7365/Riot Girl

Riot Girl
Date of Scene:	30 April 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Wolverine, Crush

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Wolverine has posed:
    There's nothing like the smell of fight night in Macready's. It's the melange of sweat, blood, sawdust, smoke, and steel. Each odor layered upon the other with which one taking dominance depending on how close one gets to the ring. The place has a reputation for turning six figures now and again for fighters on the right night with the right crowd and challengers. But despite the high amount of gambling done in the place it seems like the owners haven't put a dime back into their venue.
    Macready's is a place that's been the home of wild matches for the last fifty years. Broken bones are common, and a handful of fighters have even lost their lives there, though the local sheriff is on the take. Outside it looks like your standard honky tonk trucker stop that only makes its bills by the crowd it entertains on the weekends. But if people actually stop into the place, and step through all the sawdust and broken peanut shells on the floor, make it to the back room/warehouse area... they'll see that the place is in no danger of going out of business.
    Past that bar and juke box area, behind closed doors, the storage area's been converted into a hodge-podge of stadium seating mixed with tables on the floor around the chicken wire cage. Old wood was used in the construction of the infrastructure, to build the ring, the seating. Some of it's started to wear down and what repairs have been given have been a new board slapped into place with a few nails.
    Usually things are hectic and crazed at the best of times, what with the open challenges allowed where the last man standing gets the purse. Tonight though, tonight things are open since some out of towners have been let in and everyone, especially the locals, are feeling their oats. The crowd's loud, the drink is flowing, and the violence... the violence is abundant.

Crush has posed:
Crush has come to feel at home in places like this. She never fit right in the world anyway, with her soft-hearted parents trying to make a good person out of her. She wasn't built for it and it didn't go down that way. Her violent urges needed release, her anger needed a focus. She needed to have some god damn fun. And now she was. And they were dead, although not by her hands, no, she'd find them someday, the ones who did it, but in the m eantime, she'd tear apart whatever was in front of her and enjoy the rush it gave when she made them break.

She's in a sleeveless leather vest and tank top, her hair shaved on the sides and spiked on the top. She's not old enough to drink, but nobody's checking her ID as she throws back a long swig from a tankard of beer and cracks her knuckles, leaning against the bar and waiting for her turn to fight. She's new blood around here, still, but it isn't hard to see she's got some serious muscle to back up that attitude.

Wolverine has posed:
    When she'd made her first meet and greet with management, she was scoffed at. Mac, the eighty year old proprietor, had sneered at her openly and said to her, "This ain't somethin' you wanna be doin', girl." His voice had a raspiness to it, "This ain't no Tae Bo class, if you think you can hang with my boys, you got some provin' ta do." He eyed her tall frame, considering the clear muscularity. It was possible... but it'd take some testing.
    But she had proved him wrong. Proved herself in the closed door audition that left a few of Mac's enforcers still dozin' in various states of disarray. It had bought what she wanted, though. Opening fight, matched up against one of their biggest mugs who has no intention of letting her get past him.
    Across the way under the halogen lights, Bubba stands there in his corner, punching his fists into each other as he glares daggers at Crush. It's clear he's got a mad on, the way he blazes hate straight at her with his eyes.
    And the crowd is loving it. Already bets are being pushed back and forth, voices loud. Hard to hear anything beyond the roar save for the faint musical trill of a country song in the background. A man in a jean jacket steps out into the ring and shoots a look towards Bubba, then a look towards Crush. "You ready?"
    He looks towards Bubba. "You ready?"
    Once they both nod he lifts a hand and slashes down as he says sharply with a twang, "Let's geet it ohn!"

Crush has posed:
Crush didn't mind working her way up. Fighting was fun and she didn't much mind scruffy company. She kept most of them at arm's length, though, not getting close to anybody, just coming in, doing what she needed to do and keeping her cash. If she partied, she did it with strangers and usually somewhere else.

She raises a hand in invitation to Bubba, grinning her wolfish grin, black-painted lips contrasting sharply against the bright white of her canines, "C'mon, redneck, come get you some," she grins, waiting for him to try and get on her before she pivotes and shifts to drive a knee up into his gut.

Wolverine has posed:
    The crowd's cheering, just that steady roaring drone even as the fighters move towards each other. Bubba grins back at her, gap-toothed but wicked as they stomp across the jouncing canvas matwork. He's got on a pair of fingerless leather gloves and a pair of jeans with some boots. But that's it. Definitely not a looker, but he doesn't give a damn so long as he gets to bust some heads.
    So when Crush steps on out there he greets her with a wild wicked haymaker meant to put paid to her right off, for daring to even get in the ring with him. It's faster than she might expect, and rushes at the side of her head viciously, only for her to shift and lean to the side, hammering a knee heavy into his abdomen.
    She'll feel the shock of the impact jounce up her leg as she gets that solid hit. For an instant his eyes go /wide/ as he curls up and around the impact, staggering a back as abruptly his liquor threatens to come back up. But he recovers after a moment, shaking his head and scowling as he wipes a forearm over his lips.
    The next instant he's charging back in, trying to grab hold of her with one hand so she can't juke his next hits.
    Crush stands out in this crowd, that's for sure. But assuredly nobody here really caught her notice. Macready himself maybe? And then again there was that haggard looking guy who was sitting on the edge of the bar, drinking peacefully. Everyone gave him a wide berth when she first came in. But now... she'll see he's watching her and her fight.

