Derby Downer

Participants:

delilah_icon.gif quinn4_icon.gif

cameos by

elle_icon.gif hortense_icon.gif

Scene Title Derby Downer
Synopsis An evening at the derby turns sour and bloody- moreso than usual; at the last moment, Quinn is able to turn some tides.
Date July 16, 2011

Refitted Warehouse; Brooklyn


Old warehouses are good for a great deal of things, the least of which being refitted into arenas. This particular roller derby rink has been in use since long before the Midtown incident, and its patrons and players are integrated into the community, as it were. The does not mean it has not had its share of divisions, and even now the league finds itself haggling along at a snail's pace for members and spectators. An Open House is just the thing, right?

The warehouse has been long fitted with an arena track, banked in a circular shape, polished and repolished as it gets scuffed and worn. The area around it is slightly raised, and in the back, some bleachers along the walls. There is a desk at the front to take admission, and for the most part refreshments are sparse, but for some reason delicious. Fundraising is hard work, but people are also free to bring food and drink in, as per usual. The regulars bring more than others, and frankly, there is very little carding going on.

The locker rooms have been pretty busy, as has the rink itself; primarily, they are letting players and tryouts warm themselves up on it until the runs begin. The teams are close knit as they mingle on the floor with guests, waiting turns to be able to warm up as they'd like. All in all, every side of this is a popular affair, if somewhat impoverished and in dire need of all that fundraising money. They save money where they can- most of the team uniforms, unique to themselves, plastered with names and numbers, are crafted from things that people already had around. It gives the players a thrown together look, but it works for them as well as jerseys do for any other type of sport. Short skirts and low tops, bra straps and facepaint.

It's a very complex uniform system.

Delilah would not have thought much about joining the girls more than a couple years before, when she first started coming to games at intervals; she was never very intent on seeing the brackets played out, though seemed to enjoy it when she went. Nowadays, she's found herself very dangerously without an outlet for her frustration, and for the things that do plague her. So, regardless of if she will be fit to pass into a team, Dee has signed herself up.

Her dress for the event is simple, for now- a pale yellow miniskirt, a white tank top, bulky pads, dark stockings. Dee came fully prepared to get things torn up, however, so they are not her most unscuffed pieces of clothing in the first place. She rests her elbows on the rink rail, watching the warm-up before she gets called back to the locker to tug on her own skates and hit the track herself. Walter is, blessedly, at home, being babysat, and right now seems to actually be Delilah time.

This isn't normally something Robyn Quinn would ahve really thought about coming to under normal circumstances. But after having to mention it a few times during ehr radio show the day before, it hadn't been hard for her to decide, hey, this might make for a good way to spend the day - having fun out of the apartment, watching cute girl play rollar derby and generally having a good time. Elaine was even supposed to come, if she had the time and chance once she got off work. But for now, Quinn's here solo, a wide smile on her face as she walks her way through the audiance.

What Quinn definitely isn't here to do is try out or participate in any way shape or form. So she's dressed rather boring, in a knee length black skirt and a dark green t-shirt, both of which contrast rather strongly with her dyed blonde hair.That pair of glasses she's taken to reading lately, both for read and in a sort of Clark Kent/Superman attempt at disguise, slide a bit down her nose, pushed back up with a grimace as she watches, looks for a seat. One hand slips into her pocket, the other into the bag hanging form ehr shoulder, a candy bar drawn out. Refreshments may be short, but Quinn is prepared.

"Watch it! Coming through!" Hortense is dressed, fishnets with holes in them, hair in two braids, elbow pads and knee pads and her skates already on and done her warm up so far. Her and a bunch of her girlfriends are tryingout - one is already a member - and they're all up there already whirling about the rink.

She comes to a stop beside Delilah, almost falling over the rail on purpose. "GO REBECCA KICK SOME ASSSSSSSS" in a deep voice, pumping a fist up in the air in support. Midriff bare, hot pink hot pants, ripped t-shirt cut short, sports bra beneath, she's looking one of the colorful part even down to her legwarmers in their vibrant shades remeniscent of the 80's. "Fuck yeah, this is great. Really, hey" She looks to Delilah, offering her hand. "Hortense"

Delilah follows a head of dyed blonde across the crowd, only seeing fit to raise her hand when Quinn stops to sit, and she can see the other woman's face. Her hand bobs in greeting, and her helmet is hung from the other wrist, so it can be easy for Quinn to see who that is making hands at her. Her smile cracks open, and she keeps her footing as Hortense comes flailing forward to the rail. Delilah recognizes her nearly immediately, but Hortense not so much!

