1493/Fight Night

Fight Night
Date of Scene:	16 July 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Wu, Ares, Doctor Strange

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Wu has posed:
    China Basin is filled with decent, if poor people. Its people, however, are the kind who don't interact well with authority. Many come from countries where the authorities are worse than criminals. Others come from places where the authorities and the criminals are in cahoots. Almost all of them have the problem of not being able to easily communicate with the authorities. This means that a lot of criminal scum infest the area, living their parasitic lives off of the decent, impoverished folk.
    Tonight is something special, though, even for the neighbourhood's usual infestation. Word has been spreading through the underworld: Fight Night! A no-holds-barred, almost-no-rules contest of raw guts, force, power, and skill. The few rules are: you go into the ring; if you leave the ring, you lose; if you lose consciousness, you lose; if you lose your life, you lose. Purses for these fights are high, and the side betting is expected to reach astronomical levels.
    Alleys in a two block radius are taken over. A courtyard is converted into a mini-stadium with the ring crudely drawn in the middle with white paint.
    It's time to rumble.

Ares has posed:
    Some of the fights have already passed, a good number of rounds throwing combatant after combatant in a steady course of elimination. The money-maker is when the final round comes up, but before that there are several others groupings all to determine who from that mass will represent the mess of them in the final.
    For a time it had seemed like the last elimination round it was going to be this tall guy who had an easy calm to him. He took to each round without seeming to care, matching against his opponent and taking them for three minutes or so, and then finally breaking past after a good struggle. None of his opponents were hurt beyond a few bruises and perhaps a knock out, but the early odds on him had been good.
    That is until the last round when the bruiser known as Mulochi seemed to work him over handily. Just punch after punch until the new guy went down. The bookies were mad, money changed hands. But now Mulochi is going to the finals.
    That other big guy, he's sitting nearby in the recovery area, an alcove close by... and sipping his beer.

Wu has posed:
    The namahage from the acid attack was hard to track down. Between powerful friends and medical intervention, Alice's investigations got slowed down. Finally, though, there was the breakthrough. A name. Ozinaki. And from there a string of dominoes fell: a hangout. A known associate. A rap sheet on said associate. A bit of leaning. And now Alice was going to cash in on it. Three dead. A dozen or more maimed. This was one ogre going back to Hell screaming in pain.
    It was easy to slip in. Paint just the right character on a slip of calligraphy paper with just the right inks and you can grease the palms of people, convincing them you'd just slipped them however much money they thought they wanted to see. Crumple up a few bits of rice paper with other characters in other inks and a quick tap to the forehead takes out the ones who are left who won't be bribed. Alice finds herself in the middle of the crowd, searching for her prey.
    And definitely not searching for what she finds instead.
    "Mr. ... Aaron?"
    Time to close that mouth. Catching flies this way.

Ares has posed:
    The losers have their own place set off to the side but in viewing distance of the fights, perhaps to let them know what they're missing out on, or maybe just a touch of courtesy. Whatever it is, most of the eyes are on the fight that's going on right now. For the losers? Nah nobody has much time for them. But the free beer helps it go a long way.
    There at a makeshift bench seat table, John Aaron is settled in the shadows a bit, one foot resting on the seat beside him, his elbow on that raised knee that's sporting an ice pack taped to its side to treat a bit of swelling. But other than that he seems at ease with his bottle in hand.
    Then across his line of sight passes Alice Gulliver. Looks are exchanged, and then a small bit of a smirk. He doesn't look like he did in that day at that park. Oh the features are the same except for the butterfly bandage on a cut on his brow, but bare-chested and in a pair of grey sweats and sneakers... he definitely doesn't present the clean cut dad image anymore.

Wu has posed:
    Alice looks surprised, yes, but also worried. This is a bit of a crimp in her plans.
    "Mr. Aaron, I will overlook your participation in a grossly illegal gambling and assault event, but I must insist you leave!" She furrows her brow. "This is not a good place for civilians; or, rather, will soon not be a good place. Get out of here. Take whatever winnings you can collect quickly, and leave the neighbourhood."
    She palms a piece of paper as she attempts to hustle Ares out of his chair. When her hand makes contact with him, a flash of light in the mystic sphere goes off, and a feeling of wanting to obey spreads through him.
    Well, that's what appears to be intended.
    And to be fair, that's how it starts. Then it floods out of him, leaving instead the realization behind of what she's done. Compulsion? Just not happening.

