Futuristic Cut Your Teeth

[Bang Bang]

CUT YOUR TEETH
A RP by Indigo and Bang Bang

Moira was still spitting out blood from last night's round. Her knuckles were still tender to the touch; They didn't allow weapons in the ring, save those melded to your body, so she'd had to set aside gun and blade in favor of her clumsy, all too human fists. Not like they hadn't done the job though. She'd seen her opponent after, receiving resus after resus. It was his tenth fight, one away from getting out of here.

He hadn't made it.

Whatever. Moira might only be on her third go at this place, might still have five more to go at best, but no fucking way was she ending up like that. Dying in here? She couldn't imagine a less appealing death. Even down there in the locker room, where she sat bandaging her sticky, bloodied knuckles, she could hear the din of the bar above. All sorts of trash gravitated here, as varying in size and colour as tropical birds of long lost rain-forests, though they all have one thing in common: too much blood on their hands. And now it seemed they had a taste for it. So here they came, paying to see more.

Tonguing the tooth coming loose on her lower jaw, knocked to wobbling last night, Moira squinted up at Pig, the man who owned her and her debt. He was the opposite of what his name implied in physical form, a puny, scrappy little slip of a man with a rat like face, but greedy enough eyes for his name. He paced before her now, trying to rile her up as if he were some kind of coach, not a prison master. She didn't want to listen to him, but she had to; she'd take whatever she could get here to survive. So she listened to his rabble, tried to let the knock off speech rouse some confidence in her stomach.

Maybe it worked, maybe it didn't. All she knew as she stepped out into the ring was that she felt she might vomit.

The pit was as close to a hellhole as was imaginable. Locked in all all sides by thick chicken-wire, topped by a bannister over which leered the Trap's patrons, the pit would be more akin to a cage, were it not for how far down it sunk. On the walls, high above where any contestant could do damage, enormous, glitching screens magnified and replicated her face. A dozens Morias glanced about, scowled, spat blood onto the asphalt. The crowd whooped and jeered and howled. She'd made something of a name for herself last night; beating a man's skull in had the habit of doing that. She didn't remember it though.

Why couldn't she remember it? She'd handed over a dozen people to fates she knew were worse than death, but that was the first real life she'd taken. And she couldn't even remember what the poor bastard looked like.

She really did feel like she was going to be sick.

 

[MalumMalice_]

Nathan was quite the opposite of bored. Fights were the only thing that got him riled up and excited enough to leave his little hole in the wall apartment anymore. People told him that they were shocked at his readiness to always be in the pit, which didn't surprise him. Most of the fighters that participated in this garbage were only after one thing, and that was freedom. Whether it be freedom from debt, or even ownership. Nathan had known a girl a couple of years back by the name of Hattie, who had fought for her freedom from a miserable life of prostitution. How she got into that mess in the first place was unknown to him and many others.

Long story short, Nathan hadn't always fought just for funsies. He had the opportunity to befriend this young cybernetically enhanced woman, and later even develop stronger feelings for the tiny girl. That in itself was a disgusting cliche that he tried so hard to stay away from, but he was powerless in comparison to the mental hold Hattie had on the man. She was everything to him, and he often protected her when her owners wouldn't. She had only had three fights left until her freedom was won, and Nathan had been cheering her on every step of the way, training her and helping her with strategic methods to use other opponents' size against them.

However, it wasn't in the ring where Hattie passed away like you'd think. That's not where this story is heading. Unfortunately, she owed an even bigger debt than Nathan had known about, and was murdered in cold blood because she was unable to return it. Ever since her death, Nathan fought for her. He was often asked why he didn't just give up, or retire that lowly lifestyle, and his response was always the same.

"I couldn't make myself stop even if I wanted to."

Now, as his opponent's face appeared all over the dingey screens up above him, the crowd screaming and going wild, he had the image of Hattie in his mind. Her girlish figure, with long blonde hair and blue eyes that made him weak in the knees. I'm doing this for you, sweetheart, he thought to himself as he stepped into the pit from the shadows, the fight announcer's voice blaring over the noise for Moira's introduction. He'd heard of this one before, but never had fought against her. This was truly unusual- even these monsters didn't put two vastly different opponents together. She had to have some kind of secret strength or weapon.

