Description: It's finally arrived. The battle between fire and water that the fans and the fighters themselves have been waiting for is about to commence. It seems like it will be a friendly affair with warm words exchanged but then Djamila and Coco show up to muddy the waters and even Abigail himself puts in an appearance. Will everyone be left in one piece or is someone about to get demolished at the scrapyard?
Abigail's Scrap Metal. At the start of this whole New Fighting Generation thing, Chevy had envisioned herself standing here, in the home turf of a man who had transcended human limitations. Some may see it as a scrapyard -- but to the shadetree mechanic, it represents a world of infinite possibilities: an actualization of any number of dreamlike possibilities. At a big-box retailer, you can buy anything that's for sale -- but at a scrapyard, you have the potential to find anything that ever -was- for sale.
It was hard for Chevy -not- to romanticize about the place. In her reckoning, everything useful would be precisely catalogued and archived -- nothing of -true- value would be tossed aside or discarded. And even now, she's smiling like a kid in a candy store as she walks from one stack of miscellaneous parts to the next. Her sky blue eyes can glean order from the chaos, even without a guide.
She's just lucky that the league had selected this place as a host -- if not for that, it might have been highly unlikely that her first potential sponsor would have let her in. Miss Beaumont still feels remorse for having turned down their gracious invitation, so many weeks prior.
Standing here just reminds her of how long ago it was, that she'd been standing in a bar with both Abigail himself and Hawksley Moore -- talking about what a thrill it was to be a part of this NFG venture. She glances down at her sleeves -- stitched and mended from her battle with Zarine not so long ago -- and pulls at the denim, realizing just how far she's come. Back then, she'd been paralyzed with uncertainty -- wanting to talk to everyone simultaneously. Now, she's confident, more sure of herself.
The 'girl next door' is ready to take that next step. The redhead holds her pole with both hands in front of her. Buckets swing slowly back and forth on either end, water swishing about. She'd wanted this fight all this time -- and even missed out on seeing Hawksley in the Rumble due to the cruel fate of point scoring. And now, it's here.
She stands at one corner of a rough square set aside in the midst of the scrapyard, cranes hovering just off to the side. It's not a hard boundary -- the real 'boundaries' of the fight are the stacks of discarded cars and their parts. There's a non-zero risk of being buried alive in a landslide of twisted metal. Y'know, no pressure.
Chevy smiles. She'd gotten here early. She's had her chance to look around. And now she's eager to see her opponent -- and if it's not too awkward, maybe even catch up with what's occurred since the last time they'd seen each other.
Hawksley has already been here a while. Arriving at the scrap metal yard even earlier than Chevy, he'd settled himself on the hood of a battered black Chevrolet Colorado and pulled out a six pack, which he's steadily working his way through. As he sips the amber liquid he looks out across the harbor, enjoying the view on this clear, mild day.
He's dressed in his usual fighting attire of well-worn blue jeans and white sneakers, his tanned skin glowing in the warmth of the afternoon sun. He's looking forward to today and not just because there's a brawl to be had. He's missed Chevy these last few weeks and he hasn't had a chance to catch up with her since the New Fighting Generation circus moved to Metro City.
He watches the redhead when she arrives, weaving her way through the cranes and crushed cars. She's looking more polished in her new denim outfit but her smile shows him she's still the same old Chevy. Sliding off the truck, he starts to make his way over to her, calling out to her as he moves.
"Well fancy seeing you here, cailin. You looking for a punch in the face?"
Despite the threatening words, there's a bright beaming smile on his face and once he's close enough to her, he will pull her in for a hug if she allows it.
"Have you been doing alright? I was happy to hear you got to keep Ichika and Buck with you. Blaze is kinda crazy. I mean, even crazier than it was before."
He laughs. "And look at you, top of the leader board. I reckon I've got a battle on my hands today."
Abigail's Scrap Metal may be a pilgrimage site for some and a place to fight for others, but for Constance Coalbridge, it is currently, to her grave chagrin, home. Double-booked as both a battle venue and a residence for Team Frost for reasons that the financially-endowed foreign filly cannot quite comprehend, the yard provides an unfortunate plethora of purposes for the posh purple-haired pugilist to remain in its vicinity. She has even (you may shudder to know) been forced to make use of the shared living space for both sleep and showering since her personal trailer was mistaken for a designated target and destroyed by Abigail and company during a recent Team Frost community event. The local junkyard dogs even terrorized her poor binturong until she gave them a very stern talking to.
Now, though, she's just finished feeding the last of the near-feral mutts a vegan steak. The massive mongrel scarfs the cleverly-disguised plant matter down with surprising gusto, and as he does, Coco coos, "Good boy. See? There's no need to eat my bearcat. Mummy will bring you all another one of these each in the morning."
The first dog to have received a fake-steak, having finished gorging himself, slowly eyes the one who's just gotten his, lets out a low growl, then lunges, trying to steal the steak right out of the other mutt's mouth.
Just as swiftly, Coco narrows her eyes, and a deadly glint flashes in her silver irises as she focuses on the cantankerous canine.
Coco locks eyes with the vicious dog, who suddenly releases the steak as something passes unseen between them.
"Bad doggie! Time. Out."
Whimpering and yelping, the formerly-aggressive bulldog nearly loses its balance as it skitters back under a tin lean-to and cowers.
Nodding with satisfaction, Coco turns to wander over to where some seating (mainly in the form of car hoods, lawn chairs and stacks of tires) has been arranged for spectators. She has a deck chair set up beneath a large beach umbrella and a cooler full of grape soda waiting for her, but, after fetching one of the bottles, diverts to instead sit on the hood of an old Lincoln Continental, from which she can get a view of the exchange going on between Hawksley and Chevy from a distance as she sips her icy drink.
By pure coincidence, she happens to be wearing a wide-collared white Ford t-shirt and designer cutoffs over what appears to be a purple bikini - the same clothes that she wore during her match with Chevy a few weeks ago in Sunshine City. She slides on a pair of shades, then gives Hawksley and the hayseed a little flutter of her fingers.
Meanwhile, Captain Morgan comes scrabbling up over a scrapheap to greet the pair, a yellow bandana around his neck and a blue Boy Scouts of America cap on his head, for some reason.
The scrap metal place was bigger than she'd thought! Chevy hadn't even thought to scout around for -people-. But it does make sense that she would have a bit more, well, -reverence- for such a place than many. She was, after all, low-key keeping an eye out for parts of a certain make and model of car as she cruised the stacks. Mission priorities and all. But, not having found the parts, she supposes she can make time to ask a Mr Abigail later.
The point is -- right now, she's treated to a handsome sight of a much different nature. There's no hiding the redness that swells in her cheeks upon catching sight of her freshly-tanned opponent. Or the smile that welcomes him closer.
"Eh, I'm lookin' to avoid one if at all possible! But if I gotta take one I'd just as soon it come from you."
She's delighted to exchange a hug with Hawksley -- a lot has changed, and she's happy for his sake above all others. Of course, she'd stick close to him, and she'd still be grinning cheerfully as he pulls back. Either she's blissfully unaware of Coco's presence -- or past the point of letting that bother her!
"Oh, been doin' great! I got plenty of time to train with mentors -- learned some new tricks, got some new duds..." She spreads her arms, giving Hawksley a half-twirl as she shows off her new custom attire from Shermie. And all of its custom team branding. "Cain't let Ichika have -all- the Thunder," she adds with a wink and a grin.
"Oh, if you get bored you should drop by and see the place, it's amazing! I'm sure we can talk the guards into letting you in..."
Guards? Well, in her case, a yellow imp has been running around the place. Chevy tosses a glance his way -- at the moment, Dodge is high atop a stack of fenders, training a 4K camera on the fighters in question.
Still -- the notion of -Chevy- being at the top of -any- leader board is a novelty she hasn't gotten used to. Her blush may have faded from before, but it's back in full force as she rubs the back of her neck. "Aww, that... that was just luck of the draw in the Rumble," she explains with a laugh. "But... nah. I'll do what I can to make it a challenge for you. Wouldn't want anyone thinkin' I went easy on you!"
As she twists just so, she happens to hear Coco shouting at a dog. Her smile falters, for just one moment... as she steps in a little closer to Hawksley. Speaking so that only he can hear.
"Oh, and... I'm glad you managed to clear the air a bit in your podcast. I ain't said nothin' an' I warn't goin' to, but."
She offers a nervous laugh, looking up into Hawksley's eyes.
"I'm guessin' things've been shakin' out alright for ya though? Have you gotten to train with your team at all?"
Hawksley happily hugs Chevy, his beaming smile only flickering slightly when he spots Coco. It's not that he isn't pleased to see the purple haired posh girl, it's just he can't be certain if she's looking for trouble. Her attire doesn't do much to diminish his concerns.
These thoughts are chased away by the arrival of Captain Morgan and the Blaze brawler bends down to greet him before scooping him up in his arms. "You remember Chevy don't you, Morgy? She's the nice lady who gave you the grapes."
He gives the woman in question an appraising look as she talks about her new look. "I did notice the threads" he says with an approving nod. "I'd say they're a real hit. I bet that mean a lot from a fashion icon like me." He laughs at his own expense, fully aware that he's more famous from what he doesn't wear than what he does.
"I'd love to come and hang out at the Thunderdome. Do you play Tina Turner songs there?" he wonders. "I'm not sure the guards will like the look of me though, I'm a pretty dodgy sort and speaking of suspect characters, yeah, I've been hanging out with my Blaze buddies. Braun and I have trained together and Zog and Kongou put me through my paces."
