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4 posts
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Authored by
Vinnie
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Apr 23, 2018 23:04:55 GMT -5
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HOMRA Member
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Post by Jack Simon on Oct 28, 2017 0:39:52 GMT -5
There had been something off about this bar since the moment he walked in, an eerie feeling told him he was being watched. At first, he ignored the feeling and kept on minding his own business, however, as the night went on it became clear to Jack that simply ignoring the issue wasn’t going to make it go away. Ment that his night of drinking and making merry was going to be cut short, which was a shame really. Seemed like a man couldn’t even relax in this town without attracting attention, what a drag. There were eyes on him but he didn’t know where it felt like to him they were coming from everywhere, and as he reached into his suit jacket for his glasses he kept his eyes locked on the mirrors lining the back of the bar. Blurry figures and loud chatter prevented him from making out anyone specific until he slipped his glasses onto his face, once he did that people's faces literally became much clear and it took him little to no time at all to find the men who had been glaring him down all night. The mirror that lined the back of the bar acted as his eye and gave him a full view of the room without him actually having to turn around. From his position at the bar, he was able to tell that there were at least five guys eyeing him up, and he could tell right away they were from a rival gang. This was shit he didn’t need this right now, not when he had just spent the whole day hunting for a job. Judging by the look in these thugs eyes he was going to have to fight his way out of this, which sucked mostly because he was currently wearing his only suit. Like hell, he could afford to fix it which meant if it got ruined in some street brawl he was going to his next few interviews in sweatpants. Well unless he could somehow get out of this unscathed, which was highly unlikely judging by the number of thugs there were.
Many people assumed that street fights were tactless, thoughtless things, that if one just ran in fist swinging they might come out it alive. However, they weren’t like that for Jack they were something of an art form and he never ran into anything without carefully thinking of a strategy first. From the moment he laid eyes on the thugs he began to carefully think about his next move. The odds already weren't in his favor because he was outnumbered and unarmed, he had to assume the thugs behind him had come here prepared since this bar was deep in Homra territory. He supposed running was always an option, he was about four blocks away from the Homra bar after all. However, there was no guarantee he would be able to outrun five people, besides the safest place right now was here because there were plenty of witnesses. As soon as he stepped out onto the empty street anything could happen, and he wasn’t willing to take that risk. He had until closing time to think of a plan so he wasn’t too worried, in fact, he ordered another round to help pass the time. Clearly, a point was trying to be made here and if war with Homra was the thug's goal they were going to use him to start it. What a pain, he didn’t even know which gang these thugs belonged to or what specifically Homra did to piss them off. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time it would seem, and if he wasn’t careful he was going to get his ass beat.
He was kind of hoping the thugs would get bored of waiting and just leave since they waited hours for him to get up and leave. Could have figured things wouldn’t be that easy, and as closing time approached Jack knew now there was no avoiding this fight. Spent his last few moments of peace lighting up and smoking his cigarette just in case it was his last. After all, if he was going to meet his maker he might as well do it with the taste of alcohol and nicotine on his lips. Two am came quickly enough and as the bartender announced the closing of the bar, a seriousness came over Jack because officially the game was on. Jack walked out with the crowd and the moment his foot hit the sidewalk he took off running because he wasn’t pussyfooting around. He took off running with the thugs close behind him hoping that his knowledge of the area was enough since this was his territory. It didn’t take long for the thugs to prove that hope was for fools, using their superior manpower they slowly cut off his escape routes and cornered him in some closed down construction site. It would seem like he wasn’t the only one spending his time wisely by coming up with an attack plan. He was quickly surrounded and that was annoying because why the hell did this have to happen to him. They could have jumped any other member of Homra but it just had to be him now didn’t it? ”Bloody hell,” Jack cursed as he flicked his cigarette bud, the fire from its amber igniting with his flames creating a perfect ring of fire around him. His flame crept along the ground and clung to his body as he stared down the thugs ready to give this fight his all.
“You Homra punks are gonna regret the day you took our turf from us, we’re gonna prove once and for all which one of us is the best!”
