Cıтч øf Bяøκeи Søυłš {ᶳᵉᵐᶤ⁻ᵃᵈᵛᵃᶰᶜᵉᵈ ʳᵒˡᵉᵖˡᵃʸ} discussion

One of the main locations that street fighting occurs, The Pit is more or less the old parking lot of a disreputable skyscraper. It is, as its name suggests, more-or-less a hole in the ground where street fights occur. There are no guardrails and anyone that falls in is fair game.

Roleplay!

Nikolai sat on a bench, downing glass of water after glass of water. He had a split lip that kept dribbling blood down his chin, and his cheekbone sported a bruise. He was up again in another minute, and right about now there was a bell ringing as another pair duked it out in the ring drawn in chalk on old stones. He drained another glass of water, standing up and brushing his khaki shorts down, wiping away the water, blood, and sweat with his towel. Any second now, and he'd be trying to knock out the other guy before he was beaten down.

Val was visiting the Pits. It was not as if she'd never been here before. Admittedly, she had, usually to watch. A lot of the people her mother had consorted with had come here to fight, and Val found it immensely satisfying to watch the fuckers all get beat up by a younger, more fit generation. Take the guys in the ring presently for example: the younger one was winning against the elder one she recognized all too well, technically the father of her child and her half-sister (though he was only a rapist piece of shit she would gladly watch die). She would make sure to thank the guy later. She set her mouth in a grim line and watched.

He waited for the match to end. In a shocking turn of events, the older man landed a crack punch and downed his opponent. He was against Nikolai in the final round for the pot. He was nervous, because he'd never gotten THIS far before. Only once or twice to the semifinals. He was sure he could take the guy, but he was great... this man let his opponent fall into a sense of security, took a beating, then took advantage of an inexperienced kid's problem. He gulped and approached the ring. He had to keep on the defense...

Val marched up to the young man about to fight the reviling excuse for a man in the finals with her arms folded across her chest. "Look, you lose, mate, and whenever I die, I'll beat the motherfucking shit out of you in whatever hell you land in for losing whenever I die. Capiche?" She didn't know the man, but she figured it couldn't be a bad thing to let him know she was rooting for him and all that. Granted, she was more rooting against his opponent, but the point still stood. She raised a dark eyebrow threateningly.

He laughed lightly. "Right, miss, I'll kick his @$$ so you won't kick mine, I capiche," he said, sounding more confident then he felt. "I wouldn't lose with the prize on the line. Besides, he's been whupped more than I," he shrugged, his hands clammy. He met her threatening gaze with a smirk, sort of annoyed. What was with this chick, that she was threatening him and not the guy she wanted to lose? "You got it, Highness." He offered a teasing salute.

Val liked tormenting people. Because it was fun, obviously, and definitely not any sort of defense mechanism. A hint of a smile crossed Val's lips as the man (a boy, really) insisted that he would win against the fucker. Val, of course, knew exactly how dirtily the man could fight when backed in a corner, and flashes of unwelcomed memory floated in her mind, threatening to make her collapse in a sobbing mess. She hated that man, she loathed him, and she feared him. But fucking hell, despite how she had been conceived, Val loved her daughter and her half-sister. It still hurt that the pair were being raised as twins, her sisters.

He smiled, then entered the ring, blinking a bit, despite his split lip. Oh yeah, he needed to win now, especially with his cursing lady fair wailing down his throat about winning. He didn't want her haunting him in Hell, after all. It wasn't that he thought she was cute and hanging out in gratitude wouldn't be fun at all. Right? He faced down the old man, keeping up a firm defense, ready to kick some butt.

Val watched the show with interest entirely because she wanted to see the fucker who raped her get beaten up. He'd always been one of the worst that her mother had had over. Call her petty for coming here to watch him get beat up. Val would deny that her experiences had any influence on her sexuality, but she could not know for sure. She'd been raped less by women, and her mother so hated people who liked their own gender. The fact Val considered herself about as gay as it got may have had something to do with that, but it was also her, plain and simple. She only found herself attracted to women. Still as the fucker and the boy fought and the boy was winning, she was grinning. It was incredibly satisfying.

