Saturday Night's All Right For Fighting


ash_icon.gif huruma_icon.gif luke_icon.gif magnes_icon.gif

Scene Title Saturday Night's All Right For Fighting
Synopsis …Get a little action in. Saturday Night Main Event fight down in the Center stage.
Date April 17, 2010

The Center Stage

It smells of sweat in the basement of Coco's boxing gym all the time; sweat undercut by blood. Beneath the floor of Long Island City's oldest boxing gym lies a newer secret, a dirty and grimy basement of exposed pipes and chain-link fence that has become an underground fighting sensation. Since the collapse of the Pancratium on Staten Island, the appetite for destruction held by so many of New York City's criminal element is sated here in painful beauty.

This basement is five rooms with low ceilings, serving as a unisex locker room, makeshift medical bay consisting of a single uncomfortable gurney on wheels and a few first aid kits and a back office. The primary feature of Coco's basement is the "center stage" as it's called, a spacious storage floor where a thirty foot by thirty foot floor to ceiling chain link cage surrounded by a ten foot buffer zone of screaming, sweaty spectators where the action happens.

Three nights out of the week unlicensed underground bloodsport takes place down in that cage, with non-evolved fighters from around the city pitting themselves against the desperate, the depraved and the sportsmen. Betting is organized and enforced by Triad connections and enforcers from the Ghost Shadows Triad are entirely common on all open nights.

One night out of those three, however, serves as the "main event" where Evolved fighters are pitted against one another in no holds barred competition.

A fist connects with enough force to dislocate a jaw and split knuckles, spatters of blood spraying drops against the white muscle tee of a bystander who's fist is raised in the air, mouth wide and yelling encouragement to the person he bet on. You can't help but hear the crunch of the evolved individual's bones who was on the recieving end as his face turn violently followed by the rest of his body a few moments later. He almost hangs there, like a moment frozen in time before the tattoo'd man goes down, eye's rolled into the back of his head and someone steps over to give him a shake and judge conciousness.

The other fighter stands waiting, knee's bent and fists ready. It was Super Strength against super speed. Most had been betting on speedy to win, but there is disappointment all around when the short squat asian barks out something unknown ot some and points to the super strenght individual who managed to land a hit. The winner. This round of Main Event night is over and there's list consulting of who's next while someone scrapes speedy off the ground and the guy with Strength is pumping his fist in the air in celebration while others exchange money and grumble about loosing or winning.

The smell of rank sweat, jostling bodies that are squeezed in here on this saturday night, ignorant of the curfew or laws that likely and probably do prohibit such things. Pushing happens, people wanting a good view, other wanting to get a bit of a physcial jab in at the person who lost and cost them money in the fight. Anyone too rowdy is kicked out, told to get out and physically escorted. This is not the Pancratium. People down here are not there involuntarily and those who are brave, they can make a little bit of money for thier blood.

"ASH! Peak Human!" The name is called out. "DRAKE! Gavity Manipulation!" The next two participants are called out to come from one end of the basement, a path parting for them to get into the center. No fighitng quite yet, right now the betting starts.

Ash stands behind the crowd, the man stretching, not warming up with punches and shadowboxing, but on the ground, stretching out. He's dressed in a pair of simple black gi pants, and a tank top above them, his feet bare, but taped along the arch, and his hands taped up as well. He's sprawled out on the floor, in a full splits, reaching to his toes with his arms when the call of his name goes out. His head tilts to etiher side, loosening up his neck before he rolls to his feet in a smooth motion, popping up to a standing position. He doesn't bounce around or anything like that, just turns and begins to walk his way up the path through the press of people to the fighting area.

Once he gets to the fighting area he stops and looks around at everyone. He doesn't seem cocky, but he does seem confident, and some of the people here would probably recognize him from other underground fights in the city, he's been a part of them for quite a long time, both before prison, and after Moab. He waits there to see just who he's going ot be fighting, his eyes searching the crowd for this Drake guy.

Not bothering to go for style, 'Bruce Drake', aka Magnes Varlane, enters the cage wearing all white. White sneakers with any conflicting colors or logos painted over, white denim jeans, white belt, and a form-fitting cotton long-sleeved white shirt. His hands are covered by white leather gloves, and the white mask with no holes cut in it is zipped to the shirt, around the neck. His voice modulator is under the zipper, thus only visible as a slight lump under the fabric.