Ares has posed:
    At first he rises, setting down his bottle on the table with a clink of glass. His head turning to the side even as the young detective urges him into motion, her hand at his arm, words and actions urging him to the departure. And, for a moment, it seems to make such sense.
    "I have no winnings," He offers in response, head tilting curiously as he seems to rise and rise to his full height. Looking down on her, John's brow furrows as he murmurs, "I assure you I am quite safe,"
    And yet he's untaping the ice from his leg and tossing that with a crunch on the tabletop. He steps away from the table...
    Then the compulsion slips away, a wisp of haze from his thoughts drifting. His eyes narrow as he looks at her, then he frowns most severely. "If something portends ill, I will stay. Tell me what passes, Ms. Gulliver and you will find me more playable to your whims through well-reasoned words as opposed to weak magicks."

Wu has posed:
    Shit. Alice cringes a little as the magicks fade far more quickly than they should have. This is what you get when you prepare for one thing and find another...
    "It was worth a shot," she says sheepishly. "OK, here's the quick version: I'm here hunting a namahage. When I find him I'm sending him straight back to the ten thousand Hells, screaming. Other people will try to stop me. They, too, in many cases, will wind up screaming their way to their Hell if they are ... one of the namahage's associates. The rest will be waiting for pickup by ambulance. I'd prefer not to have Alexander left fatherless. Please leave."

Ares has posed:
    "Ms. Gulliver," He turns his head to the side, as if now trying to find this creature she speaks of. He frowns again then shifts his attention back to her, "Your concern is touching, but I can handle matters in regards to my personal safety. I recommend you advance on this creature and I will ensure you do not come to..." He pauses and eyes her, then adds, "Too much harm."
    That having been said he recovers his beer long enough to tilt it back, draining it and then setting it back down with another clink. Back to her he gives a nod, "Lead on, do what you need, and I will aid you."

Wu has posed:
    Long pause. The sounds of the combatants' flesh thudding under impact occasionally even exceeds the noise of the watching crowd. Seconds tick away.
    Node. Small. Tight. Quick. But definitely there.
    "Very well, Mr. Aaron. Keep yourself out of danger, though, please. I'm the one paid so much to risk this frail shell, not you."
    Irony isn't usually a Chinese thing.
    Alice slips into the crowd again, right arm pressed against her body, eyes searching for her target. Eyes that land on the target. A target whose eyes have just landed on her. The pair stare at each other in momentary surprise of recognition.

Ares has posed:
    "This is going to cost you, you know." He says as he steps off after her, but a few steps behind. At least, in part, John provides some small solution to the crowd as his height signals some of the people in the way to get out of it. He wends his way through as he steps up behind her, pushing lightly on shoulders and turning to the side.
    They make their way through and even as the boxers are going at it behind them, the search is on. But with him watching her back she has the freedom to focus, to try and scan the crowd as best possible. Then that tension overtakes her as she seems to recognize the target...
    John turns his head to the side, following her line of sight. He frowns.

Wu has posed:
    Element of surprise lost, Alice moves into action, all pretense, even, of this being a law enforcement operation dropped as she brings out her handgun and, in a single smooth move, aims and fires, round headed straight for the man's head, turning it into a pulpy explosion rather similar to that of a watermelon under a high calibre attack.
    That's how she pictures it anyway. Unfortunately the execution gets an interruption at a key moment and her aim is knocked off. Instead of going straight through the target's forehead it slices its way through shoulder, at least shattering the collar bone. Her target is out of the fight; the bullets' screeching glow in the mystic sphere seemingly wasted.
    The gunshot sound brings silence to the quadrangle as criminals of every stripe stop talking and shouting and instead crouch, firearms coming out where appropriate, seeking the source and the destination of that shot.
    All eyes, therefore, are on the hulking man clutching his wounded shoulder. All eyes see the transformation as his leather jacket tears into shreds, as he grows a good 25cm and 100kg, as he bulges and grows and generally hulks out of his human form taking on a massive, muscular, hairy, demonic form instead.
    A demonic form no longer clutching its shoulder.
    A demonic form now looking very angry.
    "Shit."

