Jim Kirk (
smartass_captain) wrote in
nexus_crossings2016-04-16 08:49 pm
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We're all gonna get in a fight! [EVENT: FITE NITE][Warning: Violence and Blood]
People have been disappearing in the Nexus.
Going missing from work, from their homes, from the Plaza.
Locals are staying in their homes, shutting their doors. Even the more shut-in of Nexus goers will be able to tell that something is amiss around here. The Plaza is strangely sparse as far as foot traffic; many of the shops downtown are closing early.
Word is spreading in the Industrial District of an anomaly in the anti-violence field. Easy money for betting in cage fighting. Less easy money but larger amounts for competing in said cage matches. One on one, matches with and without weapons. Rounds go until someone surrenders, is knocked out, or dies. Who would set up such a thing? It's becoming very popular and many a coin is being generated. Are so many people really signing up for this?
Some are. Others are captured and drugged, thrown into the ring against their will with the ultimatum: Fight and get free, or die.
What do you do?
Are you looking to bet your wages? Sign up for a chance at riches? Are you one of the unwilling laying in a dark room?
Or.
Are you going to stand for this if not?
((Please view this OOC post to chat with other players before you jump into a fight! All fights must be agreed upon by participants ahead of time for severity of injuries. Outcomes can be agreed upon or will be decided by a coinflip by myself. Please do not come into this expecting to clean sweep someone without sustaining injuries unless you and your fight partner have agreed ahead of time that would be hilarious. If there are questins, concerns, or complaints PM me. TL:DR Have fun and don't be a dick!))
Going missing from work, from their homes, from the Plaza.
Locals are staying in their homes, shutting their doors. Even the more shut-in of Nexus goers will be able to tell that something is amiss around here. The Plaza is strangely sparse as far as foot traffic; many of the shops downtown are closing early.
Word is spreading in the Industrial District of an anomaly in the anti-violence field. Easy money for betting in cage fighting. Less easy money but larger amounts for competing in said cage matches. One on one, matches with and without weapons. Rounds go until someone surrenders, is knocked out, or dies. Who would set up such a thing? It's becoming very popular and many a coin is being generated. Are so many people really signing up for this?
Some are. Others are captured and drugged, thrown into the ring against their will with the ultimatum: Fight and get free, or die.
What do you do?
Are you looking to bet your wages? Sign up for a chance at riches? Are you one of the unwilling laying in a dark room?
Or.
Are you going to stand for this if not?
((Please view this OOC post to chat with other players before you jump into a fight! All fights must be agreed upon by participants ahead of time for severity of injuries. Outcomes can be agreed upon or will be decided by a coinflip by myself. Please do not come into this expecting to clean sweep someone without sustaining injuries unless you and your fight partner have agreed ahead of time that would be hilarious. If there are questins, concerns, or complaints PM me. TL:DR Have fun and don't be a dick!))
PLACE YOUR BETS [Location: Arena main floor, industrial district]
Sounds like a night out!
Kidnapping is a lucrative trade!
She'd heard a rumor that folks were paying big for humans down in the Industrial District. When she'd gone to inquire the goblin manning the desk had grinned with his fangs and slammed a chunk of magnetite on the counter.
By Beldr's claws that's all Nekomata needed to see. Sneak into a few places, charm the humies into following her to the cells, and bada bing bada boom she's got enough Magnetite to be high for days and not have to eat for a week or more.
Place your bets! Place yo bets!
"This place kinda reminds me of the Combat Zone, but without a bunch of psychotic raiders runnin' the joint." He mused aloud to himself, as he took a seat where he can get a good look at the action and the fighters. He was still new, and he could use a bit of a hand in picking some fighters to bet on.
He started to make himself comfortable as he leaned into his seat to take in the action. “Don’t suppose anyone can fill me in on who these fighters are.” And Hancock doesn’t expect an answer from anyone for obvious reasons.
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Bears get involved in illegal things too!
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Re: Bears get involved in illegal things too!
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Re: PLACE YOUR BETS [Location: Arena main floor, industrial district]
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Haven City's best racer is in the building (Meet Erol)
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He'll think better with the scent of blood in the air, right?
He doesn't even know anything's wrong. Jim might have just been caught up in something urgent. Lost his phone along the way, perhaps. Why not stop to check the unsanctioned arena? It's the sort of place Jim might turn up. If he's honest, the spectacle also appeals to his homesick side. It's been a very long time since he got to visit the Imperial City Arena, and... well, it's nice to be back in the crowd.