"Brings back memories." he says in the slightly dual voice, not bothering with the deep voice distortion, just slightly deeper than normal with four other voices thrown in for good measure. It sounds quite otherworldly, inspired by Rebel.

He stares at Ash, something no apparent in such a concealing outfit, his race isn't even discernable. "Peak Human Condition? So, like Batman, except you won the genetic lottery. Got it." He cracks his knuckles, then just waits.

Many times, Huruma's presence at these fights is purely for the game's sake. This time, however, she has been milling in the dark, far corner for a couple of hours- actually placing bets, no less, seeming more keen tonight on for now- testing her ability to gauge others' skills. She used to do it, only having got out of practice during the recent winter months- and months. She is going to fight later. Hopefully she will make it worth the time spent and some money lost. She was one of the bets that went on the speedster.

Suffice to say, she was disappointed, but even brutes get lucky. Her long coat masks most of her, save for the triangle of her collar space and her head. When the next set is called, Huruma repositions herself into the crowd, sidling forward until she can see- and feel- the players. Ash is well known, but this other one; well, what to say? Really? Huruma has felt him before, but his physical mask is as effective as it ought to be.

Luke has no specific outfit or costume to wear, except for a black coat he 'found' on the streets over his pair of jeans and a tshirt, both somewhat dirty. He's lurking off to the side, watching the fights with a bored expression. He lucked out, some idiot left their iPod on a table when they went to go get a refill for their drink, so it soon ended up in a pawn shop and the cash it garnered ended up in Luke's pocket. Seventy five went to admission, the rest is hidden.

The next two fighters lining up are eyed skeptically, especially the guy in white. "A mask? Really?" He moves closer, looking from 'Drake' to Ash. He squints at the guy, frowning. He looks familiar.

There's snickers at Magnes and his costume when he shows up, that alone is something that bodes not in Magnes's favor when it comes to the three minutes that are quickly offered for betting. He's the first to show up, most have just stuck to shorts or jogging pants, clothing that will not hinder or hide their identity.

People wave money, point to their participant of choice while yelling to be heard over others who all do the same. It's marked down, the noise near deafening in the enclosed space with it's cement walls that reflect the sound and money exchanges hands for slips of paper.

The betting seems pretty even though and the minutes tick by, Ash and Magnes allowed to strut, preen or do whatever they want to do in preparation for the fight outside of the ring in the open space that surrounds it all while a skinny younger teenager - likely the son of one of the organizers - squeegies and mops up the blood and dries the fighting ring off then hurries out of it to be replaced by the same squat Asian who declared the last fight over.

He squeezes past the people and goes through the cage door, all betting stopped while he's ushering the two fighters in with quick pats on their back and no other words. Once they're in, that's it and the door is closed. With a ringing of a bell, the only warning…

It starts all over again.

Ash looks at Magnes in disbelief, all of that white just… drawing his gaze. He looks to the other man and shakes his ehad slowly. Men coming in masked isn't all that new, not wnating thier identities to be known, but all in white? "Blood is goign to be a royal bitch to get out of that outfit friend." He comments over to him, rolling his shoudlers forwards, then back, slowly, loosening his form up before he offers a faint smile to him. "Yeah, you could say that." This in response to the batman comment. He stands there, turning to look about at the spectators, getting a good look at them while he waits for the beginning of the fight to be declared.

Huruma would sense no fear, and no doubt from Ash, utterly confident without being cocky. He's gotten his ass handed to him a few times in these fights, especially after Moab. Speedsters, they're his bane. He bobs to the right and left just a touch before he turns fully back towards Magnes, tipping his head to the man. "After you Twinkle." He winks at him, a smirk touching his lips. He turns and climbs into the cage when it's clear for him to do so, not needing the ecnouragement from the ringmaster. He slips up inside and turns, waiting, utterly calm, relaxed. Then the bell goes off, and Ash is in motion. He wasts absolutely no time, his feet pushing him towards Magnes with a speed that shocks most people considering his size and that he's not a speedster, a foot already swinging through the air in the direction of Magnes' left knee.

"My clothing is a canvas." Magnes notes as he enters the ring, not bothering with floating, just waiting for the match to begin. "Your face is the brush." When Ash starts charging, he's not about to get his knee dislocated by someone with enhanced strength. That'd hurt like hell and put him out for weeks. He starts running for his opponent as well, though doesn't seem to be going for any particular attack before he jumps about a foot off the ground, aiming said left knee to try and hit the man in the face.

