8831/A Fancy Brit, the World's Greatest Martial Artist and the King of Atlantis Walk Into a Bar...

From Heroes Assemble MUSH
Jump to navigation Jump to search
A Fancy Brit, the World's Greatest Martial Artist and the King of Atlantis Walk Into a Bar...
Date of Scene: 26 November 2021
Location: New York Harbor Docks
Synopsis: Shiva, Arthur and Roland meet at an underground fighting venue. Somehow, Roland gets convinced to sign up.
Cast of Characters: Arthur Curry, Roland Livingston, Sandra Wu-San




Arthur Curry has posed:
    For as many fine establishments, and as many lovely dining and entertaining locales to indulge in a soiree in the great city of Manhattan, it has no shortage of counterparts. For every grand hotel touted in the news, there is any number of seedy dives that charge hourly. For every Broadway theater there are a dozen places of questionable moral rectitude that indulge in a swell of humanity that screams and cheers for all sorts of events. Tonight, however, there are no grand parties. Tonight, there are no charity balls. Instead, for the people of Manhattan who indulge in the darker side of the world there is the main room at Sandoval's.
    Just off Little Odessa, near the docks, Sandoval's has been a stalwart place for the community. A community that had been known to count no many less than righteous citizens amongst its clientele. Perhaps having to do with the family that owns it having started up a criminal syndicate in the old country, it started as a place for running guns, then drugs, and only lately when third-cousin Dimitri was pressed into surface did it try its hand at events that might be considered less than legal.
    In the old converted warehouse, the sound was not overwhelming. The cheering wasn't wild, the crowd wasn't surging forth enthralled by the efforts on display before them by the two fighters in the barbed wire cage. They were mostly grim men and a few women who watched the two half-naked men pummeling each other severely spattering blood and sweat upon the sawdust covered floor in the cage. It was the steady scowling concentration one saw in the eyes of a pride of lions, or the gaze of old men waiting for their goddamned Keno numbers to come up. The same vibe, the same steady glower.
    Which isn't to say they didn't serve alcohol. For there was a bar, and at that bar was a man. Who at other times might gain a second glance from people while out and about. Here? He was just another large man who seems on the border between looking indigent... and like a roadie for a rock group.

Roland Livingston has posed:
This is not somewhere one would consider Roland's usual scene, but the adventurous young man is bored and that can be dangerous. He's found his way to Sandoval's after a hard day of dishing out food at a shelter. One of the residents told him about the goings on there and he decided to check it out for himself.

As he enters he looks over the various guests, especially the brawlers going at it, then meanders towards the bar. Looking over their offerings he decides on something safe, "Bottle of Coors, my good man." His upper class English accent is on full display as he fishes for some cash to pay for the drink and a tip. That's when he spots the shaggy looking guy he'd briefly spoken with a few days prior and lifts his bottle that way in a greeting, "I'm pleased to see you again, my good man. What are you drinking? I'll order us a round after I finish my beer."

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
One of the chairs not far from the bar was occupied by a woman. She appeared to be Chinese, with her almond shaped eyes and black hair. Dressed comfortably in a pair of black slacks, slipper style shoes of a matching color on her feet. The shirt was red with golden designs stitched through, wooden clasps in the place of typical buttons. There was a black leather trench worn over them all, tucked beneath her in the chair like one might a skirt.

For those that glanced her way, she was watching the fight. There was a rocks glass in her right hand, a small amount of whiskey still in the bottom. It was balanced atop her thigh. But to those paying closer attention, they might find her attention tends to wander to those around her. The other people watching. The small area where those intending to join the fights were gathered and chatting. In fact that area seemed to draw the most attention from her.

She finished off the last swig of her whiskey and rose easily to her feet, moving silently to the bar. A lifting of her glass to show she wanted a refill before placing it on the surface of the bar. Hearing the greeting, she glanced over at Roland and Arthur, as she waited.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    Roland's arrival is noted. Then his drink order is as well by the tender. Then his accent might get a second glance. For a time the tender sort of wipes at the counter, squints, as if imagining the British fellow might be making fun of him somehow. But then looks down, before squinting again. Finally he says the single word, with a heavy slavic accent, rolling that R slightly. "Coors."
    Though it's when the guy lifts his voice to the incognito Prince of Atlantis, well, it draws a slightly better reaction.
    "Hnh?" A beat, a glance, then recognition.
    "Oh hey man." He points with one hand, "Shit, that was good work back..." He gestures with a nod over his shoulder in the general direction of the docks. "Oh hell nah, I got you."
    "Pavel! Bottle of Shaughnessy." He punctuates that order by thumping his nigh empty bottle of beer on the bartop causing the tender to look back up and now say two words.
    "Coors." A squint. "Shaughnessy."
    In that moment there's a /crack!/ followed by a bark of laughter as one of the men in the heavy cage is smacked to the ground where the other fighter follows through and continues to pummel him as the referee makes to break them up, but without too much effort.
    Yet Shiva is able to observe and consider while that fight is decided, as well as the other fighters waiting for their turn at the winner of this. The current 'champ' in the ring is passingly decent for a brawler. He's won the last three, but he's getting tired, likely easy prey for the next two fighters coming up.

