|Ashur|| It's only morning, but the alcohol has spread through the outlaw town like wildfire, and the base aggression of the n'er-do-wells has found its outlet amongst the thunder-clamoring crowds. All manner of brute and thug and businessman alike gather to watch-- some crowd around circles of paint, and others sit and cheer in a set of scavenged highschool bleachers propped against a corner. The booze and the blood flow freely, all to the jingle of traded caps.
The Legion is not popular in Jack's Town, for obvious reasons-- they had a spot of trouble with it before. And while the lumbering Ashur may not be Legion per se, he's close enough to rub a lot of folks wrong; it's only the laws of the town that keep some from trying to start trouble with him. He's sent nasty looks by brave men and coward men alike.
And he's lingering near one of the circles, exchanging a few brief words with a pre-War-suited announcer fella. Seems he wants to fight.
|Kurokumo Mibojin||Most days, Kurokumo is content with taking care of herself, and minding her own business. However, tangling with people has a tendency to complicate things. She's come to Jack's place, trying to track down the man who has muddled her thoughts and inflamed her senses. Shifting through the crowd, she spots him easily, considering his height compared to the rest of the crowd.|
|Celeste|| The crowd's a rough one, that's for sure, and filled with enough ruckus to create a hum of voices just outside the building. That sound attracts a certain crowd, but other curious sorts may stop in for a visit, too. It's what Celeste is doing as she slowly enters the establishment, trying her best not to make eye contact with many. Never know if you'd be tossed into the ring next, and she doesn't care to find out.
The blonde, though a bit out of her element, is at least dressed for the occasion, so she blends in well. Her blonde hair is swept into a bun atop her head and a handkercheif is wrapped around it, keeping it gathered and off her shoulders. A dark grey shirt covers her top, followed by an old leather jacket. Simple jeals and her boots finish her look, which has tried to be a little rougher than she might usually dress (for those who know her). She tries to move with confident steps and in a 'don't mess with me' sort of way as she heads off to the side to try and find a good spot to watch from. She lingers near the side, just out of the way where she has a good view.
|Ashur|| "The desert deserter, slayer of the Profligate and abandoner of Caesar," booms the reedy man in the old world suit, and Ashur grits his teeth when he uses the soft 'C' instead of the hard, "has come to make a name and test the mettle of our home! Who will stand against this giant soldier?"
The Legion might not have many friends, but it is the perfect organization to play the heel in theatric shows.
Ashur begins to strip. His patchwork-repaired helmet is discarded; his Roman armor is removed. He's stripped down to little more than a tribal thong, and even his brass knuckles have been removed, set down in a pile with his equipment. At the end of it, the announcer slides up next to him, nudges him, and tilts his head toward the cloak. Ashur rolls his eyes, but..
When the preparations are complete, there he stands in the largest of the circles-- Ashur, barefooted, a towering brute thick with muscle and hair and a complete lack of modesty... wearing a long red cloak, thin and tattered, curling around him with a golden bull.
Muscle, cloak, thong. Could be out of a movie. The announcer keeps speaking, as a hamfisted roughneck walks up with a swagger, adjusting his beer-gut.
|Kurokumo Mibojin||Huffing at the introduction, Kurokuom tries to get a closer place to the ring before the two tear each other to pieces. Her short black hair is nothing special, clothing modest compared to those dressed to the nines in colorful dresses and forgotten heels. Her expression is tense, brown eyes trained upon the former Legionaire as the crowd shows it's hatred and hunger in jeers and betting.|
|Celeste|| Her dark eyes shift towards the ring when someone finally steps into it, and gee wiz! It's none other than Ashur. "Deathclaw, my ass," Celeste murmurs under her breath, following it with a soft chuckle. The blonde crosses her arms over her chest as she leans into the wall, keeping her eyes on the man as he is essentially stripped to the bare minimum.. Hey, they should have vip seating for ladies in front! Gotta love some eye candy.
As the announcer finds someone else to fight Ashur, Celeste gives him a brief look and starts to laugh, but she quickly covers it with a gentle cough and a clearing of her throat. She doesn't have to say much. It's clear on her face she thinks this fight has already been won. But still.. She'll place a few caps in betting Ashur will win.
|Ashur|| "Yer shit Legion burned my brother's farm down out in Arizona," the beer-gut man says, and through the drunken bravado there's a sincere, acidic wrath dripping from every slurred word. "Took his wife, took his little girl. I ain't seen either of 'em in years. So tell me, ya big bastard, whatcha think happened?"
"They were enslaved and used for labor," Ashur replies, and he meets anger with superior disdain. "And if they were obedient, and healthy, used as breedingstock for new soldiers. If they resisted, they were put to the cross."
The utter lack of sympathy enrages the man; he screams bloody murder and barrels over the painted line and charges Ashur, red-faced. He swings up at his face in a wild, open, telegraphed blow. Ashur should be able to avoid it.
It busts the Legionnaire's mouth, cutting his lip and making him spit blood.
