructed of thick sturdy metal bars wrapped in a thinner wire mesh. Surrounding the cage there is a lot of empty space. Some nights, though, when fights are in session, the room is filled; with people, with cameras (though no outsiders' cameras are allowed in), with paper betting slips and folding chairs. The spotlights in the ceiling are bright-bright-bright, the better to illuminate the fighters within the centerpiece cage.
It's a familiar scene for the combatants. The electrified cage, the crowd clamoring for a good show. The smell of blood and bloodlust a heady combination for everyone who's in the windowless room. Currently, the crowd's rage is focused on the fight currently taking place, between a man with what appears to be rocky skin and a petite girl who doesn't look like she can withstand a rock slide. Oddly, though, it's the rock guy who looks the worse for wear -- large sections of his rocky armor have been melted away, revealing raw muscle tissue underneath. The big man moves slowly, and that is clearly his disadvantage. The girl zips around him, ducking under the slow, painful grab Rocky aims at her and /scrambling/ up his back. Her hands glow, and then rock begins to slide away under her palms. The scream that accompanies this is long and drawn-out, and is the end of the fight for Rocky. The big man sways on his feet, and pitches forward, slamming into the floor with a sound like a landslide. Blood seeps freely from his melted patches -- too much blood to hope that Rocky will be brought back to the cells. Much to the extremely vocal joy of the crowd watching. Feet are stamped, and there are even whistles of appreciation that overcome the noises of revulsion. Frenzied zapping of the shock collar brings the melter to heel, and she leaves her victim for the cleanup, huffing her way out of the cage, and through the exit. Waiting his summoned turn, Trib watches the end of the match with an impassive expression as he crunches something loudly When the girl passes him, she makes a rude gesture that indicates that perhaps /he/ will be next, and this makes his eyes crinkle. Then he's done being amused, and his gaze slides to the other man waiting. "Told you that one was one to watch," he rumbles, narrowing his eyes slightly. "She fuckin' tore through Ramon, an' he's been here nearly as long as you." Next to Trib, sitting against the wall with his head down low, Aiden speaks. His eyes fixed to the floor, it seems as if he may have missed the entire fight...or just knew exactly what would happen. His dark black hair falls in front of his eyes as the large man shakes his head slightly. "I told him not to get careless...Honestly I'm surprised he lasted as long as he did..." The man scoffs slightly before standing, his low, growling voice barely audible against the roar of the crowd. "It matters not...All our clocks are ticking...his just happened to run out, along with his luck..." The man pulls his slightly greased hair from his eyes, cracking his neck left, then right. Rolling his shoulders slowly, he grunts as he stretches his body for his upcoming match...it had been so long since he fought last, and his opponent was not one to be taken lightly. Hopefully ring-rust wouldn't be an issue... "You're a fuckin' pansy," Trib says blandly, the insult old and without heat by now. "I'm surprised they ain't put you in one o' the Big Shows, so that your bleedin' heart would bleed the fuck /out/." He also stretches, and rolls his neck, watching as two men come and hose out (most of) the blood and melted rock. Only the rock is more like mud, and the water only makes it worse. Slick. Trib rolls his neck again, and this time, there's a swirling of color in his flesh; a ruddy steel-gray that flows down his forearms and into his hands. The big man watches this, lifting his transmuted hands to regard them with an air of satisfaction. "Steel," he grunts at Aiden. "We're both gonna feel this." It's the only acknowledgment that he makes of the other man's power, pushed ahead into the ring by the collar and the tasers in the hands of their jailers. The grunt Trib offers before stepping into the ring might be a wish of luck, or it might be a goodbye. It's hard to tell, since he doesn't make eye contact. Aiden grunts in acknowledgement, a morose smile creeping across his face. "It's all been said before. I care not what you, or anyone else thinks. I care not who or what or when I fight...I just do what I'm told. You should take the hint and do the same, your neck wouldn't be so colorful..." he quips with the man as he steps forward aheaad of him. Aiden waits patiently as his opponent makes his way into the now slimy arena. He gazes to his captors as they remove the shackles around his wrists, pampering them slightly as the cuffs 'click' and fall to the ground. He breathes in deep, seeming as calm as anyone could be in such a situation. As he steps forward, the bright lights blind him slightly, a drastic change from the darkness of his cell that he'd been cooped up in for far too long. His boots crunch against the mud and grime as he makes his way to the corner opposite Trib. The crowd roars in anticipation of the next bout, two seasoned, recognizable fighters. Both with a number of wins beneath their belts. For the first time in a while, it seems...there is no clear favorite. Aiden breathes in once more, his eyes fixed on Trib as he waits for the match to begin... "What's the matter, you don't like my pretty neck?" Trib rolls his shoulders and holds up his hands for the crowd, who cheer back, as well as throw a few things like beer cans and a couple of bottles. His eyes are smug when he turns them on Aiden in his slow rotation, and he winks. "You can come an' kiss it better later," he promises, and then he's stepping to his side of the cage, his bare feet squishing in the