1/23/2005

07:28 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (90% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 56 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 30.00 and falling, and the relative humidity is 84 percent. The dewpoint is 51 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius.)
It is currently 19:13 Pacific Time on Sun Jan 23 2005.

East Elson Commercial Sector and Waterfront
Motels, movie theaters with posters of scantily-clad women, and even a few posters of nudes, and bars are interspersed with stairways leading to dilapidated second stories or downwards into basements. Women saunter along the western streets of the district, around Third and Fourth Streets. In the area around Second, a profusion of graffiti markings of black knives or the words 'The Blades' are scattered along buildings and sidewalks. A little further eastwards beer cans are scattered around the entrance to one bar with, if one looks through the window, several pool tables in enthusiastic use for several hours a night and even occasionally during the day.
Obvious exits:
Harbor Park The Underground North West South

Not too much happening that seems out of the ordinary on a night like this. The prostitutes are strutting, the gangbangers still banging... Off in a dingy, dim-lit alleyway, a group of guys are gathered suspiciously around the entrance. Shouts of encouragement and jeering tell of their night's activities - betting on something. Quite bold of them, but then again, the police don't seem to bother them just yet.
Down the sidewalk goes Dillen. His backpack is slung over his shoulder and he walks with his head hanging down. even someone who might be bothered by his rage would see him and just wonder why. The guys grab his attention and he looks towards them.
It's hard to see just what they're doing through the throng. Some of the gangers look right back at Dillen, but the Get goes unbothered by them. They're all distracted with the going-ons of what's in the crowd, give or take eight or so tough guys in the immediate view. There is a brief lull in the activities, and then there's another roar of cheers and jeers as a thin but muscular youth flies out from between two gangers and lands with a crumple on the sidewalk with a groan of pain. Some seconds of heavy breathing after, the youth rises back up to his feet, wobbly but in tact. Wearing just a wife-beater and deep blue denim jeans, with a shake of his hair, Kenneth glares back at the crowd of gangers and wipes off a bloody corner of his lip.

As Dillen frowns at the sight, he moves in closer. His eyes stay on Kenneth for a bit. His pack is stashes somewhere safe and he pushes his way to get a good look.

Kenneth spits out some blood coming out from his mouth onto the concrete, having not seen his packmate. Encouragement from the gangers goad the philodox to lurch back towards the inner alley - towards an unseen assailant. Only when the Get is lured even closer that he can see the gathered form a relatively spacious (for the alley width) circle, a bloody ring. "C'mon Boy, let's see whatcha got left in ya," sneers a larger, older black thug, motioning the halfmoon further in. Kenneth spits again down to the ground, and with a heady Rage-filled roar attacks with a flurry of punches and kicks. His opponent clearly outmatches him in weight and strength.

Dillen takes in a bit of a breath and raises a brow. He tries to put himself in Kenneth's clear line of sight. He crosses his hands across his chest, still watching, not really sure as to what is happening or why Kenneth is fighting.

Kenneth swings, misses, dodges - all in all though where the philodox lacks in strength he makes up for with slightly better speed and flexibility. A punch from the halfmoon gets blocked, and the thug swings a balled fist right into Kenneth's stomach. Yet, somehow, he keeps moving and with a grab of his opponent's wrist, spins around, twists the arm behind him and kicks the bigger man down and away, flipping their positions. The 'fancy' move earns another cheer from the crowd. Here though, Kenneth looks up at the people and catches sight of Dillen. A flash of surprise and recognition crosses Ken's face, which distracts him long enough that he misses the lunge from his opponent. The two go down, rough and tumble, but with the halfmoon on his back. Two punches after and a choke hold, Kenneth stomps the ground twice and his opponent lets go. The halfmoon falls to his knees gasping for air - the fight is over. "Who's Next?" The victor decrees, sending out a challenging, cocky stare over his comrades.

When the fight goes bad, Dillen knows it was his fault. He takes a deep breath and steps back from the group, headed for his backpack. He stops for a moment and probably gets caught in the same thing that Kenneth did... He was just challenged to a fight. He turns back and steps forward. "I'm your huckleberry."

