Mach2

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Vander all but gave up hope the second she saw Deon's expression shift into a scowl. She knew it as well as he did...the man could have any of these girls in the bar. An offer from a terminal drug addict probably wasn't topping his list.

As the two men entered the ring, she followed uneasily. She stood behind the initial row of screaming women, blending into the crowd. Her stomach was twisting, and no longer just because she was physically ill. She sized them each up. Both men were muscled, but it was clear which of them looked like they belonged. Where Deon had torn off his sweaty wifebeater, James had unbuttoned a clean dress shirt. He was talking to his brother, but the conversation ended quickly. And the second he straightened up, the fight began.

The distance between them vanished, and Vander flinched visibly as the first blows sent James to the ground. He rebounded, and she hoped, just for the briefest of seconds, that he could somehow turn it around. The hits came quickly, slamming into Deon's torso and face, before he staggered back. And when he did, Deon moved in.

The two of them slammed against the edge of the ring. They were directly in front of Vander, and she could see their faces clearly. When the sharp snaps of James' backbones cracking sounded, several women's screams shifted from adoration to terror. Vander was one, giving a horrified gasp. She looked around in a panic, torn between calling for help and attempting to intervene herself. But before she could so much as move, police and security guards were storming into the ring to split up the fight.

She took a step or two back, breathing deeply, and watched as James walked out of the ring. Relief flooded her, seeing that his back had not been broken. The snaps they had heard were simply the innocent pops a person could inflict by twisting their torso. Although significantly more severe, as she could see by the way he now held himself. She followed, hesitant, as he returned to the bar. The eyes of everyone in the club followed them after the brutal fight, and she wanted to will the starers away. Instead, she simply slouched, her shoulders hunching and her dark hair falling into her face, until James approached her again. "It was nice meeting you, Vander. I'm sorry we didn't get to finish our conversation. Maybe, if you want, we can sometime."

He held out a card, and she took it. Reading the text on the piece of paper, her eyebrows went up just slightly. District 1. She had expected Zone A, but not the highest you could live without being in zero. When she met his gaze again, her expression was filled with concern and remorse. She felt truly awful. It was, in part, her fault that the fight had occurred. Her fault for talking to him in the first place, for not trying harder to reject Deon's initial flirtatious advances, for not giving a better incentive for him to throw the match...

"I'm sorry," she said simply, the words as sincere as possible.

She gripped the card tight, making an effort to return James's smile before watching him and Mason walk out of the club. The cop's disapproving glance didn't go unnoticed by her, and Vander returned it with an icy glare. Even though she was grateful for him breaking up the fight, it didn't change her view of authority figures.

She chewed at her bottom lip for a second before shoving James' card deep into the pocket of her oversized leather jacket. He was nice. Decidedly one of the nicer men she had met in her lifetime, and she would without a doubt make an effort to see him again. But not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not until she'd managed to get another fix, and could present herself as a somewhat-in-control member of society rather than a craving addict.

Her drink was still sitting at the bar counter, and she slowly walked back to it. The chatter in the club slowly started up again, as did the hard guitar chords. Vander downed a large gulp of her drink, set it down for a second, and then seemed to reconsider. She picked up the glass again, and tossed back the remainder of the dark red liquid.

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That collab was intense.

Well, I can't find my laptop charger. Gonna attempt this mobile posting business. :/

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Oooh, can't wait to read it.

I will trt get another reply up tonight, if I don't fall asleep first. The cold I was getting over has attacked again in full force.

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I'm so pumped to see how this plays out. >:]

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Post up!
This is gonna be an interesting fight now, eh? ;D

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Just as easily as James had brushed Deon off, Vander did as well. The second his hand was reaching for the jaggedly shaved hair, she pushed it calmly away. With a few years as a dealer under her belt, she had inevitably run into all sorts of his kind of scum. Men with big muscles and bigger egos. And each one, she declined just as easily.

This guy was serious with his attempt to come onto her. She raised an eyebrow as he pushed himself in between her and James, a complete invasion of her personal space. Any other girl would have reacted differently. Some may have slapped him, several seconds ago, but Vander knew that a girl's slap was akin to a tickle for an undefeated bar fighter. Other girls may have succumbed, flattered by the romanticism of flirting with a small-time celebrity. Vander simply sat there, watching him intently. She listened silently to his sales pitch, completely ready to turn him down when he finished.

But his offer to get her whatever she wanted...it grabbed her. An iron fist had clamped itself around her attention, and she could think of nothing else for a split second. The calm left her face, replaced instead with a sudden intense focus. A fire ignited in her eyes, and her mind held only one word. Lucid. He had the drug. There was no doubt, he had the drug. Or someone who could get it for her. Deon had the power to diminish the pain that was coursing, even now, through her bones and joints and organs. He could get her the drug she was so badly craving.

She only barely managed to keep herself from blurting out an acceptance. She was talking to James. Not Deon. Just because some drunken moron threw himself at her...the second she managed to get herself back under control once more, the announcer was yelling across the club again. Before she could react, Deon had pointed his finger at James. "Him! I pick him!"

Behind Deon, the girl watched James' face shift to an expression of shock and, perhaps, even slight terror. It was instantly replaced with a cold scowl. She watched him, imploring him with her eyes to find some way to reject the call. Instead, he slammed his empty drink down and turned to face the crowd. "Alright! Let's do this!"

Vander grimaced. The crowd grew deafening once more, eager for their bloodshed and concussions. James had turned, facing the man he'd been talking to much earlier. His friend, or brother, or someone. While the screams of the crowd were still sounding, she seized her chance. Her hand snapped out, bony fingers grabbing Deon's forearm in a grip that was surprisingly strong. She stood, the space between them, if possible, shrinking even further, and spoke. "Anything I want, right?" she questioned. Her eyes were intense once more, her voice audible by Deon and no one else. "I want him to win. You do that, we'll see about that good time you offered me."

She released his arm, and the edge of her mouth tugged up into a slight smile. It was pure and complete flirting. The distance between them grew once more as she sat back down, raising her drink to her lips, and continuing to stare Deon down. Maybe, just maybe, Deon was drunk, stupid, or desperate enough to fall for her split-second decision. And if he did, she would come out on top. James would defeat the undefeated, and she would have a chance at scoring a hit of Lucid.

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Oh good. I'm looking forward to posting for Vander, too. :3

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I'll hopefully get a post up after Gonzo. :)

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Slint! Hiya! My CS is on page 5. :)

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I think I saw that movie, and I sort of kind of remember it. But I was falling asleep when I was watching it. XD