NFG Season One - Hot Metal Style

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Description: Team Metal's Djamila is minding her own business in Metro City's hottest boutique, Drippin' Style, when some of Team Blaze show up to bring their own brand of chaos to the city.

Earlier today, Djamila has been going hard at it in a gym in Metro City. She got permission from a "friend" until things were completely ready on Team Metal side. It has felt weird to come back to Metro, because it's where her father lives, but it won't stop her from being Djamila 2.0 in the tournament she wants to be. Now, after some training and a shower, she's heading toward a store called Drippin' Style. She deserves a new little something to feel good in.

As soon as she gets inside the store, the song 'paint it black' comes in her head. She's not sure why, but she makes her way around and touches things in the store. One might wonder how Djamila would know the colors just by touching. This is another mystery to put on her.

As she continues to check different clothes, she hums the song which is stuck in her now.

A young woman working there comes to her. "Do you need any help?" She asks her? But Djamila shakes her head no. "No, thank you." The girl looks at her weirdly until she recognizes her as Djamila. "Oh you're that girl." Djamila nods her head. "I am." The girl asks for an autograph. Djamila feels weird. She never really was asked that before. "Ok sure." She takes the pen and writes her names with a stylish 'D'. The girl seems happy. "Oh, thank you, you can pick a little something here free of charge." Djamila blushes. "You don't have to..." But before she can say more, the girl says. "I insist." Then she leaves the blind girl alone to continue her shopping, still wondering how she picks her clothes.

It's happy hour in Metro City or at least Hawksley Moore is feeling pretty happy this hour. He too has been training in the gym and he's feeling hyped for facing whoever will be his opponent in his next New Fighting Generation match. In the meantime though, he's decided to take a walk around the city. He's changed out of his gym clothing, showered and put on an oversized grey and black checked shirt that's left open to reveal a plain white t-shirt underneath. On his legs are a pair of faded blue jeans and on his feet, some black leather Doctor Martens with chunky soles.

As he makes his way through the crowded streets, he takes in the sights, sounds and smells of the city, comparing it to the walks he took around Southtown in the spring. Both cities are spectacular in their own way but something about this place calls to him and he's excited to be spending the next few months counting it as his home. He passes by 'Style Lab Beauty Salon' and 'Lewis Coffee' before reaching a store named Drippin' Style. As he glances towards their window, he happens to spot one of his fellow fighters through the glass. Knowing she won't be able to see him wave, he decides to head inside to bid her hello. It's been a while since they got to chat, brief exchanges in The Rumble aside.

"How's it going, Djamila?" he calls to her, his Irish brogue full of warmth. "You treating yourself to some new threads?"

At the sight of Hawksley, the shop girl rushes towards him, eager to add his autograph to her collection too. "I didn't know people still asked for these" he responds with a bemused expression, signing his name anyway. "Most people seem to prefer photos instead."

Djamila is still browsing the clothes. "Oh hey Hawksley. It has been a while. The rumble wasn't too kind on you. Hope you're doing ok. The first person I heard of headbutting a bomb." She chuckles. "Don't you go die, I want you around, a revenge match one day."

After a short moment, she then answers his question. "Yeah, I deserve it. What do you think of this light blue crop top?" She gives him a smile.

Which meanwhile, the girl is excited. She just got two autographs of NFG in like 5 minutes. It's her day. She also offer Hawksley the same deal. Before turning her head toward Djamila. "Oh I think that crop top would be great on you.." But then confusion fills her face. Wait, how does she even know it's light blue. But she doesn't dare ask. It sounds rude."

After another moment, "Thank you, that's kind of you." While waiting for Hawksley own opinion. "Are you also here to get yourself a little something? Maybe a shirt you won't want to remove?" She's simply teasing him on it though.

"I wasn't too kind to The Rumble either" the Irishman laughs. "It was a mutually destructive relationship. I'm not planning to die anytime soon though, so don't you be worrying about that. I've still got plenty of people I want to punch in the face and set on fire."

He reaches out a hand to finger the fabric of the crop top Djamila is displaying, nodding his head. "Yeah, it's hot in a cool way." He's no fashion fan but he thinks it seems cute enough. "It'll suit you, you should get it."