He had no idea what she was thinking, but he thought of her. Maybe there'd be a nice dinner out with her, if he won the pot! He focused at getting this man's eyes, and fairly quickly... a punch here and there, and the old man, already beaten up, was completely defeated. He's received a few heavy blows, and was slightly dazed as someone raised his hand. Get the money and go, that was what he needed to do, or they might mug the exhausted kid and take the pot for themselves. Just the day he didn't bring a second to cover his back.

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((Had to do hw yesterday and was trying to finish up charries. Will reply to this when I reply to all my other rps in the group))

Val tapped her fingers against the ground as she watched, the gesture half from nerves and half anticipation. She smiled, her teeth worrying her lower lip as she did so. Was it bad that she wanted the man to go down as much as she did? She knew he wasn't dead as the kid won. The kid didn't look like a man who'd killed just killed someone, and if he had, then fucking hell was that kid a psychopath. She wasn't ready to rule the second idea as an option, but she figured the first one was a hell of a lot more likely. She grinned that the fucker had lost, and she fingered the place on her belt where she had a decent supply of pepper spray (she figured it was better to have more discreet weapons, hence the knife she also carried), for a moment toying with the idea of marking up that fucker herself in addition to what that boy had done. She decided against it.

Nikolai snatched the pot, piling it into his bag with his clothes, before darting at Val. "Come on, Princess, we have to get out of here," he grabbed her arm. "I know what happens to people who win, they get targeted," he muttered, "I need you to look tough, like you're a trained fighter, and just hurry." Well, at least he had beaten the other guy for her, so she must feel some sort of debt to him, somehow?

"Call me princess again, and I won't need to pretend, thanks," Val snapped at him, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. She was about as goth as it got, and she was great at telling people where they could shove it. She'd gotten moved from waitress to busboy because she couldn't stop tormenting her customers. She wrenched her arm free of his grasp before shooting him an angry glare. "So you fucking touch me again, and I'll make sure you damn well regret it. You got that?"

He wanted to throw something in her smug, angsty punk face. "Whatever," he snarled, not going to put up with her, or plead and belittle himself for asking for her help. She treated him as if he'd just walked off a bus and tried to cop a feel or something. His eyebrows dove and he turned his back on her, starting off at a jog for the edge of the Pit. Dang, dang, dang... He was so going to be tackled by three or four leeches, or something... whenever there was a big pot of cash, there'd be a ring of beaters around the edge to try to wrest it from a weary victor.

For once, it hadn't been Val trying to piss someone off. She was understandably a bit pissy when it came to being touched. Her mother and all her drug dealers had seen to that one. Men, boys even, were the worst. Val knew it was stupid of him to run off. Really, running only ever attracted attention, so after cracking her neck, she jogged after him. "You know, if you're worried about those fuckers stealing from you, idiot, you're just putting a target on your back by not blending the fuck in. Like seriously? You got a fucking brain in there?" She caught up enough to tap him on the head.

He swallowed hard, slamming to a stop. "Look, what do you want?" he stared at her, not appreciating being bossed around. First with winning, now with being told he was a brainless idiot by this girl... "What's your problem?" He inwardly agreed, though, slightly. "They watch, they know who I am, if I run, I might get past them before they reach my exit."

"Disappear into the fucking crowd. Let them get distracted and slip the fuck out. I've made same fucking mistake before, you know?" Actually, she hadn't really. Unless one counted running from a shitty home and then getting dragged the fuck back and beaten up, too, and raped as the same thing. But flight was a mistake she had seen plenty of others make. She shrugged and glanced around. She glanced at the men who were clearly watching them. "I know a lot of those fuckers' weaknesses, so you know." A lot of them had supplied her mother with drugs and money, so Val knew them much better than she would have liked.

