There were countless people out there who hated the cold. It was a reasonable enough thing to dislike- after all, the cold brought on hypothermia and frostbite and what have you. It was generally just unpleasant as all hell, really. Stride was among the many who went out of her way to avoid a chill like the plague, albeit for reasons different than most others’. After all, [i]most[/i] people didn’t risk keeling over and dying when things got too chilly. Cold-blooded, Cal told her. 

Regardless, Stride was determined to finish what she had started- even as the rain began to pour in buckets, she only muttered a curse under her breath and brought her jacket tighter around herself. It was too far now for her to turn back or call a cab, and, besides, her heat packs still had some warmth in them. She would be fine. 

Eventually, the doors of the local bar clicked open, and in stepped a very soaked, very cold, and very relieved hybrid. She had only taken a few steps inside, feebly attempting to pat the front of her goggles dry, when another of the bar’s occupants crashed into her and sent her careening into another table. Stride fell to the floor and sat there for a moment or two, stunned, before leaping to her feet and catching the man by the shoulder. [color=#BC6101]“Hey,”[/color] she said, [color=#BC6101]“what the fuck?”[/color]

The man shrugged out of her grasp. “Your fault for not getting out of the way, lady.” Now that Stride had gotten her bearings, she could see that the jackass who had shoved her had been in the middle of a fight with some other guy- in fact, it seemed as if there was a full-on bar brawl going on- but her problem wasn’t with him. Grunting, Stride crossed her arms, glaring daggers at the man’s back. [color=#BC6101]“I just walked in, ya asshole. How the fuck was I supposed to know you’d be comin’ at me like that?”[/color]

The man glanced over his shoulder, looking less than impressed. “Maybe if you hadn’t had your head planted up your ass, you could’ve gotten the [i]hell[/i] out of the way.” He squinted. “And what’s with that whole getup, anyway? Look like you just rolled in from Halloween.” 

What a right and utter prick. Perhaps she would have just let the guy be on another day, just told him to fuck off and go and get herself a drink, but Stride was already in a bad enough mood as it stood. Plus, there was a part of her that was itching for a good, bloody fight. Scowling, Stride gave an inarticulate cry of [color=#BC6101]“fuck you”[/color] before clocking the guy in the temple. As fist and bone connected, the man staggered backwards, before going red in the face and introducing his own hand directly to the center of Stride’s stomach.

The two went at it for only a few minutes, during which Stride obtained a freshly broken nose and her new friend had his eye blackened, before the power shifted. The man slipped out of range of her latest attack, then trapped Stride in a headlock, squeezing tight around her throat. She gasped. Clawed at his arm a bit. No dice. Breath coming out in shallow pants, Stride jammed her elbow into the man’s gut, slammed the heel of her hand into his face, and, twisting free, threw the guy to the ground. 

They were like that for a few moments, Stride standing over the man, the man lying stunned on the ground.

Stride swallowed. 

Then let out a breathless laugh.  

She brushed some of the rain-damp locks from her face, gave the guy a quick glance-over, and, deciding he wasn’t too banged up, went to the bar and took a seat.

[color=#BC6101]“One basket of BBQ chips,”[/color] Stride drawled, [color=#BC6101]“and two glasses of whiskey. One for that guy over there.”[/color] She jutted her thumb back over her shoulder, towards the man who had, somewhat unsteadily, began to clamber back to his feet.  

It had been a good fight. It was only fair that the guy got something out of it.

As she waited for her order, Stride pulled the front of her mask down slightly, cracking the cartilage of her nose back into order before it could heal crooked. A thin trail of blood ran down her lip, but she didn’t seem to notice- still riding the high of adrenaline and energy that came with the brawl. She was [i]so[/i] caught up in the rush of it all, in fact, that she didn’t even notice that her wrist had begun to burn like she’d been branded. 

Which, in a way, she had. 

[@Erklings25]