The Spit 6:17

"Depends how well she can hold her drink, doesn't it?"

Evelyn smirked and gulped down one shot, and another before gulping most of her drink. She held a smug smile while narrowing her eyes at the man to her left.

"Is that a challenge I hear?" She chuckled before she called the bartender again. "Gonna need a line of shots here! This douchebag thinks I'm a lightweight!!" She then leaned against the backrest of her seat with an arm slung over the side as she positioned one leg loosely pointing out with her other leg being tucked and resting on the stool's bar keeping her leg raised. She kept the smug look on as she stared down the man before chuckling to herself. "So you got a name, papi?" she sipped her drink again while looking over to the man on her right. "You too hun, got a name or shall I call you cupcake?" She giggled when he shook his head and dismissed her for a crazy fool. She set her finished drink down on the bar again for the bartender to take. Her line of shots were ready and she more than happily took one in each hand and set one down next to the man's whiskey on her left side.

"Come on, share a drink with a pretty lady?"

Without waiting for a response, she downed her shot and looked over to the cage fight to see Darth and his new opponent, a woman with teal hair who appeared to be drunk trying to remove her jacket while those around laughed. Some flirtations were exchanged but what caught her eye was the simple movement of the woman leaning her head into Darth's hand only to stare directly at the incoming right hook. She gave props to the woman who fooled her into thinking she was actually drunk, albeit crazy all the same. A grin had grown when she looked back over to the man on her left again.

"She's one hellova tough cookie that girl. Perhaps a small wager? And don't worry, you won't lose much, just pay my tab yea?"

"The name's Derrick, pretty lady. But you can call me Dee. What do they call you?" He said as he grabbed the shot between his finger, his eyes on her as he spoke, a friendly, almost charming smile on his face. He looked towards the cage, the next fight having begun, a teal haired woman in a fight with Darth. She had some nice moves, but his confidence was still with the man in that cage. He turned his attention back to the task at hand, his fingers around the shot in front of him as he brought it upwards and downed it.

"What do I get when, I mean, if I win? Do I get to take you out on a date or something?" Derrick asked as he reached for another shot. Before he moved to drink another he looked back at fight, a smile on his face. "I'm taking Darth. The girl looks tough but he hasn't let me down when I've bet on him. Won forty off two chumps in the fight before." He added with another smile.

"I'll try not to drink you under the table too much." Derrick added as he motioned for her to take a shot as it was her turn.

Instead of an answer to Vander's question, the words that next flew out of Audrey's mouth sounded like an accusation. “What kind of awful place is this? That man – he’s butchering people like meat! Why don’t you stop him?”

There was a delay in her response. Perhaps it was the tail end of the Lucid high making her brain foggy, but for several seconds, the dark-haired woman could only stare, trying to figure out exactly what it was that Audrey was asking her to do. Stop the fight? Why? And more importantly, how? It wasn't as though she could walk into the cage and request they take it outside. The 'why' didn't register in her mind until after she had processed the impossibility of 'how'. Perhaps Audrey knew the teal-haired girl that had stepped into the ring? A stream of half-formed ideas flitted quickly through Vander's mind before the true reasoning became clear.

This woman was from Zone Alpha. It was as simple as that. Of course they didn't have cage fighting in Alpha. Something that, to Vander, was as commonplace as the hookers on the street corners, was likely traumatizing and foreign to someone who had never left the more affluent regions of New Ancora. To Audrey, fights were a thing to be feared and avoided, not a form of entertainment. Shame lingered at the back of Vander's mind. She had grown up so used to this type of brutality that it didn't even phase her. While she was far too peaceful an individual to ever step into the ring herself, trying to stop a fight was something that had never crossed her mind."I can't," she answered, shaking her head. "It's not butchering. It's...sport."

She doubted the weak explanation would be enough for Audrey. The first few punches had already been thrown, and the true extent of the violence was becoming apparent. The man in the ring was the reigning champion, and had no desire to lose - even to a woman. The teal-haired stranger, who had appeared initially drunk, showed to be just as ruthless.

Kat
I walk into the pulsing noise of the Spit, a raucous place of violence, organized and not, and narcotics, legal and not.
I spare a brief glance at the fighting pit, it's the main pull for this place. In it a drunk young woman is going up against a blandly handsome, thuggish 'bad boy'. I roll my eyes and continue scanning the place for Mawali, looking around the throng gathered around the fight. For once he's by himself, he must be feeling confident enough tonight that he thinks he doesn't need security.
I see him before he sees me, short, skin darker than mine, a heavily broken nose, and gaudy jewelry covering his fingers and neck. I pass by the bar, and I see man flirting with a girl who looks barely old enough to have graduated school. I feel a flicker of recognition when I see her, as if I've known her sometime before, or perhaps her sister.. But I let it go. If it still bothers me, I can ask her if we've met later.
I've closed half the distance to Mawali when he notices me, and he lets out a sort of breathy squeak before he turns and runs away from me, shoving past the rest of the crowd.
Motherfucker.
I try and push myself past the crowd, yet I'm moving slower than I'd like, and I fear I'm going to lose Mawali.
Reaching into my jacket, I flash my badge, "BoD OFFICER! CLEAR THE WAY!"
The only people who notice are the ones right next to me and they move away from me, watching in bland interest as I sprint after Mawali down the corridor cleared by the amused people in the club.
He throws a table onto the ground behind him as he runs, and I trip on it, hitting the ground hard. People are milling benignly around me, not sure if they should help me up or not. Nobody is apprehending Mawali either, afraid of his status as a crime lord, or just because they dislike me more than him. Most seem to think that this is a game or something, and are cheering. Most are focused on the fight, ignoring the unfolding drama behind them.
By the time I pull myself up, I see him slamming open the door to the basement. There must be an exit done there. SHIT.
I heave myself forwards, scrabbling off the ground and towards the door.
I slam into the door, forcing it forwards-
and get tripped by Mawali, who was hiding behind the door waiting to take me out. Swearing, I grapple for a second with Mawali, pulling him off balance, making him tumble down the rusted metal stairs with me.
The wrestling fight with him as we fall down the stairs is almost comical, as we struggle to get the upper hand while the stairs bounce and rattle on us.
Halfway down the stairs, he lands heavily on top of me. I get my legs underneath him, and kick upwards, throwing him off me. He goes flying, apparently I kicked harder than I thought, and smashes down to the bottom of the stairs. A panicked wheeze coming out of him as he lands. I'm struggling to stand up, the air has been knocked out of me. By the time I get up, unsteadily, I see that Mawali has vanished.
The basement is a storage room [url]dimensionsinfo.com/wp-content/uploads/.. And he must have disappeared into the shelves of cheap liquor and cleaning supplies. It's lit by a browning illumination strip on the ceiling, casting most of the room into shadows. I descend the stairs, liquid knuckles in hand.
"Mawali? Don't fight me here. You'll spend some time behind bars, I know. But you come out now, and you behave well in prison, I'm certain that they'll treat you nicely. You keep struggling though, and I'm going to have no choice but to use lethal force."
As if in response to that statement, I hear a scuff of a heel on the cement, a grunt, and then the entire room is cast into darkness.
When the music from upstairs stops it's muffled resonance, I realize that he shut off the power.

