1117/The Warehouse

The Warehouse
Date of Scene:	12 April 2020
Location:	Abandoned Warehouse - Chinatown
Synopsis:	Strangers in the fight, Alexander and Lady Shiva meet at a fight.
Cast of Characters:	Alexander Aaron, Sandra Wu-San

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Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Gotham State University is a draw for some. They offer good financial aid, their scholarships are generous, and the facilities are state of the art thanks to generous contributions from the Wayne foundation. But the only problem for new students... is that it's in Gotham.
    Not to disparage the fine city overly much. But the grim city does have a reputation, being the East Coast equivalent of Detroit, though perhaps not quite as bad. It does not have quite the same culture that New York or Metropolis might have. But for some people, those who at times go looking for trouble, that's just fine.
    And it is perhaps what drew Alexander Aaron to this warehouse late at night, to follow the rumors he heard over the course of the night, to wander around and chat up various people about the sights to be seen in Gotham's night life. The tour of GSU was interesting, and was the reason he was spending the night across the river into the old industrial city. But it was also an excuse to see the spectacles. Not the conventional ones, but the wicked and the wild.
    And that is how he came to be at Rollo's.
    Or rather it's known as Rollo's. There's no signage, no actual business at the address. Just a warehouse that is the site of a pop up venue where various gangs in Gotham come together to throw their best fighters at each other in that old building. It's a building that used to be tall storage for high stacks of crates, with a ring of offices around the edges of the upper floors. Perfect for an indoor stadium with the fighters being there on the central floor with all the plebes cheering and roaring as they cry for blood. And above in the VIP areas where the gang bosses and the high stakes gamblers circulate.
    Oh it took the occasional pay off to the GCPD to make sure they're not raided at inopportune times, but still. It was quite a spectacle.
    And leaning against the railing of one of the catwalks that surround the second floor, Alexander Aaron is indeed enjoying the spectacle. While below in an iron cage, two men are busily trying to kill each other.

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
The heat of the crowd rises upward bringing a miasma of sweat, fear, excitement and blood. It's a potent mix. Lady Shiva moved a step closer to look down at the two fighters circling one another. They didn't interest her. She had assessed their fighting abilities within two exchanges and knew who would win.

Her eyes wandered over the gallery of onlookers for something more interesting, stopping on occasion before moving on. A face, a young man's face so handsome that he would qualify as beautiful, rivets her attention but not for the exquisite symmetry of his features but some undefinable sense of power.

Now that is interesting.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    To most, Alexander blends in. Young, assuredly, yet there were other young people there. The children of the Patrellis, bloodthirsty and wild as they exulted in their VIP area, drinking and enjoying the occasional dose. This was simply an evening's outing for them. Or the Yang Tze Tong's younger generation, betting wildly about the outcome of the match below.
    But that blond youth with the curious eyes, he was watching the fighters at first. Observing the pacing of the two men in the cage, watching how they clashed and came together in violence. But after perhaps thirty seconds... she might notice that this youth in the blue jeans and t-shirt that proclaims proudly, 'I Escaped Arkham Asylum and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt', he has long given up paying attention to the fight. And is more now just... people watching.
    She might note him looking from face to face, offering a pleasant smile when some might pass by. Sometimes the smile is returned, more often it is not. Yet he seems unperturbed, as if he was above all of this somehow.

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
The crowd looses a deafening cheer below when they man she expected to win stuns his opponent who wobbles punch drunk. Shiva doesn't even spare a glance, unsmiling, she entertains herself with reading the young blonde's features. The face of an angel in this hell hole smiling serenely as though from some high mountaintop.

