Fight fire with fire

[hellfire_andfury]

If anyone is passing by the Plaza area of the Nexus they will immediately spot a rather tall and strong looking man currently bent down filling empty vodka bottles with an almost clear liquid. It has a strong fuel-like smell to it and it's carefully being syphoned into the home made bottles with a precision and practiced hand. Beside the man there is also a bag of long string wicks and a lighter emblazoned with flames and a bike logo on it. The man was a punk since he was wearing black leathers right up to his sturdy boots which had metal studs down the sides.

He was making fire bombs for back home in his world. Stocking up for the next tirade he and the band would go on once he got back to the hotel. Yet, once he had finished making the molotov cocktails, three to be precise, he secured the tops on then stuffed them into the insides of his jacket. Sitting down on the nearby bench he began stuffing the excess materials into his bag whilst wondering who passed this part of the Nexus. Being relatively new still, Viktor was still finding his way around. He'd been to a few of the drinking establishments one being the Viper's Pit and had liked what he saw so far. Still, he was out to get smashed tonight and light up the town, not literally, since he'd read about the stupid anti-violence field. What the hell even was that? Still, he could chaos in some form or another punk style.

Fire was his main passion being a pyromaniac and lead singer for the band the Hell's Angels. Cast out by his family, Viktor was often viewed as nothing more than a delinquent punk. Pushing back his long dirty blond hair he clicked his neck and knew he was well away from his family now and wanted to move on in his life now that he had his band and his new boyfriend, Vars. The whole thing with his old man being banged up for ten years in a UK prison really had him wound up about law enforcement. He hated cops. It was a good job he hadn't seen any cops around this place so far otherwise things would go down big time.

Thinking of something to say, he finally spoke up;

"Earth, Wind, Water----I love fire. Always have done. Making it, eating it, throwing it. Sod the rest. Anyone else love fire here?"

Comments

[born_in_flame]

Caleb was walking by and did a double take at the mention of fire. He is better with his past than he was..but still he cannot help but wince slightly. He turns to the man, a tall handsome red head with his hair pulled back. He has a book in one hand and is considering the question.

"I wouldn't say I love it," he admitted, "I do not hate it and it has been useful in the past...but love no."

[hellfire_andfury]

"Useful? So, you have used it then? I fucking love it, mate. This is what I worship. Fuck gods. Fire is more useful and it's something to respect."

Viktor felt like breathing fire in the Plaza just to show off and practice his skill to these Nexus residents. He pulled out a bottle filled with fuel and uncorked the lid, dipping a rope wick inside, making sure it was coated with the fuel.

"Ever seen a fire breather before?"

[born_in_flame]

"Ja I have...many times," Caleb says carefully, "fire is...my element if that makes sense."

He smiles a little at the question. "I have seen fire eaters before yes....my homeland has festivals that feature them."

[iamnomartyr]

Gannicus vaguely recognizes the smell in the air. It is more pungent but similar enough to the Greek oil he'd seen used on catapults. The question stops him to look at the oddly dressed man. Gannicus is dressed in random wrapped leathers and has at least two swords, strapped to his back, visible. Broader in the shoulders and more muscular, he's near Viktor's height and looking a little dirty since he had been working and hunting most of the morning. His braids though look newly redone.

"You make Greek fire?" He questions with a thick, old sounding British accent. Gannicus is a Celt and the tattoo on his shoulder, the Aegishjalmur, is something Viktor might recognize from Vars' collection of religious paraphernalia. A Norse symbol that imbues the wearer with power and dominance while instilling fear in the enemies. Whether or not he recognizes the tattoo, the necklace he wears Viktor will certainly recognize since it is nearly identical to one of the Norse dragon bracelets Vars never takes off.

"Prefer sword to fire." He comments after looking over the strange garb of the man talking to him.

[hellfire_andfury]

This guy looked like some sort of Roman warrior or something out of an old film. Yet, the guy was very real and his weapons looked very real too. A real life Roman bloke? Fuck. This was awesome. Viktor snorted at the man's question, not put off by his stature or his weapons. His accent though. That was different.

"This isn't Greek fire, mate. It's British fire. I make it myself."

Viktor looked at the guy in more detail and noticed the tattoo and the necklace. Wasn't that something Vars wore? Nordic? The punk narrowed his eyes and pulled out a bottle containing clear fuel. This was for his fire bombs.

"Are you Greek or Roman then? Your outfit looks it."

[iamnomartyr]

"A Briton?" Gannicus sat down wherever was nearby and convenient. "You are from the islands across water from the lands that once belonged to my people but I did not know they made fire like the people of my woman."

Gannicus stares right back at Viktor while the blonde appraises him. He's used to being looked over after so long as a slave. "Romans claim me when I was in the arena." He can only laugh about that absurdity now that he was a rebel. "I am no Roman shit. I'm the mad fucking Celt."