rock-mud. If the gravel bits in it hurt his feet, he doesn't show it. As soon as the combatants are in place, a voice rings out. "Ladies and Gentlemen, now we have a match that we've gotten a lot of requests for. Two of our more experienced fighters are entering the ring. Let's give it up for THE MATTER MASTER! He'll sink his teeth into /any opponent/." Trib rolls his eyes at this imposed stage name, and holds up his hands for the required cheering. The voice continues. "And his opponent for the night -- JOE PALOOKA! You haven't seen a man take a punch until he takes a punch from Joe!" The crowd roars, the noise rolling over the cage and the fighters within. It drowns out the beginning of the fight, the dual zzaps of the shock collars urging the pair of men towards each other." Trib grimaces as the shock hits him, and he steps forward, lifting his fists slowly to hold them in front of his torso. His gaze is hard, and studious as he approaches Aiden with a grunt. Zzzap!!! The shock on Aiden's collar makes him cringe slightly. It'd been so long since he'd been fighting, and considering he's one of the more obedient captives, he hadn't been shocked in just as long. He isn't quite as used to the jolt of electricity running through his body as Trib must be. But he remembers what it means, what to do to not get shocked again... Problem is...Aiden's style is a 'wait and see' type. He likes to stand there and take a little bit of punishment first to get fired up...Trib seemed, in his other fights, a much more intelligent opponent than Aiden is used to. No way the guy'd attack first, especially considering his 'gift' was rather out in the open in this sort of situation. He stands there for a moment, his own arms raised expertly, analyzing the situation... ZZZAP!!! "Get to it!" a voice cries out from the crowd just as Aiden feels another, stronger, jolt ring through his body. He grunts loudly in response, taking the hint and pushing forward, throwing a quick jab towards Trib's head, feeling out the distance, and speed of his opponent... Trib smirks under his mask as Aiden is shocked into motion, and his eyes crinkle. It almost seems as if he's /enjoying/ this. The big man is surprisingly light on his feet, although his hands seem to be slowing him down, at the moment. Still, he slithers away from Aiden's punch, and brings up his right hand to deliver a blow to the other man's ribs. If it lands, it's like taking a fifteen pound bowling ball in the ribs. Not hard enough to break anything, but it's a solid throw. Aiden can block the strike, it comes in slow enough. He could even dodge it, if he so chose. He sees the strike coming. His arm is close enough and his mind is fast enough to react. But he doesn't. Call it arrogance, call it 'feeling out your opponent.' Call it what you will, SOMETHING in Aiden's mind tells him to just let the hit connect. It hurts...It knocks him back a step. It makes him grunt and hold his side in pain...But it makes him smile as well, for as the hit connects, he knows exactly what it means... It would have broken a rib or two of a normal man. It may bruise a tough guy. But Aiden is more than tough. He is hardened and weathered. It takes a LOT more to hurt him than it does others...But that's not the only reason he smiles. If the strike held enough power to break Trib's bones...it would. For Aiden does not feel pain alone...It's always shared with his attacker. He grins, gritting his teeth through the pain, and quickly, grab's Trib's wrist before he gets a chance to retract it. "You can do better than that," he growls in his opponent's ear, before rearing back and throwing all his weight forward, his forehead aimed directly at the bridge of Trib's nose. It's a nasty headbutt that would most likely break Trib's nose if it hits with full force... Trib grunts loudly when his fist connects, and his body hitches to favor the right, briefly as he gasps through the pain for a moment. Luckily, Trib is also hardened from years of boxing, and the blow does /not/ break his ribs, although they do creak audibly. Well, as audibly as they can, given the noise of the crowd. Trib's golden eyes widen briefly with the pain, then fall to narrow slits as Aiden grabs his wrist. As the other man pulls back his head, realization sets in. "Oh, you fucking pans -- /nnngh/." His nose gives way under the sudden collision, and there's a sudden rush of blood that earns a roar of approval from the crowd. Trib's had his nose broken before, clearly, and it only takes him a couple of blinks to clear his vision. His left hand comes around to claim Aiden's wrist like a steel clamp, and he twists his body, lowering his shoulder and attempting to pull Aiden over it and send him airborne. And airborne Aiden goes...but perhaps not in the way Trib expects. His limited training of Jujitsu reminds Aiden of a counter to this type of shoulder throw. He reacts quickly, grabbing the back of Trib's tank top, his wrist slightly behind the shock collar around his neck. As he falls through the air, he pulls down hard, attempting to pull Trib down with him and reverse the throw. Aiden looks to be faster than Trib, despite being slightly larger. His skill, however, is not his advantage. Pulling on the tank top rips it prematurely, loosening Aiden's grip, and he instead tries gripping onto the shock collar in mid-air. Trib MIGHT feel pain or discomfort from the collar scraping against his neck awkwardly...but as the two fighters collide with the hard, muddy ground, he would find he has the advantage... Trib was a street fighter long before he was a boxer, so the move of grabbing his shirt isn't entirely unexpected. The tearing is, and the big man grunts a noise that might be dismay. It was his favorite! Well, okay. His only. But he's not expecting fingers to hook into the goddamned collar and lend