One of the tugs hissed could've guessed this was some kind of turf war and honestly, he was getting a little tired of being dragged into things he had nothing to do with. His flames burned hotter as his scowl deepened because oh he was mad. “Shut up and stop wasting my time.” He wasn’t interested in hearing what the thugs had to say because he had heard it all before. That was painfully clear by the fighting stance he took as he expanded his flames outwards. His words angered the thugs and just like that punches were flying, there was a clear difference in the quality of fighters here as Jack weaved and bobbed around the five thugs. He hit each one of them in intervals of three, using his flames to coat his fist adding the additional power of his flames. One, two, three, thugs he knocked to the ground gasping for air, for a moment it seemed like he had the upper hand but as Jack turned to face the fourth thug he pulled a knife. The blade cut Jack right along the chest ruining his suit and spilling his blood, the sudden pain forced him back as the thug kept on swinging hoping to land another cut. Jack was on the defensive and put his arms up to block the thug's slashes. His flames kept any real damage from happening to him and with every little cut the blade inflicted on him it became more and more warped. Jack was totally focused on the one thug as he waited behind his defense for the blade to break. But as the one thug kept him busy another snuck up behind him and honestly, Jack had no clue they were there until a cold blast of water plowed him to the ground. Using the emergency fire hose the construction site had the thugs pinned Jack against a wall. Although this hose had less pressure than the ones the fire apartment used, it still had enough to trap him.
“We’re gonna put out that fire of yours then we going to make you a cripple!” The thugs roared over the rush of the hose.
Damn the water hurt like hell, it hurt so much it had him gasping for air as he struggled to breathe. All Jack could do to protect himself from the power of the hose was to crouch down and hide behind his flames. The fire he was given by the red king burned hot and put a wall between him and the rushing water. Steam filled the construction site and lofted high into the air. Jack put every ounce of his power into protecting himself and has he forced his fire to keep burning he couldn’t help but yell out in frustration. Whole minutes passed like that and eventually, his fire was exhausted and he was soaked to the bone by ice cold water. It was just lucky for him that the construction site had a limited amount of water and that the thugs used it all up putting out his fire. Exhaustion kept Jack from reacting quickly and before he knew it he was tackled and pinned to the ground by four of the five gangsters. Jack struggled like hell and cursed like a sailor as he desperately tried to spark his flames again. It was no use he and the ground around him were just too wet to start a fire, and by the time he realized that he was face to face with the thug who had the knife.
“I’m gonna mess you up, how’s being a blind cripple sound?” The thug barked as he took Jack by the hair, he pulled his head back and placed the blade of the knife right between his eyes. “The only real question here is which eye should I pluck out first? The left or the right?”
The look on the thug’s face was almost crazy like somehow he was enjoying this. Great, he was up against a god damn psychopath and he couldn't fricken move. Real panic set in as Jack thrashed, the look on his face said it all, and as the thug hoovered the blade over one eye and then the other Jack couldn’t help but follow it. His eyes were wide and wild as the adrenaline pumped through his veins, small sparks of fire lit up like fireflies around them as the boiling anger inside of Jack began to spill over. “I’m going to kill you. You can bet on it.” Even if he lost his sight right here right now he was going to hunt this creep down and make him pay. There was a deadly serious look in Jack’s eyes as the thug finally choose which eye he would take.