Nathan's own face appeared on the screen, replacing the girl's from before. The crowd seemed just as surprised as he was, but they seemed for it anyways. Those bastards would eat up any kind of nasty fight- all for entertainment purposes. He cracked his knuckles as the announcer yelled his name, gritting his teeth together to prepare for this fight.

 

[Bang Bang]

Moira could not help but groan. Fuck this; her opponent looked more beast than man, tall as two of her and built like a brick shithouse. Not only his build spoke of experienced fighting, but his skin and face too, gnarled by scraps and bludgeonings forever - unless, of course, he could afford the surgery to fix it. No one who could afford that kind of fancy bullshit would end up in a place like this though. 'Nathan' the announcer dubbed him.

Well, Nathan, she thought, let's see if your size makes you as good as this crowd seems to think you. She could hear them overhead, whistling and screaming 'crush her'. Moira had to admit, looking at him, she did feel awfully crushable. But she hadn't made herself what she was just to wilt like a flower in the sun, not now, not ever. She gritted her teeth. Dug her heels in. Shifted her hips. The soft clanking of her metal plates loosening and prepping was drowned out and swallowed by the simulated gun shot, announcing the beginning.

She vanished.

Okay, so she couldn't move faster than the speed of light and really turn invisible, but for someone unprepared, keeping track of her was nigh on impossible. She used the likely surprise of her speed to get round behind him, push off of the ground, aim a kick at the head. Then, using his skull as propulsion, she shot up and latched onto the edge of one of the screens, dangling from it out of his reach.

Adrenaline flooded her system. She remembered now what she had forgotten of yesterday; The rush, the thrill, the excitement. She didn't just want to survive. She wanted to destroy this man, who seemed so obviously dominant of her. Blood rising in her mouth, she spat it out again, this time at him. "All right there big boy?" She yelled over at him, the sound picked up by the mics and echoing about the pit. She liked this. She liked how her face was now shining back at her, illuminating her cheek with the pink of her hair. She liked how from up here, he looked like a petulant child.

Moira smirked. Fuck you, she thought, looking at him and all his muscular glory. She'd been pushed around by thugs like that her whole life, and hell, if she could take out that fury on him, she would. "You just gonna stand there?" She jeered, giving him the one fingered salute and pulling herself up. Clinging onto the gaps in the chickenwire, she was all ready to mock him further when a jolt ran through her body, sending her muscles into spasm. It was only when she hit the floor with a thunk that she realised the damn thing could be electrified.

Getting pitched against someone this huge? Getting shocked off of the cage?

It was with a sickening drop of the stomach that she realised what this likely meant: Someone wanted her dead.

 

[MalumMalice_]

Before Nathan could even decide on his first move or even make an assessment of the small figure before him, she disappeared from his line of sight. A moment later, there was a quick rush of pain that started in the base of his neck and darted straight to the top of his head. The crowd ooooo'd and winced as he was pushed back slightly from the weight of her body and the strength of his kick, but he managed to gain his balance without a second thought. This bitch is fast as hell, he thought to himself, pushing the loose pieces of hair that had fallen from the tight knot on his head out of his eyes.

He glanced up to where she'd climbed like a little monkey, moving swiftly and effortlessly from the large screens to the chicken wire cage walls. A spritz of blood and spit rained from her pretty little mouth, to which Nathan barely blinked at. "Come down here and fight like a-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, a soft buzz trailed from the bottom of the pit, and suddenly Moira landed on the floor with a thud at his feet. The crowd went silent this time, probably wondering what the hell had happened- the noise within the room was overwhelmingly loud, so most likely nobody had caught on to what was actually happening.

"Ah ah ah, little one," the announcer's voice was heard over the speakers, roaring the crowd back to life as a replay of her hitting the ground surrounded them on the screens, "no climbing allowed in this fight- the next one will be quite the doozy, so I suggest you stay out of the trees!" A loud cackle followed, and a moment later Nathan joined in on the laughter. He kneeled down close to the bottom of the pit where Moira lay, a sympathetic look spread over his face.