Braun and Hawksley actually just shared a drink together and Zog battered the boxer all around Blaze headquarters whilst Kongou looked on. Still though, it's more interaction than the lad got with his team back in Sunshine City.
"I'm sure you'll be plenty of a challenge for me, Chevy" Hawksley comments with a wink. His dark eyes then meet her blue ones, as she comes closer to talk of more confidential matters. "I knew you wouldn't say anything" the man murmurs. "It was about time I did though."
The crowd are starting to arrive now, finding what seats they can in the scrap yard on the car hoods, lawn chairs and stacks of tires. Excited chatter breaks out as they anticipate the match ahead.
She remembers this place as she comes in to check the match that's bound to happen today. She had fun here when she destroyed a car and spent time with some of Team Frost's sponsors (especially Abigail) as well as others. Today, she's wearing a sky blue top and a white skirt ending mid-thigh. She's certainly not here to fight. She's here to cheer in one.
She is ready for a great fight. Both Chevy and Hawksley are certainly awesome fighters. This is going to be one hell of a match. She can't wait to see them both in action.
She's here for Hawksley, nothing against Chevy. She's been great. But she just made it here, especially for him. She settles somewhere where she won't bother either fighters or anyone else, for that matter.
To herself, she thinks, "Come on, Hawksley! You can do this!" She is excited to be here and for what's to come.
"Well, well! Two of the ones that kept slippin' through my fingers. Maybe I oughta lock the gates if I wanna finally hold onto ya. You know, as many fights as keep gettin' held here I oughta ask for some extra favors if there's ever another draft..."
Abigail's deep rumbly voice cuts through the air as the massive mechanic trundles forward, throwing his proverbial 'sponsor weight' ...and literal weight ... around to get closer to the speaking fighters just before the match starts. He's visage is hidden by a great welding mask and his Mad Gear skullprint tee-shirt shows more oil stains then usual , straining to the near tearing point against the landmass like movements of his bulk. He smells of machinery, grease, sparks and full on fire as if he'd been clanging away in the garage and only just now deigned to show his presence as the match prepares to begin.
"Regular stars and darlin's. Lookit you both. All friendly and close like. LIke you been through hell and high water t'gether and aren't about ot take each other apart or somethin'.." he rumbles, tone dripping with a sort of affable sarcasm which is made more apparant as he reaches up and lifts his welding mask up to reveal his broad pit-bull adjacent face,. death metal makeup crinkling a bit as his eyes squint and then his jowels slowly pull into a big full toothed grin.
"You two about to make it entertaining? If so I might even watch and add some colorful commentary...."
Captain Morgan! Chevy hadn't noticed the little guy at first, but she gives him a headruffle once he's safely lifted to her level.
She seems more than amused by Hawksley calling himself a fashion icon -- covering her mouth so it doesn't sound too out-of-place for her to snort-laugh. "Well, you -are- trendsetting," she admits, as her hand trails down to cup around her chin. "That -does- mean a lot to me! I'm glad you like it!" She thinks for a moment, and adds, "Momma said it'll keep the others from swipin' my clothes." Which is funny to her, since the only people her size are Lyraelle -- who wouldn't be caught dead in Chevy's outfit aside for comedy purposes -- and... Hated R. Who she still hasn't met, to her regret.
But... while lost in that particular (slightly disturbing) thought, Hawksley springs the Thunderdome question on her.
And she stares at him, like a deer in the headlights, for all of two full seconds. Tina Turner? What's she got to do with--
Chevy's eyes widen. The lightbulb just lit up.
She doubles over laughing, curling one hand over her face (and brushing past the furry binturong! Sorry, little guy!) as she bumps her head against Hawksley's shoulder, clapping him on the back.
"Oh... my... -gosh-... how hain't I ever thoughta that? That is so -perfect!-"
Chevy pauses a moment to wipe tears from her eyes from the laughter, shaking her head as she reluctantly withdraws.
"Now how warn't I gonna guess you'd know that movie too? I swear you're the spittin' image of my Paw in every way, that was our favorite flick together..."
It takes her a few moments to spool down from that. And she draws in her breath, giving Hawksley's shoulder one more light clap. "Oh man. Man. Braun ain't no -joke-, I done seen him fight Buford and Kenzo... I'm glad you're gettin' some scrappin' partners!" She laughs, glancing aside for a moment. "It's been a little tough findin' time to catch up with the others lately. But I know they're doin' alright, thankfully..."
She grins, as she acknowledges Zog and Kongou. "... Dear word, those guys are gigantic! How d'you even know you're -scratching- them? Haha..."
There is a shared moment, voices kept low, making it harder for prying ears to hear. "Aww," she notes quietly. "I ain't one to give up on promises. I'm..."
She looks down for a moment -- catching sight of the charm on his sneaker laces. There's a moment where her breath starts to catch in her throat. But it's just -one- moment... before she lifts her blue eyes to meet Hawksley's.
"I'm glad things worked out the way they did. Even with the roadbumps, I guess."
... Quiet time ends with a call from the crowd. And a familiar voice... cheering for Hawksley. And -not- the voice she was most prepared to deal with, if the vein popping on her forehead is any indication.
There was a moment of intense hardness in her expression. But as she draws in her breath, she looks back up to Hawksley with a resolute smile.
"I s'pose we got us an audience now, huh?"
Chevy bumps against Hawksley's shoulder -- this time, with her knuckles. "Let's make it a good one!"
It's just at that moment that Abigail starts making a ruckus in their general direction. And Chevy breaks into a more open smile as she nods to Hawksley, giving Captain Morgan one more pat before stepping away to give the pair some distance.
His words seem to light a fire in her. In a good way! She answers back: "Hey, big guy! Tell you what -- I'm scoutin' out parts for a nineteen-seventy ess-ess, four-fifty-four... got any of those? Maybe we can cut a deal o' some kind..."
As soon as she says that, she catches sight of Coco giving her a finger-twiddly wave. Wearing a Ford T-shirt. And that little purple number, probably. Seated on a Lincoln Contintental -- the same make that she and John Doe had had trouble beating up on in the early, early bonus stage. Specially targeted to piss her off.
It might have worked.
It might not have.
"Oh, hey Coco! Looks like laundry day, ha!"
Up until this point, the hydromancer had been carrying her pole either in front of her, or -- as when she'd been close to Hawksley -- by her left side. Now, as she jogs to give Hawksley some room, the buckets are swinging back and forth a bit more. She might have been shy about the words 'TEAM', 'THUNDER', and her own name of 'Chevy' in applique on her denim jeans before. But she's certainly not -now- -- not with all the eyes on her. Each set of eyes had some part in helping her reach this current state. And the bespoke look from Shermie -really- puts a bow on the 'Chevy' she's become now. The final package.
Combined with that little charm she'd given Hawksley, and all the time they'd spent together...? It's picture-perfect.
When Chevy turns back around to face him, she's as ready as she'll ever be. The water in her buckets gives its own little splashes of encouragement.
"C'mon, Hawksley. I hope you're ready... 'cause I sure am!"
COMBATSYS: Chevy has started a fight here.
Her life and rings at her with the voice on low, telling her her fight is about to happen. "Oh, already, I thought. My bad." She shakes her head. At least Hawksley knows she was there for him.
She goes toward one of the people handling NFG and she talks low with them. "Can you give this to Hawksley after the fight?" She shows them a pendant. "And let them know I expect them to give it back once in the tournament. I have a feeling we will fight there against one another." She also hands them a bit of money." Thank you. I appreciate it." They nod again.
Djamila walks away, waving to Abigail in the process, but whether she knows she won the contest, she still doesn't go to him. She's just happy to see him again. Then she walks away, her escort taking her to a car not so far from there, and away they go for her fight, which will not be too long from now.
Coco was apparently waiting for Chevy to take notice of her, her smile broadening beneath her shades as the farm girl fires off a shot about her current state of attire.
"Oh, you know, when in Rome," she says with a shrug, holding up one hand with palm up while the other keeps hold of her drink. "Honestly, I just thought I'd wear something I didn't mind getting wet. We all know what a mess you like to make, don't we? I could've just worn the bikini, but it's a touch chilly, and I wouldn't want to distract anyone."
She gives a wink toward Hawksley before making a quick bird-like whistling sound. When she does, Captain Morgan stops basking in his own celebrity within the NFG and turns around to hurry back to his 'mummy,' hopping up on the hood next to her. She picks him up and sets him down in the lounge chair, then takes a bunch of grapes from the cooler to give to him before sitting back down on the hood.
"Well I'm sure I'd be voted the most stylish man in Ireland if it wasn't for that Cillian Murphy fella" Hawksley jests jovially. "He's from Cork you know, like myself."
He seems at ease with the shoulder bumping and back clapping, being the tactile lad he is and responds with a ruffle of Chevy's red hair as her head comes into contact with him.
"Your Paw was a man of fine taste, Chevy and brought you up well. I reckon we'd have gotten on grand. I'm sorry I never got to meet him. We could have had a booze and a brawl together."
Morgy is continuing to crawl over and claw Hawksley's chest and makes little chuckling sounds as he's given some attention from Chevy too.
"It's pretty much like a bachelor party over at Blazin' headquarters. I've seen no sign of Genie and Ayala is like one of the lads. Braun is totally into her by the way. Laurel I've never met but I wouldn't mess with her from what I've seen.
