Friday Fight Club

March 24, 2017:

Rogue attends a fight club in the Bronx on her Friday night. Juggernaut shows up to brawl! Venom wants a piece of the action! Darkedge wants Juggernaut's magic! And Nerina is just in the rafters laffing at everyone!

Warehouse in the Bronx


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Its 11:15pm on Friday, March 24th.

There's a warehouse in the Bronx that is used for a local fight club where people come to gather and place bets on fights. There are human / human fights, mutant / mutant fights and sometimes mixed matches. Its a pretty popular hangout for people in their youthful years.

Right now the place is packed, there are two huge combatants in the caged-in area with bright white lights flushed down upon them as they battle. The crowds around the cages are cheering and laughing, its noisey inside the building as there's quite a crowd tonight.

Rogue is one of the people in attendance tonight, she's got her leather trenchcoat on and is hanging out near the back corner, not too far from the exit. She's standing up on a series of metal beams that are stacked together to create makeshift bleachers. She's got a cigarette between her lips and is puffing on it while watching the fight and occassionally looking down at her phone.

This sort of gladiatorial fight pits are not as completely foreign of a situation as ine might think for the elf. the elves of his birth would fight trolls like this often. that there are bright lights ensure than when he materializes from Rogyexs shadow, he does not look i to the fight pit. Nit that it wpuld interest him if he could see in there. not with the fainy scent of something magic here. silent, datkedge clambers up the makeshift bleachers behind rogue, sensing out for the source of that whiff of magic.

Rogue didn't know that some shadow-walking elf had just used her shadow to slip into the building, though she's seen Mutants with similar powers in her life. She was just glancing down at her phone. She DID, however, feel the presence of the elf moving up the metal bleachers and thats when she looked over at him and took a draw from her cigarette while watching him, he sure looked interesting… didn't he?

"You from Asgard, or somethin', Mistah?" She asked him in her thick southern accent which might be the first time he's even heard an Earth accent of that variety.

The audience cheered loudly as one of the beefy protein-infused men inside the ring was knocked out cold. The announcer came over the loudspeaker to rally the crowd and keep the fun going.

Was that…. human speak? Darkedge, silver eyes giving a blink, looked over at Rogue andtiltes his head curiously. some if the words he understood, which is what gave him pause. a brow quirks and Darkedge shifts so rogue is blocking the light from the cage. He wont try to send. Not here. too many others who might hear.

Rogue is near the back standing on some metal bleacher-things and she's smoking a cigarette while glancing at her phone, Darkedge isn't far from her.

When Darkedge didn't respond to her she just smirked. "Friendly fella, ain't ya?" She asked, her green eyes going back to the phone in her left gloved hand.

A fight had just wrapped up and people were placing their bets on the next one that was to start shortly.

Oh. he understood that this time. Darkedge quirks a brow in silent response befire finishing his climb up to just over Riguexs head. He then finds another shadow highhrr up. vabishing back inti riguexs shadow, the silver haired darkelf reappears in that new shadow he found. the fight pit is still tio bright ti look at fir him, si he avoids doing so, instead, scanning the crowds to try ti find where that hint of magic was coming from.

A camouflage pants leg and tall black boot dangles from the rafters of the warehouse. Nestled in an area not too much lighter than where the elf has jumped, a pair of wide blue-blocker sunglasses look down at the crowd and bright ring, coccooned between a warm fur cap and thick coat whose bulging sleeves consume the rest of the young woman wearing it. A grey instrument case is slung over one of her shoulders and so far, she's been content to trace her eyes lazily around the cacophany below while quietly rolling something around between her teeth.

It's a distant, fading, memory of how he knew to be here. Who he had to get through. What that involved. All unimportant considerations. What is important is… he is here. It is time. The methods of old are insufficient for satisfying his needs. So, to stay in shape, he needs to scale up his workouts. Also, like now, his warm ups. Showing restraint, so far, a simple black bodysuit with a few telling accents is what he wears just now.