"Looks like you're not so hot after all, Monkey," he growled, reaching down toward the girl. With one hand, he wrapped his large fingers around her tiny neck, squeezing just enough for it to be painful. Nathan started to lift her up off of the ground, adding, "Those metal legs won't get you that far in this kind of fight."

The people in the audience once again went wild, slamming on tables and hooting and hollering as the large man held Moira up into the air like a trophy, cutting off the air circulation while in the meantime gaining everyone's favor. Without warning, he slung her around, releasing her neck from his grasp and watching in triumph as she crashed against the cage walls.

 

[Bang Bang]

Monkey. Monkey? Where the fuck did these assholes get off giving her pet names as if she were some little kid? Even as the giant seized her by the throat, she refused to go down, kicking and biting and scratching at his arms, face, eyes. As best as she could when oxygen deprivation was sending her vision into discord, she fixed the man throttling her with a look that read, quite cleanly, 'fuck you'. She reckoned the bastard had been paid off, probably wasn't even a real debt-fighter, instead some professional sent to get her out of the game. Why? She wasn't anything worth killing off.

Yet he released her. Released and threw her against the cage, her body crippling, but energy still there. As she lay there, aching, she knew she could get up. And for a moment she was about to. She had vengeance to reap on this asshole for calling her something so degrading. She'd climb the fucking walls and take the commentator by the throat and throw him into the pit for calling her fucking 'little one'. She could try all that, yes.

And then she'd die.

Staring at the dirt and blood beneath her, she felt tears prick her eyes, not at the pain of her wounds, but of her pride. What was worse, defeat, or dying in this hell hole like they wanted? She swallowed.

Moira did not get back up. Like a dog, she played dead.

The commentator counted down from ten as were the rules, and never once did she get back up. Another thousand credits would be added to her debt, but she'd live to repay them. What would they do next time, send a bigger giant, cripple her in the locker room before the games? She didn't know. All she was clinging to now was the hope that she'd been mistaken, and this was a system she could play. She had some kind of stupid faith that this fucking thing was fair.

The countdown hit its end; The crowd jeered, and celebrated their new hero. Nathan's sponsor was congratulated and brought out for the real hero's walk, whilst Moira was dragged off to the corner for a medic. She wasn't that bad, her neck black and blue, a rib or two broken but nothing piercing her lung. Pig was nowhere to be seen. She wondered if it was him who'd set her up.

As she sat slumped in the corner, it was Nathan, her executor, that she focused her stares at. She loathed him, as she had to, but at the back of her skull, beneath the pride, she remembered he hadn't killed her. Maybe it had been out of a desire to toy with his food, but it had afforded her the chance to live to tomorrow. Wincing as a medic injected the nanomedics into her chest cavity, she shot Nathan the middle finger once more, though this time with a grin. If they sent him again, she wouldn't mess about with wall climbing and neat tricks. She'd go straight for the throat.

Being a debt-fighter, she had no home to go back to - instead she was permitted to wander the club and wrack up more debt on hookers, booze, drugs. Most of the rest of Pig's catches were hooked one way or another, those who knew they didn't have long, those who'd lost faith in ever getting out. She hadn't cracked yet. Tonight, however, once she was free of the medics, she headed straight to the bar. Behind her, the roar of the next fight had kicked up already. Theirs had been so brief, a blip in the system, nothing more. Maybe she really was worth nothing more than 'little one'.

Elbowing her way between two skinheads with modtattoos that roved about their skin, dragons snapping their jaws at ear, neck, cheek, she ordered a double shot of tequila and exhaled. The skinheads look set to talk to her, maybe jeer or try pick her up, she didn't know, and never would find out. Before they could get a word in sideways, something behind them caught their attention. They exchanged glances, vanished.

A ginger - dyed judging by the roots - in a blue cap took their place. The stranger paid Moira no mind, signaling for a drink with no words - a regular than - whilst fucking with a lighter, cigarette dangling already set between their lips. As the flame burst up and the butt blazed aglow, they glanced up at Moira. The smile she received was a little too personal, though it felt far from flirtatious. Either way, it creeped her out, so she kept her eyes trained straight forward and focused on downing her drink without choking.