Lady Shiva makes a small cupping motion very slowly as though taking a baby bird softly into the palm of her hand. The mask like lines of her face soften very slightly still staring at the boy.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    There's a brief moment as a tall muscular man wearing a tight white shirt jostles past Alexander, shooting a sort of glower at the young man and then turning away to murmur something likely disparaging. To which she can read the blond's lips as he responds.
    'Quite alright.'
    And for whatever reason that has the tall man, a man that Shiva might recognize as Ramon Capaldi, free lance enforcer. The small mental file she has on the man might be rather short considering there is no elegance to this one, and what is more he's polluted his body with a raging cocktail of chemicals. No artist, barely on the level of detritus. But the people find him imposing, the way he glares and snarls and sometimes develops a bit of spittle at the corner of his mouth.
    But that youth stands there and seems not out of sorts at all. Just looking on curiously.
    A punch is thrown, roughly, growling as the larger man throws it. Ah, he must be drunk as well with how errant it goes. But what might be more remarkable is how that youth eases back just enough so that it cleanly misses. The second he does the same only from the other angle. And then is that his foot reaching out to step and hold onto the man's instep, preventing him from advancing further in a way that might not even be noticed.
    It's a casual calm way of disarming the situation and soon the bull of a man grumbles and turns around, starting to walk back along the catwalk, footfalls clicking upon the metal grating, as if suddenly forgetting that Alexander exists.

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
The light in the obsidian dark of her eyes glitters at the aggressive move on the drugged man's part. A minute raise of her chin signals approval for the blonde man's control, both physical and mental. Coolness in the face of provocation that most young men who frequent 'fight clubs' would always return hoping to impress others with how tough they were. That was on par with the physical fade from under the punch with the smoothness of a master. The black haired woman stirs slightly stepping into the light which sharpens the angle of her high cheekbones, and smiles at the young man.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    When the man turns away there is some measure of relief if tinged with amusement. Yet there's no fear to the youth, utterly none despite the setting, the wild danger around. He stands amongst some of the worst of the city there, if only gauged by humanizing traits. Not necessarily the greatest villains nor the most murderous, but ones who think little of the act and less of the consequences.
    Yet his manner is easy-going as if the world was his and he was simply there enjoying himself. A curious mix of hubris combined with a lack of fear, and as she witnessed a subtle control of skill. A curious combination.
    But then he returns to watching the crowd, enjoying the experience. Even as far below the fallen man is carried out of the ring, trailing blood from a twisted jaw. Whatever the finale had been in that bout they had missed it for the spectacle of their surroundings.
    It's then, however, that the young Olympian looks around the second floor at all of the city's upper class of villainry.
    And that is when he sees her.
    A glance, eyes drifting past slightly. Then perhaps to her amusement they return to her. There's a slight furrow to his brow. A small smile as if they had sighted each other across the tableau of something so innocuous as a charity ball or an acquaintances social shower of some kind.

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
Ageless as a goddess as imperious as one, too, Lady Shiva returns his gaze. Below voices clamor, as the newest contenders stripped to their underwear, are led into the cage. The barest movement of her left shoulder acknowledges the eyes that join hers from across the screaming pit of spectators. Her eyes drop to the cage, then rise, a shift in light changing the planes of her face and forming a question.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    She's a curious individual, somehow in some ways she seems apart from these proceedings as well. And for whatever reason... nobody comes near her. Nobody jostles her. Nobody even speaks to her even when a server might advance to offer some form of refreshment. It is like she is on a plane of her own, similar to how Alexander presents himself.
    But different.
    Those curious pale eyes hold hers almost as if a silent conversation were being held. Then she motions to those being brought into the cage. Two more warriors, a swarthy man with intensity and an older man with a calm facade, seeming to just take this as another night. A curious pairing, one is clearly past his prime, the other is a man at his height albeit not the most well taken care of for how his body seemed to carry many scars and a weight around the mid-section.
    A moment's consideration, and then Alexander looks back to her, lips twisting a little as he lightly rubs a fingertip against his cheek, mirroring the severe scar the younger man has on his face. Then he shakes his head, as if telling her...
    'That man has no chance.'
    And perhaps that is how it will be when the fight unfolds.

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
Lowering her eyes in agreement, she stands as still and as impervious to her surroundings as a statue radiating a calm watchfulness. Around her people move like a school of fish avoiding a potential predator.