He follows the direction of the farm girl's gaze as she notices the charm still in pride of place on his sneakers and when she looks back at him, he's ready with a warm smile. "There's very few roads that don't have a few bumps in them. We're both standing here on this beautiful Autumn day having a lovely chat and now we get to beat each other up, what could be better?"
His eyes twinkle as he says the words and he keeps his gaze on his opponent to be until Abigail makes his arrival. "You need to get a better grip then fella" he fires back at the big guy. "I'd have been glad to have you teach me a thing or two." He looks around the scrapyard, pondering its choice as a fighting venue. "It's your own fault you know. This is the most fun of all the team bases if you're looking for a scrap. You know, literally."
He bounds over to Abigail, offering his hand for a shake. "Chevy and I have been through some stuff together but that won't stop me trying to smack her around or her me. So don't you worry, fella. You'll be entertained."
As Morgy makes his way back towards Coco, Hawksley looks towards her. "I notice you came dressed for the occasion, Coco Pops" he comments with a shake of his head. "Sometimes I think you're a bigger troll than me."
He sees Djamila has come to support him again too but before things have even got underway, she's back on her feet. "Leaving so soon?" he calls after her departing form and then he turns back to Chevy with a shrug. "I guess you can't please them all."
As he starts to edge closer to the hydromancer he casually takes a silver flask from the pocket of his jeans. "I'm ready" he responds before taking a swig and then setting it alight, blowing the fire towards the flame haired fighter!
COMBATSYS: Hawksley has joined the fight here.
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Hawksley 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Chevy
COMBATSYS: Chevy parries Hawksley's Hedonism!
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Hawksley 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Chevy
The mosntrous hot-rodder folds his arms and then reaches a hand up to rub at the rough hewn beard he'd been gorwing out of late. He's been looking more like a Death Metal paint wearing version of Bluto in recent days.
"Yeeaaaaah..." he rumbles under his breath as he thinks before his eyes finally light up just a touch more as he returns his full gaze to Chevy, "I might be able to do somethin' for ya there..." His eyes narrow a touch as he grins again, "Let's see how well ya do here....and we can talk."
Win and get some free auto parts perhaps? It may be a tempting prize. An additional motivator for her perhaps!
"You can scrap here anytime!" he then adds, turning towards Hawksley cheerfully and accepting the handshake. "That engine of yers is constantly running red hot! This is the perfect place for ya to push it over the redline even further!"
With the match set to begin, Abigail clears the way for them and retreats back out of the immediate area that had been carved out for the combatants and brings his towering frame closer to where Coco lounges, turning back to face the brawl as it breaks into action and resting both of his massive hands against his hips as he looks on.
As the first strikes begin, lighting the scrapyard up with bursts of flame, his deep voice bellows - the volume likely to annoy Coco given his proximity to her: "Let's see how much horsepower you two really have!"
Chevy grins back at the comparison to Cillian Murphy.
"Eh, him? He ain't bad, I s'pose, but he's no 'Hawksley Moore.'"
With one hand needed to hold her staff up, she can't make the proper dramatic 'air quotes' with both hands -- but she does lean back to give the statement all the faux gravitas it deserves. Though, in all actuality, she'd never given the actor much of a thought.
She does appreciate to the hair-ruffling and the kind words for her Paw. Both stir up some blood activity just under the thin skin of her freckled cheeks, naturally.
"Aww, you're too kind. I know he'd be just tickled to meet you."
Chevy seems glad for Hawksley's sake that he's been able to spend time with more than one member of his team, this round. Her eyes widen when he spills the tea on Braun and Ayala; her lips curl in amusement. But her face turns pale when Laurel is mentioned.
"H-her fight with Zarine was a bit intense, yeah! I ain't gotten to watch her fight with Sarah yet though..."
%tAs for the quiet reflection about bumps in the road, Chevy nods slowly. And when Hawksley starts to ask what could be better, she opens her mouth, as if to offer a suggestion -- then slowly closes it, with a mischievous grin. She nods -- that'll probably serve as enough of an answer for now.
She's perfectly happy to let Hawksley answer Abigail's concerns as well. She even nods along whole-heartedly when the Irishman praises the Team Frost base. She can't say much for their Sunshine City base of operations... but this one, she'll give a hearty thumbs-up to!
Ayame's advice from Sunshine City comes to mind. Sarcasm, she'd suggested, was a weapon that Chevy would either need to sharpen for herself or master blocking out of her thoughts. She advocated the latter. And with everything else that followed, Chevy learned to trust Ichijo-sensei's advice.
Accordingly, her answer is to turn around once she gets into position, providing Coco with a subtle reminder as to which of the two ladies the cameras will be focusing on. She does this by simply turning around and showing her the seat of her pants -- which reads, simply: 'Chevy.'
Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Djamila giving... something to someone else, and then dipping out. She shares a meaningful look with Hawksley, followed by a commiserating smile and shrug of her shoulders.
"Ain't that the truth..."
She seems... bolstered, though, by Abigail's exhortation to do well in the fight. Additional motivation? "Haha. No pressure, right?"
And then... she sees the flask come out. Chevy might not have seen all of the second round of Metro City fights yet, but she's studied Hawksley's extensively. And that flask was involved in each and every one of his Sunshine City fights -- including the Rumble. So once the fight starts in earnest... she starts to run towards Hawksley's left. For once -- it seems she has her strategy all figured out: about three strides in, she whips her staff forward, dumping out the water in a swath ahead of her. And then she leaps -into- the pool of water, which suddenly surges to life!
And then, it's the moment of truth. The water-borne redhead surfs towards Hawksley, as a splash of lit booze hurtles towards her. She leans to her right, bracing the pole against her body, and raises her left-hand bucket into its path.
*PANG!* The burning alcohol slams into her bucket with a metallic ring, like a shotgun firing off!
And Chevy veers sharply to her left with the impact, correcting her course into a beeline straight for Hawksley! Bolstered by his own speed boost, she lets her left hand carry the staff backwards further, letting the alcohol fly out of her bucket. (It's not alcohol abuse, he already set it on fire...)
She crouches low -- and aims to slam her right shoulder into his center mass, carried forward by her own wave! If she manages to grab hold, she'd lift him high overhead -- and then body slam him onto his back as she continues thundering forward!
COMBATSYS: Hawksley blocks Chevy's Mudskipper EX.
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Hawksley 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Chevy
Chevy's cheeky display has Hawksley laughing loudly. Apparently she's decided to give it some ass.
"I'll be back to bother you soon then!" the Blaze brawler calls out to Abigail whilst keeping his eyes on the direction of the fire. "You can teach me how to vrooom."
The southern girl's reaction to Hawksley's fire breathing is exquisite. As she skillfully surfs towards him, the bucket takes the brunt of the burning booze, sounding out across the scrapyard. It looks like once again a fight involving the lad from Eire is getting explosive.
He lets out a loud whistle as she moves towards him on the wave and though he's not swift enough to stop her shoulder from crashing into his stomach, he's able to stiffen his frame enough to avoid being lifted aloft by the lass.
"Beautiful" he praises his opponent, shaking himself off and moving from side to side on his sneakers. "Unlike Cillian Murphy or maybe I should say Tommy Shelby, I don't have either a razor or a gun on me, so I'm just gonna have to make do with this."
Hurtling towards the hayseed, Hawksley delivers a left-handed jab into a right cross to try and break open her guard. He's looking to put her off-balance, so he can make a grab for her shoulders and pull her face-first into his rising right knee.
COMBATSYS: Chevy counters Buzzkill ES from Hawksley with High Tide EX.
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Hawksley 0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0 Chevy
Vroom, vroom, vroom! Chevy may not have been able to get a solid bodyslam in, but her wave definitely made for a strong launch from the starting line. Plus -- ab check! She finds his defense to be everything she thought it would be from her time researching videos.
Stopped by his abs but bolstered by his praise, Chevy adjusts her wave's trajectory to his right, allowing her to skid to a halt, kicking up a healthy spray of mud behind her (and away from Hawksley and any of the others, thankfully!) Taking two steps backward to let her momentum bleed off, she raises her pole to a near vertical. She... does quirking an auburn eyebrow at Hawksley though...
"... Oh, I think you lost me there..."
She's been waiting for this fight since the first weeks of their time in Sunshine City -- and she won't let her ignorance of period crime dramas stop her! When Hawksley comes in with the promised punches, Chevy stays light on her feet, stepping backwards just instants before the punches can land. Hawksley's fists would likely feel the air vacuum left in the wake of her sudden departures. But when that grab comes in, his forward momentum would be stopped by the pole hitting just inside his shoulder -- and when with all his weight on his left foot, Chevy would be able to turn him onto his side instead!
"I mean, I'm havin' trouble picturin you with a gun..."
As she steps back, one hand gestures towards the mud -- and starts to maneuver her water around for the next attack.
"Peaky Blinders" Hawksley explains. "Fecking brilliant show but no, I can't imagine me with a gun either. Horrible things."
He wouldn't have minded getting marred by the mud. He's all for getting down and dirty in a fight. For now though he's keeping clean.
Chevy resists his fists and leaves his knuckles finding free air. "Well would you look at that" he exclaims, just as he's smacked in the shoulder by her pole and sent sprawling sideways to the scrapyard floor.
As she starts to make the water work for her, he watches wide eyed in wonder. "Maybe I should be worried" he muses. "With your water and all. Hopefully you won't be dampening my flames too much."
