Post by Lepa on May 31, 2017 2:47:10 GMT
Welp. He probably deserved this.
Bill Pryce just had to insist on walking back to the hotel by himself. It wasn’t supposed to be far, only 20 minutes at best! And yet somehow, his walk spanned three hours. He had gotten lost in the city (as much as he didn’t want to admit it), and his "brilliant" shortcut lead him into a neighborhood that, frankly, looked like shit. Windows were boarded up, garbage littered the street, a puddle of oil pooled up in a giant pothole... Come to think of it, it was eerily reminiscent of one of the sets that Chiyoko battled on. A perfect scene for getting mugged, he had thought. The only difference? If he got attacked, there’d be no cute girl to save him...
And here he was, getting mugged, no cute girl to save him. He had to jinx himself like that, didn’t he...?
"Uh... look, pal..." The manager started, holding his hands up in meek surrender. He was staring down the sharp end of a large knife held by a rather... large man. "You, uh..." He glanced around quickly, hoping to find help. "You... sure did pick a good place for a muggin’, I’ll give you that...!" He looked back to him, smiling nervously. He could’ve easily turned tail and fled if he wanted to, but the question was just... whether or not he’d be willing to take that risk. Pryce simply wasn’t the athletic sort, and hoooo boy, the last thing he wanted to do was find out just how fast this man could stab him.
"Gimmie your shit."
"Haha! Hoo, man, I don’t... think you’d want... my... shit, yanno?" He laughed uneasily, inching back slowly. The thug growled, his knife creeping closer. "O-oh! Hey! That’s a... That’s pretty sharp knife there, yeah? Maybe don’t... point it so close to my face, eh tiger? I can’t, uh, really... reach for my stuff if you, ah, gouge my eyes out or something. Ha! Hahaha..." Why did he say that? Goddamnit, he wasn’t doing himself any favors. On one hand, he could give up his phone and wallet, but that’d be passing off some valuable, private information!
On the other hand, he could die.
And then this man would just loot his body and get his stuff anyway, so...
All right. Looks like he had no choice but to cooperate. "J-Just, uh..." He began to lower his arms slowly. "I’m getting my stuff, yeah? Okay?" He reassured shakily, frantically patting at his pockets, never breaking eye contact from the knife. "H-Haha, the funniest thing happened with my phone actually..." He stammered, pulling it out. "Seems like the damn thing, uh, trashed itself, so, ah..." His hand shook as he held it up, quickly adding, "B-But see? See? Doesn’t mean it’s worthless! You can still have it! Just don’t stab me for the love of god please," he pleaded under his breath. As the man reached for the device, Pryce’s eyes widened. He spotted a hand appear above the assailant’s shoulder, giving it a firm tap.
"...What?" The thug’s voice rasped, turning aside to glance back.
A fist hurled at his face, knocking him square in the jaw. The man staggered backwards, just barely keeping his balance. Pryce shrieked and immediately bolted, fleeing behind a public mailbox a safe distance away. He peeked out from the side, part terrified, part morbidly curious at what the fuck just happened.
"C’mon asshole," the newcomer growled, fists up in a ready stance. Like an enraged bull, the larger man charged at him, knife in hand. The size difference didn’t faze the newcomer at all. He shuffled aside, sidestepping the weapon. With a clear opening, he rammed a pointed elbow into the thug’s chest. From there, his arm snapped up into a backfist. It smashed into the crook’s face. The knife dropped to the ground with a clink, and the larger man stumbled backwards again, hunched over and clutching at his nose. He managed to lift his head, glaring.
"...Get on outta here." That was the newcomer’s blunt statement. "You look like already got the wind knocked outta ya... This fight ain’t lookin’ fair to you."
"Fuck... you..." he grunted.
"...Tch." He lowered his arms. "If that’s how you want it..." He muttered before lunging at the thug.