Kenneth coughs out a couple more times, looking up when Dillen answers the challenge. "Fuck," he mutters, but dares not interfere. Hauling himself up to his feet, he takes stock of his injuries. Nothing that couldn't be healed with a shift, but there's got to be some internal bleeding somewhere or another. The halfmoon steps back from the 'ring', eyes swung onto his packmate. The thug smirks, seeing Dillen's youth. "What's up with this? Who's lettin' the minors in, hunh?" he jokes with his gang, some of them laughing appropriately while others give Dillen the Hard Stare. "Yo Boy, if you fight here, you don't go home cryin' to yo' mama 'bout how you got your ass handed to you."

Dillen steps right up and into the other guys face. "What? You scared a kid can kick your ass? Then maybe you better go crying home to your momma." He looks towards Kenneth and then back to the big guy. "That... And I only go home to your momma."

A round of low 'ooooooohs' and whispers pass along the crowd. The thug looks none too pleased by this show of bravado from the younger boy. But even in the face of the Curse, he doesn't back down. Instead, the guy grabs Dillen by the leather biker jacket and shoves him back towards his homies. "Lose the collar an' jacket, cracka-jack. Y'might as well lose the pants too 'cause yo' ass about to get Whupped."

Kenneth leans against the brick side of one of the alleyways, and shakes his head. Seeking out the Get's eyes, there is a sort of wary silent warning he wishes to communicate. It's hard to do though, with the blood that runs down from some scrape in his hair into his eyes.

Dillen barely stumbles back. He pulls off his coat and tosses it at Kenneth. "Keep that for me." He then looks back to the guy. "Collar stays." As he raises his fists. "Or are you scared?" The look from Kenneth is noticed and Dillen just grins at the other. "Even give you first shot."

Kenneth catches the jacket, but doesn't hang onto it for long. He sets it off to one side -- in a pool of things including shoes, jackets and shirts. The philodox doesn't seem to be saying much, but a new round of bets starts up. Odds fall in favor of the big guy, for good reason. He's big, and he's got weight - maybe not all muscle, but enough of it for there to be a reason why. The invitation of the first shot is all he needs, as a hammer of a fist comes striking quickly towards the Get's head. Even at the last second though, when Dillen is forced to move some way or another to avoid or block the hit, the other fist screams out from the man's side for the gut.

Dillen does dodge and the fist hits him in the gut. He winces and comes back up, aiming for the other guys kidney to throw him off. He also throws a knee to the groin, hoping to connect there as well.

The bets increase in their volume, like a boxing match out in the mini, dingy invisible MGM of the alley. Now the reason comes clear why Kenneth's attacks seemed nearly impossible to penetrate the man's defenses. For his size, the thug's street experience is there. The punch from the Get connects, causing the thug to jump slightly with the impact but he twists with a Unf of dulled pain. The knee hits thigh not groin, and the freight train of a thug barrels down upon the Get. Huge, heavy arms wrap around the Get in a bear-hug and squeeze Hard. The man's thick, short-haired head comes slamming down in a headbutt towards the Get's forehead and nose-bridge.

Dillen is stunned as the other guy's head slaps into his nose. His eyes water and his nose begins to bleed and is probably broken. Dillen shakes his head and growls through his teeth, looking at the guy with a fire in his eyes. He kicks hard with his feet, right to the guy's groin if he can. Seemingly, the kid feels no pain. This can be a bad thing...

Blows land, but glance off without proper aiming. With a roar not unlike any usual Get battlecry, the Thug runs and bodily throws Dillen up hard against the brick side of the building not too far from Kenneth. Given the close proximity of the two, a heavy booted kick from the Get finally does manage to land on the inside of the thug's leg, close enough to the jewels to make him back off a pace, but only to swing back his fist for a downwards strike against the Get's head.

Kenneth backs off from the area, but not too many gangers pay attention to him. It's on the fight they're riveted. The philodox shakes his head again, catching something the others don't about his Get packmate.

The thrust into the wall causes Dillen to grunt as the impact goes through his body. He slumps down as his body takes more damage from bruising. The fist to his head just barely hits Dillen as he manages to dodge it some. He drops down, swinging out a leg to try and sweep the thugs legs off the ground and get him lower to be able to kick him from the side.

