1376/Fight Club: The First Night Of Fight Club

From United Heroes MUSH
Jump to navigation Jump to search
Fight Club: The First Night Of Fight Club
Date of Scene: 09 July 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Renee Montoya, Rogue, 1017, Molly Millions, Miss Moreau, Sarah Osborn, Lady Shiva, Dazzler, Little Blackhawk, 1075
Tinyplot: Fight Club


Renee Montoya has posed:
    They had found their way there. Some, from underworld contacts. Others, by underhanded betting agents. Some, by the purposeful hand of those that helped make this place a reality in the seedy, yet forgotten underground belly of Gotham.
    Some had been able to come. They now fill the circular, massive room in the makeshift arena-style seats, each wearing either a domino mask, or some masquerade ball style mask. The underworld of Gotham. Of New York City. Metropolis. Beyond.
    Here are the movers and shakers. The moneymakers. The drug dealers. The opulent master thieves. The slave runners. The worst of the worst of the worst.
    Those that could not make it phsyically watch over the dark web, as the live broadcast readies it's countdown until the event begins.
    In the center of the room, upon the floor is a massive domed metal wired cage which if the claims are true is made out of titanium. Only one way in. Only one way out. Through the door, and that door is guarded by not one, but two men, eight feet tall, and legs and arms as thick as tree trunks and if their features are any indication, with additionally matching dispositions.
    Near the door is a pit, where the fighters in waiting can prepare, as well as watch the competition in the arena as they fight and a sign warning the competitors not to fight before they're in the cage or they'll be expelled.
    And above it all, the skybox. The control center for all of it.
    Welcome, to Fight Club. The atmosphere is one of excited anticipation, filled with a measure of the eagerness before any fight.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue had been coming to fight club's like this for the last 4 or so years. The first one she'd gone to was located in New Mexico, then she sort've dotted her way through them up the west coast into Canada... now several here in the NYC area. She enjoyed watching people punch each other's lights out, the dirtier the fight the better. Rogue had absorbed a lot of different personalities in the past many years, and they'd all mooshed together to create a part of her mind.. that liked this stuff.

So here she is, wearing a brown leather bomber jacket, unzipped with a green tanktop beneath, green gloves on her hands and black snug-fit jeans on her lower body, tucked into black leather combat boots.

Rogue stood with two beers in her gloved hands, near the back, sipping from one and saving the other for 60 seconds or so from now. Green eyes were scanning over the crowd gathered here tonight.

Scandal Savage (1017) has posed:
Tonight, Scandal is just here to observe. Strong though the pull of violence is for her Savage blood, she's doing her best to rein in her instincts and *learn* before she risks pitching in. Thus, she has sought out a position high up, with an overview of audience and security measures as well as the arena itself, and is currently posted with her back to a solid support. For those familiar with the high-end mercenary market, she might currently look familiar: clad in black, with a jacket worn over form-fitting combat gear, and a half-mask concealing the lower part of her face. To others, she probably just looks like a fit young woman trying to hide her identity.

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly Millions's in the pit with the rest of the fighters. Not exactly an imposing figure... or a particularly known one. Lean and pale and clad in black with little but the silver lenses covering her eyes to particularly make her stand out among the rest of the meat.

A white 'wife beater' with a black sports-top and loose black pants paired with black combat boots is about as much camouflage as she's going for. A series of intricate tattoos resembling circuitry imprinted into her arms might seem to shift color slowly over time for those paying attention.

She's found a corner in which to crouch with her back up against the pits edge and seems to be observing her potential opponents as she shreds a piece of paper methodically in her fingers, expression placid to the point of looking bored.

Miss Moreau has posed:
Moreau, for her part, is in the audience. She has somehow managed to get a /table/. A small one, but a table nonetheless. She's alone. Well, mostly. On her shoulder sits a raven. Her face is covered with a masquerade mask. There's a bottle of wine and a glass that she's daintily sipping from.

How odd for a woman like her to be here! That might explain the red book her fingers are running across. She turns a page occasionally.

Perhaps she's here to strike a deal? There's a second seat beside her. Probably. That bird on her shoulder definitely isn't giving her a play by play of the action.

Moreau shudders, in anticipation for the bloodshed to come. She licks her lips. Maybe she'll enter a fight one day.

Sarah Osborn has posed:
Sarah has contacts. There are people who she has helped with various problems, it is how she learned of the Auction, it is how she learned of this place. She knows, she needs experience if she is going to fight someone who has survived as long as Spider-man. She is here as Goblin-Girl, they probably would not let in teenage Sarah, but Goblin-irl has enough of a rep ti get in...all she needed to do was prove her identity by lifting up her motorcycle over her head. Nos she is in the pit, waiting her turn. Her green scaled body suit and goblin mask are under the putple duster and cap. Her weapons are in her bandoleers. She is ready, but is not sure she will be allowed to keep the gear.

Lady Shiva has posed:
Where there is violence, Shiva gravitates. She gains no pleasure for the spectacle. For her, it is all a part of her quest to learn more. Gain more knowledge. She can watch a move once and master it. It isn't often that she learns a new skill at these types of bouts, due to powers being involved. Yet there are times so she has joined the audience.

Her seat is in the back, near a wall, close to an exit. All strategic choices.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    A woman in a gorgeous, and likely insanely expensive evening dress takes position in the skybox. Her haircut, too, must've cost a fortune the way her dark hair lays perfectly over her frame. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Movers and Shakers, Creatures, Mutants, and Metahumans alike. WELCOME. TO. FIGHT CLUB."
    She holds her gloved hands out, welcoming the caucophony of applause, that dies down nearly instantly. They want to see the fights. And, Roulette knows it.
    "The first rule of Fight Club," she says, with a knowing smile on her painted lips, "Is, that if it's your first night here?" She waits for it, "YOU HAVE TO FIGHT. The second rule of Fight Club is that besides no weapons ... there ARE NO RULES. Someone may very well die tonight, I'm afraid. Or, perhaps, lose a limb. Snap a neck. But, we're just here to entertain you. It's up to the combatants, and, perhaps how well they'll listen to their public, you, the crowd, as to how - brutal the fight might become. Alas." She almost seems to sound sad. "We don't have any medical on hand. I do hope our combatants brought their own medical teams."
    There's a pause, and then she gets right to it. "And, our first fight? The Goblin-Girl! Versus! ... Asbestos Man? Really?" Roulette laughs, then, "Let the fight begin."

