3663/Bars and Bad Ideas

Bars and Bad Ideas
Date of Scene:	16 January 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Redstar, Feral

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Redstar has posed:
Mondays aren't usually all that busy. Oh sure, the usuals are in the bar, but it isn't packed. Except the establishment has decided to try and fix that. Tonight pit fights are set and warm-up matches have drawn a small crowd. The meaty thwack of fists and legs impacting other bodies is overwhelmed by cheers and jeers from the crowd around the make-shift cage.

Perched on the end on the bar, wings folded as tightly as they'll go, is Starr. She watches the fight from afar as she sips from a bottle. An older gentleman, dressed in gray and black, is trying to flirt with her to little effect.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that," The fellow says, reaching out to wrap take her hand. It is not his best idea and there is a flash of brilliant molten light and then he is gripping a hand that is blackened and crispy, screaming on the floor. "Don't. Touch. Me," She says without even looking at the man. This isn't the first time someone's tried to place a hand on Starr in this bar and found themselves very bad off for it.

"Damnit, Starr, stop maiming my customers!" The bartender yells at her, throwing his towel down on the bad. She looks away from the fights with a smirk on her face and looking unphased by the anger in his eyes.
    "Then put up a warning sign. Touch at your own risk. They're fault," She says with a vague wave of her hand. One of the bouncers gathers up the fellow, clearly in shock, and removes him. Maybe to help, maybe just to get rid of, but he is gone and Starr takes another sip of her unlabelled brown bottle.

Feral has posed:
    Down below, the latest fight reaches its climax with a flash of red and two loud thuds as a pair of large, ogre-like brawlers are slammed against the pit's unforgiving wall, stacked one upon the other like pancakes. With her bare foot pinned against the top man's chest, a thickly-muscled and wild-haired woman leans forward with a hungry smile as she props her hand on her bent knee, forcing her weight into the pair. The fight was a free-for-all a few moments ago...

    "That's all you two have?" she chides before her arm snaps back up to stop a wide punch dead in its tracks. The sheer force flicks the loose ends of her tanktop backwards and blows against her hair. "Nice power, zadrota, but like this you two are only door mats to wipe my feet. Hmph!"
    Without waiting for any declaration, the Russian eases her weight back and springs hard off her planted leg, vaulting the pair and landing just overhead on the upper edge of the pit. "<Only trash today>," she grumbles in her native tongue as her sharp, hawkish gaze peers towards the bar through blue-blocker glasses.

Redstar has posed:
"I like her," Starr comments to the barman who is still giving her an annoyed look. He glances to the cage and smirks, "Yeah. Vicious ain't she?" He asks in his Yorker drawl. The red-haired woman nods and slides from her stool, flashing him two fingers as she does, and is rewarded with two more bottles. She takes one in each hand and strides towards the cage.
    The crowd is certainly happy. But this kind of crowd loves blood, even if they went down fast. Taking a drink from the one bottle she holds the other casually at her side, eyeing the feral Vanya prowling the top of the cage. "Nice moves," She calls upwards before raising the second bottle, waggling it invitingly. "Drink?"

Feral has posed:
    Vanya's gaze falls to Starr as the mutant approaches. Shined by sweat and speckled by the blood of others, there's a feeling much like entering a lion's den from drawing so close. From the way her hands hang half-open as if bearing claws, the ready crouch that has her toes gripping the bars, and despite them both the slightly back-leaning posture that's held stiff and straight, the brawler's body emanates something altogether more primal and visceral than a sport fighter.
    Both the Russian's eyebrows raise in interest and just like that, a half step drops her from her perch and lands her in front of the winged young woman. Giving her tattered pants a sharp flick to straighten them, Vanya smiles with an easy amusement before she snatches the offered bottle and knocks it back for a short swig.