"And it is ON!" declares the announcer, as money trades hands.
|Kurokumo Mibojin||Kurokumo had come here looking for Ashur, looking for answers. The questions she had die on her tongue, as he goes into detail about Legion tactics. Despite no longer being a part of them, does he still follow that mindset? What was he really aiming for that unexpected morning? Kurokumo winces, as the work she put into sewing up his eye is precariously close to being undone.|
|Celeste||Size is a good enough indicator for who might win, but the other man has anger to fuel him. For a moment it brings a puzzled look to Celeste's face. Who will win? Her gaze darts between the two as she leans there against the wall, watching them with rapt attention. The crowd cheers and belts out slurs and other cries while some occupants whistle and heckle both men. Celeste keeps quiet, staying out of it.|
|Ashur|| "Ya fuckin' cunt! They were good people!" The heavyset man's fists smash into Ashur's beefy abs again and again with a strength borne of grief. Even the worst sorts of people in this world have loved ones, after all-- that the man's a thug doesn't mean he had no one. Body blow after body blow, and the drunk's march forward slow pushes the golden-skinned tribal back against the paint circle's interior edge. "I've done my share of evil, and I got it coming when it comes, but my brother was better."
"They were good people," Ashur agrees, rolling back on a heel and almost falling into the crowd hemming in on them both; they give him a jeer and a shove forward so he rights himself. As he's coming up, he hawks a loogie, a mass of bloodied phlegm pulled from his throat, and spits it into the other's face; it blinds him and disorients him in a brief moment of grossness.
Ashur smashes his skull into the man's face, caving a handful of the small bones in on each other.
|Kurokumo Mibojin||The Doctor's heart melts at Ashur's words, her expectations torn as he admits that. How can you understand both sides? How does he do it, of all people? Kurokumo becomes one of the mob, anger burning bright as she calls out from the crowd. "YOU WIN OR YOU DON'T COME HOME!" The Japanese American woman is almost frothing at the mouth as she screams at the hulking brute.|
|Celeste||And there it is; a perfect painting of the world they live in. Good and bad, and both sides able to feel pain and love. Celeste finds herself frowning as she hears the man's pain in his words, and for a moment she looks at Ashur with something different in her gaze. Was he really that terrible? Was he a changed man? She looks away briefly then, glancing over the crowd to watch them and see how they react. In doing so she notices the woman who yells, and she watches her for a moment. Her eyes squint slightly, and as a tiny smirk emerges she looks back to Ashur just in time.. Holy shit, man! Celeste winces, gasping faintly as her hands yank up to cover her eyes for a split second.|
|Ashur|| The impact sounds a sickening crunch and a garbled cry of pain-- and a heady mix of cheers and insults from the crowd. The phlegm sticks to his face, a red-slick slime glistening in the hanging, dim lights.. and now joined by a stream of blood from his nostrils, which are set at a queer angle given the bridge of his nose is no longer where it should be. "You broke my nose!" He says, the shock of it almost sobering him up. "You sunuva--"
SMACK. An open-handed blow across his cheek, sending him stumbling to the side.
"I'll--" Ashur smacks him again, from the other direction.
Yeah, you guessed what happened next.
After three of them, the man's humiliated. He pants like a dog left out in the sun. It's a mercy when Ashur's fist crushes into his solar plexus, a solid smash that starts at his hip and drives forward with one practiced motion. There's a grace in combat to the tribal's movements that seems missing outside of it.
The man's diaphragm spasms. The wind is knocked out of him and he falls to his knees. He wraps his arms around himself and doubles over, coughing, and looks up at Ashur.
He barely sees the man's heel before it comes down on his head and knocks him out cold.
The sheer brutality of that encounter has.. quieted some of the crowd. Drunken brawls are one thing. Ashur's training is military and cruel. He walks out of the circle.. and the announcer starts up a cacophony of sound.
His passage brings him nearer Kumo and Celeste.
|Kurokumo Mibojin||Kurokumo's breath is heaving, the earlier screams having died down as the crowd is stunned. She just...encouraged Ashur to do that. Beat the man into a bloody mess. Oddly enough, there is a wave of euphoria in her chest as he has defeated his opponent. She's real fucked up in the head, it seems. Gathering her wits, Kurokumo hurredly makes her way to him.|
|Celeste||Brows lift slightly, brought closer together as Celeste watches the brutal way Ashur beats this man to.. death? Near-death? Is he even breathing at this point? She looks away again, small frown tucked away. As she glances up to notice the man is exiting the ring and nearing her position she turns, quickly slipping back into the crowd, disappearing behind a chain-linked fence that's being used to help guide people where to go. She doesn't even think to go collect any winnings on the bet she placed.|
|Ashur|| Ashur is feral as he stalks out of the ring-- hands balled into killing fists, hunched forward. There's Kurokumo. She's making her way toward him.
He grabs a fistful of her shirt, pulls her to him, pivots on a heel, and shoves her up against the wall near a trio of hecklers who -- hypocritically -- just collected their prize money from betting on him.
His teeth latch onto her neck, her shoulder, and he bites like a wild animal, inhales her scent, sucks hard on the skin, and with a growl seizes a breast through the fabric.
When he releases her, it's with a bloodied lovemark left on her skin-- though the blood is his, not hers.
"Good girl," he praises, and as one of the swinging lights up above dangles on a wire, his shadow alternately lengthens and shrinks, assuming an animalistic aspect across the floor. "I need to.. clear my head."
Indeed, it's hard to think over the wolf whistles, the crowding belligerents who seem to want to pick a fight, the cheerers-- violence makes this crowd sing.