He's surprised by the generous gesture of the fighting fan in offering him a freebie. "That's grand, thanks cailin. I think I'll be getting myself a hat though rather than a shirt. I have a feeling I'll need one once the weather changes."

He starts rifling through a basket full of woolen ones, selecting a dark grey beanie and pulling it on to his head. "So are you happy to be back on Metal again?" he asks the Iraqui woman with interest.

"You weren't kind to the Rumble, I confirm. You kicked ass." She laughs. Hawksley was someone to look out for.

She grabs a white skirt. "Oh I am not a white skirt girl, but I think with the blue top, it will work out. So I think that will be my clothes of the day." She smirks. "But I won't ask you to give your opinion after changing in them. Otherwise people will think if you're not with Chevy or with Coco, than you're with me." She can't help but giggles. "You might have your sight on someone though, so could I. It's the beauty of things." She adds.

Cailin smiles. "You guys are nice, so I am nice back. It's only fair. The Rumble was so cool." She seems excited. She listens to Djamila saying they would think they are together, and she idly wonder if they are.

Djamila at least listens to Hawksley rifling around the hats. "So a hat guy. I don't think I knew that about you. That's cool."

She takes a moment to answer. "Oh yeah I got picked back by Metal. I am happy to be there. I fit there. I am sure you feel the same about Blaze. Correct me if I am wrong." She smiles. There is something different about her, like she was more calm in general now.

"Blue and white, like the sky and the clouds" the man muses, pulling the beanie from his head and running a hand through his short dark locks.

"I don't have my sights set on anyone" he responds, handing the hat to the starstruck sales assistant with a smile. She promply puts it in a bag and passes it back to him.

"I'm just taking things as they come and seeing what happens. It sounds like you may do though. Is it someone I know?" The Cork County fella seems curious, perhaps he's getting caught up in the gossipy nature of the circus that surrounds them all or perhaps he's just making conversation.

"Metal seems like a good fit for you. Blaze is for me too. I mean, I've got the t-shirt and everything. Seriously though, I'm sure it will all be grand. I got to hang out with one of my new teammates already and he's good fun so far."

"That's oddly poetic, Hawksley. I love it. You're not all fire and booze." Djamila grins.

As Hawksley mentions his lack of offical love life,but instead taking thing as they come, she says. "It's a good way to go about things." But then she fidgets and brings her things to Cailin, taking out her wallet to at least pay for the skirt. While she rings her items, Djamila hesitates, "I might. It's complicated. I don't really want to talk about it further." She ends up blushing.

Indeed when Djamila is done talking or not talking about it, Cailin charges her only for the skirt, which she pays happily. "Thanks babe.".

Her attention goes back to Hawksley. "Yeah, it's a good fit. We are where we are suppose to be." She smiles. "It's cool you started mingling with the new recruits. It's weird, but Metal go no new ones, just good people. I hope we can mangle too. Yeah?" She takes a deep breath. "Were friends, Hawksley, right?" She kinda ask out of the blue.

"Don't you know Ireland is a land of poets?" Hawksley asks Djamila. "I can't claim to have much to do with the reputation myself but I did once win second prize in a poetry competition at Saint Josephs. I wrote a poem about a horse."

He lets the subject of Djamila's potential romance slide. He can see she's feeling shy about it and it's not really his business anyway. He's happy enough to discuss his own relationship with her though. "Sure, we're friends" he confirms. "I'm friends with everybody me. Other than a few feckers back in Cork."

The Irishman starts idly browsing the rails. Some of the stuff here isn't bad and he can even afford it since he's got that new sponsorship deal for Lucky's Fiery Ale.

Djamila shrugs. "I don't know much about Ireland. I don't have a big education. My smart doesn't come from school." She admits. She doesn't seem to be embarassed about that. "Congrats on your poetric winning a second prize though. That's cool." She smiles.

She gets a bag for her stuff, grateful Hawksley drops the subject about her potential romance she would like to have. "I am glad we're friends. I was pretty heated after I was on fire. but you can't blame me." She laughs. "I still KOed you too. Just not hard enough. That bothered me for so long. I am cool now, and I am happy to call you a friend." She stretches and listens to what Hawksley is doing. "You think that orange shirt would fit you? Otherwise I could add one more things." She says to Cailin. "Sorry, I should have like bought everything at he same time." Cailin waves her hand dismissively. "It's all good. We're not in a big rush time today."

