Now! [rp]

[Heartsteal]

An old gym tonight, a fight for decades to come. The entire building had been refitted to be used as the venue for a battle royale, six former champions, one huge stage, the old cameras still operational.


"Look gents!" the emcee began, the same one from the widespread video, in his baby blue suit with pastel pink undershirt, his shades barely hanging onto his nose. "We've got a big spot tonight, a night for the highlight reels!" a member of the crowd deemed it more important to check his cellphone, which caught him a punch across the jaw, "You weren't even tryin' ta listen you little prick!" he shouted into the mic, illiciting a beating from the others.


"Maybe he'll listen next time," he joked, leaving a short pause before he went on, "Now, the whole building is set up for this fight tonight, last man standing gets the pot! This is a no holds barred fight, you'll be stripped of any weapons, but you can use whatever you find."


More silence... "Now let's see some blood!" he shouted, getting the crowd going. The main lobby of the abandoned building would be for the audience, massive TVs set up along the walls, displaying all the camera feeds at once. The games had been announced globally over the web, but there was no way the local police would be able to handle a gathering like this alone, and any outside assistance would take too long to arrive to catch them. It was easy, anyone interested would arrive with time to spare, and hopefully they'd find some new recruits.

 

[Esme]

Boots slapped against the pavement, approaching a building she, nay, he had found online. It was what he had been looking for, and what he really needed to test it out. He'd been simply searching online, a local fighting ring, anything, and he'd hit the jackpot. The same league, the same exact league as what had been shown in the news. It was perfect.


After he'd realized that, he'd jumped at the chance to find a way in, even as just a starting spectator. But, he'd had to fix one thing. He wasn't going to get in as a she, there was no way that would even be thought of, even his brother had told him that much. After going through great lengths to flatten down his chest, and turn the hair into something of a man's style, and set on enough clothes to look ready for a fight, but give away anything, which meant shit kickers, cameo pants, and a baggy t-shirt he'd set off, and that led him to where he was now.


"Your making a big mistake..."A voice cooed inside his head, and as he reached the place where a few others were trickling in, he cracked his knuckles and ducked inside, meshing in with the crowd, and already feeling an electrical buzz spreading through him.

 

[Ozmic]

The rusty screech and bang of a slamming truck door signaled the arrival of another newcomer to the large building. Judging by the varying degree of filth scattered around outside, Samuel knew he was in the right place. He leaned on the beaten up truck for a moment, the glow of his mostly-smoked cigarette being the only thing illuminating his face. Tossing the burning thing away, he checked the pockets of his suit coat for his mask and the note he'd been given.


He was supposed to meet someone here; the lowlife that had given him the information about this new fighting ring. However, looking around, he worried there'd be no way to find him in all the clutter. He ground his teeth, trying to keep from yelling out at the people around him to move before he moved them. Placing a hand in his pocket, he gripped his mask, moving it around in his grip to sooth his anger. He could almost feel the mask inviting him to put it on, to just start beating people up outside and forgetting all about this organized bullshit. "No..." he whispered aloud to himself, heading for the door and pushing his way in.


As he ducked his head under the short-framed entrance, he was greeted by a burst of noise and an even larger crowd than the gathering outside. Gripping his mask again, he pushed through it, looking around for his contact and finding nobody that even looked LIKE him. "God damn it..." he mumbled, looking around for where he was supposed to go as a new fighter, wondering if his previous experience would get him anywhere here. This place was nothing like the small time fights he was used to. This would be a challenge, not just some easy victory. A sickening smile crept up the man's features, anticipation burning in his fierce blue eyes.

 

[Heartsteal]

"So then!" the emcee shouted again, breaking out of the crowd, "We're lookin' for new fighters! I'm pretty sure you musta known that since we sent out them tapes."


He was leading up to something, and everyone knew that he was recruiting before he even came up to it.


"Newbies, line your dumb asses up over there at the desk, 'ssumin' you know how to write!" it was supposed to be a joke, but no one laughed.


Startlingly, only a handful lined up, though whether it was just because they were mostly illiterate, or if that few were actually interested.