Roland Livingston has posed:
"Thank you," Roland says with a grin. "It's good to be appreciated." He gives a glance towards the fight when he hears the loud impact come from the cage. The young man watches the victor pound on his opponent even after he's down and frowns judgmentally. That's when he takes note of the woman who only just arrived at the bar and gives her a polite nod.

His attention returns to his acquaintance, "So the goal is to remain in the ring as long as possible? Does the prize go to the last person standing or to whoever takes out the most opponents? I must say, I've not much experience with pit fights such as these."

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
"Last man standing." The voice doesn't really give anything away about where the woman is from. Shiva's voice is smooth and accent free. She could be from anywhere in the United States possibly. Though in truth, she could sound native in many countries. Most people took things at face value, of course.

"He has won his last three rounds. He will not win the fourth." She glances back as the bartender arrives and fills up her whiskey glass, giving a nod of appreciation before she picks up the glass and focuses on the two mean near her.

"The smaller man in the black sweatpants will take him in the next round. And remain the victor until the end of the night, if the only combatants are those already gathered in the corner." Since someone else might come in and challenge. She looked over Roland a moment then Arthur. "Either of you looking to join in the sport?"

Arthur Curry has posed:
    Turning around to lean back against the bar, Arthur casts his gaze over onto the place where the fight is wrapping up as the unconscious man is dragged out of that ragged ring and his handler starts to try to revive him. Meanwhile another of the brawlers is stepping on in.
    "Oh, hnh. Probably about knockin' the other fella out I'd say." But as Arthur looks, his blue eyes narrow a bit. One casual glance around the setting and he can't help but notice Lady Shiva at her own perch, nursing her drink as his head tilts slightly. His lips part as if about to say something, then pauses... because that's when Pavel returns.
    The two words are spoken again, this time accompanied by the click-clink of bottles on the bartop. "Coors. Shaunsee." He pronounces with that grim tone of his before he wanders off, leaving the two to their own task of consumption.
    That is, however, when Shiva speaks so she gets another look. Arthur grunts and points at her a little with one beringed hand. "Do I know you?"
    Then he's distracted, "Yeah, nah." He dismisses the idea he'll participate in the fight. "I'm way too delicate." He offers as explanation. Then he /thumps/ Roland on the shoulder. "My man here, he's a killer."

Roland Livingston has posed:
"Is that so?" Roland asks, sounding curious about the woman's assessment. "It'll be interesting to see how he does, then." Of course, when Arthur thumps him on the shoulder, Roland lets out a laugh. "I hadn't planned on participating, but I might give it a go. One can learn a lot trying new things." He starts looking around for a bit, trying to pinpoint where exactly he can sign up or if there happen to be any rules posted anywhere. He takes his beer in hand and has a swig, "Do I just strip off my shirt and get in line?"

After another swig he shrugs his shoulders, "I'll work on my beer first, then decide if I'm in the mood to engage these chaps in hand to hand combat. Not many of them seem to have much of a ground game. I imagine I can take this one in a stand up fight, but grappling might give me a bigger edge."

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
"Perhaps," is the response that Arthur gets when he asks if he knows Shiva. She doesn't elaborate. Doesn't throw a bone his way to help him figure out where he might know her from. Where would the enjoyment be out of that? Nevermind it might lead to a fight and she was here to observe tonight.

As Arthur volunteers Roland as the fighter, she turns her assessing gaze to the man. "A killer, you say?" She looks him over quickly then turns to point in the direction of a man in the corner. "Him. Speak with him if you opt to participate. All forms are allowed though most only know how to brawl." There is a hint of distaste in her tone at that last word but she continues like it never happened. "Lack of shirt is not required though it does help with the cleaning bill later."

