Description: Vanessa and Shermie meet in a bar in Bangkok! There they break several public decency laws, nearly cause a riot, imbibe more alcohol than is technically capable of entering the human body at one time, briefly hallucinate the monster that will devour the world, and make out while standing on the tables topless, all while flagrantly ignoring the design intent of the combat code.
Bangkok, oriental setting. The city don't know what the city is getting. The creme de la creme of the fighting world in a show with everything but Fei Long.
Shermie kicks open the door to a temple that's really a bar and for her the pearls are free because she stole some guy's wallet while he was passed out in the gutter. She's here to find a God in this golden cloister. The Frenchwoman locks eyes on an incongruous redhead sitting on a stool. Lucky for her, the God's a she.
Vanessa feels a Shermie sliding up to her.
"Hey, Vanessa! Long time no see!" Shermie giggles. That's a bad joke. The popstar-turned-fighter hangs off of the boxer's shoulders, violating several rules of personal space. "It's been forever since I've seen you! How are you doing? Still hanging out with that Blue Mary and Terry Bogard? Such rough characters! I'll make you feel refined for tonight."
The fellow redhead eagerly takes the stool next to Vanessa, tapping two fingers on the countertop which she assumes will get the bartender's attention. She leans forward with anticipation.
Bangkok.
Vanessa is slumped halfway over the bar, moping about her backstory getting confusingly retconned or perhaps just inconsistently translated, and now the importance of her wedding ring is in an awkward state of flux, and the whole thing's just a mess, really. One elbow propped up on the bar, fingers loosely clutching a glass of something irrelevant, while the other lies flat across, and Vanessa stares off into the bar, blankly pondering her woes.
She senses Shermie about half a second before her personal bubble is thoroughly popped, arms wrapped around to dangle. "Uh?" she says, glancing overshoulder. "Shermie! Uh, yo." She wiggles her drink in a somewhat poor approximation of a wave. "What are you even doing here--"
Huh? "Well, when they're around," the redhead mourns, eyes rolling skyward. "They've been busy, and I know better than to ask questions." KIDS. /Really/. (Mary is fully 8 years her junior, she totally counts as a kid.)
She's released, and Vanessa's glass hits the countertop lightly, Vanessa glancing in Shermie's direction out the corner of her eyes. "Refined, huh?" asks the middle-class housewife-turned-boxer-with-several-public-indecency-and-disorderly-contact-charges.
Shermie is usually able to talk her way out of her public indecency charges.
The bartender, a hulking Thai man with a scarred face and a beer belly that goes on for almost as long as Shermie's cleavage, waddles over. He was not summoned by the finger tapping, but pretends that he was.
"I think I will get my friend," Shermie stops talking briefly to lean over and press her shoulder against Vanessa's. She is already drunk, like any good professional drinking competition contestant. The Frenchwoman assumedly is looking at the list of specials hung above the bar. It's hard to tell with the hair.
"I will get her that one!" Shermie gestures. The bartender grunts and waddles off.
"So how are things? Still being nice? We have to go hit a town with cuter men than-- oh! The drink, it is already here!"
A muscular, oiled up young man trots out carrying a tall drink with a flared top, filled with a sickeningly sweet looking pink liquid. Half of a peach is skewered on the lip of the glass. The bearer of this 'Shermie Spiral (into alcoholism)' sets it down before Vanessa, flexes his pecs, and then performs subsequent backflips until he disappears through the doors leading to the kitchen.
COMBATSYS: Shermie has started a fight here.
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Shermie 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Vanessa has joined the fight here.
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Vanessa 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Shermie
COMBATSYS: Shermie successfully hits Vanessa with Shermie Spiral.
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Vanessa 0/-------/----===|=------\-------\0 Shermie
Vanessa hums, while Shermie examines the specials hanging overhead, and asks, with her usual complete void of tact, "How can you even see with those bangs going on?"
The order is made despite Vanessa's musings, and Vanessa watches, unimpressed, when the thoroughly oiled young man trots out, sets a glass with half a peach on it in front of her, and finally starts paying some (small) amount of attention when he starts flexing, before vaulting away.