He gets up from the ground and makes a grab for Chevy, trying to grapple her, so he can get her into a side headlock. If he's able to, he'll start punching her in the head repeatedly.
COMBATSYS: Chevy blocks Hawksley's Submission.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////////// ]
Hawksley 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Chevy
"Oh, I see. Funny name for a TV show..."
Chevy's glad he agrees about the guns. Hunting is... certainly part of the Southern culture she grew up with, but it's not one she's made a point of embracing.
"And yeah -- there's better ways to get a point across..."
Chevy's got other weapons at her beck and call, after all -- like the one Coco said might make a mess. Water surges along in her shadow as she edges backward, opening a bit more space between herself and Hawksley.
"I dunno, things tend to stay pretty hot with you around," Chevy answers with a grin. She doesn't have much time to figure out a response of her own though, with Hawksley moving in! While raising her forearm as a guard, she manages to get her arm caught within the brawler's snare -- which means that she's able to take the sting of the punches upon her forearm instead.
"Nngh..." she grunts, starting to step backwards in an aim to break out from the Irishman's grip. But then an idea comes to her...
"I ain't -all- about water..."
Instead, she momentarily drops her pole, using her free hand to grab for Hawksley's hip -- as she hopes to use his belt loop for a secure handhold. If she manages that -- she'd aim to separate his feet from the ground while she topples him over! The farm girl's expertise might come in hand after all...!
COMBATSYS: Hawksley blocks Chevy's Mix-Up Throw.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////// ]
Hawksley 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Chevy
"Funny name but not too many laughs" Hawksley replies.
He chuckles at her words though, the corners of his mouth turning up as but not because his attacks strike the pale skin of her arm. "You'll have some bruises" he warns "but it's better than getting punched in the head."
The Irishman looks at Chevy with interest as she makes her claim, curious about what other combat she will throw at him. She manages to get her hand on his hip and he feels the tug on his belt loop as she tries to use it to pull him down. He definitely wobbles but he presses his weight into his feet, meaning he is able to keep his balance.
"Come on now, Chevy" he teases. "There's people watching, so you shouldn't be trying to get my pants off."
Still chuckling he backs away, heading towards the area where Coco and Abigail are watching. "Enjoying the show?" he asks with a cheeky grin, before bending down and picking up one of the rubber tyres that's been set up for the spectators to use as seating.
He starts to twirl the tyre around as he moves back towards Chevy, looking like an image from the cover of a fitness magazine. "You like cars don't you?" he checks, not waiting for an answer before bringing the tyre down to try and hit her over the head!
COMBATSYS: Chevy blocks Hawksley's Light Random Weapon.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////////// ]
Hawksley 0/-------/-======|=====--\-------\0 Chevy
A show that's not funny... "Heh, maybe I'll check it out..."
The mention of bruises, though, that earns a smile from her. "Well, yeah! Head injuries are pretty serious!"
She won't be smiling as much, though, when her attempt at twisting him to the ground fails. Her freckled cheeks redden; flustered, she shakes her head vigorously. "N-no! I was tryin' to bodyslam you!" she insists. It isn't until she sees the Irishman's chuckle that she realizes he's having a laugh at her expense. "Oh, you're mommickin' me..."
With Hawksley taking the pressure off, she takes the moment to retrieve her pole and buckets. A couple quick swipes through the puddle that had been following her around serve to refill the buckets. And in the next moment, she's on her way to close the gap again...
A glance is spared towards the Team Frost representation. But that's all she has time for before Hawksley decides to double up on th chances of head injury with a tire...
Quickly, she's able to raise her pole, doubling up her grip and slamming the pole against the incoming tire. The rubbery tire bounces, jarring her arms, jostling the buckets, and forcing her to take three quick backpedaling steps. The elastic impact actually makes her snicker slightly...
"Well, I ain't tired of 'em yet, so yeah!"
But now, with that tire hopefully out of the way, Chevy raises her pole to about shoulder height. She then lances forward, hoping to get the handle of her bucket entwined around Hawksley's wrist.
If she manages to get a bucket hooked, she'd manipulate the water in that bucket to force Hawksley into a ninety-degree spin -- at which point she'd get a running leap and try to wrap her elbow around his neck -- and slam him face-first into the ground! Of course -- if -that- happens, Hawksley might find that getting the bucket off now is easier said than done...
COMBATSYS: Chevy successfully hits Hawksley with Battleship Chains.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////////// ]
Hawksley 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\0 Chevy
"I was just playing, Chevy" Hawksley assures her. His words may have been but he definitely meant that attempted tyre strike.
Fortunately for her, she's able to fend it off and with a clever quip to boot! As the tire rolls away from the fighters, he finds himself caught up in the handle of Chevy's bucket.
He tries to free himself but as he struggles it seems to settle more securely around his wrist. He's sent spinning and before he can make any attempt at recovery, she's on him, her elbow cutting off his air supply and causing him to gasp.
As the brawler fights for breath, he finds his face connecting with the floor and experiences the familiar feeling of blood trickling from a busted lip. Trying to lick it away, he swallows the metallic red fluid and then sets to work on gaining his freedom from the bucket. After several seconds without success he clambers up with it still attached to him.
"Thanks for the gift, Chevy. I think I'll be returning it though."
He thrusts out his arm, trying to push back against her pole with the weight of the bucket on his wrist. The Irishman intends to use the woman's own weapon to try and hit her.
COMBATSYS: Chevy blocks Hawksley's Improvised Smack.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Hawksley 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\1 Chevy
Chevy had practiced that move a few times. The basics of the attack were pretty simple in theory: loop the bucket around the wrist, slip the bucket off the pole, and let her water pull the wrist away so she can leap in for an armbar.
It worked fine in testing, but she hadn't tested on an opponent with Hawksley's build. Accordingly -- the bucket fails to slide off -- and the hayseed finds her pole suddenly ripped from her grasp!
Which is fine for the moment -- as when that happens, she's sealing the deal on that elbow drop.
It's less fine when her pole and buckets suddenly go for a ride.
"Hey, give that back!" she cries out, breaking into laughter.
Luckily, Hawksley manages to wield the weight of the weapon system, swinging it towards her in an attack. Grinning, Chevy drops to one knee, thrusting both her hands up -- and using her mastery over the water to help steer the pole into her waiting palms, and not, like, somewhere more painful.
The bone-jarring shock that goes through her palms and wrists still hurts like crazy though, because Hawksley's a pretty muscular fella -- but it's not as much as it could've been...
"Thanks!" answers Chevelle through grit teeth. In the midst of the attack, she manages to get the handle loosened from Hawksley's wrist enough to slide it right off him. With it sliding free, Chevy raises the pole to a steep diagonal, letting the bucket that -had- been around his wrist slide downward...
And, in what seems like an impulsive move, Chevy sharply reaches for the now-freed wrist that Hawksley presented her with.
"And in thanks... shall we dance?"
An instant later, the falling bucket slams into its twin with a metallic *CLANK!*
If she can manage to both grab and keep hold of Hawksley's wrist, she'd suddenly fling the twenty pounds of water-filled buckets outward, holding onto the pole in the process, and spinning it counter-clockwise. As such, she'd be using the buckets as a massive counterweight with herself as the fulcrum.
And in the next second, Hawksley might be surprised at how much that leverage can multiply the cailin's strength -- it's all thanks to a technique Ayame taught her. The end result would be Chevy's spinning grab slingshotting Hawksley shoulder-first into the packed dirt of the scrapyard!
COMBATSYS: Hawksley auto-guards Chevy's Riptide.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Hawksley 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\1 Chevy
Chevy's practice is appearing to pay off. Hawksley is very impressed by his friend's fighting finesse and she's probably giving him the roughest ride of all the other New Fighting Generation competitors so far.
He's not the biggest lad in the league but he does have the height and weight advantage on his opponent and what there is of him is pretty solid muscle. "I thought you were giving me a gift, Chevy and now you're trying to take it away from me? You'll be hurting my feelings, so you will."
When she drops to her knees, Hawksley continues the banter. "Oh you're deciding to pray now are you?" Apparently if she was seeking divine intervention then it worked, as the pole is positioned back into her palms.
When she thanks him, he bats back "You're very welcome!" beaming at her and then looking down at his still throbbing wrist when she grabs it.
"It'll be a pleasure to dance with you, cailin" he accepts, letting her take his wrist in her hand.
It seems he's looking for a different routine to the readhead though, because when the pole is spun and the buckets move threateningly to seek to slingshot him, he stands his ground, pushing back against his partner and then pulling her in close against him. Taking advantage of their more intimate positioning, the Irishman lashes out at the lass with a series of three rapid jabs with his left hand, flowing into a right-handed cross punch and then another quick left jab for his finale.
COMBATSYS: Hawksley successfully hits Chevy with Cherry Bomb ES.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////// ]
Hawksley 1/----===/=======|=======\====---\1 Chevy
Hawksley is ever the prankster, that he is. Chevy's Paw liked to joke around too -- and that's probably one reason most of his jokes, like those two, result in a smile from the freckled Southerner.
Plus, she really -wouldn't- mind dancing -- so when he voices his acceptance of the invitation, her heart does a little flutter even if she -is- using it as a pretext for another grappling move.
When he steps in to mitigate the effect of her staff, Chevy lets the swung end of the staff drop, reducing her radius and allowing her to control it a bit more: a practical physics lesson for someone who didn't do so great in science class.
