[Center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/191025/b775f0ba0483060c7cb2b54cafacaf7b.png[/img] [color=yellow]MENTIONS:[/color] N/A[/Center] [hr] A knife planted itself into the center of a dart board; The sounds of a couple of goons already drunk off their asses going [sub][i]"E h h h?!"[/i][/sub] echoed through the saloon as they stood around shakily, watching the short blonde man in front of them nail his throw with precision. At their disbelief of another perfectly landed throw, he [url=https://i.imgur.com/5L5qBs2.png]posed[/url] and observed his latest toss; Noting it hadn't been his most centered, even if it was good enough to hit the center of the board. [color=yellow]"That's five,"[/color] He commented out loud, a sly grin on his face. Donny had just made a simple gamble: If he could land five knife throws into the center of the dart board, they'd hand over the cash. They didn't look pleased with the results despite their disbelief, so he doubled-down on explaining what to do. [color=yellow]"Hand over the coin, I won the bet."[/color] [i]"You 'tink just cause you landed a few lousy throws I'm gonna give you my money?"[/i] One of the men questioned, each standing at least six feet tall. There were three in total, and each of them began to look down at Donny with vicious looks. Donny could feel their intent; Feeling a large hand crash down on his shoulder. His eyes darkened as he lowered his head, a deep inhale marking his irritation with the situation... And the long sigh afterwards, marked his willingness to get it out of the way. [i]"Yeah! You think we're goin' to hand our hard-earned cash to some tiny pissant like you?"[/i] Another spoke, hand swinging down to crash onto Donny's other shoulder; Only to meet air and be caught in the Brando's grip instead. His movements had slipped him away from the first man with ease, leaving the two current assaulters simply staring in a moment of surprise. [color=yellow][sub][b][i]"You..."[/i][/b][/sub][/color] Donny hissed, the anger practically seeping out of his eyes with his glare into the eyes of the men towering above him. [color=yellow]"You're the types to underestimate, aren't you? Take your stature for granted, and assume that's enough?"[/color] He questioned, though had no intention of leaving time for answers. One of his hands slipped away from his grip, Donny keeping the arm in place with one hand long enough to reach back, gripping one of his bladed boomerangs. He swung it forward; Whacking the man in his grasp with it as a blunt weapon rather than cutting through his skin, as he didn't want all that blood on him. The impact was enough to make the man spurt blood out of his nose onto his own clothes however, which Donny found a mixture of exciting and fitting as he fell to the ground. If they were going to lay hands on him, they ought to at least be ready to fight. Clearly they weren't. [i]"You busted his nose, ya bastard!"[/i] One of the men shouted, as Donny backed away to reposition himself for a fight that looked like it'd be a bit more troublesome: While he wasn't scared, he didn't want those large fists walloping him into the floor. Goddamn it, he hated Thursdays. [hr] [hr] [hr] [Center][b][i][h3]CRASH[/h3][/i][/b][/Center] The sound of a shattered window marked a fight continuing on; A man laying outside the saloon now, with shards of glass in his face from his horrid landing, rendering him out of the fight. Another man found himself flying through the two saloon doors, the doors flapping back to a closing position before Donny pushed them open to exit himself, resuming his pose outside the saloon doors as he looked down at the two men before him. Before he could talk down to them, he found himself knocked forward by [b]someone else[/b] pushing through the entrance; The man he had knocked down prior, face bloodied and expression pure anger as he moved forward and swung his fist, connecting it with the back of Donny's head and sending him down into the dirt. [i]"That's right, ya little shit. That'll teach you to get rowdy, won't it?"[/i] The man mocked as he approached; The other, that had been kicked through the saloon doors, was still trying to get to his feet. Donny knew that laying there and eating the dirt wasn't practical; He needed to get up: [b]Quickly.[/b] Picking himself up on his hands and feet, he pressed his shoes into the dirt; Springing himself forward on the downed man to begin assaulting him with punches. It turned into a scramble match as Donny also had to worry himself enough to dodge the man behind him as well; So he sprung away the first chance he had to leave the second downed man dazed so he could possibly handle the third. Scrambling to his feet, Donny was panting; This all had to happen before the race, huh? Well, fuck it, he didn't really care. He'd finish this, [i]then win the race.[/i] It wasn't a problem. He truly only had one oppressor left, really. One of the others was out, and the second one would need a minute. Donny just had to be fast about it; And this would be-- [color=yellow][sub]"What the fuck?"[/sub][/color] He muttered to himself, feeling some dizziness. That hit to the back of his head; It didn't do him any favors. He was tumbling a bit now; Having tried to strike his pose but found himself unable to remain completely still as his view began to stir. [i]"What's wrong? Not as tough as you look?"[/i] His opponent mocked, Donny stumbling as he was approached. Though he tried to dodge, Donny ended up taking a punch directly to his stomach; Knocking the wind out of him and sending the short blonde American to the ground, coughing blood into the dirt. This was followed by a swift kick, sending him rolling in the dirt, but not expressing his pain. Instead he was gritting through it. [i]"You act tough but you really ain't nothin'. I could have handled this without 'em."[/i] The man seemed to disregard his strength in numbers, since he was the only one left standing. [i]"This is what we do to little party trick folk like you; Good luck getting your money from me after this."[/i] The man stomped on Donny's back, causing a shout of pain to actually escape him. Now stuck on the ground, he was getting the shit stomped out of him continuously as the three on one finally fell from his favor: The sight being perhaps, to some, disgraceful that so many men teamed against one. But at the same time, it was perhaps admirable or terrifying how much of a fight the small American put up against them. It was looking like none of that mattered now, however, as he was currently on his way to getting himself stomped into the road proper.