Description: Strangers passing in the night. Frederick shows his mettle and teaches valued lesson on how best to deal with women (Of approximate nature to Juri Han, result may vary and consult a physition and/or a track and field coach before applying these valuable, lifetime applicable techniques.)
SOUTHTOWN VILLAGE, OUTSIDE OF XIAOYU SPORTS BAR
0233
SHITTY WEATHER, LIKE WINDY RAIN AND STUFF
This time of night, everybody expects to hear some rustling from the alleyway beside the bar. There's a restaurant right next door, and only the shittiest of the homeless would skimp on the sweet rejects Japanese corporate policy forces a quality Chinese restaurant to throw out when it's expired. The difference, of course, is in the quality of the effects - garbage is being *flung* out of those dumpsters, hardly rustled. Glasses shatter, cardboard crumples, and frankly, the smell is astounding. Eventually, it all stops - footsteps echo between the closely-situated walls of adjoining buildings. A voice, gruff, angry, speaks unaccented English to nobody in particular.
"No, the fuckin' journal read it wrong."
Pause.
"You know what? Maybe you had the Chinese dialect wrong. They've got two, man. It's a tonal language, shit like Cantonese is nine goddamn tones. Did you just forcefeed it into Google or something?"
Pause.
A raggedy man steps out from between the buildings, talking into a cellphone. His expression is an exasperated one, because, you know, Jesus Christ, nobody likes being sent on a wild goose chase. Irritatedly, he rubs at his nose.
"Alan. For the love of fuckin'-- just go type it in and specify Mandarin or Cantonese and see which one gets you 'In Japan, Competition Begets Waste.', and then do the exact fuckin' opposite dialect, for me. Please. I've been to *EVERY* sports bar in Southtown. I'm tired of it."
Frederick snaps his phone shut and slumps against the side of the building. On second thought, he digs around in one of the pockets on his coat, finds a rumpled cigarette carton, and withdraws a rumpled cigarette. It's lit - he's happy.
Boots slosh through the puddle stirring up the reflection of the murky grey sky just before the body of the wearer stumbles and falls to one knee in the filthy water. The brawl had just started but was already decided. A complete one sided overpowering. The loser would slink away empty handed and the winner would get -- The now obviously empty area where the girl they had been fighting over was suddenly absent from.
Bald, thuggish and tattooed heads turn to follow her as she saunters away covering her mouth with no real intent to stifle the yawn.
"Bitch, don't us catch you back here. Yeah, you better leave."
Juri doesn't even stop to acknowledge the abuse and catcalls after her, too weak. All bark and no bite. Water dripping from her now damp hair and bangs she considers the whole experience a net loss and a pretty boring night out. Rounding the alleyway to the strains of the last of the abuse she walks on unheeding of the other occupant of the alleyway until she walks close enough to note his presence in her personal space.
Time dilates as she turns her head to look and size him up, foot to head as in a rather pointed look, the eye closest to him remaining closed as he appears on her blind side forcing her to turn her head to access the threat. A faint chill that probably suits the weather washes over her and down her spine but she has no real intent on stopping.
It's OK, Juri - Fred isn't anything. He's more than the average grunt - that much is obvious, from the cant of his head to the squaring of his shoulders, to the hammer slung over his back and the extra weight his posture suggests he's carting behind his hips. The fact that he doesn't shy back from that sharp glare should alert Juri to his mettle, but mettle follows a lot of things - he could be insane, on drugs, a misogynist-- the list goes on. The chance of him being anywhere near the same level as her?? Preposterous. It's just cockiness, babe. Walk on, your night's a wash.
Fred tips his head, lets his eyes fall over Juri's body, and tips a salute to the Korean while she wanders past. He focuses back to his cigarette, inhales, lets the smoke drench his lungs. It doesn't take a superhero to hear what he says next, but Juri's just about as close as you can get, really.
"Jesus Christ. Southtown. Again." A pause, while he thinks, gets bored, and looks to Juri again. "You figure guys would have better taste, even drunk. Pretty clear you're gonna kick ass and take names, right? Scarier than the tits-out tarts I seen walkin' in here a little while back. Maybe it's 'cuz you gotta make your way outside a' tits. Don't take it like an insult - you got it, whatever it is." Fred SOUNDS drunk -- he probably IS drunk. If Juri gets close, he certainly SMELLS like... something.
Until he opens his mouth that is -- The charming colloquialisms these people like to use in place of English tend to make it harder for her to follow the intent behind the conversation. It actually takes time and effort to begin to put the pieces together which she begins as she sighs and looks out over the street at the now even heavier downpour of wind driven rain. Settling in against the corner with her back pressed to the wall she waits for it to die down while giving her new best friend a bemused look.
"Oh, got me all figured out! So what are you supposed to be?"
Interesting characters had been few and far between in what she had experienced of Southtown so far, the fact he had even provoked her with what appeared to be a backhanded compliment, turned insult slash praise would have turned her head like a good pick up line. Delivered in the midst of a filthy alleyway, like this it was almost an abhorrent disaster.