Pryce looked on as the smaller one continued his one sided onslaught. Should he have run? Yes, absolutely! But he was curious about this fighter. The guy was obviously no magical girl, but what were the chances of someone else coming along like that? He still couldn’t believe it. Was it a sign? Maybe it was a sign. The wheels turned in Pryce’s head...
"Ksh!" the newcomer grunted, punctuating a flurry of blows with a final heel kick to the gut. The criminal dropped to his knees, falling face first into the pavement. The other kept his stance for a few moments. Eventually he dropped his fists, relaxing. "...Hmph." He loomed over the body, experimentally nudging it with a foot.
"AMAZING!" Pryce blurted out, running up. "Can I just say that was the most impressi- oh, wait," he began, but quickly turned to the downed thug. "How do you like them apples, eh?!" He kicked the crook’s side. "Haha! Yeah! Not so tough now, are ya?! Don’t mess with the Pryce, baby!" Another kick. "Fools like you end up paying... the Pryce! HAH!"
"Dh..." The other man shook his head, his expression flat. "...Don’t do that. Just... don’t." Pryce stopped, looking to him. He glanced back down. He frowned, giving one last soft kick. The fighter ignored it.
"If you’re lost," he said, pointing down the road. "Just head all the way straight and turn left at the pizza place." He looked to Pryce. "That’ll take you back to the main road... and safer streets." He turned away to leave. "Don’t go doin’ anything else stupid now-"
The fighter felt his arm tighten as he was yanked back into place. He was face to face with the strange man in the obnoxious suit, who had grabbed his hand and began shaking it enthusiastically with all the gratitude in the world.
"Like I was saying, that was amazing! Let me tell you, buddy! I thought my goose was cooked, yeah?! Bill Pryce is the name, by the way," He beamed, still shaking. "But you smashed that guy into a fine paste! I’ve seen a lot of fights in my day, but nothing quite like that, yanno?!" His handshake intensified, though his savior’s arm was limp and his expression flat with mild annoyance. "I didn’t even know you could string together moves like that! Especially that front flip into... whatever you did to his neck! That was crazy! And this is great, you see, because I’ve a client in the business of fighting and- GH!" Pryce squeaked. The fighter had tightened his grip on the manager’s hand to get his attention.
"Look," he grunted, staring him in the eye. "I don’t know why you think we’re all buddy-buddy now. Just ‘cause I saved ya don’t mean anything." He frowned. "Didn’t you see what I just did? What makes ya think I can’t just do the same thing to you?"
Pryce stared for a moment. "Beeeeecause... you’re a nice guy who wouldn’t beat me up?" He smiled. The fighter just sighed.
"...Are ya really just that dense?" He released Pryce’s hand. "Is that how ya got into this mess to begin with? What, did this fella just tell you he could get you some big bucks and got you to follow him? Jesus, c’mon."
"What? No! I just got lost, honest!" Pryce waved a hand around. "...Which reminds me! Would you like to make some big bucks?"
"Okay, now you’re just fuckin’ with me," The fighter turned around to leave again. "I’m out."
"Wait! No, no! I’m serious! I just wanna repay you, yeah? For saving me! Come on, uh..." he snapped his fingers, trying to remember his name - only to realize he didn’t know it at all. "...Shoot. What’s your name, anyway?"
"It’s Calhoun." he grunted. "Now just get on outta here."
"No, no!" He protested, chasing after Calhoun. "I really do work for a nice agency, yeah?" He walked alongside him, much to Calhoun’s annoyance. "There’s a lotta jobs there you could be doing for a nice sum-"
"Hmph," he snerked. "Look, all right, I appreciate what you’re tryin’ to do, but you’re askin’ the wrong guy, here." Calhoun looked aside to him, his expression a bit weathered. "...Fighting’s just about all I’m good at."
"Yes! And that’s perfect! That’s exactly what I’m looking for!" He nodded affirmatively. "You see, my client’s a rising star, yeah? She’s in the business of... well... fighting's a part of it, yeah?" He raised a finger. "And recently, she requested that I find her a trainer, yanno? Do you see where I’m going with this?"