If Huruma was trying to feel anything, she'd feel an unbelievable amount of excitement and enthusiasm. This is liberating.

This is one other reason she so enjoys this. The raw emotion that comes with a fight- even if not to the death- is something that she experiences little of in the every day grind. Sometimes, it is just worth it to sense it wash all around her again. Not to mention it gets her own adrenaline going, which is going to be such a delight. The tall woman mingles in the crowd after placing a bet with one of the bookies amongst them. The fourth wall refrains from saying who it is on the basis of Huruma having a roll at her luck.

When the two are let inside the cage and the door clamped shut, she is hovering near the front rows of the crowd, much to the dismay of anyone that happens to be standing right behind her. If they want her to move, good luck with that. Huruma is that one person where 'down in front' will not cut it.

Luke is mostly feeling anticipation, boredom, and impatience, not to mention some pent-up frustration and a deep-seated worry and anger. Huruma will have a field day with this guy. He jostles up to the front as well, glowering at those who jostle back. He's not adverse to giving small jolts of his power to make people flinch away in reflex, so he ends up in the front as well. That'll learn 'em.

The race is on, the combatants are starting in on each other and it's a good thing that there's the space kept around the cage or people would be climbing it, shaking it, and otherwise loosing fingers to everything.

The fear, excitement, exhilaration and joy nearly hangs thick in the air for Huruma, a veritable playground for her as from her front row plant, it just washes around her nearly neck deep and twice as heavy. The odd individual who's keeping their calm are seen here and there, members of staff and organizing who are there not to enjoy the fights but to make sure that people don't get too out of control and toss out the assholes who do. All it would take is one person to ruin it and the knowledge of who runs this thing is enough for most to keep their heads about them.

Insults are hurled towards the cage, mixed with bellowed encouragements, demand for blood, instructions for either person in the cage that's fighting but no ones interfering with fight. To do so means tossing and banning. cans of beer are raised, drops sloshing out as they do, brown bottles partly drank are tapped against one another and good luck passed between some rich kids who look out of place and came looking for a different sort of night experience after getting tired of the blizzard that's kicked up.

Ash charges, Magnes leaps and kicks, people froth at the mouth and neck muscles strain under skin and people jostle Huruma and each other for the best view, not caring who it might upset or tick off, Luke included. It's part of Fight night at it's best.

Ash digs his feet into the concrete, or rather, the concrete into his mostly bare feet, propelling himself forwards hard and fast. He never really intended to take Magnes in the knee though, but there's almost no hint of that fact until right before hand. Even as Magnes makes that jump upwards and lashes his knee forwards Ash's face, Ash is changing dorections. The foot that was on it's way towards the other man's knee is planted in teh ground, the force and momentum tugging his body around in a full circle, putting him at Magnes' side, and spinning his other leg around hard, aiming it for the gravity boy's back, though whether he's still there at that moment or not is something Ash doesn't know until he spins around full circle, the back of his other leg is the one speeding towards the other man's back, the leg that was the original kick now planted squarely on the ground.

Aggression boils off of Ash in waves, adrenaline pounding through his system and leaving just that single emotion of aggression coming from him. No hatred, no anger, just the pure need to destroy something or someone. He doesnt' spare a single glances for the crowd, his entire attention focused upon Magnes, watching his body closely, his entire body, not just his legs and footwork as would be normal. The man's ability makes that kind of a moot and pointless activity.

Magnes takes that hit quite hard, if not for his ability and suddenly lowering his weight, bones might be breaking, but there's sure as hell gonna be bruising. He both takes the hit, and falls all the way into the cage in his disorientation. He lays there for a moment, groaning a little, but then realizes where he is again.

Standing on the side of the cage, then promptly jumping back down to the concrete upright again, he crouches a bit, arms in a fighting stance. "Most of my training involved getting the crap kicked out of me, at least with the first person who ever trained me. The person who trained me the longest, she taught me not to hesitate." He's suddenly charging again, seemingly intending to send an extremely telegraphed punch into Ash's face, but at the very last moment, he changes his movement in mid air, spinning around and extending his right leg in an attempt to drive a gravity-augmented heel into the side of the man's ribs. It's about equivalent to a boxer's punch, if it hits.