The debate was actually more interesting that he had thought it was going to be. After they pulled the student speaker from the crowd it proceeded to be a bloodbath from there on out. The girl made some valid points, from the view of someone who had no idea what was going on, but it wasn't until that some pompous professor or something wagered the girls entire academic career against her theory that the fireworks actually kicked in.

In a well deserved outraged other students and others that shared the same opinion of what happened began their aggressive behavior towards those with the money and the pull to effectively call security to come and bust up the riot before it started. Suddenly realizing that he was an unwarranted Beta resident within a high standing Alpha district, and in possession of a highly illegal firearm, Alex quickly and quietly made his way out and away from the debate hall and back outside where he once again lit up a smoke.

As he sat there taking long and purposeful drags off his cigarette he noticed the young woman who's future was now in question sitting and fuming angrily about the politicians within. As he looked on from a distance he noticed some of the rioters that had come out of the building and had begun a slow arcing circle around the angry woman and started whispering to each other. Deciding to keep his distance Alex kept to his cigarette while keeping a cybernetic hawk's eye on the situation that was about to escalate.

Trying to steel her quickly deteriorating emotions, Kate took in a deep breath of fresh air - a striking contrast to the humid, almost claustrophobic atmosphere within the science building. Unfortunately, the night-time crispness that entered her lungs didn't improve her mood or her shaking nerves, suddenly glad that she had made the decision to sit on a nearby bench after being issued outside by security. Why had she been issued outside, though? It wasn't as though it was for her own safety seeing as the moment she was escorted out of the building, the officers left her to her business. No, if this was about her safety, they would have seen her home... or to the school... or... some place other than just outside the damn building.

Something was up; and it didn't take someone with Kate's adept mind to realize that. First there was the prospect of her speaking to the board of science directors on an issue that she had no personal hand in. She was told it was by invitation; a class exercise to understand what sort of futures they had to look forward to. She was caught completely blind-sighted and student or not, Kate knew that these sort of things don't just happen. And then there was the outlandishly outrageous response. Sure she hadn't exactly been prepared, but her points were valid and she had enough evidence to back it up - but she never got the chance. She had a single opening statement and one remark, neither of which were unjust, offensive or misleading. She provided facts, and before she could blink she was on a time clock to the end of her career- no, the end of her life as she knew it.

Well... she wasn't going to get anything accomplished just sitting there. With a berated sigh, Kate pushed herself up from the bench, allowing her thin fingers to run through her hair in an effort to relieve some of the pressure she felt at her hairline where a headache was quickly approaching. To say that she was infuriated would have been a large underestimate, but Kate was better than that, more dignified. No matter how tempting the idea was of turning to face the building and shout obscenities and wave two choice fingers - one on each hand, she refrained, folding her arms across her chest in a slight self-hug as she became acutely aware that it had started to sprinkle down a light mist of rain.

"Whiskey and a coat. My Kingdom for a shot of whiskey... and a coat..."

She was acutely aware of the growing numbers appearing around her as the mass began to filter outside, but she kept her head down and allowed her long legs to carry her away from the scene, ignoring the whispers as she passed them by like she was some disease.

The woman began taking her leave of the area, head ducked and feet moving as quickly as they could take her. Upon further examination, Alex noted that a few broke off from the initial group and began to follow her in her exit. Taking advantage of the few benefits of having cybernetic parts, Alex zoomed in on one of the smaller group as he turned and said something to his comrades, the faint glisten of gunmetal against the backdrop of neon and rain catching his eye. Making quick steps to close the gap, Alex felt a sickening feeling in his gut tighten. He had seen these tactics before, he had felt these kind of tactics before and he was going to be damn sure that no one was going to have to suffer that again.

Now within perfect firing range, Alex placed and cold robotic hand on the handle of his pistol, but stayed it for a moment. Again he had to remind himself of his position and what would happen if he were to try and cowboy his way out of this situation instead relying on another tactic to try and help them out. Making a wide arc around the group to approach the girl on her side, Alex walked over in a seemingly warm embrace, acting as the girls father in the hope that it would fool those that followed her.

"Hey there kiddo! What are you doing walking alone in the rain, ya would've thought that you just lost you boyfriend. I was so proud to see you in the debate, your mother would have loved to see it."

Upon sheer instinct, Kate's body immediately recoiled at the sudden, unexpected touch though her heels, as experienced as she was in them, betrayed her step which inadvertently forced her back into the body of the man who was attempting to hug her. Her hands shot up, one still clutching her digital notepad she had been using to take notes, but used it as much as she could to press against the man's chest in an effort to get away. Her stomach muscles clenched, her throat dry as nonsense sounds tumbled from her lips at having exactly no idea what she was supposed to do.

"What are-"

Leaning in close to whisper in her ear Alex spoke,

"Don't panic, there is a group of armed gunmen behind you just follow my lead and do whatever I say understand?"

His whispered words had her body going completely rigid. A tendril of ice shot down her spine as her mind quickly tried to play catch up as to what was going on. This man... the one who had nearly sent her into cardiac arrest by hugging her... he was trying to... help? Kate blinked her eyes, the only sign that she was even still alive until after a small moment, tentatively relaxed her body, allowing her hands to slide over his chest and shoulders to wrap around the back of his neck and return what was supposed to be a loving embrace, but Kate never felt so cold and it had nothing to do with the current weather.

She could feel herself shaking against him, her mind drawing a complete blank. What was he saying before he had told her what was really going on? She could feel her eyes moving on their own accord to look behind her, to confirm that what the man was saying was true. She only got a glimpse of a group of people before paranoia began to set in and she jerked her head back, her hug tightening around his neck for a moment until something else began to register in her mind...

He reeked of smoke.

Exhaling a small breath, Kate pushed herself out of his arms and gave him a quick nod, taking it upon herself to straighten out the wrinkles in her dress to give her something to do.