    A tall man, in a brimming bright blue suit of armor steps into the cage. A suit of armor, literally made from asbestos. His mask looks gruesome, some mix between an alien and a gas mask, with a mowhawk. He pounds his chest of armor, and awaits his competition, Goblin-Girl.

Dazzler has posed:
Blue leather, a golden face-mask emblazoned with her old stage-makeup; either Dazzler isn't worried about being noticed, or perhaps she's a fan? Either way, she's unconcerned. She was involved in an underground fight ring once; drugged and forced, and frankly the taste of it is still foul in her mouth when she thinks on it.

And yet, here she is - found on whispers and rumors and in tawdry celebrity circles. Ali won't make any move to bust this all apart tonight, or maybe even the next night... but she's definitely watching and studying and planning. She notices Rogue almost right away, but doesn't approach her just yet. Mama needs a drink first.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue's eyes scanned over the crowed up until the woman above made her anouncement. The teenager sipped one of her beers and just admired the spectacle of this showcase... this was the largest fight of this nature she'd ever seen.

Rogue stepped back when a large group of young people walked past her all rushing toward their seats, she watched them go by but would soon turn her eyes back to the 'stage' for the upcoming fighting. Rogue has NO idea that Alison is here, this is not where she'd expect anyone she knew that well to be. Not from Xavier's anyway.

Sarah Osborn has posed:
Goblin-Girls shrugs out of her weapons belts and steps into the ring. She says, "I recall you fought the Human Torch once, being fireproof and all is useful against him..." She jumps into the air and kicks Abestos Man in the temple hard enough to bounce him off the titaniom cage. As he bounces back she grabs him and throws him across the stage, hitting him against the opposite wall before she continues, "...but not against ME."

Little Blackhawk has posed:
    Elliot doesn't seem to have any conception how far back she ought to be sitting. She's a tiny thing wearing a hoodie and black exercise pants, fingerless gloves on her hands and a wide-eyed curiosity in her eyes. She perches on the edge of her seat, twitterpated with thoughts of what is likely to come next. She's almost shaking with all the excitement of someone who has no conception of what it is they've actually found.

    Elliot takes note tof everything that happens around her and quietly tucked in a corner, taken seriously by no one, the tiny blonde ostensibly unaugmented human learns.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    "And it's Goblin-Girl on the offense, Asbestos Man," and Roulette pauses, her microphone 'accidentally' half on to give the auidence a laugh as she asks a wasp-waisted brunette beside her, "Is he -really- using that name?" As if in a stage-whisper, before returning to the fight, "Is going to have his job cut out for him tonight. She's a ruthless little spawn of a demon, isn't she?"

    Asbestos Man recovers, slowly. That's a heavy piece of armor he's got on, and he rises just the same, this time grabbing Goblin-Girl, and bringing her into a bear-hug on her next attack, seeming to realize she is the more capable physical fighter. And, maybe this is his strategy. Poison his opponents to death?

Scandal Savage (1017) has posed:
Above her half-mask, Scandal's brows quirk upwards - both at Roulette's announcements and at the swift opening to the first fight. Then she brings her attention back to the audience. There are certainly a number of people here to draw her interest, one way or another... but her gaze settles upon that diminutive blonde doing her best to remain unnoticed. After pausing to admire Asbestos Man's determined effort to stay in the contest, she moves to adopt a new position close by Elliot.

"You probably shouldn't be here, you know," she observes, voice pitched low and tone amiable.

Dazzler has posed:
Drink in hand - some sparkly, girly, supremely alcoholic thing to get her distaste for *this* sort of spectacle quieted before her turn comes up - Dazzler deliberately approaches Rogue, lowly asking, "No Remy tonight? I didn't think someone who's mom used to aim her at people like a weapon would enjoy these sorts of unsanctioned brawls." It's unkind, maybe, but Ali's testing the water here.

Miss Moreau has posed:
Already, Miss Moreau is pleased. She smiles pleasantly, sips her wine, and crosses her legs. As the violence starts and Asbestos recovers, she laughs.

"Oh dear, what is this!? Is this a fight or a hugging contest!?"

"At least get some blood on the floor! Come, come, you can do better than that!" chides Moreau from her table, yelling to the two fighters. Is she drunk? A little. This is already her third bottle. Her heightened senses only make it worse.

At least Moreau is an enthusiastic audience member. Her bird caws.

Sarah Osborn has posed:
Goblin-girl is not only strong, she is pretty much impervious to poison. She is also very tough, the Goblin Formula is no joke. She grabs her opponernt, letting him keep his hold for a moment, she gets a firm brip on his armor and then lifts him bodily into the air, breaking his grip, and throws him up into the air so this time he bounces off the roof. As he comes down she hits him in the center of his breastplate, adding the force of his fall and his own weight to her blow, this is called "striking for effect" and effective it is, because he is hit hard his breastplate cracks, and because he is not anchored down he flies across the cade again twice as hard as before...

Little Blackhawk has posed:
"Probably not," Elliot agrees amiably when Scandal comes up beside her. Pint-sized freshman barbie looks up at the Brazilian woman beside her nd blinks once, studyingwhat is visible of heer featuresa with a thoughtful expression. "But it's too late now."

There's a pause while Elliot reaches up to drag her fingers through her blonde tresses and pull them away from her face. "It doesn't look so bad," she observes then in that thoughtful, mild tone she seems to prefer when the world is ending.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue was watching the fight, it was obviously too loud to hear anything from the stage. She did a double take just before drinking her beer, upon hearing someone speak to her. Her eyes registered who it was and she lowered the drink again and then smirked after hearing what Alison said. "No Remy... he's playin' card games. And... she wasn't my mothe'ah, not then, not eve'ah." Rogue said over the sounds around them, she glanced back to the fight and then looked back to Dazzler. "This seems like the last place you'd be!"

Renee Montoya has posed:
    "Asbestos Man goes for the long, poisonous kill - but Goblin-Girl isn't having any of it. And, with a few hard hits, it looks like our favorite chemically armored combatant is down for the count, and out."
    There is a pause, as Roulette calls to the Goblin Girl, looking down, smiling with white, perfect teeth, "But it's your call, Goblin Girl, when the fight is over."
    Around the stadium, the crowd is laughing at Asbestos Man. They don't seem, yet, to be calling for his head. Or his blood. Rather, amusement. As if they were all now in even better spirits than before.
    Clever people might realize what a show-woman Roulette is, to create this sort of mismatch at the start of things. To get the crowd in the palm of her hand, before seizing them by the guts, and twisting them, and pulling them in.

    The grunts at the door of the cage open the door for Goblin Girl. If she wishes to leave.