Redstar has posed:
Starr seems pleased by the response and watches the way the other woman moves with keen interest. A predator sizing up another, though not in a challenging way. "It's the bartender's home brew. Better than anything in stores," Starr says after taking a swig of her own. "You're vicious. I'm Starr," She doesn't hold out a hand or anything as such, Predators don't shake hands usually. Her wings, however, lift and spread slightly behind her. A display of her own, however subtle and subconscious, making her appears larger and dangerous.
    "When is your next match?" She asks as she leans against the cage with her right shoulder. Her red eyes rove up and down Vanya's well-muscled form. That little, hungry, and interested smile hasn't changed or left her lips the entire time. "I think placing a bet on a sure thing might be a very good idea."

Feral has posed:
    Vanya dips her bottle and sighs in relish as the bitter burn soothes her parched throat. "Feral. That is what they like to call me, at least," she corrects as her weight shifts lazily to her back leg, letting the front one bend and set her just a little lopsided - a display of her own, still amused and unthreatened, and indeed the bestial brawler's demeanor and dress hide little from Starr's roving gaze. There's no glimmer of magic or subtle trick; only raw, sculpted sinew - testosterone squeezed into a lither frame.
    "Here? Maybe ten minutes, maybe next week. If all that are left tonight are rodents, I've had my fill." There's a mild but not oppressive Slavic growl to the woman's words as she speaks; her mouth is used to harsher sounds. "And what..." she starts as her eyes slide slowly along the leathery wing before returning to magma-red eyes, "Are you?"

Redstar has posed:
Starr endures that probing gaze with a relaxed smirk. "What am I? A very fine question indeed," She says, her voice low and with a bit of a sensual rumble. She takes a pull off the bottle and watches the cage be cleaned up for the next warm-up match. "MMmm...Well, I'm not normal. These," The wings spread and lifts, a couple of people changing their path to avoid the leathery blockade. "Grew about four years ago now. Most painful thing we've ever been through," She adds as she crinkles her nose in distaste. "So all signs point to mutant."

Feral has posed:
    Vanya's smile widens approvingly at the show of wings but something else pricks her ear. "We?" she echoes, her accented voice dropping to a rolling baritone, like the purr of a big cat.

Redstar has posed:
"It's something I'm trying out when talking about certain things. Let's see...easiest way to put it is that I share this body with another soul. We've both been here since the beginning, but the other is the one who has controlled most of our life until recently," Starr says, pursing her lips thoughtfull before speaking. "So occasionally the best way to describe or talk about something is with the royal 'we'," She smirks before snapping her wings closed. A sound similar to leather strips being smacked together coming from them. "And what about you? I hear an accent, but can't place it."

Feral has posed:
    Vanya cocks her head curiously as she listens then sweeps her gaze across Starr anew. "That sounds crowded."
    "Ya russkiy," she answers directly. "Ili... tochneye, sovetskiy. I'm Russian."

Redstar has posed:
Starr sighs and nods in agreement, "It is," She says in reply to the crowded comment. Her eyes roll and she takes a smaller sip from her bottle. One brow raises and she nods, "Sounded like it. But I've gotten accents wrong before and people can be...sensitive," The word is almost an insult though not directed at Vanya.

Feral has posed:
    The Russian shrugs casually as she tips her own drink back, settling easily into the conversation. "You're lucky I can speak English."

Redstar has posed:
"Hah!" Starr says clearly amused by that statement. "There was a Russian guy whose room was next to ours at the institute. When he talked it was half in English and half in Russian. I can't say I know the language, but I can swear in it," She says and does just that. A nice string of explatives usually old men in dive bars would use. "But that's about it. Always thought it was a neat sounding language, buuuuut no chance to learn."

Feral has posed:
    Vanya grabs the cage beside her as she doubles forward laughing, shaking her shoulders with mirth. It's a bold, barking sound that fades into tickled and very Slavic murmuring by the time she straightens back up. The brawler's smile is now wide enough to show a faintly pointed set of canines.
    "You talk like a drunk sailor. I understood a little more than half of that. If you need lessons," Vanya smirks giving her beer a little shake, "maybe you can barter for it - have you talking like babushka."