 

[Esme]

As the announcer rumbled out his call, Peyton almost started grinning like an idiot. Keeping himself together, he nudged past a few people, brushed pass a few others until he found himself in the line to sign in his name. The voice in his head was howling, calling him every name under the sun and pleading with him to reconsider. Tightening his messed up hand into a fist, the darker edge to his smirk seemed to grow a little. This would be fun.

 

[Ozmic]

At the words of the announcer, Samuel nodded and headed directly for the sign-up desk without any more delay. The thoughts of who he was supposed to be meeting far in his mind, he waiting until it was his turn to sign up, grabbing the flimsy piece of paper and one of the pens that were strewn across the desk.


He began scribbling in answers, excitement even showing in his hands as they flew across the page, wanting to get this over with. His writing stopped, however, when there was mention of a alias that would be used. Why hadn't he thought of that?! Surely, he couldn't use his real name in the fights. Panic began to set in and he gripped the mask in his pocket with a free hand, kneading it. He ached to put it on, but didn't want to draw the attention it could bring.


That was it. The mask. The smile. The idea snapped into his head, settling his panic and bring the sickening grin back over his features. Scribbling down the name 'Smiley', he finished up the rest and headed back to the desk, handing it over. One of the men at the table began to say something about the choice of name, but stopped as Samuel's eyes met his and his grin widened. It was a grin of sickening confidence and look of pride in his eyes that stayed with him for quite awhile after.

 

[xxJameson]

It was dark and cold as Dante walked the streets, looking for the Gym that will hold tonight's fight. Decked out in all black, he'd be hard to see roaming the streets. He kept his hood up and his long hair over his eyes so no one can see his face. Sure he wanted to be famous, but he didn't want to go to jail for it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded peice of paper. It was directions to the gym that his contact gave him. He said the directions to his self and continued to walk along.


A few minutes later he finally comes up to the gym. He examines the people going into the gym, noticing how much bigger they are compared to him. "This is gonna be a lot harder than I originally thought..." He said silently to his self. He shrugs his shoulders and proceeds into the gym, just in time to hear the announcer. He smiles and moves to the line and two main people came to his attention. A guy who was actually shorter than he was that was a few people in front of him, and an almost too ridiculously tall man at the front of the line. He must have been a whole foot taller than him. He shakes his head a bit before realizing it was his turn.


He grabs the sheet of paper and a pen provided by the man behind the counter. He begins to write some of his information down as the man behind the counter comments, "Ain't ya a tad bit short to be competeing in a big boy league such as this?"


Dante laughs a bit to his self and looks up at him with one of his Crimson red eyes peering through his hair. "Do you wanna be the first one to try me?" He says to the man behind the counter.


"Haha! Cute kid, nah I got a job to do here. Maybe some other time." He says laughing. Dante ignores what else the man a has to say and continues to fill out the form. He stops when he sees the 'Alias' box to fill in. He stops for a minute, thinks to his self, and finally puts in "Shade". He shrugs to his self thinking thats good enough.

 

[Faith Eliza Cord]

Faith Lehane generally has little use for computers; when she's bored or tired enough to spend her day hanging out at the library, one of the few locations for street kids like her that is safe, dry when it rains, quiet enough for her to be able to find a place to curl up for a nap if she's careful to conceal herself, she generally doesn't bother messing around on one of the machines that she had very limited knowledge of how to operate in the first place. Still, the day before she had been bored enough to spend an hour or so screwing around on it,just to see what she could find, and if she could manage to find job postings through google that would pay her under the table in the area- she'd heard before that such a thing was possible online, though she wasn't sure exactly how or where to look. Somehow though her attempts had lead her to the postings about this...the underground fight club. And though she was seventeen and not exactly large, and more pointedly, female, all facts that would lead most girls to have no interest or confidence in her ability, Faith Lehane was not most girls, and she had actually felt herself give a grim smile as she read on.


This was what she'd been looking for, without knowing that she was looking for anything at all.


She knew perfectly well that most of the men there would be bigger and more muscled, that they would take one look at her and sneer, try to lay their hands on her in any number of ways...just wait and let them see what she would do to them then. She might be young, she might look small, she might be a girl, but one thing Faith wasn't was weak...and she wasn't one to play by the rules, if rules even existed. And something told her that a place like this wouldn't have many.