Vanessa sets her existing drink down, because it is magically empty. She squints at the new one, frowning sincerely. "Christ, that thing looks like it'll give someone diabetes," she muses, picking it up with her drinkin' hand. "Well, you know how it is," she says toward Shermie, absently, letting it sit there for a moment. "People to talk to, faces to smash in. Bars to trash." She gives a little grin to the barkeep, winking slyly, but offers no actul promiose that his bar is going to survive the night before supplying, "Yeah, the guys here are barely worth the airfare, but..." And then she grabs the drink more purposefully, and in the next three seconds, Shermie leaps forward, wraps her legs around her head, and humps her face.
Metaphorically, of course. Vanessa slams the drink down, eyes wide, and coughs, "Geeze! Shit, I haven't done the sweet ones in a while!" She shakes her head to try and get her brain chemistry to settle, and then grins a little looser, adding, "Well, if that's your style, the least I can do is pay ya back...hmm."
She leans back, one hand clutching the railing along the edge of the bar, to point up at the menu for a sec - and then flicks her fingers. "How about /that/ one?"
The barkeep, because Vanessa has been here before, sets down an almost offensively plain golden brown concoction about ten seconds later, a mixture guaranteed to dash a punch...to your sobriety!!
COMBATSYS: Vanessa successfully hits Shermie with Dash Puncher.
- Power hit! -
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Vanessa 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Shermie
"I am glad to see you are still so interested in men!" Shermie croons. The Frenchwoman kicks her legs idly, her designer boots thumping rhythmically against the bar. "I think we should go out, and make you feel better about life, maybe find some drunk American boys and... oh, drink's here!"
Shermie frowns. The drink is displeasing to her, aesthetically. She looks at Vanessa to make sure she sees the frown. Still, a drink is a drink, and Shermie loves being under altered states of consciousness. She tilts her head back and daringly takes a huge gulp, and immediately starts choking.
The (other) redhead nearly falls out of her seat, gagging. Maybe all those girly drinks she orders have made her forget what almost straight alcohol tastes like! Still, Shermie admirably perseveres, finishing the rest of the lowball glass meekly with tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Ah, um, Vanessa, that did not agree with me! You have so much more drinking experience; I fear I cannot keep up! I will have to honor you with something maybe more to your liking!"
Shermie claps her hands, whispers something to the bartender, and sits back. She is already wobbling. Eventually, the dour Thai man-mountain returns with a tiny little glass with something completely clear in it. It has a little umbrella sticking out of the side. The umbrella is pink. It is cute.
COMBATSYS: Shermie successfully hits Vanessa with Shermie Cute.
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Vanessa 0/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Shermie
"Eh," Vanessa says, flipping her wrist vacantly. "Idunno, sometimes fratboys break too easy."
She glances over when Shermie gives her that look, and wiggles her fingers teasingly. "C'mon!" she chirps. "All that sweet shit, it's a wonder those things're the only fat part."
And then Shermie nearly dies, and Vanessa laces her fingers together and lands her chin on the hammock, grinning slyly. "Oh, was that too much?" she laughs. "I guess it was kinda strong, for a rookie." And then Shermie manages to wobble to her feet and hiss something to the bartender, and a fine red eyebrow arcs to heaven. "More my liking, huh?"
She hums, as the drink appears. A little shot glass. With an umbrella. "Still with the umbrellas," Vanessa sighs. "Girl, I have got to get you trained proper," she says, picking up the shot, slugging it down, and then making a sound not unlike being punched in the throat, before falling out of her chair.
When the inevitable small squad of partygoing college students appears, she socks one, grabs his drink out of his limp hand, points at a second, has him pour it into the first, and blindly hands the concoction toward Shermie.
COMBATSYS: Vanessa successfully hits Shermie with Hook Punch.
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Vanessa 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Shermie
Shermie still coughs. It is a petite cough. She is surprisingly dainty considering her build.
"Miss Vanessa, your training might kill me! I do not think-- oh."
The Frenchwoman steels herself. She can do this. This is simple. The drink goes down, and then she starts coughing again. Shermie staggers from her chair, throwing the glass down. It shatters. "Agh, you horrible woman! You impugn my perfect breasts and ass for my taste in drinks! Why are you so mean to Shermie's supple build?!"
Shermie staggers toward the bar. Someone just ordered a row of shots for their wedding party. Heaving, the redhead sweeps them all up in her arms, and then begins throwing them one after another at Vanessa. There's like twenty of the things.
