SHF Scribe '10
Post by Toadkiller Dog on Jul 20, 2010 8:27:37 GMT
Bella stood in near awe of the...the creature before her. To call this thing human didn't make logical sense to anything she'd come to learn in her twenty-one years. A brick wall of muscle standing over seven feet tall. A smashed, flattened nose, most likely as the result of having been broken numerous times beset by cold, emotionless gray-blue eyes and topped with slicked back, black hair. It was called Welkin.
Champion and Prime representative of the secretive, yet feared Old Boy Network. Bella had fought her way this far, having tore through some of the Network's lesser members with ease. Beginning to assume the hype behind it to be blown out of proportion. She'd fought gangs before, been part of a few even, but the Old Boy Network wasn't like your average gaggle of street punks. They had codes, rules and above all else a seeking of worthy opponents on the streets that resembled something close to the spirit of a true samurai.
The turn out was impressive for something like this tonight, on a Saturday in an abandoned warehouse. It happened weekly, and every week a few people left with a few less teeth. An amateur fight club of sorts, Bella had picked up the whereabouts from a contact in one of her many night watches. She'd found herself addicted to the thrill of a crowd watching a test of martial prowess between two people. But tonight, tonight something was different. The place was overflowing with jeering, screaming people. Welkin brought this sort of crowd, or so she was told.
Sweat poured over her face, she brushed it away quickly, taking a deep breath. Time seemed to slow down, she could hear her heart beating rapidly. She felt half the size of the monster before her, felt weak, inexperienced and lame compared to it's presence. Her only chance was speed, she had to be faster than this guy, had to be. She was small, agile and quick thinking. She'd stick and move, aim for vitals, try to topple the thing and knock it wear it down slowly until it was fatigued enough to take down. There was no other way.
Bella watched as the beast began to slowly unbutton it's dress shirt, removing it and the suit jacket with one fluid motion and tossing it to the much smaller man beside him. He spoke, his voice rumbling and stern, but not violent. Calling the lesser massed fellow Largo, she couldn't make out much more. The chiseled, rock face of a chest at eye level, looking as solid as a mountain. He then kicked off a pair of shiny black dress shoes, the size they had to be astounded Bella.
Fighting in dress slacks, as if he didn't intend to be at this long. And he probably didn't. He took his stance, one leg up, knee held high, kick boxing, muay thai kick boxing to be specific. She'd expected some sort of grappling stance, joint locking, something, not an agile style like this. Her own street style seemed suddenly so juvenile compared to this.
And with one word, the fight began, Bella took off at full speed, her only chance to come and sting at this wall of a man's kidneys to slow it down. She weaved to one side, foot twisting to lashing out with a sharp right hook into the kidney. Her fist connected with nothing, rewarded with a force not unlike being struck by a car to her back. The blow sent her reeling, stumbling, landing on her stomach, face scraping against the concrete. Dazed, she whirled around to see the thing leap through the air and one seemingly inhumanly long leg outstretched, the top of the black socked foot hooking around her face, literally knocking the spit out of her mouth as she was beginning to rise.
Bella's vision began to blur before her head even hit the ground. It was over this quickly, two blows. This was Welkin, Bella wondered how anything human could even begin to consider taking down this monster. But the thought was cut short as her vision blacked out.
Her eyes fluttered open as the beast of a man was reaching down with one giant hand, grasping at her own to pull her up. She looking to the right hazily before blacking out again.
She awoke on a bench in the subway tunnels. Her head ached terribly, breathing hurt, stung in fact. Probably a dislocated shoulder. A suited man sat next to her she noticed as she began to rise. It was the guy before that had taken Welkin's shirt and jacket. Largo.
"Couldn't just leave you here, ya know. Don't worry I didn't do anything stupid. Welkin wanted to make sure you didn't get mugged or something. Told me to make sure you got up alright on your own, and if not to escort you to a hospital.
But hey, looks like you're up now. Probably a bit sore, but them's just the brakes when it comes down to fighting big Welky. I know personally, trust me. S'okay though, most people don't try to get back up after the first blow, so hey, you did better than most. You did your best, pretty tough chick. We could use someone like you. I think you'd like it too."
The man continued to talk, quickly, never letting Bella respond, even though she probably couldn't right now anyway.
"You'll be alright to get home on your own I take it? You look like you've been through some shit before. But hey, if you need help..."
He trailed off for a moment to look at her.
She slowly shook her head, she felt like absolute hell, but she'd make it home, wasn't even too far from here.
"Cool. Hey, welcome to the club. I'm gonna give you our card, just call us to get details on how this works, no rush though, you've probably gotta recuperate, understandably."
Bella stared at Largo for a second as he stood up, fishing for a card from his suit jacket. He smiled thinly as he handed it to her, nodded and walked casually away and out of sight.