"...Ngh," Calhoun groaned. "I ain’t... much of a trainer." He looked forward. "...Self-taught."
"And that’s fine! Perfectly fine! Hell, maybe even better!" Pryce was lit up with all sorts of ideas. "What better way to teach my client than the natural way, yeah? There’s gotta be a better benefit from learning from someone who taught themselves how to fight like that!"
"Er... You’re gettin’ ahead of yourself, there." He looked aside. "Besides... I already got some obligations of my own."
"And if you take this job, you can get some hella dosh for that obligation! Or even better! I could offer you anything else!" Pryce clenched his fists excitedly. "Surely, there’s gotta be something you really want, yeah? Something that’d make you take this job? It can be anything!" Pryce held his fingers out, counting them off. "A new car, an exotic animal, an autographed item, maybe lunch with one of our celebrity clients-"
"...An alcohol license."
"...Wait." Pryce looked to him in confusion. "What?"
"Yeah." Calhoun looked up thoughtfully, a small smile growing on his face. "A license to sell alcohol... I reckon that’d do my boys some good."
"...Your boys?"
The smile faded. "Don’t worry about it."
"Well... If that’s all you want... Sure!" Pryce flashed a thumbs up. "I can make that happen, no sweat!"
"...I’ll think about it."
"GREAT! So your full name is...?"
"...Casey Calhoun," he muttered. He was skeptical of this man’s promise, but there didn’t seem to be any harm in just giving him his name... probably.
"ALL RIGHT, GOOD!" The manager damn near shouted, his excitement uncontainable. "Thank you!" He whirled around in the other direction. "You said this way, yeah?!"
"Yeah. Until the pizza place, where you go left. Can’t miss it."
"Got it!" He turned back and saluted. "Thanks again for saving my life! I’ll repay you for sure~!" He practically sang as he strode off.
Calhoun glanced back as the strange man trotted off. In spite of Pryce’s promises, he had a feeling that would be the last he’d ever see of him. "...Psh." He shook his head, walking off. "What a scam..."
Bill Pryce just had to insist on walking back to the hotel by himself. It wasn’t supposed to be far, only 20 minutes at best! And yet somehow, his walk spanned three hours. He had gotten lost in the city (as much as he didn’t want to admit it), and his "brilliant" shortcut lead him into a neighborhood that, frankly, looked like shit. Windows were boarded up, garbage littered the street, a puddle of oil pooled up in a giant pothole... Come to think of it, it was eerily reminiscent of one of the sets that Chiyoko battled on. A perfect scene for getting mugged, he had thought. The only difference? If he got attacked, there’d be no cute girl to save him...
And here he was, getting mugged, no cute girl to save him. He had to jinx himself like that, didn’t he...?
"Uh... look, pal..." The manager started, holding his hands up in meek surrender. He was staring down the sharp end of a large knife held by a rather... large man. "You, uh..." He glanced around quickly, hoping to find help. "You... sure did pick a good place for a muggin’, I’ll give you that...!" He looked back to him, smiling nervously. He could’ve easily turned tail and fled if he wanted to, but the question was just... whether or not he’d be willing to take that risk. Pryce simply wasn’t the athletic sort, and hoooo boy, the last thing he wanted to do was find out just how fast this man could stab him.
"Gimmie your shit."
"Haha! Hoo, man, I don’t... think you’d want... my... shit, yanno?" He laughed uneasily, inching back slowly. The thug growled, his knife creeping closer. "O-oh! Hey! That’s a... That’s pretty sharp knife there, yeah? Maybe don’t... point it so close to my face, eh tiger? I can’t, uh, really... reach for my stuff if you, ah, gouge my eyes out or something. Ha! Hahaha..." Why did he say that? Goddamnit, he wasn’t doing himself any favors. On one hand, he could give up his phone and wallet, but that’d be passing off some valuable, private information!
On the other hand, he could die.
And then this man would just loot his body and get his stuff anyway, so...