The sweeping kick doesn't throw his legs out, but hit hard enough that the thug's next strike is put off balance. The blow glances off Dillen's shoulder rather than face, creating but a second's opportunity for the Get to act.

Kenneth grits his teeth, wiping off the ooze of blood and pain from his injuries. "Take him down!" he shouts out with effort, but the philodox's cry is lost amongst the gathering's raucous calls.

Dillen comes around with a series of punches to the thugs face. His hands move fast, aiming for the nose with all his strength, the last one crunching against the thug if it connects. Could have been the thug's nose... Or Dillen's fingers.

Smack, smack, thud... Dillen's punches are certainly not minor attacks, and getting assaulted with such a flurry, the thug falls backward with the finishing blow. Whether the man's nose is broken now or not, he rolls away and stumbles back up to his feet. Turning around, the thug sends out a menacing glare to the crowd. "You little shit," he spits out like a wounded lion, wiping off the blood that is running down his nose.
Dillen gives his head a big shake, blood coming off in a shower. His nose is broken and maybe some ribs, he feels nothing. He's standing in a stance that smells of martial arts. He then jumps into the air and sends out a roundhouse kick to the thugs face as his fingers just kinda hang in the air.

Fancy moves earn little more than a cheer of admiration. "I don't /think/ so!" yells out the thug as his huge hands come up and catch the Get's kick in midair and swings him around. Like a shotput, the Get is swung around and released towards the crowd, which aptly parts ways save for one. A ganger is too slow and cries out as Dillen comes flying his way.

Dillen slaps full into the other guy, lucky to have someone that breaks his fall. He comes up from the collision, blood now pouring from a wound in his forehead where his head impacted the pavement. He wipes it away and shakes his head, blood blinding him. He trembles as he tries to keep something from happening, Kenneth would know the look at so close to a full moon. He takes a deep breath and then launches towards the thug, going like a linebacker and at the last moment trying to catch him across the throat with a clothesline.

"OH YEAH baby, Come on!" The thug sneers with a defensive bend. Soon as Dillen comes close enough and throws out the clotheslining arm, he ducks and hooks the Get around the chest. A sick Thud of the bodies against bodies colliding echo into the alley, accompanied with an 'Ooh! That had to hurt!' exclaim from the crowd. The fight turns quickly into a wrestling match between the two.

Dillen does his absolute best to use his body to wrap around the other guy and force him down. A flurry of fists and kicks and grappling ensues. Surely blood and sweat fly between the two men, beating hard as Dillen still cannot feel the pain, pushing it back.

"Dillen!" hisses Kenneth with a urgent tone, but it likely goes unheard. By now, the philodox's gaze has gone deadly serious as he feels the Rage in the air.

The fight intensifies, but the weight of the bigger man is more than what the Get can take. A few grappling moves later, the man has Dillen pinned up against the wall once more, this time with the Get's arm twisted behind. "Give it up!" he pushes hard and leans in close. "Or I'll break yer arm."

Dillen still tries to fight. He thrashes underneath the other's pin. "Lemme go." His whole body twitching and his breath hard.

Kenneth twitches his hand, teeth grit down. "Goddamnit," he curses lowly, shaking his head before he turns away quickly from the fight.

Dillen's thrash is met with a Supposedly painful harder twist that almost dislocates the shoulder with its force. "Give It Up, Boy," the thug growls again with a harder push. The crowd's noise decreases to a lull, as they await the decision of both fighters. Their eyes are riveted onto the Get, and the bigger thug. "Don't make me fuck you up even more."

"Fuck you!" Dillen screams out as he tries to wrench his own arm away from the thug. As he does so, it slips from his shoulder and the pain from all of his wounds completely overtakes his body, even though he wishes so badly to shift. Suddenly, his body goes limp in the thugs hands and slumps against the wall, a bloody mess.

The action of going slack is what the fighter apparently had sought, and once Dillen is on the ground he backs off. "Fuck man, you killed him," remarks one of the other gangers as they look down upon the Get. "Damn P, you worked a fuckin' minor." "He knew what was comin'!" snarls the thug, but clearly there's something off about the situation where he steps back from, instead going to the pot and gathering up his 'won' items and money. "I'm out," P snorts after, looking over the leather jacket. He leaves that item, tossing it towards the slumped galliard.