He head was pounding, she ached everywhere...but she'd been through much worse. Was this the way to do things? Start up in a high class street gang, despite having being given a second chance on life. The lust for violence and street justice flooded into her mind to answer the question swiftly. She pulled herself up wincing, and slowly walked home, eagerly awaiting an epsom salt bath.
Champion and Prime representative of the secretive, yet feared Old Boy Network. Bella had fought her way this far, having tore through some of the Network's lesser members with ease. Beginning to assume the hype behind it to be blown out of proportion. She'd fought gangs before, been part of a few even, but the Old Boy Network wasn't like your average gaggle of street punks. They had codes, rules and above all else a seeking of worthy opponents on the streets that resembled something close to the spirit of a true samurai.
The turn out was impressive for something like this tonight, on a Saturday in an abandoned warehouse. It happened weekly, and every week a few people left with a few less teeth. An amateur fight club of sorts, Bella had picked up the whereabouts from a contact in one of her many night watches. She'd found herself addicted to the thrill of a crowd watching a test of martial prowess between two people. But tonight, tonight something was different. The place was overflowing with jeering, screaming people. Welkin brought this sort of crowd, or so she was told.
Sweat poured over her face, she brushed it away quickly, taking a deep breath. Time seemed to slow down, she could hear her heart beating rapidly. She felt half the size of the monster before her, felt weak, inexperienced and lame compared to it's presence. Her only chance was speed, she had to be faster than this guy, had to be. She was small, agile and quick thinking. She'd stick and move, aim for vitals, try to topple the thing and knock it wear it down slowly until it was fatigued enough to take down. There was no other way.
Bella watched as the beast began to slowly unbutton it's dress shirt, removing it and the suit jacket with one fluid motion and tossing it to the much smaller man beside him. He spoke, his voice rumbling and stern, but not violent. Calling the lesser massed fellow Largo, she couldn't make out much more. The chiseled, rock face of a chest at eye level, looking as solid as a mountain. He then kicked off a pair of shiny black dress shoes, the size they had to be astounded Bella.
Fighting in dress slacks, as if he didn't intend to be at this long. And he probably didn't. He took his stance, one leg up, knee held high, kick boxing, muay thai kick boxing to be specific. She'd expected some sort of grappling stance, joint locking, something, not an agile style like this. Her own street style seemed suddenly so juvenile compared to this.
And with one word, the fight began, Bella took off at full speed, her only chance to come and sting at this wall of a man's kidneys to slow it down. She weaved to one side, foot twisting to lashing out with a sharp right hook into the kidney. Her fist connected with nothing, rewarded with a force not unlike being struck by a car to her back. The blow sent her reeling, stumbling, landing on her stomach, face scraping against the concrete. Dazed, she whirled around to see the thing leap through the air and one seemingly inhumanly long leg outstretched, the top of the black socked foot hooking around her face, literally knocking the spit out of her mouth as she was beginning to rise.
Bella's vision began to blur before her head even hit the ground. It was over this quickly, two blows. This was Welkin, Bella wondered how anything human could even begin to consider taking down this monster. But the thought was cut short as her vision blacked out.
Her eyes fluttered open as the beast of a man was reaching down with one giant hand, grasping at her own to pull her up. She looking to the right hazily before blacking out again.
She awoke on a bench in the subway tunnels. Her head ached terribly, breathing hurt, stung in fact. Probably a dislocated shoulder. A suited man sat next to her she noticed as she began to rise. It was the guy before that had taken Welkin's shirt and jacket. Largo.
"Couldn't just leave you here, ya know. Don't worry I didn't do anything stupid. Welkin wanted to make sure you didn't get mugged or something. Told me to make sure you got up alright on your own, and if not to escort you to a hospital.
But hey, looks like you're up now. Probably a bit sore, but them's just the brakes when it comes down to fighting big Welky. I know personally, trust me. S'okay though, most people don't try to get back up after the first blow, so hey, you did better than most. You did your best, pretty tough chick. We could use someone like you. I think you'd like it too."
The man continued to talk, quickly, never letting Bella respond, even though she probably couldn't right now anyway.
"You'll be alright to get home on your own I take it? You look like you've been through some shit before. But hey, if you need help..."
He trailed off for a moment to look at her.
She slowly shook her head, she felt like absolute hell, but she'd make it home, wasn't even too far from here.
"Cool. Hey, welcome to the club. I'm gonna give you our card, just call us to get details on how this works, no rush though, you've probably gotta recuperate, understandably."
Bella stared at Largo for a second as he stood up, fishing for a card from his suit jacket. He smiled thinly as he handed it to her, nodded and walked casually away and out of sight.
He head was pounding, she ached everywhere...but she'd been through much worse. Was this the way to do things? Start up in a high class street gang, despite having being given a second chance on life. The lust for violence and street justice flooded into her mind to answer the question swiftly. She pulled herself up wincing, and slowly walked home, eagerly awaiting an epsom salt bath.