All right. Looks like he had no choice but to cooperate. "J-Just, uh..." He began to lower his arms slowly. "I’m getting my stuff, yeah? Okay?" He reassured shakily, frantically patting at his pockets, never breaking eye contact from the knife. "H-Haha, the funniest thing happened with my phone actually..." He stammered, pulling it out. "Seems like the damn thing, uh, trashed itself, so, ah..." His hand shook as he held it up, quickly adding, "B-But see? See? Doesn’t mean it’s worthless! You can still have it! Just don’t stab me for the love of god please," he pleaded under his breath. As the man reached for the device, Pryce’s eyes widened. He spotted a hand appear above the assailant’s shoulder, giving it a firm tap.
"...What?" The thug’s voice rasped, turning aside to glance back.
A fist hurled at his face, knocking him square in the jaw. The man staggered backwards, just barely keeping his balance. Pryce shrieked and immediately bolted, fleeing behind a public mailbox a safe distance away. He peeked out from the side, part terrified, part morbidly curious at what the fuck just happened.
"C’mon asshole," the newcomer growled, fists up in a ready stance. Like an enraged bull, the larger man charged at him, knife in hand. The size difference didn’t faze the newcomer at all. He shuffled aside, sidestepping the weapon. With a clear opening, he rammed a pointed elbow into the thug’s chest. From there, his arm snapped up into a backfist. It smashed into the crook’s face. The knife dropped to the ground with a clink, and the larger man stumbled backwards again, hunched over and clutching at his nose. He managed to lift his head, glaring.
"...Get on outta here." That was the newcomer’s blunt statement. "You look like already got the wind knocked outta ya... This fight ain’t lookin’ fair to you."
"Fuck... you..." he grunted.
"...Tch." He lowered his arms. "If that’s how you want it..." He muttered before lunging at the thug.
Pryce looked on as the smaller one continued his one sided onslaught. Should he have run? Yes, absolutely! But he was curious about this fighter. The guy was obviously no magical girl, but what were the chances of someone else coming along like that? He still couldn’t believe it. Was it a sign? Maybe it was a sign. The wheels turned in Pryce’s head...
"Ksh!" the newcomer grunted, punctuating a flurry of blows with a final heel kick to the gut. The criminal dropped to his knees, falling face first into the pavement. The other kept his stance for a few moments. Eventually he dropped his fists, relaxing. "...Hmph." He loomed over the body, experimentally nudging it with a foot.
"AMAZING!" Pryce blurted out, running up. "Can I just say that was the most impressi- oh, wait," he began, but quickly turned to the downed thug. "How do you like them apples, eh?!" He kicked the crook’s side. "Haha! Yeah! Not so tough now, are ya?! Don’t mess with the Pryce, baby!" Another kick. "Fools like you end up paying... the Pryce! HAH!"
"Dh..." The other man shook his head, his expression flat. "...Don’t do that. Just... don’t." Pryce stopped, looking to him. He glanced back down. He frowned, giving one last soft kick. The fighter ignored it.
"If you’re lost," he said, pointing down the road. "Just head all the way straight and turn left at the pizza place." He looked to Pryce. "That’ll take you back to the main road... and safer streets." He turned away to leave. "Don’t go doin’ anything else stupid now-"
The fighter felt his arm tighten as he was yanked back into place. He was face to face with the strange man in the obnoxious suit, who had grabbed his hand and began shaking it enthusiastically with all the gratitude in the world.
"Like I was saying, that was amazing! Let me tell you, buddy! I thought my goose was cooked, yeah?! Bill Pryce is the name, by the way," He beamed, still shaking. "But you smashed that guy into a fine paste! I’ve seen a lot of fights in my day, but nothing quite like that, yanno?!" His handshake intensified, though his savior’s arm was limp and his expression flat with mild annoyance. "I didn’t even know you could string together moves like that! Especially that front flip into... whatever you did to his neck! That was crazy! And this is great, you see, because I’ve a client in the business of fighting and- GH!" Pryce squeaked. The fighter had tightened his grip on the manager’s hand to get his attention.