Arthur Curry has posed:
    At the question from Roland, Arthur isn't exactly forthcoming on advice nor knowledge for he answers with a shrug and a sound that is not unlike, 'muh-nuh-nuh.' Then he takes up a pair of glasses from one end of the bar and flips them right side up, then pours the whiskey into each with a faint slosh of sound.
    "Figure you go up there, say you're joining, and if they try to stop you, then you beat them up. And stop only when you've won?" A very Hobbesian point of view in some ways. Though at that he takes a sip from the whiskey, makes a satisfied sound with it, then refills.
    But Shiva offers more helpful advice so he murmurs over the lip of his glass, "Or that, she probably knows better." Yet when he speaks there's an element of distraction to his tone, likely still trying to place Shiva somehow. After a few moments he gives up as it's not coming.
    Though that's the moment when the next fight starts and gets under way. And, to Shiva's credit, as the fighters step toward each other the new one is bouncing a bit easier while the one that's put down three opponents... he's clearly flagging. They step in and throw a series of punches, grapple and struggle. Nothing decisive, and clearly without the elegance that Shiva might be curious about.

Roland Livingston has posed:
"This would make for a nice bit of practice," Roland says as he studies the fighters again. Then he glances towards Shiva and nods, "All forms are allowed? Very good. My Jeet Kune Do is feeling a little rusty compared to my BJJ." After that he pours the rest of the beer down his throat, "Alright, you lot have talked me into it." It didn't seem particularly difficult.

The Englishman stands up and heads towards the guy Shiva pointed out to him, "Pardon me, sir, but I would very much like to participate in the event this evening. Do I need to sign anything? Is there anything that I need to join in?"

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
As Roland makes the decision to join the fight, Shiva simply gives a nod of her head. All the words are being noted. But for her? It's less words and more action. She can see how he moves. She can see any calluses that might give away his training. She can pick up on nuances that most humans don't even realize exist.

Once he is out of earshot, she motions to another man nearby. "Five on the newcomer." He nods and goes back to his numbers, taking bets, making notations on a piece of paper.

Then Shiva's attention is back on Arthur. "Is he as good as you say? Or will you need assistance getting him home after he is severely beaten?" She already knows the answer yet she is being polite, making conversation. Not because she feels the need to. Most times, she wouldn't bother. But being who he is? It amuses her to do so.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    Near the ring at its edge there is that man that Shiva pointed out. Other watchers turn their eyes toward the Brit as he makes his way up toward the edge of the ring while within its confines the men engage heavily, starting to throw more intense strikes and straining as they push each other around. Still the crowd, and it is a fairly appreciable one, is not so much cheering as watching with severe intent. Though now and then one will snap sharply in Russian something that could be construed as encouraging... or insulting.
    Roland speaks to the bald man there at the entrance to the ring, and that bald man looks up. He gives Roland a once over, as if gauging him, then his judgement? A shrug. "Two hundred. Fee." He rubs two fingers together then slaps his hand against the other to signify the need for the transaction.
    Of course in that same moment there's a sharp /CRACK!/ as a spatter of blood hits the mat but the two men continue to go around the cage.
    Which, however, leaves Arthur on his own which has him sparing a glance now and again for Roland, then Shiva, then back to Roland. He raises his voice, "I'm good for it, Siv. I mean the guy's got a yacht so he's prolly good for it too. Still."
    It has the Russian gatekeeper grunting, "Da."
    Though now Arthur is moving across and away from the bar, taking the bottle with him. Once he gets closer he rests it on the edge of Shiva's table with a clunk. Then draaags it along the edge as he makes his way to one of the adjoining seats... and drops into it with a grunt.
    "He popped some guys decently. Made it easier for me to do my thing. He's got guts at least." That said he turns back to look at the ring, swigs from his bottle. Then without looking at her he asks, "What's your name?"

Roland Livingston has posed:
"Two hundred? Very good," Roland speaks as he reaches into his pocket for a billfold. He peels off some currency and offers it to the guy, glancing towards Arthur and giving him a thumbs up afterward. "This should be educational at the very least," he comments as he peels out of his jacket and starts unbuttoning his shirt. "I don't suppose these folks here are going to want to place bets on final outcome? I still have a little money left over."

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
As the money is offered by Arthur but then Roland is pulling his out, Shiva turns to her new table companion. A quick flick of her gaze as he swigs directly from his bottle before asking his question.

"Sandra," she answered immediately. First, it was her name. Though it was one she hadn't used for years. It was always simpler to go with the truth than a lie. Less to remember in future encounters. Second, the name she went by these days might be more familiar to the Atlantean. After all, Lady Shiva was in their files at the Justice League most certainly. Batman would've made sure of it. Just saying Shiva might ring as unusual but still could help him remember why she was familiar.

Sandra was normal. Common. There were songs over the normalcy of Sandra, after all.