Huruma's observance is not as keen until the man in white is able to get back up and charge ahead again; all that she was able to get so far was that she had felt his presence somewhere before. Though he has the voice changer and the mask now, Magnes' ghost has many mannerisms that keep reminding her of someone. It is not until he changes movements in the middle of his charge that she seems far more interested, a half-stoic column amongst the jostling and yelling bodies squashed around the match.
Luke is perfectly willing to utilize his elbows to keep people from shoving him too much, and he watches the fight alertly. Yeah, that one guy seems very familiar. Did he fight with him once? When was this…? He narrows his eyes, trying to think. He's gotten into so many fights, he really can't think of it. The guy in white is sneered at. Seriously, what gives with that guy?

Ash feels his leg impact on the man's back, and he even winces a bit at the impact, not in sympathy, but in how hard his leg hit. He doesn't give Magnes any additional time though. The guy tumbles to the ground, and Ash is immediatley running forwards, feet scrapign the concrete, leaving a bit of skin behind him as he pushes towards him, intent on punishing him further. But when the man springs to his feet Ash's advance slows, not alot, but enough to give him some reaction time. He's expecting the feint, not expecting the other to throw a fist that obvious. He sees the kick coming, but it's a hell of alot quicker than he thought it would. His body is in motion when he's struck, but unfortunatley for him, he was moving into the blow, not away from it, having expected to have the time to bring his knee up to block it. That leg is half lifted when that heel slams into his side, sending the large man skidding, stagging a few steps, a solid grunt of pain, and a flash of that pain touching his face.

But, it's only that brief moment of respite before Ash flings his body back into it, throwing a rapid series of punches towards Magnes, though none of them hold much in the way of force, they're not what he's going for, the straight kick that he brings up from the floor to drive towards Magnes' guts is the blow he relaly wants to land. He throws his body into the motion too, knowing that with this man's speed and strength enhanced as they are, if he doesn't land the blow he'll need to get clear or be punished in return, so it's turned into a lunging kick that will give him a few feet of space should he miss. Anyone watching his face though can still see the tension from the blow the other guy landed. But Ash knows what he's doing, ignore the pain and push on or you lose.

Magnes quickly holds arms up, blocking some of the blows, but they're so fast a few hit him in the face, causing mouth shaped red to seep through the mask. It's a bit overwhelmed with trying to block punches that he doesn't even see the kick slam right into his gut, and he's reeling over, holding his stomach as he tries not to immediately pass out from such a blow.

It's too much pain to just let go suddenly, and he can't bring himself to walk, but while Ash is in front of him, he pushes one foot against the floor and goes flying for a hard ram, going purely for the momentum of falling, with a little weight added for impact. Such a broad move could easily backfire, but being a sitting duck isn't any better.

Ash is expecting evasive manuevers from the kid, not bull rushes in response. So when Magnes launches himself, pushing off from the ground like that, he slams full force into Ash, knocking Ash's chin upwards, jerki9ng his head back, and sending his solid form bouncing away and off of the cage walls. He grunts hard, tumbling across the concrete for a few feet.

But, he doesn't stay down, not for a single second. He keeps with the roll, coming up on his feet in a crouch, eyes narrowed at the other man. He starts to shift towards his right, but a tremor runs through him, pain from the earlier blow to his side causing his movement sot falter. He turns his head, spitting blood from his mouth, the impact to his chin having busted something in his mouth, maybe he bit his tongue? Then a soundless snarl, his lip twisted he's up off of the ground and sprnting across the floor towards Magnes, not rageful though, never losing control of himself.

His motions are quick now, not about power, now he's about trying to strike in as many blows as he can, wary though of Magnes, the boy's gravity abilities having surprised Ash. Gravity, he thinks flying, and being shoved around the ring, not speed and strength enhanced blows, and the cushioning of blows either. he moves in, throwing out quick kicks, his kickboxing form showing through as he aims kicks at the other man's legs and sides, most of them probably blocked, but he's also keeping alert, looking for kicks and blows from the other man.

"I don't know who you are, but I've gotta measure myself, measure everything my mentors have done for me, measure how much I've grown as a man." Magnes says as Ash is charging, and he's struggling to stand up straight from the gut blow. He sounds both pained and excited, driven.

He starts trying to block kicks, occasionally slamming a slightly gravity-enhanced arm into a leg, but his chest and rubs take quite a few hits, considering the gravity-manipulator is trying to protect his head most of the time. "I've been broken, how much pain have you taken?!" He asks this in rage, almost the complete opposite of Ash in mood and demeanor.