Redstar has posed:
Starr grins as she watches Vanya laugh and triumphantly sips from her bottle. "Mmmm, maybe, maybe. I'd want to learn to speak the real stuff anyway, not classroom slop. Not that I will likely ever go to Russia, but you never know. It's still an awesome language and you sound bad ass when you speak it," It's the truth after all. "Oh-ho, look at this guy," A guy about 6'6" and disfigured from muscle walks into the cage to hoots, howls, and cheers. After him follows a petite little slip of a girl.
    "Anything goes in this round, ladies, gentleman, and others! Just keep it to inside the ring. You pay collaterol out of your winnings and hide," The Pit announcer says over the audio system. "On my right we have Conan. Yes, our muscle bound friend likens himself to that fantasy hero portrayed by California's former governor! Let's hear it for CO-NAAAAN!" There is appropriate cheering. "Aaaaaand on my left we have," There's a pause as she leans in to whisper to him, "SeeeeeenSAAAAAtion! You two know the rules. Only one, keep it in the ring and don't kill each other if you can help it. Too messy," Then the announced leaves the ring and the cage door is closed. The bell chimes and Conan begins trying to get his hand on the tiny woman, who slips through and around him easily.

Feral has posed:
    "With those wings?" Vanya appraises skeptically. "Bring a fishing net and you can fly there." As Starr's attention is drawn away, the brawler follows it, surveying the latest round with a mild boredom and leaving half her mind on the younger woman beside her.
    "Hmph, this won't be any funny," she mutters.

Redstar has posed:
"Maybe," Starr says as she crosses her arms and leans to watch the petite blond do circles around Conan. "I try to not judge by size. That is a sure way to find yourself flat on your back. Our martial arts instructor showed us that," She says, eyes on the match.

People start laughing which just seems to make the muscle-bound guy angry. When he punches and misses it makes a huge dent in the metal cage. But he does miss and Sensation pats him on his bare back as she slides around behind him. A sort of, 'there there' gesture that only serves to infuriate the barbarian further. This time he does managed to get her, by the hair, dragging her back to him kicking but not screaming.

Feral has posed:
    "Size matters but if you're too dumb to use it - no point," Vanya affirms. "Cute, but just more dancing."
    "What institute is this that has martial arts?" she asks, looking back at Starr curiously in disregard of the petite fighter's plight.

Redstar has posed:
Conan lifts Sensation up by her hair, his hand big enough to encompass her skull, and brings her face up even with his. He grins at her as she grabs his hand, face still calm if a little annoyed. Conan laughs and then stops laughing. First he drops Sensation, who lands with grace and poise, and then he sways before slowly toppling over. When he hits the map his eyes have rolled up in his head and his mouth hangs open. "Well what do we have here, folks? I certainly did not see this coming!" The announcer says as people are quiet in stunned amazement.
    "Dancing can be fun if you're doing it right. And Conan there needed to learn some humility. I think she taught him that," Starr says with a laugh, finishing her beer. "MMmm...where? It was out in Conneticut. They taught mixed martial arts. A bit of akido, a bit of kenpo, some kung fu..." Then there is the sound similar to a lightsaber being activated from her fanny pack, which also vibrates slightly. Starr raises a brow and opens the pouch to pull out a phone, swiping her thumb through the pin and peering at the message. "Mmmm...I'm sorry. I have to go," She says in sudden seriousness. "Hope you stick around. I'd like to see you fight an actual challenge." She pushes away from the cage and stretches languidly. "I've got to see a man about a job. Hah! Me, a job." And she waves at Vanya. "I'm usually here Mondays..." And then she turns her back on the slavic savage and heads for the exit.

Feral has posed:
    With barely half an eye on the fight, Vanya nods to Starr. "Hmm?" she blurts, turning fully and lifting her beer at the otherworldly ringtone. "<That's too bad,>" she grouses in her native tongue as the winged woman turns to leave. a cocky, playful smile will follow her out. "I was almost having fun... if they can bring me a good challenge here, maybe you will."