"Thanks, but I got an update to code." Kate responded with a slight tremor in her voice. She wasn't really ever one for acting and though she wasn't exactly playing by this man's fabricated story, it still worked. At least, she thought it did. But then again, could she even trust this guy? He didn't exactly look like he belonged in District 4... his clothes were a bit on the shabby side and the facial hair he grew a bit less kept up than those within her district. For all she knew, he was in on it, just as the men behind them were.

The woman began noticeably shaking against him as he informed her of their predicament. As they continued walking towards the road, she said something about having to update a code and took off without him, leaving him there in the rain. As the group of people came up behind him, one man pressed the cold steel of a gun barrel against his back, muttering something about his wallet. It was truly amazing just how these creeps managed to sneak themselves into such a tight-knit security district such as 4. Then again, the science debate was just the right sort of excuse the smart ones used to their advantage to grant them temporary access. Feeling an old familiar hatred well up within him, Alex turned to face the group of thugs, drawing his modified Auto-9 hardball long slide, the barrel and square face of the gun resting comfortably against the kids forehead.

"Now listen here bucko, I used to drag pieces of shit like you out of the river on a daily basis. I have stared the Devil in the face and came back a man with very little patience... so you're going to back away slowly and maybe I won't drill one through your skull. Comprende?"

With the thugs now sufficiently scared shitless and running for their lives, Alex turned his attention back to the woman who had managed to find her way into the streets crosswalk without thought or concern to get to the parking lot on the other side. As he closed the distance between them, Alex caught the glare of a headlight coming straight for her. He charged towards her praying, that she would look up, the sound of the horn blaring out everything.

There was a sudden, metallic bite that infiltrated into his mouth as blood began to pour from Deon's nose. It was impossible to hear over the incessant noise of the crowd, but he could definitely feel the cartilage collapsing in on itself, bending and twisting in ways the flexible, connective tissue was never meant to. Deon had barely gotten the look of surprise off his face before the woman's knee connected with his stomach and though she held a great amount of power in those thin legs, it simply wasn't enough to penetrate past the dense, corded muscle to relieve the wind from his lungs.

He staggered back a few steps, finally given a chance to think as he raised his head up slowly to connect his yellow eyes with the female's impossible blues across from him and split his lips into a bloody smile. Taking a moment, Deon used his tongue to gather what blood he could from his mouth and like a practiced art form, spat it out onto the floor between the two of them.

"You fucking bitch!" Deon laughed out, not at all angry that she had bested him in the beginning and then, in a gesture that was nothing short than complete disrespect and mockery, Deon bent his body over at his torso, ignoring the small, throb of pain from where her knee had collided into him and mimicked a half-assed bow like he was some sort of gentleman.

"Have I got your attention, baby?"

This elicited another laugh from Deon, amusement despite the increasing throb of pain from his nose as blood continued to mix in with his sweat-matted skin.

"You know... sneaking into the back room and waiting for me naked would have done the same thing." he suggested, using the back of his arm in an attempt to wipe the blood still streaming from his nose before extending out his now bloodied arm, hand palm-up as he beckoned her towards him. "But let's see what ya got anyway. Bit of daddy issues hidden behind those blue eyes? One time too much for him to force himself inside you before daddy's little princess snapped and decided 'no more'?" Deon smirked and dropped his arm, standing there in the open seemingly defenseless as he shook his head, as though he pitied her in the story he fabricated on the spot.

Elizabeth enjoyed watching him bleed. The red, glistening as it mixed with the sweat that beaded across his body. She felt the look suited him... or maybe it was just her tendencies taking over... but with that big, arrogant grin plastered on his face, he almost looked like a badass. Almost. Another exhalation of air was taken as the hitman steadied her pulse, eyes boring into the man across from her as he babbled about 'daddy issues.' Why was it always, always, daddy issues? She'd thought he'd at least be more original. She made a halfhearted effort to chuckle, the small little burst of noise nothing compared to the crowd beyond the bars. A slow blink again shut her eyes to the world for just a second, before her head tilted ever so slightly to the left, the predatory, hungering look in her eye clouded by the contacts she wore.

"You talk too much."

Three quick steps was all it took for Elizabeth to close the distance. Putting the equally tall fighters within each others reach, the teal haired woman's right foot flew up, no feint masking the leg as it struck out low towards his left knee, coiled muscles adding speed as the hunter again timed her strikes to the beating of the heart. Pulse one. Momentum, built up from such a forward approach, was what gifted both speed and power to her left fist, and as it came up, the crowd could see Deon's first strike mirrored as it flew towards his jaw, timed perfectly in the split moment between heartbeats. Pulse two saw the kicking leg touch ground, balance shifting as the other leg coiled between the fighters, lashing out to put the distance between them. It was an age old tactic. Close the distance, land the combos, make some space. Over and over, it had won Elizabeth fights; over and over, it had set her up. But now, she was in a cage. There was only so much distance she could put. And she saw that a little too late.

Nothing short of experience kept Deon's body upright as the girl began to wail down on him, determined to shut him up or some other shit that he didn't particularly care about. He'd let her have her fun. Hell, maybe he'd even draw it out for a whole three rounds. The crowd was liking the show enough as his ears were ringing in a high-pitched frequency but he didn't care much for the crowd now. All there was, was him and her, opponents locked in a match that had his blood pumping hot. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so exhilarated despite the growing aches and pains coming from his body.

Finally, he had his chance. Her leg was attempting to put distance between them - a tactic he knew from others who used the 'hit and run' fighting style. Well he wasn't going to have it. His body moved with hers as she fell back, using his own momentum to wrap his arms around her thin frame and as he continued to push forward, twisted her body and pulled her back flush against his chest, his thick arms trapping her own between their bodies. Continuing his motion, he sent the both of them in a small spin, gathering up enough centripetal force until Deon had the woman's back slamming down onto the mat, his body falling with hers though he had enough time to plan to stick his leg out and keep him from landing on her body completely, putting only an inch or two between them as he hovered over her.

Blood from his nose began to drip down onto her face as he issued her another, cocky smile, his arms making sure he had her upper body pinned.

"You know, cunts like you should just learn to stay on your backs."

For the fewest of moments, Elizabeth didn't even try to think or struggle, the pain all across her back sending waves through her body while her head pulsed from the collision. He had, admittedly, surprised her. The swings had all connected so beautiful, had spurred her lust for violence to the point she was on high. It hadn't hit home that he could counterstrike until she'd already been laid out, the moment lost in a blur of muscles and tension. And now, here she was, pinned down by her own self indulgence. It felt all the more exhilarating.

