[IC] World Warriors: The Nomadic Fist (Quirky Fighting Game Influenced Roleplay)

[Punished GN]

[Punished GN]

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"Today marks the day of a new age of warriors. They have all gone on a massive journey from their own for their own reasons. To prove themselves as the best warriors, to finding truth. Regardless of the reason, they have gathered in one place. The place that will be the most important of all as it marks the modern age of Nomads as they form alliances over their common interests... along with rivalries. It is important that they gather strength, as a new threat lurks in the shadows, and is praying on their talents."

"Only the strong shall survive it."

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It was the dead of night... the night before the great tournament where all participants were going to make history. Most of them were just arriving, but many have already arrived much, much, ahead of time. Either putting in their participation online, or just arriving. What mattered was the fact that the tournament was still actively accepting participants. It was stated to be the biggest event for fighters everywhere!

Though, through the streets of Rio De Janeiro, came two hooded figures. The streets were alive with the Brazilian nightlife, but the two hooded figures clashed against the sea of clubbers. One wore a yellow hoodie, with his hands in his pockets (but, his body gave off a strange blue light), and the other dressed a bit more strangely... she wore a full on black cloak, and the only glimpse at her face was the similar electronic light she emitted from underneath her hood. The two leisurely marched through the streets of Rio, without a care in the world.

However, they weren't the only people roaming the streets of Rio. The two passed by a shady nightclub... and almost immediately a group of men and women came out of it and surrounded the pair. They were armed with various weapons, and confidence in their abilities.

"... Can I help you?" The man in the hood said, rather bored.

"In fact we can," A burly man with a bat said as he leaned in, and flipped over the man's hood. Revealing blond hair, and blue eyes, and massive headphones over his head. He was Justin Elisha Haggar... a criminal to one man, but a kid that got caught up in circumstance to another. "A little friend of ours told us you'd be participating in the tournament tomorrow...."

Justin shook his head as he tried to go on past him. "We're just passing through."

The man put his hand on his chest and felt Justin's power core, and grinned, "Don't give me that shit. Every time a tournament happens, freaks like yourself come out of the shitworks to participate." The man pushed him back, and Justin stumbled for a moment, before he caught himself. His hands shined a brighter light as his arms transformed, but his companion stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"But this year is going to be different," The man said as he grinned ear to ear. "This year, our champion is going to win! So, I have something to say to you Wanderers, or whatever you guys call yourselves..."

He leaned in closely, and spat out:

"... Get the hell out of my city." Followed by laughter from he and his goons.

Justin narrowed his eyes.

"You get the hell out of my face," Justin hissed in response, throwing his fists up in a Muay Thai stance. "You have a lot of nerve coming up to my face and telling me to leave, so let me ask you this..."

The man looked at Justin all amused, tapping the baseball bat against his shoulder.

"... What are you going to do to make me?"

The man laughed as he grabbed onto the bat with both hands, "Let me show you!" He swung the bat sideways towards Justin's face. But, he got the surprise of his life when Justin grabbed the bat, and crushed it in his grasp. He loudly yelled as Justin swung forward with his other hand, palms out, and hit the man in the chest with a palm strike.

"... Sonic Beat." Justin said as he shot a bright-blue blast of ki-infused sound that sent the man sprawling backwards and he hit the wall. Justin reverted to his Muay Thai stance with both hands up, and his feet shoulder length apart.

"Oh, wise guy, huh?" One of the men shouted as he ran forward throwing a punch, only for Justin to sidestep it and deliver a kick to the man's midsection that sent him sprawling to the ground, and two quick punches to the man's associates that knocked him out.

After this, Justin's companion decided to bow out in her own special way. From underneath the cloak came out a bright-blue jet of fire as she shot upwards into the sky. In the process, she lost the cloak around her... and revealed her tall, curvaceous figure, and the black dress with the mink coat over it. Most notably of all her wild head of blonde hair. She landed a few feet away from the scene, and smiled.

Throwing up peace signs with both hands.

"... Go get 'em Justin." Seven-Seven said with a wide smile.

Justin nodded as he threw a round-house kick with a blue trail behind it that knocked another foe off balance, in which Justin followed with a powerful uppercut that knocked him on top of a building. Justin noticed how the rest of them amassed with each other, and charged him. To which he responded by sticking his other hand out, and shooting a shockwave of sound that propelled him forward. He threw a punch that created an explosion of sound that shattered windows, and sent the goons flying.

Leaving behind a frightened group of men that hunkered up with each other. Justin shook his head, and dropped his stance, realizing that he won this fight.

"... Wait, hold up, hold up, hold up!" A voice loudly shouted from above, as a puff of white smoke appeared over a street light. When the smoke faded, it revealed a tall African male simply sitting on it. Eating an apple with a cocky look on his face. He had three swords attached to his being, and looked like a Nomad. "Before the whole lotta' ya continue your death."

The man drew a sword, and pointed it at the group.

"You're with, uh, O Massacre de soldados, right?"

Several of the members of the group nodded.

"Good!" The man hopped down, and continued taking bites out of the apple, approaching them casually. "Since I see you scrubs are pickin' fights with these kind Nomads because your bitch-ass boss can't win fight for the life of him, I'll make this quick."

He waved the sword around sideways... Justin took a step back towards Seven-Seven as he noticed the man's casualness about the whole situation.

"Where is Cláudio Carmo? Your little champion?" Jaden asked. "There's a huuuuge price on his head, baby, and you know I won't be passin' that one up anytime soon!" He laughed as he put his sword back, but he kept his hand on the sword, and he grabbed onto his other blade.

"There's a price on your head, too!" One of them shouted. "... Jaden Raldo!"

"Ah, shit, you just had to go ruin the surprise!" Jaden said as he walked up, but one of the women drew a gun out of sheer panic, and blindly fired at him. However, Jaden's hands were quick as lightning as they deflected each of the bullets with his blades. They moved with such speed that it was impossible to see what he was doing. All that was seen was bullets and blades flying around... the woman's clip went empty, and Jaden dramatically put his swords away.

"... Come ooooooooon, I ain't got time to waste dealing with small fry!" Jaden said, pointing at one of the goons. "What? Your bounty's like five hundred dollars?"

He laughed.

"That ain't enough to feed my dog," Jaden said. "So are you gonna cough up, or what?"

"Screw you!" The man shouted as he blindly rushed Jaden, but he hopped up into the air, rolling. When he hopped over the man, Jaden grabbed the man by the shoulders and used his momentum to flip the man over. Throwing him square into another man, and taking them both out. He was quick on his feet, he kicked another man in the gut, while whipping around and wildly taking a woman out with a series of strikes.

The last man was taking out with a ki-infused horizontal slash of Jaden's hands that knocked him over. Justin's eyes widened when he took him out.

"Mmm, mmm, mm..." Jaden shook his head. "Could'a saved ya' the embarrassment if you just told me where Cláudio was."

Jaden kicked over one of the goons, and looked at him.

"... But, ya' had to be a dumb bitch, and get served... man, the nerve of some people." He shook his head as he faced Justin and Seven-Seven. "Your welcome, for taking out the goons, ya' know. I figured you could have used the help."

"Thanks." Justin sarcastically said.

"I bet you're here for the tournament..." Jaden could barely hold back his laughter. "But, I hope ya'll are prepared for one helluva loss."

Jaden pointed at himself.

"Because I'm taking back that prize money."

"Yeah, suuuuuuuure." Justin rolled his eyes.

"This man has high-ki." Seven-Seven robotically noted. "And it's likely that he has some form of ki-sensing."

"Hmmm..." Justin wondered if there would be more like Jaden... this isn't some underground fighting tournament, or some shitty club fight. This was the real deal, and it'd attract all sorts of people. "Duly noted." Seven-Seven smiled widely.

"Now, if you excuse me..." Jaden said... before a load of cars rolled up, and their occupants came rushing up. Armed with whatever weapons they could put together. They formed a giant horde of goons that surrounded the three.

"Oooooh, I think you let one of them crawl off and call for help." Jaden said as he grabbed one of his swords slowly.

"Who the hell are these guys?" Justin said as he hopped into stance.

"The Massacre Soldiers... one of the biggest and toughest gangs in all of Brazil! I've been chasing 'em down since I got here!" Jaden said.

"They're not that tough." Justin said.

"That's because you fought the cocky scrubs who think the name means something." Jaden fully drew his sword. "Now, we about to fight the real deal - Oh! Maybe Cláudio's bitch ass will come out of hiding!"

"Let's get this over with..." Justin groaned.

"... May I be of assistance?" Seven-Seven said as her left arm transformed into a rocket launcher.

"Yeah, might as well."

The three rushed into battle against the giant horde that took up the entire street... but, as the battle went on, a man in black armor ominously watched from a distance....

[Savo]

=Rio De Janeiro, 1:13 A.M.=

"... also, be sure to avoid physical activity for at least four days to at least a week! And be sure to adhere to the prescription!" The man with piercings on his face nodded back at the doctor as they both exchanged friendly waves to each other. Standing by the doorway, Jonas kept up an affable smile as the trio of people eventually took a right out of the alleyway, vanishing from sight. His smile quickly faded as did his posture, dropping back onto the decaying brick wall.

Sputtering a few tired curses, the Doc's arm plunged directly onto his face, massaging it as he let out a small sigh as he stared at the check written to him. "Looks like I'll be more than good for a couple of days," he mumbled, taking one last glance at the dank alleyway. Stereotypical hive of all scum, save for a few poor, tortured souls... riveting.

Leaving the pungent setting of the despondent row, Jonas went back into the apartment, being greeted by a toothless grin of a much older looking man in his seventies. He was short in stature and had beady eyes you would find on a cheap, hand sewn doll. The shirt was striped up and down with a white and blue design, his gut protruding from the shirt, almost exposing midriff.

"We-eh-hell!" Semwon up late," letting out a chuckle as he weakly gripped a clear bottle filled about half of the way, label reading Cachaça. Jonas just returned with a dead glare and an unamused frown as he tipped his head back and forth one time. Now staring at the floor, he slouched over as he proceeded forwards and up a few steps before he felt someone tugging on his coat.

Steadily rolling his head to the side, he came into contact with the nose of the bottle shoved right at his nose. He blinked for a few moments before staring at the smaller man who uttered a singular "here."

"Sure ya don't wanna finish that bud'?" He put his finger on the neck and pushed it back and forth, making it bob like a buoy. He shook his head and smiled. "Relax."

Jonas nodded his head and uttered a "thank you" to the man as he gently procured the nearly finished bottle. Ascending up the stairs, he stopped for a moment once on top of the platform and turned his head back. Nothing, save for a muted closure of a door. Bringing the bottle up to his face, he stared at the contents within before continuing his ascent.

"Maybe I should try an' make cocktails tomorrow."

---

=Rio De Janeiro, 1:46 A.M.=

Leaning back in a wooden chair, Jonas waved back and forth as he stared at a couple of documents in the dimly lit room. Suddenly tilting back a little too far, it appeared that the chair was about to capsize and the captain was going out with it...

... or not. Jonas swiftly launched himself up from the now descending seat, continuing to look at the documents as it landed with a half-hearted clunk. Pursing his lips, he let out a silent breath of air as he shook his head, frowning as he set them next to the bottle, the inside being about half-way to the bottom. Staring at the glassware by his desk, he took one last swig, eliminating the minuscule amounts of spirit left.

"Ah hell, I've been up for too long reminiscing about this all," he spoke to no one in particular as he gingerly placed the glass onto the table. Grasping the chair and spinning it back onto its four feet, he proceeded to grab said papers and set them into his satchel.