She didn't think any further about it, didnt' question the validity of her decision. All she knew was that as she read the article her heart began to pound, her pulse racing, and she felt such adrenalized eagerness that she could hardly hold still. And that was enough.


Standing in line now at the sign up counter, Faith is itching to stand face to face with her first adversary, to look them in the eye and glower just before taking them down, with as much pain as possible...her lips twist into a satisfied smile at the thought, and she lifts her chin, ignoring any looks or comments from those around her. They'd see. They'd see, and anyone who even looked at her cross-eyed would be sorry.

 

[Heartsteal]

Several minutes passed after the table registry; the tournament had commenced, and was now over. It was on to the real reason for the event; the fresh blood.


The tourney winner personally brought all twenty noobies to their respective rings to await their announcers, and eventually, their first fans. Throughout the old gym, fights were being matched up, to cut out the weakest half of the crowd, and only keep the strongest, who would eventually be weeded out in the real deal.


(feel free to make your own pairings, npcs, or even other players; it's up to you guys. Remember though, if you match with a player, it will be a big story changer for the loser, who will need to find another way to earn their ticket into the community.)


Back in the lobby, the emcee was beginning his introductions, one screen to each match, though the crowd could gather to a fight if they wanted to watch it in person. Needless to say, the girl, and the big masked man were the most popular choices for the fight-goers.


"Now listen noobies!" he began over the intercomms, "You see the one in front of you!? Break 'em, no rules for your prelims, just try not to die."


Again he tried a poor attempt at a joke, and no one laughed; it didn't really matter, he was done for the night, and enacting on that; he strolled out into the parking lot to start up his chev.

 

[Faith Eliza Cord]

Faith is aware of the shouts aimed towards her specifically as she goes to stand in her ring; she had expected the jeering and catcalls, and she lifts her chin, her jaw tightening, fists clinching at her sides as she attempts not to block it out, but to hear every word...to feed on it. But what is surprising to her is that equal to the sneers and sexual remarks are the people who seem to be cheering for her...actually rooting for her.


She looks to be among the youngest there, at seventeen, and among the smaller ones too, and definitely she is only the female, unless one of the others has a compensation issue going on that she hasn't noticed. And still...still some of them would choose her to win, if they had their way.


Maybe it didn't always hurt to be a reasonably attractive girl.


As she is paired up, Faith sizes up her opponent, narrowing her eyes once more as she focuses on him, attempting to predict by his body and appearance how he might fight. He was taller than her, but wiry, likely not outweighing her by much, and she smirked to herself, confident that she already had the fight in the bag. She had the element of surprise going for her too- no doubt this guy thought that it would be easy to put a girl down, that he'd lucked out with the pairing....well, it would be wicked sweet when she disproved that little notion of his.


This was going to be fun.

 

[Ozmic]

After watching a bit of the tournament, Samuel snuck away from the crowd, going into an area that was blanketed by shadows and taking his mask from his pocket. He looked over it for a moment in silent appreciation, then tugged it over his head and tied it in the back. Tucking the remaining cloth into the neck of his brown suit jacket, he moved back into the crowd, looking almost completely different just from the simple change. Everything about how he carried himself was more confident, more fluid. It was as if he finally felt comfortable in his own skin.


As the last bit of the tournament finished, 'Smiley' took a spot against the wall until he was lead into a ring with another fighter; some weird looking punk rocker with a bunch of facial piercings and liberty spikes. Before their fight could even begin, the punk started taking verbal shots at the much taller man, taunting him about his mask, height, anything to try and bother him. Snickering under the mask, he just stood perfectly still, awaiting the announcement that would begin their brawl.


After a few moments that seemed like hours to the tall man, an announcer came over, looked at the both of them, and signaled the fight underway, screaming something to the crowd to rile them up. Smiley didn't even hear it, just as he didn't hear whatever insults the pierced man was throwing his way. With little warning, the punk ran up to him, dishing out three quick punches that staggered the tall man for just a second, snapping him back to reality.