A little ambiguity between his other, known, face and the unknown name of Venom. There's no doubt, despite the observations silently ignored, as he moves forward. Whoever he is now, whatever he is now, he's here to get a taste of what he really can do.

There were a lot of people here tonight in the audience that surrounded the raised-up fighting cage in the center of the warehouse, one of them was bound to be (or be in possession of) the magical source that Darkedge was hunting.

Nerina wasn't the only one up in the rafters either, some other youthful types were loitering up there too though most seemed to be mutants with abilities that they exploited to get up that high off the ground, they were in little groups up there and keeping to themselves for the most part.

The announcer came over the loudspeaker to say that the second fighter for this match had not shown up, so they were opening invitations to anyone in the audience who'd like to fight against 'Baron von Punch', a huge muscled man with bald head and a body covered in tattoos of fists, and fists doing fisty things, like punching, or… mostly just punching.

Rogue just stood near the back, leaning against the wall, flipping through her phone and texting random hot guys she liked to tease.

Above the lights, Darkedge looked about. there was a familiar face, Nerina. the other youths he glanced at then mostly ignored. if they tried grtting hostile with him, hexd know but itherwise he lefr rhem be. now behind the lights, tge darkelf scans the criwd again, frowning at his inability to locate rhe source od the magic that drew him. the voice in the loudspeakers was just a bit too loud for him to understand easily, so those words were ignored. the elf just mived alomg the rafters, searching and sensing, eyes on the crowd below.

At nearly ten feet tall, Cain Marko looms a head-shoulders-and-chest above even the tallest within the crowd. Even at his most human he has more in common with a wrecking ball than he does a man and his sharp blue-eyed gaze fixate upon the cage with certain disappointment.

The crimson gem draws him towards conflict. Cyttorak is unfulfilled when a fighter fails to arise and thus Marko's soul resonates with certain boredom.

"Alright," his thick gravelly voice is barely audible over the conversations of the crowd. Yet as he moves he towers over them his plodding forward momentum cutting a slow path through those who have gathered, "Alright," he repeats, "I'll punch 'im. Ten thousand dollars on me."

He moves to enter the cage.

Hardly packing a lack of musculature himself, and definitely not dressed to hide it, The blacksuited figure steps further towards the ring. Only to be beaten to punch, as it were, by another. Before was to bore but this development… is interesting. Staying at the fore but not far enough so he can't be seen the blacksuited figure, for now, waits. It'll be winner stays on. So there will be opportunity yet.

That! There! That… giant… He carried magic. Darkedge leapt to a final pool of shadow, frowning when thw behemoth steps too far into thw light for him to track. he may not be abkr to see the magival giant, but now he can track him. Settling into a crouch, eyes ckosing, Darkedge lets his senses folkiw the gem in Marko, seeking to explore the feel of it, memorize the 'scent' of it as it were.

Just about everyone in the audience all looked at Juggernaut when he arrived, the crowd parted to let him to the ring like the Red Seas moving for that Bible guy.

Juggs would find that even just entering the cage would be a challenge since the doorway wasn't made for accomodate him. But, he could squeeze through if he really wanted too (obviously).

The man inside the ring, Baron Von Punch, looked up at the Juggernaut and then scowled. He turned toward the man with the microphone (who looked strange lilike Patton Oswalt). "Yo, I ain't fightin' some dirty mutant, or monster from some other f***king planet." He gruffly said to the announcer. "They're a buncha cheatin' bastards who should be wiped off the face'a existence." He glared daggers up to Cain, who was clearly much larger than him.

The announcer, looked more than a little worried when Juggs arrived inside the cage, and he looked even more worried when Baron Von Punch said he wouldn't fight this guy… "Uh, hah hah, no worries! No worries! I'm sure there's another… person out there in the audience tonight who'd be more than willing to take on this…" He looked Cain up and down. "Impressive, hulk of a man! One night, one fight… Set for life!" He shouted in to the mic!

Rogue glanced up from her cellphone and she saw Juggernaut inside the cage. She actually knew who he was, she'd heard people at Xavier's talk about him and she'd seen stuff about him. "Oh, boy." She quietly whispered.