"Hey, I thought you--"
But, caught looking away for that brief moment, she's left herself defenseless to Hawksley's wiles. When she turns back, she's greeted with rapid jabs to the shoulder, each of which batters her sideways a step. With her pole still overcommitted, she has trouble dodging the followup as well -- a hard right that socks her squarely in the jaw, sending her staggering backwards. The left jab lets him keep his balance, while almost knocking Chevy off hers! Thankfully by this point she's gotten her pole under control -- and clings to it as she rests the bucket end on the ground.
Her hand reaches up to cup her jaw -- sure to be swelling before long.
"Well, one of us got two left feet, I just cain't figure out which one," she comments with a grin.
But while she might have got the steps wrong for the dance, she won't mess this one up -- with a well-placed toe kick to the bottom of one bucket, and a sudden twist of her staff around its center, Chevy brings the buckets back into balance. Which is timely, because while holding the pole horizontally in front of her, and her palm raised just forward of her tender, freshly-bruised face -- she actually strikes a pretty neat pose. No doubt pulled from one of her favorite martial arts movies.
"I mean, it's probably me. They warn't teachin' us nothin' in school but square dancin' and the Electric Slide, and I aim to avoid either one as much's possible."
She keeps her distance for the moment. That last exchange left her a little dizzy -- and it'd probably be good to ensure that the Hawksley she's striking isn't just a visual side-effect of that.
COMBATSYS: Chevy focuses on her next action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Hawksley 1/----===/=======|=======\====---\1 Chevy
"Well I am a left footer, so it could be me" Hawksley jokes about his Catholic heritage. "Plus my dance experience has mostly been gained on bars and tables."
He's finally managed to punch the pole user in the face as he warned her he would should they ever get to fight. It doesn't exactly feel good but he isn't feeling bad about it either. It's all just part of the brawl, and if bruises and blood occur then so be it.
As Chevy positions herself into a pose, the pugilist eyes her, admiring the view and considering his next act of violence. It's not long before a glimmer of mischief can be seen in his dark eyes.
He starts to back up to where he'd spotted a stack of large orange barrels in the scrapyard. Turning to collect the one from the top of the pile, he tests its weight in his hands and then hurls it towards the hayseed with all his might.
COMBATSYS: Hawksley successfully hits Chevy with Thrown Object.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Hawksley 1/---====/=======|=======\======-\1 Chevy
The term 'left footer' isn't one Chevy understood as a little girl and it's one she understands even less right now. Familiar -- but just enough to bring a clueless grin to her face. That grin just grows larger when Hawksley mentions his dance experience.
"Oh, somethin' bad always happens when I try to climb on tables, so I guess it's just borin' old floor for me..."
She gives a quick twirl to her pole, reacclimating herself to the weight after having it lopsided for that last attack. But just as she does so, she sees Hawksley gearing up for some mischief. First tires, now barrels?
"Now, Hawksley, that's sweet," she starts, stepping in to close the gap. "But orange just ain't my--"
It seemed like it would have been simple to dodge something so big and so hollow. But the barrel is, well, -flexible-, and its flight is trickier to gauge, so just as Chevy raises her pole and buckets to ward it off, the flimsy barrel flops around at the last second, veering right around the pole and clobbering her right in the face, forcing a full three-step stagger to regain her balance.
Chevy shakes her head dizzily, clearing out the cobwebs. "Ugggggh.... You're still up to your tricks, it seems..."
It's hard to be -too- mad. It still didn't hit as hard as those punches, after all.
In the next moment, though, Chevy decides to turn caution to the wind. She breaks into a swift dash at Hawksley, her pole held horizontally in front of her. But when she gets close -- she drops low, all of a sudden. Water begins to splash from those buckets -- and then freezes hard into position.
The memory of training with Ichika sounds in her head -- she shouldn't use the move until she could use it on Ichika without hesitation. It was training with Ichika that helped her -finish- this move to her satisfaction -- that shaped the curious ice formation.
And then, placed just where she wanted to be in front of Hawksley, Chevy abruptly lifts her pole towards the brawler's chin. If she places it the way she wants to, the frozen projection that she presses against his shoulders will keep her pole locked in place, preventing injury -- aside from being -insanely- cold of course.
Hawksley's chin is meant to be the anchor point though -- as Chevy abruptly leaps to flip right over his head!
And if she manages to complete her full revolution, her momentum would lift Hawksley right off his feet, flip him over her own head, and slam his back into the ground before her!
COMBATSYS: Chevy successfully hits Hawksley with Marsh Slam.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
Hawksley 1/=======/=======|=======\=======\1 Chevy
"How many tables have you been climbing on then, Chevy?" Hawksley wonders. "Let me know next time you try it and I'll give you a helping hand. We'll have you dancing a jig before you know it."
Not that he knows how to dance one himself. Not in any formal way at least. He's also not able to Riverdance alas. His four sisters had all been to Irish dancing classes growing up but he refused to attend on account of not wanting to wear a beaded waistcoat. It's a shame really, because the fancy footwork could only have served to improve his fighting further.
"Orange looks grand on you'" he calls out, as the redhead is smacked in the face by the barrel. "As for my tricks, I'll never stop those."
When the pole wielding darling dashes towards him, Hawksley finds himself dazzled by the show. "Look at you all fecking flashy" he marvels.
As the pole moves up towards his chin, he doesn't try to avoid it. He's too fascinated to find out what happens next. He finds himself for the second fight running feeling his flesh frozen and he starts to shiver, goosebumps appearing on his skin.
As he trembles before her, the brawler watches in awe as Chevy becomes airbound, taking him along for the ride. Before he knows it, he's flat on his back and gazing up at the girl with a dazed expression.
"Jesus" he gasps, once he can finally get his breath. "That was gorgeous. Wherever did you learn that?
He remains lying there on the ground, gathering his strength till he can manage to push himself up, or at least as far as his knees. From here he slams his fist into the ground hard, setting of a chain of flames that surges to surround the two scrappers in a circle of fire. Trapped inside their fiery prison, Hawksley leaps upwards and then fowards, throwing himself towards Chevy with the intention of delivering a devastating lightning-fast punch to her face. Should it connect, it's likely to have enough force to send her flying through the wall of fierce, flickering flames.
COMBATSYS: Chevy counters Burn Baby Burn ES from Hawksley with King Tide.
[ \\\ < > ////////////// ]
Hawksley 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Chevy
Chevy laughs -- as much as she'd -love- to learn how to dance on tables, she really isn't so sure about this one. "I'll be sure to keep your invitation in mind..." she replies with a laugh.
She isn't laughing so much when she's socked with an orange safety barrel, of course. Combined with her denim though, orange only seems suited for one particular application...
"... Well, sure, it'd look 'grand' if I were huntin' for a job as a crossing guard..."
The next few moments are a complete rush, that ends with Hawksley complimenting her from ground level. The handsome Irishman's compliments rarely fail to register a crimson blush on the hayseed's cheeks, and this is no exception. "Aww... that was a lil' somethin' my mentor Miss Ichijo showed me..." She whips the staff around in a circle, letting out her breath -- and as she does so, the ice melts, sloshing back around in its respective buckets. "Though Ichika helped me a ton with the ice!"
She smiles faintly, backing away to give Hawksley the room to stand. She's been loving the energy of the fight -- and his 'tricks' have been keeping her on her toes all the same. Idly, she brings one hand up to cup the bruise on her jaw...
"I had to up my game knowin' I might be scrappin' against the best of the 'Genners..."
Of course -- that's when Hawksley stands up. And then he slams his fist into the ground.
A superheated shockwave ripples out.
Her jacket and hair flap about from the heated air.
And flames ignite in a ring all around her.
Chevy's eyes go wide.
It's his invincible move.
It's been employed seven times throughout his NFG career.
And each time -- except for one -- it landed with tremendous success.
Chevy swallows her grin. She grips her pole with both hands, drawing in her breath. She blocks everything else out of mind; Coco, Abigail, the junkyard dogs, even Captain Morgan fade into a blurry haze. Entranced, she mumbles under her breath, "Here it comes..." without realizing she's said anything at all.
And then she lifts her pole to a near vertical -- tipping the water from her buckets. As the liquid tumbles to the ground, some splashes out -- soaking her one-shouldered shirt, splashing across her denim-clad thighs. Spellbound by Hawksley's attack, she hardly notices. For she knows what's next: one single, lightning-fast motion.
And when that fist screams up at her...
She takes a step sideways, nudging the tip of her pole into the ground. She can feel the blistering heat from Hawksley's fist. The timing has to be -perfect-, and she knows it...
The fist is there.
And then her pole is there.
Slapping against the firm, corded muscle of Hawksley's forearm.
Chevy shoves outward on the pole with one hand...
And reaches for Hawksley's shoulder with her other.
Her blue eyes narrowed in focus, she grabs hold tight, using the leverage from her pole to push him away, to make the most of his committed momentum. She steers him away -- and slams -down- with the pole, guiding his shoulder towards the ground.
That's when the spilled water comes into play. The puddle suddenly erupts upwards -- a powerful geyser slamming into his side, strong enough to lift him right off the ground.
Chevy steps back and away, drawing in her breath again. Shock hasn't set in yet -- she's still so focused on her task. Hawksley's carried up by the geyser, spun around once, and then again.
And then Chevy steps in to make her move -- latching hold of Hawksley's legs. Gripping tight, she tugs him free of the geyser's pull -- and then *SLAMS* him onto the ground one last time.
