Evening Rush (OPEN)

Reina laughed heartily, one of the few genuine laughs she’s let out in a long while. She took a moment to compose herself, knowing that her laugh was actually quite loud and, always had been, when she’d really laughed, and didn’t simply mimic what a laugh sounded like so others could feel more comfortable with her around. But after a moment her laugh turned into chuckles, then tiny snickers before she slapped the her hand on the bar hard, causing a few patrons to jump at the noise.

“Yer’ah keepah, Chromey-Homie, ah like’ya. Somethin’ strong that’ll put hair on’mah chest, savvy?” Reina gave up a small wink to the bartender. “Ta’night, ah’m celebratin’.”

It seemed like it had been an eternity since she’d had a decent fight and it was something she was trying to rectify. She’d spent more than a few days looking for even a nibble of a hint that could lead her in the right direction, but as it stood her name carried weight, even this farm from Suraja. But rules were rules after all, and Reina still had to be vetted like anyone else would. It was how the underground fight scene survived, and the rules bent for no one. So, she needed to meet with a contact. Great, whatever. She’d talk all they wanted. All Reina wanted to do was scratch that itch that only her fights could scratch, and that itch was getting worse every day.

“Reina DeLioncourte?” the smooth voice from beside Reina asked. The dark skinned woman turned, not remembering or hearing anyone come sit beside her. “Church. I’m here to talk to you about the exciting job opportunity you’ve been looking for. The man named Church took the glass that was in front of him and took a sip before winking at Reina. “Nothing but water for me. Tell me…how did you earn the nickname ‘Snow Black’? Is it because of your skin color? I never understood.”

Reina eyed the man up and down, her mindscape piecing together many possibilities at once before the facts lit up like celebratory lights that people sometimes hung on the outside of their houses. Within moments after Church had stopped talking Reina could only let out one of those bemused chuckles, the ones you let out because the situation is so ludicrous that it entered the realm of humor. Church was tall, reaching seven foot but was lanky with little definition. Indeed if it wasn’t for the fact that he was so tall he might have seemed like anyone else on the streets, unremarkable in any way. The glasses he wore on top of his long, hawk like nose were unusual; one lens was round and one square, the framing seeming a little off but it balanced perfectly.

“Yer not’a fightah,” Reina stated, her eyebrow raising. “Thought’ah was gonna meet’ah fightah, a mate who’could tell me da ins’n’outs. Wass’yer business?”

“A middle man, my dear,” Church gave a small shrug. “You see, they say all you need to get in is an invitation. It’s a tactic, and a clever one at that. Most that come are cannon fodder, just punching bags that can take hits but never win. But those that go in with a sponsor...well. That’s how all franchise fighters start. And that’s where my employer comes in.” He leans in, getting just a bit too close for Reina’s liking but she made no move to tell him that. “Your fights are incredible, Reina. I’ve seen them, personally. Being scrap for the wolves isn’t something I foresee in your future.”

The dark skinned thief took a moment to think, ignoring the presence of Church or anyone else. Life had seemed a bit tenser since she’d arrived in Dagos, and Reina could only think it was because of her lack of a place to really let it all go. She remembered the advice Sasha gave her about traveling to other places and adapting to the customs of said place. ‘When in Suraja, do as the Surajians do,’ or some such thing. It made sense to her, and despite her displeasure at having to have a ‘middle man’ in her life, she was in Dagos, and she would do as they did. If anything else, she could learn more about how things were done so eventually she could do it herself.

“Aight Church,” Reina sniffed, looking at her empty drink and then back to the bartender. “Ain’t gonna argue. Ah’m new’ta Dagos, and if’n das’how dey beh doin’ tings den’ah guess ah’ll do it too.” Reina took a moment to look down at the glass in front of her and dragged her fingers along the top of it in contemplation. “Whatcha tink, Chromey? Ah trust ya, got decent taste in drink.” Reina tilted her head to the side, indicating the man named Church next to her. “Wass’yer circuits tell ya ‘bout all’dis?”

When Wolfe had finished with his piece, Reina looked back to Church expectantly.

He was right, of course, an all ends. It was a deal that Reina had been offered before from various people, but they’d hyped up the offer to no end. Of course they’d want their end to shine in a better light, right? But Wolfe played the devil on her shoulder, or angel depending on how you looked at it, and his voice played over Church’s. The idea of being owned bothered Reina a great deal, though she knew it wasn’t how it was going to be played. ‘Indentured servitude’, they’d call it. The one with the money puts so much into you that the very thought of leaving became impossible; They’d simply not give you a cut of the promised cash bag, citing all the extra money they had to take because of their fighter’s ‘expenses’.

“True, on all fronts,” Church replied, and Reina actually looked surprised. To find a middle man, the one who benefited most when both parties agreed, that was willing to bare the god’s honest truth was rare. “However, if I may Reina? You are not in Suraja anymore. How you fought there was impressive to be sure, but what was there is not what is here. You might as well have stepped into a whole other world.”

Also true, damn it. Reina scoffed as she finished off her current cigarette and pulled out another. She put the pack back into her pocket even as it looked like Church was going to ask for one but the look Reina gave stopped him. Moments turned into minutes before Reina turned to Church and shook her head. The man looked a tad disappointed, though he took it well enough. He left his drink there as he stood up and bowed, then turned on his heel and walked out of the bar with an air of anger.

“Dumb son’bitch,” Reina growled. “Guess ah gots’ta start’ova now. Ugh.” Reina tapped the bar to get Wolfe’s attention and then pointed at her empty glass. “Glass’s empty, rookie,” she winked. “Mommy’s thirsty, keep’em comin’. I’ll let’cha tell me when’ah stop. Ah trust ya.”

The failure to obtain a sponsor bothered her, but it really bothered her that she couldn’t even get an invitation as one of the ‘cannon fodder’. Why? Because of her reputation. She knew that walking into Dagos but didn’t think it would play into her life this early. So, she was fucked because she couldn’t get a sponsor and Church would probably spread the truth of her being a stubborn ass, or she didn’t fight because she was ‘too good’ at fighting in the first place. She’d faced some of the chumps that they’d let in without sponsors. These guys were huge mountain men, all appearance and no substance in the ring at all. Fighting wasn’t just about throwing punches and kicks and those that knew that would actually make it past the first round. The only reason those burly idiots would last longer than one round was because Reina felt she was obligated to show the fans a good show.

“Puh,” Reina let out, slamming a fist on the table in frustration. She turned and apologized too all the conversationalists that went silent at the sudden noise before turning back to her newly refilled drink. “Yer’ah saint dere Chromey.” A beat. “Dun suppose ya know’ah anyone dat wants’ah fightah in dere pockets’, do ya? Dis here ladeh needs’ah gods damned break. Suppose’it’ll beh fun tryin’ta find one dat’wun make meh a’slave. Who owns dis’here fine establishment? Betcha he’d offa’meh ah sponsahship.”