“Oh please do.” The thug chuckled as he raised his arm and thrust the knife downwards towards Jack’s right eye, his only real hope now was that someone, anyone would see the rising steam and come to his rescue. But then again as proven before, hope was for fools. |
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Application
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4 posts
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#rottentrash
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Authored by
Farah
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Jan 5, 2018 6:02:04 GMT -5
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JUNGLE Member
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Post by Ryuichi Hatake on Oct 28, 2017 7:23:26 GMT -5
T he main problem was that Ryuichi was bored. Energy had settled in his limbs since the day before, waiting for a fun mission that hadn’t been posted on the <jungle> forum despite his hopes. It left him tsking as he turned the pages of his Weekly Shounen Jump, skipping Black Clover entirely and settling on My Hero Academia. The <jungle> member laid on his back on their worn green couch, picking at holes in the cushion next to him as began to balance the manga magazine with one hand, eyes raking over the kanji and furigana just like he had the day he found it in the mail. “Why did they have to replace Bleach with Black Clover?” He groaned for the umpteenth time, earning a weary sigh from his roommate, who had sat himself on the floor with his cigarettes when the sun had set. “Black Clover was published before Bleach ended. It’s actually pretty good, which you would know if you actually read it past the synopsis.” The green clan member grunted his acknowledgement, stretching out to set the manga magazine on its predecessors, contributing to the pile that a high Mikio always said he was going to arrange into a flower and submit to a museum, thereby launching his art career. As though he hadn’t already burnt that bridge with the local museums. Ha. “I don’t trust the taste of someone who liked Fairy Tail.” The series was hissed as though it were an insult to mankind, but Mikio merely took another drag of his cigarette, shrugging as he stood up and began to slowly sift through their cluttered apartment, as though trying to be discreet. Not that Ryuichi didn’t know what he was searching for. He sat up as he took a brush to his long hair, eyelids resting at half mast as he watched his roommate struggle for a moment and enjoying his slow shift to panic. As he finally brushed through the last tangle in his hair and began to braid his hair, he showed Mikio some mercy; “I set the needles you got from Seiji on the kitchen table; like hell am I gonna get stabbed by that when I don’t know where it’s been.” Mikio immediately darted to the kitchen, and Ryuichi’s lips quirked up at his audible exhale of relief. The man had grown quite desperate, probably to compensate for the skunk smelling rolls Ryuichi had kept throwing out until they came to an agreement to keep it to scentless drugs only. He couldn’t go to work smelling like that, after all, as it affected the animals in often strange ways that were more troublesome than amusing.
Finishing off his braid with a hair tie, the black-haired male stood from their stinky couch and collected his wallet, pausing to count the cash and ensure that it all matched up, before strolling to the kitchen’s door frame to lean in and catch sight of Mikio sitting on the floor, needle discarded on the floor again, likely from him unable to hold it after whatever dosage he gave himself. Ryuichi tapped on the doorframe, all the while drawling, “Yo, Mikio, I’m going to get some fast food. You want some?” As he figured, the green haired male did not respond, instead staring at the wall and not registering anything. The <jungle> member didn’t bother talking to the drug addict from there beyond a call of, “Don’t overdose!” as he closed the door shut and locked it behind him. It had been midnight when he had left, frigid cold air making him glad that he had worn his white, wool sweater, along with a long pair of jeans. Had to note that winter had always seemed more boring, other than the sight of people suffering from hypothermia, and it did nothing to ease his own boredom. Ryuichi didn’t own a car or a scooter, but he didn’t mind no matter the weather since it offered more sights to see. And, well, that way he could laugh at unfortunate events without worrying about causing a car crash or colliding with a pole.
Hands in his sweater pocket, Ryuichi hummed a mindless tune as he passed the metro station, first, then a small shrine with signs saying explicitly the hours. Midnight and one in the morning didn’t seem to be allowed, which was such a shame, he mused, were they scared somebody would steal the flowers? The primroses, the chrysanthemums? He would have to check later, depending on his mood. For the moment, he let himself pass it, walking steadily across streets only illuminated by store signs and street lights, past a closed off construction zone and to the 24-hour fast food chain that had the best burgers for this type of night. By the time he reached it, it was two in the morning and the green clan member was starving. “Two Number Five’s, Deluxe Cheeseburgers without the meal.” The <jungle> member had the faintest temptation to rake his nails across the cashier’s face as he handed over the required amount of yen, and again when she handed over his burgers in a bag. But that was restlessness, the result of boredom after so many years of underground fighting, unused to prolong years of domesticity; he’d have to schedule a fight soon, apparently, just to tide it over until an actual mission worth taking was posted on <jungle> forums other than searching for Kings he had no care for unless their blood was to be splattered. This restlessness plucking away at his nerves was one of the sole reasons he paused across the street as a man sped away from a bar, with a group in pursuit as he led them down back roads, and it really was the sole reason he casually followed, wondering if he’d see a man get gutted tonight.