Water splashes out from the point of impact, spreading its waves in all directions. The ring of fire still lives on -- perforated in a number of places by whitewater streams.
Chevy pants heavily, catching her breath. It was a dangerous gambit... but as it ends, the excitement washes over her.
"... I actually... did it..."
Color bleeds back into the rest of the world, as her focus fades. She smiles back at Hawksley...
Well, now they're -both- soaked, aren't they? And now slathered with muddy water, as the scrapyard isn't exactly the cleanest.
"Aww, heck, Coco's gonna start raggin' me about the mess now, ain't she?"
"There's worse jobs than crossing guards or lollipop ladies and lads as I'd call them. The feckers never gave me any lollipops though."
Whilst the female fighter flushes at his praise, Hawksley manages to keep his cool over her kind words. "Well if I'm the best and you're giving me a beating, what does that make you, cailin?" he questions. "I'm glad to hear you're being looked after by the sponsors and that your friendship with Ichika is still flourishing. Tell her I love watching her Ichikacast even if she called me out on it somewhat." He has an amused expression on his face and is obviously not feeling any anger about it.
There's almost a stillness about the brawler for a brief moment as the fire burns brightly around the battling buddies. It's almost as time has stopped until he springs into action. The Cork cruiserweight expects to connect, he usually does but today he is to be denied. The hydromancer puts a halt to his prized party trick, her pole positioned perfectly for her to push him.
Her hand touches the heat of his skin and soon he feels himself falling and then rising rapidly, the rush of the water taking control of his fit frame. He decides to go with it, closing his eyes and surrendering to the power as he's spun round and round.
Hawksley feels rather than sees his legs grabbed and then the girl has hold of him. He slams down hard, his head smacking into the scrapyard floor and scraping along it's surface to draw blood again, this time from his crown.
He's concious, barely, but he manages to look up at Chevy with bleary brown eyes. "You bloody well did do it" he laughs, wincing at the pain this produces. "And would you look at the pair of us? Anyone would think we've been mud wrestling. Don't you worry about Coco though, she'll get over it."
There's a brief glance in the Brit's direction and then a moaning sound can be heard from the man as he makes a move to manoeuvre himself upwards. Soon the sound turns to a roar as his arms become ablaze with burning chi. His gait is unsteady but he starts to stagger towards Chevy, throwing a series of hooks and crosses at her before finishing with a flaming straight punch to the face.
The effort proves too much for the fella though and with his energy spent, he's soon slumping to the ground again. Surely this time he'll stay down?
COMBATSYS: Hawksley can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
COMBATSYS: Chevy blocks Hawksley's Burn Out ES.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ <
While it might have sounded like an insult, Chevy's a blue-collar gal at heart. "I warn't sayin' it to be vicious...". She knows he probably assumed as much, but it's worth clarifying for the fans at home.
Despite her round-the-clock training and studying, the Southerner feels the need to deflect the compliment: "... It... makes me extremely *lucky*...?". Chevy has been in the lower half of the point rankings for so long that even the *thought* of success is still mind bending to her.
In her pacing around, she's then asked to convey a message to Ichika. Against any other fighter, it's doubtful that the hayseed would have nearly as much to say, but with Hawksley -- this is as much a social event as a fight between peers.
"Well, sure I will, but I'm sure she'd love to hear it straight from you! You ain't done a cast from Metro yet, unless I done missed one..."
And then... there was that one perfect moment, where everything just... aligned perfectly, against all odds. Just as she'd downplayed her own training, she still can't believe it was anything but luck. She pales slightly upon seeing the tell-tale dribble of blood from his crown -- but she breathes a sigh of relief at Hawksley's good cheer. He's a professional, just like herself, wearing battle damage like medals of honor.
Just like in her fight with Zarine, her new outfit's a mess. But it's with mud and not blood this time -- which she has it on good authority can be washed out much more easily.
"I warn't sayin' I was *worried* 'bout it..." she clarifies, in regards to the statement about Coco. And yet -- if the purple-coiffed battler is looking her way... she might just -happen- to catch sight of the redhead tossing a wink her way.
Maybe the country girl got something out of this little 'rivalry' after all.
It's all fun and games until the Irishman pulls back to his feet. Chevy raises her pole defensively, the clattering buckets a reminder that the waterbender could have used her time a bit more wisely. That fierce roar from Hawksley raises the hairs on the back of her neck. He may be on his last legs, but he's still got some fire in his engine!
It's the sight of his fists on fire that really gets Chevy concerned though. With Hawksley's speed, she's really caught on the back foot without her water. She spares a quick glance at the mud puddles on the ground -- but it would take far too much focus to pull it into readiness...
She's able to intercept that first blazing hook by swinging her pole into its path. Backing up gives her the space she needs to deflect the second as well. But by the time of the first cross punch, it becomes clear that the galvanized steel is turning red-hot from the stress!
The next cross punch is so fierce that it hammers a bend into the heated metal. "Sheesh...!" It's at that point that a wide-eyed Chevy realizes that the weapon is only slowing her down, and tosses it aside...
At first the strategy seems to work. Her denim-sleeved forearms are able to ward off the hooks more effectively, but each successive cross seems to disrupt her stability even further. What's more -- the fiery blows are starting to take their own toll, leaving scorch marks on her sleeves - and even starting to leave some embers of their own!
But then -- there's a moment in which Hawksley rears back. She remembers the move sequence now -- he'd landed it once against Buck, and once against Nixie. It didn't work out well for either of them. She draws in her breath -- and the mud puddle left behind Hawksley starts to tremble. And in the next moment, it starts to move towards Chevy...!
The blazing straight is coming.
She knows the water won't make it in time.
She crosses both forearms in front of her face.
Her left, doubled in front of her right.
A furious fireball erupts on impact with Chevy's crossed arms!
Chevy staggers back in shock, her arms falling limply to either side. Flames continue to burn along the denim sleeves, as the puddle of muddy water races across the ground to her feet. She stands ready -- for -maybe- one more attack...
But there will not be one forthcoming. The fella from Ireland gave it his all. And a weary redhead from North Carolina remains standing, with an awed look of surprise dawning on her features.
He'd told her moments prior that she 'bloody well did do it...' And even now, it's hard to accept.
But now, well. She takes a big gulp of breath, as ruddy water pools at her feet.
"Sweet lord... that was an -amazin'- fight, Hawksley."
One hand presses to her chest, calming her rapidly-beating heart.
She waits for the fight official to make it official. No chance of a kick to the ribs or anything.
And in the next heartbeat, Chevy will drop down to crouch next to Hawksley. Kind of... beyond words, really, just basking in the glow of... well, -everything-.
COMBATSYS: Chevy lets the tide wash out.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ <
COMBATSYS: Chevy has ended the fight here.
"I know that you weren't being vicious" the fiery fella chuckles. "It'd be a bit rich if either of us started coming across all fancy with our roots. As for the cast, you're bang on. I'm not as organised as Ichika for sure. Maybe I'll get my act together before the tournament and do another recording. I could give her a shout out then. Plus, I might see her when I stop by The Thunderdome to party and scrap with you all" he grins.
He's kinda dumbfounded by Chevy's reference to herself as *lucky.* "Lucky?" he questions. "Catch yourself on. You work bloody hard, we all do and you deserve any success you get. You make sure you remember that or I'll come after you." Obviously he's joking about the last bit but the sincerity of his wish for her to believe in herself is real. "Anyway, I'm the one whose nickname is Lucky."
The battling Blaze Brawler may be bruised, bloody and burning with fire but somehow he's still smiling to the last. Even as his last gasp effort fails, even as he collapses to the ground with exhaustion, even as he realises he's been beaten.
The hayseed had done her homework on him and it's served her well. She fought valiantly and Hawksley feels proud of her, just as he is of himself. He gave all he could but on the day Chevy earned her victory. The match official confirms the case. "And our winner is Chevelle Beaumont of Team Thunder!"
"Congratulations, gorgeous girl" Hawksley tells her, letting his eyes close as the aches and pains start to spread throughout his body. Now the match is over and the adrenaline is starting to subside, he can feel every place he was struck.
"It was an amazing fight and I'm glad I finally got to grapple with you. It was worth the wait."
When Chevy drops down beside him he makes a grab for her hand and gives it a squeeze. He looks like he's about to say something else when a young woman wearing an 'NFG' t-shirt approaches, bending down on the other side of Hawksley.
"Djamila Fadel asked me to give you this" she tells him, passing a pendant into the hand that wasn't occupied with his opponent. "She said to keep hold of it until the tournament."
The Irishman blinks in confusion but accepts the necklace, running his rough fingers over the silver chain before slipping it in to the pocket of his jeans not occupied by his flask. "If this is meant to be a lucky charm then she's left it a bit late" he laughs.
The New Fighting Generation worker wanders off, leaving Hawksley and Chevy alone again. "Be a darling and help me up, Chevy. There's a can of Lucky's Fiery Ale in it for you."
Chevy grins. Staying true to her roots is just part and parcel with how she was raised.
She seems even more happy when he suggests he'd be coming to visit them before the tournament. "I should hope so! It's only fair since you'd given me the grand tour of the Blaze dojo..." Even if she'd seen more of it than some of Team Blaze had....
It can be like pulling teeth to get her to be proud of her achievements sometimes. Despite a moment of crossed eyes and a shy draw of breath, she concedes while rubbing the back of her neck: "Well, yeah, fair enough... I guess it's just... y'all set the bar so high, I couldn't help but get better to just keep up!"
