Participants:
| Scene Title | Train Brawl |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Two thugs meet on a train, get in a fight, and almost crash it. |
| Date | August 13, 2010 |
It's midafternoon, and the train isn't quite as busy as it is during rush hour; lunch is over, and it's not quite time for people to start going home yet. Sure it's still got passengers, but it's actually possible to find a seat now. Toru, however, has elected to stand up as well as, to some extent, standing out. Orange hair, for one thing. He's dressed in a loose red jacket with wide sleeves, almost kimono-style, though it's open in the front to show a wifebeater underneath. Wide-legged blue hibiscus-print swim trunks and wooden, Japanese-style sandals complete the attire. An earbud in each ear, one hand holding an iPod, the other a thick comic book printed in Japanese, and there is a sports duffel bag over one shoulder.
For all the world, he doesn't really seem to be paying much attention to the world outside his personal bubble, but he does give the occasional glance around the car. Turn the page, glance around. The hand with the 'Pod is dangled from an upper handrail, and he carries himself with a pretty casual posture.
At the next stop, Luke gets onto the train. Like he always does, he looks about to see what kind of people are on the train, and whether or not he can intimidate or annoy some, because that's always fun. Naturally, his attention is drawn to the guy with the horribly clashing combination of hair and jacket, and raises his eyebrows. Huh.
When the train stops, Toru pulls his attention away from the comic just long enough to take a count of how many people get on and how many leave. Not a specific count, y'know, but to get the idea. Not a good idea to lose track of who's around you, there could be someone looking to intimidate or annoy. Luke gets a bit of a look because Toru Knows The Type, but he isn't too overly concerned, though he may hold onto his stuff just a little more tightly.
Luke can recognize the type too, since that was the crowd he more or less hung out with before being locked away. Therefore, there's no reason why he shouldn't pull a permanent marker out of his pocket and start drawing on the wall of the train. Whoo vandalism.
And that gets a definite raised eyebrow from Toru. He rolls his eyes almost audibly, makes a note of what page he's on, and shoves the book into his bag. Earbuds are taken out and wrapped around the iPod - also shoved into the bag - and he very casually calls out to Luke, in a tone dripping with boredom, "Yo, bra, I get the whole tough guy schtick yer pullin' but maybe it ain't best to go markin' someone else's turf, dig?" Despite the Japanese getup, the accent is bizarrely very cholo.
"Do I look like I care? Whose turf is this, yours?" hey, sure, Luke wouldn't mind a fight. "I don't see anyone leaping up to claim it, this is a pretty shitty train after all."
"What am I, twelve?" Toru raises an eyebrow again, gestures vaguely with his hand. "I don't gotta 'ssert my shit with little marker doodles. I'm just sayin', ain't really kosher goin' an' markin' up another dude's spot. Ain't classy. You gotta do it, at least be smart enough not to do it in broad daylight."
"Like I said, do I look like I care?" Luke repeats. "I'm doing this because I'm bored. Unless you've got something better to do." wanna FIGHT?
It's tempting, it reallllly is. But as it stands, Toru just.. pinches the bridge of his nose. "Kid, what're you, fourteen? Fifteen?" He's guessing low on purpose, but the accent's fading a bit. "Do I look like I wanna spend my day picking a fight with some middle schooler? Does it look to you like that is what is on my mind? Swear to god, this city just keeps getting worse."
Luke sneers. "You're an idiot. I'm 19 and don't look young for my age. If you can't even tell that just by looking, maybe you're better off staying home and avoiding embarassing yourself in public in more ways than just the way you look."
And there it is. If it wasn't for the clickety-clack of wood on metal, Toru's approach might have been stealthier, but as it is, the sound follows him as he heads - surprisingly quickly - over to invade Luke's personal space, staring down at the kid, though he doesn't change his posture at all. Still all casual, one hand on the bag, other at his side. "Kid, did I not just give you a lesson 'bout respect? You got somethin' in your ears?"
As Toru approaches Luke, he turns to stare at him, and at that moment the lights flicker. Accompanying that is a feeling of discomfort, like a sunburn only there's no visible welting. "How about you just go back to where you were?"
The flickering lights actually get a reaction from Toru; he looks around with an expression that goes from bemusement to realization pretty quickly once he notices that uncomfortable feeling. "You little mother FUCKER," is his sole reply, followed pretty swiftly by a very hard fist connecting with Luke's face, which Toru then rubs in his other palm for a moment before shaking it out. "Bitch, you wanna start some shit? The fuck is wrong with you?!"