Eventually, they all were at the closed construction site Ryuichi had passed before, brawling. He sat on a bar abandoned on foundation and incomplete third flooring, uphill enough where he had the perfect view to look down upon them, and enough where they would have to take their interest entirely off each other and glance up, and sat the bag of burgers next to him on the bar as he rested his head against one hand. Real interest bloomed at the sight of the red aura, already analyzing and comparing the intensity of it to those he had seen use it before. He had fought HOMRA members before, felt the flare of heat as it brushed against his skin and left a mark that he would enjoy for days, almost as much as how had enjoyed beating their some of their bones in, impaling some of them with his beloved weapons. Wisteria had been the last to slide into HOMRA flesh, if he recalled correctly, purple metal glinting in the light as red spilled over his fingers. Yes, HOMRA was always fun to fight and always fun to watch fight, enough where he didn’t get impatient enough to draw blood as often as he did with Scepter Four grunts.
This one, in his little suit, was disappointing and sloppy after a while, though, not prepared for a knife fight when he should have known that not everybody used aura. Ryuichi would bet a lot of yen that at least one of them had a gun; it was just something people used to compensate for such a gap in power. Clan members weren’t immortal, really, just more powerful than your average grunt. Though, they definitely were resourceful enough to grab an emergency fire hose, so he supposed in this case the average grunt was better than the average HOMRA member nowadays.
Again, disappointing, even if the sight of him being hosed was funny enough that he snickered behind his hand.
He grew bored with the fight once the HOMRA member was pinned, and eagerly went to open up his burger. The tearing of tinfoil carried out into the late night, however, now that both parties were silent and focused on each other. Heads snapped up as Ryuichi took his first bite, PDA pulled out to take a picture to set as his wallpaper to cheer him up when he had nothing to do. Disappointing but enjoyable was a weird combination, but it worked to entertain the <jungle> member. Green eyes met wide ones, unblinking as swears and loud voices crossed the air and into his ears, trying to affect him with intimidation when Ryuichi had faced much more terrifying people and had been caught in worse acts than just snooping. So he chomped on his Deluxe Cheeseburger, munching away on it, exuding just how unimpressed he was with their tactics. One of them ran from the pinned HOMRA member and towards the unfinished business building that Ryuichi was in, presumably to locate and silence him from taking evidence to the police.
“Can’t you go back to stabbing his eye?” Ryuichi snapped in response, sharp and loud enough to cut through the air and words that meant nothing to him, impatience bubbling up now that they were simply wasting time. “Believe it or not, I’m not going to go the police. Maybe I just want to see a guy get cut up.” Though he was certain either police or reinforcements for the HOMRA lackey would eventually arrive, and then it would just be another disappointing conclusion for him to grumble over, later. He heard the gang member reach the same floor before they were in the same room, loud footsteps and sliding metal only warranting a side-eyed glance before he returned his attention to the pow wow downstairs, the man who had been so determined to stab the HOMRA member’s eyes now determined to win this one-sided shouting match that Ryuichi wasn’t really listening to, more concerned with timing how long the man’s aura would take to surge back up again. “- and once we’re finished with crippling this HOMRA garbage, we’re gonna cut you up and shoot you in the head till we’re cooled off. Sound reasonable?” And maybe Ryuichi should have found the almost psychotic edge to the man’s tone intimidating, but underground fighters like Ryuichi saw more than what was likely mentally healthy.
After chewing on his burger and feeling metal press against the side of his head, the <jungle> member idly said, “Nong dao jiang hu.” An old lady had once chided him, a long time ago back when he had been innocent, in the back ends of Shanghai. Stirring the glue, was what it meant, and that in turn meaning one was full of it or messing around with the wrong things. Back then, despite the fact it had been a scold for throwing a pebble at her flower pot, it had been gentle, endearment even for her neighbor’s child. When Ryuichi said it, it was dead, lacking anything except the meaning of the words, only memory having the words curl up in amused harshness. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard, not clearly anyway, by the others, but suddenly the man 'holding him hostage' jerked, laughing. “He’s a chankoro!” The rest began to sneer and throw slurs, laughing all the way, and now Ryuichi was smiling, his next words pure serrated steel. “Xiao riben.” If they wanted slurs, well, the <jungle> member had plenty. The man next to him stiffened, apparently knowing the insult, and pressed the gun back to his head.
But Ryuichi was done with this little game.