Moments later, after warding off the hailstorm of punches from the fiery Blazer, words are tougher to come by. Her forearms ache through and through: her fingertips are already kneading some bloodflow back into the distressed tissue. She's glad, belatedly, that her muddy sleeves were too damp to catch fire...
And of course the Irish gentleman is still lavishing compliments onto her. "I swear, boy, it's like you're *tryin'* to keep my cheeks red..." she mumbles in a low voice that she hopes only he can hear - even if everyone would be able to see her mildly embarrassed smile. She is, though, happy to take a secure grip on his extended hand.
"Definitely worth the wait." She adds, with a wink, "I gotta talk to a guy about leavin' things around for you to huck at me though..."
The intervention of the NFG staffer gives her a bit more time to prepare her ravaged arms for the task of hauling him upwards. It also gives her time to arch an eyebrow at the pendant. The media's connected Hawksley with Coco, Chevy, and now Djamila too? For a moment it looks like the redhead might be judging him - like the good vibes could be on the verge of evaporating in a puff of smoke.
... But then he speaks, and laughs. Suddenly she can't keep up the faux judgment facade any longer, breaking into a broad grin. "You done got us all 'bout wrapped around your fingers, don'tcha?"
Grinning ear to ear, she helps Hawksley to his feet. "And... well. I don't wanna get you in trouble."
Privately, away from the cameras, she might steal a swig of the booze. For medical purposes, of course.
"But I'll share something with you that has a bit less burn, sure!"
In the meantime, though... she gets a crafty expression on her face as she looks around the scrapyard.
"Hmm... don't let me forget though... I need to go tug Mr Abigail's ear about some car parts..."
He has to admit, he wasn't exactly sure how that was going to play out. Hawksley has been on an absolute tear this round but then again....so has Chevy. One of his own learned that this past round but the nature of their capabilities and earned reputation made this a little too close to just simply guess at...and when it all finally wraps up it's intense play, he can't help but be surprised at the outcome.
Pleasently surprised at least.
"VROOOOOM VROOOM!!!" Abigail's deep voice bellows like a semi truck horn going off as he raises both of his colossal arms skywards in an animated gesture of affirmation and solidarity with Chevy's victory. It doesn't matter that she's on a rival team. If he lkes you, he likes you.
"Alright! Good job!"
As a consolation prize he offers, "You as well, Hawksley. You fought like hell. Nice work! You got some high octane power in that engine of yours after all! You're on your way to max power!"
He puts his oily mitts up to his mouth and gives a shrill whistle. Nothing seems to happen...so he does it again. Nothing. Then he simply thunders, "Axl, get out here!!"
The thundering voice distracts Axl from his attempts at flirting with some of the spectators and he grumbles and heads over towards Abigail.
"Go find these parts and give 'em to her."
"Wait, what...why do I gotta!"
"I aint payin' you to look pretty, dammit! Besides I already marked where they're at!"
Coco hasn't been observing in cold silence. She's been letting out cheers for the Irish fighter throughout the match, peppering commentary such as 'Come on, Lucky!' and 'Punch her in the face, Lucky!' and 'Get in! Set her on fire, Lucky!' and 'Just /hurt/ her already, Lucky!'
You know, the sort of thing that Brits always shout at competitive sporting events.
Fortunately for Coco, she's high enough off the ground and far enough back from the action that she's only been hit by spray from the more spectacular spouts of the bout, her white Ford t-shirt and designer denim shorts (along with her shades) dappled with water droplets, but unstained by the sloshing mud that covers the scrapyard floor. Not that she's especially attached to them; she just keeps them around as souvenirs of one of her favourite fights.
Unfortunately, that isn't particularly helping her mood, judging by the look on her face, as the brawler and waterbender finish their fight on terms that are looking entirely too amicable for her liking. Her eyes may be hidden, but the pursing of her glossy lips is unmistakable.
She slides off of the hood once the match is winding down, daintily stepping around puddles in her sandals while Boy Scout Morgie just barges on ahead through the mud straight to the pair like he's full of beans (or grapes, as it were).
"Well, Lucky, it looks like Chevy had your number that match. I suppose it stands to reason; her a pig farmer, and you with such a propensity for acting like a pig."
Though her tongue is sharp, her tone, at least, is teasing. After all, she's surely not upset that Hawksley's loss means that Chevy is guaranteed to be ahead of her in the end-of-season standings or anything. She doesn't care about silly things like NFG points.
Her eyes flit to Chevy, then to the mysterious pendant, then back up to Hawksley's face.
"Oh, well, here's better luck for next time," she says as she slings an arm up around Hawksley's neck, ignoring the mud that he's covered in as she presses up to him and stands on her tippy-toes to plant a kiss on his cheek before settling back on her heeled sandals. Keeping in Hawksley's personal space as if staking her territory, she turns a look up toward Abigail.
"Oh, hello, Abi! Have you managed to arrange for a new trailer for me yet? If you haven't, I was thinking I might spend a few nights somewhere else while it's being sorted. I need my beauty sleep to keep fit, after all."
She turns her eyes back to Hawksley, smiling and winking, though it's probably not for his benefit.
"I don't know what you're talking about" Hawksley claims as his lips quirk up at the corners in response to Chevy's remark regarding him having them wrapped around his fingers.
He's helped to a standing position by the southern belle and gives her a grateful smile. "Cheers, Chevy" he thanks her before looking at the burly owner of the place.
"I appreciate you letting us use your scrapyard, Abigail. Sorry we've fecked it up more. It's been a riot and thanks for your kind words too, fella."
He cracks open a can of the Fiery Ale and gulps from it greedily, letting out an appreciative sigh of satisfaction. He's sure to let the camera capture him enjoying it, they are paying him money to be seen drinking it after all. He watches as the Frost sponsor sorts out the parts he promised Chevy if she was victorious, content in the calmness he feels. Then Coco comes over.
He was aware of her enthusiastic support during the fight but he was too in the zone to react much too it. It made a refreshing change from previous fights though, where she'd hurled abuse at him whilst he was in action or in one case tried to blank out the brawler completely.
It's soon back to business as usual though when she's calling him a pig. His reponse? He starts to oink at her. This soon turns to laughter as he looks towards the London lass. "Thanks for the good wishes, Coco Pops." The kiss on his cheek is accepted without protest and when the purple haired posh girl smiles at him he's quick to return the gesture.
"It's a scrap yard. Things being demolished in here is part of the point! B'sides, it's not like you all junked up any of Team Frosts belongings or training areas yeah? I wouldn't agree to having matches 'ere if I thought it'd be some sort of problem. Not like you threw a stray car randomly at someone's things yeah---?"
The monstrous mechanic then freezes as Coco steps in. Yeah about that.
"Urggh..." he grumbles, once she addresses him. His grumble doing a pretty good impression of Mr. Krabs at the reminder of the need to spend money he never really wanted to spend despite having it to spend and well, being at fault for needing to spend it. He did demolish her trailer with an errand toss of a whole friggen busted up car after all.....so he bears some responsiblity here.
Okay all of the responsbility...
"Yeah, yeah. It's coming." he finally concedes towards her. "I signed the paperwork and gave the okay the other day. Once this place is cleared out I'll have it puled in.."
That seems to be his cue to depart in order to see to that overdue promise and he quickly and hurriedly begins to step away after noting towards Chevy, a rapid fire "Stop by the office to pick up those parts. Okay. Bye!" And he's off.
Chevy rests her hands on her hips with a lopsided smile. He's got a charm from Chevy on his shoe, a pendant from Djamila in his hand, and he's received -actual- praise from Coco all throughout the fight. The redhead winks back at him.
"You're a lucky guy, that's all I'm gonna say."
That, and the word 'Cheers,' are about all she can get with the fella before the rest of the peanut gallery has their fill. And, honestly, the redhead doesn't mind. As folks in the NFG go, he's definitely one of her favorite -- and she'd be more than willing to admit he's earned all the attention he's received.
Especially the high-torque accolades. She clasps her hands together, high-beaming an appreciative smile to the venue's mega-sized and magnanimous owner. "Haha -- thanks Abigail! Much obliged to you..."
She smiles back at Hawksley cracking open his can of the Fiery Ale. It'd be great if she could join him, but... well. She's already in enough trouble with her agent for the email that got (accidentally) aired to add 'underage drinking' to the list of charges he'd have to contend with.
But... then Coco takes it upon herself to join in on the narrative.
And Chevy... keeps on smiling, honestly and sincerely. There was a time in which she'd be jealous. There was a time in which she'd be mad. Now? It's time for her to remain quiet.
Because Abigail's answering the question she'd levied upon him as best he could.
And Chevy breaks into a snickering fit.
No, she affirms to herself, this isn't the time to get mad.
She simply steps forward.
"Hey, that's great news!"
She wraps one arm around Hawksley.
And another arm around Coco.
It's time for her to give both Hawksley and Coco a big ol' mud-slathered hug.
"We should have a big housewarming party together!"
Yes, Coco was encouraging Hawksley throughout the fight. Of course, it was mostly toward the end of wanting him to beat Chevy. It's probably better for everyone to presume there was some positive intent behind it, though.
"Thanks, Abi. You're the best," Coco calls out to Abigail as he assures her that her new accommodations will soon be on their way. It had, of course, been mainly meant to imply that she'd be stationing herself elsewhere - mostly for a certain redhead's benefit - but one can suppose that it's a win that she'll have a trailer of her own soon enough. Maybe she could even invite Hawksley to -
'We should have a big housewarming party together!'