"I know." The redhead laughs and grins, her smile widening. "Delilah. We've met before. I have the little ginger boy?" She has to heighten her voice to be heard this close to things. "I saw you warming up! You're good! Probably better than me, anyhow." Her head turns briefly to find Quinn again, before she lets go of the rail and swings her black helmet onto her head, braid down her back. "I have the last warmup before the runs start.. knowing these girls they'll probably start while we're on there. See you from the other side, gal."

Running a little late as it is, even. Delilah forces herself to stop socializing and squeeze back to the locker rooms. As she does, the girls on the track currently begin to slow down and curb off of it, as the next set starts to roll out onto it. Dee is, unfortunately, the last one out of the gate and onto the rink, and this gets her at least one landed bap in the arm(several tries) from the girls heading in. Ritual, once supposes. Tease the stragglers.

Well, that's something Quinn didn't expect - maybe seeing friends is something isn't surprised by, but seeing someone participate? A little more unexpected. the fact that it's Delilah brings a wide smile to her face. So much for finding a seat, Quinn bounds her way down to the edge of the rink, waving excitedly when she sees Delilah make her way back out of the locker room. "Deeeeeeeeeee!" she shouts, giggling a bit as she tries to get the other woman's attention. Clearly, this afternoon is going to be more fun than she had expected!

"Oh right! The ginger kid! Aww thanks, I'm sure you'll be fine. If you land on your ass, make it spectacular" She offersup, draping her arms over the rail even as Quinn is bounding down down down. "Friend of yours?" Obviously, but she'll state the obvious. Hortense offers a wide mouthed smile before lifting her hand, cupping around her mouth and cheering on the people now rolling around the rink for their warm up. And her friend. "BEEEEECCCCCCAAAAAAAA"

The Roller Derby. Elle never really thought she'd be here right now. Probably, she should be in hiding…but that doesn't really help much when Warren has disappeared; his place doesn't feel quite so safe when he's not around. Besides, she needs to move around, and what better way to do so than to go to a roller derby tonight? It's easier to get lost in a crowd, anyhow.

Currently, the blonde with a streak of black in her bangs is staring at a pair of roller skates, debating on whether or not she's going to try out. Maybe she should just watch. Might not be good to put herself in the limelight. But then again…it might be nice to just let go and stop hiding for a while. And partake in a sport, perhaps.

Decisions are difficult.

Delilah comes out at a smooth pace with the rest of the girls, coasting along before pushing herself into the pack of them. There is no race going, but the competition is there- a couple more pull ahead, some of the others pitch forward to catch up to them. Delilah finds that incidentally, she is one of them, more than willing to get herself going along the bank at a fair clip. She is slow enough to offer Quinn a laugh, and have it manage to get to the girl's ears. The crowding doesn't make it easy, for sure.

There are a few laps around the rink to go, before one of the bestriped rollergirls takes to the track and peeps through her whistle. The warmup girls slow down, and the others in the wings all pull to attention. The ref is not a big woman, rather more wiry than anything, middling height, with stark green hair tailed behind her helmet. "Warmup pack seven and two will go first!" She announces, and thanks to a lapel mic, can be heard. Seven is indeed Delilah's group- she was right about one thing- and two is now coming back onto the track with them, grabbing colored waistbands as from another official to tie around themselves.

"If there are any leftovers wanting in, or girls wanting out, now's your chance! We've got some spaces with this first go around!"

"Oh man, that is tempting…" Watching the other ladies as they wheel about the rink, Quinn finally stops watching Delilah and the otehrs arond her long enough to let her gaze wander, looking over the warehouse-turned-rink with a rather wide grin. Her eyes do stop momentarily as they go over Elle, for a moment feeling she kinda sorta recognises the blonde (in that vauge sort of "have I seen that person before" way), but brushes it off in favour of looking around teh rest of the crowd.