A glance to the ring then to Roland. "He seems comfortable, despite this being a situation outside propriety." Which could be telling a lot about the Englishman. "I hope you are correct since I just bet five thousand on his winning." Sadly, it would just be a doubling of her bet. They knew that if she bet, it was likely that person would win. She didn't get long odds on them, unlike everyone else might. It was the price she paid for being right too many times.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    Meanwhile in the ring, there's a rush of movement as the two fighters come together and each grab hold of the other. It's a classic clinch, one repeatedly trying to slam the ribs of the other, while the new fighter is settling in and trying to lock up a standing guillotine choke. Hard enough, strong enough as the fighters bounce off the ropes partially and struggle to maintain a grip. Then one hits the mats and within the space of a minute the former champ lies unconscious.
    Which leaves the new victor, the one in front of Roland in line, and Roland himself... though the next one in line seems to be having second thoughts as he glances over sidelong at the British man and gestures that he can go ahead if he wants.
    Though the general vibe of the room is growly, somber, and grim... well at least Arthur goes a bit of the way to trying to liven it up as he /clap-clap-claps/ and calls out. "Let's go, British Bulldog, you got this!" He clap-clap-claps again, clearly supportive and of course the rest of the room is angling the stink-eye at him. But for some reason none of them are willing to give Arthur grief. Or at least too much grief.
    After that, however, he quiets down and says without looking at her. "Sandra, hnh." A glance over then as he gives her a once over, gaze dropping down then up. Not a look like a man checking out a woman's beauty, though she wasn't unattractive. Still.
    "Arthur," Then his brow furrows, "You know I never did learn this guy's name." Which, ever one to follow his thoughts and whims, Arthur then shouts, "Hey! What's your name, man?"
    Only then does he answer toward what Shiva said, "Well if you bet five thousand hopefully you can afford to lose five thousand. Too rich for my blood." Which, ultimately is true. Arthur isn't exactly rolling in the dough.

Roland Livingston has posed:
As his upper half is now nude, Roland finds a place to stick the stuff he's not wearing. His attention is mostly split between the men in the ring and his other future challengers, studying them briefly. Should they notice him watching he'll nod towards them, no sense in being impolite to someone. Once he's stashed his gear he starts bouncing on his feet, going through the early processes of warming up before the bout.

Things seem to be going his way, there's at least one person chanting about British Bulldog. The Englishman even hears Aqua Man call out asking for his name and replies, "Roland. My name is Roland." When the guy in front of him in line motions for him to go next Roland nods at the fellow and says, "Thank you, my good man."

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
"I do not bet to lose."

Which sums up Shiva. She is not one to gamble. For her, this is a sure thing. If it is not, she will be shocked. And potentially annoyed. At who? Good question. It was never good to upset Shiva.

"Arthur." She tried out the name. It wasn't what she knew him as. He was one of the League. Thus the name she knew was the one he'd been granted due to his status as the man from the sea. The one who could deal with the pressures and cold of the depths while communicating with the creatures the lived in the waterways of the planet. Honestly, it was quite impressive. Though his fighting style was more brawl and less finesse.

Truth be known, that was the same for most people in her experience. Even a lot of trained martial artists, she would categorize as highly lacking in any fighting abilities at all.

But some had promise. She wondered if Roland was one of those. She was always on the lookout for those few diamonds, which could be polished.

"I am surprised to find you at this type of event," she admits.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    "Roland," Arthur repeats to himself, nodding a little and it's clear he's committing the name to memory with a few soundless repeats of it rolling over his tongue, then making a face as if to say that it meets his approval. He looks over at Shiva then repeats as if she hadn't heard. "Roland.
    In the cage, however, Roland gets the heavy metal door opened in front of him even as the announcer says something in Russian to some of the other men who seem about the business of placing bets. One or two look over in Shiva's direction and then pointedly pull back their money, apparently willing to sit this one out.
    "You are the ready?" The referee, a hard man with a stern face and clearly some sort of skin disease on his bald head asks Roland in a not so thick Russian accent as the others, still...
    But without waiting for the answer he turns and asks the same of the other fighter, who gives a grunt and a nod in return. Which seems to be enough to have the fighter shift into stance and get ready for whatever this British man might have to offer.
    Then, when Shiva speaks to him, Arthur gives her another side-eye before taking a swallow of his whiskey and sets the bottle down on the table finally and out of his hand. "I am surprised you are surprised and apparently know me." To be fair, a good number of people know Arthur as Aquaman, his fame having grown though he's far from the most recognized of the Leaguers.
    Perhaps not the smartest thing to say in the world, Arthur adds. "You don't look like a groupie to me."

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
"Groupie?"

The word is left hanging in the air. There isn't any change in her tone of voice but something may have shifted in her nonetheless. Shiva keeps her eyes on the match in the ring for a moment then speaks again without looking at her tablemate.

"Far from it. I simply hear things. Particularly about people who show up on the news practicing heroics."

She glances over at Arthur a moment. "Certainly your ego shall remain intact despite this disappointment."