4435/Late Nights on the Booze

Late Nights on the Booze
Date of Scene:	19 December 2020
Location:	Wetworks
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Tommy Monaghan, Blake Riviere, Katsumi Oshiro

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Tommy Monaghan has posed:
Tommy Monaghan sits at the bar because of course he does. This place is a little swank for his usual tastes, but he's flush with cash after doing a particularly unpleasant job in Bludhaven and he figures he has the right ot spoil himself. Plus, he's not allowed back in O'Hurley's yet since that last barfight.

"Keep 'em comin', sister," he says to the bartender, a girl in an A-line tank with the word NO printed across it. "Don't worry, I read real good, I'll keep it strictly profesh." he says, eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses.

The club itself is dimly lit and intimate, with neon accents, the kind of place that used to be filled with smoke when that sort of thing was allowed.

Blake Riviere has posed:
A bar is a great place to get a drink...and a better place to get a -drink-. Blake did tend to prefer one for the pleasure of it and the other for the survival aspect, that alone had her stepping into 'wetworks' this evening. Why this particular bar? Simple, when one had lived for a while like Blake they tended to find things they liked and cinema fell into such a catagory for the vampiress. Maybe she just appreciated a good pun!

Wrapped in a more 'normal' attire in the evening courtasy of a pair of deep black jeans and an underbust vest of matching color over a bright red blouse to match the ribbon tying her hair in place, the woman made her way from doorway to bar with all the confidence in the world carried by her stride.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
New York, the future sight of the Four Corners event, is where the Japanese NLWF delegate has been holing up. Training, perfecting moves, running drills - it's all been standard fare since arriving in America, and a daily task. That is, for everyone but one stray member of Team Japan: Katsumi Oshiro. Physical and emotional stress, that's what they're calling it. That's why she's been blacking out and behaving so erratically. They're used to a healthy dose of chaos from the Punk Princess, but not at the level she's been delivering. Since being isolated from the others, she's found no reason to not let herself wander to other cities just to take in some new surroundings and breathe different air.

She wound up in a bar. Of course she did. She's not a drinker. She just wanted to chill somewhere dark for a while. She's taken up roost at the far end of the bar with something notably non-alcoholic in front of her - a clear, but fizzy liquid. Her unusually-colored gaze drifts to the male talking to the bartender, listless, and then to the female just arriving. She's dressed kind of unusually. Points for being different.

"Yeeaah, you're that Oshiro girl. My kid brother talks about you," comes the slurring voice of a man who's suddenly invited himself to the stool beside her. "Ain't you kind'a small for a wrestler?"

Katsumi, still staring forward, blinks. The eyes shift sidelong. "I'm a girl," she posits, her English remarkably on point with a metropolitan accent. "Would your brother like an autograph or something, Big'en?"

"Yeah yeah," wobbles the man. "Make it out to, to Todd. To Todd," he repeats with a wave of his hand as if to illustrate the message, "Grow the Hell up - Wrestling is fake."

A slender black eyebrow arches. "The f*** did you just say to me?"

Tommy Monaghan has posed:
Tommy Monaghan doesn't really have a lot of variety to his outfits. Longcoat, black tee, black jeans. Sunglasses dark as they can be. Not the reflective aviator kind that douchebags wear, just plain sunglasses.

He takes a sip of his beer and raises it towards Blake at her arrival, "Cheers to ya," he says, taking another long swig then turning his head as he hears the upcoming ruckus coming from Katsumi's direction, "Uh oh, looks like Leroy Jenkins there just sounded the charge. Somebody gonna get whupped."

Blake Riviere has posed:
Arriving at the bar Blake lifts a hand, a signal given to try and draw the bartender's attenion and place her order. Then there's the exchange that catches her ears, the slurring words and accented response making her turn her head towards the pair and their comments. A celeb in a sport she didn't really understand, ordinarily it would earn little more than a moment of curiousity, but the sudden raise of voices and rising heart rates has her glancing sidelong at Tommy and his comment with a little chuckle. "Certainly seems so..."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
To those gifted the ability to read minds - ahem - would know full well what's coming; Katsumi has already decided she's whipping on this dude. And the more he speaks, the stronger and more pronounced that decision becomes. Along with a string of growling, thought-out profanities.

"Oh what is that still a secret? Like a girl like you could beat up anyone!," laughs the drunken man. "It's like a fetish thing right? Girls all skimpy rolling around-"

"Hey! Tell ya what." Katsumi hops down from the stool and steps aside from it. Her body language is already betraying her intent: her slender frame is tight, fingers balled into fists. But she's put a toothy smile on her face. "How about I show you a trick, huh? It's fake, you'll be fine."

The bartender is immediately looking apprehensive. She starts to speak, but Katsumi waves a hand to her, "Nono, it's cool, it's totally safe." She's lying. She's about to beat ass. The bartender doesn't even look like she's buying it.