Dazzler has posed:
"Reconnaissance," Ali admits to Rogue. "I *hate* these places, what they stand for and what they put people through just to line some gang-lord's pockets." Lowering her voice even further, she settles in to watch next to Rogue. "I intend to help bring this place down. Maybe not tonight, but even UFC has rules and regulations. People get *killed* in these places."

Sarah Osborn has posed:
Sarah strides out...if she is called on again she is sure it will be a more capable opponent. She gathers up her weapons...she might not be able to use them in the pit but you never know what might happen OUT of it.

Molly Millions has posed:
Shadow-boxing, stretching, the fighters are no doubt prowling around waiting for their chance at blood. Molly seems to be going with the theory of showing less is more... or she's just horribly out of her depth. Certainly aside from prowling closer to the cage-side edge of the pit she doesn't seem to be in any hurry to indulge in boasting or showing off for all the little smile that curls her lips.

Lady Shiva has posed:
Shiva watches the fight curiously behind her black mask. She focuses on the pit where the others are warming up. Then she rises, turning and heading out the exit quietly. Her interest is not piqued and there are other matters to attend.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    The grunts carry, rather indifferently, the unconscious Asbestos Man out with one hand, dragging him like a gorilla might a corpse, as Roulette applauds, "Such nobility. A fine display, for our first fight. But, things are just getting warmed up," she assures everyone.
    "Now, things are going to start to get a little serious. For we have none other than Bartoc The Leaper," the name gets some recognition amongst quite a few members of the crowd. "Verus Steppin' Razor."

    A large man steps into the arean, looking serious. He wears a black-and-orange striped mask, along with a purple suit. Orange gloves, and boots. He looks every bit a strong man. And, capable fighter.

Scandal Savage (1017) has posed:
Scandal offers the fallen Asbestos Man a pensively concerned look, lips pursing behind her mask. Wholly his own choice to fight, of course, but also the organisers' choice about whom to pair him off against. "You do realise that there's a real risk of your being set up as comic relief, here - as he just was?" She looks back to Elliot, arching a brow again. "I respect your right to make your own choices. But this place makes its own rules."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue sets one of her beers down on a concrete slb to her left and then glances at the fights as the first one wraps up with a seemingly huge lopsided result for the person she was figuring was going to lose outright... surprise surprise!

"People die everywhere, Ali." Rogue said back to Dazzler then, glancing back at her. "Ah only care about this stuff if the people fightin' are bein' forced t'fight." Her shoulders shrugged then. "If they're up'an'in there all on their 'own accord'?" Rogue shook her head gently. "Then they get what they deserve. Far as I'm concerned."

Miss Moreau has posed:
Ahh, a warmup! Moreau smiles. With the pathetic start with poor Asbestos, a fan flicks out into Moreau's hand. She fans herself, already hot under the collar from so much violence.

"Oh dear, a Razor? Hmmm. Whose throat shall be slashed! Such odds...mmm. Delicious." She mumbles to herself.

"MORE WINE!" She yells to whatever passes for wait staff around here. She's eagerly chugging down the rest of the bottle.

Little Blackhawk has posed:
"That would suck," Elliot muses by way of reply. She flashes Scandal a smile as best she can whilst harldy looking away from the arena. "People deserve a good fight if they're going to come all the way here to watch." Elliot takes a deep breath and holds it for a second. "I'm here looking for someone, though. A few someones, actually. It's just a hunch, but..." Elliot is sure to keep her voice down. Overhearing her in a raucous crowd should be next to impossible. Even for most super senses. Hopefully.

Molly Millions has posed:
Compared to the man in the black-and-orange mask and purple suit... Molly probably looks like she got lost on her way to the crossfit class. No mask, plain clothing. She might be whip thin and composed but compared to Batroc? Featherweight compared to heavyweight.

Though there's clearly martial training in the history of both; la savate from Batroc, Muay Thai from Molly. The first pass probably holds out the expected; though Molly blocks, Batroc dominates. Those with an eye for such things might note that it's more testing on behalf of the woman, measuring his skill and giving the audience at least something of a show in the perception that she's about to get flattened horribly.

Dazzler has posed:
"The promise of cash and fame is a trap all it's own, Rogue," Dazzler reminds. And she would know. "What about that poor girl about to get stomped by Batroc? Why would she really be lining up for that? What happens here is wrong," she's keeping her voice low because she's not trying to be an Obvious Buzzkill Nofunnick to... well, anyone but Rogue, really.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    Batroc is, indeed, no slouch. And with Molly 'sizing him up', it gives the large man a chance to put on his display of his martial awareness, slamming a kick into 'Steppin' Razor', and leaping impossibly far, to kick her again into the side of the cage. The man does not seem to have mercy. But then again, he's a mercenary for hire. And, he's here to up his value in that particular market.

    "Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, it seems we have another fight on our hands, and the savante specialist is going to town on Steppin' Razor, who hasn't been able to yet mount an offense against his brutality. This could get ugly, folks."

Sarah Osborn has posed:
Sarah has heard of Batroc, a decent close range fighter with high agility and the ability to leap greater than normal human distances. She keeps her eye on the fight, no matter who wins there is a fair chance Goblin-girl will be asked to fight them in a later round. She flips on the aura scanners to check to see if either of the fighter has anything more than human about them. Thi makes her goblin eyes glow yellow and makes it hard to see inanimate objects, but makes the living auras of those she looks at clearly fisible...and allows her to see such things as magic spells and even metant powers. Of course, she does not always know what the meaning is of what she sees.

Scandal Savage (1017) has posed:
"Don't tell me that you're here to mount a rescue," Scandal answers Elliot - sounding exasperatedly amused, but keeping her own voice pitched low enough to make eavesdropping extremely difficult. She, too, keeps one eye on the ring... and her potential rivals for contracts currently in there. "Or are you looking for people to hire? This operation does seem to serve as something of a meat market, in that regard."

Little Blackhawk has posed:
"Rescuse them from what? Themselves?" Elliot asks before briefly shaking her head. "It'd be cool to find someone who would fit with the outfit but- um..." ELliot is staring openly as Molly steps into the arena. Those blue eyes study the woman intently before latching onto Batroc's acrobatic mvoements. She takes a deep breath. "There was a mercenary attack in middle of Hell's Kitchen the other night. Some locals I didn't recognize got involved... I was hoping I'd find someoen I recognized here." Elliot shrugs, blowing a stray strand of hair away from her face, and then leans forward slightly with her hands on her knees.