After a while, though, the conjurer has to conclude that his boyfriend isn't anywhere in the crowd. Even if his familiar keeps whining uncertainly and sniffing the air. Thoroughly put out, Felix throws himself into an abandoned chair and places a hand on the spectral wolf's head to quiet it. Time to take a break and waste some money. Perhaps in a while he'll see if he can remember how to perform a clairvoyance spell...
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A lounge for the willing Winner and VIPs
Really, is there a question as to why he's here?
Still, the idea of betting on of fighters he doesn't know in fights with ever changing rules seems awfully tedious. How is one supposed to win any kind of money (or whatever it is you might be betting with) in a situation like that? The simple answer is that the house will always win and Red simply doesn't care for those odds.
Instead of betting or simply slinking through to talk to those placing bets, he decides the best idea is to set up a spot (with the blessings of the proprietors, of course) to have a word with all of the top moneymakers. A small lounge, set up at the end of the seating area for the best view of current matches, boasts liquors from all across the multiverse, an assortment of fine finger foods, and opulent, but comfortable, chairs and couches. Those who win fights after choosing to participate and those finding themselves on a lucky streak are welcome to join the man dressed in a stylish suit and hat for some lively conversation and drinks.
Are you lucky enough to be one of them?
No
completely supportive of this idea
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Tag Solo at the Lounge here, peoples and non-peoples ...
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I need to proof better. Sorries for the gibberish in my last tag. :/
Don't even worry about it! <3
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fluffly bear incoming
Such fluff! Such bear!
who is driving, bear is driving
Wow. I thought I was the only one who saw the Clerks cartoon.
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Nevermind the man in the blue coat snooping around
The problem is no one in the stands seems to know where the fighters are coming from. If they're not voluntary, someone working for the organizers must be bringing them in. They're from all over the multiverse and are being taken seemingly at random. But no one is asking about how or why up here - they're all just enjoying the show.
After refusing another drink, Hughes sighs heavily and shoots a quick update to Katsuya. There's nothing new to report, other than that he thinks he needs to find one of the organizers. The ridiculously beautiful women serving drinks have been very little help in that department and he's certain there's more even to them than meets the eye.
SIGN UP FOR SOME ULTRA VIOLENCE [Location: Any, either via recruiter npc or at the Arena]
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Snail sees the glimmer in her commander's eye. As clever as he usually is, he's still blinded by occasional surges of machismo. She raises an eyebrow when he lingers at the sign-ups. "Señor?"
Kaz doesn't seem to hear her. Instead, he tugs at his scarf, mind teetering precariously between prudence and pride.
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Sizing up the Competition....
The prize money she isn't interested in, but the chance to see the skills of the other denizens of the Nexus is too sweet to ignore. The eve of the next event has her approaching in full combat gear and signing the waivers and liability forms that put her life into her own hands. A maid in a very risque outfit leads her to a waiting room with several large televisions fastened to the walls and asks her to wait. She'll be called when it's her turn.
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A Fallen Spacegoat? What madness be this.
Otherwise? She's good to go.
But she's also a hell of a sight. She stands taller than damn near most of the more human-like fare around, and resembles a pale white demon in heavy plate armor, with a massive sword strapped to her back. Six runes are carved into the flat of the blade on both sides.
Admittedly, she's not behaving like a demon. Cheerful, friendly, and even outgoing. To the mystically inclined, she doesn't quite ping as a demon either. She's... something else. Dark and corrupted, even if she's not behaving as such.
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I'm Considering It ... [Enter Han Solo to the Fight Arena]
As the hand beings, the Captain tosses in his antes into the two appropriate pots. There’s a disinterested look in his eyes as they glance upon what’s going on at the table. One player, a Quarren that Han has seen here before, begins raking up the remaining chips in front of him and excuses himself from the table.
A man in a bespoke suit begins to casually approach the table. The only reason that Han even notices him from that distance is because of how much a person in a suit sticks out in a dive like this. How much? So much so that he can’t help but have his eye drawn to him, even as Han is trying to pay attention to the game. While Solo was distracted, two cards are slid across the table to him. Picking them up he sees that he’s been dealt the master of coins and the five of flasks.
The betting phase begins and Han is toying with a couple of chips that he’ll push into the game pot when it’s his turn. The man he noticed moments ago has approached the empty spot at the table, but rather than sit in it, he has begun moving the chair. It scrapes and squeaks across the bar floor.