 

[MalumMalice_]

Damn, she had given up that easily? Nathan knew he was strong, but he didn't realize he had been fighting a child. As the countdown started, he wiped the other girl's blood from his face, attempting to block out the roaring of the crowd around the pit. His sponsor, Gollerick, came out to shake hands with the ringmaster, his face gleaming as he waved and blew kisses to the crowd. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Moira's body was dragged away by medics. She was definitely still alive- Nathan soon realized that after she shot him a playful, yet silent "fuck you" from the corner where she was being shot up with painkillers.

He didn't bother to give her a response, only shook his head and made his way out of the ring and into the locker rooms. When the cheering of the crowd had finally become muffled into a chaotic silence, Nathan sighed and sat down on one of the cool metal benches. Soon, Gollerick would be joining him to make sure he got his half of the winnings. That's how it worked- his sponsor set him up with fights and other odd tasks, and in return, he received the other half of whatever his client earned. Without him, Nathan knew he'd never have been able to get back into the pit after the accident several years ago.

As if on cue, the much smaller, lankier man entered into the room with an envelope in between his bony fingers, tapping on his chin. "That seemed to be an easy brawl out there, aye?" he mused thoughtfully, his accent thick with Euro sludge. He strolled before Nathan, who was busy unwrapping bandages from his knuckles, completely uninterested in anything his sponsor was saying. He had won the match, he wanted his money, and that was that. "Don't you think?" Gollerick re-emphasized, getting closer.

When Nathan looked up, the other man's face was inches away from his own. "You set it up that way, didn't you?" he spat, rolling his eyes, "what, did her own grimy sponsor convince you to set up this fight, because he knew I could kill her in an instant?" He laughed, but he was anything but amused. Dirty rat.

Gollerick's thin lips curled up into a smile, and he clicked his tongue in a scolding manner. "I think that secrets are secrets for a reason, Mock."

Nathan stood, towering over his sponsor by a foot easily. He snatched the thick envelope away from the other man's grasp, and pushed past him without another word. He should have known that there was some sort of setup- never in a million years would the actual ring masters themselves set up a match quite like the one he had just played in. They were slimy and horrible, but they weren't downright unfair.

As he re-entered the Rat Trap, he spotted his earlier opponent at the bar seeming to struggle with her double shots. For a moment, he wondered whether or not it would be too intrusive to bother her after almost killing her, but then again Nathan wasn't really one to care about other's feelings in that sense. He focused his eyes on the back of her head as he made his way to the empty barstool next to her. The large man looked rather ridiculous as he slid into the tiny seat, but the bartender wasted no time directing his attention toward him.

Nathan quickly ordered two doubles of the dark tequila, downing one of them the moment it was slid over the counter. "Here, princess," he murmured, pushing the other toward Moira, staring straight ahead, "you'll need it."

Before she could respond, Nathan took the envelope from his back pocket and slapped it down in front of her, shaking his head. "This belongs to you."

 

[Bang Bang]

How shameful was it that Moira still choked on her booze, after all these years? She was a grown ass woman now, nearing her thirties, and they probably watered this shit down with piss. Still, it burned her throat, sending her eyes all to water so that she almost didn't recognise the man who slid in to her left. She didn't need to see his face though; his enormous bulk was enough. "You," she meant to growl, but it came out as a gasp on her fire-stricken tongue.

She wasn't one to refuse free drinks though, especially not when they felt like a challenge. "I'm not 'princess'," she told him, taking the shot glass in her hand. "Not 'little one', and definitely not fucking 'monkey'. Anywhere outside of that fucking pit? I'd have you dead on the ground in seconds. Fucking unfair these no weapons rules. Not all of us were born descendants of Goliath." Brooding and bitter, she eyed the glass suspiciously - one last attempt to finish her off? - before deciding she didn't care enough to resist.

Though her eyes stung with the effort, she managed to down it and to swallow the spluttered wracking her chest. Once again, it took her a while to see again. When her eyes at last cleared, the biggest offence presented itself. "What is this?" She asked, leaning over and touching the corner of the envelope with two cautious fingertips. "A love letter?" She pried open the slit, caught sight of the cyan-silver holo sheen of the credits, swore. "Fuck off. And fuck you." She scooted the envelope back over to him. "You won that fucking match, rigged as it fucking felt. I don't need pity money. Not from someone like you." She eyed him with all the suspicion of earlier. "You're no debt-fighter, right? What you in this for then? Blood? Money? Or is this the only way you can get it up anymore, if you catch my meaning?"

