In the corner furthest from the unmanned bar, the action was picking up.  A cheering circle of casually dressed adults marked off the makeshift battle ring. Most of them had drinks in their hand, and were either watching the fight or chatting. New faces and old staff enjoying themselves. A small marker board had been set up, with a paper taped to it. It read simply. “[u]Rules[/u] – [b]1.[/b] No killing strikes. [b]2.[/b] No weapons. [b]3.[/b] Don’t fuck up the Lounge. – see Jake for More”

Underneath that, a pair of names were written in red marker.

[color=ed1c24][u]Pim vs. Queen[/u][/color]

A man’s Cajun accented voice floated above the rest. “3 minute mark! Can Pim turn things around, or is Queen gonna take the cash?” This came from Jake, who was marked as such by an absolutely ridiculous gold plated necklace that said “Jake” on it. He also had a microphone and was clearly having the time of his life narrating the makeshift match in a theatrical voice.

The crowd cheered and shifted as one as one of the combatants got shoved to the edge of the circle. Pim was tall, heavily built, and looked like he watched MMA breakdowns on his days off. White, mid-20s, arrogant, a dime a dozen in security and goon work. He was also losing – and not happy about it. 

“Hold still!” He declared as he launched a vicious kick at the other occupant of the ring. It seemed that his opponent had other ideas. Monae Queen redirected his attack and momentum with a textbook application of Bagua Zhang, leaving her opponent half stumbling toward the other side. With a teasing smirk, she smacked Pim on the back of the head as he flailed. 

“Nahhh!” Laughter echoed through the crowd. Her dreadlocks were pulled back in a ponytail, and she made a red fitted tee, and black leggings look like haute couture. In contrast, she looked calm and almost bored. Again and again, she gracefully dodged and drifted and parried him, to the building amusement of the assembly.

“Aww! You *almost* got me that time.” Nearly sending him to his knees on the floor seemed to be the last straw for Pim. Red-faced, he launched himself at Queen in a brutal sequence.

“Fight me, you bitch!”

“...[b]Fine[/b].” The mocking smile on her face dropped. Queen uncoiled, her counterattack so sudden it was invisible. One moment, Pim was on the attack. The next, he was getting a series of swift strikes in the ribs. The last sent him sailing, ass over ankles, out of the ring.

Jake quickly counted down. “One! Two! Three! Aaand The winner is Miss Queen!” He pulled out a roll of cash and tossed it to Monae, who caught and counted. “What’s the move, cherie? Calling it quits, or double or nothing?” 

Monae pursed her lips, briefly, before tossing the cash back. “Double it!”

“OK, you bastards, bitches and baddies! Who wants some walking around money! Who’s got the guts to get the G’s and glory?!”