"Okay," he hesitated, "Well... I can pay you, if you get me out of here alive, okay?" He swallowed, glancing at the crowd, then at his escape, now successfully blocked. "Okay, hide. Got it... but those back there know my face as well, and I don't trust them either..." He grabbed his pack and pulled out his shirt, a hoodie, to cover his head.

Val snatched his hoodie and pulled off her own more feminine leather jacket, her beanie, and her leather skirt. Her t-shirt she left on. She also had some skin-tight shorts on beneath her skirt anyway. "Look, you know how to walk like a girl, mate? She put on his hoodie over her shirt and slung his shirt over her arm and took his pack. "Look, I can fucking distract them if you go out through that shithole of a skyscraper. I've got weapons, so I can get myself the fuck out. You got that?" Besides, she knew them. It might be fun to pepperspray them and such.

He kept his hands gripped around his pack. "I'm not gullible, I'm keeping my pack. Or, at least the money inside. I have to make a living, you know," he glanced at her, then at the people, "And heck, if I can't stand against them, how do you expect to? I mean, there's lots of these really tough guys going to attack. Diverting the attention to you isn't great, unless you're working for yourself." He stared. "I don't trust anyone."

"Good for you, mate. Not something you really need to fucking broadcast in these parts though. I mean, who's stupid enough to trust these shitheads anyway? I have my ways -- 'sides, even if those fuck-minded boner-happy assholes do mess with me, it's not like they can fucking do anything new. But all I have to do is get the fuck past them, so I should be fine. But yeah, that offer to pay me. Only doing this with a nice deposit and a promise of more after. Otherwise, fuck no." She raised a not-blonde eyebrow at him and tapped her foot on the asphalt impatiently. A moment later, the other eyebrow joined the first.

He groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Wow, you people really are all jerks," he muttered, digging around. "Here," he passed her a hefty bill. "Just- get out of my hair and leave me alone." He felt sort of foggy visioned, and he was not trusting someone who tried to run with his money, then demanded a hefty portion of it. He'd... Just try his best to sneak out quickly.

"I'm not putting myself near those fuckers for some idiotic stranger without somme assurance that it might be worth it. Trust me on this: they do a whole lot of fucked up shit and don't give a shit about whom they do it to." Something on her face said, Yes, I know this persknally but don’t fucking ask, dammit. She stuck a hand out for the money. "Look, I could just steal it from you, but it doesn't look like I'm doing that skrt of shit to you, does it?"

"Maybe because if you tried to steal it, I'd knock you down," he retorted primly, passing her the bills. "You're also stealing my only clothes," he pointed out, as she'd snatched his hoodie. Was he supposed to wear a girl's jacket? Oh, no way... "Besides, if you get attacked, won't you be in worse of a position than I would have been?" he asked, shouldering the pack again. He glanced up. "We're lingering too long... they're coming down, hurry, we have to get back to the crowd."

Val rolled her eyes at him. "Fucking hell. If you act like a girl and I try to act like you, more of them might follow me, especially if you aren't a fucking idiot and manage to blend into the crowd." She shrugged as she stuffed the money into her bra. "You disappear into the crowd and pretend to be a girl. I go distract them. We both get the fuck out. And if I have to use my damn pepper spray on them, then it's less than they fucking deserve." She scowled at that, trying not to think of all the things they'd done to her in the past. The things she'd like to happen to them would not be appropriate in an R movie.

He frowned, still unwilling to risk his only real shirt. The embarrassment and humiliation of being thought a tranny! he thought, or too poor to have to rely on women's clothing... He frowned lightly, then let his pride eek away. "Fine." He passed her the hoodie, taking her jacket in return. "Only because you're so sure you can get yourself out." Not to be too chauvinistic, but he didn't want to see a girl get creamed because he was too coward to face his own enemies.