"What's the problem, ya' big goofy f@%k? Ain't you gonna' fight baaAAAAAA!" the punk began, words twisting into a scream as the masked man's fingers closed around two of his lip piercings, pulling him just slightly up by them. "No, no, no, no!" the spikey haired fighter protested, a look of panic and fear in his eyes as they pleaded with the steely blue eyes behind the mask. "Why would these be a good idea to wear into a fight?" rasped a voice from behind the mask, nothing like the voice of Samuel. With one quick upward motion, the lip piercings tore through the other's flesh, drawing a scream from the punk and an uproar of shouts and cheers from the crowd as blood began to fall onto the ground.


Mumbling and sobbing, the punk began crawling his way away from the other, clawing at the ground as he pulled himself along. When two hands grabbed his leather jacket and lifted him up again, he tried to scream as he was hit by a quick punch to the throat, turning his screaming into labored gurgles. Not long after, the punk-rocker slid to the floor, going unconscious. Smiley simply left him there, raising his arms to his side as he faced the crowd, challenging other new fighters. He lowered arms after a moment as the announcer began to speak, stopping as Smiley turned and stomped his opponent's face once more into the ground. The crowd was shocked to silence, then roared their approval, nearly silencing the announcer's words of congratulations to the winner.

 

[Faith Eliza Cord]

As Faith climbs the ropes of her ring, her body is already tingling with adrenalized anticipation, her skin itching from her scalp downward. She is dressed in loose drawstring pants, a tank top, and a sports bra, and she has pulled back her hair into a tight bun, knowing that having it in her face if loose or giving them something easy to grab hold of if it was in a ponytail would be to her detriment. She assesses her opponent's clothing quickly, looking to see if it carries anything she can use to her advantage. She sees that he is wearing a belt with a large metal buckle and mentally files this away as a possibility.


Heart pounding, her expression grim, lips pursed into a thin line that is almost drawling back into a snarl, she faces her opponent, who the announcer declares as "Rick "The Weasel""; Faith herself has given her fighting name as The Jinx, figuring that given her life story, that was about as accurate as it got. The Weasel stared back at her, and as his eyes dropped from her face to her breasts, his lips twisting into a smirk, Faith felt her blood boil. Yeah, she'd take him down if it took breaking half her bones to do it.


As the shout rang out for their match to begin, Faith blocked out all the other fights going on around her, all the shouting spectators, everything but the Weasel in front of her. He moved in fast, wasting no time in coming forward and aiming a jab to her face that she blocked rapidly, twisting away and then coming in to land a kick in his side. He took the hit with a grunt and came back readily, socking her to the side of the head hard enough that she temporarily reeled, stunned, but it was when he came back and nailed her in her left breast that it happened.


Faith was hardly an amateur to fights, with both males and females; hell, she had spent more than half her life fending off her drunken mother's blows and her perverted father's advances, and in her public city school, and especially once she was on her own, on the streets, it wasn't any better. People would start shit to try to get what you had or to try to take what her body could give, and sometimes only violence would get across her no loud and clear. It had got her suspended and eventually expelled, and the times she had lost, fighting back had only gotten her hurt worse...but all this struggle had left its mark, and one thing Faith couldn't tolerate was for ANYONE to try to hurt her. And touching her THERE, without an express invitation or handing a twenty dollar bill after- it was enough for her to go into a blackout.


Her first blackout had occurred when she was around eleven; she had just started training herself, trying to build up her strength, and when Joey Parker tried to feel her up in the hall when she wasn't even looking, she'd seen black and red flashing before her eyes...then nothing. She was told later she'd broken his jaw, and since he was several inches taller and considerably heavier, that was no mean feet for an eleven-year-old girl. Now sometimes all it took was for her to be touched in a way she couldn't deal with, and she would lose control of her actions, provoked into a violent rage- and remember nothing of it after.


This was one of those times.


Faith's hazel eyes darkened until they appeared almost black, and her mind became purely honed and focused until there was nothing within its thoughts but pure feeling and instinct. As the Weasel came towards her again, she shot forward and caught him with an upper cut to the solar plexus, then immediately followed it with a knee to his groin, simultaneously hooking his ankle with her foot and sweeping him to the ground. Standing over him now, she didn't hear his expressions of pain, saw nothing of his face, only a blurred body before her- a body she needed to punish.