She could feel him above her as much as see him. His breathing, the tempo off beat, his heat, sweat dripping down his skin and onto her clothing. His blood, crimson as it fell onto her cheek. It was... intimate, to say the least, a moment she capitalized on by narrowing her eyes, looking sultry almost as she soaked in his words. The tension around them could almost be felt by the crowd, but in one swift moment, it was cut in half. She began to laugh. Soft, low, nearly inaudible, but all the same, the beginnings of a chuckle formed on her lips, head angling to the left as it grew. She felt alive, dragged into the moment with the greatest of enthusiasm. And as the crowd leaned in to figure out what exactly was going on, her head snapped forward, the laugh stopped abruptly as she made to smash Deon's nose yet again, her right foot sliding up as a knee went for below the belt.

It was apparent he'd expected the headbutt - it was an easy dodge on his part. But these men had a secret code of honor in the ring, whether they realized it or not, like what not to hit, and Elizabeth had no qualms. The satisfaction she felt as kneecap met soft flesh was vast.

Deon's eyes slammed shut as pain flooded from his nether regions and into his brain, rendering him unable to move for a few short seconds. He held it together, however, only eliciting a quick intake in breath followed by an aggravated groan as his body slumped off of hers, rolling over onto his back next to her and then over onto his side. His hand, by male habit, moving to check himself over through his pants as though that would help to numb the pain.

"Man," Deon wheezed out, though his deep growl of pain slowly receded into a pained-laugh as he rolled back over onto his back. "you're all about the cheap shots, today. Aren't you?" It was unclear in his voice whether he was bashing, or complimenting her tactics though the Cheshire Cat worthy grin that spread across his face afterwards pointed towards the latter.

Few things illustrated pain better than facial expressions. The one on Deon's face was priceless. But what Elizabeth enjoyed most was the sense of freedom as his fat ass rolled off, releasing her with a loud groan of agony. The casual manner in which Elizabeth simply leaned up, pushing up to stand as if getting out a chair, simply rubbed salt in the wound. All around the metal caging, men whooped and hollered, the women clapping while an occasional boo sounded for the low blow. Even Elizabeth had to admit, the atmosphere was... intoxicating. Trotting away with the confidence of a lion, each step was carefully placed before the other as she began to circle to finish her 'kill,' rolling her shoulders while she locked her hands together, cracking the knuckles in the iconic manner of showboat fighters.

"I have to say, you did surprise me." The huntress turned around, her eyes gazing hungrily at Deon with a half hooded appearance, a glaze over them due to the contacts. "I was expecting to take a few real hits. It's disappointing, really." It was her turn to shake her head in mock shame, a hand on each hip as she cocked her head to the side. "Who knew it would take a woman to turn you into a bitch." The slightest of smirks chanced across her face as she watched Deon, before what seemed to be confusion took its turn on her features. A light flutter of eyelashes, and her left hand was raised almost dramatically to her cheek, touching where Deon's blood ran down her features. Her eyes never left him as she began to smear the blood in a line, moving in an arc down towards her chin as the crimson formed a mark on her flesh. The flair with which her wrist twisted at the end, bringing her bloodstained fingers between her line of sight and Deon, was the touch of an actress, and as the smile on her face grew, she glared at Deon over the top of her hand.

"Let's finish this, showboy."

Deon had propped himself up on his elbows, his bare abdomen muscles flexing to keep him upright as he watched, and listened to her showboat around his arena with a mock grin on his face. The pain was all but pushed into the back of his mind, his thoughts instead focusing on the confident girl in front of him who truly was a lot more than she seemed. He had faced women in the right before though not very often. The majority of them were 'roided up dykes with nose piercings and shaved heads with tattoo sleeves and fishy-smelling breath. He wasn't sure where the hell this one had come from, but he was glad for the encounter. She was a lot like him, however, and that posed as a problem. There could only be one cocky, arrogant, badass, mother-fucking cage fighter.

"Ooohh, baby girl..." Deon responded, dragging out his words a short while as he shook his head. Supporting himself with his arms, Deon kicked his legs back a bit, his back rolling up against the mat towards his neck and with a quick kick and a strengthened push from the palms of his hands, Deon was back on his feet, standing straight from his bended-knees and extended out both of his arms as he faced her. "We've only just started."

It was his turn. He was done playing the cat-and-mouse game. He had taken her attacks, biding his time, having fun, but the bitch was right - it was time to end this. He had a reputation to keep up, after all.

He took a moment to bounce on the balls of his feet, swinging his arms around a bit to warm up his muscles, a sly grin creeping over his face as he simply watched her, reveling in the fact that she had no idea what sort of pain was in store for her. Then, he anchored down one foot after the other, his torso bending and using the built-up energy in his feet, took off like a bullet with the strength of his calves propelling him forward. No hesitancy. No showboating. This was going to hurt.

As the lights turned out, everything from bright light to pitch black, Elizabeth had enough time for one word.

"Fuck."

The cage door swung open, the metal creaking on it's rusty hinges managing to reach Deon's ears through the sounds of panic from within the room and his fists colliding with whatever part of the body they could find in the darkness. He didn't care how, or why the lights went out. The bar fuckers probably didn't pay their electric bill again or something. Power outages weren't all that uncommon at The Spit... which gave Deon just the right amount of experience to continue the fight - whether the patrons were able to watch or not. The cage was his throne, he knew every nook and cranny better than the back of his hand, splitting, bloody knuckles and all. He had oftentimes heard those betting against him that if he was so good, why not fight blindfolded? Well... this was essentially the same thing.

"Darth. DARTH!"

A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves underneath and around Deon's shoulders, pulling him off of the bitch he had sights on to kill. He knew the voice - all too well it seemed as the moment it reached his ears, he could feel his drive of blood-lust fading. Like losing an erection because something reminded you of your mom, or, something like that. The arms, however, didn't belong to the short, portly man that called himself Deon's manager which only meant he had found some bouncer jackass to do all the heavy lifting for him.

"The fuck you on about, Cal? The fight's still good!" Deon protested, jerking himself out of the grasp of the bouncer to stand on his own two feet again.

"Shut yer yap, Muhammad Al-Asshole. We got a BoD agent here an' 'ntil I figure out what the hell she wants, you're done!"

Describing what it's like to be hit by a freight train...it's painful, to be put plainly. But it didn't matter how much the swings hurt, with the base of her neck throbbing, her ribs aching, and her shoulder likely dislocated, Elizabeth could still move when she heard 'BoD." Three cursed letters that shouldn't ever be strung together. From her place hunkering against the cage, arms thrown protectively over her face, thought didn't even exist as the hitman ducked down and to the left of the voices, legs carrying her with haste a she crouched in the corner and began to feel around. Props to her for wearing a black leather jacket. Hand met fabric, and with a groan due to a newly earned ache in her hip, legs pushed her up against the metal as she felt her way along and to the door. The panic didn't register, nor the cries of Darth and his crew. All that mattered was getting into the crowd, and out of sight. Then, maybe, she could rest.

