THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES [Starla]

[Enver Marshall II]

WEARING

Round Two.

Enver had barely survived Round One, but he did. It had been a close battle, not that he was going to admit that. How embarrassing to almost lose a fight to a fifteen year old girl. But, she was a worthy opponent and so Enver could silently respect that and leave it at that.

He had kicked Crash's ever loving *** after the first fight. Not because he almost lost, but because there had been no million dollars as Crash claimed there would be. And, on top of that, Enver was pretty confident that whatever was going on in this place-was illegal. Some sort of underground sex-fight club thing. He had seen two opponents that looked no older than fifteen or sixteen. No parent would let their daughters do this for shits and giggles.

So, Enver was here to see just what was going on. Get to the bottom of things. Winning would be nice, but if he could save some girls from some sort of shady backhanded deal, he would. Not that he ever imagined Grace to be in this scenario, but if she ever were, he hoped someone would stick their neck out for her. All these girls were someone's daughter, even if they were vampires.

This time, he came prepared. Prepared to do something. Save some girls, or win a fight. Either way, Enver had one of the guns he crafted himself, and a small sword-also made by himself. He was called into the ring, a roar of mixed responses; clapping, and laughing. Seemed some people came back from the time before. he raised his arms above his head, then flipped off a large group of guys laughing from in the stands, before bowing and grinning from ear to ear. No matter the scenario, someone's life was going to change tonight, that was for sure.

[Starla]

W E A R I N G

She was back again, back for another round. After the first fight, Starla had felt bittersweet about the experience. The brevity had made her feel like she was good at this, that maybe she had found a calling outside of her realm of comfort, away from the glow of television screens and the feel of a plastic controller in her hands, or a keyboard at her fingertips, and instead, with a blade in her hand and blood in her face. However, she had put a bullet in a young woman. A young woman intent on lopping off a limb of her own with that broad axe, but a young woman none the less. So young, she wouldn’t think of her as much more than a girl.

Starla was no old biddy herself, but she was at least old enough to walk into a bar and order herself a drink without paying someone for a fake i.d. first. She took a steadying breath and scrubbed the heel of her palm across her cheek before she moved to step into the arena, where her opponent for the evening stood waiting, clearly enjoying his time with the crowd. That was hardly to be unexpected, coming from the moderately famed actor types, even this one a name she knew herself, a sort of local superstar. She might test the man’s patience with a request for an autograph later, though she doubted he would return the sentiment. He didn’t seem the type to be into e-sports, so their circles were two very different worlds.

She stepped into the light and lifted her hand, soaking in the attention like a sponge, the white of her hoodie only slightly blinding in the harsh light as she lifted her arm up over her head. She was about as ready for this as she could be, though she felt like, tonight, she was far from ready enough. She took another breath, and turned her golden eyes on the man across from her, and gave him a dazzling smile.

“Well, Mr. Marshall, it looks like I am your dance partner for the evening.” Standing shy of five feet, she looked up to the man and gave him a wink. If anything, at least, she would prove a small target. That much was in her favor.

[Enver Marshall II]

When his opponent came into view after the name announcement, Enver squinted his eyes to try and get a better look at who and what was under the hood of the white sweatshirt. His grin had vanished and his visage took on a more serious tone. No denying that it was another female figure he was going to fight tonight, but he couldn't quite make out who she was, or her age. Mostly, the latter was his concern. When she stepped forward, Enver blinked and then his right hand met his face. And dragged downwards.

He didn't know her name, other than what the announcer said, 'Starla.' An alias probably, not that he cared. He stepped forward and offered his left hand, then said quietly, "Look. If you're not here of your own free will, blink once." She looked older, but not much older than the last one he fought. Where did these girls/young women come from?

[Storyteller]

==========AUTOMATED POST==========

Starla has initiated a battle against Enver Marshall II. Awaiting outcome.

[Starla]

Looking up at the man, she awkwardly took his hand with her own, being right handed herself. She never knew the man to be a lefty. She learned something new every day. She grinned, shaking hands with a man of fame, just before he asked her a question so wildly absurd, she hadn’t even thought for a moment that what he suggested might possibly be the case. Her, there, against her will. It was sort of sweet, on the one hand, that a man of his stature would care enough to ask after her, and on the other wildly infuriating that he would assume that she was some sort of victim. She’d never been the damsel in distress type. Not once in all of her life had she been the princess in the tower.

She was the hero.

She drew her brows and, with a long hiss, the steel of her blade whispered against the leather lining of its sheathed home, the steel shining like a white star in the light. She let her hand fall away from his and turned the weapon over in her grasp. “I don’t need a knight in shining armor tonight. Just a juggernaut to cut my teeth on for a while.” She offered him a smirk, and with a twist of the blade, flashed a flicker of light toward the man’s face as she drew her rifle from her hip, firing, and only managing to just miss as the man moved in an unexpected way, the bullets slamming into the wall at the far end of the arena.