So he slid the half eaten burger back into the bag, not listening to angry words about pride and family, and, in one swift motion, pushed the gun away and twisted man’s arm, before snapping it. The injured man man was already yelling, pissed off and in pain, and somewhere there were threats of harming a hostage. The <jungle> member almost scoffed; did they really think he was trying to help the HOMRA monkey? Ryuichi gave his answer by picking up the cold metal and, without hesitation, blew out the man’s kneecaps. His preferred weapon might be bladed weapons, but guns had been taught at an early age when he had still be held close at hand, a precaution against overzealous and greedy business partners. The dark haired man curled a finger around his braid as he analyzed the situation: before, the red clansman had been pinned to the ground. Now he was held by the hair, knife at his throat, as the ring leader grew red in the face and was still shouting meaningless words. The way Ryuichi saw it, he had four options. Kill the man. Shoot the hand holding the knife. Shoot the hand holding his hair. Or do nothing. But even though Ryuichi was no stranger to murder, he always had enjoyed giving his enemies an opportunity to grow stronger and lash back out at him. Plus there were witnesses. So Ryuichi did the most entertaining thing, besides pressing his foot against the writhing gang member’s blown out knee. “Dumbass flamethrower, get your fire out of your ass!” And he shot the hand holding the red clansman’s hair.
Afterwards, he casually threw the gun off the third floor, not too keen on being shot by a man whose aim was guaranteed to be worse from the state he was in, and grabbed his burgers, already strolling down the stairs at a casual pace. It didn’t matter who lived, Ryuichi mused to himself as he began to munch away at his half eaten burger, because Ryuichi had been entertained enough that even if the outcome was boring, the means certainly hadn’t been. So instead, he threw caution to the wind, going to lean on the chain link fence as he watched the renewed fight up closer, only fifteen feet away.└ Tags-- ( Jack Simon )
└ notes: Eh, sorry I didn't give you much to reply to I guess, I didn't want to move your character around too much. But I told you he was a rotten child! monster that devastated man's resting impurities |
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4 posts
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0 likes
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Authored by
Vinnie
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Apr 23, 2018 23:04:55 GMT -5
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HOMRA Member
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Post by Jack Simon on Oct 28, 2017 15:33:28 GMT -5
Jack had messed up countless times in his life, he had also gotten into sticky situations before but never anything quite as sticky as this. As the knife was plunged downwards towards his face he couldn’t help but think just how shitty it was going to be as a member of the blind and deaf community. He could almost picture himself now as an old man smelling his way through life and following random scents like the stench of cheeseburgers. He could've sworn he smelt them now which was the most random thing ever since he was about to get his eye plucked out. Though it would seem like he wasn’t the only one experiencing something odd and unexpected. The thug wielding the knife stopped his thrust just inches away from his face, so close that Jack could feel the tip of the blade scratching his eye. Needless to say, Jack was a little freaked out by just how close the knife actually got to his eye, and honestly, he couldn’t figure out why the thug had stopped? He couldn’t have been bluffing this entire time, could he? The look in his eyes when he threatened to take Jack’s said he wasn’t so then why did he stop? Jack glanced up at the thug and watched him very closely as he cursed and swore off in another direction. The direction of which the cheeseburger scent was coming from. Jack cocked an eyebrow and followed the thug's line of sight but it was no use, whoever it was over there they were too far for him to see.
The thugs scrambled to capture the spectator by sending one of their men to fetch them, leaving only three men to hold Jack down. The odds were starting to stack in his favor and as he weighed the weight of his new situation his fire burned inside of him. The heat of his flames warmed every inch of his chilled body until began to boil the water around him. His eyes were locked on the thug with the knife because he swore he would kill him and he meant it. There were words spoken from afar he couldn’t quite make out, words he just knew belonged to the stranger. It would seem like the stranger and the thug with the knife were exchanging words, and although Jack couldn't see what the stranger was saying he could see the thug just fine. He called him garbage and Jack stared him down without so much as blinking as he licked the blood from his teeth. No ash would be left of this punk once he was done with him. The more the stranger distracted the thugs the more power Jack was able to build up without being noticed. From the slurs flying through the air, it would seem like the stranger was some kind of Chinaman. A Chinaman with a foul temper obviously because within moments of the slurs the thugs were on edge and pressing their knife against his throat. Which meant the stranger had clearly just done something to piss them off. What a pain, he felt as if his hair was being pulled out by their roots, and then suddenly they weren’t. A gunshot rang through the air and his hair fell loosely around him stained with the thug's blood. Blown off finger and flesh dropped to the ground around him, as Jack gasped because that was too close for comfort.