Luke jerks when he's punched in the face, and sparks form all over the metal surfaces of the train as there is a sudden zapping of microwave energy. Toru might find himself with some very painful skin, welts forming on the areas closest to Luke depending on how close he still is. "You fucker!"
A few of those welts form before Toru does get the hint to /get away/, staggering backwards and landing in a bit of a heap on the floor as he does. He looks around a bit frantically, noting the sparks on the metal, and shouts, perhaps unnecessarily, "Are you fucking retarded!? You're going to get us both killed! What the fuck are you trying to do?!"
The sparks subside, as does the painful feeling, and Luke, hand clasped to his face, glares at Toru. "You broke my nose!" yeah, Luke's pissed off, and there is indeed blood visible.
"Then I guess I did a better job than I figured!!" Toru clutches his bag close to himself, moving to stand by a door, and grips the pole closest to it. "Look, you little lunatic, next stop I am getting off this fucking train, I am not doing this shit in a fuckin'— lunchbox on wheels! You got a death wish, you can find your ass a different genie, 'cause I ain't wearin' those gay little shoes!"
"Those gay little shoes would go perfect with the way you dress! Who the hell wears that kind of shit anyway?" he nods at the jacket. Luke is still holding his nose, just in case the guy decides to punch him again.
Toru is staying far from Luke now, really. At least as far as he can while still staying close to the door. "If it's any of your business, asshole, I just got back to the states like two hours ago and in some places maybe people dress differently, aiiight?" He pinches the bridge of his nose again, shakes his head. "Fuggin' Christ, shithead kids like you are the reason this place is going to shit."
"Well why didn't you just stay where you were?" Luke snorts. "It'd be better off for all of us if you didn't come here with your douchebaggery."
"You want me to break the other one?!" …other nose? Toru doesn't even stop to notice that that statement sounds wrong before striding back over to Luke, keeping the bag close, and leans in to grab the front of Luke's shirt. "You don't know shit about my life, you pansy-ass motherfucker, so stop shoving your nose where it doesn't belong." And he shoves the kid away again just that quickly. "Ain't none of your fucking business why I do shit, homes."
ORDER: It is now your pose.
Luke shoves Toru away as well. "I could say the same to you, you don't know shit about my life, either!" this causes Luke to pause for a second, then he shakes his head angrily.
Toru stumbles backwards a few steps, adjusts his jacket, and shrugs in an exaggerated manner. "Yeah, well the diff's that I ain't askin' you to 'splain your life decisions, G. I don't give a shit where you're comin' from, I just think maybe you oughtta watch where you're goin'. Startin' shit in fuckin' public is why people like you an'-" He stumbles over his words, there. "—an' you gotta watch your back at every turn. Retard."
"Go fuck yourself, I didn't ask you, dipshit." Luke doesn't care either! "You're the one startin' shit, dumbass." well technically Luke did, but he's not about to admit it.
"Man, like I ain't already done that enough times today." Toru rolls his eyes, adjusting the bag on his shoulder, and strides back over to the doors. "Look, stupid — have I used that one yet? Look, your ass doesn't need to go around starting these dumbass fights and shit. At least don't do it in a fuggin' subway train and derail the fuckin' thing or somethin', christ." He shakes his head. "My stop's coming up, you wanna take this outside or are you done bein' a big man?"
Luke stands up. "It all depends on whether or not you're done with being a pussy." is Luke's response, contempt heavy in his tone. "More things will break outside anyway." it's true.
And that is just enough to get Toru to move to storm over to Luke again.. but he gets two steps and stops, pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time, and returns it. "You know what, fuck it, it's late and you're not worth it. So, uh, I fucked your mom, and you aren't old enough to go into a liquor store. That should cover it." Timely enough, the train slides into the station as he's noting this. "Think about that later when I'm drinking booze and you've got chocolate milk and a whore for a mom."
"Didn't know you were into necrophilia." Luke retorts. "My mom's dead, dude. Has been for a while."
Toru shrugs, stepping off the train. "Dead chicks are easy, what can I say? She's still an easy, easy whore, and don't forget about the part where my life ain't your business. You don't know me." He turns to face the train, standing just far enough outside the door to mind the gap. "Enjoy your Oreos."
Luke doesn't really know what the guy meant by that last bit, and insulting his mom is like water on a duck. "Nice to know you're the one walking away, loser. I guess you're not man enough, for all your words." ooh, snap.
Toru's only reply is a hand lifted with raised middle finger as he turns away, doors closing behind him.