"I'll try not to drink you under the table too much." Derrick joked and motioned for her to take a shot since it was her turn. She laughed heartily at the idea of him holding out longer than she only to shake her head with an amused smile.

"It's Evelyn.. no short nick name given." She took her shot and raised it to Derrick. "If you win... I suppose I can go out on a date.. but this mama here gots a busy schedule so I'mma have to track you down when I'm free." She winked at him and downed the shot.

Evelyn chuckled when he mentioned the two chumps he won a bet with. His faith in Darth was well earned. Darth was the king and the cage his throne after all, but watching the fight continue would give most hardcore gamblers and fans a run for their money.

It showed that Evelyn was amused by how thick the air was with tension. She swiveled her stool so she could rest her back against the bar table. Her hand searched for her next shot glass while facing the cage. She looked over to Dee with a smirk.

"Perhaps lady luck is favoring my side.. but I can't speak too soon or else it just might come back and bite me in the ass." She laughed once more and took her shot setting it back down again. She could faintly feel a light buzz starting to settle in.

She had to blink twice or thrice when she sort of recognized a dark skinned woman with short hair strutting in while staring down a man in the throng of sweaty men and women who smelled of tobacco and alcohol and perhaps a bit of bile. But no sooner had she entered the heavily decorated man she had locked eyes on bolted for it and left for a back room of some sort or something. It was when the woman couldn't keep pace running after the guy that she took out her badge and announced she was a BoD officer. Well shit. If she were to suddenly help the woman everyone will know and recognize her status as an officer. She can't have that... especially in the Beta zones. Her profile would be flagged and everyone will know to stay and not give her the information she needs and such. Evelyn Dion will cease to exist.

She turned around in her seat to fully face the bar and took the single glass left and downed it. She soon refocused her mind and identified herself as Evelyn Dion, normal gal with no connections to the law. Who happens to be at the wrong place at the wrong time while slumming it down in the Beta zones. She then looked over to Dee and about to make an excuse to leave so suddenly and was just about halfway out of her seat when the lights shut off. Evelyn felt her stool lurching forward and some appendage she couldn't tell if it was a hand or shoulder possibly an elbow or maybe a fist or something pressuring itself into her back so suddenly.

"What the shit!?"

Evelyn flew forward from the force and flailed her arms wildly trying to catch her balance or latch onto the bar that seemingly disappeared in the dark. Instead, her left heel was caught on the stool's lower bar leaving her wobbling right foot to hold herself upright unsteadily before losing her only footing and spun, falling backwards right into Derrick as she unintentionally shoved him off his stool while hissing in pain when her elbow collided with what she could only guess was unfortunately Dee's nuts (got 'eeem!). Or you know, somewhere in the crotch area.

"Fuck! I'm sorry.. Shit!" She apologised out of habit and cussed while getting up only to get shoved into the bar as more patrons attempted to leave. She managed to pull herself up and leaned against the bar. No stool, just standing and leaning her back against it. The lights soon came back on probably fixed by one of the guys that worked here and pretending like nothing had happened in the dark she looked over to Derrick with a raised brow.

"Uhh.. You okay?"

"Sport..?"

Croquet was a sport. Track was a sport. For God's sake, even roof-hopping was considered a sport in Alpha! But the vicious spectacle behind netted wire was a public execution. Audrey felt inclined to disagree, to tell the half-haired girl that she misinterpreted the meaning of the word. Then the rowdy cheers and fanfare thundered across the bar again as if to squash her thought beneath their volume. Vander wasn't wrong.. Audrey was. She'd learned about the differences between social climates based on the economy, but the examples in her textbooks were never described like The Spit.

"I see," she muttered, defeated. "Uhm..do you-"

"BoD officer! Clear the way!"

Suddenly a dark male with a hideous nose barreled his way through the crowd. His short, heavy-footed form was heading straight for the stairs with a look of panic that made Audrey's neck hairs stand erect. She thought the wild man would tackle them for some crime they didn't know they committed. Did he want her purse? Had Vander done something illegal? Were they sitting on his stairs? The Alpha woman tensed and squeeled to prepare for the impact, but at the last moment the paniced man turned for a neighboring door with a woman tumbling in after him.

"What was that?" Curiousity pulled Audrey from the stairs for a better view. She could see two figures wrestling in a basement through the door that had been left ajar. "Is this sport, too?" She asked almost sarcastically.

Before Audrey could turn back to Vander (hoping that her comment had been well-received) the world went black. She shuffled sideways until her back was flush against the wall of the staircase, blinking to adjust to the darkness.

"Hey- Hey," she called out. It dawned on Audrey that she'd never asked for Vander's name. "Are you there?"

To the ears of a Lucid addict who has just come down from a high, noises are indistinct. Yes, Vander could focus on her conversation with Audrey, who was very clearly having a time of processing Vander's explanation of fighting as a sport. The focus didn't come as easily as she could with a hit of the drug, but it was not a struggle. Everything else, however, faded into the background. If someone had called her name, he would not have heard them. The punches of the cage fight, the laughter and cheers of the patrons, the heavy beat of the music. All of it blended into a low din in the background. But self-preservation is an amazing thing. Even with her sense impaired, Vander's mind was still able to pick out a single shout from the background noise.

"BoD officer! Clear the way!"

It was as though she had swallowed ice. Growing up in Beta, most people quickly developed a healthy fear of the law. It rarely seemed to protect them, and frequently seemed to persecute them. Vander was no exception. And with the events of the past few years, that fear had grown into paranoia. Paranoia now blossomed into terror. As a general rule, druggies avoid cops. Especially Bureau of Defense. Eyes wide, the fear on her face perfectly matching Audrey, Vander scanned the crowd for the source of the shout.

It wasn't hard, considering that Kat and her target were on a beeline straight for the two women by the stairs. Vander cussed under her breath, backing up against the wall, trying and failing to sink into the shadows. For a moment, she was sure she was the target. She wasn't high, not right now. She had no Lucid on her. But that didn't mean she couldn't be arrested. But not tonight. Before they could collide with Vander and Audrey, the crook and pursuer instead bolted through the door to the basement. "Is this sport, too?" Audrey asked her, leaning in for a better look at the two.

Vander shook her head, heart beating so fast she feared it may actually give out. But before she could answer properly, the lights disappeared. For a second, there was stunned silence. Then noise spiked up around her - an audible blur of gasps and shouts of surprise. Amongst the blur, a voice once again stood out. "Hey- Hey. Are you there?"

But she wasn't. Vander was already moving away, fight or flight taking over. Fight was not an option. So flight it was. In the darkness that had suddenly enveloped the club, the glaring red of the 'EXIT' sign on the opposite wall stood out clearly, and she made a beeline for it.

Unfortunately, a multitude of others in the crowd had the same reaction. Vander made it five steps before she was shoved. Not hard, but enough to make her stumble. She regained her footing, moving again for the exit. A second shove, this time from someone much bigger, which sent her falling into the body of someone to her left. The response was an angry elbow to the chest, hard enough to make her gasp. But the 'EXIT' still glared in front of her, and she pressed on. It took an enormous amount of effort for the skinny woman to fight her way through the crowd.

But finally, her body pressed up against the door. The fire exit dispelled her into a back alley. It was dimly lit, but even to her insensitive eyes, it seemed bright after the darkness of the bar. Breathing in deeply, Vander took a few steps away from the door. Raising a hand, she gently pressed it against her sternum, where the stranger's elbow had collided. It hurt. Nothing was broken, but her deteriorating body bruised easily. Vander leaned against the wall, waiting for her heartrate to return to a more normal pace before continuing anywhere else. She still needed to find Lucid tonight.

Derrick's eyes were on Evelyn as she spoke to him, though they briefly followed the woman who went by both of them after another man who broke into a dash when he noticed her, a minute later she revealed herself to be a BoD agent and all hell seemed to break loose inside of the club. A table on the floor, a law enforcement agent in the club.

The drug dealer felt a cold sweat envelope him for a moment, he wasn't the only criminal in the place, that was for damn sure. But he still was on his nerves as soon as the badge came out. As he moved to take a sip of his drink and calm those nerves, he noticed the strange look on Evelyn's face before the lights went out and she went to the floor, him going down with her in an orgy of sudden chaos.

Then after the pain of his impact with the floor began to dissipate, he felt another, more intense pain in an area where no man ever wanted to feel pain. An elbow to the crotch which caused him to grunt in pain and surprise. He heard footsteps to his side, as people moved to exit the club. He picked himself up, then glanced at Evelyn.

"I'm fine, but you definitely owe me a date after that," He said with a smile, then took a step towards her, his expression more serious. "We might want to get out of here, when one of those people show up, others follow. I'm not huge on getting caught up in a raid or something."

(I never defined liquid knuckles, cause I assumed everyone knew what it was. For those who don't remember, or never read snowcrash, liquid knuckles is a aerosol self-defense item. It's a foam/gel that's released at such high pressures that it can knock someone flat on their ass. Like a punch in a can.)
(Also, I'm not a violent person, and I became incredibly squeamish as I wrote the fight between Kat and Mawali.)
Kat
It takes a second for me to spin my eyes into gear, flickering from baseline spectrum to infrared. It's absolutely pitch black in here. This place isn't up to code, there isn't emergency lighting set up down here. You could hurt yourself if you didn't have a flashlight.
I'm okay if Mawali smacks his shin on something.
The room is made up of long shelves of stock. I'm at the small clearing at the foot of the stairs, an empty space. I presume there's a similar cleared area next to the circuit breaker. That's where Mawali must be. So now he's either hiding there, or he's coming back down along the shelves to where I am. I realize that this place doesn't have a secondary exit. This is it. I've got him cornered. He must have panicked when he ran this way.
I find my can of liquid knuckles and pick it up. I don't know what Mawali is packing, but hopefully my liquid knuckles can stop him before he can respond. To be safe, I set it on my widest nozzle feature. I won't have to aim, just shoot first. I hope it's enough.
I'm crouching, absolutely silent. I can't hear anything, other than the sound of the dull roar coming from upstairs. People are in quite the panic, and they're being rather vocal about it.
I stalk over to one of the aisles of shelving, and peer down it. Empty.
I move slowly down the rows, looking cautiously for sign of movement.
When I reach the second to last row, my foot lands heavily on the concrete, my shoes letting out a squeak. It's barely a noise at all, yet it seems deafening.
It's always the smallest things which are the catalyst for these types of events.
Mawali bursts out of the last aisle, stumbling slightly, and before I can level the liquid knuckles, he turns on a powerful flashlight in my face.
I let out a screech as my vision is blinded, dropping the liquid knuckles as I claw at my face from the aftereffects of the light. Mawali tackles me, dropping the flashlight as he wraps his arms around me, drawing me to the ground.
Blinking back into baseline visuals, I can see the faint illumination of Mawali's face, a crude angry mask with a growling mouth and an oversized nose.
Drawing my head back, I lash forwards, driving my forehead into Mawali's nose, at the same time twisting away from under his grasp.
Mawali reels backwards, clutching at his nose. Pulling my self upright, I jab out with my boot, smashing into his kneecap, driving him back into the ground, sobbing in pain.
"Mawali, you stand convicted of murder, pimping and pandering without permits, possession and distribution of illegal narcotics, possession and distribution of illegal firearms, racketeering, obstruction of justice, attempted bribery of public officials, and tax fraud."
I quickly step behind him, reach into my jacket, and withdraw a pair of handcuffs, which I attach to his hands, pulling his arms behind his back. Pulling him to his feet, I march him back to the circuit breaker, which I turn back on. After a heavy moment, the lights flicker back on again.
I draw my stunner, which I hold close to my body, aimed squarely at Mawali. Reaching into my jacket with my free hand, I trigger my transponder, "Gentlemen, I have apprehended Mawali. I would appreciate your presence inside the building, as there is panic going on, since the lights had been turned off. Have your stunners drawn and ready, but don't shoot. Be calm, and the citizens will follow your lead."
Waiting only to hear their affirmatives, I drop my transponder back into my jacket. Poking lightly at the defeated Mawali, I drive him away from the circuit breaker, past the flashlight and the liquid knuckles, which I pick up, up the rusted metal stairs, and back out into the club proper.
At the entrance of the club, the two rookies stand, trying to be assertive, and not doing their best.

There was only a split second of space between the cage and the crowd, a small moment to collect her thoughts, before Elizabeth's unharmed shoulder collided with some unknown mass. For a brief moment, there was a burst of flailing and cursing, as the hitman bullied her past the first clog. But as she slowed her sprint, she found herself weaving through the surge of panicking patrons, following their mindless charge to best blend in with the crowd. The next few seconds were spent this way, men and women jostling about, unaware to the fighter they'd watched moments ago in their midst, her left arm crossing her body to cover the right shoulder from any reckless crashing. When the lights came on, it was a relief, the herd slowing down while Elizabeth slipped from their ranks, her eyes hooded by her lids as she adjusted to the light.