"There's no shame in that, so there isn't. I was shite in school, other than my award winning poem obviously. I couldn't wait to get out of the place."

It's good that Djamila won't be able to see Hawksley's expression, because he looks vaguely horrified at the idea of wearing an orange shirt. "Ah, I'm grand. I can get my own clothes, Djamila. He selects a dark green polo shirt and inspects the price tag.

"You seem to be a fan of orange yourself. Any particular reason for that?"

As they chatter, the store soundtrack starts playing a song by Hated R.




And so on and so on. The rumbles increase in force steadily. A rhythmic series of rumbling impacts that have all the subtelty of a T-Rex walking casually through the streets. The windows rattle. The shelves shake. The clothes rustle. Drinks are spilled and the *TOOOOMS* continue along with the sound of horns honking and people shouting in surprise.

There's a sound of tires squealing and horns blaring..followed by a that terrible noise of metal twisting and rending and bending and glass shattering. THe *TOOOOMS* come to a sudden stop though shouts of surprise remain and warble through the area along with the drone of horns and the sound of metal continuing to bounce and tumble.

As people in the store rush to the windows to look out...what would greet them is an absurdly huge, towering figure with the front end of a semi slammed into him. The cab wrapped and warped around his shouldrs and gigantic arm while the behemoth stands unmoved and unyielding. Surprised even.

"Whoa, whoa, so sorry!" his deep voice rumbles. "I thought this was being..ah..sidwalk!"

The door chimes and a shadow seems to loom dangerously in it. A presence, somehow both massive and utterly, utterly vile enters the shop. An inhuman presence of naught but malice and greed.

Oddly, who enters is Miss September. For those who do not remember, Miss September is a Chinese woman in her early to mid twenties with short, jagged and messy black hair, and a suern, almost sour expression. She's dressed like an Office Lady. White blouse with the sleeves rolled up to the middle of her forearms, black pencil skirt, matching hose and low and sensible heels.

She arrives in the instant before the commotion outside, peering over her shoulder in a way that seems far too blase about it.

Her eyes twinkle just a bit in some kind of amusement.

She turns back, regarding the duo silently. Oh no, she's one of those.

"I love your accent." Djamila says. She's not mocking him. "Well congrats on poem. Maybe you will read it to me someday. If you want. No pressure."

Djamila ends up chuckling about something or other before moving toward the shirt, as Hawksley doesn't want it. "Orange is my color. I look great in orange. Anybody who doesn't agree can go hang. I know how good I can look." She grins.

Then she's about ot say something about the music, as she seems to really like it, but there is a rumbling outside, and that's very distractive. Djamila doesn't go to the window to look, but if he appears in front of the window a moment, she does seem like she starts, though it's impossible.

Then she shivers from something cold. It was there before the rumble started, but the rumble was big enough to distract her. She doesn't mention anything though. She just get the orange shirt. She does give a squeeze to Hawksley left arm, as if to convey something. But what... That's quite unclear.

"I can't remember the poem" Hawksley admits somewhat sadly. "It was something about a horse being lovely."

Miss September's entrance on the scene, though memorable in its own way, is downright discreet compared to the kerfuffle going on outside the clothes store. Hawksley drops the polo shirt he was holding on the ground as he moves towards the window to get a look at what's going on. It's far from the only fashion garment that ends up on the ground, as hangers fly off rails and scarfs flutter to the floor.

"What the feck?" the Irishman wonders, ignoring the comforting touch from Djamila to start wandering towards the doorway to get a better look at the behemoth. There's something about him that seems familiar. Wait! Isn't that one of the new Blaze sponsors?

He steps on to whatever space he can find on the sidewalk and places his fingers in his mouth, blowing out a loud whistle. "Hey, Kongou! What the feck are you doing, fella?" He's then striding towards him, shopping bag swinging

"Why hello!"

Kongou's full attention turns away from the twisted wreck and the, by some miracle, somehow unhurt truck driver, who opens the door to the cab and staggers from it, falling down to the pavement clearly dizzy. The full glower of his gaze falls onto the approaching Hawksley and he grins, broad expression pulling back into a wide toothed affable and friendly look.. If one can ascribe such a thing to him. There's still something not -quite- right about him. As if being a walking mountain range wasn't enough.