"Okay, sweetie, you gonna gimme a feel? We gonna hug like on the shows?"

Katsumi's eye twitches.

"Here." She lifts her left leg perpendicular to the floor. "See my foot? Grab it."

Tommy Monaghan has posed:
Tommy Monaghan chuckles. He can see into Katsumi's mind relatively easily and he already knows how this is likely to go. "This is gonna be good. I mean, not for this guy's spine, but for us watching." he says as an aside to Blake.

He shifts his vision a bit to X-ray the dude, kind of wanting to see any of the bones breaking in real time if it happens. Look, he likes a bit of Bloodsport, he's a kid from Crime Alley, it comes with the territory.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Blake wasn't a telepath, certainly not in the sense of Tommy. She could meserize and hypnotize, but Katsumi's thoughts were her own. Of course, her irritation and that heartbeat suggesting anger and deciet did give the game away a little. Not that Blake understood what trick exactly Katsumi was looking to demonstrate, she wasn't exactly well-versed in wrestling moves herself. "His spine?" she quizzes lightly with a tilt of her head, waving her thanks to the arrival of her drink and lifting her glass to her lips. "Or his chin? I am unsure what will come next."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Drumroll, please!

The man takes Katsumi's heel into both hands, but he isn't content to leave it there. He has to trail his hand up a bit higher than the ankle to her calf.

There's a spike in that rage.

Suddenly, Katsumi pops into the air, letting his hands remain occupied with her limb. The other leg, however, is the real problem. As her body twists over, the free foot swings in like a baseball bat, colliding hard against the side of his skull in a meaty *THWOK*. The impact overturns him, landing him hard on his side with the girl landing neatly on all fours. She pops back up to her feet and leans over the handsy-and-now-groaning drunkard. "That's called an enzuigiri," she says. And with a sneer, she adds, "Was it good for you, too?"

Her pulse is high in the fight-or-flight range. But her mind is already set on scrapping. Doesn't even have to be that guy. Just whoever stepped up next. In her experience, people like that always travel in packs. But to her credit, though the kick was solid, nothing was fractured or dislocated.

"You're /DEAD/!," growls the man as he starts to collect himself in a daze.

Katsumi takes a few trotting skips back from him, hands lifting with fingers splayed, as if ready to catch and grapple. "I'm your Huckleberry." But no sooner does she deliver the Tombstone line than a pair of meaty hands seize her by the shoulders from behind and firmly shove her aside, sending the punkette with a surprised squeak stumbling against the stools, counter, and ultimately, towards either Blake or Tommy! It all depends on how they've arranged themselves!

People like that /always/ travel in packs. And he's been joined by his two meaty drinking buddies, one collecting their incensed friend while the other snarls.

Tommy Monaghan has posed:
Tommy Monaghan sighs. On the one hand, none of his business, don't wanna get involved if the cops get called, she kinda started it, yadda yadda bullshit. On the other hand, he really hated these kind of shithead fratboy rich kids, which is usually why he avoided hipster bars like this in the first place.

"Looks like the fun's gonna get spread around. Sorry 'bout it," he says to the bartender, taking his bottle and turning to bash it over the head of one of the schmuck's cohorts.

Blake Riviere has posed:
A soft tsk, Blake shakes her head lightly as the man drops down onto the ground, where others are whincing or starting to stand in anger? Blake clicks her tongue. "Not quite the chin then. Still, quite impressive." Another sip of her drink, the vampiress seemed perfectly unbothered by the display of violence. The intrusion however, of the extra 'buddies' that grasp and throw Katsumi towards them? That earns a hand that lazily reaches out to steady the stumbling youth, her other hand downing the rest of her beverage and a soft 'ahhh' exhaled from her painted lips. Tommy way clearly quick to jump in, but the vampiress pushed forward like a feline uncoiling from comfort beside the fire with a little sigh. "Three on one is hardly sporting," she speaks, her own accent carrying notes of France. It's her only comment however before she reaches out and grasps a barstool one-handed, effortlessly tossing it low towards the legs of the other man as he moves inwards and letting him stumble forwards...right into a lift of her heeled boot which catches him in the shoulder and impacts hard on the man's clavicle.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
StumblestumbleCAUGHT! Katsumi's movements are halted by a single hand. She straightens her posture and wheels defensively on Blake, as if anticipating an attack from her. But what she says seems to imply the barstool she's lifting one-handed is meant for others. The *KSSHT!* of breaking glass gets her attention next, as Tommy shatters a bottle over one of the men's heads. He collapses in a dazed heap. Then the second man is tripped by a flung barstool, causing him to fall - right into a solid shoulder-punt. He, too, lands in a heap.

"Holy s***." Katsumi wasn't really expecting support. She isn't exactly used to getting it. People typically try to 'mediate' the fight, or rush her out of a situation. Not these two. That's a nice change of pace.