In an era where apparent weaklings like Superman can control any mass that rests upon the planet it can be difficult to ascertain whether the ten-foot giant is a match for the tattooed man. Prepared to make good upon his wager he digs an oversized fist into his pocket and produces an envelope bursting with green.

Cain Marko enters the ring with an unremarkable dress. He wears jeans, tennis shoes, and a T-Shirt featuring Godzilla peering outward between to skyscrapers with Mt. Fuji at his back.

The red-haired giant towers within the confined of the cage the ropey veins on his arms looking like garden hoses that move fluids between his muscles. To Darkedge they burn a deep crimson the trillions of cells of his body connected to some otherworldly power source.

Wiping his nose with the back of his hand he inhales sharply and then slowly leans in, "Listen," whispers, "Just take the first punch and lay down. I'll split my take with ya'." Straightening then he seems to observe the crowd and curls his massive right-arm into a flex that splits the sleeve of his T-Shirt giving the impression of a bicep that size of a Volkswagon.

The other fellow splits.

"HEY!" Cain roars two steps carrying him to the edge of the cage, "I AINT NO MUTANT!" He protests, "And I'm from /right here/ in the U-S-of-A you /pussy/."

"One hand," Marko calls out, knotting a fist and putting his arm behind is back, "You only gotta deal with my /SUNDAY PUNCH/."

There's a resounding *thump!* lost in the roar of the crowd as a brown bomber jacket pushes its way towards the ring, with the unconscious body of Baron von Punch sprawled out on the floor behind her. Tall by normal human standards but not too much to look at, a clean-cut young woman enters the ring and pulls the gate shut behind her.

Besides the jacket she's wearing a plain set of jeans, some boots, and has her hair back in a tight, work-safe braid. There's a bit of an almond slant to her eyes as she squints against the light to look up… up… up to the face of Cain Marko.

"Bunch a' lilly-livered bow-legged milk-sops," she mumbles around a cigarette wedged in the corner of her mouth. "You look like fun…"

To anyone with magical senses, the young woman's very essence crackles like a healthy flame, even spilling little tendrils on the air escaping her mouth.

There is amagic all over. The scent of woodsmoke from the female, the otherworldly power from the male. The elf lowers further, focused on the two fihhters below him, continually sensing. the crimson of cain's magic is all but a visible thing even with his eyes closed. it makes darkedge uneasy, and son he sets aboit ti burn it into memory for later. very important to the elf is the feel of these magics in combat, which it sounds like might haopen. the elf waits, eyes closed, senses focused on the ring below.

While all of this unfolded, Rogue watched on from the back corner of the building and she slipped her phone back into the side pocket of her brown leather trenchcoat. "This is why Ah come t'these places." She muttered with a grin while using her cheap neon-green Bic lighter to light a new cigarette. She then leaned back and watched, while puffing out a nice cloud of smoke into the air above her.

The crowd roared with the sight of Cain's money and bets were already being placed even without a new fighter to arrive. When the Baron was removed from the ring and this new 'Jaden' entered, the crowd only grew more anxious and riled-up for the fight.

"Looks like we got a real bru-ha-ha on our hands here!" The announcer said as he made his way for the exit of the ring. "You two know the rules, right?" He shouted over to them into the mic. "There are no rules!" And the crowed chereed as the announcer fled the ring and they slammed the cage door shut behind him.

Cain Marko's blue eyes widen a bit at the appearance of the young woman. Something at the core of what he is now is drawn towards the confidence and conflict she exudes. With his left fist still behind his back he steps forward to meet her challenge.

"Yer tellin' me," his thick voice Is loud but conversational as if this were an everyday affair, "I was afraid I was gonna have to go chargin' through Westchester to kill some time!"

He steps backward then and raises a single meaty fist in defense of his face and torso, "Alright girly," he announced, "Don't you know who I am?" He steps forward and the raise fist goes outward in a slow warm-up jab at her mid-section.