She drove her elbow into his nose, hardly aware of the blood gushing forth to splash her as she elbowed him again and again, then removed his belt swiftly, using the buckle to repeatedly whip him in the face and groin. All the while she is screaming without hearing or understanding what she is saying, swearing at full volume. When she kicks him in his much abused ribs and groin a final time, then stands at last, she is almost lightheaded as she begins to fade back into the present moment, the sounds of the crowd crackling in her ears as she realizes they are cheering- for her. As she looks over at the nearly unconscious Weasel, she smiles.


(hm just thought that if Smiley finds out she's a prostitute, could be bad lol)

 

[Esme]

As he was pulled to a set up ring, Peyton drew in timed precise breaths. The voice in her head going stark raving mad, a grit of anger buzzing in his skull telling him how this was stupid, he needed to leave, he couldn't do this. Leaning against the ropes, his opponent staring him down while managing to look like a red neck reject, he grinned. The man clearly looked like he just came off the streets, and didn't have a clue what he was doing. Work boots, jeans, flannel, the very likely indent of a chew wad in his mouth, kid was easy.


When an announcer came over, with a select crowd, Peyton pulled himself up over the ropes, facing the red neck man. The announcer spoke to each of them for a moment, asking a simple question, before turning to the watchers.


"You little shits listen up good, I give you Tim Buck Billy over here, " He gestured towards the red neck who was starting to shuffle his feet, throwing punches in the air in Peyton's general direction, "And in this direction, Payne. Now you two, I want the direst fight you can give, nut shots, black eyes, concussions, just make it entertaining...."


As the announcer stepped away, signalling for them to begin. Taking a simple step forward, sliding his right foot back, hands going up into what was horribly named the -W position, Peyton simple waited, moving only to keep Tim Buck aligned straight forward to him. As the man duck and weaved and bobbed his way over, he grew annoyed. Pulling out of his stance, he stared at the much larger man, before shaking his head.


"What's the matter, you too scared to fight, sissy boy. I'm too intimidating to ya or somethin'." Spitting at him, Tim Buck came within reaching distance and tried throwing a left hook.


Grab the wrist, pull forward, push back with left foot.The voice in his head attempted coaching. Doing as it said, Peyton managed to grab the man's beefy hand, wrapping his hand around it and latching onto the wrist. Tim Buck managed to pull the same to his a few seconds to late, unfortunately, that wouldn't save his ass.


The second he'd had a firm grip on the man, he'd pulled forward, bringing out his left foot to meet the man's gut, and pushed out with that leg as hard as possible while keeping him angled forward by his arm. The noise that came out of him in a strain was good, very good. Twisting again, dropping the left down, and yanking his arm one more time and moving to the right as the man went past, sliding his hand out of the other's grasp in in the process, he turned putting his hands back up in position and waited.


As the man righted himself, he growled out something about Peyton's mother. Not that he'd cared much, it had been true. As the man came again, aiming for another punch, Peyton simply knocked them off target, before taking one in the shoulder. The man laughed, and tried swinging harder, causing the smaller of the two to side step it, letting Tim Buck lurching forward once more.


As the man went where he had been, Peyton turned, straightening his leg out quickly and giving him a kick directly in the ass. As the man landed on the floor face first, his face set into a hardened look. The crowd around them didn't seem to know what to think, having had all hopes pinned on the louder of the two, but seeing that the tiny little pip squeak clearly had the skills, it seemed to put them into an odd state.


As he let the man stumble back up, he aimed another kick, knocking him over again, and repeat. Only this time, over kicking, as the man turned back to face him, he gave him a right upper cut, feeling the lovely bone under the flesh shift slightly before the Tim Buck stumbled back stunned.


"You little chicken shit...." The red neck spat, spitting out a bloody tooth. "I'll wring your goddamn neck..." As the man charged, Peyton nodded his head, before using the man's momentum against him. Grasping hold of the man's charging shoulders, getting pushed back a little as a few punches landed on his stomach, knocking the breath out of him for a moment, he drew in one sharp breath. Steadying himself on his feet as best as could with the approaching rope coming quick, he brought one knee straight up into the man's pride.