Ares has posed:
    These little excursions, these little runs against the dark souls of humanity as they match against each other, are all to exorcise elements from John Aaron's psyche. Those elements being the grim whispers in the corners of his mind, the creature that cackles in his thoughts at the idea of mayhem... blood... carnage. It is a creature that goes long periods of time in a drought without a single droplet of spilled blood. But it never goes away. It ever hovers about his mind, his eyes, his thoughts.
    It was only waiting, for a moment such as this.
    The smile that creases John Aaron's features is a wild thing even as his eyes light up brightly with such mayhem in the air. He steps forwards to stand beside Alice Gulliver even as his deep baritone voice rumbles with a curious echo, "Do you want the demon or the gunmen?"
    That smile brightening his features entirely, John Aaron steps to the fore, a wispy shadowy form of an M60 General Purpose Machine Gun solidifies in his arms, a crimson flame flickering from the barrel as he brings it up and shouts in a voice that resonates with the shrieks of the damned.
    // Cast your weapons aside mortals, or feel the wrath of Ares! //
    They get exactly three seconds before that machine gun starts to buck, its chain feeding ethereal ammo that slices across the distance viciously.

Wu has posed:
    "The demon is mine," Alice says. "The rest don't matter."
    It's pretty harsh dismissal given that she now knows who Ares is and what he represents. She's focused, however, on revenge and, frankly, doesn't feel a whole lot for the predators around her. She leaps into action, rushing forward toward the demon, dodging, ducking, and weaving in the melee as frantic people run away from the battle, or, slightly more rarely, toward it. A pool cue swings at her back and shatters, flashing very brightly in the mystic sphere, like ablative armour. Its weilder stares at the pieces in his hands before being felled by the punch of a passer-by.
    Every opportunity for a clear shot Alice takes. One killer bee fluctuating wildly in horrific green light to all those with mystic sight speeds its way to the demon, catching it in the chest. It roars in pain and anger and leaps straight at her, seeking to end her before she can sting again.

Ares has posed:
    Three of the men with drawn guns get struck with a burst of rounds from the M60, their weapons being shattered to pieces as heavy rounds strike cleanly, exploding them into their hands as they reel from the impact.
    The tall man rounds and sends a few more bullets down range, chasing off two other gun men who discard their weapons in a hurry, their faces twisted into a mask of pants-wetting terror. But the rest of the belt is chewed up, rounds chugging and churning as they're fired high to inspire other targets to either leave or take cover. Once it clicks empty, the feeder whirring, the tall man scowls and /throws/ the weapon straight at one of the gunmen getting up from behind cover. It smacks heavily into the man, taking him down.
    Now free of weapons, Ares breaks into a run after Alice to cover her as he can while she presses on the demon.

Wu has posed:
    Alice is taking innovative tactics in pressing on the demon. She's under it as it swings wildly at her. She squirms and writhes under it, each of its clawed strikes hitting an article of clothing that flares angrily to those who can see that. The flares, however, weaken with each strike, and with one in particular Alice lets out a howl of pain.
    The sadistic thing at that pauses to leer down at her, gloating, then looking confused as she chuckles back in return.
    "You got me right where I want you," she says, blood pouring out of the corner of her mouth.
    Three quick reports. The creature falls back, clutching its nethers--or rather where its nethers used to be--in horrified, howling, agony.
    Alice gets painfully to her feet. "You have the right to be silent," she says, staggering forward. "Use it!"
    The ball of paper is barely visible, but the massive burst of magical flame that shoots out from it when she forces it down the being's throat is very visible.

Ares has posed:
    She claimed to have it, and so she gets it. The Demon is left alone to be dealt with by Alice Gulliver's own efforts. As she duels with the creature, each of them roaring at each other, it in pain and her with her one-liners, John Aaron spins around and seems to draw a large brutal looking black battle-axe from his side, the weapon gleaming wickedly as he holds it in both hands and takes up a place to stand guard between any interlopers who would interfere with her battle with the ogre creatures.
    The weapon whirls around once as he leans forwards, as if ready to rush into battle once again. One gunman peeks around the corner, only to have Ares point at him with the axe.
    He runs off.