You stalk your prey carefully, tracking them from the shadows. As your chance arises, you fire off a few rounds, but only graze your opponent before they duck for cover!

[Enver Marshall II]

The woman's words seemed to indicate she wasn't some young thing, but Enver couldn't be so sure. He took a step back with a nod, and then she was at it. Well, so much for giving a damn and being nice. She took aim at him and missed, the bullet going somewhere past him, before Enver grabbed for his gun and hastily shot back.

And he stood there mortified. He shot her right in the baby maker parts. Well, if she could make babies, that's where he shot her at. Not his intent. Enver tried to avoid any bits on the other gender, mostly because he was afraid of being slapped with a lawsuit of some description. Not that his lawyer couldn't get him off, but he had a reputation to hold up, especially now. Given he was on the verge of maybe losing Grace, at least if CPS had their way. He was under some serious scrutiny. Thankfully, he had no issues from the last fight. "Sorry, kid." Only because Enver could only see her as that. A kid. Even if she was eighteen or nineteen, she was still very much a kid to the guy who would be pushing 40 if he were still alive.

You attacked an enemy (Starla), and wounded them!

[Starla]

Backpedaling a step, she created some space between herself and the cover the man had taken, giving herself a second to think. When he reappeared almost immediately, she wasn’t ready herself, the burst from his weapon catching her beneath the belt. A bolt of pain shot through her and she fought the urge to double over and vomit. She clenched her fingers tightly around the hilt of her blade and lashed out at the man in anger, just barely grazing his cheek as he retreated, creating distance between them again. The tip of her blade caught flesh, but only enough to just taste blood, the wound to his face closing up before it had a chance to really sting.

Gritting her teeth, Starla stood again, and pushed past the pain in her legs, focusing just in time to catch the man’s weapon rising to train on her. She threw herself against the ground, rolling behind the makeshift cover that the arena obstacles provided, each of his rounds catching the barrier with sharp cracks, kicking up a cloud of dust all around her. She jumped to her feet when the sound faded from her ears and charged, lifting her blade.

As the man opposite her lifted his arm to defend himself, her blade caught his forearm, the edge catching bone with a ringing thud that deflected her blade down the length of his arm, her weapon finally getting a real taste of blood.

You slash at Enver Marshall II, and they raise their arm to defend themselves. Your sword slices deeply along the edge of their forearm.

[Enver Marshall II]

Enver remembered he needed to keep moving in these sorts of scenarios, especially when the sword she had sliced into his arm. Keep moving, Enver, he kept telling himself, while trying to avoid attacks and trying to attack the opponent back. He sized up her gun, which was pretty impressive and would have to ask her if it was custom or off the shelf when this was said and done. Until then—Enver hauled *** around the arena and managed to avoid being shot at for a second time.

Seems no matter how old the women were in this event, they were aggressive little hellfires and ready to make his life that. Hell. Enver let off a few rounds, but maybe was moving a little too quick and fast, because the woman managed to avoid the multiple bullets flying her way with relative ease. Good for her. He even applauded her from a distance for the swipe to his arm and the dexterity she seemed to possess. The crowd seemed less impressed, some waving a hand at the once upon a time actor in disgust.

You take aim at Starla and offload multiple rounds, but they are too quick. They slip into cover, causing you to miss every single shot.

[Storyteller]

=========AUTOMATED POST=========

The battle is over. Enver Marshall II's team are the victors!

[Odessa]

It was the same song and dance. The night was young, the crowd wild. The scream from one of the men at her side was nearly deafening, and her fingers curled as an animalistic urge to lash out swelled within her chest. With deliberation, the necromancer curled her fingers around the rail in front of her, using the bite of the rusted metal to center the dark power that was building within her veins.

“At least she dressed for the occasion,” she spoke, her words drowned out beneath the sudden roar from a group to her left. With a quick flick of her wrist, she silenced the man nearest her with a quick curse, before she leaned against the rail, her eyes locked on the pair below. Without bothering to pay her sire a second more of attention, she instead allowed her dark eyes to lock on her opponent, painted lips curving into a sinful smirk. He was gorgeous – for an old man. He had power in his every movement, and for a second, she knew that he was familiar. She knew him.

“Impossible.” There wasn’t a way in hell that her killer was fighting a star, but yet, as her gaze traveled over him, drinking him in from head to toe – she knew it was true. She didn’t know his name, and barely knew what he played in, outside of the one movie that had been in the background on of a client’s apartment. She had seen his face briefly, but seeing it again… well, it just made this entire ordeal more interesting. Lifting a hand, she brushed it through her hair and chuckled, the sound humorless as she cupped her hand around her mouth and shouted down to Starla.

“You’re going down, Barbie-Girl!”