As the guy registered the pain, Peyton shook his head and shoved him off. He was rather annoyed that he got a punk old man who probably carried around three shotguns over someone he'd actually get to use his skill with. Running a hand over his stomach, the announcer, interjected once again, pretty clear that the hit to the man's nuts had a lot of muscle and leg strength running behind it, and given the noise the guy was making, wasn't going to let him get up any time soon.


Unfortuantly, before the announcer could say anything, the big lug pulled himself up. Lurching at Peyton in a blind furry, he would suddenly find himself flat on his back and stars in his eyes, Peyton hanging with the high kick still in the air were it had connected with the man's face.


Pulling out of it, he moved back, letting the announcer take the stage, declaring him a victor. A few of the crowd let out a hiss, and for a moment, that was all there was, until someone had started cheering, followed by a couple more until it seemed he'd gotten a good standing with them, outside of the handful fuming that they're fellow red neck worker had been beaten out by a doll sized man.

 

[Faith Eliza Cord]

As some of the other fights come to an end around her, Faith looks around herself, attempting to see as she backs off to the corner of the ring, not sure yet if she's supposed to fight another one right away, who else so far has won. She sees that the small guy to her right, the one who looks about her height, has just won out against a guy who looked like he belonged on Hee Haw more appropriately than in a fight club. Another guy she caught sight of was the one over a foot taller and 100 pounds heavier than her...the creep with the mask. Figures...


She almost hopes she can go against him. Imagine the crowd's approval, imagine his shock and humiliation if he got beat by a girl...by Faith. Thinking of this, Faith smiles grimly, dimples appearing in her cheeks.

 

[xxJameson]

Dante was hanging back, watching some of the fights as they unfolded. Some of the fighters impressed him, others just flat-out made him laugh. One of those that made him laugh was the next one he had to fight. He looked big and black, Somalian maybe. The main thing that made him laugh was his voice, it was about two pitches higher than what it was supposed to be. Dante laughs and thinks to his self 'This is the guy I have to fight..?'


Dante makes his way to the ring, with the laughter and mocking of the ruffians who surrounded the ring. He slid between the ropes, and looked up to the Big black guy that was in the other corner, mocking him on his size. "You telling me I have to fight this small fry? C'mon, give me a challenge!" He went on and on nnot even realizing the announcer was getting ready to start the match. "Alright in this corner," He was motioning towards Dante's corner, "We have the dark, the mysterious, SHADE!" Dante was getting mixed boo's and cheers as the announcer calls his alias. "And in this corner, we have the rough, the tough, the GORILLA!" The 'Gorilla' lets out a huge roar and there are many cheers coming from the crownd and some.... other comments from the crowd. The announcer motions for the fight to to start. 'This is gonna be fun!' Dante said to his self.


As soon as the fight starts, the Gorilla charges him with a spear. Dante, acting quickly, rolls to the right and barely dodges the spear as the Gorilla slams into the turnbuckle. He gets up and shrugs it off as he cracks his knuckles. Dante makes his way to the center of the ring knowing that he has to have plenty of room for his self to attack and defend. The Gorilla wastes no more time and charges Datne with a huge uppercut. Dante, rather than jumping to the side, lunges forward with the uppecut barely missing him, and punches the Gorilla in the throat with his left hand followed by a punch to the stomach with his right hand. The Gorilla staggers a bit, but it seems like it hardly phased him. Dante can already tell that this was gonna be a long fight.


"Hahaha! So the small fry can fight after all! NOW IS THE TIME TO GET SERIOUS!" The Gorilla shouts as he throws his arms up for the audience's cheering approval. The crowd cheers loudly as the Gorilla charges yet again with staggered punches ranging to the face. Dante manages to dodge them, but not the uppercut which comes straight at Dante's stomach. Dante coughs and spits all the air out of him, and is sent flying across the ring and almost slides out of the ring. Dante struggles to get up, and as he gets up the Gorilla laughs and says, "Aww, what's the matter small fry? Can't handle THE GORILLA!?" He shouts again attempting to get the crowd excited. When Dante gets up, he spit out some blood and laughs very loud and evil-like.