One can easily tell he's hurt, and it should only take a few good blows to take him down, but in all that rage, excitement, and pain, his blows almost exclusively become hard and vicious, abandoning any form of protection as he starts going for Ash with his own kicks. He's by no means a trained kickboxer, but his kicks are stronger and faster than his punches as a result of skating for years. He's taking more damage than ever, but in the process trying to defeat the other man with pure physical insanity.

This can't go on for long.

"God, can this guy be any more cliche." Luke complains loudly. "Next he's going to start spewing shit about how he's going to protect the world from his nemesis and how this is training for that."

Ash grunts as his legs fly through the air, rapid blows, not as much strength behind them as he'd like. "Talk to much kid." He growls out at the younger man, the impact of flesh on flesh rapid, on both sides. His limbs are a blur as he throws his punches, but Magnes' own power enhanced blows are taking thier toll. Anyone, not just the trained fighters, can see Ash's blows slowing, his arms ducking down to protect his ribs a little too much to keep up the heat on the other man. Instea dof pure blows, he starts to duck and wave, dodging most of the blows thrown his way, but it's coming down to the point where it's got to be finished.

Ash steps in towards Magnes, taking a tremendous blow to his side, a blow that anyone watching closely can see has bruised ribs. Ash is solid muscle, but that blow causes the flesh around it to ripple in response to it's strength. Ash finally cries out in pain, even as a full force first, all the power he can muster behind it, is flying towards the side of Magnes' head, arcing through the air, but whether it connects or not… is up to what Magnes does in response.

Hit after hit is exchange, feints that succeed and the play between peak human and gravitokinetic is not so much a flashy show as the hydrokinetic earlier, but it's intruiging enough and keeping the crowd riled up and screaming, still jostling Huruma and Luke.

"GET HIM YOU MASKED MENACE!" Someone bellows.


"BLOOOOOD!" Another person bellows.

"I don't talk too much, you just think too slowly! You can't fight and talk at the same time because I'm smarter than you!" Magnes declares quite confidently, possibly trying to piss the other off, maybe even believing it, who knows.

"Enough playing!" He suddenly thrusts his left palm out, fingers and thumbs curled, and just as the fist plants into the gravity-manipulator's face, a powerful force extends from his body and rocks Ash's entire body, trying to thrust him clear across the cage with enough force for him to hit the fence.

Unfortunately, that was his last attack, because he starts stumbling back, then slowly hits the ground before falling unconscious. He's floating slightly, and normally he wouldn't even hit the ground when going unconscious, but he knows when he's about to go out, so no point in winning by default of standing up without consciousness.

Ash blinks, his eyes going wide as he feels his body lifting from the ground, and then he's flung across the cage like a superhero in the comic books, or a super villain. Either way he goes tumbling through the air, bounces off the cage hard, hard enough that it might have done damage to it, then he hits the concrete, and hard, his skull bouncing off of it, leaving a good scrape of skin and blood behind, and splitting his forhead open above the eyebrow. He then lays there, bleeding, and quite clearly unconcious. Both fighters, out cold, a double KO.

Huruma knows who it is, now. Especially when he gives off a last burst of force before passing out. Magnes was never actually trained as well as he was saying he was- Ash was born to do it, on the other hand. Realizing him takes her mind off of losing when it is clear that nobody won. Surely, lots of disappointment in the crowd now. The tall woman pushes her way nearer to the front again, getting closer to where the door to the cage is. Perhaps she just wants to hear where they are taking him- perhaps she just wants to see them both carried out, and the degree of wounds. Who knows for sure. Perhaps a little of both.

Luke lifts his eyebrows at the burst of force, and regards the white-clad fighter thoughtfully. Huh… maybe under all that ridiculous getup he's not as cheesy as he seems. Maybe.

Mass disappointment from the crowd, a litaney of boo's and unhappy sounds. Nobody wins but the house. It's not often that this happens, both participants in a double knock out. A few people push past Huruma to get to the cage and start the job of cleaning up Magnes and Ash from the floor so that it can get ready for the next fight and everyone waits in an uneasy and anxious crowd to see who's next up for the entertainment this night.

"Luke" The organizer calls out. "Microwave emission!" There's a glance around to see if he'll actually step up. "Huruma! Empath" No ones ability seems to go unknown. Not on this night and no ones going to reveal it outside of the bounds of this place.