"As I said, only thing they could fucking do to me that they haven't done already is murder me, and I've got my own damn weapons." She raised her eyebrow and gestured to her pepper spray. It was amazing what a person could do with pepper spray, really. She shrugged. "Just make sure to fucking sway your damn hips. Tilt them forward a bit. And, uh, stand your damn back straighter, and try to do your best come hither look. I don't walk like a fucking priggish bitch like that, but it's how most of these sluts do it and you want to blend the fuck in, so do as the fucking Romans do, eh?" She smirked and tilted her head to the side. "And in the meantime, I get to walk like a bloody ponce."

"Look, if they're going to..." he flinched, then shook his head. "If we run straight across the pit, they'll have to circle the perimeter, we could still get away without anyone getting hurt, and if you have pepper spray, all the better." His protests were minute now, though, as he pulled on her jacket, wrinkling his nose, like this was just far too uncomfortable. "You use a lot of derogatory terms and language, and I am not a ponce!"

"Run straight across that fucking hole and the ground and they'll expect us to fucking fight each other. And as I said, pepper spray. Wanna fucking risk it, ponce?" She raised an eyebrow at him and stood straighter, shifted her hips back, and stood casually, confidently, like it was all really fucking easy. "I take it you aren't a lil Slums boy, used to all this shit? 'Cause compared to some, my mouth is pretty damn clean -- washed out with a bar of fucking soap and then some even." She made a pouty face. She was an asshole and loved tormenting people around her. She was comfortable in this fact.

He scowled. "Fine," and turned to blend in. Well, she was sweet, he thought sarcastically. "I'm going to have to teach you some more adjectives and adverbs."

((On dying phone, sorry!))

((Okay. No problem.))

Val raised an eyebrow. "So you think I'm fucking dumb because I talk shit, man?" She shook her head and wanted to smack him upside his head for his comment. She then adopted a simpering voice. "Look, I can talk like you normal, decent prig that is so pretentious and sanctimonious and arrogant and whatnot from the brilliant, lovely, spectacular, fantastic Heart of the City where life is good and money is everywhere." She resisted the urge to barf after saying those words. She turned to go her way out, the one that would distract.

She walked up to the entrance of the main alley, the primary way in an out. The way those men were looking at her, she was definitely going to use some of her fucking peppery spray. "Shit," she hissed, sauntering up to them before pulling it out. She wasn't about to freak out. Nope. She grabbed the pepper spray and hid it in her hands. "Hey."

"Hey, slut," one of the men said, "wanna suck my fucking dick, bitch? Your mouth's got to feel really fucking good around it. I fucking missed it."

Val glanced around. Three of them. "Can't say I missed you too, shit-faced dick-for-brains." She pulled out the pepper spray and used it, aiming at the three men's faces quickly, hoping that even if it didn't work she could push through them in her confusion. It worked, and she pushed through. But there was one man waiting in the shadows she had been unable to see. He knocked the pepper spray from her hand.

((Maybe Nikolai rescues her or something?))

"No, I think you act pretty dumb," he pointed out, "You just proved you're not stupid whatsoever." He shrugged, smiling at her grossed out face. He waved slightly, then presented an over-exaggerated stroll of a woman, as he used the pack like a handbag, skipping the other way.

Nikolai, however, didn't continue in his path. He was just kind and grand enough to follow the foul mouthed maiden, only to learn just where she learned it all. Part of him wanted to beat them all up, but he waited on the pepper spray, to make sure she was clear. To make sure she was all right on everything. Then, well, everything went to Hell.

He leaped from hiding, running forwards and aiming a few heavy punches right at the other man's face, hoping to knock him out. "No questions, princess," he grabbed her arm. "Punch me later for saving your life!"

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((I haven't had much time, and my laptop has only started functioning a little while ago))

She growled as he grabbed her arm. He was only touching her through his hoodie, but still, she couldn't help but wrench her arm free as she ran. "I'm fucking capable of running without your help, thanks." She conveniently ignored that her hands were trembling and that she had blanched even paler than she usually was with her make-up. She was panting.