Wu has posed:
    The beast vanishes into the mystical flames, flames now visible in the mortal realm. This produces a new wave of panic as people see what was just a costumed freak fighting with some weird woman turn into a conflagration.
    Alice staggers a few paces away, raising her hands up to shield her face from the heat as the demon is dispelled and dispatched from whence it came, screaming in agony all the way. She looks around, blinking owlishly, sees Ares, raises her eyebrows, grins sickly, then falls to her knees.
    Then falls over sideways, exhausted.

Ares has posed:
    With most of the gunmen sent on their way, and the crowd rushing away from the madness that is Alice Gulliver and her hobbies, it leaves John there with axe in hand. He turns at the feeling of heat that bursts forth to life behind him, searing the world and casting a flash of light that cannot be ignored.
    The axe flickers out of existence as he turns back towards her, seeing her unceremonious keeling over. He frowns and advances on her, kneeling down at her side. "Ms. Gulliver?"
    No answer. He checks her pulse, her features and extremities for flash burns. Bt if she continues to not stir he'll slide an arm under her knees and her back, lifting her smoothly up. "Ms. Gulliver, if you can hear me, I am going to take you to the hospital."

Wu has posed:
    "I can hear you, Mr. Aaron," Alice says. "I'm ... mostly just tired." She looks down at her belly where a thin row of tears in her clothes ooze blood. "He got close with that one," she says. "Went through the last charm. Wouldn't have happened if I had both arms."
    She leans back a moment in Ares' arms, enjoying the momentary respite, then signals down.
    "No hospital. Just put me down. I'm fi..." She pauses. "I WILL be fine."

Ares has posed:
    No hint of him putting her down. "Ms. Gulliver," His voice is that deep baritone that she heard before, controlled once again, the gates having closed behind the beast and locked it away. "You are injured, I am going to take you somewhere that you can at the least be examined, from there you can try and trick me into letting you go without seeing a medical professional."
    His lip curves into a faint smirk, but then he adds, "But for now, it will at least be a place where you can collect your arguments and thoughts in your effort to convince me."
    And as he says that she can feel that gathering of arcane power around him. It is strange, in most magic she's witnessed it's a supplication of the sorcerer, a wish for the laws of reality to bend. But with him it feels like something different, as if his demand is a thing given to the world and it reacts to him not out of supplication and acquiescence, but fear.
    There is a twist in reality, like a sideshow funhouse mirror contorting reality...
    And then they are in a doctor's examination room, the lights out but the medical bed ready for a patient. He sets her down on that, then reaches over and flips on the light switch.

Wu has posed:
    "It's so unfair," Alice says, babbling a bit as her natural opiods take over the task of hiding her pain from her. "I have to beg for what you take as your right. And I have to give as much as or more than I receive." She then covers her mouth. "Oops. I'm not supposed to be doing that. That's how they killed Mom."
    She bears the ride in sullen silence thereafter, but once on the bed she struggles to sit up.
    "No really, I'll be fine," she says. "I took your advice on the shoulder. See the sling? See the brace? That's why my arm's mostly still fine even after that fun little dust-up."
    Adrenaline still seems to be flowing; or she's a junkie still working her fix.
    The only thing that's hurt is here." She cups her belly. "He took out the last charm and his claws actually scratched a bit. But I mean it's not even past the skin much. I can sew it up myself."
    Sew it up herself? W. T. F!?
    "No need to involve doctors."

Ares has posed:
    "You're an idiot." Dr. John's diagnosis is telling as he rests a hand upon her shoulder and urges her to lie back, his dark brown eyes holding hers, and despite the sharpness of those words... that smile half-smirk might rob them of some of their sting.
    "You have a wound that will require stitches. You're in Kensington, New York. At my vet's office." He then turns his gaze to her abdomen and reaches to draw her shirt up enough to bare the wound to his consideration. A frown marks his features then and he shakes his head, "Maintain pressure." He takes her uninjured arm and presses it palm down to the wound, showing her how much pressure needs to be used.
    Then he turns away to the cabinet behind him. He twists it open and starts to pull out what he needs; bandages, surgical stapler, wound cleanser, medical tape. But it's when he needs to get the local anesthetic that he has to twist the lock off a small container and grab the hypodermic from it.