She was all sneers and ready to undo him verbally when someone to her right cleared their throat. She glanced over to find it emanating from the capped ginger, their sublimely tranquil face plastered with that same too-personal, disingenuous smile. "Sorry to interrupt, fighters. Saw the match. Couldn't help thinking the both of you were rather wasting your talents."
"That's fucking lovely of you and all," Moira shot back. "But some of us don't have a choice."

The stranger's eyes slid from her to Nathan, looking him up and down. "Everyone has a choice. Nowadays, we rarely make the right one, but... Let's just say, if you'd like to get out of here and do something a little more productive? I can have that arranged for you." They slipped from some hidey-hole of their interior jacket not an envelope, but a thin slip of a holopad. "This should have everything you need, along with the names of the two others I'd like you to recruit. All of you sign your names where requested, and we'll come to fetch you. The Lords won't be a problem. Sorry I can't really tell you anything else about it but you know how things are nowadays. Can't trust anyone, let alone your own thoughts."

Sliding the holopad across the bartop, shooting the bartender a wink, the stranger flashed that unnerving smile again. "I confess, I didn't come here for either of you, but your match, short as it was, was... interesting. Everything you said just now even more interesting. So give my offer some consideration, yes?" Standing, they went around to come up behind Nathan, placing a hand upon his shoulder. Though infinitely slighter than him, they showed no sign of flinching or fear. The hand resting on his shoulder was sea-blue - cybernetic and stronger than any flesh. "There are better places to look for revenge than in among the ignorant rabble. Or so I've been told."

 

[MalumMalice_]

Nathan rolled his eyes at her immature words, really having to convince himself that she probably wasn't completely useless. He could understand why she was angry, most likely all the time- he could understand out of all people. Moira might not be in the same boat as he, but everyone had their demons, and everyone had their self-loathing secrets. There was no doubt about it that this small girl harboured an immense amount of pain and suffering, but Nathan wasn't a psychologist and he didn't have the patience to let people talk so much shit to his face. So much for helping her.

He gripped the small shot glass between his palm as she sneered and continued to mouth off. The only silence that escaped her lips was when she took the second drink, but of course they fired up again almost immediately after. A love letter? Really? Did he seem like the kind of guy to hit on pretty girls- he meant that very, very lightly considering Moira looked a bit rough- in a bar? Jesus, this little twerp seemed like she'd never shut up. He seemed to regret not killing her instantly in that ring, because her little spit fire voice was starting to give him a headache worse than the last time he was knocked out cold.

However, being the gentleman that he was, he waited until what seemed like she was finished to utter, "I'm no debt-fighter- I'm not stupid enough to fall into the pit by mistake, ma'am." Although, he might just be stupid enough to fall in willingly. He couldn't really get a word in- before another jeer could leave his mouth, a silly looking ginger with fake roots sauntered over, pretending to be friendly and acting as though they'd known each other for years. What were they babbling on about now? Some kind of "way out"? Nathan guffawed, knowing damn well he didn't need a way out. He did this shit for fun and had his own reasoning. He didn't belong to anyone, and could quit whenever he felt like it.

There was a part of him that wouldn't have been able to admit just how wrong his own self-assessment was, though. Now that he was thinking about it...could he quit, even if he really wanted to? Would he be able to never return to this horrid, disgusting fighting tavern where he received all the alcohol and women he wanted? On another note, there still wasn't even a hint of satisfaction. He hadn't quite avenged Hattie yet, and he was doubtful of his ability to just walk out on Gollerick as well. That man held his deepest secrets at his fingertips- secrets dirty enough to have Nathan executed.