The young man's assessment reveals a wealth of information about himself to her. Worth her time. Perhaps.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Below, the contest begins as the two fighters turn and start to stalk across the ring toward each other. The crowd goes wild, roaring, raging as the two men below clash for their amusement and for some for their income. But the blond youth seems less interested and just turns away from the railing that he had been leaning against. He pushes away and around, moving into the crowd. They don't avoid him, not overly so. Some might instinctively get out of the way, but others barely recognize him save perhaps for the occasional smile sent his way. Subtle changes in the body language of those speaking of attraction for whatever reason from several young men and women.
    But the Olympian slips past, wandering around the edge of those walkways, past the VIP rooms and their cheering people, making his way toward her.
    Until an older man in an immaculate suit lightly touches his arm. And for a moment Alexander's advance is halted.
    Some sort of conversation is had. Likely about her. She can imagine the words given by the one that actually knows of her. Knows of her reputation. Knows of her abilities. She can't see the man's words, as he wisely has his back to her. But Alexander's reactions... are an open book.
    There's curiousity, a casual acceptance of the man before him. Still no fear. No hesitation. Then his eyebrows lift as the man makes some kind of point. Normally that might serve to send people rushing off. To be told of the woman's capabilities, of the long line of corpses she has left behind her.
    How does the youth react? Without one whit of fear. Instead a smile, and then a nod of thanks. And yet he continues walking around the corner of that metal walk way, heading toward her.

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
The man that waylays Alex is known to her, she has no need to see his face. Memorizing his form and his meddling in her business will suffice for now. He might not appreciate how his little mission to inform the young man of who she is recorded in her very long memory. Men are, by far, worse gossips than women. Nothing new in that information but it weighs heavily against her willingness to work for him or his gang.

Shiva watches the handsome boy's progress towards her neither pretending that she has not seen him or making a movement to welcome him. There is grace in her dispassionate interest. He more than anyone has sparked her curiosity.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    That man, an officer for a syndicate that only holds partial sway in Gotham, he turns to look after Shiva and Alexander. His expression is pensive, but then he mentally washes his hands of it by turning away and starting to walk across the way and into one of the VIP suites, disappearing from view.
    But then the young man enters her field of view as he approaches and then pauses within six feet of her, standing there and tilting his head toward her, then back down toward the battle being fought which is little more than backdrop to them both.
    He advances and tilts his head, looking her over briefly and then murmurs, "If I may." He says, and then unless she stops him he'll take up a place leaning against the railing near to her, but not too close to be presumptuous. It's an extension of himself, stepping that close. But leaving her to close that final distance if she so wishes for them to converse.

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
Respect and due caution from the boy mark him as being not only intelligent but wise in the ways of the world. None of the presumption and swagger that a majority of men might display when approaching a strange woman, a beautiful woman, visibly solitary and perhaps vulnerable to the blind and unsuspecting. He appears to be none of those things. He moves through the throngs with as much quiet confidence as she does, with the assurance of the truly powerful who need no arrogance.

Dipping her head slowly, she indicates the railing next to her with a ripple of her fingers, focus returning to the match below.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Below the men battle, striking out powerfully, intensely so. There is the spatter of blood and sweat to mark their efforts, the roar of the crowds down below in the cheaper seats almost deafening to the people there. But above it is partially muted with the surfaces and shelter around them. Enough that quiet words are sufficient, and privacy is possible.
    Yet when the blond youth speaks it's with a casual manner. Open, if a touch respectful. And at this range she can study him easily. Can likely note the way his clothes don't entirely fit him, large enough to hide his form from a casual glance. The way that wild blond hair perhaps obscures his features at a look, hides the handsome perfection of his pale visage. Yet there's nothing he can do about those hazel eyes, with their too pale blue irises that wend their way toward jade green.
    It's with those eyes he looks at her now and he says with an easy-going smile, "What would you wish in return for your story?"

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
Heat rises along with the voices below. The spray of blood whetting appetites.

His beauty up close is breathtaking, Shiva imagines it as both a burden and a honeyed trap that too many have all too willingly fallen into, taking the bait. Like herself, he appears both younger and older than he might be in real years.

