sweatmyrust (sweatmyrust) wrote in containmentrp, @ 2015-01-19 15:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2215-01-10, ash, jane |
Trouble
Who: Ash and Jane (and Marcus the NPC)
When: Evening, around 8:45-9pm
Where: The Slums
Warnings: Language
Asher had worked a full day in the factories, but he wasn't oblivious to what was happening in his neighborhood. A roof collapse, a family now without a husband or father... and the masses come swarming in, pretending to care. Politicians using the tragedy to further their agenda. 'Charitable' neighbors from the nicer districts showing up to help, when most of them won't come near the Slums on a normal day. It pissed Asher off, so he was more than happy to go to work, rather than watching people mill around with their donations, like they actually gave a shit. In a few weeks, it wasn't likely he'd see any of them again. Until the next senseless accident. Because shit didn't change in Haven no matter how many roofs collapsed, or how many people got hurt, or died.
He was off the tram at a quarter to nine, walking the last several blocks home. He was hoping Molly was home and in bed already, or at least home and safe. His boots crunched in the snow, and the cheap cigarette he was smoking hung from his lips as he shifted his coat on his shoulders to try and zip it higher near his chin. He was a block away from home now, turning to take a short cut through one of the alley ways. The footsteps moving rapidly behind him didn't startle him. He had figured he'd have unwanted company eventually. Ash had been having too much success in the rings lately, and there were plenty of people who didn't like it. He couldn't blame them. No one liked losing a buck. Especially in the slums.
Tugging the cigarette from his lips, Ash turned near an old, rusted dumpster, spotting the figure as it turned into the alley way after Ash. He sighed. "C'mon, you really wanna do this?"
The guy was someone Ash recognized. Marcus Vioti. He worked street clean up, and Ash had fought him a few times. The man was short and stocky, but he packed a mean right hook. Still, he had never beat Ash, no matter how many times the man tried. And Marcus tried. A lot. 0The problem was, Marcus was ungifted, and Ash had a good five inches on him.
"Just want my money back," Marcus said. Ash heard the determination, but he could see some of the fear too. And the tiny glint of metal poking out from beneath Marcus's long sleeved jacket. Ash dropped his cigarette to the snow, listening to it snuff out swiftly, so he didn't bother using his boot. "Pullin' a knife on me ain't gonna make this a fair fight."
Marcus snorted. "Fair? I never said shit about fair. You see where we live? What we do? What's fair 'bout that?" His stock build started for Ash. "Just give me back my share of the money, and nothin' bad has to happen."
"Shit, Marcus, why do you get into fightin' if you can't afford to lose? That's on you." Ash shook his head and lifted up his hand in a show of peace. "Don't make me hurt you." He had the law enforcement on his back enough. He didn't want to give them another reason to show up on his door. But Marcus seemed like he had a plan, and he was sticking to it. There was a snarl before Marcus swung swiftly. He got a hit in, connecting with Ash's jaw. It caused a fair amount of pain - the guy could fight, after all - and Ash stepped back. He heaved out another sigh before lunging at Marcus, and then two flew backward and into the snow. He thought he saw the knife slip out from beneath Marcus's jacket into the snow, but he was too busy trying to avoid an eye gouge to really check.