If she said a part of her wasn't considering going over to the announcer's table and trying to squeeze in tehre as a local celebrity guest, she'd be lying. But maybe in a few minutes.

Eh…it's not worth the recognition. Elle puts the skates back in the bag and zips it up, settling back into her seat to watch the goings on. A Slusho is picked up from beside the bag and slurped on, as blue eyes take in the ladies as they wheel about the rink. A brief glance is cast toward Quinn, brows raising slightly, before she turns back to watch the goings on.

She kind of feels bad, sitting it out, but Elle doesn't need to put herself out there like that. For now, she'll just watch and wish she could be out there.

No? No. There are no new volunteers, and no quitters here. The ribboned team takes first-come first-serve positions among the other team, who is essentially stuck where they begun; that puts Delilah in with the blockers, smack in the middle of the pack. She smiles broadly to herself, taking a quick look to where Quinn had still better be. The teams ready themselves at a peep from the whistle, and skate forward at the second, and a wave of the green-haired woman's hand.

The first half of the track has only the major group, as the jammers stay behind, the stars on their belts signaling impromptu positions. As the pack gets ahead on the track, the jammers take off after they get halfway, and the two women start to pump their way forward like a pair of pistons.

Delilah is nervous, can you tell? She keeps glancing over her shoulder to see if this is really going as it should. Something usually happens to things she goes to, by now. Knock on wood! Only not, because she'd trip onto her face and spit out her mouthguard. She hunkers down and skates with the group, only looking over her shoulder to make sure that there is a place she can brake into, as the jammers pass through in the first circuit. After that, the speediest skaters show why they got chosen for it- and they go off like rockets around the rink, coming up behind the teams again and starting to push themselves through. Delilah tries not to make it easy for them, braking into a spot where the ribbon'd girl is coming past, and all but knocking her back a pace.

Quinn can hear the crowd cheering better than Delilah can; they have favorites, of course, and it is tending towards the belted Team Two.

"Christ. I should've looked at wikipedia before I came," Quinn murmers, pulling her iPhone up out of her picket, fingers dancing across it. "I have no idea what the fuck is going on." That, however, doesn't stop her from cheering whenever it seems like something exciting has happened, with a few for Delilah specifically thrown in. She hasn't moved, not yet, instead she hops up and down by the edge fo the rink, a fist thrown up in the air as she cheers. Maybe if they do another round of this, she'll get out there. Not that she ahs any pads, or time to commit to something like this, but it could be a fun diversersion for th day.

Delilah isn't shocked when she gets forced off to the other side by a blocker in front of her, but it comes as a mild affront in the spirit of a game. She leans forward again to take up the spot she had before, all but actually shouldering the other woman out of the way; these girls are the big, rough ones, and Dee seems to fit right in with them. The two jammers squeeze through again, and having scored some points, manage to goad the crowd into another whooping cheer.

As they come around again, however, only one seems to get through, and that is the un-belted jammer of Team Seven. The other one gets backed into roughly by one of the blockers, and though the gesture is legal, it sends the flight risk tumbling into the wall. Incidentally, nearly right over where Quinn has parked herself- so she gets a good look at the jammer's angry face as she pushes herself back up. The one out in front now swings her hands to her hips, and the whistle pops once; they all come rolling back around to the start line, as apparently the jam has been ended.

The young woman that got knocked into the wall- dark haired, with raccoon-like eyes, sneers her way over. She is displeased. And immensely so.

"Oh snap!" Quinn hops again, pointing at the woman as she gets knocked into the wall, letting out a very lound and uncensored "Fuck yeah!" - this is what she was hoping to see. Not people getting hurt, but it;s always fun to watch people get knocked around some, right? I mean, that's got to be why people like American Football after all. "Hit her back!" she cheers as she gets caught up in the momet, hands drumming on the railing. "Come ooooon!" It makes for good entertainment when she has no idea what is going on.

Quinn might have the right idea, although that belted jammer has a similar, more literal one along the same lines. When the teams move off this time, the jammers come around and pass through as before; on the second turn around, something changes. Maybe someone can see a demeanor shift as well. The belted jammer closes in on a passage between girls, only to be blocked up by the same person that had sent her tumbling on her own before.