The words from the stranger were non-existent, replaced by the ringing in his ears, however, one word managed to slip through. Flame. The words flame he understood and as it echoed in his head his fire ignited inside of him. His aura lit the air around them and turned the water under their feet into steam. It was an explosion of steam that burned the thugs peeling their flesh causing them to release him. It was the thug with the knife that had Jack’s sole attention and as soon as he was free he pushed off the ground and punched him once good in the face. When his fist collided with the thug's face he could feel his jaw cracking and that was nowhere near enough pain to satisfy him. He had been called garbage and had his flames snuffed out, the amount of rage Jack felt for this man was almost limitless. It caused him to see red, the same deep red of his flames. They burned and engulfed his body, with every punch the thug felt his intensity until he couldn’t stand it anymore. The thug dropped his knife as he fell to the ground, he begged for mercy and Jack heard and saw nothing. There was only the red of his flames as he followed the thug down to the ground and picked up his knife. “I told you I’d kill you.” He said with an almost unsympathetic look in his eyes. Jack thrust the knife downwards and the thug screamed, he screamed like a teenaged girl as he pissed his pants. Killing someone like that would have been an act of mercy, but there were rules. Anna and the red clan were helplessly good people even if they were just a bunch of thugs themselves. There was no bone, no blood, no ash, and no killing. So keeping with the rules laid down on him by the red king Jack hit the thug as hard as he could with his elbow knocking him out, instead of killing him. He stared down at the thug as his body twitched under him and wondered if being a part of Homra was making him soft.
“Guess I’m a liar.” He said to himself as he staggered back, he turned to face the remaining three thugs that had been holding him down up until a moment ago only to find that they had fled. They had run away with their tails between their legs and honestly, he couldn’t care less. Jack took a moment to look at his suit and sigh as he ran his hand across the large cut across the chest. His suit was beyond ruined and worse yet so were his smokes. It was the movement of the chain fence that reminded him that the stranger was still there, and of course, he turned to face him. After all, it was only thanks to the stranger that he was able to escape at all, but there was just something about him that rubbed Jack the wrong way. He couldn’t explain it, it was simply in the air that surrounded him, his aura that told him not to trust this so-called savor of his. Jack stared at the strange man as unimpressed as always, he even gave the man a good once over before scowling and lifting his chin. “Who orders a deluxe without the combo?” He said as he pointed to the bag of fast food in the man's hands. He could tell there were no fries in that bag of his because he couldn’t smell them. Jack had the nose of a bloodhound he could even tell that the man had two burgers, not just one. Honestly, that had to be the shittiest excuse for a thank you in the history of thank yous, but there it was, not even a thank you. “What the hell are you doing here anyway, this wasn’t some kind of show you know.” After all, he didn’t know this man which meant he was no friend of his or a member of Homra. Unless he was here to share that extra burger in that bag of his Jack wasn’t interested which meant the stranger could take a hike.
Tag: Ryuichi Hatake
Words: 1291 |
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Winter Member
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Post by Inara Fukuko on Jan 4, 2018 15:02:55 GMT -5
Honestly it was the water that pulled her attention, as odd as that sounded of course, the sense of it in the air made Inara rock on her heels and blink, attention distracted. She tapped a finger on her phone to debate a moment, because it was out of place, towards a construction zone that had been empty for months now. Glanced back at her phone, the random game of pong that she had lost in her moment of distraction and the time, she had almost forty minutes before the next bus. So took a breath and slipped her phone away, all she had been doing was pacing at the bus stop to kill time, heading home from a tutoring job. Likely she should stay put, let it go and ignore it, but oddities always did draw her attention, and sometimes she was bad just keeping to herself. Well worst that would happen would be there was a broken pipe and she could call it in before wandering back off, good deed for the day done. So slipped off that way, cutting through grass and uncaring about the bit of mud that splattered across her boots, cared more about the fence in the way. Touched a hand out to the fence and listened to the creaking of coldness taking over the metal, frost arching across the links. Was not till the frost crumbled away that it was cold enough for the metal started to break down.