As this new stranger finished his little spiel, Nathan reached his hand out to snatch away the holopad before Moira could get her tiny paws on it. He eyed it suspiciously, only tearing his gaze away from the other two names written below theirs when he felt a hand over his shoulder. His eyes meandered from the holopad to their cybernetic modification, his brows furrowed. How would this person even know who he was, let alone anything about his revenge scheme? Nathan jerked his shoulder away, shaking his head.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm not so sure it's even possible," he muttered, ordering another drink from the bartender, to which he quickly downed. Before he could turn around to say anything else, the ginger had disappeared. Nathan glanced down at Moira, a confused look plastered over his face. "Whaddya think, monkey?" he mused, tossing her the holopad, "care to take a ride on the wild side?"

 

[Bang Bang]

"What do I think? I think that jerk's smoked something too strong for their blood. But I do like that they can make you finally drop that self-confident prick look for a second. Why'd you look so shook? And what the fuck did they mean about revenge?" Moira rambled, the alcohol making her words faster, slicker, slurred. But, she'd seen what she'd seen. "Don't trust is it what I'd do. I mean who the hell-"
"Why were you talking to Boy?" A new, unwelcome voice perked up from the space the stranger had vacated. Moira groaned. No. She really couldn't stand this chick, not right now, not after she'd had such a shit night.

Lana leaned onto the bar, smiling at the bartender but refusing a drink. "What do you want, Princess?" Moira muttered, looking into the bottom of her shot glass for an escape. Lana laughed - she insisted on finding the nickname funny rather than patronizing - and glanced over at Nathan. Her eyes did that creepy thing where they glazed over all blue as her circuitry ran the records for details, and then after a moment's blank star, she grinned. "Nathan, one of the best fighters here. Just beat Moira- oh. Oh I'm sorry Moira. Tough match. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself." Shaking her head, she offered her hand to the giant man sat with them. "I'm Lana Nova. Just another debt-fighter, I'm afraid. But Moi, why on earth were you talking to Boy? I thought you and your Merc days were over? You had your license revoked after all."

Burying her head in her arms on the bar, Moira groaned. Why was this happening? She might run her mouth off, but no one could spill secrets or even just awkward information like this woman. Little Miss Pampered Princess stood there just smiling innocently. Probably didn't even realize why Moira wanted to die. This Nathan dude was the last person she wanted knowing anything about her. But then- "Wait- Boy?" She asked, sitting up and looking over at where the stranger had been. They'd vanished when Nathan had asked her the question, like some kind of enigmatic magician arsehole. Fucking bastard. "As in, Boy's Syndicate Boy?"
"Yes. You didn't recognize them? I thought you'd worked with-"
"Worked for, Lana. Not like I met them in person."

Running her hands back through her hair, Moira swore, then looked to Nathan. "Fuck. Now I feel stupid. Who else is on that list. Why the hell would- uh. Not like I can ask now. Fuck."
"List?" Lana chimed in, perching atop the vacated bar stool and blinking over at them.

 

[MalumMalice_]

Nathan raised an eyebrow at the new voice, ignoring Moira's snide little comments once more. The poor thing obviously couldn't handle her alcohol very well. This new voice was different- more friendly and girly- and he didn't have to even turn around to know she was probably a pretty little thing. Oh, how he loved when his presumptions were correct. He almost didn't bother even acknowledging this new presence until she slid a little too close for comfort. Nathan finally glanced up, feeling a little irked by the way this "Lana" was analyzing him so quickly and personally.

"Yeeeeah," he murmured once she actually introduced herself- and him, without him even having to say a word-, "It's nice to meet you, I guess." He grit his teeth slightly, and glanced down at the holopad once more as the two girls talked back and forth. Her name seemed extremely familiar, and that's when he realized. Lana's name was also on that little pad, and she probably didn't even know. Moira seemed to be too humiliated to realize, either- she was too busy looking terrifyingly close to ripping this girl's throat out.

Nathan decided to tune into their conversation, and listening in he heard Lana talk about Boy's Syndicate. He was only slightly familiar with that group in particular, and he had always heard that they were nothing but trouble. Was that who was trying to recruit them? A revolutionary? For what purpose? Nathan wasn't one to stick his nose into other people's business, especially when that business included overthrowing the wealthier, more powerful government. He wasn't even sure if he believed in their cause- it seemed too impossible, and too dangerous to even attempt.

"She's on the list, Moira," was all he said as he interrupted the two, slightly aggravated by her slurred rambling. He was suddenly regretting buying her that drink.