COMBATSYS: Vanessa counters Shermie Shoot from Shermie with Puncher Vision EX.
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Vanessa 1/-----==/=======|=======\==-----\1 Shermie
Vanessa is back on her...well, her knees, anyway, by the time Shermie has downed the concoction, and is groping around for that railing to grab on to when the glass hits the floor. "I'm not mean!" Yes she is. "I'm jus' sayin', is all, you keep drinkin' shit like that, your tits aren't the only thing that'll be dragging your back outta shape. Sugars, right? Go straight to your hips."
She hums, lazily, tilting her head and peering downward - actually leaning in at the hip to get a better view. "Hell, you're already in trouble."
She looks up just in time to see shot glasses fired toward her, and that boxing training kicks in - hands snap out and snag shots out of the air, then toss them back Shermie's way without Vanessa ever actually touching a drop. "In fact, have some more! You kids give me too much competition!"
In the face of an experienced drinker, a mere 21 year old like Shermie is outmatched in every way. Why, she only started a little over ten years ago! How can she match Vanessa's pure experience?
Shermie blearily catches the shots out of the air, attempting to down them. She is too drunk to realize that Vanessa is feeding them back to her. It's Shermie's turn, right? Of course it is! Otherwise she wouldn't be drinking! What a mean trick that Shermie will then use on someone else later.
"Agh, I, uh... Vanessa! You are too mean! I will prove to you that I am perfectly okay with my body! A proper self-image is important to a young girl!"
The Frenchwoman tries twice to get onto a stool and makes it the third time, using it as a springboard to get onto the countertop. There, she raises her arms. "Everyone! I am, as they say, too drunk! I will make poor life decisions in the form of removing clothing if you buy my friend here many drinks!"
All at once, infinite drinks of all sorts are thrust in Vanessa's face. Above her, Shermie rips off her bra and laughs like Cobra Commander.
JUST
AS
PLANNED
COMBATSYS: Shermie successfully hits Vanessa with Shermie Flash.
-* WILD HIT! *-
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Vanessa 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=------\-------\0 Shermie
Skill and cunning will overcome youth and vigor, every time! Is the thoery. But what about youth, vigor, /and/ cunning!?
Vanessa crows her triumph, arms crossing across her chest and grinning smugly while Shermie staggers. She ticks an eyebrow higher. "Confidence in that?" she boasts, because bluster is pretty much all a 34-year-old widow has against tight curves and enough cleavage to build a house on. "Well, I guess youth is for dreaming..."
She just watches Shermie clamber upwards, and doesn't really make a move...until she realizes what she's doing. "Wh--" Vanessa squawks, before she is OVERRUN, and she grunts, grabs a shot out of someone's grasping hand and slugs it down, knowing she cannot turn down /even this/.
Five minutes later Vanessa is more off the bar than on. Her tie is completely undone, hanging around her neck more like a suggestion than...than whatever the hell she usually wears a tie for. She peers at the ongoing infinity, and finally declares, "Hey! Boys!" as she levers her powerful arms up to slooooooooowly stand, or, rather, lean at a more eye-level degree. "Wanna see a trick?" she asks, grinning like a tiger, or perhaps more correctly, a cougar. She whips around, and then wobbles backward, catches herself against the railing, and stays there for thirty seconds. "hoookay," she decides, then...VAULTS over the bar, landing /on top/ of the bartender's shoulders.
Barely. She whacks her head against a ceiling light and it falls down, which she either doesn't notice or ignores; it's kind of hard to tell.
"GENTLEMEN!" she slurs, leaning her hands up against the rim of the bar. And looming over Shermie, naturally. "I...have...a CHALLENGE!"
And then she grips her shirt and rips it off, tossing it down on the bar lazily. Apparently the rumors about how she uses those suspenders are completely true. "You....ooo....ouuu...are gonna get stack /everything you can/ on that!"
And then she grins at Shermie, or more accurately five feet to Shermie's left. "And then my /buddy's/ gonna drink it all!"
The cry goes up.
COMBATSYS: Shermie auto-guards Vanessa's Puncher Finish!
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Vanessa 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 Shermie
Shermie stands proudly on the bar as if she were wearing something proper other than 'where did the top half of her outfit go.' It takes a special kind of personality and a lot of alcohol to just casually lounge around like that in front of almost a hundred people in some random quasi-tourist bar in Hong Kong. Wait, Bangkok. Where was she, again?