"Look," he grunted, staring him in the eye. "I don’t know why you think we’re all buddy-buddy now. Just ‘cause I saved ya don’t mean anything." He frowned. "Didn’t you see what I just did? What makes ya think I can’t just do the same thing to you?"
Pryce stared for a moment. "Beeeeecause... you’re a nice guy who wouldn’t beat me up?" He smiled. The fighter just sighed.
"...Are ya really just that dense?" He released Pryce’s hand. "Is that how ya got into this mess to begin with? What, did this fella just tell you he could get you some big bucks and got you to follow him? Jesus, c’mon."
"What? No! I just got lost, honest!" Pryce waved a hand around. "...Which reminds me! Would you like to make some big bucks?"
"Okay, now you’re just fuckin’ with me," The fighter turned around to leave again. "I’m out."
"Wait! No, no! I’m serious! I just wanna repay you, yeah? For saving me! Come on, uh..." he snapped his fingers, trying to remember his name - only to realize he didn’t know it at all. "...Shoot. What’s your name, anyway?"
"It’s Calhoun." he grunted. "Now just get on outta here."
"No, no!" He protested, chasing after Calhoun. "I really do work for a nice agency, yeah?" He walked alongside him, much to Calhoun’s annoyance. "There’s a lotta jobs there you could be doing for a nice sum-"
"Hmph," he snerked. "Look, all right, I appreciate what you’re tryin’ to do, but you’re askin’ the wrong guy, here." Calhoun looked aside to him, his expression a bit weathered. "...Fighting’s just about all I’m good at."
"Yes! And that’s perfect! That’s exactly what I’m looking for!" He nodded affirmatively. "You see, my client’s a rising star, yeah? She’s in the business of... well... fighting's a part of it, yeah?" He raised a finger. "And recently, she requested that I find her a trainer, yanno? Do you see where I’m going with this?"
"...Ngh," Calhoun groaned. "I ain’t... much of a trainer." He looked forward. "...Self-taught."
"And that’s fine! Perfectly fine! Hell, maybe even better!" Pryce was lit up with all sorts of ideas. "What better way to teach my client than the natural way, yeah? There’s gotta be a better benefit from learning from someone who taught themselves how to fight like that!"
"Er... You’re gettin’ ahead of yourself, there." He looked aside. "Besides... I already got some obligations of my own."
"And if you take this job, you can get some hella dosh for that obligation! Or even better! I could offer you anything else!" Pryce clenched his fists excitedly. "Surely, there’s gotta be something you really want, yeah? Something that’d make you take this job? It can be anything!" Pryce held his fingers out, counting them off. "A new car, an exotic animal, an autographed item, maybe lunch with one of our celebrity clients-"
"...An alcohol license."
"...Wait." Pryce looked to him in confusion. "What?"
"Yeah." Calhoun looked up thoughtfully, a small smile growing on his face. "A license to sell alcohol... I reckon that’d do my boys some good."
"...Your boys?"
The smile faded. "Don’t worry about it."
"Well... If that’s all you want... Sure!" Pryce flashed a thumbs up. "I can make that happen, no sweat!"
"...I’ll think about it."
"GREAT! So your full name is...?"
"...Casey Calhoun," he muttered. He was skeptical of this man’s promise, but there didn’t seem to be any harm in just giving him his name... probably.
"ALL RIGHT, GOOD!" The manager damn near shouted, his excitement uncontainable. "Thank you!" He whirled around in the other direction. "You said this way, yeah?!"
"Yeah. Until the pizza place, where you go left. Can’t miss it."
"Got it!" He turned back and saluted. "Thanks again for saving my life! I’ll repay you for sure~!" He practically sang as he strode off.
Calhoun glanced back as the strange man trotted off. In spite of Pryce’s promises, he had a feeling that would be the last he’d ever see of him. "...Psh." He shook his head, walking off. "What a scam..."