The bets start as the two are let into the cage and the door slammed shut behind them. Money changes hands, bets on luke seeming to beat that of Huruma. Odds are in his favor and it goes on until the bang of the bell goes off to signal the fight while Ash and Magnes are taken in the back for medical attention and a few smelling salts to wake them.

Ash doesn't need to be carried out. He begins to stir soon after his head bounces. He does however, need to be helped out of the cage, unable to walk entirely straight. He lims, blood leaking down his face from the busted open forhead. He stops when he sees Huruma, a surprised look in his eyes before he offers her a slow nod of his head towards her respectfully.

One he's outside of the cage he finds a spot towards the back so he can observe the fight without jostling and being jostled. His tanktop is pulled off, and used to mop up the blood on his face. His injuries from the fight show clearly. A massive bruise spreading from where Magnes' heel impacted on his side, and a number of other bruises and abrasions from the kid's blows. Ash's jaw clenches up, and he settles in to watch the coming fight with great interest.

Huruma he's seen fight, but Luke… His head turns, eyes focusing in on on the other kid in the cage, eyes blinking a few times before his lips pull up into a grin. He looks about for Magnes' unconcious form, and then begins to limp his way that way, intending to see if the guy is okay.

Just like the last fight, one can't entirely rely on the reading of ability to the crowd to judge it- that's why they have a few minutes while the fighters step up to the plate. Huruma sheds her long coat, letting it slide from her arms and hand onto the floor neatly beside the outer doors of the cage. Her long limbs are bare, and her legs formed around by sheathes of black pantlegs over solid boots. The v-neck of a sleeveless top doesn't go far, just enough so that the tensions of the finer muscles in her neck and collar are visible under the lights contrasting her skin. Her belt is effectively one long piece of fabric, interestingly a brilliant red. Trying it in a different few places- though its meaning to her seems to be more of a respectful obligation to bear it.

Luke moves into the cage, pulling off the jacket and leaving it where other people are leaving theirs, staying in his jeans and tshirt, and sneakers. He looks surprised when he sees his opponent. Huh, it's her… interesting. He limbers up his arms, flexing his fingers. See… he never learned jujitsu, or kung fu, or any of that stuff. He belongs to the school of Punching-Faces-With-Fists-fu. He's not going to hold back because she's a lady, that's old-fashioned and….. would probably get him owned. He's ready for the fight to start.

Ash walks over to Magnes, checking on the man, but leaves his mask on, respecting his desire for privacy. He checks to make sure he's breathing okay and everything before he nods his head and walks back towards the ring, limping, favoring his side, not walking quite straight, and definitley not going to have a pleasant night's sleep tonight. He stops a little ways from the cage, content to watch from afar, though his eyes do blink at the sight of the red scarf around Huruma's waist, an eyebrow lifting, but besides that? he settles in to watch the fight and nothing more for the time being.

Huruma's arms extend in a stretch of her own as she takes her place to the opposite side of the cage. Her fingers curl at the air like spiders testing the air. Her ivory colored eyes rest curiously on Luke's face, finding that mote of physical recognition. The woman's knuckles crack as the bell signals, and Luke seems ready for the event to start. For a while it does not seem like she will make the first move.

She does, eventually. Huruma's stance is not recognizable offhand- just something that she is used to; but it effectively prepares her for a bending form and a lunging spring forward, long legs lifting her into a bounding motion at Luke, one arm drawing back to swipe her nails at his face. It is not something forceful- to simply see how he responds, and if it does hit- scratch him up a bit first thing.

One thing about fighting on the streets, you get to learn the #1 rule: Protect your face. So, the attack aimed at his face has him dodging to the side, hunkering down low for a linebacker charge at her to see if he can knock her off her feet. She's moving towards him, he's moving towards her, if they meet the one with the most mass and/or speed will send the other tumbling. However, if Huruma dodges, Luke'll just barrel past like a bull.

She didn't live through so much being slow to react- Huruma feels the rush of humid air past her side when Luke barrels around her right, more concerned about getting out of the way of his bullishness than competing for space with it. The woman double times her backsteps out of the way, taking a moment to look the young man over before moving forward again; this time, she is swift to pick a target of his legs. Huruma turns, sweeping out the hook of one boot at his ankles.