Crush has posed:
Crush doesn't need to juke, more than capable of taking any punishment Bubba might be interested in dishing out. She lets him hit her a few times, his meaty fists smacking against her face, smashing into her ribs. The only things likely to break are his knuckles.

Once satisfied that he's getting the picture, she brings her hand up and grabs the back of his skull, yanking him in to meet the kiss of a sharp headbutt, his forehead bouncing against hers with a sort of hollow coconut sound that will give him an instantaneous concussion and likely stagger him quickly.

"Maybe you should make sure you can back it up before you talk shit, huh?"

Wolverine has posed:
    Bubba might not be the brightest lightbulb, but he's tenacious. Even as he hits Crush hard on the jaw, in the gut, and then tries even a shot at her throat, it leaves him a bit stunned even before the headbutt. But when she connects hard with his skull and his is the only one that seems to be hurting, he reels back and staggers a step, two, goes down to one knee.
    Quickly he shakes his head and grimaces even as the crowd hooowls at his failure to even make it look like a fight. Some sharp words are hurled his way,
    "The hell is your problem, loser!"
    "Get the hell outta the ring and let someone who knows how to fight get in there!"
    "You friggin' bum!"
    Hardly the worst of it, but more of the same is hurled at the guy even as he shakes his head and tries to get his brain cleared. One hand reaches out to try and keep her at a distance, then he swings a quick uppercut to try and at least get some of his own back.

Crush has posed:
Crush might feel sorry for him, if she were much inclined to that sort of thing. Of course, she's not. The closest thing he'll get to mercy from Crush is to finish him off. His blow cracks her skull, but doesn't seem to slow her as she steps into his body and clamps her hand around his throat, hefting him from the ground and hurling him down to the canvas. In pro wrestling, a chokeslam is a cooperative move, where the 'victim' plays along and jumps. This isn't that and so it's uglier and more vicious, his girth hefted in the air and then spiked down on the back of his neck.

She puts her boot on his chest and declares herself victorious, daring him to disagree.

Wolverine has posed:
    The crowd roars, some are laughing uproariously at Bubba's expense even as money changes hands. People shaking their heads, drinking, but some are yelling out Crush's name pumping fists into the air.
    Eventually when she removes her boot from his chest, Bubba's trainer reclaims him and then the referee in the jean jacket slips through the hole in the fence. He takes a second to grin to the crowd and grab's Crush's wrist to try and lift her arm up into the air in victory, unless she stops him from doing so. More cheering, more laughing.
    But then the ref turns back and tells her, "Next time make it look like it's closer, babydoll. Too quick, less booze gets sold, less bets get placed. Take it from me." And with that he gives her the first pay out, giving her a wad of bills and then stepping back, gesturing to her again for the crowd to cheer.
    Of course that one man at the bar isn't exactly cheering. Oh he's smiling. Maybe smirking. But he's shaking his head and turning back to the bar, lifting a hand to order another bottle.

Crush has posed:
Crush grins as she counts her cash, "Yeah, but there'll be a lot more of 'em next time 'cause o' how I squashed his fat ass this time," she says. "Word'll get around. They'll wanna see me fight again," she says.

She steps out of the ring and hops down the stairs, making her way towards the bar, "Whiskey, beer chaser," she says, slapping a couple of bills down and stuffing the rest down her cleavage. She looks down the bar to the roughneck who'd been watching her closely, "You scoutin' or just oglin'?"

Wolverine has posed:
    The weathered looking man's been drinking whiskey, not quite top shelf but not exactly rotgut either. He's got the bottle in front of him, tilted over on its side for the moment as he lets the liquor trickle into his glass. He sets the bottle back down and it makes a nice glassy clink.
    Over there at the bar things are quieter. The steady white noise of the crowd is omni-present, but without a fight going on now it's calmed down to a low rumble, letting the music take prominence once again.
    The man tilts his head, blue eyes meeting her red ones as he gives her a once over. Not quite the way a man looks at a woman, more one fighter considers another. "Congrats on the win." He says at last, lifting his glass as if saluting her and then tilting it back to down his shot. He starts to refill it again. Looks like he's been at it for a while, but weirdly enough it doesn't seem to be phasing him.

Crush has posed:
Crush shrugs, not sure what's going on with the dude exactly, but not in the mood to ruin her good mood by stressing about it. "Thanks, bro," she said, taking a quick shot of whiskey and then chucking half a bottle of amber ale to help wash it down.