Rogue has posed:
"Maybe." Rogue said in response to this bit from Alison, taking another sip of her beer she shook her head. "Ain't gonna eve'ah be able t'stop this kinda stuff from happenin' though. Ah mean, how far back inta human history do these kinda things go on?" She asked, looking over at Dazzler then. "Caveman days, probably... fightin' ove'ah who wins the succulant pig-roast dinne'ah and who hasta go find a berry busy to eat from." Rogue put her eyes back down toward the stage and nodded at it. "This is what folks do. They eithe'ah fight like this, or they fight each othe'ah on Twitter. People fight, endlessly, for foreve'ah." She was only eighteen and she hadn't completely bought into Charles' ideas, clearly.

Molly Millions has posed:
The kick wasn't exactly expected, it's not so much going with the strike as simply making sure that Molly doesn't wind up getting knocked out on the side of the cage. But it also tells her that nope, it's time to end this before he lays another one of those on her.

There's an acknowledging nod from her as she prowls in, like she's got the intention of just sticking to the slug fest. But she has his measure now, and she's waiting for that sudden kick. He's in peak physical condition, but she's wired for twitch response, which shows when she pivots away from his strike and leads first with the shin into the side of his support leg and follows through with an elbow upside the head, unconcerned about the likelihood of breaking something vital in the process.

Dazzler has posed:
GOD and Rogue looks it too, Dazzler feels so old all over again. "You're too young to be so jaded, but I suppose that can't be helped from your upbringing - or lack of it. We're meant for better than this, people can *be* better, when they're not busy fighting over scraps like animals." She stands up then, though. "I've got mental notes to make, don't let me distract you from your entertainment. Make sure your thumbs are warmed up when they ask if the defeated should live or die." Without waiting for a response or looking back, Dazzler walks closer to the arena, ostensibly to spectate but more to look around and get a sense of how security works around here.

Scandal Savage (1017) has posed:
Scandal frowns pensively, addressing Elliot while watching "Steppin' Razor" take on Batroc. "Mmmm. I cannot claim to be entirely au fait with the state of affairs in New York. Or many other places. I have been distracted, of late. Coming here is, in part, an attempt to remvoe at least a little of my ignorance. It's certainly interesting to see Batroc fight: he's something of a 'name' in some circles. But I take it that you are not managing to locate anyone you wish to identify?"

Renee Montoya has posed:
    Batroc is a half-second too late with the snap of his knee, or Molly is just that quick. In either case, the man is suddenly without footing, and his head connects solidly with the ground. Batroc starts to get up, but then his head gets dizzy, and he falls back, spent. He is not entirely unconscious, but he knows that another hit like that, he could snap something and be out for ages. And his head is swimming too much to fight.
    "And a surprise, strong attack from Steppin' Razor knocks The Leaper from his feet, and the savante specialist appears to yield the fight. Too bad he doesn't know that the winner is the one who is able to walk out. What say you, Steppin' Razor? Is the fight over?"
    Now the crowd is a bit more - into it. And there are quite a few chants for broken bones, blood, even a few calls to 'end it all'.

Sarah Osborn has posed:
Considers carefully, and votes for the fight to continue. Letting her potential future fores tire themselves is in her favor...and Batroc is not exactly a good guy.

Little Blackhawk has posed:
"Looks like I found one of them actually.Fighting right now. Stepping Razor." Elliot responds to Scandal in a relatively clinical tone, tilting her head slightly as she does. "They were helping, during the attack. I just want to find out if thye know any more about what is going on than I do..." She gives a slow shrug of her shoulders and then takes a deep breath. "Crazies with bow and arrows shooting it out with a modern mercenary outfit a block from my parents' home." For once, Elliot lets emotion into her voice. Not anxiety but anger. "The fighting might be good for me anyway," the girl finishes cheerfully.

Miss Moreau has posed:
There's a gasp from Moreau as she listens to her bird and the announcer. Her heart skips a beat. She forces herself to drink, to resist the urge to leap down and plunge a weapon into the fallen man's heart. To feel him bleed.

Miss Moreau lets out a joyous laugh as that question rings through the air.

"Lash him, rend him, supp on his flesh oh sweet, sweet Razor! Victory should be enjoyed, and a beast blood soaked! Stain your claws, beautiful predator!" Encourages Moreau. Her voice sure does carry.

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly's not going to leave it to question who won, it's not personal to her in the slightest and she's not going for the kill but she's got no compunction about not stomping on his head just to make sure he doesn't get any bright ideas. The blood it causes is probably just a bonus for the satisfaction of the crowd. A couple of stomps just to make sure he's good and unconscious and off she prowls back towards the pit again unhurriedly.

Scandal Savage (1017) has posed:
"She certainly seems capable," Scandal notes, cocking her head slightly in response to the bloody denouement of the contest... before looking back to Elliot. "A desire to defend a parent for whom you care? That I can certainly understand. Though unless you have quite considerable hidden talents, I would hope that what you have seen thus far might disabuse you of any notions of entering the ring. I would prefer not to see *that*" - she nods towards the cage - "happen to anyone willing to suggest that I am worth employing."

Renee Montoya has posed:
    "A curb stomp to end it all. Girl has style. And, Batroc? Fine footwork, but apparently the Steppin' Razor's reaction time was just a bit too fast for him. Onto our next fight. The notorious Cat Man will take on the ever interesting Miss Moreau. This should be ... an interesting fight, Ladies & Gentlemen. You might want to sit on the edges of your seat for this one.

    A man in a yellow suit, with three red claw slashes designed into the chest walks out. He sports a simliar cowl to that of Batman, except his is cat-themed. And, since there are no weapons? Well. No utility belt, or catarangs for him. But, he doesn't look all that intimidated either, going up against Miss Moreau.

Little Blackhawk has posed:
"Already on the roster. If I back out now they'll just throw me into the ring," Elliot replies laconically to Scandal, shrugging faintly when she does. "I'll just have to not let that happen," she continues more seriously.

Afterward Elliot leans back into her seat and spares a moment to look up at the woman beside her and smile sweetly. "Besides. The only way to get to meet the higher ups here is to work your way through the ranks. ANd... They know everyone."

Miss Moreau has posed:
"Ahh, there we are. Oh, joy!" Sing-songs Moreau as she passes into the pit finally. It's a slight walk, but she's nimble. She polishes off her wine, touches a page in her book, and then her finger to the brand on the Raven on her shoulder. Then, she places her book to one of the staff for safe keeping.

"I trust I shall have it back in one piece." Then, off goes the cane, and into the ring she goes. She faces her opponent. Her raven caws, and she dips into a curtsey.