All the same, she instills a pop-burst-firework of fearfulness deep in him, for only long enough for it to brush into his mind.

Luke has a reaction to the fear, and almost without thinking about it there's a pulse of microwave energy emitted from him to everyone around him, not enough to do more than cause flinching but worse for those closer than those farther away. His ankle gets hooked, and he falls to the ground, rolling and back on his feet again almost right away, translating the motion smoothly into a punch at her chest, since it's a bit of a reach to aim for her face. There doesn't seem to be any banter tossed about in this fight.

There is one other thing to be said about Huruma; when it comes to reach, she has the upper hand. A hand that reaches out, claw-like nails first snatching for Luke's neck, her torso likely recipient of his hand regardless of if she grabs on or not.

Huruma may have a greater reach, but Luke makes up for it with, er…. tenacity? After he punches her in the chest, and she grabs his neck, his foot shoots out to swing around and hook the back of her knees in an attempt to make her fall. "Well it seems we might be a bit even, huh?" he mutters to her with a fierce grin. He's enjoying this to the hilt.

"…No'really." Huruma mutters back, having gripped him close to her. The voice in his ear is brimming with something like mirth, and she shakes him hard by the neck when he tries to hook his ankle around one of her legs, her boot grinding deep into the floor. One hand around the front of Luke's neck, Huruma's other hand grabs for the top of his pants in an effort to heft him jerkily off of his feet and off to the right of the cage.

Luke responds by clinging to her. It's hard to throw someone when they've got their arms around you, and his knee comes up to her groin. Sure, it's the men who are stereotypically weak against this move, but it hurts anyone when hit in the crotch. Since he's in such close proximity to her now, he tries a little microwave energy. The most he'll do, however, would make her feel like she's been in the sun a few hours too long although she won't get a physical burn. "Dunno about that."

It's like fighting a kid- well- Luke is a kid. Huruma's wariness on his ability fades when he increases it onto her, if just to try and teach him a lesson; she has seen the full grate of his ability, and surely does not want to end up that way, but she can spare a moment to breach a clean fight so he learns not to talk too big. Her face is right there in his vision, swimming stark against the lights aimed down onto the cage. Though when her eyes meet his, Huruma reciprocates the bout of microwaves with a torrent of her own; a flood of unbridled terror and fear, like a waterfall down his spine.

At the same time, she peels back her lips, a wild yell proceeding her yanking Luke closer, teeth digging hard into the left side of his face.

Luke flinches at the fear, hugging her closer, but then she bites him. See, he hadn't actually seen her eat that guy he cooked, but she talked about it, so there's the whole 'cannibal chewing on my face' thing he has to deal with. Therefore, he removes his limpet-like grasp on her and shoves away, giving them some distance from each other.

When he pulls himself away from her, Luke will feel the air stinging at where her teeth have bitten off a chunk of flesh- a strip off of the front of his cheek and across his nose. Huruma steps back like a snake readying its coils again, the piece of the boy's face falling out of her mouth to the floor. Her bared teeth are now a mixed shade of pink and red, and the echo of the crowd outside of the cage going wild for the first blood now is able to reach them at full force. It vibrates the air around them, it feels like.

"Fight me like a man, not an oven-" Huruma growls, eyes wild and pink spittle flying to the ground.

Luke lifts a hand to his face and grimaces. "And you fight like a wild dog." he retorts. Ok, that wasn't cool. At least she didn't eat the strip she ripped off. He lunges forward, jabbing his fists forward one after another, one aimed at her chest again and the other feinting at her chin and instead swerving down to her stomach in an attempt to wind her.

The one aimed at her stomach lands square- her blocks were already centered at her chest. Huruma lets out a whuff of air, though her lungs are quick to fill back up again, even though perhaps she is not able to recycle it back out. It gives her enough peace of mind to be able to swing back one arm and launch it forward at Luke's face fist-first. Even if she doesn't hit him squarely back, it is wide enough to likely push him back again.

Luke takes the hit, but he's a big boy, and steps back to absorb the blow. He tries taking advantage of her winded state by leaping forward again with his fists, this time aiming at her chin for real, and another at her stomach. And for good measure, he'll headbutt her. He's got a thick skull, after all, might as well take advantage of it.

Huruma takes a half-step to her left, winded state making her not so much weak-kneed as she is suddenly wobbling off-center and away from him. A tilt to the left, a forward lean, and his fist glances off of her torso again- her arm arcs up as she moves, aiming to hit him with a clothesline as she takes that long step towards his rear side.