"The old man's nice, but I wonder if I could of gotten a better view if I took one of the other places..." Looking up at the ceiling, he chuckled, shaking his head and swatting away an imaginary fly. "Nice, but conspicuous..."

Stretching for a few seconds, he turned on the moldy tv in his room; couldn't be more thankful the prior renter of this place left without taking the rest of his stuff. May not be cozy, but some of the vanities were nice. Flipping between channels that were all in Brazilian language, he settled on a random one which he was certain a repeat of a show.

Throwing his coat haphazardly onto the chair, he heard the clamoring of knives making contact with each other as he lie on the bed.

Before Jonas could nod off, there was a rough banging on the door, which he stared at blankly. Rolling onto his side, the knocking became more furious. Groaning, he put his arms across his eyes. "Yeah yeah, hold on, hold on, give me a sec'." Rolling off onto the floor with a thunk, he took in a deep breath before unhurriedly getting to his feet. Cracking his neck, he snagged his coat and grabbed the bottle.

"If you're lookin' for a check-up, sorry, but I'm done for th' night." Shuffling to the floor, he slowly opened it up... only for it to be forced open by a bunch of hooligans eying the doctor, their gazes shifting throughout the room.

Backing up, the men entered the room with a certain swagger, brandishing their weapons of choice. One decided to toy with the decaying wall, cutting off a small piece with their machete. The other posed like they were gods gift to baseball, tapping the floor with their bat like a base before swinging at the wall... and stopping right before impact. The final one at the center was pointing his freshly bloodied pipe at Jonas face, giving him a cliche smirk that made his eyes roll. There was one factor that made them unified - their tattoos.

"Sorry 'Doc,' but we ain't here for a check-up, but we are searchin' for a cure and we are certain you have it."

Clenching the neck of his Cachaça bottle, one of the men grinned cockily at Jonas.

"Ya sure it's 'im? He don look like much; bet a little poke," the he closed one of his eyes and thrusted his baseball bat back and forth like a billiard, "an' he'll be out!"

"Oy, oy, we ain't suppos'd to damage tha' merchandise!"

Jonas glowered at the trio as he put one foot behind him. "Merchandise? I'm sorry, but you may have the wr-"

"Don't try an' weasel yer way out of this, we know yoor Joseph Langer!"

"Uh, dude," the man with the machete piped up. "It's Jonas Langer." Looking back at his comrade, the man with the pipe shrugged and looked back at the doctor who seemed unhinged and unbalanced like a wild animal.

"Ey', look, he's scared! Bet he's gonna try an' pull some shit, so letsgetumnownownow!" The man with the baseball bat swiftly rushed forward, their baseball bat flying to the side as Jonas quickly ducked underneath and retaliated with a Cachaça uppercut. Glass shattered around the room, along with splashes of the drink that drenched the victims body, but the pants of everyone else in the vicinity.

The man stumbled before falling straight on his back, not budging at all.

"Damn, what a waste o-"

The middle man let out a battle cry as his other conscious partner belched a swathe of jeers at Jonas, both rushing forward to get a hit. "Fuck it, knock th' fuckboy out an-"

Pivoting around the mans strike downwards, he quickly shoved the bottle into the back of his neck. There were screeches of pain as crimson glinted on the bottle. Jonas anticipated the machete slash and quickly parried with a drawn knife from his cuffs, much to the befuddlement of the man.

Jonas heard the man behind him roar and predicted how and where he might swing. Instead of fighting against the man, he eased up, causing him to "overpower" Jonas... and promptly get their head smashed in.

As the goon dropped the machete, Jonas made quick work of his surroundings and procured the falling blade. Before the final gang member could recover, Jonas made sure to pin his arm to the wall with a ki powered stab to his wrist. The man was in a state of shock, and tugged at the bloody hand... before having a leaky feeling... in his abdomen. Crumbling to the ground, Jonas let out a huff, making sure no parts of his coat were bloodied.

"... of a good spirit; was gonna make a cocktail out of it..." Clicking his tongue and shaking his head, he began digging into the pockets of the men he fought against and garnered his payment. Shoving the cash into his wallet, he looked about the two bodies that were most likely dead and the unconscious man.

"Jesus, how the hell am I gonna explain this?"

"Brotha', you won't hafta'."

Twirling around and pointing his knife at whoever just spoke, he grimaced as a new set of goons with similar tattoos and uniform appeared at his doorway. The man in the middle stuck up a hand and kept his cool.

"Now hold on, I know watcha' might be thinkin'... but unlike these fools whose asses you turnt' ta molasses, I'll give ya a chance t' come with us, no conflict at all." Jonas stared at his supposedly affable smile, continuing to stay defensive as he pushed his foot back once again.

"Look... we have your pasty ass out numba'd... look outside the escape ladda' brotha'."

Cautiously backing up towards the window, Jonas kept his eye on the five people occupying the doorway and yanked the covers open... only to see the route being blocked by two other goons, who just stared at him, stared at the men and women occupying his doorway before going back to chatting.

"Ah dang..." Jonas slowly closed the windows covers as their supposed leader kept jabbering on about how it was no use to escape. "I'm not going to get any sleep with these imbeciles around..."

"... and that is why ih'm givin' you the offa' of packin' your stuff up and comin' with us, quietly. So, what will it be brotha'? You-"

"Hopefully the tournament just goes on for a couple of hours, then I can get some shut eye." Jonas looked down at the ground, seemingly space out for a moment as he continued to hear the alpha wolf out.

"... an' we give ya enough time to grab all your stuff! Which will it be?"

Looking up to meet the eyes of the man with a shit eating grin. Letting out a defeated sigh, he threw his knife to the table. "Fine; give me a few minutes to pack up in private."

Nudging one of his friends, the middle man began bragging about how he knew diplomacy would win out before stationing three men outside of the door while he and the other disappeared down stairs. Slowly closing the door, one of them gave one last grunt to Jonas.

"We'll b'waitin'."

---

=Rio De Janeiro, 2:02 A.M.=

"How long until this prick gets outta this shithouse? This stuff is makin' me uneasy."

The woman shrugged, before staring at the smudged graffiti on the wall below them.

"I dunno, but they'll contact ya through the talkie... what, y'fraid of heights?" She smirked and began nudging her ally, who pushed the elbow aside. "Screw you," he chuckled back.

"How about l-"

Before she could finish, the walkie talkie bursted with static, a voice emanating from the device.

"Oy, you can stop guardin' the emergency ex't, the target is bein' escorted outta the building right now! Y'kin come down now." There was some remaining static before it completely cut out. The man gave a huff, before looking at the darkened room.

"Thank god... now let's get..." He was the first to scramble down the ladder quickly as his female compatriot stifled a giggle as she followed after the shifting man who was making strides to get down the unstable equipment. At the bottom, the man in white was absorbed into the crowd of people, taking looks around as he remained silent. There was chattering amongst the large crowd that was packed into the alleyway.

The horde piled onto the streets, their myriads of cars in full view. The whole slew of them prodded the doctor with insults and slurs, but he wouldn't even budge a centimeter. He just blindly went where they ordered him to go. After a few minutes, they came to a halt.

Not bothering to look around, the doctor stood completely still as the gang members the same man got on top of the car and pointed at him. "Now!"

In an instant, the men and women surrounding him went into a frenzy, bashing parts of his body and punching it, making sure he would be out like a candle. Even then, he didn't scream, shout, yelp, not even let out a whimper of a sound... the doctor just... took it... until.

"AH FUCK, WHAT WAS THAT FOR ASSHOLE!"

Infighting. Shouting. Confusion. The once unified whole began getting angry at each other and began chastising each other for hitting their gut, punching their face, and a whole slew of angry insults. It was almost impossible to keep a part of the crowd from getting riled up... and from the rooftop of another building, Jonas smiled at the beautiful noise.

"Hehehe, idiots." Clasping his hands together and stretching them upwards, Jonas managed to stifle a yawn before walking slowly to the other uneven rooftops. He began at a leisurely pace before going onto a full blown sprint, hopping, jumping, and climbing. It wasn't going to be long until they checked his room, so he did his best to put as much distance between him and the gang members.

"The O Massacre de soldados, eh," he mumbled to himself as he rolled due to a rough landing, "they seem a little... underwhelming." Jonas shook his head as he peeked behind him, barely seeing the tiny heads move in a formation back into the alleyway.

Utilizing the nearest fire escape, he swiftly descended the slew of steps, each sound making a creak with each passing second.

---

=Rio De Janeiro, 2:09 A.M.=

The lone doctor in a white coat rushed through the streets, still continuing to make sure to avoid his pursuers. He was frankly certain they weren't too amused by the note pinned to the wall by his former occupied room and couldn't help but be a bit amused. Jonas could only imagine how their resting bitch faces looked after they read that piece of paper.

The Note

Next time, give me a challenge; I don't like lowering my standards.

P.S. I charge extra for beatings... since your friends didn't have enough money, I'll just put it on your guys tab."

As Jonas dashed through the streets, brushing by locals and foreigners alike, a few thoughts lingered in his mind... mainly where he would lay low for a bit until the tournament started. He was plenty sure they weren't going to be lusting for money no longer.

[Little Bill]

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"Y'know what gets me 'bout Brazil?"

Billy had been talking to the young man for several minutes through bass-boosted headphones and a thick layer of dreadlocks, and though the young man's only contribution to the conversation had been a few "Yeah"s or "That's Right"s and brief moments of eye contact or nodding, there was no break in Billy's reptillian gaze on the youth. To Billy, this was an ordinary conversation, because to Billy, this was about as close as most people could tolerate him.

"They're like Mexicans, but they don't speak Spanish. They speak that Portuguese, yessir." Billy adjusted his sunglasses to emphasise his phrasing, peeking over the edge of the shades. They fit oddly on his face, squared off over his snout and barely reaching his eyes, though the airport sold them for six American dollars and Billy felt it was a necessary expenditure. Plus, he sort of looked like Horatio Caine in them.

"Rest of South America stuck with Spanish, they said 'Fuck you, I'm Brazil and I'll speak any Got-dang language I please, I'm not no Spanish speakin' cocksucker like all ya'll'," He said, looking decidedly not like Horatio Caine, "And they got all sortsa looks, so you never know if they're actually Brazilian. Some of em's the favela kind you seen in Slumdog Billionaire, some of 'ems blacker than you. Some of 'em look halfway between 'em, like injuns almost, y'know?" He sighed as he finished his rant, taking off the sunglasses which he realized were kind of tight on his face to begin with. He leaned back and tucked his claws in his pockets, nodding slowly to himself. "Yessiree."

After a few moments of uninterrupted silence, he pulled a flask from the pocket of his grimy pants, unscrewed it with a bit of fidgeting, and splashed it towards the back of his mouth -- Billy was lipless, after all, and ate and drank rather like a raptor. He shivered, and cracked his neck for a moment, gesturing to the young man with the flask as if asking him to take away a flask of radioactive waste. "You want some? Smuggled it in my checked luggage. That there's corn mash whiskey. Puts hairs on your sack, I'll tell ya what."

The young man shook his head, not looking up from his phone, though Billy paid no mind.

"I'm good."

"That's what they drank back in the colonial times, little history lesson for ya there. Then I think that pilgrim beer, Sam & Adam or somethin' like that. Never had a taste for it myself, tell you the truth. Tastes like ratdick."

In the distance, two green sedans pulled up to the curb, rusted at the edges with age and covered in a thin layer of grime. As if in unison, six young men exited the cars, talking to one another and looking at the registering nomads.

"Now Coors, they make a good beer. I don't drink that light shit 'cause I'm not no fuckin' candyass, but it's good stuff. Getcha buzzed for less than a tenner, you know what I'm talkin 'bout." He chuckled, nudging Jaden with his elbow, and was met with a half-hearted "You know it" and an audibly forced laugh.

Billy's reptile eyes scanned upwards, dilating slightly as he sniffed the newcomers straying in the distance. "Say, them boys over dere look like they're watchin' us?" He growled, a deep guttural crocodile hiss, and two of the six men took a step back, patting their comrades on the back and hissing into one another's ears. Jaden looked over in the distance for a moment, though he gave only a shrug.

"Maybe they've just never seen a walking crocodile, man."

"Crocodileman." Billy corrected him quietly, still leering at the men getting back into their cars. He sniffed at them once more suspiciously, and turned back to Jaden.

---

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"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD-GOD!" Billy roared, uncharacteristically both making a Warhammer reference and letting a man live. Moments ago, a young gangster had come out of the crowd at Billy, swinging a machete at his neck in the hopes of making himself known in his circle as "The Dragonslayer" or something heroic like that. Instead, Billy grabbed had grabbed the young man by the arms and pulled them forecfully, while putting his foot on the young man's chest and kicking forward. His arms had left their sockets with an almost velcro-like sound, though that was then and this was now. And now, that young armless gangster was running wobbily away from Billy, screaming wildly, all-the-further away from being given a cool nickname. Of course, Billy didn't know that. What he did know was surprisingly little about Brazillian laws concerning murder, which he had unknowingly been breaking for the past few minutes.

"Gotta love those Brazillian street-rules, know what I mean, Dreads?" He shouted once more at the youth cutting up gangsters with precision, who paid him little mind. Ah, Billy thought to himself. The strong, silent friendship. Admirable move, Dreads. He turned away, and grabbed the nearest knife-wielding gangster, pulling his panicking arm into his mouth and severing it, pulling back to chomp away at the screaming man's arm before swallowing it whole. I took three arms today, Billy began thinking again, quietly ignoring the chaotic bloodshed unfolding all around him.Ain't that something? One full spin of the ol' sun, two men are goin' to bed with less arms than they woke up with. That's somethin' to think on, Yessir. An axe-handle hit him square in the back, landing with a hard thunk. That reminds me of that Skynyrd concert in '77. Think I ate seven legs. That's a lot of wheelchairs, come to think. thunk thunk Wonder how many wheels that is. Do wheelchairs ever need new wheels? Reckon they do same as a car. THUNK
Billy turned to meet the eyes of the man wailing away at him with the stick, growling menacingly.

His assailant dropped his axe-handle in horror, staring at Billy's reptillian eyes, almost completely immobilized. There was a flash of green movement, and both he and Billy were on the floor. Then, a sharp crunch at the man's left shoulderblade and a wail of agony.

Four arms. Now yer just bein' mean, Billy. Heh.

[The book of bad juju]

Nobody in the history of ever has once called Rio a sleepy town. The city sits on the coast like a hundredweight, distorting the local landscape around it for hundreds of miles in every direction. Every day, thousands of trucks laden with eggs, bacon, milk, coffee, beans, pork, flour, leather, cotton, wools, paints, woods, cans, tins, metals and stone slabs pour in through the city, to be chewed up and swallowed down whole by 6.33 millions of people each and every single day. And in return, the city sends out music, art, culture, and most importantly of all, people. Not all of them can live the happy, crime-free lives of a first world society, and every society has it's bottom rung, those for whom life dealt the mother of all bad hands. Two of those sorts of people are coming down the road now. Try to imagine their lives now. Whatever's going through your head, it's worse.

The eldest took a moment to sniff the air, idly scratching his bare ribs. Something around here smelled different then normal. He made a gesture to his younger companion, and pulled a tiny metal object out of the waistband of his saggy trousers- A Taurus revolver, more rust and twisted metal then anything resembling a firearm. With it, they were kings of the Favela. And like any king, it was their solemn vow to repel any invaders who crossed their paths or tried to ransack and pillage their streets. The two of them moved quickly, scoping out the area, converging like rats on a fresh slice of fruit, and combing the area. They barely made a sound as they passed by ramshackle houses and lean-to sheds filled with the quiet murmurs and snores. Finally, they both converged at the mouth of an alleyway.

The eldest made a motion on the mouth of the cave, indicating to his companion to go forth. He did, his bare feet tipping and toeing their way around trash. Finally, he saw his objective. Footprints, and fresh ones. Not foot shaped, but big boot-heeled things he could make out even in the terrible light. They led to the very end of the alley, and disappeared where that bundle of clothes was nestled next to the trash bags. A bundle of clothes that hadn't been there this morning. The youngest one went out, pulling out a screwdriver and waving it about in the darkness in front of him. He'd stab it. And he'd stab it good, making sure that nobody was trying to smuggle no substances or glass into their shantytown. He moved in close, raising his arm to strike...

---

The next thing that the youngest street rat knew, he was face down in the dirt. Somebody's boot was pressing into his face, and somewhere up beyond where he could see, dazzling lights were filling the night sky. He felt the bangs before he heard them. The echoed around his head, along with the crack and zing of bullets being fired and cloth being teared. Then a lounder, deeper bang. Then everything was silenced. He barely had the strength to get up as the boot under his face. He didn't need to, as the boot was replaced with somebody's hairy arm across his throat. At least that brought his attacker's face nearer to his own, although in retrospect he wished he hadn't. His breath stunk of boiled holly as it ran through yellowing teeth.

"Bom Dia" He said. There are many things to be said about the beautiful portuguese language, or the wonders of the Brazillain dialect, but their adaptability for foreign use wasn't one of them. The stranger sounded like a conquistador's pet frog had lept into his throat. "So, Mano Menino, what's the big idea of attempting to assassinate me all of a sudden, eh?" If he was waiting for an answer, he wasn't getting one. His thick hairy arm was restricting his windpipe, and he could only gasp. For a moment, he thought about trying one gasp for yes and two for no, but he restrained himself.

The Stranger picked him up and threw him, bodily. He landed on something soft and sticky, which wasn't as nice as he was expecting. He raised a finger up to his eyes, confirming his suspicion. Blood. He'd landed on somebody who was bleeding, and from the ragged breath, he could guess who. He turned, more to confirm his fear then anything else. The elder of the two had curled himself up into a ball, trying to seal a nasty gash near his head. The youngest breathed out, smiling despite himself. Gosh, he'd been all worried that he'd been shot or something, but he'd banged his head while trying to dodge the stranger's own shots.

The stranger was walking away now, moving out of the allyway and down the main street. The younger streetrat looked around, at his elder companion, his head in his hands, the terrible gun on the floor not too far away, picked it up, turned, pointed, clicked-

The bullet slammed into the dust beside his feet. He pulled the trigger a few more times, but it was too late, the thing was empty. And the stranger, who by all the laws of physics should have been curled up in a ball with an ounce of lead in his stomach was still standing. He hadn't quite seen what he'd done, between the darkness in the night and the one under his poncho. He'd sort of turned as the projectile had been moving and... twisted in the air for a moment. Then he bolted, sprinting like an olympian off the starting blocks. They'd never meet again. The two hood rats would later both die in a turf war trying to pretend their shitty pistol was loaded, and somebody called their bluffs. So it goes.

Joaoquim ran through the city streets, trying to put as much distance between him and the Favelas as possibly. He had no plans to die in Rio of all places. He hated cities, and this one in particular creeped him out. Nobody spoke right. They all sounded like they were trying to cough while they spoke, it was unnatural. As he hopped, skipped, and jumped through the suburbs, he headed for the lights. Lights, hope, civilisation. He could totally make a break for it there. Why did every single street have to be so rocky, too? Haven't these people heard of asphalt and tarmac?

He took a corner, grabbing onto a lamp post for support and tighter cornering, and slowed down. Apparantly, there was a disturbance in the road. Somewhere behind the crowd, there seemed to be a mighty big kerfuffle going on. Something the police would probably come down on like a ton of bricks, not to mention any more gangland violence. Best to stay out of this one entirely, Joaoquim thought. It's not like he was dressed distinctly, what with his poncho and cuban heels and all. No way they'd be able to pick him out of a lineup or anything. However, from the sounds everyone was making over the standard noises of flesh hitting flesh, there was something a little more interesting going on. Maybe this could be an interesting piece of street theater.

He climbed the lampost in a few quick movements, using a handy piece of rope as leverage, before vaulting off it at the very top and grabbing onto the ledge of a relatively short house and somersaulting onto it's roof. He lay low, dropping his form close to the ground so nobody could see him, and by dragging his belly over the floor, he managed to find a good enough perch so he could see without being seen. He was right, there was some amazing bunch of characters somewhere in the middle of all the chaos. Excellent fighters. Downright balletic, although he personally doubted any ballet could afford so much red ketchup.

[redbaron1234]

Margot stood in her hotel room, clipping on the last bits of her costume. When she checked in, she was hoping for a quiet night before the long day of tournament registration, but it seemed there were others who didn't want to give her a restful night. Almost as soon as she had finished dinner, her news feed had lit up with reports of large groups of a local gang, O Massacre de soldados, causing trouble throughout the city. Already several hospitals and clinics had been flooded with casualties, most of whom were ki users. It didn't take her long to realize that it was only a matter of time before they came after her.

As she donned her mask, she heard several people walking up to her door. A few moments later, someone rapped on the door. "Room Service," said a strained voice, followed by some chuckling and shushing. She looked back to the tray covered in the remains of her dinner. Margot peered through the peephole, only to see a handful of men standing in front of the door. They looked like something out of a movie, wearing sunglasses and tattooed to all heck. Each was armed with some sort of melee weapon. With them, however, was a very nervous bellhop, very clearly being coerced into helping the rest.

"Je ne suis pas né de la dernière pluie," she muttered. "I'm sorry, I didn't order room service."

"It's compliments of the house," replied the same man.

Margot picked up her blades and headed towards the balcony. "Very well, just give me a minute." She opened the sliding door. Looking down over the railing she saw another group of men standing milling about in front of the hotel, next to some rather haphazardly parked cars. Her mask zoomed in and highlighted several weapons on these men. "Damn, looks like they really want me dealt with." Already forming a battle plan, she hung herself off the balcony edge, and shimmied a few doors down. She entered another room, startling a young couple in a state of undress. "Sorry, sorry." She quickly made her way over to the door. "Oh, by the way, a fight is about to go down. Lock your door, and call the police. Understand?" The couple nodded. "Good, now, I hope the rest of your vacation is less stressful than mine."

She stepped out into the hotel's atrium, overlooking the lobby. A few seconds later the door was dead-bolted behind her. There was a walkway goring around the building on every level. Margot took a quick peek over the railing. Sure enough, she spotted a few more gang members hanging out in the lobby three stories below, throwing their weight around. She looked to her left and to her right. To her left was the staircase and elevators. To the right was the group of men and their unwilling accomplice. They had not noticed her yet, and she could easily leave without being spotted.

"What's taking her so long?" The tallest gang member grabbed the bellhop by the collar, lifting him off the floor. "I thought you said she was in there."

On the other hand, these guys were just begging to have their asses kicked.

She rushed forward, sheathed blades in hand. "En Garde!" The gangster holding the bellhop looked up just in time to take the blunt tip to his throat. He dropped to the ground, coughing as he held his throat. The bellhop took the opportunity to slip by her and run away. Margot backed up a few steps and dropped into a classic fencing pose, daring the rest to come at her.

Someone in the group shouted, "Get her!" They were forced to step around their fallen boss, and to come in ones at a time, perfect conditions for her. The first man to come at her swung wildly, earning himself a broken nose as she sidestepped and drove the pommel of her dagger into his face. The next got jabbed in the gut, followed by a boot to the face. The last one simply tripped and knocked himself out.

Smirking with satisfaction, she made her way downstairs. As she reached the lobby door, she heard the all too familiar sounds of guns being cocked. Her mask's thermal imaging showed her half a dozen pistol wielding figures on the other side of the door, getting into position. Flicking the covers off her blades, she tapped into her ki. The door flew open with a bang, startling the already jumpy gangsters. They were close to the door, well within range. With a flurry of blows, and a few fingers, the guns and the gangsters were on the ground crying in agony.

Outside the hotel, Margot heard several cars peeling away as sirens approached. A few moments later several of Rio's finest came rushing into the lobby. Margot sheathed her weapons and raised her hands into the air. As she expected, she was quickly handcuffed and detained. She sighed. Tonight would not be restful.

---

Otsana stood in the garage elevator, heading to the top of the structure. She was fighting off the twin calls of a belly full of grilled meat and a the buzz of several shots of cachaca. Her gun case hanging off her back, she adjusted her earbuds, softly singing along to the all too appropriate elevator music. "...tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking and when she passes each one she passes goes—" The elevator stopped on the third floor, and a trio of tattooed men walked into the elevator. One was engrossed in their cell phone, showing the other two a photo. Otsana looked closely and saw that it was a picture of her, with a very large bounty under her name. She put her hand on her shotgun, barely getting it out of her holster before a pair of machetes were at her neck. She popped the gun open, showing two empty barrels before closing them back up again. "Chill, chill, it's unloaded."

The cell phone user smirked. "You know, in this part of town you learn to keep your guns loaded, if you carry them. Then again, it makes our job easier, doesn't i—"

BANG

Otsana shot the man in the kneecap, the burst of ki scorching his shorts. The loud sound reverberated through the tiny metal box, and the two others dropped their weapons to cover their ears. Otsana herself was glad for her hearing protection. "Oh, I don't need to load them. Helps save on ammo costs."

"Oh god my ears, that was so fucking loud!"

"What the fuck man!"

The cell phone gangster patted out the fire on his legs and looked up at her indignantly. "Fucking bitch, how dare yo—"

BANG

"Yeah, I don't appreciate your language." For emphasis, she kneed him in the stomach.

"DAVID I CAN FEEL MY HEARING DIEING!"

"I REGRET EVERY DECISION THAT LED UP TO THIS!"

David clutched his stomach and retched a little. "Come on, she's used her two, she can't fire agai—"

BANG

"Did you not see me fire this thing unloaded a few times already? Now, who put the bounty on my head?"

"STOP TEMPTING FATE!"

"I THINK MY EARS ARE BLEEDING!"

David did not take the hint to stop backasassing her. "What? I can't hear you because you blew my ears out!"

Otsama spared the trio's ears further torment and grabbed David's phone, still open to her picture. "Huh, 'O Massacre de soldados'. Have I pissed them off? Couldn't have. I just got here today. Probably should go find a place to lay low until tomorrow." The elevator dinged as it reached the top floor. A gaggle of men and women just starting their night stopped and stared at the scene in the elevator. "Take the stairs," she said as she stepped out of the elevator. She pilled the pin on a flash-bang and tossed it in between the closing doors. There was a muffled cry of panic, followed by a bang and more moaning as Otsana made her way to over to her motorcycle.

[Punished GN]

&

_{@The book of bad juju}

---

---

"Ssssssssshowtime!"

Jaden loudly shouted as slashed through the crowd of mooks. With each swing of his katanas someone was launched into the air, and Jaden grinned widely. This was the best warm up for Claudio! Though, he wondered if the bastard would even show up. Didn't matter, because after all this, Jaden's infamy is gonna go up! And that means more people are going to know about his rap album! It was only a matter of time until he trades the Nomad life for rap tours, and bitches!

He swiped his sword again, and his blades glew brightly with ki. He sent out a wave of ki that launched goons all around. The second he did his attack, he realized something; the Brazilian police are not going to take too kindly to this. Especially when the Massacre Soldiers are involved. The police didn't bother Jaden, but if they find out that he was wanted in Japan, they'd be more than a little pissed off. He at least wanted to destroy scrubs in the tournament before he gets chased by the police!

Throwing a wide-arced kick into the air, Jaden launched his opponents up into the air right where he wanted them. In which he followed by leaping into the air on one leg, and with a few precise slashes of his blades, dispatched them. As he fell from the sky, he looked back at his two robo friends!

Justin, the cyborg, threw a punch that sent someone flying through a store window (Ouch! Jaden felt bad... for the store owner). Before whipping around, and doing a wide arced kick that tore through their ranks. Hopping onto his feet, he threw his fists up and began parrying and punching his way out of there. The other chick... If she could even be called human, was keeping her distance from everyone. Shooting all sorts of crazy shit! One second she had a machine gun, then a rocket launcher, then a weird plasma gun thing!

It didn't take a genius to tell that they were here for the tournament tomorrow. And if Jaden could tell that just by seeing 'em fight, then so can the police! Jaden hated leaving these kind people to get chased by the police, but it's better them than him, of course. The people of Rio (or Brazil, for that matter) probably didn't care for the influx of martial artists and other costumed loons converging on their city once every few years. Especially when they start giant fights like this! So, the police are gonna go for the biggest, meanest people out there.

However, Jaden sensed a powerful presence quickly approach (Seven-Seven also sensed the same), and he grinned in the middle of the fight.

"Oh boy, don't tell me."

The only person there that lacked some kind of ki-sensing was Justin, who was punching and kicking his way through the group. He was a little pissed that he had to fight all these goons... but...

He took a step back, and felt someone behind him. When he turned around, he saw a very tall man with swords, no shirt on. He looked at Justin for a moment, before he quickly swiped Justin off his feet, and punched him in the chest. Justin could only guard the blow with both hands to prevent him from getting to his core. When Justin got to his feet, the onslaught didn't stop as he kicked with a barrage of lightning fast blows that he could barely block, before getting kicked into the distance.

"Justin!" Seven-Seven shouted, putting her hand out as Justin hit a rooftop where a man was perched, and stopped there.

"Go finish them off!" The man said as he observed the battlefield to see his precious gang beaten to a pulp.

"And here I was thinking you wouldn't show up..." Jaden cockily said as he walked up, putting his swords away. "... Claudio!"

Jaden laughed, and Claudio winced. Then Jaden pulled a piece of paper with Claudio's face on it... a bounty poster.

"Because of some shit you pulled, there's at least fifty million real on your head!" Jaden said. "So, mind lettin' me collect this bounty?"

Claudio groaned.

"You have a lot of nerve-"

"Nerve's just the tip of the iceburg, baby!" Jaden loudly said with a cocky smile.

Instead of more back and forth... Claudio just rushed Jaden with both swords. Jaden quickly whipped out both of his swords and clashed with his. The two men were engaged in a battle of strength, clashed sword to sword.

Claudio's men gathered around him, and he shouted.

"You idiots!" Claudio shouted. "Take out the other two, he's mine."

"Awwwww, ain't that cute!" Jaden said.

"I'm going to be taking that sword tonight..."

"Pfft? Murakumo?" Jaden said. "Over my dead body!"

There was a blast of ki coming from both of their blades, and both were launched backwards a bit. They both narrowed their eyes.

"... That can be arranged."

---

_{@DeadBeatWalking}

---

---

In the middle of Billy's brawl with the goons, a glowing arrow whirred past his shoulder, and embedded itself into the ground.

Far above him was a bright, blinding, light, and one that appeared on the rooftop. When the light faded, it revealed Sage Pimm, wearing a black suit, with his butler at his side. He had massive angelic wings attached to his back as he stared down at it.

"How barbic," Sage said, as a spear of light appeared in their right hand. They were less than pleased by Billy's little rampage.

"Indeed, master," Sage's butler stood at his side, drinking tea. "Are you going to slay it?"

Sage grasped the spear with both hands, and narrowed their eyes.

"Yes."

They hopped off the rooftop with the spear ready, wings appeared that slowed their descent to the point where they gracefully hit the ground. The wings disappeared, as Sage faced down the massive beast.

"Monster... you tear man limb from limb," Sage said. "But, today is the day I bring your rampage to an end."

---

_{@redbaron1234}

---

---

Margot was thrown into the back of a police van after being disarmed, and was forced to sit down in a relatively empty vehicle.

It wasn't long before someone else was thrown into the back of the van, handcuffed. It was a somewhat tall Caucasian girl, though, she did look a little Brazilian in the face. Though, she was dressed a little lightly in just a sports bra, some shorts, and some sneakers. It was pretty chilly out, too! The brown haired, brown-eyed, girl, didn't waste too long before she started talking.

"Hey! He threw the first punch!" The girl shouted back at the police who ignored her as they closed the back door. "Come on! The tournament's tomorrow!" She whined as she fell into the chair.

It wasn't long until her eyes fell on the tall woman.

"Heeeeey, did they throw you in here, too?" The girl asked. "Those bastards... but, Brazil does have shitty police so I don't know what I was expecting."

She shrugged as she scooted herself onto a seat.

"So, since we're probably going to be prison buddies, what's your name?" She said. "Mine's Brooke!"

She started laughing.

"Anyways, I can easily break out of these cuffs, I'm just playing along because I don't want a manhunt out for me." She laughed, before she awkwardly looked at the cuffs. "Some asshole tried to pick a fight with me, and lost, and now I'm going to jail for it."

"I swear, if I miss the tournament I'm going to..."

[redbaron1234]

Margot finished the sentence for Brooke with a grin."Still be in a prison with a bunch of people you helped beat up?" She chuckled, doffing her hat. "I'm Margot, by the way. Might know me better as 'Renard Bleu'. I doubt that we will be tied up for long. The police are going to need the cells to deal with all the arrests they'll make tonight, and we are pretty low on the list. Offer us bail, if anything. Breaking out now would just antagonize them, get them on our case until we left."

She scratched her chin as they heard the sounds more and more prisoners being loaded into nearby vans, along of the moans of a few being loaded into ambulances. "Then again, they might want to make an example of us. Throw the book at us. Hopefully you didn't break any actual laws in there?" The serious look she gave the other fighter lasted all of five seconds before she smiled again. "As if. Those guys came up to my room and tried to trick me into letting them in. I'm sure that if the police corrupt enough to make up fake charges against us, they are corrupt enough for us to bribe." Shrugging and holding up her cuffed hands, she added "But for now, it's probably best to wait. Though you seem like a nice enough cellmate if it does come to that."

@Mr Allen J

[Little Bill]

---

---

"Let's dance, ladyman!" Billy roared, bounding towards Sage on all fours. Ignoring the fact that he was an anime character and in a situation clearly mirroring St. Michael slaying The Devil, Billy sprung forward unhesitatingly, prepared to bite a pumpkin-sized hole in Sage's ambiguous chest. Instead, his opponent proved quicker, and Billy's ignorance of Classical Christian allegories proved a flaw in his training. As Billy leapt at Sage, they sidestepped twice and angled their light-spear to pierce Billy through the left shoulder.

Billy blinked, looked at the glowing construct impaling shoulder as if in disbelief, and growled a resounding "Huh."

Billy's neck snapped upwards with a reptilian coldness, his pupils shrinking in primal focus. His right arm sprung upwards, grabbing the hilt of the spear and swinging it -- still embedded fully in his shoulder -- out of Sage's weaker grip and across the jaw of their manservant. With his backswing he swung the spear's pole back at Sage, catching them squarely in the side and allowing Sage to retrieve their weapon at the cost of absorbing the impact. Billy pulled the spear out of his shoulder with an untwisted yank, causing him to give out a great hiss in recoil, taking a few steps from Sage. He gave his chest two pats with a closed fist, as if he meant to cough, and opened his mouth, expelling a geyser of swamp water towards Sage.

[cloudystar]

Meo

Somewhere along the coast of Rio

"Whoa, that's the place Old Man Petae? That's so big! How can they not keep the waters here clean if they can make such fancy buildings? What, they're in economic...ohhhh, that makes a lot more sense. Think I'll just stick to knowing water things. Hm, check out this hotel? Why? Oh...I forgot my money and such back home didn't I? Oops...sorry! Please apologize big time for me when you go back home. And good luck, you have a long journey back to the islands. I'll be sure to send you guys a card as soon as I can! See you sir!"

The old wise man gives an approving nod as Meo starts heading off the side of the boat. The surfboard of the surfer soon in hand, Meo hops off the boat with a wide smile and hope. The waters, sure they weren't the best, but it was still welcoming to ride on them as Meo zooms off to the beach on his surfboard. It seemed quite strange that he was able to ride the waves rather quickly and even approach the beach at that speed, but Meo was just exerting a little energy in order to speed things along. He needed to hurry up and get his things...then somehow find out where the tournament was being held. Meo did just arrive in the city....or really the beach after all, he needed to get information quick!

---

At the Hotel...while everything crazy went down.

Meo was busy trying to talk to the lady at the front when all the violence occurred. He had his package and was starting to put on his signature red swimming sweater that he was happy to receive in the package...when all of a sudden a lady fighter of sorts comes bursting out and got arrested by the waiting cops. He tilted his head confused and heads into the hotel to find out what happened. Laughing so much that he ends up holding his stomach and nearly drops his new backpack on the ground, he decides to ask for directions to the nearest police station to where that lady was held up. He was hoping that he can talk things through there and hopefully get that apparently 'kind' fighting lady out despite breaking the peace of sorts. Meo quickly packs up his things in the package that was sent to him, grabs his signature surfboard, and heads out...forgetting to book a night at the hotel. Constantly asking questions as to where to go, he eventually reaches the police station and tries his best to explain that the lady there that they took in was an okay person.

"Please officer? She really isn't that bad, you can just ask the people there. I'll pay for her release if you don't mind...as long as it isn't too expensive. Trust me, I have a good nose for good people!"

@redbaron1234@Mr Allen J

[Punished GN]

---

_{@DeadBeatWalking}

---

---

This beast was strong, Sage could sense that in their ki.

Definitely was smarter than Sage thought, as well. Perhaps it was foolish coming into this engagement expecting to slay this beast with a few well placed blows, and zero thought. This beast was experienced by the way it fought, but so was Sage. It was the Angelic Protector's duty to protect the world from wild beasts like this.

The reptilian deflected all of Sage's attempts to attack it (injuring itself in the process, but not in the lethal ways Sage was hoping). They knew their best attempt at stopping the Beast was using the spear, and all the range it entails.

The Beast opened its mouth, and against all expectations, a torrent of water came out of the beast's grimy jaws. Sage's spear disappeared as they clapped their hands together. A blinding light surrounded them, acting as a shield, as a tower shield made out of light appeared before them. It stopped most of the mucky water that came out, and the angel was quick to counter attack.

The light faded, and massive angelic wings appeared as Sage hopped off the ground, leaping high up into the air, creating a spear made out of light as they lunged downwards.

"Let the Lord cast judgement on you!"

---

_{@redbaron1234}

---

---

"Wait? Wait?"

Brooke said to her new friend, Margot, as if she was speaking crazy! She kind of was, but that wasn't the point. If what she thought was going to happen, happens, then the two of them are probably going to receive a mountain of charges. Or sold into sex slavery. Or something else crazy that goes on in Brazil. Her father told her that Brazil was far from the safest, or most tolerant, place on the planet. Especially with this tournament goin' on, the last thing Brooke wanted to do was sit on her ass in a jail cell waiting for a hero.

Well, in this story; Brooke's her own hero.

"Nah-ah, no." Brooke said as she raised her cuffs up into the air. "Only thing I'm waiting for is the tournament tomorrow!"

In a swift demonstration of her strength, she pulled the cuffs apart as if they were mere styrofoam. The bits and pieces of what was left crumpled all over the interior of the police van as Brooke hopped up to her feet.

"It feels great being free, Blue - mind if I call you that?" Brooke said as she leaned into Margot's face. "I can break you out myself if you need me to."

Well, it goes against Margot's advice, but Brooke's impatience, and rashness normally trumps all other rational thought that would normally be in her head. Besides, these tournaments are usually cock full of fugitives, probably people that had done worse things than Brooke has done here. Like rob banks, and eat babies - so why does it really matter if Brooke it added to the list?

---

_@cloudystar

---

---

The police officer that detained Margot was a tall, burly man, that appeared to be Spanish in roots. He wore the police uniform of Brazil, and crossed his arms when he looked at Meo. The kid just looked lost. Good thing that he was here to help...

The cop kept a cocky grin on his face as he leaned in, and asked the boy a question.

"Hmph, how much many do you even have on you?" The cop asked. "I'm certain we can work something out... foreigner."

[KremeSupreme]

=Rio De Janeiro, 2:20 AM=

---

---

Calvin yawned as he stretched his arms, walking off the ramshackle boat that ferried him to Rio. Just before he walked away, the scrawny elderly man at the controls rebuked him, "Hey! You think this is a taxi?! You gotta pay!"

"Oh, sorry." Calvin apologized, stopping and pulling his wallet out of his denim jeans. Almost on cue, a group of five roughs leaning against the dock walls nodded towards each other, and started making their way towards Calvin; The largest of the group held a wooden baseball bat with a giant nail going through it. Two of them slipped on brass knuckles, two twirled switchblades, and one of them loaded a clip into a handgun. "Don't you think it's a little warm, with that big jacket?" The biggest one said, standing directly behind Calvin. The other four goons stood on either side of him, as he hefted his bat over the back of his shoulder. Calvin looked at him, Still holding his wallet. "Oh. Not really. I never really get warm, I guess... Can I help you?". The gang snickered. "Well what a coincidence! You can, meu amigo! Can me and my "friends" here bum a few bucks?". Calvin stared at him for a few seconds, then scratched his head. "I dunno, I was just about to pay that guy back there for ferrying me here, and I don't have too much money left...". Suddenly, Calvin noticed they were all holding assorted weapons. "Wait a minute... This is a mugging, isn't it?". That time, the entire gang busted their guts. The leader turned around to face his lackeys, "This guy...". He then turned back to face Calvin. "Look, You're real funny. Tell you what, you give us your wallet, get back on your little tugboat, and get the hell out of our town?".

"Well I can't do that, I got somewhere to be tommorow.", Calvin explained.

"We know! You know who else has a place to be? Our boss! Now scram!" The gun-wielding goon shouted, firing into the air to make a point.

Calvin took a deep sigh, "Well friend, I just rode a boat for three hours, and I'm real tired. Let's make this quick". He put his wallet away. The gangleader raised his bat above his head. "Sure thing, you little--". Calvin's hand jerked forward and slapped the man square in the middle of the face with his large gloved hand. He dropped his bat before he hit the ground. The other four looked down in shock at their boss, groaning quietly, a large red handprint present on his face. They then turned towards Calvin, weapons raised. "You may have gotten the drop on our boss here, but you'll be sorry!".

"I'm Canadian, of course I'm sorry".

One of the goons growled as he thrust his Brass-decorated Fist straight at Calvin. Yet he simply slapped his assailants hand, sending the Brass Knuckles flying along the ground. He howled in pain as he held his hand and scuttled away.

"Coward!" shouted another as he thrust his dagger at Calvin, who simply grabbed his arm with both hands and hurled him back over his shoulder, just in time to backstep from the third gangster, who just barely missed a punch at his throat. With a heavy uppercut, the goon was sent sailing backwards.

BANG

The fourth goon fired a bullet at Calvin. Or at least pulled the trigger, followed by the pitiful *click* *click*. Looking down the barrel, he saw bunched up ice lodged. The gun was then jabbed against his skull as Calvin grabbed the back of his head and heaved it downwards. The goon fell forwards, and shattered his chin on the pavement. While Calvin leaned to slam the goons head into the ground, the goon he threw over his shoulder managed to stand back up, and rush Calvin from behind, as he shouted YOU'RE DEAD, NOW!".

Instead of meeting the face of some foreigner who already kicked half more than half of his gangs ass, his fist slammed into a thin wall of ice that quickly grew upwards between him and Calvin, who then lunged through his own barrier, easily shattering it, grabbing the Goons face, and throwing him into the bay.

Only one goon remained, nervously fidgeting the switchblade. He dropped it and ran away wailing, "Asshole! I'll be back with more guys! We're gonna seriously fuck you up, you'll see!"

Calvin shrugged and pulled his wallet out again, turning back to the ferry driver. "So, how much is the ti--". The ferryman was already scrambling at the controls, nervously waving off Calvin. "Oh no, i-it's free! J-J-Just stay away from me! Okay?". Calvin stared absentmindly at the ferryman, before shrugging and walking off. "Well isn't that just fine. I didn't have to give money to anybody tonight!".

Or so he thought, before he heard a powerful rumbling...

"Huh, knocking out some crooks sure does work up an appetite. I wonder if any place is still open tonight".

He continued walking through the streets of Rio, unaware as to the danger several other Nomads in the city faced.

[BayRat]

=Rio De Janeiro, 2:20 AM=

@Mr Allen J@DeadBeatWalking
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thud

Thud

Thud

Iron boots stomped along the streets of Rio with metallic chattering and heavy footsteps. A bizarrely armored figure, with wings almost folded on his back and a lumbering reptilian tail dragging behind him, marched over the crowd. Most of the bystanders would simply move away from the 6'5" giant as a pair of snake-like crimson eyes gave off a dim crimson glow, like candle flames.

Fafnir stopped abruptly when he heard a loud commotion, the familiar sounds of battle were near. His attention then shifted to a man who was shouting "T-There is a man fighting a dragon!"
The dragon's eyes narrowed.
could it be...another dragon?

The human-trapped dragon would spread his wings, flying into the air and over rooftops to get a bird's eye view. It has been so long since he has seen one of his own kin, centuries in fact. What are the odds he'd finally meet a brethren in this city no less? It didn't take long for him to locate the brawl. Drawing his lance as precaution, the dragon knight swooped down and landed a few meters away from the large reptile and warrior. Reptilian eyes gazed upon the two who were locked in combat. He didn't expect such an awe of combat performance before the tournament actually started.

[cloudystar]

Meo

"Err...I don't think I have much. I think I only have...10 American Dollars? Will that be enough?"

Meo didn't know how much he had...his family already knew about his poor knowledge in anything that isn't aquatic related so they did hide multiple packets of money in varied locations of the bag. He only knew about the top pouch containing the ten bucks and held it out to the police man rather tightly in case the man tried to pull a slick one and grab the money from him. His surfboard was still in his other hand as he constantly looked around to observe the station...after all, he's never been in such a fancy one such as this. Then again, he didn't really have a police station to compare it to since his village never really needed one. Though he is curious about the woman's well-being, he quickly turns to the cop and smiles.

"Will it be alright if I can see the woman soon for a visit? Just curious if I can talk to her since she's just a random person I saw and admire. She was really cool out there and if I can get her out of here...I do want to ask her a few questions regarding a combat tournament that should be in the area. No idea where it is hehe."

@redbaron1234@Mr Allen J

[redbaron1234]

@Mr Allen J

---

---

Margot flinched as the other woman broke her cuffs like a stale cracker, bit of metal flying everywhere. She sighed and took off her hat, running her fingers through her hair. "I don't mind being called 'Blue', but I don't intend on sticking around to explain to the cops where you went." She pulled out a bobby pin. “The most pressing issue for me right now, if we escape, is getting my weapons back. I can’t fight without them.” Her cuffs popped off and she placed them beside her on the bench. “Not all of us have fists of steel, after all.” Rubbing her wrists and stretching out a little, she added, “If you can help me get those back before running off, I’d be grateful.”

She quieted down as she heard some hurried footsteps walking by. “Lieutenant Mendoza, look at this. It’s a bounty listing. Looks like O Massacre de soldados have an open bounty on fighters. No wonder we’re so busy tonight.”

The footsteps stopped. “Hrm, then I guess we have a couple of Nomads on our hands. The commissioner’s going to throw a fit when he learns that a hotel’s been hit because of this damned tournament.” Mendoza growled in frustration. “Thanks for bringing this to my attention. You can go now.”

“Yessir!”

The other officer walked away, footsteps being lost to the din outside. However, Margot could hear a phone being dialed just outside of the truck. After a few seconds Mendoza started up again. “Hello, Chief Cardoso? This is Lt. Mendoza. We’re still wrapping up at the Costa Hotel… No sir, no tourists were hurt; it appears to have been a hit. The Massacre de soldados put out an open bounty on Nomads, and there were some staying at the hotel… Yes sir, we got both the hit-men and the Nomads in custody. Just two of them so far… Of course sir, I’ll make sure they won’t cause trouble again.”

There was another beep as the phone call was dropped. Mendoza muttered as he entered another number, “’Throw the book them’? Fuck that noise I’m getting paid for this. I’ll just say they broke free mid-transit.” After another pause, Mendoza spoke again. “Nevaja? Yeah, it’s me. I got a couple of those Nomads you guys are looking for in a paddy wagon right now. Still alive, I can deliver them to you tonight… Really? That’s great, I’ll head over as soon as I can. Just need to find the keys.” With a chuckle, Mendoza walked off. “Hey, you know where Hector is?”

Margot gave Brooke a confused look, and pointed in Mendoza’s general direction. “Did you hear that? What the fuck was that? I suddenly feel a lot better about breaking out now. Hopefully the rest of them are less corrupt and stupid.” She walked over to the back of the van and examined the lock. “I can probably pick this and get us out quietly, but we’re on the clock before Mendoza comes back.”

[KremeSupreme]

=Rio De Janeiro=

@Savo

---

---

After the scuffle with the goons, Calvin had wandered the entirety of the slums, getting his plenty share of strange looks from locals. Was it the fact that he was obviously not from around here? Or maybe the fact that he was dressed for a blizzard in the antartic. For the fifteenth time, Calvin's stomach let out a powerful rumble. After walking around for almost an hour and not being able to find the tournament, or even where he could eat, Calvin accepted that he was totally lost.

Rounding a corner, he saw two cops, one writing down on a notepad and the other eating a sandwich, which he quickly put away. Calvin perked up; Obviously they would know where the tournament was, and maybe where he could finally get some food. He walked his way over to them and waved.

"Sorry officers, could you help me? I think I might be a little lost."

The officer stopped writing and looked up, the officer eating the sandwhich spit whatever he was currently chewing on the ground. Calvin paid no mind. "Sure, uh... How can we help you?"

"Sorry, my name's Calvin, and I'm trying to find a uh... Fighting Tournament?"

The officer flipped to a new page and began writing, suddenly pausing himself as he looked wide-eyed back at his obese partner, who shared the same expression. "Oh! Uh... Give us a moment, sir." The police walked behind the corner, and after fevered whispering, came back around.

"Sorry, sir. Of course we can help you! You must be talking about the Brazil Fighting Cup, right?"

Calvin rubbed his scarfed chin, trying to recollect the exact moment he learned of the tournament.

"Pretty sure that's right", Calvin guessed.

The officers chuckled amongst themselves, and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "Here, just slip these on. Alot of people in these slums dislike foreigners, so with these they'll think we're arresting you. Trust us, we wouldn't do this if we didn't have any past experiences."

They slipped the handcuffs around Calvin's wrists, and started walking him. As they walked, Calvin saw a man with blonde hair wearing a white coat and carrying a satchel dash through the street. He wondered which person here had enough money to have a doctor sprint through the streets at 2 in the morning.

[Punished GN]

---

---

Swords loudly clashed as the two swordsmen went blade to blade.

Jaden was cocky as ever as he waited for Claudio to stab towards him recklessly. This was basically elementary (elementary) for the bounty hunting Ninja! A quick swing of Jaden's own blades launched Claudio's swords into the sidewalk, and were embedded. And this guy thought he was greatest? Nah-uh, time to-

In the instant Jaden was bragging, he received a sharp kick to the right cheek that knocked out a cloud of spit. It was a funny, almost cartoonish, display, as Jaden fell backwards. He hit the ground with a thud, as Claudio pulling his swords out of the ground. He leaped up into the air, with both blades back, and his blades were charged with ki as they glowed with a vibrant light.

It looked pretty bad for Jaden... until the young man grinned widely.

He did the Warrior's Salute from the ground, and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Appearing right on his feet with one of his swords drawn. He grinned as he swiped his blade across Claudio's midsection... and that was the blow that decided the fight.

Claudio's screams pierced the air as his army of goons lost their fighting spirit. As Claudio hit the ground, his eyes dead, and his mouth agape, he drooled a puddle. With Jaden victorious.

"Oh yeah," Jaden said with a grin. "I'm gettin' some money tonight."

Claudio's ki was fading... dude was wanted alive, but Jaden should be quick before the bastard dies. He would hate to piss off more thugs.

He could hear the sirens in the distance, and more importantly, he knew the police would rob him of a bounty! After goin' through all this, Jaden wasn't going to allow something so ugly. Jaden knelt down, and touched Claudio.

Doing the salute with one hand, Jaden disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Part of Jaden wondered if he was forgetting something...

---

&

---

---

Seven-Seven's feet transformed... her feet turned into jets as they sprouted wheels. Allowing Seven-Seven to skate across the floor as she dodged attacks that were directed at her being. Until her lower body turned into what could be comparable to a jet, and blew across the land. Coming to a stop right next to where Justin landed. She knelt down as the goons surrounded them, and tried to wake up her cybernetic friend by pushing on his chest.

"Justin... Justin..." Seven-Seven said. "Wake up."

Justin's eyes opened wide, and glowed brightly with a electronic blue light. He looked up at Seven-Seven and said, "Yeah, I'm awake... just needed a second."

"It was definitely a sick kick." Seven-Seven smiled, and Justin rolled his eyes as he climbed up to his feet.

"We should go." Justin said... around this time, Jaden had taken out Claudio, and the police were swarming in. It was for the best that they get out of here before the police identify them. Nomads can't be thought of too kindly here.

"Captain obvious makes another excellent observation." Seven-Seven said with a bout of laughter, and Justin couldn't reply. Only shake his head as he looked up at a building.

"Beat-Pulse." Justin said as he hopped up to the rooftop assisted by a burst of sound, grabbing onto the ledge, and bringing himself up, as Seven-Seven merely quick-boosted up to the rooftop.

---

_{@redbaron1234}

---

---

Brooke tightly clenched her fists as she heard them speak - those bastards! Now Brooke felt a lot more justified in wanting to break out of here. Only problem was that if she beat up a bunch of cops, that wouldn't go well for her... but, if she snuck out of here... ooooh yeah.

"Yeah, Blue, pick the lock for me," Brooke said to Margot, before putting a hand on her hips, and giving her the thumbs up. "I'm going to get your swords back for you!"

Despite Margot looking surprised, Brooke was definitely confident in her abilities to steal back her swords. They were probably being held by one of these crooked cops, before forensics showed up (... If that was how it worked here in Brazil). If Brooke makes a suitable distraction, then it'd be easy to get them.

When the door was opened, Brooke smiled. "Just sit tight, I'll be back in no time..."

She hopped out the back doors of the police van, and kept it low. The police were swarming this place, they probably wanted to nab more Nomads, or more members of that stupid gang. Brooke kept her head low as she moved forward. Oh, this was just like sneaking out of the house, but with more cops, and more danger involved.

Brooke stayed on the outskirts of the perimeter, and caught eye of the cops holding swords, as he was talking to two other officers. She wasn't sure if they were even the right swords, but how many loons carry around swords? But, he didn't look like he was planning on keeping them as evidence... probably gonna sell it. Now, that would be inconvenient to her swordswoman friend.

She kept her body low as she walked up, thinking about how in the hell she was going to get the swords from them without having an army of cops on her. Maybe she could sneak them, or...? There was a rock nearby that gave Brooke a good idea. She grabbed it, and threw it hard as she could at the vehicle they were leaning on.

Thus, giving them quite the spook, but it didn't give Brooke the opportunity she needed. Well, to hell with this. While the guards were distracted, Brooke ran up, and grabbed one of them by the arm, and before he knew it, he was over Brooke's shoulder, being slammed into the ground. Before the neck cop knew it, he was kicked it the face. The last cop tried to call for help, but received a punch to the face.

Messy... but, Brooke didn't alert any of the others. Grinning like a fool, Brooke grabbed the swords, and quickly made it back to the vehicle Margot was being held in.

"Yo," Brooke said, as she presented the swords. "Told you I'd do it."

She grinned like a fool.

"Now, let's get out of here."

---

_@cloudystar

---

---

The cop loudly laughed in Meo's face. He really doesn't know how things go around here! He sounds like a complete fool. When the cop stopped laughing, he said,

"If you don't have the money on you, get out of here!" The cop cockily said. "I have no time to waste on poor brats who don't know their way around here!"

The cop turned away from Meo, and decided to finish what he was doing.

[Little Bill]

---

---

Billy and Sage traded blows of varying effectiveness -- Sage's quick speed meant that Billy had missed his swings more than he had landed, while Billy's tough hide held up to Sage's glancing spear thrusts. Out of the corner of Sage's eyes, they noticed a figure swoop down from the rooftops, though it seemed to only be observing their battle. In Sage's split moment of distraction, Billy locked arms with the angelic fighter, unsheathing his boot-knife with his tail and quickly stabbing Sage in the side, leaving the blade in for Sage to extract.

"That'll do ya for now. Time to bounce, aheheh." Billy growled with a coy smile, taking a few steps back and grabbing the rim of a manhole cover. With a grunt of exertion, Billy ripped the steely disc out of the ground and hurled it blindly at Sage, before leaping downwards in retreat.

_{will edit to add details, just getting the gist of it down for now.}

[cloudystar]

Meo

Meo had no idea what to do after the cop's instant denial to even allow him to see the lady he wished to see. Sighing as he starts heading out, the boy did keep note of the rude attitude and laughs a bit as he remembers that not everyone is as kind as the people back home. This was of course, a different part of the world after all. The surfer now with no clue on how to gain the information he needed, decides to wait around on a bench near the station...asking a random bystander occasionally a very much repeated question.

"Good afternoon ma'am or sir! Um if it's not too much to ask, can you point out the way to where a fighting competition is being held? Something about a lot of money being given to whoever wins it so I very much need to attend! Problem is that I have no clue where it is so if you can help me out...that'd be smooth sailing!"

[Savo]

---

---

Pivoting around a corner, he brushed past a couple in gaudy clothing whose faces were redder than radishes. The male with his half-strewn clothing didn't seem to appreciate the man bumping into his partner, seeing it almost as a challenge.

Jonas registered the man behind him attempting to clasp onto the side of his coat and quickly yanked it away from the vicinity. He didn't need to be slowed down, especially by some random passerby whose breath smelt of some Cachaça. He went on to ignore the thud of the other as he continued scanning the area. Taking a look to the side, he noticed a familiar appearing car.

Dashing into the alley, he stayed to the shadows and hid behind a dumpster that would make any regular human retch. He took quick peeks behind the bin, his line of sight seldom obscured by a random civilian. The car was slowly cruising and didn't speed out of the area. Frowning a little, Jonas turned his head down the alleyway and swiftly weighed between the two, taking frequent glances between either or.

He soon shrugged it off and dashed down the sky high hall, utilizing his knives and string to climb over the wall. As soon as he was over the other side, he made a break for it.

Out of the passage, he almost surprised a few people, giving them a genial but rapid good evening before continuing to run... and skidding to a halt.

"Hey boys, tak'a look who it is!"

One of the four shouted before pointing directly at the doctor. Stepping back, Jonas was ready to bolt for it, if not for what one of them said.

"Quick, get th' rest on this! Then we kin' git this fuckboi!"

Jonas registered one of them pulling out a walkie-talkie. On instinct, he drew a knife and tossed it with impeccable precision and velocity, destroying not only the device, but impaling the now tear strung gang member's hand. The person glared intently at him before her companion produced a second talkie.

"Distract his pasty ass! I'll git the rest on the line."

Jonas quickly produced more knives, staring intently at their vital spots as he displayed some gritting teeth. Couldn't they of just given up or something?

---

Otsana inched her way down the crowded streets of Rio, trying to avoid the multitudes of late night clubbers and other nocturnal denizens. She had a safe house set up a few miles away, but at the rate she might as well walk. If someone was after her, she was a sitting duck unless she could find a quicker way. It did not help that her phone insisted that this was the fastest route. "Continue down the street for 5 miles."

Stopping to let pedestrians pass she noticed that several of the streets in this area simply were not on her maps. "Shut up, Siri!" She checked that her guns were secure in her side car, and turned down one of the more open side streets. She howled as she gunned it, the revving of her engine was enough to clear out the few pedestrians on the street.

Bobbing and weaving her way through the side streets, she enjoyed the feeling of finally cutting loose. That is until she turned the corner and nearly bowled over a bunch of gangsters running to cross the street.She could hear them shouting to each other. "'Ey, they said that the Nomad was over here!"

She skidded to a stop, nearly hitting one of them. One of them even had the gall to to shout at her for nearly running them over. Then the phone that she'd taken from David beeped. She instinctively took it out and gave it a once over.

Hey Boyz, David just got taken out by a Wolf Girl with Guns named Otsana. She's riding around the area on a motorcycle. Watch out.

---

Finishing off the woman with a brisk kick to the jaw, he scooped up the scraped up device as his eyes wildly began to survey the area; he was plenty certain one of the pedestrians nearby was contacting the police. Great, just the last thing he needed on his tail were a buncha cops and some gangsters who had the gall to show themselves as hot stuff.

Grunting, he ran down the streets, but before ducking into the entrance of a nearby shop the moment the talkie flared to life.

"We-ktch-el," the talkie crackled for a moment before coming into focus. "Look's like she wasn't drunk as those idiots claimed!" The voice guffawed for a moment before continuing on, Jonas staring intently at the people in the vicinity.

"We got two targhut's in the aree' - Jonas the Doctor and Otsana the Wolf Gal. We know where the doctor is, lets make sure to corral em' both! She's currently at..."

Jonas grimaced for a moment as he stood completely still, focusing himself until he "shed" his skin, making a doppelganger of his own. The look-alike blinked as Jonas stared intently at it before hissing some orders.

"Head thattaway, I'll go the other way; keep those O Massacre de soldados away from me and Otsana." The decoy didn't speak but the duo headed off on their own, Jonas taking a quick right across the street up north whilst the fake went the opposing direction.

"Alright, now where is this lady? Hopefully not howlin' to the moon or something..." Continuing to head north, he look intently at the supposed east. If she hadn't departed yet...

"Hey, it's her!"

With that echoing shriek, Jonas stepped it up as he swiftly approached the corner.

---

No sooner had Otasana put the phone back in her pocket then did the first shout ring out across the street. "Hey, it's her!"

Already a group of thugs surrounded her on all sides, boxing her in on her cycle. A baseball bat swung down at her, and she barely manged to catch it with one hand. Drawing her pistol, she shot him a few times in the gut. He dropped to the ground, moaning in pain while she kept the bat. She flipped the bat right side around and rested it on her shoulder. "Come at me, I've faced nuns tougher than you bastards." One of the gangsters darted forward to grab her gun case out of the sidecar. She swung the bat down on his hand with a crack. "Don't you dare touch my—" She yelped as she was grabbed from behind and thrown off her bike. Without missing a beat a burly gangster jumped on her, trying to pull her gun out of her hand.

They wrestled on the ground for a while, the others giving the standing around them, unsure of if they should step in. Otsana had her military training and her ki. Her opponent had sheer size and tenacity. "We've got a little tournament of our own going on, see how many Nomads we can get tonight. You're about to be Dan's third."

Otasana grinned. "Really? No fancy nickname?" She reeled back and headbutted him. Dan cried out in pain as his nose broke, hands instantly going to it. Otsana took the opportunity to roll him over and get on top of him. She pressed the barrel of her gun under his chin as she pulled out her shotgun. "Not 'Dan the Destroyer' or 'Dirty Dan' or literally anything else?" She sighed. "Man it would've sucked to die to Dan."

"Heh, I know whatcha mean." He had a sneer on his face as he eyed his comrades.

With her back exposed, some of the braver gangsters rushed forward, weapons primed to bash Otsana. Their weapons shot up into the air and to the sides... until the sounds of something flying midair pierced through, followed by yelps and gurgling noises pervaded the atmosphere around. The sounds of weapons clashing onto the ground were accompanied by slams. Not too far away from the group was a blonde man staring at the whole assortment of gangsters.

"The hell?!"

"... Jesus H. Christ, isn't there anyone amongst you all who knows how to let someone finish a conversation," he grumbled, rolling his eyes as he cocked his head to the side. There was an amused frown on his face as he constantly blinked, examining one gangster to another.

"Moreover, let me get some damn sleep?"

Otsana looked up from Dan just in time to see some of his henchmen take all of three steps towards them before falling to the ground in crumpled messes, knives sticking out of their bodies. She spotted the blond man in a lab coat through the gap in the crowd and gave him a thumbs up. "Thanks!"

"Ey', looks like it's our lucky day!"

Jonas couldn't help but keep his mouth agape, staring at them as if they were children enjoying a game of tag. Some of them approached him, others keeping an eye on the wolf girl, sporting an almost similar shit eating grin Dan had earlier before Jonas showed up. "I just injured some of you, possibly killed one of your members, and you still say it's your lucky day," he grumbled nonchalantly.

Seriously, these imbeciles were acting all the same - cocky, sluggish, and just plain abrasive. Jonas didn't even bat an eye as one lunged out with a metal pole.

"Your precious lil' daddeh putta HUGE ASS bounty on yaaa!"

With his trajectory all mapped out, Jonas did the unthinkable... and threw dust in the mans eyes, catching him completely off guard. While he was busy wiping the dust from his eyes, he slowly cracked his knuckles as one of the few fighters descended on him, swinging at the doctors head.

"That makes two," he sneered, ducking almost immediately ducking as a chair and brass knuckles flew into the sightless mans head instead. Jonas rolled backwards as they came to the revelation of what they did, the body crumpling downwards like a puppet.

Meanwhile Otsana looked down her own group of thugs keeping one gun pressed against their boss' head and the other pointed outward. They were all tensed up, ready to pounce at the first opening. One shouted as he ran forward, and got a shotgun blast to the stomach for his troubles. "Dan, It really looks like your dudes do not give the slightest fuck for your safety." She leaned in with a toothy smile. "Oh well, guess you have no use here."

"Wait no, I can call the—" Dan was silenced by a swift pistol whip.

Jonas recoiled back as the one with brass knuckle slugged him in his gut. Not too shabby for a lowly grunt like this. He winced a tinge as he studied the man who began to shield his brass knuckles buddy with a chair... heh, fools should always keep their eyes peeled...

Tossing down two knives that impaled the concrete, he saw the two tumble over each other in a daze. Jumping at the opportunity, he descended on the knocked down duo, giving the one on top a nice tasting of his fist, whilst the one on the bottom received the full blunt of his drop. Quickly rolling off the groaning gangsters, he watched as a few more combatants decided to rush forward at the doctor and wolfgirl.

Drawing more knives, he assessed the situation, noticing one of the few gangsters scurrying behind a vacant car. Either they were pussin' out, or something else...

Otsana got up, guns at the ready. Already the ring of gangsters around her had started to reconsider, flinching away as she turned to each in turn. Unfortunately for them, she didnt need to close the distance. With an explosion of light and sound, she fired wildly, cutting them down as they ran and scattered. A few fell to the ground, covered in burns, while others dealt with fresh bullet wounds.

"Just... ugh... lose... conscienceness already," he hissed to no one in particular except the now choking minion who was gasping for air, as well as grasping at the binds to his neck. Jonas continued tightening it, gritting his teeth as he stood his ground before kicking the mans legs underneath him. In one single action, he swung his leg on the unbalanced man, swiftly inching away as a satisfying crack reached the pavement.

Dusting himself off, Jonas quickly set to work looting the bodies, checking specifically the pockets of each of the goon he clobbered. As he stopped to pickpocket one of the unconscious victims, he looked up at the wolfgirl who seemed to be brandishing her guns at the now destroyed gangster. Rubbing one of his ears, he couldn't help but observe the mess they made... ugh, and her loudass guns made it like a mosh-pit at a rock concert.

"Hey, uh, it's Otsana, right," he quizzed, drawing cash from a gangster. "Not to be much of a stickler, but could you check out that one gangster who took cover behind the car?" As he said that, he procured a scraped up walkie talkie.

Her ears flicked as she looked back and gave Langer a wave. "Sure did Doc, they go after you too?" Without waiting for a reply, she stepped over a few bodies towards her motorcycle, holstering her guns with a flourish. "Thanks for the help back there. Let me deal with this guy." She pulled a cigar out of one of her many pouches and lit it. After taking a few puffs of it, she opened up her gun case, pulling out her pride and joy. A finely tuned machine, it easily rested on her shoulder as she pulled out a drum magazine. She motioned to Langer to keep quiet.

Raising her voice she raised the gun up to her ear. "What's that Migi, you smell a survivor? Behind that car?" Spotting the gangster peering over the hood of the car, she slowly walked over. "I know you could shoot through that like paper, but that wouldn't be nice to the owner." The gun made a loud clacking as she pulled the charging handle. The gangster dropped behind the car and whimpered. Otsana made a show of petting it's barrel as she sauntered over. "Come on, it's just one guy, not worth your time." She paused a few feet away from the car and sighed. "Alright, we'll do it your way."

Humming some tune as she danced around to the car, she put the gun's sling over her shoulder, letting her casually hold it at the ready by her hip. The gangster was curled up in terror, rocking back and forth as he muttered. Cold metal prodded his shoulder, and he looked up to get a face-full of gun-barrel. With a yelp he tried to get to his feet but a swift jab from the barrel knocked the wind out of him. He fell to the ground and looked up at the gun-slinging wolf girl. "Mercy!"

Otsana took a long drag of her cigar and blew the smoke out of her nose, enveloping herself in the cloud. "Nah." The gangster cried out as she shouldered her gun and cackled. A burst of gunfire echoed down the street, but after that ended, the gangster was still screaming in terror. Once he realized he wasnt dead, he looked around him at the holes on the edges of his clothing. There were several holes in his pants between his legs. "Shit, I missed." Otsana shouldered Migi again, and the gangster fainted from fear. She smiled and turned around at the now white-haired youth and back to her cycle. As she put her gun away, she turned to the doctor. "So Doc, you're right to assume I'm Otsana. I take it you were targeted because you were fighting in the tournament tomorrow?"

Jonas couldn't help but chuckle a little as he caught a glimpse of the now fainted gangster... though he still couldn't help but feel a little off about the way the white haired youth acted. A little too smart for these buffoons... His eyes traversed over to the wolfgirl who quizzed him on the reason for being pursued. He tilted his head to the side, smirking at the lady.

"Great deduction skills Watson," he slowly came up, holding a few of the bloodied contenders wallets in his hand. As he did this, he patted the money against the temple of his head, one arm on his hip. "Don't think a lot of people could figure that out." Stuffing the wallets into his bag, he retrieved the beat up walkie talkie. His eyes shifted furiously between the man with holes in his pants and the walkie talkie as he began to toy with it.

"Considerin' your guess, I'm under the assumption that you'll be participating tomorrow, yee-" The device sprung to life, static permeating the air around. "ess?" Jonas looked up at the lady, smiling as he fiddled around with the device, trying to see if a voice would pop up.

"Kccch, got zzchat?"

Ooh, well speak of the devil. Holding a finger to his lip, he glanced at Otsana as one of the O Massacre de soldados gangsters began barking orders.

"... ztttt, Damiáo gave uzzzz Jonas' and Otsana's location! Now kccht screwin' around an' git to that street!"

Jonas' eyes lit up as the feed cut out. Dropping the talkie into his satchel, he rushed over to the fainted gangster, swiftly searching the bastards body until he felt the remains of a ruined black device. Clutching it, he swiftly tossed it to the side as he got back up, the remains of that talkie falling to pieces with a satisfying clack as it crumpled onto the ground.

"So Biker Babe, where ya headed cause we need to leave right now," he sounded oppositely of what he said, lacking any sort of urgency in his voice as he jogged over and began procuring weapons as if they were a bunch of souvenirs. "I would prefer to get some rest over wasting my time with these imbeciles, I'm plenty certain you would too," he spoke, whistling as he retrieved one of his crimson-caked knives, quickly doing a sloppy job of cleaning it off before putting it back into his coat.

She looked over at the sound of the walkie talkie springing to life. "I got a safe house lined up just outside of town," she said as she put her gun back in the case. She slung the case over her back and motioned to her sidecar. "Why don't we talk on the road. Might be a bit tight on the legroom but the sooner we get away from here the better." Getting on the bike, the engine roared to life. Putting on her goggles she revved the engine. "Unless you like the idea of walking?"

Snatching up a pipe and bat, he looked at the wolfish lady as if she was an arbiter to heaven. "Nah, I prefer biking with you over walking," he quickly shot out as he rushed over to the sidecar and cautiously got into the vehicle. Looking over the side of his arm, he took one last glance at the area before the duo rode off towards their destination.

---

Otsana sped away from the scene of the fight, making a beeline for the freeway. "So, I figure that as long as we keep moving quickly and erratically, they can't ambush us. Once we get to the highway we'll be able to cut loose and be home free. So,you got a name, Doc?"

While he was looking at her earlier as she spoke, Jonas suddenly began stared downwards, organizing the items in his bag. His eyes drifted between the wolfgirl and the bag as he stashed a syringe on one side, gauze on the other. This didn't go on for more than a few mere seconds before he looked over at Otsana.

"I go by Jonas, or Doctor Langer if I ever have ya as a patient." There, he said it. He gave a small sigh, blinking as he tilted his head a little to the side, looking at the scarred lady. What was a good conversation starter? Tattoos, ears, or scars? Bah, he could only wish there was a three sided coin to assist in this decision...

"Say, Fenrir, where'd you come in from? France?"

She gave him a sideways glance as she turned down a wide street. "Non, I'm from the north of Quebec. Saint-Félicien. Good guess though. How about you?"

"Ah, so you're a Canadian gal then," he quickly responded, now keeping some semblance of eye contact with her. "Didn't expect that considering your choice of clothing... would expect you to bundle up or something." Reaching for his coat pocket, Jonas pulled out a knife and held it gingerly as he brought out a part of his gauze from his bag.

"I'll cut to the chase and avoid making any jokes about maple syrup for now," he grinned momentarily as he continued. "I'm from the suburbs of New York City; not too shabby of a place if ya weren't involved in any wannabe gangs." He stared fondly at the knife, wiping away the crusty blood that had accumulated on the blade.

She let out a chuckle. "A Parka? Here? Shit man, just thinking of that makes me sweat. You'd have to be real committed to the Inuit look to wear that in freaking Brazil. So Jonas, what makes a doctor like you want to fight in the tournament? Don't really strike me as the 'former army medic' type."

"Wow, I was more expecting you to ask me if I was a certified doctor," he smirked as he did his best to relax in the tight compartment. "Regardless, you are right about me not being in the army; that never really struck my fancy." Pausing, he turned and looked directly at the wolfgirl.

"I'm here for three things - money, fame, and finding some competent nomads to assist me in a certain endeavor."

As he said that, he peeked over, eying the firepower and scars decorating her body. "And judging by your scars, you've seen your fair share of conflicts." His eyes began tracing her half-naked body up and down, focusing entirely on her blemishes. "You're a fairly competent fighter; I take you were part of the army or a group like MAVERICK?"

"Started with the Canadian Army. Part of their Special Forces. I technically worked alongside MAVERICK a few times. Always coming after they did their thing, mainly for mop-up. They even approached me with a job, but by that time I was getting tired with army life. Didn't want to tied up for another term of service. She scratched her chin as they barely stopped at stop sign. "From what I've heard, It's a good thing I did. A couple years after they tried to recruit me, they got their HQ blown up. Wouldn't have wanted to been there when that happened. Though," she shrugged, "Lotta jobs opened their doors to me after that. You're not bad yourself though. I take it you one of those docs that uses their medical knowledge to hurt as well as they heal?"

"If you consider choking someone with gauze and jamming needles into people, then yes, I do utilize medical knowledge." Jonas couldn't help but look completely straight-laced as he spoke that line, looking at her as he reclined a little into his seat. "... but yeah, in all seriousness, I do utilize some medical knowledge." Bringing up his knife, he began to perform an incision on an imaginary body.

"I still need to take care when thrusting my knife into someone, too superficial and it'll be like a paper cut." Suddenly stabbing downwards and 'struggling' to pull the knife out, he eyed the woman. "Too deep and I won't be able to make a swift followup. It's dependent on what I'm targeting, whether it's a part of a specific cavity or a a part of the body that's proximal to the head."

Carefully moving his arm back, he gently put the weapon back into his coat as he continued. "Though, as much as I use my medical knowledge, I'll have credit my other experiences for keeping me afloat."

"Hang on, we're here." With a final hairpin turn, she turned down into a narrow alleyway. They pulled into an old mechanic's garage, and she hopped off the bike.

Almost immediately a middle aged woman in a set of overalls came out of the office. "Boa noite. What can I do for you?"

Otsana slowly reached into her boot and pulled out a folded up piece of paper and handed it to the mechanic. "I got reservations for the night. Already paid for and everything."

The mechanic took a drag from her cigarette and looked a Jonas. "He with you? An extra guest will cost extra."

"Well,I'm sure he's able to pay, isn't that right, Jonas?"

Grinning, Jonas produced a few wallets from his satchel and began emptying each case, earning a weird stare from the woman. "Do all American's have many wallets?"

Retrieving more wads of cash, he could only wonder why some of the gangsters carried around a crapton of cash. At least he didn't have to put it on account or provide anymore services for the night...

"... and I think this should be more than enough," he gave the woman in overalls an affable smile as she promptly snatched the cash and began counting each and everyone before eying Jonas and stashing the money away. "This will do."

_{"It's a good thing we decided to diagnose those guys, ey,"} he whispered to Otsana, sporting a minuscule grin before returning his attention to the woman. "Thank you for your hospitality."

_{"With a terminal case of stupidity, amirite?"}

The mechanic shrugged and rapped on a metal door. A burly man unlocked it, shotgun in his grip. He motioned for them to come inside and placed a key in her hand. "Second room on the right, second floor."

Otsana handed both the guard and the mechanic a few bills as she carried her bags inside. "Thanks! Come on Jonas, it's late enough as it is." She took the stairs and opened the door to a small room, with only one bed and a ratty sofa.

Jonas couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as he stared at this beat up place. This was less sanitary than the other place he paid to stay at! He was quick to voice his opinion on the matter as his eyes drifted between the bed and the rancid sof- oh god, he swore he just saw a cockroach.

He was trying to stay as sanitary as is and this shop they were taking refuge in was going to make it difficult.

"This place is a dump," he grumbled to Otsana, scrunching his nose as he walked into the room, keeping his satchel nearby as he continued scrutinizing the area. As he walked by the couch, he glared at it for a couple of seconds. "Don't get me wrong - I didn't expect a three star hotel or some crap, but," he paused before tapping his shoe against the sofa lightly.

He could only click his tongue in disappointment as four cockroaches immediately scurried out of the ragged old mite bag. Jonas couldn't help but stare at the wolfgirl with a frown on his face. "... so, is sharing the bed an option, or am I going to have to sleep on the floor with the possibility of a cockroach crawling into my ass," he quizzed in a deadpanning manner.

She gave him a pat on the shoulder and pushed by him, throwing her bag on the bed. "If it does, turn your head and cough." She flopped onto the bed and tossed him a pillow. "Might be a bit dirty but nobody's willing to hit these places unless they want to lose their services."

"I'm going to lose a lot more than service in a place like this... besides..." His grip tightened on the bag as he gritted his teeth. "I gotta keep most of this stuff sterilized to the best of my abilities... preventative measures, y'know..." Jonas glanced back at the ratty old sofa, poking it once again with his shoe... only for it to crumple into a heap as multiple cockroaches swarmed out of the ruined furniture, leaving only a covering and some pieces of wood.

"Oh good grief, that sofa was like a frickin' hornet's nest for these insects!" Jonas couldn't help but clench his fists and teeth even tighter as the little devils began either escaping the place or burrowing into the seams of the wall. Even parts of the bed weren't as safe as some crawled up the bed-frame.

"So, ready to play pest control or do you want to find a different room?"

Otsana watched the tide of roaches head for the bed and jumped off. "... Okay yeah Imma go bitch to see if we can get a cleaner room for the night." Grumbling, she stormed out the door.

---

As the night seemingly came to a close for the duo, Jonas' restless eyes fluttered open immediately. Rolling upwards, Jonas stared at myriads of things, ranging from his clothes carefully strung across one arm of the couch to the now slumbering Otsana. Cracking his neck and stretching, he shoved himself up from the seat, scratching his barren back as he stifled a yawn.

Despite how things miraculously worked out for the two, there was a certain amount of dread emanating from the man as he walked over to the woman's rented bedside and stared at her. Jonas blinked multiple times, tracing over parts of her body before taking a glance at some of her weapons. Pursing his lips, he shot out air from his nose as he swiftly walked over to his bag and retrieved the gauze within.

Returning to the slumbering Otsana, he gripped the item intensely as he began to partially unravel the fabric. Midway, he stopped and just stared at her, unable to move. He furrowed his eyebrows as minutes passed on by. Letting out a sigh, he began rolling up part of the gauze and heading back to his psuedobed. He made sure to carefully place the gauze back before lying once more on the sofa, glaring at its backside.

"She's just an asset Jonas; just... try to stay friendly with her."