"Good evening. May we both enjoy ourselves to our heart's content, Sir!" A sweet, sweet giggle. Her grin is a wolf's. That pale tongue passes over her lips.

And then, she springs. Her hearing is good, even without the aide of her book. It's a waltz she plays, dancing, spinning and turning as she goes for her opponent. She's no master of unarmed combat. But she's a fencer. And so the sharp nails of her hands lash out, the woman trying to outright stab her opponent with them. Swift, measured, and accurate. But these are testing blows. The real prize awaits, as she tries to get a sense of just how beastly this man is.

Scandal Savage (1017) has posed:
Scandal shoots Elliot a distinctly surprised look, then shakes her head a touch. "Already on the roster? Well, it should be interesting, at least." Then the new arrivals in the ring evidently startle her. "*She's* fighting? And what are *you* doing here, Blake? You'd better not get yourself impaled...." She shakes her head, then offers an aside to Elliot. "The woman's a conjurer. A mage of some sort. Can call up... creatures, though I don't know if they'd count as 'weapons' here. The other: he's Cat Man. Became a joke, in his own words: a fat slob who got beaten up in his own home by Green Arrow. Hit-men sent to kill him didn't even think he was worth it. Then he went off to Africa, 'found himself' again, and now... he's one of the toughest and most capable men I've ever met. Though he'll be without the fighting claws here, so he probably won't kill her...."

Sarah Osborn has posed:
Catman is rumored to be pretty tough now, not super human, but a very capable human, able to fight Batman on even terms. He will not have his weapons, but his costume is rumored to give him the nine lives of a cat. She turns on her Auric scanner and immediately can see the confluence of forces around the woman, whoever she is she definately has magic of some kind. Catman does not really seem to have any magic about him that she can detect.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    Catman, despite the simplicity of his name and the mockery he makes of Batman is no slouch. He moves with a martial artists grace, blocking aside Miss Moreau's attempt to stab him with the back of his wrist, following up with a hard slam into her solar plexus with his other hand, his features unexpressive.

    "Miss Moreau comes with her claws out -- literally! And Catman doesn't even blink his eyes. Will it be a Cat & Mouse game? Or, will Moreau let the Cat out of the bag?" She seems to enjoy her humor. So does the crowd, whose appetite for blood, and harm, seems to have only increased. Just as Roulette has planned.

    The man in yellow follows up his attack with a few kicks, not underestimating Moreau as Batroc underestimated Molly Millions.

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly Millions's watching the cage as much as the stands from behind her lenses. If there had been any sign that the kick hurt her, it's faded. The woman herself back to placid as she taps definitely fake scarlet nails on the edge of the pit absently, muttering mostly under her breath,"I still don't get what's with the costumes."

Little Blackhawk has posed:
"Yeah, I've heard of Catman. I'm looking forward to seeing what he can teach me," Elliot replies to Scandal, slowly nodding her head as she does. She leans back in the seat and takes another deep breath. "I didn't have a lot of options for makign inroads here. The fact I alread y found one of the people I was looking for me tells me I'm at least looking in the right place. If I don't get torn I should be able to find out soemwhat I need to know." The girl sounds positively cheerful about the possibility of being disemboweled. "I've heard of Catman... He's definitely not a joke anymore." She worries her bottom lip as the fighting starts. When people start moving Elliot is always staring at them like the world's secrets are being unveiled in front of her.

Miss Moreau has posed:
OOMPH! Moreau stumbles back from the hard hit, the wind knocked from her. Luckily, so much fancy dress padding takes the wind out of the blow. But her Raven does flap off. Just a foot or two above the swirling melee. And swirling it is, as once again Catman comes back in! Kicks are met either with air, or almost parry-like blocks from Moreau. But she's sweating, heart racing. It's obvious the Catman is simply better as a melee fighter. Yet, that smile of hers never leaves. NOr does she stop, giggling the entire time.

She takes a kick again to the wrist, her hand and arm bruised. She follows with a leaping spin, almost swan like, and a hard kick aimed for the leg. Then, she stops, and leaves an opening at her chest.

A trap, of course. Because as soon as Catman comes in? That Raven's mouth opens from above. There's no cry, just a fleshy, tearing sound as eight tendrils not unlike tongues spew from it's mouth. Feet and feet of the dripping things lash out for any part of Catman they can get at: throat, back, chest, legs. There's a thin needle like protrusion at the end of them.

Should it hit? It immediately starts pumping black liquid into the man.

Scandal Savage (1017) has posed:
Scandal relaxes a little: Blake is fighting with an identifiable style - he's therefore in control. And consequently not nearly so dangerous as when he lets go, and allows Catman's instinct and ferocity to carve a bloody path for him. "I'm hoping that we don't see him fight without restraint here. Either way, it'd mean that things were getting decidedly messy...." Then her voice trails off, as the raven does *that*.

Sarah Osborn has posed:
Now was the bird something else all along, or is that a spell cast by the sorceress? Goblin Girl can not tell, but makes a note tat the Raven should be dealt with early in the fight, just in case, if SHE ever fights the mage.

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly Millions gives a low whistle at the bird. Okay, that's kind of... impressively worrying. Even if she doesn't let the emotion settle on her face it's in the body language with which she shifts, resting her forearm against the cyclone wire and her forehead just underneath.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    "We -do- love dirty tricks, don't you? Well. She wasn't allowed in with the items she wanted, but it looks like Miss Moreaus still has a few tricks of her sleeves. Catman's reeling! But not out! As Miss Moreau goes for the killing strike ---,"

    Catman is stunned, briefly, but he's certainly not out. Yet, he's not used to fighting magic. Martial arts? Yes. He can deal with martial arts. His cape is brought around to wrap around the Raven, and he swirls his cloak about it, utilizing it as a weighted weapon to slam into Moreau's outstreched vile claw, just as it starts to pump that vile liquid into him. Yet, some of that stuff goes into him, all the same. And he doesn't know what. And he's not up to continuing the fight, knowing his adrenaline will only pump it further into his system.

    He looks warningly at Moreau, and says to her, and her alone, "I yield. I will go down. You will walk out of here. Or, we both die in this arena. Your choice." His gaze is murderous. "My next series of blows -will- break your neck. If you wish to press it."

Miss Moreau has posed:
Moreau 'oooh's. The mere fact that Catman isn't yet on the floor, writhing, and bleeding internally is interesting. Moreau taps her chin, then she spins in place. Her arms open. Finally, she dips low.

"It seems I have much to learn. Well fought, Mister Catman. Let us hunt together sometime, hmm?"