to his downfall. Literally. He comes down hard on top of Aiden, grunting with the double impact of their ribcages colliding. "Could at least buy me dinner first," he growls, sliding a steely gray arm over Aiden's chest in an attempt to pin his throat, adjusting his weight to further pin the man. But the positioning is awkward, and he's struggling to get into position. Aiden grunts in response as Trib lands hard on him. immediately, he traps an arm with his right, and plants his left on Trib's hip. He attempts bucking, shrimping, whatever you call it...he attempts it, throwing his hips up to escape the pin. But Trib's weight suddenly equalizes directly onto his abdomen, making it hard to escape. Aiden twists his legs to lock down one of Tribs, straightening it and putting pressure on the shin bone. If Trib hasn't hardened that perticular bone, it would be VERY uncomfortable...bone grinding against bone...The action would hurt Aiden as well...so Trib would get a double dose of agony. Not being able to get out from underneath his opponent, Aiden does the next best thing...Whomp, Whomp, Whomp! Three direct strikes with his closed fist to Trib's kidneys, before grabbing the tattered remains of his opponent's shirt, and attempting to tie up the pinned arm within it. /Fuck. Was never good with Keylocks.../ Trib grinds out a pained noise as his leg is trapped, and his steely forearm pushes at Aiden's throat, despite the hand pinning it. It's a slow push, and Trib grimaces a bit as pain shoots through his shin. He shifts his weight, perhaps to relieve pressure on his leg. Or maybe it's to avoid the blows to his kidneys. Neither of them seems very successful, though, and there's more grunts as the blows fall. "What're they doin'? /Fuckin'/?" a voice raises from the front row. "Get on with it!" The rest of the crowd seems to agree with this sentiment, and the noise rises a bit. Trib closes his eyes for a moment, and his weight shifts again as he prepares for his next move. "I'm sorry," he grunts as he pushes his arm for Aiden's throat. This time, the knee of his free leg is drawn back, and driven into the juncture of Aiden's legs. "Sorry?" Aiden questions... THWOK!!! Pain. unspeakable pain. That feeling when your stomach rises to your throat. Doesn't matter who you are...a knee anywhere CLOSE to the pelvis will make even the strongest man drop. Or in this case, release his hold, which Aiden does. His limbs go limp, and the curls up underneath Trib's body. thankfully, he has the wherewithal to throw an elbow to Trib's jaw, in the hopes that if it connects, it will stun him enough for Aiden to create some distance to recover... Its a sloppy strike, but hopefully for Aiden, it hits its mark and gives Trib something else to nurse, along with favoring "Little Trib." The noise Trib makes when his knee makes contact sounds like he might throw up on Aiden. His lower body attempts to curl up into his torso, and he chokes a groan as he keeps attempting to push his advantage. He crawl-wriggles his way over the curled up man, pushing his steely forearm at his throat. Aiden's elbow connects with Trib's jaw, but for once the muzzle is working to his advantage, absorbing most of the worst of the shock. It still rattles him, though, and combined with the pain in his groin, is enough to knock him loose for a moment. "I knew it," an annoyed voice says loudly from the seats. "They /are/ fuckin'. Jesus. They /are/ animals, ain't they? Even the ones that look like us." This meets with several hearty agreements from the general vicinity. With his airways unblocked, and the pressure on his body relieved, Aiden rolls to the corner of the cage, writhing and kicking. after a few 'hucks' he is able to cough out, "fuck, fuck, fuck!" Any and all class was gone. The yelling and heckling of the crowd started grating on Aiden's nerves...with the pain in his nether regions, it sent him over the edge. giving up all concentration on his opponent, Aiden staggers to his feet, smashing his fists and feet against the cage, yelling back at the fans. "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK ALL OF YOU!!!" he's throwing a right fit. One that would surely get the attention of his handlers... ZZZZAP!!! Aiden forgets almost completely the pain in his groin, as he falls once more to his knees, gripping beneath his collar with a mixture of pain and rage...a proper response, they must think, to reign in a wild animal... Trib rolls away when Aiden frees himself, coming to his knees and WATCHING as the pansy fuckin' /loses/ it. The big man's eyes actually widen in a flash of shock, and then there's a sad sort of look as he pushes painfully to his feet. He pulls off the rest of his shirt, winding the scrap of material between his hands as he approaches the kneeling man. The crowd, energetically returning Aiden's vitriol (along with a few bottles and cans that clear the top of the cage), senses what Trib is about to do, and their cheers subdue somewhat. Tension hangs in the air as Trib carefully circles the man, coming around behind him. "You stupid fuck," he mutters, and loops his makeshift garrote around the other man's neck, just under his jaw. Then there is no more sympathy; just a slow tightening of the cord that slowly, surely, cuts off Aiden's air flow. It takes a few minutes, but by the time Aiden recovers from his shocking, it's too late. The garrote does its work, and Trib's gaze turns impassive when he feels the other man slump, and he immediately releases the tension, allowing the man's body to slump to the muddy floor. The scrap of cloth is left around Aiden's neck. A gift, perhaps. Or a marking. Trib isn't sticking around to explain it, hobbling out of the cage and allowing the two guards to collect his fighting partner. The crowd gets a middle finger. The shock is totally worth it. | |