"He ain't dead." Heads turn. Kenneth makes his move forward, face still bloody and bruised. "Just stupid." The Shadow Lord stops at the head of the galliard and makes to check up on him. He stoops and hefts Dillen up against the wall. With a mild slapping of his hand, he attempts to wake up the galliard.

It takes a bit, but Dillen finally looks up at Kenneth. "Where tha fug is he?" He throws a half hearted punch to the air. "Aw fug." His face is bloodied, his arm hangs limp, fingers hanging off his hand. "Ken. Did i win?" He blinks the blood out of his eyes.

The crowd gradually moves off once Dillen slowly comes to now that the night's fights are over. Kenneth waits for a fair number of them are gone before he answers the Get. "You freakin' idiot," he snorts, standing up to grab the leather jacket that was tossed near the Get and offers it roughly over. "You lost, like you were supposed to. Now get up before someone comes by and decides to roll us or somethin'." Here the halfmoon spares a glance around the general area, where people are getting off of Sunday shifts and generally filtering into the red district of East Elson. "The hell were you doin' out here anyway?"

Dillen gives Kenneth a growl. "What the fug do you care? I'm not supposed to be able to trust you? SO why do you care about what happens ta me?" he grabs his coat, unable to hold it. "Fug." He looks around and tries to focus, "My back pack. All I have." he blinks past the blood.

"The hell I care - I care enough that if you fucked up and let the moon get to you, we'd be in so much shit... I don't even /want/ to know what They'd do to us," Kenneth grumbles, looking around for the Get's backpack. "Shit." The backpack is gone - no doubt stolen by someone in the crowd. "What'd you have in it?"

Dillen does his best to push off Kenneth. "All my shit. Everything I owned. All my clothes." He starts to walk out of the alley, still looking the mess that he does. "Can't trust... Lords."

Kenneth whips his head around as soon as he hears the issue of non trust. "Like the Fuck you can't trust us!" he snarls aloud, furious and fuming at the Get. "I didn't jump in 'cause if I did, we'd be Dead. Those guys don't take cheatin' lightly. Jesus Fuckin' Christ." The halfmoon storms off towards the entrance of the alley, and then stops with a jerk of his gaze around up and down the sidewalk. "Whatever... What. Ever. Let's just get up and get outta here and shift somewhere."

Dillen uses his wrist to wipe his face. "Brownstone. Jarred kicked me out. Said I was a wimp and couldn't trust a Lord." he then spits out a blood filled mouth. "Glad my money is in my pocket."

"Well Duh," Kenneth huffs out again, sparing a wince from something of his also broken inside. "We do dirty shit. Stuff that no self respectin' one of the Nation'd do. Everyone else hates us - you better play their game... more players on that team." Despite his appearance, the bruises on his face purpling, Kenneth presses on with a determined limp in the direction of Brownstone. "But as long as you an' I an' Lucas are stuck together, we're better off puttin' our desire to skin each other on hold."

Dillen is lucky that all of his wounds are above his waist. "I wanna trust you guys. I'm not fuggin weak." As he keeps walking along.

Kenneth presses on grimly, not replying to that statement at first. Once they cross a few blocks, he resumes the conversation from minutes earlier. "You're not weak... but you don't know when to quit." He stops when the intersection light remains red, watching the cars pass along the road. "You coulda been killed back there. If you didn't pass out. Why'd you use it? That gift."

Dillen sighs. "I had to know that I wasn't weak. Jarred says I am a whining baby. Had to prove something to myself." He grits his teeth, "I'm a get. get don't whine and complain. So I feel no pain." He keeps walking down the road.

"Fuck Jarred," Kenneth spits out, the words accompanied by a spitting of blood and saliva onto the sidewalk before the philodox starts crossing. "But he makes a good point. You're a pretty piss poor Get if you've gotta throw in with our lot." There's something really sardonic in the way Kenneth regards his tribe. "Get don't make excuses, or dodge hurt either. If you wanted to prove something to yourself, that's cool. But damn... you should've just taken the pain that guy was dishing out. Would've made you feel better. More... alive."