When they were a few alleys over, out of where the men would look, Val turned to him and glowered. "I suppose that's cause for thanks then. Dammit." She wasn't about to explain her interaction with those men if she didn't have to. Though, she thought glumly, he had probably worked out at least a little bit of her past for all of her bravado and attitude now.

((It's okay! It's NEVER nagging or anger at you, it's just in case you forget!))

He didn't even look at her as they ran, when she wrenched free, he just sped, making sure they were going the same way, but still trying to get free. "We should keep moving. Or at least, climb a fire escape and camp up by an empty flat or something. It's what I do most times when I'm running," He reached into the pack and pulled a good quarter of the reward money. "Thanks. I probably wouldn't have gotten clear without you or your pepper spray."

"Well," he was breathing hard now too.

((Kay))

Val saw the time projected on one of the government-issue billboards after quickly agreeing to climb one of the fire escapes. "Fucking Christ on a cracker," she cursed, taking a moment to slap herself on the forehead. "Not fucking again!" She realized her shift at the Light Moon's had started about two minutes prior. Her boss already knew she was useless as a waitress. It was the reason she was now a busboy instead. If her boss thought she were useless at that, too, she'd be out of a job faster than one could say, "job." And her job was basically on the exact opposite side of the Middle City Slums, too.

"What?" he spun, looking incredibly worried. "What's wrong?" He took off her jacket, offering it. "Here..." He seemed a bit awkward, hesitant, now that they'd had this strange clash of danger and... it wasn't friendship, he didn't think, but... they'd allied, at least.

"I'm a fucking idiot. I'm really late for my shift at the damn restaurant and if I get fucking fired --" Well, only so many places wanted a bad-mouthed dropout, and there were only so many jobs in those places they'd give her, too. She could still remember one shit-headed ass who'd had the fucking audacity to tell her she'd have to suck his dick if she wanted a job. She'd punched him in the face for it and definitely gotten no jobs. And unfortunately, her band had yet to start making a lot of money despite its quality of music and performances. She'd always felt the need to help her dad earn money for the family since they'd gotten to live with him. She didn't fucking want to lose her job.

"Well... I don't know if I can help you there," he rubbed his scalp. "I mean... Maybe you could say that some horrible accident happened and it was a matter of life and death? Because hey, it kind of was. Just kiss up and most people will think they have you so under their thumb that they'll keep you there."

Val laughed. As if that would fucking work. She'd tormented customers, and as busboy, she'd already gone into work drunk off her arse twice and late, thrice. It was a miracle she still even had a job to lose. "Yep, that's so fucking likely." She shook her head. "I'm just another damn Slums girl to them. I don't know where you've fucking been, but we Slums kids are so fucking replaceable."

"Maybe... you should make yourself irreplaceable. Either through becoming really useful, or blackmail. Your choice." he shrugged.

"Or get my band to take off so I'm the one to find them so fucking replaceable," she snapped a bit disagreeably. Proving herself worthy. She'd heard those words before, usually from her mother and her mother's clients. Fucking hell to the fucking no, that was not her way. She stood up. "Look, thanks for saving me from those shits back there, but I've got to go."

"Oh... I see, then. Hey, here's a tip. For your absolute help." He tossed her a few more bills. "I wish I could help you some more, but... I've got no clue. I have a beat up bike, might get you there faster. I'm planning on buying a new one, anyway."

"Right, not sure that'll fucking help, but I guess thanks for your thought? I'm not wearing my damn bike-riding clothes, you might have noticed," Val said, ever a bit of an asshole when it came to dealing with non-family members. "I'll just run." She chewed on her lower lip. "Oh, here." She pulled out a rather folded card from her bag. "Feel free to damn well drop buy sometimes during one of my band's concerts. Storm the Darkness."

"I'll spread the word," he accepted the card, "There's a lot of rich snotty rebel kids in the Heart of the City. I'll see if I can get a few sponsors or whatever. No promises." He rolled his eyes slightly. "Good luck!"