The dealer, who is obligated to manage the game, speaks up at that point.
“Excuse me sir, we need you to put that chair back.”
The dealers voice doesn’t command authority, when he voices the objection. In fact, it sounds pretty meek. Such meekness might have to do with the fact that man in the suit looks huge. He’s tall and broad shouldered as well as visibly muscular underneath the layers of his clothes. The newcomer’s lips are set into a smile, but his brown eyes are hard.
Srrrrreeeeeeeeeeekkkkkkk is the sound the chair makes as it’s legs continue to grate against the floor.
“A thousand apologies, friends.” He says in a voice that reminds Han of cracked Bantha leather. The game has stopped and everyone’s eyes are on the stranger and his disruptive behavior. “I need the partial attention of Captain Solo for a couple of moments. I don’t expect it will take long.”
Were the Captain at the table anyone other than the practiced card player that he is, he would have no doubt emoted surprise on his features. He has no idea who this guy is and why he might be looking for him – he doesn’t even owe anybody any money right now.
Still, something tells Han a little smooth over would be welcomed by everyone at the sabacc table right now.
“You’re late, Mister …”
“Jareth.” The distractor says, his eyes still hard only now they’re aimed at Han.
“Jareth, right. Have the dealer throw my ante in for the next couple of hands and when Jareth and I are done having our little chat, I’ll be happy to fleece the money from anyone still left at the table.”
Several of the participants of the game shoot Han an annoyed look, but his words do cut the tension somewhat and the game resumes. The dealer collects Solo’s cards and the round continues as if he had folded.
Taking a swig of his beer, Han pushes his chair about a foot back from the table so that he can find out what this man wants. The guy looks like trouble, but Han doesn’t sense it from him. At this point, the Corellian is mostly curious to see what the man has to say. The burly human, whose hair is pulled back into a tight blond ponytail, settles his chair next to Solo.
Jareth offers a handshake to Han who cautiously accepts. The guy squeezes too hard with his massive hand and when he withdraws, Han’s own hand aches slightly.
“Alright, what’s this about?”
“I work for a group of wealthy and powerful people in the Nexus, Captain.” Jareth begins. “Your reputation has gotten their attention.”
Han folds his arms across his chest almost petulantly. Once again he feels as if he’s being evaluated based upon things people shouldn’t know about him and his future, but they do. He hates the feeling.
“Come now, Solo, you should be flattered that they care about you at all.”
“Save it.” Han says as his lips begin to set into a pursed line. “I’ve gotten all the influential people talk before and all these conversations tend to go about the same. Let’s get to the part where you tell me what your handlers want, big guy.”
The brown eyes of Jareth track on to Han’s hazel ones. They’re mean and angry; they look to threaten the cocky space captain, but Solo doesn’t show any fear to the man whose twice his size or remorse for the disrespect.
“My employers seek to organize a competition between the denizens of this place.” His lips curl into wider smile. “Fighting, specifically. They’re particularly entertained by the idea of you competing and they want you for a special match.”
“No.” Han says shaking his head. “Been there. Done that. Not interested.”
Jareth nods his head as if he was feigning regard for the answer, but Han can tell he’s not. This goon expected his initial pitch would yield a negative response.
“They thought you might feel that way.” Jareth opens up his jacket calmly. Han’s initial thought is that he’s reaching for a weapon and in a display of impressive hand speed, the Captain draws his blaster and has it trained right between the recruiter’s eyes.
The big guy simply laughs. “You live up to every expectation, don’t you?” Out of the jacket comes a piece of paper the size of a check. Han knows what that is. It’s a credit voucher. One he would likely be able to cash in at this very place along with his chips at the end of the evening. “Can we finish this discussion without the threat of violence?”
Han puts his blaster away. He’s interested in the promise of money, but annoyed that this man seems to know exactly what he’s going to do. Jareth surrenders the voucher to Han. The amount is for five thousand galactic standard credits.
“Should be enough a nice boost of income into your maintenance funds, shouldn’t it?” Jareth drawls. “That’s just your acceptance bonus. Fight. Win. And you’ll get more than you need to get your ship into the sky again.”
Solo spends a prolonged moment looking at the voucher. There’s theoretically a decision being made here, but it all seems so preordained. They knew exactly what they needed to do and say to draw him into their little game. It pisses him off because it’s working exactly the way it’s supposed to on him.
He folds the voucher in half and sticks it into the pocket of his vest wordlessly.