The last one standing, mostly, is the one who made the opening remarks. Full-on snarling, fists raised, he closes in.

Katsumi lifts her left hand. "I got Big Hoss." Assuming her stance again, hands lift with splayed fingers. Light on her feet, she skirts a little away from the bar counter to get a bit more room, and dutifully, the incensed man follows. Finally, he lashes out with a wild haymaker. The Japanese girl ducks, weaves to the outside, and snatches the offending wrist to manipulate it out, then twist it in tight against his back. Her left arm hooks his neck, standing chest to chest with him, and she hooks her left leg around his left shin. All in a liquid-smooth motion, she drops backwards with the secured hold. He pitches forward, and-

*BAM*

Forehead meets floor.

He's limply rolled off of her as Katsumi sits up. "Hammerlock DDT," she remarks. "Enjoy relearnin' shapes and colors, as*****."

By now, the bartender is having a fit and calling for security.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Satisfied as the smirk was on Blake's face as she lowered her boot, the 'less-than-impressed' words from the Bartender and the promise of security had her sighing and stepping away from teh bar. She -could- try and smooth things over, but she'd wait till next time. Too many eyes on them and the scent of blood from the wounds that had been inflicted was tugging at her hunger anyway. If the 'Draculina' was going to be pacing herself tonight, she didn't need to have the equivlent of junk food sitting freely next to her.

"Impressive technique," she offers, gesturing to the chaos. "I think, however, that we have now worn out our welcome. A shame...but then again I had yet to pay."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro is picking herself up and smoothing down her skirt when Blake addresses her. The comment gets a pause and glance to the man she'd taken down with a kick, presently writhing. "And you'd probably be adding a stool to your tab," she notes. She begins moving more swiftly, closing in to the barcounter. "Hey, hate to clean the gene pool and run, but you know," she chimes. There's a quick glance to Blake, and she's darting around the curiously-dressed lady to hurry on out the door and into the bitter cold.

She doesn't intend to go very far, however. She ducks beside the building at the corner of an alleyway, tucking her arms tight to her sides and her knees firmly together. Wearing an outfit like this was kind of okay during daylight hours. At night, it's just gotten frigid.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Sure enough, Blake wasn't going to be far behind. Striding through the doorway to the sounds of distress left behind her, the vampiress absently makes to continue her walk and digs into her pocket. A smartphone was one of the greatest wonders of the modern age among many that the girl born literally centuries had come to appreciate. Already she was absently scrolling, considering if she'd find another place or simply 'order in'. Dating apps, they were like 'Uber Eats' for vampires!

Of course, it's as she steps past the alleyway that the woman in reds and blacks pauses, tilt her head and turning to spot the clearly cold youth. "Do you know it -is- possible to freeze to death in this city?" she asks rather morbidly before shaking her head. "Perhaps you'd like to find somewhere warmer...or a coat?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"Both would be good," says Katsumi stiffly as her narrow shoulders hunch and her chin tucks. "And I've got a whole frigging ride back to New York to look forward to." At least the shivers haven't become overwhelming just yet. Her gaze flits in one direction, then the other. Gotham seems so much more... dreary... at night. Foreboding. If she weren't just coming off of an adrenaline high, she might go so far as to say 'scary'. But in truth, she's not upset. Getting to fight has put her in a positive mood. For a brief moment, she felt sort've comfortable and in her element. Violence is a weird medicine.

"You're not exactly bundled up either," she mentions to the woman.

Blake Riviere has posed:
"I plan to get warmer," Blake shrugs, "either via another bar or returning to my hotel. Depending on how poor the company is in the former." A pause, her phone is tucked back into her pocket and she gives a little laugh. "For now it is tolerable enough, but things will get colder out here." The paler woman folds her arms, a tilt of her head given for a moment as she sweeps her seemingly normal but no less detail-seeking gaze over the girl. "Those men, one asked for your autograph, no?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro gives a non-committal grunt. She's cold! Smalltalk is tough! And the chill is getting through to her bones with every passing second. A skirt was such a bad idea.

"Volunteered one. W-way he was talking m-made it sound like that's w-what he wanted. Even if he was a d-drunk d-d-douchenozzle." There are those shivers. No hiding it now. "A b-bigass footp-print should do f-fine, though." She smirks, despite the chill. But that smirk soon vanishes. "Holy crap, I n-need to get somewhere w-warm!"

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Walk with me," the instruction is given. It was a reasonable request, but a slight 'change' beneath the words might echo on Katsumi's senses. Just the slightest mesmerization given to nudge the girl towards the concept. "Perhaps we can find a pizza place or something, a diner in this city...or at the very least one might find a cab."

The vampiress was only marginally more dressed than Katsumi, but it didn't seem to be bothering her quite as badly as the poor wrestler. "Regardless of what he wanted, I'm sure you made your point on both fronts."