Delilah didn't mean to do it that hard, no- she couldn't help but use her mass, after all. She winced when the woman hit the wall, and has since watched her angrily regain ground on the second jam. What Dee wasn't expecting, when she tries to nudge the girl back a second time, is for the girl to shoulder her back with a force so sudden and so supernatural, that rather than only get knocked into the girl on her other side, Delilah hits that girl, the two hit a third, and all of them go flying ass-over-tits out of the rink and through the wooden railing on the other side.

It leaves everyone in a blur of slow motion, really, as the jammer, convinced of her greatness, passes by the rest of them, and only notices that the teams have stopped when she gets halfway around again.

The crowd, on the other hand, is kindly heating up about it; a display of evolved ability in such a vindictive manner hasn't sat well with anyone, whether or not the three girls now laying in a groaning tangle on spectators have gotten hurt. There is blood, coming from somewhere, and marking the floor up when one arm goes scrabbling to pull a torso free.

That wasn't exactly what Quinn had meant, and when the evolved ability is displayed, she gasps complete with a hand moving over her mouth like a scene out of a dramatic movie. "Holy shit, that's not what I meant!" she shouts again, eyes narrowing a bit as she grimaces. Perhaps unlike the rest of teh crowd, she seems less mad at the use of an ability and more mad at the display of unsportsmanslike conduct. But with Dee spraawled out with the others, Quinn's moving over to the edge of the rink where she had fallen, a look of worry on her face. "You okay, Dee?"

The reaction segues into a mixed pot; some of them do as Quinn does, offended at the conduct over the ability. The majority, however, begins boiling about the use of such a blatant ability in such a manner. Some, the ability's existence itself.

The crowd is parted enough so that the tangle of people can untangle. There's one nosebleed, and a mass of scrapes and splinters, and in a night's length, contusions showing up over the five-ish bodies. Delilah is apparently the one with the nosebleed, sitting herself up on the floor, smearing it all over her face when she wipes her arm across. "Ugh," Eloquent, as always. "What the hell just happened? Ow-" The redhead says this despite having a good guess, her eyes shining bright and searching around for the raccoon-esque girl from before. Her body is throbbing up both sides, the dullish pain growing as she sits there.

The dark girl is still on the track, arms crossing and brow knitting defensively. Someone yells above the rest, and above the squeal of one girl that had been crushed under the skaters, her ankle reddening.

"FREAK!"

There's a grimace on Quinn's face at the growing, bubbling uneasiess mixed with anger filling the room. Being the good samaritain that she theoretically is, regardless of weather or not she actually should, she starts climbing over the rail with the intention of going to help Delilah and who ever else she can. But the moment someone yells "freak", well, that actually manages to get a bit of a rise out Quinn, head snapping back in the direction of the yelling mid climb.

"Hey! Shut it! Other things to worry about!" is how she chistises, wishign she had the announcer's microphone in hand so that she could hopefully get better command of the crowd.

The sensation of bruised tissue travels up her faster now, and Delilah tries to get up with a grimace; the ones with skates on can't seem to get upright, and several people find themselves supporting the girls to help undo the skates. Dee peers over a shoulder when she hears Quinn's voice, with the other voices that are coming the same direction. Not the only one to want to help, but seemingly one of the only ones to care about what is being shouted above it all. The skates are off of her feet and handed up to her by a much shorter girl. The other one that got smushed under all of them, actually. Lilah breathes a word of gratitude for the people around her.

"Freak!" Another one.

"Get out of here, freak!" And a third. Delilah can hear it all now as well, and it causes her great phantom pain to have it ringing in her ears. The redhead grinds her teeth and stalks for the half-busted rail, towards Quinn. Blood streaming from her nose leaves red lines down her off-white tank, and fills the back of her throat with a coppery taste. "Quinn! I'm okay!" Someone throws a crushed beer can, and it pings off of the track with a splash of foam that lands on the guilty party's skates.

Alright, Quinn's had enough. Delilah's insisting she's okay, and while she was aproaching Delilah, she pauses, and looks over towards the announcer's table. "I said shut it!" she shouts back. A glare is offered, though, towards the offending party. "Christ, you don't seem me blinding everyone hwo pisses me off, do you?" is offered as she trudges past her, just lound enough for the other woman to hear. She's headed over the announcer's table, intent on getting that microphone in the hopes of getting everything under control. "Gimmie the mic," is all she really says, outstretched hand when she reaches it. "Robyn Quinn, I work at Studio K."

