• Last Seen: 5 mos ago
  • Old Guild Username: RyuHll
  • Joined: 11 yrs ago
  • Posts: 490 (0.12 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. RyuHll 11 yrs ago
  • Latest 10 profile visitors:

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Silence descended over the warehouse. No one said a word. The sprawled out Rat moaned in pain from the blow, waiting until the majority of the attention was off of him to sneak away. Will, from his spot in the crowds, used a finger to push his glasses up on the bridge of his nose before turning to talk quietly to a nicer dressed man beside him. The champ himself...just looked unimpressed.

"Tiny wants a fight?" he asked. "Fine. This won't take long." He reached up, cracking his neck to the side before stepping forward. "I'll even let the 'nuke' have the first blow." He smiled condescendingly at Jack as a roar of laughter came from the crowd. It was clear who they thought would win.

Not that they were wrong. The man was massive and Jack was untrained. Whatever plan Will had for him to win was not disclosed. It was too late to back out now, though.
Will was understandably delighted at hearing the man would take part in his plan. Unfortunately, not much else was given other than the fact that neither of them should know each other. He was given brief instruction on how to act, but that was the extent of it. When Jack arrived, he was too take a look at the area they'd be fighting in and prepare whatever he needed to fight. After that, he was to wait until the main event for the top spot in their underground circuit. The Iron Giant versus Richie. That was when the plan would be put into action.

As Jack arrived, he'd find the pier in decline. A few ships lined the docks, but the further he went, the less activity he found. Nearing the end, one warehouse was left open, lights spilling into the dark wood of the docks. Voices could be heard inside, cheering or booing for their respective champions. It was still in the early stages, though. The champion wouldn't fight until the lower ranked fighters got their chance first. He was saved as the main event for those interested in a strong bodyguard for the illicit organizations around the city.

As it turned out, there were two fighters in the large ring, a rather flimsy wooden board stacked on cinder blocks. Well, a few flimsy wooden boards. The two fighters were going at it in an all out brawl, throwing punches and kicks at any time they could in the center of the ring. Neither had much skill but that was expected of the lower ranked fighters. The crowd was made up of the same thugs Jack would otherwise avoid on the streets, but mixed in were a few men in suits that he would otherwise take as respectful businessmen. Among them, somewhere, Will was supposed to be stationed, all but ignoring Jack's presence. The two, after all, were not supposed to be affiliated.

The fights went on for a while, no major incidents occurring in that time. However, after only a few of them, an announcer came on the stage. He was just as much of a thug as the rest of them, but he had a megaphone to be heard over the roar of the crowds. "Now, we'll have our champ fight. The Iron Giant!" A large man hauled himself up to the stage. He was a behemoth of a man, easily twice Jack's side with pure muscle. His hair was cut short in a military style and he wore a plain green tank top with jeans that showed off the massive amount of muscles on the man. This was the man that Jack was meant to fight. The champ who had never lost a single match. And the person he was meant to replace...

"He will fight our up and comer...Richie the Rat!" the announcer continued. A lanky man was making his way through the crowd, his face betraying his nervousness. This was where Jack had to make a move. He had to knock out Richie and take his place. Luckily for him, the man was terrified of the champ. He wanted out. This would be as simple as giving Richie a good punch and demanding a challenge from the Iron Giant.
Will didn't look too surprised when the other man picked up the knife. A normal reaction to being attacked. He'd get used to it with his living environment. "Well...okay then...I don't suppose I can have my knife back? Dangerous neighborhood and all," he commented. "Ah, probably is too much. I'll...uh...well, just return it when you get the chance. Maybe at the fights. Here, have my card, in case you wanna reach out." He procured a small business card. It was rather nice, compared to the dank area, the fancy lettering and paper making it seem out of place in the apartment. He placed it down on the counter with one more sheepish smile. "Address is on the back. For the fights I mean. At least think about it. It's good money, you'll win."

With that, he stepped away, moving back out of the apartment. Though, as an afterthought, he poked his head back in. "Think about getting a new lock too. Someone could've tried to kill you here, for Christ sake. It's not like the country." That was the last he said, retreating out of the room again and...seemingly leaving as he did not come back into the apartment, leaving Jack with the knife and the business card.
Will paused there, considering what to say. Then he shrugged. "It's hard to explain, but I think you can beat them. I'm already well known so my winnings would be much worse to bet on myself," he explained. "It might be easier to show." He reached behind himself before he drew out a small object. Flicking his wrist, a blade snapped out. In a quick movement, Will darts forward. However, something strange happens in the instant before it occurs. He sees the trajectory of the knife, where Will is moving, and his body begins to move to defend himself without a second thought, moments before the movements actually happened.