She was near the bar. Positioned right between the Spit's exit and the cage door. It was almost too perfect, for Elizabeth, who ignored the looks of surprise as she maneuvered her way towards the middle stools, head bent down with eyes darting around for the BoD. But she saw nothing. A breath of air was released, pent up from the rush she'd just experienced, as she reached out with her unhurt arm, spinning a chair around and straddling it with the backing at her front. Two eyes locked on the bartender, dark and menacing behind the hazy films that hid them.

"Hey, barman, get me your most popular!" Almost as if she owned the place, Elizabeth's left arm laid over the back of the stool, head swiveling to the left then right as her chin rested on her hand. Beside her, some couple, so she figured, was talking about getting out of here. Elizabeth let out a small chuckle. The guy was a bitch, probably trying to get the girl alone. But whatever they planned, Elizabeth had a quick task she needed done.

Whatever Evelyn and Dee were talking about was quickly interupted as the hitman spun her stool to face them, a bored expression on her face as she sat up.

"Hey, Ms. Loli, do me a favor." A small wince of pain crossed Elizabeth's features, her right arm extending straight out towards the woman. "See if you can yank the shit out of my arm." Two cold eyes bored into Evelyn as she waited for a response, preferably an action. She didn't even pay attention to the odd glances she was getting from those who'd seen the fight.

The Spit – 7:12PM

”I’m here.”

The low, gravelly voice was close enough to penetrate the cacophony of shuffling feet and murmuring. It wasn’t the soft spoken half-haired girl, Audrey was certain about that. But before she could scream for help the wind was knocked out of her. A fist thrust itself deep into her diaphragm, and she could feel how large it was. Its width kissed both sides of her lower rib-cage.

”Shh. Walk with me or I’ll knife ya’ next, hear me, princess?”

The young woman couldn’t speak. She wheezed violently, gripping the shadowed stranger’s leathered shoulder out of necessity. He followed suit, wrapping one arm around her waist for support and the other around her arm for control. When the lights had flickered back to life, the two were already walking toward the exit – no thanks to Audrey’s gummy legs – looking like textbook drunks.

“Tahh...take whatever…you want,” Audrey croaked through fits of gasping coughs.

”Shut up,” the man ordered.

He squeezed her arm to strengthen his point. The word DEAD in black ink stretched across his white hairy knuckles. The sight made the girl lurch with sickness. Oh, God, I’m going to be gang raped, she thought. I’m going to die because of those two stupid shanks that crowded the street, she raged! Shank? She’d never used that word in her life… but it tasted as familiar as the bile that threatened to spill from her mouth. Why? She had no time to consider it further. Shortly after leaving The Spit, she was forced down a nearby alley and trapped in the trunk of a dirty black car, her screams muffled by three sets of hands.

Trunk of an Unmarked Car – 9:45PM

“LET ME OUT OF HERE!! SOMEBODY HELP ME! IT SMELLS TERRIBLE IN HERE!”

An overwhelming odor had enveloped Audrey for what felt like hours. The heat of the undercarriage only amplified the stench and left the young woman sweating profusely, adding to the overall fetor. She didn’t want to guess what kinds of stains were left on the clothing bundled up beside her, or the type of tools her white flats were pushing against. Knowing would only fuel the fire. But it was increasingly difficult to elude the terrifying thoughts of her seemingly short future. The abductors took everything – her phone, her purse, even her rings. She had no lifeline and no knowledge to help her escape. So she screamed. It was the only thing strong enough, loud enough, to keep the fear from suffocating her.

“LET ME OUT OF HERE!!”

The Asylum – 12:00AM

Johnny Warfing waited impatiently inside The Asylum for his incompetent underlings to arrive with the ‘package’. Normally he wouldn’t take such a matter into his own portly hands, but he’d been waiting for a break like this. He’d worked under the Saito Family for far too long without the pay-out or recognition he deserved. His family, protected and better off than most, still lived in District 16. It was justice that forced him, he’d say. It was necessity for his family!

“Boss,” a short blond-haired man said as he approached the dimly lit table.

“We got’er,” another added, foolishly enthusiastic.

“Keep your mouth shut!” Johnny eyed the surrounding tables suspiciously then narrowed his fat brow. “Do ya’ want that whole God damned District t’hear ya?!”

“Sorry, boss.”

“Shut up,” Johnny scoffed. “Tell me who she is.”

“She’s a looker, even after Carl beat on her,” the enthusiastic man replied after shooting his blond counterpart a questionable glance.

“Access card says she's Audrey Webner. She’s the brat of that well-off treasurer in D2. He’d probably pay us with the Alpha treasury to get her back,” the blond advised. "We got Benny by the car watching her. She's in the trunk."

Johnny’s beady eyes hid behind the folds of his greedy cheeks. A low gurgling laugh bubbled up from his throat. He’d hit the big time.

“Well done gentlemen! If we work this right, we’ll be rich enough to hire the Saito’s ourselves! Haha!”

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

Deon didn't have to have the use of his eyes to know that the blue-haired female had run. It had only taken two words from his agent to light that fire under her ass that he knew to be the trigger. But then again, in a place like The Spit, 'BoD Agent' would have had anyone running. But not Deon. Deon never ran. Even if he had a few things he took great care in keeping off of the surface where cops of any kind would like to stick their long, greasy noses in to get a whiff, as a small-time celebrity within the lower districs, he was protected. More or less. The fight was over and it didn't look as though he would be allowed to be swinging his fists for the crowd any time soon. Not with the bitch BoD sticking her nose around where it didn't belong. Tonight was done... and so was he.

With a low snarl, Deon pushed his way through the cage, going by memory as he stepped outside and maneuvered through the crowd towards the back wall where he had a room to change, get cleaned up from a fight, and even bring back a girl or two for a quick, good time. But what Deon had in mind in that moment was more or less along the 'clean-up' portion. Reaching the hallway, he could hear and faintly see that behind him, the power had been turned on and as he walked through the tight, dark space and finally reached his room, flipping the switch on the old, brick wall confirming it to be true.