An eyebrow rises, she allows him to see that he amuses her. Chin high, she turns her head, a smile visible in the narrowing of her eyes, "Your own, of course. And a match. But not for public consumption, I do not fight for other people's entertainment.I do not give my story to just anyone."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Ah," The youth's smile is warm and open, and even with whatever he was told he seems at ease with her. Murderer? Master martial artist? Warrior? He is at peace with these facets of her character and seems accepting despite the way some might proclaim those flaws such.
    He looks away and down at the fight, and even as the older man seems to gain the upper hand, he turns to look back at her, finding her more compelling than the contest. "But what if I value my story moreso? Rightly so I would say for what other stake would I have of interest?"
    His expression has a hint of playfulness to it, his eyes glimmering subtly as he bites his lower lip, but then he uncurls a hand in her direction, palm up as if making an offering to her. Which he is.
    "If you wish for a match, perhaps we make it part of that. The winner must tell their story... to the /satsifaction/ of the winner."
    His eyebrows climb as if that was a fitting thing, awaiting her answer with a hint of curiousity to his manner.

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
"Satisfaction? Have I misjudged you? That presumes a lot." Lazily she examines him with the first smile warming her face.

"This would be strictly between the two of us. My interest is always in the fight. I do /not/ tell my story, to anyone. Still, that interests me that you would be willing to risk your own. It will not be commonplace. Of that, I'm certain."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "I include that caveat because it simply would allow follow up questions," The youth says as he turns to look at her, his curious eyes meeting her gaze and following the supple curve of her lips for a moment before his attention returns to her gaze. He lifts his chin and murmurs, "I simply know myself and know that I would wish to know more than you might be inclined to offer at first."
    That said he pushes off of the railing and then says to her, "Tell me where and when, and I shall meet you."

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
"Here. Tomorrow with no one to witness the fight. This eliminates go-betweens and busy bodies. I will arrange with the management here. They will do this for me."

The amusement that he might see, perceptible in the tilt of her head, the near smile that softens her mouth, is for herself. Were he older, she would consider him other than an adversary in combat. His subtleness belongs to someone with much more experience in the world.

"Time? Do you prefer the morning or the afternoon?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    There is consideration in his gaze, those eyes slipping to the side to consider the setting to their contest, pondering if it would be suitable and make a fine area. She likely can see a hint of hesitance there for some reason. Just the way he tilts his head slightly as if another matter preyed on his thoughts.
    But then he pushes it away and looks back to her, "Either is fine." Those eerie hazel irises meet her gaze, with the way he leans against the railing they are on the same eye level despite their size difference. She might see the flicker of something in that gaze, words unspoken. And perhaps wisely so.
    But it's in that moment, when she likely is wondering what he thoughts or words he might have stifled that his lips curl into that smile again as he lifts his chin and /dares/ to ask her, "What were you thinking there? Before you considered the time of our bout?"

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
"Afternoon then. 13:00 hours." Frankly meeting his gaze with a subtle shake of her head, she looks away and down on the ongoing fight. Both contenders having lasted in the ring longer that she would have imagined. His taking the offensive in his questions tells her a lot about his fighting style and his self-assurance. Her eyes harden slightly. "You presume quite a lot. I like that. I will tell you this once. That you act older than you appear."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Ah," Alexander's smile is a gentle thing, amused on some level but also charmed on another. He gives a small nod agreeing with her as he looks away before returning his attention to her askance, head tilted just so. "Well, if what I was told of you is so then I have but a few hours left to live. No harm in being bold until then, yes?" And as he says that his smile is warm.
    But then he takes a step back and tells her, "But thank you for sharing your thoughts. That was kind of you." He lifts a hand, "Until tomorrow then." And as he says that he begins to depart.

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
There are not many in the world whose words and demeanor attract her so quickly. Shiva is not blase, on the contrary. He has dropped a stone into the pond of her stillness, ruffling its surface and that deserves her attention. "Tomorrow then," she says to his retreating back and allows the smile that she kept back to bloom.

"Interesting."