Coco turns her face toward Chevy with a 'you wot m8?' expression on it. Stunned enough is she that she doesn't even have time to avoid getting muddied by Farmer Beaumont. Not that she's bothered about the t-shirt, but those shorts are not only designer make, but have sentimental value.
"Oh, um, well, I'm sure it will take loads of time to get the amenities hooked up and all," Coco backpedals with as much grace as she can muster, smiling a 'wot you doing?' smile at Chevy in response to her invitation. Is Chevy flirting with Hawksley? Or is she flirting with her? Is this just what American girls do? Then again, this is exactly what she'd have done in the past if the situation had been reversed.
Well, if friendliness is ammunition, then she's not going to lose this arms race.
"Aww, it's so sweet of you to think of me, though, Chevy!"
Unslinging her arm from around Hawksley's neck, she instead aims to wrap it around Chevy's middle along with the other, squeezing tight with both arms. She's got a slightly lower center of gravity, and she uses it to lean into the other girl as if she's giving her a sweet hug... and then happens to lose her footing, because sandals in mud are slippery, aren't they?
"Oops! Oh, dear!"
How helpful of Chevy to catch her, though, and to cushion her fall, saving her from landing straight in the puddle behind Chevy.
Hawksley continues working on his can, crushing it once it's done and dropping it on the ground. Well Abigail did say things getting demolished here was part of the point.
As the big fella is coerced by Coco's charms, he can't help but feel amused. She's definitely someone who's used to getting her way and it seems this is no exception. "You should get one of those screening rooms like Will Smith has in The Heat" he suggests, referring to the movie star's legendary motor home. He's not someone who's normally up on the lifestyles of the rich and famous but he happened to see a documentary on television one time when he was having his tea before his shift at the strip club.
He gives a casual wave to Abigail as he departs followed by calling out "See you around soon." Then his attention is focused back fully on the two women he's with.
His eyes light up as he agrees with Chevy's assessment of his life. "I can't deny I'm lucky, so I can't. I mean look at all this?" He gestures to the surroundings of the scrapyard and then to the American and Brit he's with. "I'm having a grand old time of it."
His good mood isn't affected by the fact he gets slathered in mud. If anything Hawksley seems even happier. "Well isn't this lovely? The three of us hanging out with each other and having ourselves a hug. I'd love to have a housewarming party, wouldn't you, Coco Pops? Especially if you can get Abigail to get you that screening room. What films are good to get drunk to?"
The dark haired lad is disappointed when it seems Coco's not that into the idea. "Oh yeah, well I suppose if you need time to get organised and what have you. Once that's done though, yeah?" he checks, not giving up on the idea of the friendly gathering yet, after all the Brit just called Chevy sweet. Then a very unfortunate incident occurs.
It seems to happen in slow motion, one girl falling on top of the other as they slip towards the sodden floor of the scrapyard. He's no genius but he suspects something bad is about to happen.
A grand old time of it, indeed.
It was pretty clear, even to the hayseed, what Coco meant to imply when she suggested spending the night away from the scrap yard. Why would the posh princess want to stay there in the first place, anyway? And it was pretty clear that Abigail's answer took that flimsy excuse right from under her. Friendliness wasn't the objective -- and that much is clear.
But even still -- Chevy's happy to take the high road. Smearing mud all over that t-shirt (It's a Ford shirt -- it's an improvement, right?) and those designer shorts was the only salvo she'd wanted to launch. So when Coco backs out -- Chevy's already starting to back away.
"Oh. Well, yeah, it don't gotta be -right naow-," Chevy drawls.
Just to find Coco locking arms around her all the same.
And a suddenly tight-lipped Chevy just -stares- back at her, re-tightening her lock around Coco's shoulders. She knows darn well it wasn't going to be a hug. You can't put lipstick on a pig.
She lets her arm slide off Hawksley. And when Coco brings her down, the pro hog wrestler just puts the -slightest- bit of English on the Englishwoman, twisting herself to the right. As she slides, the mud-slicked Chevy also manages to slip her knee between herself and Coco as they fall. In effect, Chevy's moves rob Coco of the opportunity to avail herself of any cushioning Chevy might provide in the fall -- as both ladies land -hard- upon their shoulders. Mud splashes high into the air, thoroughly coating the three in muck and grime.
"Oh, dang! You oughta be more careful, sugar!"
In the next moment, though, there's -two- things that happen.
In wrestling mud-slicked hogs, Chevy's learned that she never wants to approach them from the belly. Because they kick-.
Chevy imparts that lesson to Coco -- by kicking her in the thigh about as hard as she can.
Also -- she's learned that she has a little bit of control over the mud they've landed in. It explodes upwards -- the mud spray serving to both separate the two ladies and disguise the kick.
Chevy, for her part, spins backwards from the blast, landing right back on her feet in the process, one hand dropping low to the ground.
Chevy glares back at Coco. Her hands curl slightly. And the mud puddle at her feet begins frothing.
"... Hey, Hawksley, can I get you to see 'bout gettin' your girl tidied up? I gots to talk with Mister Abigail."
Chevy clamps her jaw shut. It takes all her willpower to keep from adding 'about his trash problem.'
Unfortunately, while Coco may have some experience with clinching tactics, she's not really much of a wrestler when it comes down to it. And come down to it it does as both girls come toppling into the mud. Coco grunts as she hits her shoulder, head smacking into the muck. Then, there's a stray kick as she's rolling over, and suddenly Coco is crying out in pain.
"Ow! Ow! Owie!"
And then Coco is clutching the outside of her thigh with both hands and pulling a face, agony visible beneath the mud splattered all over it. She doesn't try to get up, instead curling up in the fetal position in the mudpuddle, selling the hell out of the injury that Chevy has caused her.
Assuming that she's selling it.
"Hawksley, help," she pleads, rather pathetically. Apparently she's gone from bullying to trying to play the wounded dove. Even Boy Scout Morgie comes over to investigate, looking vaguely concerned (for a bearcat), but unfortunately, he can't remember the training he took to get his First Aid badge.
What the feck is going on? It'd all been going so well with the talk of parties and the hugging and the screening room they were gonna watch movies on. As he sees his dreams slipping away along with the girls he'd been holding on to he looks on with horror.
"Ah come on now! There's no need for all this, so there isn't."
He wipes mud from his eyes, reaching down to offer a helping hand to them both, intending to help the female fighters back to their feet, and promptly falls in the puddle himself.
Chevy is sent spinning away from the situation, leaving the Cork lad crouched down besides Coco. "I've not got anything to be cleaning her with" he says with a shrug. "What little I am wearing is filthy, so it is. It won't do the girl no good."
His eyes briefly stray to the bearcat who is close beside the trio but he decides against it.
The cries from the posh purple haired party girl make him realise she's probably in real pain. "Oh gawd, Coco Pops. Do you need me to get you a doctor or something? Does anyone around here know first aid?" he yells.
In the meantime he lifts her up from the ground and carries her over to the deckchair she'd been previously spectating the match from and sets her down upon it.
Chevy's starting to feel sick to her stomach.
Striking someone in itself is a violation of her own principles. Striking someone in anger or frustration is a -separate- violation of her own principles.
But damn, striking *Coco* felt *right* somehow. And if *that* isn't a violation, she doesn't even know what would be.
There's no need for that?
"You got *that* right, Hawksley."
She runs through the chain of events in her mind, her own internal monologue relegating Hawksley's concerned words to the far distance. She was giving Coco a hug. Was it dirty? Yes! But it was a heartfelt expression? Also yes! It's...
Okay is it the -mud- that got her angry? Who knows?
But no -- she comes back to the moment of betrayal. The moment where Coco took advantage of her -kindness-, and her willingness to bury the hatchet. The moment where -panic- and -jealousy- took hold of Coco's reasoning and forced her to lash out. Chevy knows in her heart that she didn't read that correctly. Even giving out -all- the signs that she did.
And she stands by everything she said. She affirms that to herself, even as Hawksley and Coco scramble to pick themselves up from where her miniature waterspout left them. Poor Morgie, worrying himself over Coco's carrying on. She blinks mud out of her eyelashes, wipes mud from her face. Doesn't bother scraping the mud covering the name on her jeans, or the 'Team Thunder' on the legs. If Abigail was gonna pitch a fit about mud he would've done it already.
As Chevy gives the battlefield one more pass, her jaw is still wired shut. Internally, she's frothing as much as the waters just beside her feet. But even that... starts to simmer, as she sees Hawksley picking up Coco. Hawksley proving... that he'll take Coco's side in this matter.
If Coco can't respect that for what it is, Chevy insists, nothing she can say will.
She stops to pick up her pole. And her buckets.
She can't stop them from thinking her the bad guy. But she's done playing nice with Coco. She's done giving in to her tantrums -- for as far as Chevy's concerned, the posh princess has gotten her way in *every* way that matters.
And then she looks up to the yellow imp who's been crouching atop a pile of scrap, dutifully filming all this time.
The imp looks up from his camera to Chevy, as she waves him towards Abigail's office.
"There ain't nothin' to film here."
A moment later, a spring-loaded mechanism pulls the door to Abigail's office shut.
From inside the office, Chevelle Beaumont breathes a silent prayer that Hawksley and Coco aren't there when her business is done.
Log created on 18:27:54 10/04/2023 by Hawksley, and last modified on 05:10:54 10/09/2023.