Luke must not have seen many videos on youtube, because he wasn't able to dodge that, instead getting slammed to the ground. This doesn't faze him for too long, because he swings out his foot and tries to trip her, then scrambles to his feet, wiping blood off his face.

Luke's on the ground- that's all Huruma needs to know. He scrambles halfway up before her boot swings upward at the side of his stomach when he moves to push himself those final feet.
Luke's reaction to that is to grab her foot and wrench it to the side. Let's see you deal with being pulled off your feet, huh?! If he can manage it, he'll pull her completely off her feet and slam her to the ground.

Huruma's form follows her leg when he grabs on, her spine twisting her deftly in a clockwise motion; when she turns that way she pushes herself backwards- he'll either get sat on or she will be able to push herself over him in a vague twist of a grappling maneuver. Her world is this thing between them- reactions outside are all but a muffled rumble in her ears and brain.

Luke moves to gain his feet like he attempted earlier, and since it's now her that's on the ground instead of him, he tries kicking her this time. He can play dirty too, and is perfectly willing to kick her while she's down. And he doesn't care at all that she's female.

Huruma's on the ground, but she doesn't try to tumble away; instead, she quickly finds her footing and lunges up at his waist at the same time he decides to kick her. His turn at the kicking doesn't go very well either, and now he has Huruma launching herself in a swift tackle targeted at his solar plexus.

Luke sees her coming and deliberately falls back on his back, his legs coming up to kick her in the chest. Which, if it actually hits, would hurt her a great deal and send her flying to the other side of the cage. Let's see her dodge in midair!

If this were a cartoon, Huruma's big pointy teeth would be snapping shut right in front of his face. For him it may seem that way, as she is glaring so venomously and so ready to just grab onto him again- that if he were to let her get a claw in, she just may do that. His feet find Huruma's pectoral muscles, and when he pushes her off she is sent somersaulting backwards. The woman is up again soon enough, though, like a resilient strap of bamboo. A shiver of fear jolts down Luke's mind again, backed by the sight of Huruma rushing at him. Again. She's quite persistent, he'll find.

Ok, so she seems to be coming forward to bite him again. This is a real, actual fear for him now. What's that saying? Once bitten, twice shy? Well now when he sees her leaping for him, his hand comes up and he automatically zaps her. Oh, not enough to kill her, but enough to make her feel some fear of her own.

The burst of waves feels like a smack in the face- heat- something threatening inside of her head- a loud and sudden squeal in her own ears. In layman's, it is almost like the cat that popped a balloon while playing with it; she reels backwards, muscles tightening under the abrupt strain of the migraine building in her head. She came here to bully up someone- not get fried like a hot dog. Huruma steps quickly away from him, backing up against the cage wall with one side of her face actually screwed up- one eye always remains on Luke-

And then her palm comes up to the wall- tap, tap, tap.

"Luke is the winner!" Which the odds had favoured anyways, as the fight comes to an end and Huruma taps herself out leaving Luke with a little money right back in his pocket. The door is unlocked while people either cheer, yell, enlighten everyone else with their dislike that their bet on Huruma hasn't netted them anything. The short squat man enters to give either participant a hand out of the cage if they need it, even as another is calling out the names of the next participants and giving people time to come down after this last fight and choose who their next bet will be.

Luke jerks his hand down so he doesn't actually kill her, then coughs, walking forward. "Good fight. I'll definitely have bruises." he reaches up to touch his face, eying the blood. "And a scar." he mutters. He doesn't offer her his hand, but she probably wouldn't shake it anyway. His hands be dangerous.

Huruma sulks against the wall a moment, like a cat that got spritzed with a bottle. She eyes Luke with narrowed eyes, tongue running over her teeth and cheeks to spit out a fat wad of translucence and pink off to the side. "Better men'ave worse scars from me." Whatever that even means. Huruma turns herself to the route out of the cage, not so much waiting for Luke or offering him to go out first. Whatever is best. She does, however, give her head one more thorough shake, eyes clamping shut hard as she does so. Ears are still ringing, still flushed- perhaps that was a bad idea.

Luke shrugs and leaves the cage, pocketing his winnings. Hey, seems like a good idea to him. And the good thing about all that snow is that he doesn't need to find himself an ice pack to stop the bleeding.

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