Wu has posed:
    Alice obeys, but at the sight of the needle she pales. "NO NEEDLES!" she exclaims. "Just spray it or give me something to drink and then bite on. No needles."
    She mutters something about "why she hates doctors" and "accupuncture without the artisanship".
    "Look, I'm serious. Just sew it up. If you've got some of that spray stuff, that's fine. If not, booze. Strong stuff. And a sock or a belt or something."

Ares has posed:
    The tall man turns his head to the side and says, "You need a local anesthetic." He lets those words hang there as he eyes her sidelong, "If this has something to do with your magic I will accede to your wishes, but if this is perhaps simple medicine aversion I will be greatly disappointed with you, Ms. Gulliver."
    He watches her for her reaction to perhaps gauge the sincerity in her words. But then if she seems indeed to have strength of conviction behind her words he'll shake his head and begin tending to her. One way or the other... he'll pour the wound cleanser over her injury, and that will not be pleasant.

Wu has posed:
    "There's nothing simple," Alice pants, "about my aversion to those devilish things." Her eyes are staring at the harpoon-sized needle she's imagining in his hands. "Any psychiatrist will tell you that it's a complex."
    She laughs weakly at her own joke, then winces as her stomach muscles tighten.
    "Look, really, I don't need the needle. You've got the spray stuff, right? Spray that on. It burns at first, but then everything goes numb. You can go to town on me and I won't feel a thing."
    She winces, this time at her wording. "Not in that way," she says in a scolding tone of voice. "It won't hurt."
    Her brain is apparently turning to mush as the adrenaline fades.
    "You know what I mean!"

Ares has posed:
    "Hmm," John looks at her sidelong all over again, but then grimaces and turns around. He starts to look around the office, checking in the cupboards, opening drawers. He gets to another locked refrigerator and tears the lock off the front, pulling it open. A few topical sprays are found and he starts to read labels, drawing them our, perusing... then putting them back. "Here."
    That said he'll step back to her and urges her once again to lean back before he murmurs. "Just keep still."
    And that said he shakes up the spray, cracking open the top before applying it to her injured area. It definitely is cold, chilly like a burst of ice spreading over her abdomen. Then he sets it aside after reading about it further. "Should work in a few seconds." Lightly he touches the injured area, "Can you feel this?"
    And if it's taken he'll use that wound cleanser. For real this time.

Wu has posed:
    Alice's face twitches as the spray first hits her, but she relaxes quickly as it does its magic. At Ares' touch she shakes her head. "Nope. Can't feel it. Have fun."
    She looks around the medical bay as he works. "So ... why does a construction worker have a veterinarian office?" she asks jokingly. "Pretty strange hobby, wouldn't you say?"

Ares has posed:
    "Oh it's not 'mine'," His lip curls wryly as he then starts to unwrap the surgical stapler from its wrapper, discarding the plastic wrapping and setting it aside. "He sees to my dog at times. But will hopefully understand the extenuating circumstances as to this visit."
    That having been said he rests one hand upon her the edges of the wound to bring them closer together with precise pressure from his fingertips. The stapler, in his other hand, presses light against the flesh and there there's a faint click-clunk as it fires the instant suture into place. He looks to her for her reaction, then proceeds until the wound is closed.
    That done he'll get the cotton bandage and places it over the injured area, tearing off the tape with his teeth and then applying the strips.

Wu has posed:
    The reaction is a wince. Not of pain, but of anticipation. The actual stapling proceeds with only a small twitch, more at the pinching sensation deeper in than at the point of penetration.
    "So ... um ... who is 'he' then if 'you're' the one giving actual medical attention?" she asks, a little nervously. "I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but if you're who I think you are, you have a bit of a reputation. And ... uh ... paramed isn't it."

Ares has posed:
    "You think a man can go as long as I have, spent as much time in the combat zone as I have, and not picked up a thing or two about repairing some of the damage he has spent so much time meting out?" John looks towards her with a cocked eyebrow even as he finishes applying the tape, making sure it's set decenly. Then he steps back and rests a hand on the table to look to her, "But the vet who owns this office is a Dr. Reagan, he's a good man. Retiring soon I believe."
    Arms folding over his bare chest, John looks across the way to her, "I did not expect to see you again so soon." A glance as he smirks, "How's the shoulder?"