The bird's tendrils snap out of the man, pulling back into the creature as if it were on some sort of pully system. Then, it's back on her shoulder after a recovery from the hard blow. It got her right in the chest, just where she'd left that opening. She's bruised, but happy.

"I would make sure you take some anti venom. A little hint, for the entertainment. Puffer-fish, and a frog." Comes her whisper.

Sarah Osborn has posed:
There is a faint noise from one of the pouches on her bandoleers. She checks the celkl phone hidden in that pouch and frowns behind her mask. The rules say that fighters can leave any time after their first match, and it seems Sarah Osborn has somewhere else to be. She excuses herself and exits the room.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    "The surprise win from Miss Moreau, but - Catman does not seem to be all that down. Well. Both of them will soon learn. This is, after all, only preliminary night. Starting on our next event - nobody leaves the cage unless someone is completely unconscious. Or dead. And our second to last fight, for this evening. Sparrow. Yet another newcomer. Versus ... FLAG-SMASHER."

    The crowd is even -more- eager for something violent now. Especially with the way the last fight ended, but all kinds of money is still changing hands. Bets. Booze. It's a good fight night.

    A tall man in white uniform with black leggings and white boots walks out, smashing his hand into his palm. Ready to fight this ... Sparrow.

Scandal Savage (1017) has posed:
"Do try not to get killed. The world needs its quota of beautiful blondes," Scandal instructs Elliot as she pushes off from the wall. "I'm going to go and see if Blake needs any help in not dying. But good luck to you - whether this is you up now, or in the next one. I'll watch if I can." Then she raises a hand in farewell, striding off into the crowd, intending to go to find out whether Moreau's raven has done anything incurably horrendous to one of the few people in the world she considers an actual friend.

Little Blackhawk has posed:
Elliot stands up from her seat beside the arean and takes a deep breath. She looks around slowly and then pulls up her gray hoodie, tossing it onto the chair behind her. Now dressed in a short-sleeved t-shirt with an obvious pink sports bra shadowed underneath and simple exercise pants Elliot looks like Trackstar Barbie, coming in at 5'1" (sans boots) with her fingerless gloves and her wide blue eyes.

"This one's me," the girl confirms for Scandal as she walks up. "I'll try not to get myself killed. Let me know if you see what goes down? I'll catch up to you later." Into the arena Elliot goes. Flag-Smasher seems even taller next to the tiny blonde who stares at him like he might be made of murderous implements. She fidgets slightly and takes a deep breath. Slowly.

"Okay..." 'Sparrow' starts. At least she fits her moniker.

Miss Moreau has posed:
Moreau is out of the pit, and back to her table. This time, there's a good three mojitos waiting. She sips daintily, book back in her hands. From the time it takes her to leave, and find her seat? That Raven is perched on her shoulder. It's feathers are ruffled, and it seems being used as a brick against Moreau has cost it an eye.

It's also now a few inches larger, and it's feathers have taken on a golden color as though made of spun gold. The woman is nothing if not prepared after showing off one of her tricks.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    Flag Smasher does not wait for Elliot ... Sparrow ... to get into the cage, or even the door shut, before his heavy boot is slamming into the barbie doll's chest, sedning her backwards.

    "And the fight is one!" Roulette calls, gleefully, into the sound system. "Playing fair in here, little Sparrow, is liable to get you killed. Let's see if she can fly - or if her wings will get broken by Flag Smasher," she calls, to stir the frenzied crowd up further.

    Meanwhile, Flag Smasher isn't waiting for Sparrow to recover. Not in the least. He's moving to follow up with a violent punch, aimed directly at her head. End the fight quick. And, brutally.

Little Blackhawk has posed:
Elliot lets out a hoarse gasp as she stumbles backward from the kick. It throws her back toward the wall but she catches herself just beofre hitting the actual cage. When he lunges to continue Elliot- shows off her reflexes. She dodges the punch like it is moving in slow motion, stepping left and then launching into a brutal roundhouse kick that catches Flag-Smasher in the abdomen. She's wobbly but it hasn't slowed her down. If the girl was bigger that kick would do real damage.

Elliot quickly circles left, darting back to clear some distance between them. Then she launches into an impressive flying kick reminiscent of Batroc's earlier antics. In fact, her movements seem to incorporate a little of everyone she's been watching, as well as some gymnastics that have her using cage walls to dodge blows and add powers to quick jabs and kicks.

It's a matter of wearing the opponent down and finding a chance for a good blow. In short bursts Elliot moves like a blur and before long... She seems to know how to anticipate Flag Smasher's moves too.

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly Millions's lurking in the pit of waiting fighters, and can't help but furrow her brows just slightly with curiousity for Elliot... Sparrow's... fight. Her time will come again, and after Moreau and with Flag Smasher's actions she's got a fair idea that the blood lust of the place is only starting to ramp up. Still she doesn't seem set to try and bow out of the fighting for now.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    Flag Smasher is indeed far bulkier than the tiny little Sparrow (Elliot) in the cage. And as his movements seem to be avoided, countered, and attacked, the man seems to hone in one exactly how Elliot is pulling all this off. Or, he has an idea. Something unkind is muttered under his breath in French, and this time, he fully commits to a punch towards Elliot. He draws her attention in with that. But as that punch is missed, it will come, perhaps, too late, to Elliot that the punch was intended to miss, and having drawn her in his knee slams up into her chest again.
    Then, he's following up with an elbow to the back of her neck, with the intent of shattering her spine, if he can. Killing her. Yet, this move leaves his own chest open, for the briefest of moments. If Sparrow can see it.

    "The little Sparrow can -fight-, Ladies and Gentleman. Even Batroc would be proud, but it looks like Flag Smasher is about to add another notch on his belt!"

Graydon Creed (1075) has posed:
A new challenger walks into the fight club. How do you know he's a new challenger? He's built like a professional merc wearing a full head covering helmet reminiscent of Red Hood only with a skull motif that has a blood red streak across the eyes. A sleeveless set of combat gear shows off an arm length asian dragon on one arm. Combat gloves, boots, pants, combat vest with high tech body armor, a utility pouch with many pockets and devices as well as a flame thrower. He walks over to one of the guards and says in a digitally altered voice, "I'm assuming I need to check this?" asking about the flame thrower. "Am I too late to get a slot? I was looking forward to dismembering someone tonight."