Making a beeline to the sink set up in the corner of the room, Deon turned on the leaky faucet and cupped his hands, splashing the cool water over his face in an effort to clean off some of the drying blood from what he knew to be a broken nose. By memory, he reached out his right hand and grabbed a wadded up towel, used for such purposes on a number of occasions, and dabbed his face dry, doing what he could to wipe away the remaining blood with a cracked mirror positioned above the sink as his only guide. Finally, after tossing the towel aside with disinterest, his new area of focus landed on the small shelf on the wall where an assortment of pill and alcoholic bottles took over the space. His hand reached out and grabbed hold of one of the unmarked pill bottles. Using his forearm to twist the cap off, he opened up his palm and caught one of the pills sliding out of the bottle that he had tilted. Not bothering again with the cap, he put the bottle back where he got it and popped the pill into his mouth, swallowing it down without the use of water.

There was a small pause before Deon's teeth grit down hard and his hands braced himself by holding onto both sides of the sink. Hunching over it, shoulder blades pressing together with his head hanging below his shoulders, his grip tightened as a series of surpressed groans of pain passed through his gnashing teeth. He could feel the cartilage in his knose knitting back together, rolling and twisting under his skin, building incredible pressure until finally, there was an audible crack and his nose was righted but not without a final cry of pain coming from the fighter as his nose repaired itself.

Deon took a couple of moments to himself, feeling the white-hot sting of reminescing pain from his nose (also vaguely aware of the same warming sensation in his knee and nether regions) before he sniffed and righted his posture, giving himself a quick look in the mirror. When all he could see were unfamiliar, ghostly-yellow eyes looking back at him, Deon tore himself away and walked to the opposite corner, digging through a small pile of clothes before finding an old, white wife-beater and slipped it on. If he wasn't going to be doing any more fighting tonight, he might as well see what spoils The Spit had to offer him tonight - whether it be by drug-trade or by women. Either way, he wasn't going to find out for another while yet, not with that BoD Agent lingering around.

His yellow eyes landed back on the shelf where he kept the alcohol and pill bottles, landing on a particular container he kept his preferred drug of choice in, but again, there wasn't any way he'd be snorting anything with that agent around, so instead he grabbed a cigarette from it's box and with his opposite hand, the lighter that went with it and left his room, only to take an immediate right through the fire-exit he used frequently to avoid the crowds whenever he wasn't in the mood to entertain.

The cool night air graced his warm skin, the few, sprinkling droplets of what was the beginning of rain misting his toned skin like a gentle, almost-shower. It was... refreshing, for lack of a better word, and calmed him down enough to relax his back against the brick wall, perch his cigarette between his lips and light it up with a slow, deep inhale.

Only when he had stuffed the lighter into his pants pocket did he realize that he wasn't the only one in the back alley-way. It was hard to tell in the dimly lit area, but he was almost certain a girl was standing against the opposite wall, looking somewhat lost or maybe she was just high as fuck on something. Either way, it caused a smirk to cross over his lips as they held his cigarette in place. Perhaps there was a way for him to get what he wanted after all.

"Hey!" he called, unsure how loud he should be given their undetermined state, though it was better to be loud and heard than not. "If you're trying to make a statement by looking like me, you forgot to shave the other side of your head!"

Vander stayed still, leaning against the wall of the street. No one else came out the fire exit. Everyone had either stayed in the bar, or bolted for the front doors. She had a moment to herself, to collect her thoughts. Staying at the Spit now would be pointless. Even if the BOD agent left, everyone would still be on edge. She was on edge. Any dealers would be finding business elsewhere. No one would risk buying, selling, or trading when a cop had just burst through the doors. Especially something like Lucid.

So where else could she go? Over the past weeks, any and all of her previous contacts had been dropping like flies. She had ran out of money, but she'd still had just enough of a reputation in the business to make a few deals. She'd promised to pay later. Promised double. Every time, a bridge was burned. Now, her previous dealers were impossible to get in contact with. She needed to find money, and she needed to find someone with lucid. Where? Avalon? Maybe. But it was near her apartment, a hell of a walk away. She could already feel the faint hints of a withdrawal headache lurking at the back of her mind. Werehouse was closer, and huge. Maybe she would find someone in there.

But if she didn't?

All at once, the hopelessness of it hit her. She had a fraction of a hit of lucid at her apartment. It wasn't enough, it wouldn't do anything. If she didn't restock her supply tonight, the withdrawal would be fatal. Vander wasn't ready to accept that yet. She was nineteen years old, she wasn't ready to die. "Hey!"

A voice called out, interrupting her train of thought. She looked up sharply, only realizing then that she had been staring intensely at the ground, an expression of quickly-growing anxiety on her face. Her gaze fell on a figure on the other side of the alleyway. How long had he been there? "If you're trying to make a statement by looking like me, you forgot to shave the other side of your head!"

Vander stared, open-mouthed, trying to figure out who it was. He couldn't have been more than ten feet away, but her vision was a grey-out. Nothing was sharp like it should be. She stood upright, having been leaning against the wall, and took a half step closer. Just enough for the figure to come into focus. White wifebeater, showing off a well-built body. Cigarette held between his teeth. And, as he had just pointed out, both sides of his head shaved short. The Spit's champion fighter, Darth. She raised a hand, subconsciously brushing the left side of her own head. The shaved half of her hair hadn't been cut in months, and was starting to grow shaggy. "I've had it cut for years," she stated, unsure of how else she was supposed to respond to his comment.

She frowned then, suddenly aware that she was in an otherwise-empty alleyway with a man who made a living off of knocking people unconscious. A perfect recipe for her night to go from bad to worse. "Sorry, I gotta be somewhere else," she said, already turning to walk away. It wasn't a lie. She needed to get to another club and find money and lucid. Werehouse would be her best bet.

"I'm fine, but you definitely owe me a date after that," Dee stepped closer as he became more serious. "We might want to get out of here, when one of those people show up, others follow. I'm not huge on getting caught up in a raid or something."

How interesting...

Just as Dee mentioned about leaving, her quip about the need to avoid the law would soon be interrupted by none other than the woman from the cage. Evelyn can tease the man on a later date if he found her again. "Hey, Ms. Loli, do me a favor." The woman's dislocated arm was extended straight out for her to pull. "See if you can yank the shit out of my arm." A twitch of the brow would be left unseen to the untrained eye.

Ms. Loli..?

"With pleasure."

She complied with Elizabeth's request but held mixed feelings and wondered to take it as a compliment or an insult. With that being the case, she took the arm and without so much as a warning, yanked the fuck out of it and back into place. Perhaps it was a ploy and she expected her to have the brute force needed to set her arm in place. Whatever the reason, she got what she needed and Evelyn would receive a small form of sweet satisfaction payed in the eliciting of her pained moan.