A mirthy, toothed smile spreads across Jaden's face as the announcer runs for cover, flashing a pair of canines that have been filed down to shark-like points. The end of her cigarette glows before two long jets of smoke stream out her nostrils. She chuckles quietly and takes a moment to shake out her left hand where there's already a fleck of blood on her knuckles.

"Can't say I've heard of ya'," she admits in the same soft tone as she takes the cigarette from her mouth, crushes it in hand, then shoves it into her coat pocket. "Sure ya' only want a' use one tree trunk?"

Rocking back onto her rear leg and rounding into a C-shaped hunch, the woman's arms come up as her fists clench in a classic boxer's guard.

Well, so much for the first, and second chances. Maybe third time's the charm. Either that or he needs a new PR guy. Or get one to begin with. Meantime he's better doing what he's better at. Working the angles. What seems like a lifetime ago, another face, another place and time, he's covered the aftermath of one of those rampages. More than a man, certainly, but still there's got to be something that a first hand account can tell him that'd be useful. Or it's as the story so far says. Regardless, for now, all the blacksuited man can do is watch and wait.

The audience is quite entertained by this match-up it would seem, based upon the loud cheering / taunting and mayhem that surrounds the cage.

Empty cups, bottles, food wrappers are being tossed at the chain-link fence but most of it doesn't go through the fence (only some of the broken glass here and there). Occassionally fights break out in the crowd itself, but there are 'some' security here that are employed to remove the overly violent spectators.

A couple of the guys in the crowd standing next to Venom start shoving his shoulders. "Yo, man… You suited up to fight?" One of them asks, his breath reeking of alcohol. "You need to get in there, bro. You look fierce! Make me some money, man!" They both start laughing uncontrollably, clearly they're on something.

Marko's heavy fist impacts solidly upon the woman's defenses.

Perhaps her defense is solid or perhaps it was merely a probing gesture. His knuckles skirt across her forearms and then fall away leaving his defenses open.

"Aww, come on girly. I'm the Juggernaut!" He announces, "Let's make some money."

There's a thump but not much movement from the mountain's much smaller opponent - her body's angled right to direct the force down out her boots. Her guard breaks as she takes back a hand to cover her mouth and laugh a bit, finding something about being locked in a cage with ten feet of Juggernaut somehow funny.

"I think I like you," she muses before whipping out a punch of her own at Marko's arm. It's firm, with a little hip-twist in it, but not meant to penetrate. She pauses for a moment after it lands, then takes a half-step back and resumes her guard.

"Sure, let's call that tappin' gloves."

"This was chosen to be less conspicuous. However. If you prefer this…" The suit ripples and grows. The plain faceless mask replaced with a gaping maw of teeth and tongue. Hands, now clawed, clamp down on those offending his presense. They squeeze. Continuing to ramp up the pressure as they inevitably close the monstrous visage turns with a flick, and almost a lick, to each in turn. Venom says, "Perhaps this meets your needs better? That is not of concern. Nor are your pitiful mewlings. Leave me. Don't. It no longer matters." He notes with disdain at the pressure peaks then tendrils, each as big and strong as his own considerable arms, plough towards the core of the two men at the moment of merciful release.

Good thing Rogue was too far away from the 'stage' to hear Cain remark about Westchester over the sound sof the audience, or there might be another combatant one step closer to jumping into the cage match. But for now, the Southern Belle was just leaned back in the corner, watching and smoking a cigarette with one foot up on the wall behind her and her knee bent out in front of her.

The audience was enjoying the show thoroughly so far and the fence around the fight arena was being pelted with even more garbage tossed by the rowdy throngs of people looking for blood!

The two men who were near to Venom watched his change and heard his words, at first they looked terrified but then they both looked at each other and started to bust-up in laughter. "Yoooo! Dude! Thats some -predator- shit right there!" One of them shouted, while going back to laughing with his face all scrunched up. The other one, meanwhile, was pumping his fist in the air at the announcer. "Yo, NIck! Get this mother f***er in the fight!" But it was too loud for the announcer to hear the words.


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