Little Blackhawk has posed:
    Elliot falls for it. Flag Smasher changes the pattern and when she dodges Elliot dodges predictably. She shifts her weight to the left and a knee is thrown. It strikes her in the chest and she gasps loudly. Then she stumbles forward, staggering toward the arena floor.
    When the elbow comes down at Elliot's neck she is already lunging at Flag Smasher's chest. Snarling the tiny Sparrow throws herself into him in style that must be entirely her own as she trades skill and speed for skill and *viciousness*. She's watched people demolish other people with their fists, and once inside Flag Smasher's guard Elliot doesn't hesitate.
    The girl can worry about the cracked rib later. She'll be swaying when she steps out of the ring, no doubt. But she just keeps pummeling her opponent with fists and elbows and knees in a technically impressive display of savagery.
    Kill him? Maybe not. But Elliot is intending to *wound*.

Miss Moreau has posed:
Moreau, by now definitely drunk, is laughing as she enjoys the fight. So much strength! And how Elliot pounds and pounds and pounds!

"Rip out his teeth! Bite out his throat! Ahhhh! What a wonderful show!" Encourages the woman once again. Her hand reaches up, and she offers a mojito to the Raven.

It starts sucking down drink thirstily. "Tasty, Constance?"

Renee Montoya has posed:
    "You can go in the last round," says one of the huge, burly, heavy-fisted men guarding the cage door. Their arms and legs are like veritible tree trunks, and each of the men is perhaps seven feet tall each. The brute points, to a series of two other men, and a woman, waiting their turns. Each of these people are dressed in a pure white costume, and a pure white mask, making the new and late arrival stand out.

    In the ring, however, Sparrow is pummelling Flag Smasher, whom she managed to catch off balance. A few of his ribs crack, too, until she manages to wraps her body around him, snake her thigh and leg about his neck as she moves up, and using his own momentum, smashes his face into the hard floor beneath. As he attempts to get up, she snaps his arm, violently, and then Flag Smasher passes out from pain, and weariness. Sparrow stands up, intending to do no more. And, she staggers, swaying out of the cage, holding her own ribs to herself tightly and trying not to show how much pain she is really in.

    "Yet another surprise turn of events. The little Sparrow is hurt, but unbroken. And Flag Smasher has been fully smashed. And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, we move on to our MAIN EVENT. It's a Four On One Event. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, your programs are now old. Outdated. We've another player to the team at the last minute. The Horror Show. A fitting name, for a fitting fight. Fighters, if you'll each take a corner, in the ring."
    Roulette pauses, "You'll be fighting the initial House Champion. Whoever is left standing - wins. Let the betting begin."

Graydon Creed (1075) has posed:
Being told the no weapons rule Horror show groans, "Take all the fun out of it." and in front of the crowd he starts to disarm making a pile in front of the body guards. Flame thrower, 4 pistols, two UZI, 17 grenades, 10 smokes, 7 flash bangs, a sawed off pump action shotgun tucked into a rip away compartment on his pants leg, a boot knife, six stiletto style daggers with strange handles, "Do not touch these, they explode." a couple of EMPs, a bag that he very carefully takes off his belt and sets down gently, "Don't make that angry." then an axe from his belt, he takes off his watch and puts it on the pile, Gods only know what it does, then he takes off his utility belt pats himself down and takes out a round metal sphere that looks like one of the orbs from the Phantasm. He very carefully sets that down nestled between the bags on the pile, "For the love of God, don't even breath on it." he warns the guards. Then he gets into the ring wearing only his clothing and his mask.

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly Millions does actually apparently feel some small amount of compassion for Elliot, reaching out a hand to help guide the girl to a seat at least for all that she doesn't offer medical assistance. But the horror show of Horrow Show having to offload his weapons brings a smile to her face with a small shake of her head. Curious as to what might be about to happen.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    The guards honor Horror Show's wishes. Their only job? Make sure nobody enters the ring who shouldn't. And make sure nobody leaves the ring early. As the four combatants enter the ring, and take their positioins a trap door in the floor opens.
    The crowd goes deadly silent, waiting.
    "And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, Thieves and Murderers, Anti Heroes and Mercenaries, Crimelords and Pimps, I introduce to you ... The Demon Child."

    Smoke billows out from the platform as a tall, six-foot something young man - skin mottled between the color of crimson, and olive skin tone, two horns on his hand, and one arm larger, meatier, and more muscular than the other in a thick plating of obsisian and cracked with crimson comes into view. His eyes, too, are red.
    "This. Ladies and Gentlemen. This. Is why some of you are here. Let's see how well Junior does, against these four."

    And with that, the three fighters in white move as a single unit, as if they were some kind of team. The largest charges Demon Child up the front, while the smaller and faster female, and mid-sized male take up either side, running to pincher-move the mutant, or meta, or whatever it is.
    The charger lands a punch, hard, into the boy's face. The small woman attempts to kick his legs from under him, while the mid-sized fellow goes for an aerial attack.
    All three attacks land with precision. But, the Demon Child seems to only rock, one way, and then the other. As if he were made of rock, and not flesh.

Little Blackhawk has posed:
Elliot watches as the weaposn are unloaded and allows Molly to lead her back to the seats. The tiny blonde is able to walk street, so clearly the injuries could have been worse. Still, she almost misses her seat the first time she tries to take it. Flashing Molly a surprisingly cheerful smile Elliot is pretty content to slide alll the way back and take a deep breath. Slowly. Carefully. "Thank you," the girl murmurs then before propping herself in the seat. "...That's a lot of guns. How do you carry that many weapons at one time?"

Molly Millions has posed:
"I don't know. But I'm sure I could find a way." Molly drawls for Elliot, her lenses on the cage. The smile fades from her face slowly as the Demon Child appears,"Whatever that thing is... 's definitely not something to play with longer than it takes to put it down." she leaves the 'if it can be' unspoken from the end of her words, giving a flick of her fingers towards one of the people watching the pit to retrieve her jacket and fletchette pistol. Apparently figuring that the current match is going to bring down the house... one way or another.

Miss Moreau has posed:
"Oh dear, what a delicious scent! I can smell the brimstone from here!"

Moreau shouts. "I hope you gentlemen had your fists blessed recently! Otherwise he might drag you all to hell!"

Tittering along with her Raven, Miss Moreau hums a happy tune. Her fingers scrawl around the page with a light touch.

"Mmm...acid...too boring. Lead teeth? Too obvious. Oh dear, yes yes yes yes that's perfect. This will be /so/ much fun to use!" Mumbles the mad mage to herself.