“Excellent.” The man in the suit’s smile widens, but somehow it almost looks like a sneer. “Your acceptance will make some influential people very pleased, Captain Solo.”
“Before you walk away, I want your assurance that your people aren’t going to be sticking me into a fight I can’t win. There’s some people where with … abilities that I can’t keep up with.” Han murmurs. “I know that you know who I’m going to fight.”
For the first time in the entire conversation, Jareth looks surprised. As if it was the first time that the Captain’s behavior deviated from the script of how this was supposed to play out.
“I’m not supposed to tell you.”
“If you don’t, I’ll tear the voucher up right now. Then you’ll have to go back and give your bosses the bad news.”
“You say that as if there weren’t other ways to get you into this fight.” The muscular human says, sitting up a little bit in the chair. “Frankly, you’re lucky that they think it’s going to be easier just bribe you.”
“I can be a real pain in the ass when I want to be. They must know that about me already.”
Jareth sighs and then, his lips twist into another amused sneer when decides he’s just going to tell the Smuggler what he’s in for. “You’ll be fighting James Kirk.”
Now it’s Han’s turn to look surprised. He had no idea what name to expect, but for some reason, it wasn’t that one. It’s … a fight he could win, but the other Captain is just as unpredictable as he is. Maybe even more so. He shakes his head. “You’ll never get him to agree to fight me.”
“Let us worry about that, Han.” Jareth is now standing and offering his hand for another shake. “Be here at this bar tomorrow night. I’ll send a messenger with all the details you’ll need and a contract for you to sign.”
Han shakes the other man’s hand once more. Only this time, he has that bad feeling he sometimes gets while doing it.
****
On the day of the event, Han Solo arrives to the arena. He’s early. His face expressionless.
The black boots that he has so many pairs of adorn his feet. Tan pants cover Han's legs, accented with a yellow repeating stripe adorn the side seam. His torso is covered by a black vest and no undershirt.
Where his chest and arms are exposed there is a smattering of peculiar twisted scars – like had gotten most of them while he was still growing and his adult physique had to form around them.
Per the instructions he received earlier, he surrenders his DL – 44 to the appropriate attendant and he swaggers of to the waiting room. The Corellian appears to have done whatever he needed to do mentally to prepare for this fight.
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Even if the two events are unrelated (and he doubts it - there's no such thing as coincidence, in his experience), surely there's no harm in seeing what sort of operation they're running here. And seeing as a simple audience member would have very limited access indeed...
When the next event rolls around, he arrives at the arena in dark, non-descript leather armor, the two swords at his belt clinking gently with every step he takes. He signs all the required forms and lets himself be led to the waiting area, where, not knowing how soon (or not) his name might be called, he settles in, giving every indication of being completely at ease.
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A calculated Effort
Where there were rumors there was sure to be a grain of truth somewhere, and where there was illegal and immoral activity there was bound to be Officer Suou to investigate. Of course, Hughes' information was always accurate, and this time was no different. He'd been able to find the place easily.
They'd given it a lot of thought, how they should approach. There's only so much intel they could gather from the outside, so Katsuya had agreed to sign himself up for the fight. Hughes would be his eyes and ears from the stand, and between the two of them, they could hopefully find out where the missing people were being kept.
Katsuya signs the paperwork willingly, checks his handgun with the attendant, and sits patiently in the waiting room until the attendant leaves. The moment she does Katsuya's off to snoop around a bit, and texting Hughes everything he finds along the way.
Looks like there's plenty of stairwells down further past the waiting room. Definitely worth investigating, mister Intelligence officer.
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*probably has no idea what he's getting into*
"This is where we sign up, right?" He asked in a bouncy tone that was pretty much the antithesis of most fighters. "I'm ready for my first match!"
A duel with a Death Knight!
Woohoo!
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Fired up and ready
She isn’t entirely convinced of that last – either that those running the fights are adept at judging their combatants, or that she can rely on their conscientiousness. Nonetheless, the armored Exo reports in on the day, eager to try her mettle against the competition. She scrutinizes the display screens while she waits, helm tucked under her arm. She’s half-listening as her Ghost reminds her that this isn’t the Crucible by any means. This arena is smaller, the objectives decidedly different. And the audience is present, like she’ll even notice them out there.
“
I’m still uneasy with the idea of… fighting for a crowd’s entertainment,
” the Ghost says quietly. “The Crucible is one thing, but that serves an important purpose…
”“So can this. It’s not about who’s watching, Ghost.” The current duel ends and Blaze takes the interval to check her helm. Optics recalibrated for local light balance, circuitry responsive, hardly a scratch on the outer casing. She’s more than ready. This is all just fun, after all.
So I guess I should tag this (Dia's writer is observant)
<3
Been looking forward to thiiiiiiiis
Likewise! time to start some trouble!
And why don't we make it double!
Prepare the (nearby) world for devastation!
To unite our peoples for entertainment!
Surrender now or- no, don't, it's more fun this way.
For we shall entertain on this day!
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AGAINST YOUR WILL [Location: any for capture]
One very angry rogue ends up in the basement...
Only this time, someone had the audacity to drug her tea while she was getting lunch.
It wasn't until she was struggling into a side alley not far from the cafe that she'd realized anything was wrong. And by then? It had been too late. She remembered cursing aloud and hitting the ground, but that's where everything got fuzzy.
Fucking drugs. She's going to kill whoever did this to her.
Upon waking and determining she's not in any immediate danger, Amelia does a quick check of her possessions. Hair pin? Check. Armor (and all of her other clothes)? Check. Phone, pouches, and weapons? Gone. Well. So much for an easy way out of here.
She tries to push herself to her feet slowly, only to end up back on the ground after a minute of struggling. With a curse, grips the bars of her cell and pulls herself upright instead. Yup. Someone is definitely dying for what they've done to her.
"Hey!" There's no one nearby as far as she can see, but she's going to start making noise until someone comes around. "Where the hell am I? What did you do to me? Get out here and face me, you coward!"
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Someone's had a bad night...
He hadn't had that much to drink. He'd been behaving as much as Jim Kirk ever behaves himself. He doesn't remember there being a fight, doesn't remember anyone coming up to him.
His head feels like it's going to split open. When Jim sits up there's a wave of nausea that rolls over him, making him hunch forward and take long, shuddering breaths. It's dark and he's no where he recognizes. Panic grips at him. Jim shuffles over to the bars and shakes them as hard as he can. Nothing.
No hum under his feet. He's not been captured by an enemy ship. That is slightly good news, but being in a cell with symptoms of being drugged never is.
"...Hey! Hey, you fucks! What the hell is going on?!"
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Oh, oh dear.
She's trapped in a cell of some kind, and her wrists are bound together with something she can't readily break. Her PINpoint isn't with her, though most of the rest of her equipment still is. Dia swore under her breath and sat back up, wincing at the throbbing headache that was starting to slowly subside.
Still. She didn't react with anger. Or lashing out. Patience, instead, was something she decided to go with. Oh, sure. She was absolutely livid, but the Exiled Sith decided, instead, to cross her legs, take a slow breath, close her eyes, and wait.
Whomever, or whatever had imprisoned her? Would reveal itself in time. Until then, she decided to merely wait it out.
And possibly catch them with the Force should they be foolish enough to show themselves to her line of sight.Dia valued her freedom, but information was always useful. Why had she been kidnapped? Who grabbed her, and how were they so utterly stupid in doing so?
((Dia's equipment status is deliberately left open and ambiguous, as her post on OOC states it's up to writer preference whether she has her lightsaber or not.))
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Deadgirl is not happy.
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Re: AGAINST YOUR WILL [Location: any for capture]
Daxter noticed Jak was checking out a place when the ottsel was knocked out and dragged away. The ottsel screamed "JAK!" before Jak's neck moved to the front and noticed the ottsel was missing. Jak growled, and followed the ottsel's track only to be stuck in his own mess.
When they woke up in a medium cell, Jak was pissed and that was putting it lightly, with Daxter near him. "DAX!"
Daxter blinked "Jak... what the hell happened?"
Jak frowned 'That's what i'm trying to figure out"
The hero found his hands bound with some specialty rope.
"What the hell you want with us?"
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OPERATION FUCK THIS NOISE [For rescuers looking to break this up]
aka Big Damn Hero Time
Instead, once he finds an empty bit of hallway, he pulls two potion vials from a pouch on his belt -stamina and magicka- and downs them, then quickly casts two spells: Invisibility to hide himself from sight and Muffle to deaden the sound of his footsteps.
That done, he starts carefully creeping down halls, peering around corners and the edges of doorways. All the while, he also listens: both for any sound that could be attributed to prisoners and for any indication that he's being pursued.
Resistance hero
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*enough* magicka gdi phone
Re: *enough* magicka gdi phone
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