If the master of ceremony has something to say, he doesn't say it- he's a weasel-like little guy with dark eyes, he is not much bigger than some of these tall women. Tall, angry women. Tall, angry women in a crowd voicing its displeasure. This wasn't covered in the job description! He looks between Quinn and the microphone, and hesitantly hands it over to her. "Be careful, I'm not in the mood to be trampled." Ping! A second can goes scuttling over the open rink.

The girl that had originally caused this mess is gripping herself closely, eyeballing the track to try and find an open space. A bottle hits the ground this time, and glass shatters across the track amongst the splatter of foam. The girl shrieks at this one, and by now Delilah is approaching her; there is a moment where she probably thinks the redhead came back for more- that is, before she reaches out to simply take her by the elbow and pull her after Quinn. There is an initial resistance- a strong one, too- but when Dee leans in to say something, the girl apparently changes her mind. For now. Can still glare at Dee, anyway.

Well, Quinn wasn't meaning to sound angry, but if it works in her favour, she's going to work with it for the time being. It's not like the MC was looking to do anything about anything anyway. She takes the mic, not quite snapping it up, and flicks at it twice to make sure it's actually on. Once satisfied, she holds it to her mouth, eyes narrowed as she looks out at the crowd. She takes notice of Delilah pulling the women over towards her, and reaches into her bag, producing a hankerchief for Dee to tend to her bloodied nose with.

"HEY!" she shouts into the mic in an effort to get the attention of as many people as possible. "Everyone calm down," she commands, stepping towards the centre of the rink, closer towards where the pile of fallen derbiers. "Has anyone called for help? Or were we all just planning on shouting at each other day?" Okay, that's a bit more bristly than she intended, bu taking a deep breath, she moves to offer a hand to one of the women. " Hello, my name is RObyn Quinn. Everyone please remain calm. Accidents happen, mistakes happen. We're going to sort this out, but the last thing we need is everyone shouting and getting riled up."

There is quite a bit of bustling at the back, and still some of the loudness lingering back there as well. Nobody finds it fit to yell again. Yet. It appears that Quinn has the floor. So to speak, even if she is on the center of it. Someone near the center of things pipes up in a few moments. "I called!" And a second "I called a cab." Someone else sniggers, and the noise sprouts uneasily to a few more. The woman Quinn offers an arm to is similarly hesitant to take it.

Delilah accepts the piece of fabric with a wet snort of air, wiping her face and clamping it over her nose. "Don'orry, 'tick wit'me." She says to the woman, that just a short time ago, fired her through a railing. "Yuh owe me a shirt, darlin'."

"Thank you," Quinn replies with a nod of her head in the direction of the person who said they had called for help. She doesn't acknowledge the heckler, at least not with any more than a glare offered in their direction. "Good. That's a step in the right direction. Everyone who intends to stay, please, remain seated. Everyone who's not, try to leave calmly." Turning to he rollar bladers, she offers a smile and a tilt of ehr head. "If you ladies could find somewhere to sit, someone'll clean up the small mess, and we'll make sure everyone is checked out " Again, she offers her hand to one of the women still on the ground. She's waiting for someone to make an outburst, but things seem to be going well, even if tehy've come to grinding halt now.

Quinn took the reins at exactly the right time, or else something would likely have happened to change the evening for the much, much worse. Still, there are lots of angry people heading for the doors now; for many of them, the evening was ruined right out. For some, they don't care, and remain clustered at seats or around the floor, peering after the departing bodies with a mixture of wariness and sadness. Lots of cracking cans and a half a dozen more breaking bottles crash around into the rink as they leave, leaving a mess as only a mess can leave one.

Delilah lets go of the girl only when people begin to try and forget what happened. Before she can say anything to her, however, the woman with the deepset, circled eyes bolts like a horse out of the gate, and leaves Dee bloodied and speechless in her wake. The redhead turns towards Quinn, lifting the fabric from her nose.

"Bloody fuck, Quinn." There is no way that she'll be able to get in now. Not after that show they got. They'll be lucky anymore if they get into the games at all. "…there goes the neighborhood."


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