Graydon Creed (1075) has posed:
Horror Show is more than happy to let the three of them tire him out. Instead the man watches, studied, asks himself questions about the meta. How does it see? What are its weak points. He looks for joins that seem overly large, overly large usually means they are easy to snap from the side. He watches the way the creature attacks, finding its rhythm, looking for tells to know when it's going to attack and how. Metas always rely too heavily on their powers, rarely do they perfect their style. Rarely do they clean up their movements so they don't telegraph their attacks. He watches how the thing breaths to see if it has high or low endurance so when it's his turn he'll know if he needs to drag out the fight or kill it quickly. Fight smarter and harder.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    "It seems that the Demon Child has a measure of resiliance to him and --- ouch! One of the White Wings is down. And. -Out-," Roulette says.

    The crowd gets its wish as the woman moves in tandem with the large man, seeking to go for the throat. This causes Demon Child to finally react as if he were seeing something for the first time. The overly large hand grabs the girl by the head like it were a baseball, and he smashes her head hard, into the hard floor. Repeatedly. Again, and again, while her teammates try to pry him off. Attack him. But it's as if he -- it -- doesn't seem to feel. Doesn't seem to see.
    The larger man slams another hand into it's neck again, and only then does the Demon Child's head turn to look at the larger man.
    Horror Show, as well as some of the more seasoned veterans, might notice that the meta is only using his larger arm. The smaller, human-like arm is inert. Swinging, lifelessly as the creature moves, staggers back from the throat chop.
    A blinding fast kick sends the larger man into the side of the cage before another throat-chop can hit it.

    "Horror Show is - well, watching the horror show going on. Safety in numbers, right, everyone? Let's see what's going to happen. It's now three on one."

Graydon Creed (1075) has posed:
Horror Show walks calmly over to the downed woman and picks up one of his arms. Putting his boot on the unconscious man's arm The Show starts to pull on the arm and push with his foot at the side of the elbow until it bends, then breaks then shatters. Living up to his name everyone gets to watch as he pulls the bloody meat aways from the detached arm and slings the blood off of it. Blunt on one end, jagged on the other. Now he has a weapon.

Testing a theory he takes a calming, focused breath slowing his heartbeat and emptying out his emotions like he does before he goes on stage before debates and press conferences then he whistles a high pitch whistle to see if the monster even acknowledges him.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    Horror Show might just become a crowd favorite, if he keeps this up. The ripping of the arm draws a lot of applause, nearly drowning out Roulette's approval call of, "And Horror Show gets himself a weapon. Let's see if he can stack up better than his comrades-in-arms." Even Roulette likes a pun, every now and then. Who doesn't?

    The rest of the Whites, that's who. The large man in white groans, and slowly gets up, the only other standing moving behind Horror Show, not knowing apparently how to tackle this problem without his team.

    Demon Child looks towards Horror Show, and begins to shuffle his way, menacingly.

Graydon Creed (1075) has posed:
Horror Show takes a few steps to the right as the wing "sneaks" up behind him. Creed all but ignores the big man just moving himself and the man so that they aren't in a straight line between the monster and the wing. Being a leader, Horror Show assumes command, his voice deadly serious as if he expects the surviving wing to obey him. "I know how to kill it. I need you alive until that is done. I'll keep you alive as long as you're useful. Distract it, get as angry and as loud as you can, lure it to the cage wall, I'll hit it's weak spot from behind, it won't see me. You can try to kill me after that."

Renee Montoya has posed:
    There's little choice, but to follow Horror Show at this point. The man does get angry. Angry he's in this situation. Angry, his partner is -dead-. Angry at Roulette. Angry that he's being shown up by Horror Show. He connects a few hits into the thing, and then backs away, luring it, slowly, as it shuffles towards him, leaving it open for Horror Show as he guides it back, into the cage wall, and then climbs the cage wall to get out of the way of that meaty hand with an acrobatic's quickness.

    The Demon Child has all but forgotten about Horror Show, for now.

    The crowd cheers, enthusiastically, certain they're about to see another death.

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly Millions shrugs into her jacket, checking the cartridge of her fletchette by automatic habit before sliding it away. It was temporarily in the hands of another, have to make sure it's not been tampered with after all. She departs the pit without any particular hurry to find a spot among the spectators, hands settled on her hips as she stares at the cage from behind her silver lenses. She's not the sort to shout, but apparently she's content to observe with absorbant silence.

Graydon Creed (1075) has posed:
Horror Show stays motionless until the monster gets a few yards ahead of him and gabs the wing's head in it's one large monstrous hand. He lets the creature gut the Wing before Creed takes action. Then moving with practiced swiftness and silence like a modern ninja he pads across the hard floor like a ghost and grabs the flopping small arm on the demon's side. Once more he uses his boot for leverage to rip the arm off, this time ripping the small, gimped arm off at the shoulder in a spray of blood that erupts in a circular spray over the white clothed survivor.

The creature screams as Horror Show leaps onto his back using one hand to hold on to his horn as he stabs the arm bone into the open hole over and over piecing his internal organs with the shard of bone time and time again as the creature twists and howls throwing the surviving Wing against the cage, alive.

The Creature roars, staggers and Creed let's go as it falls forward toppling over like a colossus. Finally, with a cold detachment he walks over with the gimp arm in his hand and kneels down on the chest of the fallen fighter. He uses his body weight to pin him down as the man struggles weak and broken, "I said you could try. I didn't say it would be fair." the man says reaching down to add insult to injury. He doesn't give the man a good death, no, he takes his mask and pulls it up over his eyes then takes the gimp arm from the monster and shoves it down his throat as the crowd watches, stub first.

Deeper and deeper until even the elbow of the arm is in his obscenely bulging throat. Then Horror Show reaches up and touches the side of mask amplifying his voice as he sits down next to the twitching corpse and starts moving the fighter's head back and forth causing the little gimp hand to wave. Horror Show waves in time with the little hand, "Thanks for coming folks, have a safe drive home! Remember, stay awesome!"

Renee Montoya has posed:
    "Horror Show takes the cake. All bets are final! Ladies and Gentlemen, remember - this is just the first night. The real show, the real fights start with our next round. Do come again."

    Roulette disappears into the skybox. The lights come up. The dark web feeds cut out. And, the cage opens. The dead creature, sitting in a pool of black blood, is inert, thanks to Horror Show's quick thinking. The two goons open the cage, to allow Horror Show back to his weapons, and, everyone slowly files out.

    For Roulette? It's been a good night. She turns to her major domo after they're in her private room, "Just as expected. Have our good friend amplify the dosage into the next patient. We want to make sure we're satisfying our investors. Now, leave me for the night. I've got some celebrating to do."