In reaction to it she had smiled instead, a gentle curling of the lips as she suddenly shrugs with her arms spread wide as she even though she leaves no room for him to answer as she continues on in a self-obsessed manner.
"Thought I might catch a real street fight down here. c I was expecting too much."
The disappointment is plain in her voice which twists the last few words into a curse she almost spits out. She brushes at one of her bangs and flicks the excess water away as it's something of an annoyance and linked to her dissatisfaction with the night thus far.
"I'm too drunk for it, sister, otherwise I'd do whatever you wanted, easy." Frederick doesn't quite meet Juri's eyes when he responds - he's focused on her hips, for the moment. His attention's blown away from *those* when his phone rings - it's a simple, mechanical chirp, but exactly loud enough to be audible in a pinch. Fred brings the device to his ears, and pulls his cigarette from his lips.
"Yo, babe, what's up?"
Pause. Frederick frowns.
"J-shit, jesus, okay, I won't call you babe anymore, you're like a goddamn tornado. Calm DOWN. Yeah. Yeah. OK. I know I'm not your fuckin' golden boy. Listen."
Pause. She didn't listen. She never does. Frederick's eyes widen while he listens.
"Holy shit. Seriously? Christ. Alright-- yeah. No. Thanks." Fred slaps the phone shut with a practiced grace, and sets the cigarette in his lips again - he brings those green eyes up, and fixes a wild gaze onto Juri. It's not a healthy smile he bears.
"So-- alright. You're some kinda fighter? I mean -- fuckin', alright, that's a dumb question, sure you are. You're lookin' in the wrong damn place for a fight, kid. They're no good for you here. You're a class above. Maybe a whole damn league. I can tell. You got the poise. You know what poise is, yeah?" He rolls off of his lean against the building, a shamble of khaki and green that barely finds its own feet, and staggers to a stand.
"It's in the core, like - the way you hold yourself. A trained fighter -- shit. You think you're gonna find a good street fight at a fuckin' sports bar in bumfuck Southtown? You're outta your mind." He looks at those eyes again, and pauses. "Maybe you fuckin' ARE outta your mind."
Juri cuts her attention from her fringe back to Fred and takes an interest in where he is looking, she shifts her hips and hooks a thumb into the waistband of her pants, still leaning but more provocatively than casually for the moment. As his phone chirps and he responds to the caller she in return gives him a thorough and much more potent exploration. Much more to the physique and whatever it was he had hidden behind him had a certain intrigue, but none no more than what he was now hinting at.
Juri closes the few paces between them slowly, it's a slow and almost slithering approach as she leans in closer, head tipped back and looking up into his face as her palm touches the wall at his side; she is leaning in dangerously close, close enough to brush against his body now that he is standing .
"So, you know where all the most fun spots in town are... you've got my attention."
While Juri slithers, slides, and slinks up to Frederick, he stands up straight against the wall she's chosen - the man's eyes track her movement, sure, but his body isn't responding to whatever signals she's putting out. It's an odd sort of counterplay, really, the teasing words, the suggestive glances... and the stock-still response. Juri can make of it what she will, but so far as Fred's concerned, there's a *presence* here, and he'll be damned if he's going to let it overwhelm him. Some fighters just can't help the vibe they put out.
TL;DR - Juri's got some goddamned crazy eyes, man.
Fred's shoulders quake in a laugh - he's shaking his head, pivoting on a shoulder, *away* from Juri, towards something less menacing. "Ha- naw, naw... I don't. Not here." Frederick pauses for a moment, one foot stuck in the mud right off of the curb. He's thinking.
"--But... you know. Maybe you're not all that wrong. Sayin' I know where the good fights are. You think you've got somethin' worth provin'??" He looks over his shoulder, green eyes narrowed, bright in their attention.
He knows Juri can kick his ass.
"I mean, I'm right here. You don't strike me as the kinda gal who fucks a guy who can't whip the shit outta her. Were you plannin' on takin' me dancin' or dumpin' my body in an alley??"
COMBATSYS: Frederick has started a fight here.
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Frederick 0/-------/-------|
That one eye narrows slightly as her friend moves away from her, it's a disappointment of one sort though not a blow to her pride. He had already said that she wasn't his type and she was the aggressor here, at worst case he might and squirmed or tried to wriggle away. Instead he was composed and collected, stepping and twisting away while keeping her engaged in conversation.
She actually finds the behaviour refreshing it kind of cute though she doesn't seem willing to let up on the pressure just let. It's an attractive quality in a man to be so composed, and but she hadn't really found him exciting in quite that manner he suggests.
"Hmmn, something worth proving? You must be kidding."
There is a flash of light and the distant rumble of thunder a few second later. The image of a grinning giant, appears for her eye alone, standing just behind her new friend, an old pain stabs at her left eye as she straightens and solemnly shrugs .
"Heh, it's not about proving anything. I'm just looking for some fun! ... What kind of idiot things they can prove their worth in a street fight? "
The statement takes on a delighted and horse peal as it begins and delves deeply into a derisive drawl which carries due to the low timbre it is delivered in even though it sounds like she may be speaking her thoughts allowed rather than addressing him with them. A fight to the death however, that was a terrifying way to discover your worth.