"Hawksley, isn't it? I have been wanting to meet you! I had heard you were nearby but I'm afraid that when I...uh...arrived.. It was in the middle of this..what is it called.. Street."

With a groaning sound of metal dislodging and twisting away, Kongou walks forward, crushing his way through the remnants of the front of the cab which then simply falls fully to the ground, sliding forward into a full on wreck that's no longer supported by the goliath's torso.

"Hey, I thought he was blue?" whispers one onlooker.

"He is!" insists another. Other various arguments break out but Kongou merely bears down closer to Hawksley.

"I bring you greetings and welcome you to Team Blaze." he continues, "You uh...wouldn't happen to know where everyone else is, do you? I suppose I've been a little lost.."

For the moment, September and Djamila escape his notice, as if he's really only able to focus on so much at once.

Miss September either doesn't notice or doesn't care about the gesture Djamila makes towards Hawksley. Given who is in the pilot's seat right now, it's most likely the latter. Hawksley races out the door to meet the behemoth, and she just sighs, turning around and clicking her way out after him.

She peers up and up and up at Kongou as he dislodges the wreckage, puting her hands on her hips. "Really. You're going to make us look bad. Who's going to pay for these damages? Both to the team's reputation and the actual money?"

Her words are stern, but there's something almost amused in a sick way in her tone, but it might not be real.

She buys the orange shirt from Cailin who is not really paying attention, so she simply leaves enough oney on the counter. Then she figures it's tiume for her to leave. There was too much unknown in this that aren't on her side.

She ponders a short moment, before she makes her outside to Hawksley. She dodges everything that might get in the way or trip her. "I am going to go Hawksley. This is somewhat your moment now, not mine." She steps on her tippy toes, leaning forward and kisses his cheek. "Thanks my friend. Goodluck in your next fight." She smiles, gives a smile to the big man, and to the lady, who as far as she can tell, are with Hawksley. Then she makes her way out, walking in the distance, with a back and with her staff.

She smiles happily. It was nice to see a friend, now she's ready for what is to come.

Hawksley wasn't expecting such a warm welcome but he's happy to accept it. "Yeah, that's right. I'm Hawksley Moore and I've kinda been on Team Blaze all along, so perhaps I should be welcoming you" he suggests to Kongou.

His face forms into a smile, as it seems the threat (if not the mess) has been dealt with. He holds out a hand that will seem tiny to the titanic creature in front of him. "I've only met Braun so far, other than Mitsuru but that was back in Sunshine City. I'm not sure where she is now."

He glances back briefly to check on Djamila, which is when he gets a closer look at the woman styled like a secretary, who has joined them on the street. He's pretty sure that's another one of his new sponsors. What are the chances?

"I'm not convinced how glowing our reputation is" Hawksley jests. "By the way, do you happen to know where we're going to be training and staying? he asks the mentor known as Miss September.

Djamila's chaste kiss captures his attention and when he realises she is leaving, he pulls her towards him, giving her a one armed hug. "Good luck yourself. Unless your opponent is me of course."

Leaning over, the giant lowers his hand and accepts Hawksley's offer for a shake, comical though the attempt is. It perhaps has the strange pressure or sensation of an earthquake or tsunami deciding to say 'hello' to you.

He actually manages the handshake with practiced ease while that affable grin remains on his features. "Ah, right, right. Yes. -I- am the one that is new." he confirms. "You are correct. Perhaps instead i should say...welcome to the -new- Team Blaze, yes?"

Evidence of this makes its presence known as the other newer sponsor arrives and addresses the messy situation. Kongou straightens back up and turns his attention to her. The pressure of his attention lifting from Hawksley and falling to the woman. "Are you not rich? You look rich. You must be rich."

Kongou's attention settles fully on her. His lightly glowing gaze shimmering as he blinks ..and then he pauses. Fundementally a being of the supernatural. A force of nature forced into this exagerrated image of the manifestation of brute strength and as such he has eyes that see and feel more then others and yet such is not his focus or field and so it is more peripheral then a dedicated effort or talent.

But it's impossible to miss that 'something' around Miss September. Something that makes him go. "Huh! How interesting!"