"YOU FOOL! YOU THINK IT"S OVER, WHEN IT HAS ONLY JUST BEGUN! HAHAHA!!" Dante screams aloud, charging the Gorilla with unparalleled speed. The Gorilla throws a punch, attempting to stop Dante, but Dante dodges it, and kicks the Gorilla in the throat and sends him flying out of the ring and almost onto someone. That immediently knocks the Gorilla out.


The announcer jumps back into the ring and says, "And our winner is, the SHADE!" Dante raises his arms up as the crowd cheers and boo's all at the same time. Dante smiles to his self and thinks to his self, 'My road to be coming a star has just took a shortcut.'


((Sorry it took so long, but here you go. And also, sorry if it sucks ^^'))

 

[Heartsteal]

Some of the newcomers showed potential, but most of them were overconfident; as always the announcer supposed. The first night was through, law enforcement could be there at any moment.


"Alright everybody, we've got our winners, now collect on your bets and scram!" he shouted into the mic, jerking a thumb over his shoulder almost menacingly.


"Winners, meet me out back in ten, we're busing out." Of course he didn't explain his last comment, or give the fighters a chance to ask. His frustration was blatantly obvious.


Reserving his thoughts until outside, the announcer mutters to himself in a voice from all his shouting, "Looks like no one's here to represent yet..."


Quieting his thoughts with a cigarette, he slumped down onto an old trashcan, and lit up a smoke.

 

[Faith Eliza Cord]

Faith is still smirking to herself as she goes to collect her winnings; she ignores the voices she hears all around her, blocking out those that sound as if they are specifically aimed towards her, but a stray and deliberate hand on her ass is beyond her ability to ignore. Whirling around, her hair almost hitting the grinning young man in the face, she punches him in the throat, then in the solar plexus, giving him no time to come back at her before she weaves into the crowd, heading out towards the back with her head up, earnings stuffed in her pocket.


Bused out...bused out to where? Were they traveling somewhere else for the next round? But he'd said that the next round wasn't tonight...

 

[Esme]

Shaking his head, Peyton looked at the announcer as he spoke. Stepping out of the ring, nodding at his opponent as he lugged off supported by his friends, he rubbed his hand out of habit. Busing out? Leave. Now. You got your thrill, now leave. Penny, this isn't funny anymore, it's not good.


A look like stone set on his face, as he rolled his shoulders back. Glancing around for a moment, he noticed someone pulling a pack of smokes out of their pocket. Moving towards him, he tapped their shoulder, before pointing to the pack, and quirking an eyebrow in question.


"Sure, buddy...two dollars...." The grub replied. After he'd fished out the money from his pocket, he accepted the thing, jacking the dudes lighter without him realizing it. Of course, the man looked pretty messed up and probably wouldn't have noticed a fire breathing blue elephant charging at him so it was nothing.


Slowly, he made his way towards the back, letting the cigarette hang loosely out of his mouth, the smoke curling up and around his head. Letting a hand drop down to under his shirt, he rubbed a spot that would probably have bruises tomorrow and scowled. Exhaling a cloud of death, he silently argued with the voice in his head about three things at once, a woman's place, fighting, and the apparent new habit of smoking....

 

[Ozmic]

At the announcer's words echoed across the whole arena, Samuel/Smiley grinned underneath the mask and stepped out from the ring, leaving the bleeding punk. As he headed to collect his bets, he pushed through the crowd, ignoring most of the pats on his back and congratulations. He hadn't expected to be leaving the arena on a bus, but it didn't matter. It would just take him to the next fight and that was all he was after.


Snatching the envelope from the man that was trying to yell something to him over the crowd, he turned and headed toward the back, toward the bus, only tugging up his mask enough to stick a cigarette between his lips and light it. Grinning around it, he pushed out of the crowd and through the back door, leaning against the wall to the right and watching as the other 'winners' began to trickle out.


'They got nothing on me,' whispered a voice in his head, causing the smile to widen, teeth looking as if they almost threatened to bite the end off of his cigarette. Exhaling smoke from his nose, he continued to watch the other winners, studying them with his icy stare.


After a moment or so, he turned to the announcer, who was perched against a trash bin. "Where're we headed off to?" he asked simply, voice a mix between the snarl of Smiley and the deep tone of his normal voice.