Frederick pauses in his walk away from the sports bar - a walk that would take him towards the open street, towards the closest semblance of an arena the area has to offer. He turns on a heel, sweeping around in a fashion that has his overcoat swirling, his elbow wheeling about to bring one hand to the wooden handle of the hammer over his shoulder. Reddened eyes bore holes into Juri's head - beneath them, cracked lips pull into a tired smile. It's clear that this is rote, for Frederick, but he's got time to kill, and a lot of frustration to burn.
"Sweetheart. I got time to kill. Frustration to burn." See?? "You can step out here and put some muscle where your mouth felt like runnin' of the tracks, or else you can wander on to the next bar where somebody else is gonna talk about how you dressed up like a Thai hooker but couldn't deliver on the whole 'havin' a cock' thing. You really wanna get into that can of worms? Step up or shut the fuck up and walk off. I got shit to do if you don't wanna play."
He doesn't move - he stands, there, in the middle of the street, a hand on his hammer, the other delicately holding the cigarette he'd been smoking earlier. All around, traffic has stopped - the first of a cacophony of horns begins sounding. The cops are bound to be here in -- oh, maybe ten minutes, if he doesn't move.
Fred just keeps smiling at Juri.
A pursing of the lips. Juri drinks all this in before he face contorts in an expression of incredulous mockery
"Did I offend you? Well, so~sorry. "
Likewise stepping out into the rain and keeps a casual distance away as she begins to circle swallowing up and dividing this little weather beaten arena space between them; Cars honking and fist shaking contribute to her amusement as much as the sudden turn and deviation of this encounter, truly 'going of the tracks?' perhaps.
"Come at me with everything you've got. Maybe then we can start to really enjoy ourselves... I'm a little frustrated myself. "
She felt the barbs in his last comments but seems to liven up in response to his anger directed at her, her stance is remains casual, her blood hasn't started to warm up just yet so she simply stretches and squares off against Frederick like it's another day at the gym and not a figth where her very flesh and bones are on the line.
COMBATSYS: Juri has joined the fight here.
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Juri 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Frederick
Frederick waits, and Juri takes the bait. He's more than aware of the subtle nuance in her stance - the slope of shoulder, that tuck of abdomen that suggests she's ready to take a hit but hardly ready to *commit*, and frankly, it's spoken more than anything she's said thus far. The older man's hand tightens on the wooden handle of that hammer, 'till it's white-knuckled really---
His eyes harden, focus wholly on Juri's. "Jesus," he mutters, in the same tone of voice somebody reserves for curses. "Exactly the kinda bullshit I'd expect outta a goddamn kid. You want a good time? Fuckin' invest. None of this playtime bullshit." His hand leaves that hammer, and he turns his back to Juri, again walking away - the shrieking traffic takes the advantage his movement offers, and lane by lane, Southtown traffic resumes, until Frederick's left a river of traffic between himself and Juri.
He doesn't turn back - his path takes him towards an alleyway between a convenience store and a gas station across the road, and unless Juri is *fast*, she's not going to see him again for a very long time.
COMBATSYS: Frederick has left the fight here.
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Juri 0/-------/-------|
Fred's phone begins to ring. His caller ID reads 'Asshole'.
Fred picks up. His voice is audible from the alley, because this is exactly how Asshole wrecks his rhythm. "You're wrecking my fuckin' rhythm, Alan."
Alan's voice comes through over the phone: "I swear to fuck I've ran all the goddamn ciphers and every time I spell banana on the floor, which is the fucking /answer/, I get shot all up in my shit with poison arrows and this dog ass cocksucker dime store flea market statue dumps a bowl full of acid everywhere, this lodge is /ass/ on a /plate./"
Beat.
"I hope you're enjoying your grabass while I'm dealing with acid bowls and covering for you." Click.
A violent click - like a cellphone slamming shut against an upraised palm - echoes from the alleyway. Something something "-RHYTHM, ALAN-" something something. A dumpster is punched.
Juri watches Frederick leave with her head tilted, observing his every action rather than the lane of cars trapped by her presence in the street, the driver runs his bumper right up to her kneecaps and has to stop with a jerk when she doesn't even flinch; she still keeps staring.
"Haaaaah, What was that supposed to be? Mens intuition?"
if anything this was her loss, she was still frustrated and now she was drenched as well to boot. Feh, bothersome man that one. She was still totally pent up and just looking for an exscuse to-
"Oi bitch, I thought we told you to leave. You don't show your face arou~urk"
The thugs words are clipped off as the sole of Juri's foot compacts the underside of his jaw into the rest of his head, crushing crown and molar alike, pressing and lifting him from his feet as jowls launch towards the top of his head and his the irises of his eyes roll backwards in response to the blow. In spite of the heavy body slowly pitching to the ground in front of her Juri can't help thinking about the one that got away.
She is already looking back in the direction he had left in before the body of the thug crashes down and settles in the street.
Theres always tomorrow, I guess.
COMBATSYS: Juri has ended the fight here.
Log created on 02:53:35 11/05/2014 by Juri, and last modified on 07:30:49 11/05/2014.