Water had been the least thing to really worry about when someone went running towards her, almost slamming into her in their hurry to escape out her made entrance. Ah, that was a sign to turn around and leave then, and for a moment Inara considered it, was not her mess to go cleaning up, not her problem. Would be best for her to keep her nose clean, the person had looked like a street thug and she did not need to go getting in trouble. But it was an open curiosity really, for so many reasons, the source of the water of course, what was going on just out of sight and the question of what jurisdiction she fell in anymore. So she paused but pushed on, fingering the cord of her earbuds and debating just how foolish she was being. Curiosity killed the cat, but she was not a cat so she had that going for her. Gunfire was loud and made her jump, ice crackling in her hair and the air around her from the spike of adrenaline, and really that was what should have made her run.
Instead Inara hurried forward to a scene that was over all rather boring, gang members and thugs, water across the ground and steam in the air. Caught the tail end of words and she huffed as she came into sight, “Was a short show.” There was a body on the ground, alive and twitching as they tried to gather wits, the one that had been talking standing over them. They were bloodied and wet, looking the worse for wear, talking to someone that looked rather untouched by everything given they were calmly eating. Inara glanced over the scene and already ice was crawling over the man on the ground, inching towards the other, blonde, bleeding and loud. “And entirely too attention grabbing, really what sense of decorum do you have.” While it could have been a question she clearly was not expecting a reply because she already knew the answer just from this whole scene here. “Or self preservation.” Softer words there, more to herself because she was one to talk clearly, standing there out of place and looking like she did not belong.
Not that she was just going to buzz off, instead she moved in closer, leaving a trail of frost in her steps as she picked her way along, any remaining water puddle near her freezing solid. “You are going to bleed everywhere,” The freezing point of blood was lower than most people thought it was, random fact that likely would not comfort him at all, “And you are just being creepy. Plus you are suppose to bring popcorn to shows, not burgers.” Pointed a finger at the other one attempting to look oh so casual and untouchable. “Seriously, thugs are all the same.” Grumbled as she went to the downed man and blinked down at him, likely it would have made sense for her to kneel down and check on him. That was not what Inara did, instead she kicked him, just under the ribs, “Stop being a baby, up you get, up up, you picked the fight and lost, so away with you.” Her level of concern only went so far clearly, he was not dead or dying, he would be fine, better if he stopped laying about on a ground that was just getting colder by the second thanks to her.
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Application
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#rottentrash
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Authored by
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Jan 5, 2018 6:02:04 GMT -5
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JUNGLE Member
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Post by Ryuichi Hatake on Jan 5, 2018 5:53:58 GMT -5
H e had prepared himself for the ending to be boring, and hadn’t exactly been proved wrong. No shattered bones for the grunts, no corpses, but then he’d missed half of it during his stroll down the stairs. All that was left was the beatdown, the red aura, of which Ryuichi could call a blazing fire if he were generous or drunk, undoubtedly leaving behind black and blue patches on skin whether or not they could see it. The thing was, though, even as the HOMRA fool picked up the knife, the <jungle> member knew he wouldn’t follow through. Under new leadership, HOMRA had proven to be less destructive; oh sure, they couldn’t quite get rid of it, broken walls and shattered windows were simply a side effect of their presence, and they were a gang at the end of the day, so of course there would be similarities. Like father, like daughter as it were. So when the blond man knocked his opponent unconscious rather than slitting his throat, Ryuichi was unsurprised and unimpressed. The only satisfying thing about this ending was the foul stench of urine curdling in the air and the extra grunts running away, making him laugh to himself as he nibbled on his burger.