"You gonna be in there later? You kinda got the cagefightin' look. A little scungy, a little hairy. Smells like booze. Not that I can judge."

Wolverine has posed:
    "Ehn," He looks up and tilts his head towards the cage. And for a moment, just a brief moment, she might see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, aided by the curve of a half-smile. But it's there only a moment, then gone. He looks back to her and says levelly. "Used ta."
    He waves at the bartender as the man tends to a few orders nearby. A gesture is made towards Crush and the tender nods, grabbing another bottle of whiskey and sliding it down the bar to end up near the Czarnian.
    "Back in my wild youth." His lip twists upwards a little further, but then he extends a hand towards her and says simply, "Logan."

Crush has posed:
Crush takes the hand, her grip measured. She's not showing off, but she's not holding back either, just a simple squeeze. "Crush," she says, "Yeah, I got another name, but I ain't in the mood to be googled by strange dudes at bars," she says.

She draws out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a long drag, "I'm in my wild youth now, so I guess lookin' at you is sorta lookin' at my future, only I have better knockers."

Wolverine has posed:
    "Mmm," Is what passes for Logan's answer at first. But then he takes her hand and she'll feel the steady firmness of it. Like a quiet confidence that even as she exerts herself she doesn't feel that traditional give when she's tensed her grip and brought other men to their knees. No aggression to it, just enduring the hold and then after two shakes he draws back.
    "Yeah, somethin' about you." He mirrors her movements as he reaches into his leather jacket and withdraws a cigar and then extends it towards her as she already has her lighter out, half-smiling a little at the reversal of traditional roles in that exchange. "Does indeed remind me of me."
    "Would go inta the ring, and want guys ta rethink their entire career decision after a few rounds with me." He waves a hand to the side, "Then again, mebbe I'm readin' ya wrong."

Crush has posed:
Crush shakes her head, "Nah, sounds about right. I could beat the shit out of most o' these lardasses without breaking a sweat. I could fight most of 'em all at once. But people pay if you put on a show," she shrugs, "And I like fighting. So I play with my food a little bit. Shark still gets to eat, either way," she grins.

She puffs on her smoke, "I bet you'd gimme a run, though. More'n meets the eye and all that bull. I just get blown off cause I'm a chick, so they don't think I gotta chance. Which is stone dumb, have you seen these guns?" she says, giving a flex.

Wolverine has posed:
    For a moment he does eyeball one of the 'guns' and heaves a small smirk as he tilts back his drink and downs it. The cigar stays in the corner of his mouth for the most part, just sort of at home there and moving at times as he makes a comment or two. "Maybe. Old age and treachery..." He starts on that Mamet quote, but then waves it off.
    "In any case. What would we have ta fight about?" He frowns for a moment as he tilts his bottle over and it seems he's killed it, not a single drop flows out of it and instead he's left scowling at the lip of it, then shaking his head.
    Without even so much as a by your leave he reaches over to the whiskey bottle he had at first bought for her and claims at least one pour of it, tilting it on its side with a faint gurgle coming from it. "Asides, most dangerous people I know happen ta be gals."

Crush has posed:
Crush shrugs, "I never really needed a lot of reasons. Sometimes it's just fun to do. But yeah, I got no beef with you, you got no beef with me," she says. She finishes off her beer, rapping on the bar to order another one.

"Girls are dangerous cause dudes don't expect it. And because we're meaner. And we can take more pain. And we hold grudges."

Wolverine has posed:
    "Well," Logan turns around to look at the ring as some of the other fighters seem to be gathering around it, probably preparing for the next fight. That guy in the jean jacket is talking to Bubba's trainer and occasionally pointing in Crush's direction, even shrugging a few times.
    But whatever that is, it doesn't turn into anything yet. So Logan turns to the side and says to her, "You might think that's the way it is fer now and all. But you move up, start matchin' yerself against some guys who aren't quite the same as the chuckleheads here, you'll see that the whole gender thing don't get you much mileage."
    He looks down at his glass and swirls it a few times then kicks it back for another drink. Afterwards he adds, "Start fightin' guys who know what they're doin' might be a different story."

Crush has posed:
Crush shrugs, "Maybe. I kinda hope so. It'll get boring otherwise. I do hate bein' bored," she says, kicking her feet up on an empty chair nearby and leang back into the bar.

"Anyway, fighting guys better will only make me better. And I'm already...like...mostly better. So, nowhere to go but up," she says. "I dunno. I ain't gonna stress about it much."

Wolverine has posed:
    "Yeah," Logan says as he settles with his back against the bar, the two of them looking like quite the pair as they lounge there while all the rest of the people are focused on the new contestants going up to the ring. "If this is all yer gonna do, no need ta rush it."
    He lifts a finger to rub at the bridge of his nose thoughtfully and then eyes her sidelong. "But if yer aimin' ta do somethin' with yer life... might wanna keep an eye out. Just in case."
    His smirk returns as he adds, "But yer still just a kid, you got time."