In an instant, the reporter's wrist is twisted back, the blade dropped to the floor harmlessly. Despite the situation, the man grinned in response. "I think you'll do fine enough in the matches."
"Something that has nothing to do with mechanics, I assure you," Will said brightly with a small laugh. "I'll level with you. I like to report on criminal activity around the city. Not the safest profession, but no one else seems to have the balls to. One of my underground contacts linked me to a gathering. It's basically a fighting ring where those who want prestige in the underworld go. If you have talent, you might be approached by those hiring for bigger name thugs. It's this complicated hierarchy I've been trying to crack for a while. That's not important, though. What's important is the pay out for this type of thing. You see, the other thing they like to do is gamble. The newbie is always the one who has the lowest chances of winning. In short, I want to bet on you beating their top fighter. We'll split the profit 50-50."
Will laughed at that. "No, you're right. I'm not here to kill you," he replied. His eyes lingered on the refrigerator the boy was currently fumbling with, an interested gleam coming to his eyes. "On the contrary, I'm here to offer you a job. It'll be high paying, but one time only. I figured from the fact that you came to this place you might be having a rough time at actually finding something. Especially with these credentials..." He rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately, this is nothing in your field so it'll do jack shit for you when trying to find a auto shop that'll take you, but it might help you get a little bit of extra money." He grinned a bit at the thought, walking over to peer behind the fridge so he could see if the other man was interested.
'Joey' paused briefly, looking down at his jumpsuit for a moment. “Oh, right. Joey,” he said, blinking. “Sorry, no. Name's Will. Was...loaned this, I guess.” He unzipped the uniform to reveal a black t-shirt, leaving the bottom half still up. “I was just there for a report. I'm a writer for the newspaper. You know, makes me more knowledgeable about what I'm writing. This Joey guy was killed a week ago. Mugging, I heard. Pretty sure I wrote about it too.” He scratched his chin in thought, but then shrugged. He didn't give much thought to the people who died, but why would you in this city? It happened too often to count.

“Anyway, yeah. Gum. Sure.” He reached into the pocket of his uniform, tossing over a pack. “You can keep it. I'll pick up more on the way home today.” He looked at the other man skeptically for a moment before shaking his head. “So you aren't freaked out at all about the stranger who just kind of walked into your apartment? That kind of shit is gonna get you stabbed in these parts.”
Joey held his hand up, refusing the drink. “Thank you, though,” he responded. His eyes scanned the room quickly, looking over the state of his apartment. It was about what he'd expect from the Blight. It was barely liveable. Good enough for these standards, though. “You know, I'm surprised. Are strangers breaking in and sitting in your living room a norm for you country boys?” He looked back to the other man curiously, slowly getting to his feet as he spoke.
As Jack peered inside, he did indeed find someone waiting for him. The man didn't seemed all too concerned, though, sitting on a chair that he had moved to the back of the room. He leaned against the wall with his chair, staring at the ceiling vacantly. The man wore a dark blue jumpsuit, something he had come to notice was rather common for mechanics in this town. The label on his breat read “Fine Tunings,” one of the placed he had attempted to look for employment from. The name tag read simply “Joey.” That was the only indication of who he could be, not that it did the resident of this apartment much good.

Only a moment passed before the man blinked and looked back towards the doorway. “Oi, finally. I've been waiting for an hour,” he groaned, letting the chair drop back to all four. “You're that country boy, right? Archer?”
It had been two months. It would have been expected that Jack could find a job in that first one, but that didn't seem to be the case. Without many credentials other than his family owned business in a small town, no local mechanic would hire him. The savings he had with him when he left are dwindling under the expensive rent that is expected every month. With the way things were, he'd be lucky if he could manage another two months. He'd be forced to vacate and head back home if that were the case, something that would not be in his best interests, considering his reasons for leaving.

Worse than that, the city hasn't been as glorious as it was made out to be. In most small towns, the big city is supposed to be where people go to make their fortune. It was a place of opportunity, somewhere that anyone could become someone. However, that was far from the case. Even with his savings, Jack could only afford one of the lower class residents, a small apartment in the neighborhood lovingly referred to as the “shit stain” of the city by the locals. The more common phrasing for it was just called the “Blight.” It was the blight of this city, a stain on its reputation, so the name stuck. This was where the druggies resided. It was a place that most did not want to be walking around at night. If you were, you were probably up to no good. It didn't help matters that the police just didn't seem to patrol this area at all.

That was the neighborhood Jack returned to after a long day of trying to find a job. The decrepit old building, run down from old age and neglect, stood looming over the street. His apartment had a lovely view of the dank alley behind it.

While nothing ever really seemed right with this place, something did strike Jack as off as he finished the ascent to his floor. The door to his apartment was wide open.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet