[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/No63pEQ.png[/img][/center]
[code]The Golden Throne - Strongriver Plaza, Hedgemont[/code]
[center][sub][/sub]
[/center][hr]
Jackson had gone through a few dance partners as the songs the DJ was playing had went on. One song and partner required Jackson to respond a certain way and another required him to respond a different way, but regardless of what the situation demanded, one thing that was clear to anyone on the dancefloor was that anyone within the periphery of Jackson’s vision was that he was having the time of his life. There wasn’t a single worry on his body, nor hinted at in his graceful movements.

In the last seconds of the most recent song that was played, Jackson felt the call of capoeira beckon him, so he gave a little tease to those who had been dancing with him for almost ten minutes. He transitioned his footing into a back handstand, and pushed off of his right arm and twirled around. He came upright to the sight of - well, at first glance, it looked like Doomsday from that godawful Batman v. Superman film that completely ruined the character.

Jackson couldn’t find himself to move. Not because he was scared, but he thought the screams he heard as he transitioned upward was the screams of delight because he was giving the crowd something to cheer about, not because of whatever-the-fuck-this-thing was brought fear and terror to their eyes. EVen before Jackson knew it, the club had been emptied.

Well, probably save for a few people. Like for one, the bartender was frozen still. Out of fear, no less. And to make matters worse, the behemoth of a man was heading straight for him. Obviously out of blind rage. 

With Jackson behind the bar and the beast-man making a bulldozing b-line for the bar, Jackson ran as fast as he could, taking the bartender to the ground just a mere pace out of the lane of the Abomination’s path of destruction. But just Doomsday from Dawn of Justice, it seemed this beast was a one-man wrecking crew, and wasn’t going to stop, so Jackson would, instead of running away, give the bartender a brief window to get to safety. As for Jackson himself…

“Hey ugly!” Jackson called out, jumping the counter. “You want some of this!?” Jackson, ungracefully, shook his gluteus maximus at the beast. 

No matter how far-gone the mind has gone, there is something universally disrespectful about getting an ass being shook right in your face and having to lash out in a fit of rage. Call it a pride thing.

And that’s exactly what Jackson had intended to do. By doing what he did, Jackson lured the beast away from the bar, which would allow the bartender a brief window to get the fuck out of dodge. This meant that Jackson was alone with the beast. What fun.

As Mr. Pride himself came at Jackson, the male would wait for the right moment. Just as the beast was a pace or two away from him, Jackson flipped forward, an arc of fire trailing along his body. As his leg came down dead center on the beast’s head, the fire surrounded his foot, giving it a much needed boost of power behind it. The end result was that Jackson had halted the beast where it stood. And, as if time stood still, Jackson thrusted his arms forward, producing two streams of fire to strike the beast in its ugly head, forcing it back to the bar. The fire would set the wooden counter ablaze - and possibly the beast itself.