And so with that he decides, "Yes you are rich. As to reputation..." that part causes him to think more and he then decides, "Simple. We make this ..what is word...AWESOME! Give them something to be excited about! .. But first..yes.. A place to meet and train is in order. We must assist good Hawksley in reaching his potential!"

He pauses once more and then thumbs at the now distant Djamila and smiles. "....Girlfriend?"

"I'm working on it," Miss September replies coolly. "Bureaucracy is ... An irritant. I am in the process of purchasing and renovating a sizeable warehouse to be used for the team as living quarters and training areas." She gives Kongou the eye. "I believe you may even fit inside."

If she's worried about Kongou's awareness of the Things going on with her, Miss September just seems unflappable.

She looks to Hawksley. "While I am largely with this team as a bureaucratic expert and for administrative purposes, I am also a capable fighter and will be helping with the physical training." She seems to loom again, reality itself seeming to darken around her. "I will not go easy on any of you. Be prepared to sweat and bleed for me."

Hawksley can't help but stare at the exchange of greeting between the two males. The feeling is just weird, like nothing he has ever experienced before. The sight is strange too, it's almost like his hand is vanishing into the giant's grip.

"I accept your welcome to the New Team Blaze gladly" he replies with an enthusiastic nod, removing his hand now and rubbing at his rough, tanned flesh.

"She does look like she might be rich" he agrees with Kongou. "Though you can't always tell these things. Fella lived in my cousin's village went around like he'd not a euro to his name. Turned out he'd only gone and won the lottery and not told a soul. Then there's my sister Sharon. She shops in Penneys but you'd swear she was wearing Chanel or one of those fancy fashion labels. She just knows how to put things together, so she does." He gives an appraising look to Miss September. "I think this one's the real deal though."

His dark eyes follow Djamila as she disappears into the distance. "Not my girlfriend no. I don't have one of those. She's one of the fighters on Team Metal. Knows her way around a pole. Up it too."

"A big feck off warehouse would be grand. We can get this fella and Zog in and have huge spaces to train in. I'd be happy to have you try and get me to sweat and bleed there" the Irishman informs the female sponsor, seeming more excited than fearful of the idea.

Well it was hard to miss -that-. Kongou's eyes widen abit, both eyebrows lifting up as he listens to Miss September and then watches her interaction with Hawksley. His grin remains. He seems just as unflappable but instead now a burning curiousity has ignited in him as he studies her but when Hawksley takes it all in stride, the giant smile seems to change slightly. It's not that he was faking the friendliness and easy going demeanor before but a touch more sincerity enters in as if Hawksley weathering of that aura such as it was...was impressive.

"Oh hoh. mysterious and dangerous. I love it!" he finally declares. "We will surely make quite the spectacle out of you all. Now then."

The truck driver and others have cleared out a circle around the trio. No doubt waiting both for city services, such as they are in Metro City, to arrive to handle the accident. Cameras are clicking and recording. Camera phone lights falling upon Kongou's form as if this were a sound stage for some suited kaiju flick. "Now then." he rumbles, "I will make ammends by taking this to the famed Scrap Yard I have heard about."

Overhearing this, the truck driver gasps out, "Hey wait!" But Kongou has already reached down to seize hold of the bottom of the wrecked cab and with a groan of metal and spray of oils, begins hefting it up as if it were little more then a beachball.. "I will find this warehouse, yes. By the way, you should come to my World Warrior match! Consider it..extra credit. Being able to view championship battles up close and perhaps get something autographed by Athena!"r
There is a horrible sound once more. Metal compressing in like an accordion as Kongou squeezes, balling the metal up bit by bit with all the thought and effort of crushing an empty bag of chips. He nods in approval as the truck driver gapes in a panic.

"Come." he says towards the driver while starting to step away. "Let us go so that I may make ammends."

Miss September, who is SECRETLY Vega possessing Xiayu's body lets her expression slide back to neutral. She has a brutal case of Resting Bitch Face. She shakes her head as Kongou begins to treat the wreckage as if it were made of paper. She makes a note not to fight him. Not in this body, anyway. In his own body, well. What is a natural phenomenon to a god?

Miss September would probably get squashed.

She watches him lumber away for a moment before she turns on her heel and clicks off in the opposite direction. Where's she going? Probably to sign more papers.

Log created on 17:17:38 09/05/2023 by Hawksley, and last modified on 19:54:59 09/06/2023.