( OPEN ) » if you wanna start a fight, you'd better throw the first punch, make it a good one

[violetnce]

WHO: Elizabeth Braddock + you!
WHERE: Maurtia Falls » a bar somewhere in the city.
WHEN: Night » to..night, to be exact?? I guESS?? Yeah.
WHAT: Shenanigans. And by that I mean she's getting in a bar fight.
WARNINGS: Violet violence! Violetnce. Er — yeah, some violence. See above section. BAR FIGHT.

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.::. and if you wanna make it through the night, you better say my name like the good, the bad, and the dirty .::.

So, there Betsy is, in a bar in Maurtia Falls, somewhere between 9:30 and 10:30 PM, on her -- however many -- beer by now. She's not drunk (she's good at holding her alcohol -- though it's not because of any superpowered enhancement, or her mutation, or the Porter, or whatever else), but she's well into tipsy. She's rolled her eyes at way too many people trying to hit on her, won enough money playing darts and pool to buy herself a nice lunch tomorrow (or drink it all tonight; either way, she probably used her telepathy and telekinesis to cheat a little), and then somehow nothing became something and she wanted to get in on the row being had among several other patrons and —

She's tossing a stool, smashing a chair over someone, maybe chucking a beer bottle. Definitely doing some crazy parkour shit over people and flying objects. Her violet hair, not tied up in its usual tight and high ponytail, is swinging around with her movements, and her violet irises have a pretty intense look to them.

Help a lady out? Maybe get smacked by her? Try to tell her to calm the fuck down?

Comments

[showshismetal]

Alphonse is there to just enjoy some of the new beers that had come into town. He has not had a lot yet, and when the fight breaks out, and he ducks. Peering around, he loses his latest beer to a flung bottle and swears. "Fiddlesticks!"

When someone swings him around to punch him, he reels back, swears again, and then punches back, then uses the man's charge to fling him into another table. Alphonse ducks around another guy and wades in, his masterclass martial arts training showing as people start getting flung around a lot.

Somewhere in it, he ducks, spins and ends up back to back with someone. He glances over his shoulder, sees Betsy, and whistles, then hits another guy.

"Hey. Nice night?" He shouts the words over his shoulder.

[calltheundertaker]

Maurtia Falls was a good place to go looking for trouble, and McCree was all about finding some trouble tonight. He'd already hit up one bar and had some whiskey, but that one had been too quiet. So off he had gone again, looking for someone that deserved some punching.

That's when he gets the text from Besty Be at Fumducks Bar in ten minutes if you want to hand out an asskicking and it's right down the street. He grins as he heads toward the door, slipping inside to what can only be called chaos. And there she is in the center, a tornado of purple hair and flying limbs and various bits of furniture. The grin hasn't left his lips as he takes his hat off, tossing it onto a hook near the door before he wades in, and he's nowhere near as graceful, but his fists find a face here and a gut there, and everyone else's punches... don't. He always seems to be able to dodge just enough that the fists either don't connect at all or they're glancing blows.

A bottle comes flying at his head and he catches it, shifting his grip to throw it in turn at a guy coming up behind Betsy with a barstool. He laughs, shouting to be heard over the general din. "Y' got started without me! That's mighty impolite of ya." He blocks another punch, sweeping the leg out from under the attacker while barely paying him any attention.

[killtime]

Andy doesn't make it her habit to get involved in other people's fights — not unless there's money involved. Or maybe orphans. She's always had a soft spot for orphans. The situation at hand definitely lacks for either of those things. In fact, the only things that seem to be in excess are broken bottles and black eyes, neither of which are especially appealing. But even with Andy's well-fostered habit of indifference, it's damn hard to ignore... Well, her. That woman. The frighteningly graceful blur of violence that has been tearing through the bar.

She can't remember the last time she saw someone move like that. Centuries ago, maybe.

It's really against her better sense when she gets up from her seat at the bar. She drove six hours to get away from her assigned house and her assigned job to think this whole alternate universe shit over, not to get her nose potentially broken by a stranger. But hey, with her powers, what's there to really lose anyway? If she has to have a real reason, she'll call it curiosity. Or the desperate need for a distraction.

Andy breaches the chaos mostly guided by an old warrior's instincts and a couple shots of vodka, reaching out to catch this chair-smashing, bottle-chucking woman by the arm.

[codeofiron]

Brandon's stayed in a corner, drinking whiskey on the rocks. He has, perhaps, had a little more than he typically would, a practice he has, perhaps, been guilty of a little too often since arriving here. He'd watched the dart game, not motivated enough to play it himself but impressed by Betsy's skill.

When the fight started, Brandon had hesitated. He'd missed how it started, and was uncertain how to break it up. As Betsy dives in, however, he decides that the best option is probably just to separate everyone. By knocking them out, if necessary.

He wades in, shoving two of the parties involved apart, which happens to bring him directly into crazy parkour Betsy's path.