Probably Bangkok. That was the city in that one song. Sounds right.
"WHAAAAAAAAAAT?!" Shermie shrieks as Vanessa bounds up beside her and announces a challenge. Is a challenge even feasible at this point? Can it work like that? The Frenchwoman watches in absolute hair-covering-eyes-still shock as Vanessa's shirt falls to the bar.
Immediately there are so many drinks on it that they're just falling all over each other and everything is soaked and yet there's still enough to give Shermie alcohol poisoning. She reflexively gags.
IN THE OROCHI MINDSCAPE
"SHERMIE, THE BUTTERFLY EMERGES FROM THE COCOON."
"What?"
"THE APOTHESIS OF THE WORLD IS MY BIRTH"
"Drink all of this?"
"MY HATE IS THE POISON OF NATURE."
"I guess so."
AT THE BAR
Shermie explodes with lightning power. Her hands blur. She downs one drink after another. More and more people pile them on, but there is no stopping here. There is no calming the storm! THE STORM IS INSIDE HER.
IT IS KIND OF A SLUTTY STORM.
The Frenchwoman reaches down for the last drink. It is in a weird swirly glass that makes it look like there's much less alcohol than there actually is. Shermie presses forward, throwing an arm around Vanessa's back and pressing her close. She slams the drink into the other redhead's mouth.
"Thank you for showing me such an exciting night, Vanessa!" Shermie moans, delirious with Orochi-fused booze. "This is... my thanks!"
COMBATSYS: Vanessa counters Axle Spin Kick from Shermie with Parrying Puncher.
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Vanessa 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 Shermie
Vanessa watches approvingly as Shermie goes to town on the drink collection, her approvingly crossed arms a much more important thing to animate at this point, and finally hops off the bartender, because bars are easier to balance on than large Thai men. She wobbles a little, and then a lot, and then snares a hand out to grab the glass racks overhead to steady herself, laughing, "Oooo, it's /fun/ when you're off center!"
This is about when Shermie snakes an arm around her and slams a drink into her lips before she can finish processing the beginning of a gasp.
She somehow stops herself from swallowing, and instead uses the leverage to best effect: Surging forward and locking lips with Shermie long enough to get the booze back into the /other/ redhead's mouth.
When she comes up for air, she wipes her lip with a bare arm and laughs, "Haven't done that in a couple years!"
In Bangkok, two topless western women making out is a pretty unique sight! Well, the 'western' part, at least. Shermie and Vanessa wrestle with the drink in the most mortal kombat of ways that will never be seen in World Warrior or King of Fighters. This is true fighting. This is true struggle.
Shermie loses. The Frenchwoman staggers backward as if an alcoholic dagger had been pushed through her evil heart. She almost slips on the bar. The crowd roars in her ears. This is just like a concert! No, just like a fight! Wait, which was which? She gets the two confused so often!
"I wonder how long it's been since you've done THIS!"
Shermie leaps at Vanessa, knocking her off the bar. The two disappear on the other side for a dreadful moment.
COMBATSYS: Vanessa counters Shermie Carnival from Shermie with Puncher Vision.
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Vanessa 0/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Shermie
Vanessa manages to make out with a topless woman until the other staggers away from swallowing passed liquor, which Vanessa is going to go ahead and assume she also did at some point in college because at the moment she doesn't really remember, but it seems like the kind of thing she would've gotten up to. Still got it!
"You're not half bad," Vanessa offers, thumbs finding their way under her suspenders and snapping them against her abs with a twang. (The crowd cheers.) "Uhhh," she adds, looking down and around, wobbling uneasily. "...what were we even doing? WHOA!"
Shermie hollers a challenge and tackles her beneath the bar. There is a dreadful, breathless moment--!
And then Vanessa wobbles up from behind the bar, slamming her fist down on the countertop hard enough to crack it, as with her other hand she reaches about six feet to the left of her shirt. "About two years," Vanessa says, whiping what is probably not blood off her lip with her forearm.
COMBATSYS: Shermie can no longer fight.
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Vanessa 0/-------/=======|
Log created on 21:59:37 04/27/2010 by Vanessa, and last modified on 18:20:23 05/01/2010.