Wu has posed:
    "Inflamed rotator, bruised collarbone, several stretched tendons," Alice says with a sigh. "I got all that paired with the kind of long lecture that makes me never want to see doctors. You know, the counterproductive variety."
    She raises the arm, wincing a bit. "So now it's slung and in a brace. And I'm taking it easy."
    She says that last part without irony in her voice, but she bites her lip to suppress the grin.

Ares has posed:
    "You realize that part of me is tempted to leave you stranded on an island for a week just so you'll take the time needed to recover at least a little bit," But he keeps his arms folded over his chest as he leans there against the bed, shaking his head. "But with my luck chances are you'd conduct some elaborate ritual to help you get back that requires you to do a thousand push ups on your injured arm. And out of /pure/ spite you would do it."
    That having been said he gives her a nod, "You were successful, howeve. So kudos on that at the least."

Wu has posed:
    "It's what I do," Alice says with a tired sigh. "If I had both arms it'd have been done cleaner. That was clumsy. I went in prepared with the right stuff, but one-armed? That's hard. Especially with the extra charms I needed to protect the weakness."
    She eyes Ares. "I'm still insanely jealous. You got the world to do your bidding by threatening it. I have to cajole it. Sometimes offer it ... things. The costs can be very high."

Ares has posed:
    A small hmm comes from him as John tilts his head towards her, "My family, we each have our domain, our place of strength. You have your talent, and your abilities allow you to focus on other aspects of the world. For me, it will always be this, and only this." A hand lifts to the side gesturing, as if brushing away his only words. "What I have... cannot really be taught beyond perhaps what martial skills I could impart. But you seem no slouch in that regard."
    His lip curls as he remains standing there, "Though in the future, if you have the option, I would suggest you focus on your defensive spells."

Wu has posed:
    "My defensive spells were fine," Alice grouses. "I was missing half my offence. I had to defend for longer. They ran in short supply."
    She eyes Ares again. "You got pretty ... uh ... intense there." She struggles to sit up, twisting her face. "That pain spray is going away. This is going to start being unpleasant. If you've got booze, now's the time for it."
    She gets to her feet and sways a bit, but steadies quickly. "You do good work, Mr. Aaron. Or shall I call you Lord Ares?"
    She's good at the poker face thing. Hard to tell if she's yanking a chain now or not.
    "There's really no need for a professional to look at it. You saw how shallow the wound was. I've taken worse. Far worse."
    Poker face here too. Hard to see if she's lying or boasting or truthful.

Ares has posed:
    "John is fine," He says as he turns his back to her, starting to rummage around again and finding a small cardboard box of sample painkillers. He grabs a few packets and tears one open with his teeth, tapping out the two tablets and offering them to her, no water because she's clearly super tough. Then he offers her the rest, "Take these when it starts to flare up again. You should see a doctor in any case, but you're an adult, you can do what you like."
    He settles back at the end of the bed, resting his hip against it. "If you like I can take you somewhere for you to rest. Unless you can make it on your own from here."

Wu has posed:
    Alice takes the pills, dry, screwing up her face as they hit her tongue. "Booze tastes better," she mutters. "But thanks. And if you can drop me off just near where we left from, my home's a few blocks away. I can probably walk the rest of the way without too much trouble."
    A dark smile.
    "I think the underworld will have a few ... uh ... second thoughts about messing with me for a while."
    There's a long pause as she regards Ares with her black eyes.
    "You're the god of war, right?" she asks finally. "The other one. The brutal one. Again, please don't be offended, but ... why so nice? That is not your reputation in the slightest."

Ares has posed:
    At first he nods in agreement with her wishes, but then she takes a moment to ask him of himself. And that... has him furrowing his brow as he looks to the side. He looks back to her and smiles a bit, perhaps putting her off, or perhaps offering her a chance on the future to learn what she wishes as he says, "Ask me again another time, perhaps over drinks. It's a long story."
    He pushes off of the edge of the medical bed, extending his hand towards her. "I'll take you back to the Rustic Kitchen, it's a few blocks away. Will that work for you?"

Wu has posed:
    "It works. I mean if you did strand me on an island I would have ways to escape. But they'd involve blood. I'd have to undo all that nice work you did and..." A half-lidded smile of private amusement.
    "Thank you, however, Mr. Aaron. John. It was good to have someone at my back. Usually I do this kind of thing without the masses present, but that creature was very careful not to be alone. It needed ... expulsion, however, so I couldn't wait. It was too dangerous."