Ryuichi did not bother commenting on the words the man said, likely spoken to himself, not finding them worth anything. Of course the man was a liar, but most people were, and thus the statement was a waste of air. Instead he focused on the slightly irritating fact that the man was taller than him, by a couple of inches even, and eating his burger. He only gave the guy any response when he began looking at him as though he were the dirt on the road when he was in mid-bite of his cheeseburger instead of giving him the gratitude that he objectively deserved. Not that the underground fighter wanted it anyway. He pulled out the PDA from his sweater’s pocket and snapped another picture before uploading it and the other picture of him, soaked and being pinned down, to the <jungle> forums, simply captioned: ‘fiery chicken made it out alive, but at least he got a bath #homrafailure’ He wouldn’t get any points for it, not with his rank and especially not without a location tag, but then he didn’t want any greenhorns clambering over. Taking a picture he could get away with by just being called an ass; a surge of green clan members he couldn’t, not without the HOMRA member realizing exactly what he was. “That is what you do when you stare at somebody, as the saying goes.” Eyes idly passed over the name that the pictures gave him before he pocketed the PDA again, not caring about the short information blurb waiting to be read whenever he unlocked it, nor for the fact that the guy was most definitely a foreigner. After all, what kind of name was Jack Simon? “But now that picture is on my camera roll, and I’ll look back later on it and wonder why I couldn’t have taken a picture of the wall instead.”
Of course then he had to bring burgers into it, and Ryuichi’s lips curled. “Who gets their ass hosed down like a dog by a bunch of nobodies?” He snorted instead of answering, and promptly stuffed the last bit of the first burger into his mouth. Fries ruined that unique taste, but then he wouldn’t expect somebody that literally exuded flames to understand. Wouldn’t even be surprised if they were partial to burnt food. The <jungle> member seemed to press against the chain link fence even more as he heard footsteps and as a woman joined them, even as his posture otherwise remained casual and easygoing. His eyes flitted to her and then her feet, where ice began to spread freely, and he wondered if she was a Winter clan member seeking to prove a point or simply a strain with too much energy for her own good.
There were pros and cons to an additional person at this exact timing. For one, it meant that Ryuichi didn’t need to answer the blond’s stupid question, as she answered for him, and thus could continue chewing on the remains of the burger and finally swallow, all the while giving the other man a smug look, as though saying ‘See? I’m not the only one who thinks so.’ For two, there’d be a bit of a buffer if the blond’s post-victory rush made him decide that he could try to kick Ryuichi around. Problem was, well, that she was another person. One that spouted fancy words that the underground fighter did not know the meaning of, all willy nilly. Like decorum. What the hell did that mean?
Not to mention that the air seemed colder with her just around, and it made him thankful that he had opted to wear his sweater tonight rather than a simple shirt.
He didn’t mind that her attention was primarily focused on the red clan member, even expected it to last longer, given that it was bleeding. Ryuichi had always preferred to be left aside, ever since he moved to Japan anyway, conversation left to him only when he was needed, especially in larger groups. Still, he tilted his head at being addressed so soon, his voice climbing into a petulant tone at all the criticism. Honestly, it was like they’d never snuck a burger into a movie before. “Jarl’s Sr.’s Deluxe Cheeseburgers are way better than disgusting popcorn.” Could have almost let it slide, really, up until she had to go and act all high and mighty; it had him baring teeth ever so slightly as he mockingly sneered, “So high and mighty for a stranger, Too Bee-eh.” Ground Beetle fit her nicely, out of depth with the situation, a practical fish out of water thinking she knew everything. Though she might as well be a magical fish in that case, freezing whatever water she was supposed to swim in. How counterproductive.
He didn’t exactly expect Ground Beetle to go kicking the unconscious thug, couldn’t help but chortle either, because really, the high and mighty Ground Beetle was being more humiliating than the supposed gang member was. “He’s not going to get up any time soon. Not without help anyway.” And the underground fighter sincerely doubted that the blond was going to help. Still, he was already jeering at the HOMRA member as he reached into the paper bag for the last burger, thinking he may have to grab more at this rate. “Did you switch roles or did the reminder of all that water make you stiff?” └ Tags-- ( Inara Fukuko & Jack Simon )
└ notes: Can I get a capital "A" and a pair of capital "S's"? Cool! *arranges it into ASS and brands Ryu with it* <3? He's not nice, I apologize in his stead because he never willlllllllmonster that devastated man's resting impurities |
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