Dillen shrugs. "Yeah. But I would have gone down much sooner. I learned from what he did to me. Best way to learn, experience." The cops seeing these two would be a bad thing as they arrive at the brownstone. "Here we are. You comin in?"

Kenneth lifts his eyes up to the apartment complex, then drops his gaze back to the Get. "I dunno. Do you trust me enough to let me on your territory?" The Shadow Lord slips a corner of his lip up. "Or should I just haul my bloody ass through the slums?"

"Get the fuck in here." Dillen moves towards the door. "I need someone to open the damn door." He gives a bit of a grin, and it is true... He can't open the door with a broken hand and dislocated shoulder.

Kenneth sticks his tongue out and moves over to open up the door, leaning his weight against the door to open it instead of pushing with his arms. "You're lucky no one noticed or knew how to recognize it. S'why I-- didn't use it." The halfmoon waits for the Get to pass through before closing the door.

Dillen walks in and makes his way to the elevator. "But with it, I can do so much more." As he elbows a button and heads to the basement. He walks in and immediately shifts to glabro.

Kenneth doesn't shift - not until they're in the basement apartment. "And some time someone's gonna catch you doin' it, and no amount of that Gift's gonna save your head from a .45 slug. You Get are too bloodthirsty."

"Whatever. Gonna save your ass some day." Dillen just flops onto a futon. "Shit." He growls out. "Gonna be out for a while..."

Kenneth still hasn't shifted, but with a pained grunt he strips the now dirty and bloodspattered white tank off his body. His broken and bruised ribs show even better in decent light; not that that's necessarily a good thing. "Usin' your bathroom," he notes. "After that, I'll be outta here an' outta your hair."

Dillen nods. "S'all right." As he pulls off his shirt and relaxes back. "Bring me a towel, if you would." He reaches to hold his arm and try and crack it back into place.

Kenneth pauses as he finds out where the bathroom is. "Yes Master," he replies, doing his best Igor imitation before he enters in and shuts the door behind him. A long five or so minutes later, Kenneth re-emerges, the flushing sound of the toilet, wet hair, and generally looking no worse for wear. His shirt is still a bit bloody and dirty, though. He comes out towel-drying his hair, and afterwards tosses the towel towards the Get. "So I take it you aren't gonna be hangin' 'round the End?"

Dillen takes the towel and begins to wipe his face off. "Guess not. Pissed him off pretty much." he shakes his head. "Fuck it. Fuck it all." He shakes his head.

Kenneth combs his fingers through his hair. "Y'know as a halfmoon I gotta ask - what happened? And as a galliard, y'oughtta tell me. But if you don't wanna, it's cool." Looking down at his tennis shoes for a moment, he stoops and rubs at a dirt stain.

Dillen takes a deep breath, "I guess I took too much of a fatherly look at Jarred." He sighs. "I was asking some questions to him and he didn't like the way I asked them. I got a little more angry and he told me to get out. I don't feel bad towards him... Just... I dunno." He shakes his head.

Kenneth shrugs a shoulder, testing it out. "How you see him as a father, I'll never figure out. There's plenty I can't figure out. But then, there's just some things... I don't think I wanna know." The halfmoon sniffs once. "But look at you. Yer soundin' like a damn Child of Gaia." It isn't an insult so much as a statement of opinion - which could very well be interpreted as insult. "Like I said before. Everyone hates Shadow Lords, and we don't give 'em reason to think any different."

Dillen looks up to Kenneth. "My father beat me and burnt me with cigarettes. Jarred gave me a chance to do something for myself. The mural meant a lot to me. He gave me a chance to prove myself. I did. I proved I could do it." He curses under his breath. "And now he kicks me out."

"It's not that he gave you a chance to do it," Kenneth says, his voice even. "You offered something that benefitted him, and he paid you for it. And once you were no longer of any use to him, he tossed you. I don't mean t'piss in your cereal like that, but that's how I see it." Heading over to the door as promised, he puts a hand on the handle.

Dillen looks to Kenneth. "How can someone just... Toss a person away like that?" Dillen shakes his head. "I'm going to sleep. nevermind." He blows out a long breath. "Get better man. See ya later."

Kenneth releases a short sigh in answer. And without further comment, opens up the door and steps out.