Post by bigjimmy on Jan 11, 2008 23:23:28 GMT -5
*OOC: This bar isn't run by Striker but it's in a different state to where it is set*
A man with a black leather jacket, torn jeans, a red and black bandana and black boots strides into a bar, dust blowing in through the swinging wood doors. The tough-looking man with the very attractive moustache rolls his neck as he struts to the counter. He slumps down on a stool, slamming his elbows down on the counter. He rolls his neck again as the barman wipes out a glass, looking at him suspiciously. He sets the glass down underneath the taps and fills the glass to the brim. The man reaches over and grabs the glass, froth spilling over the top. The barman straightens his bow tie in shock after the man empties the glass with one swig. The man slams the glass down on the counter, smashing it and gets up off the stool.
::Barman:: - “Hey man, the drink is $4 and the glass is $10.”
::Mikey The Bikey:: - “You think I’m going to pay for piss? Warm piss? Shove it up your arse, fag-boy.”
The barman looks around at the other bikers around the bar, looking for some back-up. A tall, heavily tattooed man stands up behind Mikey, setting down his glass and cracking his knuckles. A smile creeps across both men’s faces, across Mikey’s because of the fight building.
::Man:: - “You better pay our good barman. He generously sells us beers after long trips on the road. You pay this man or you’re gonna have our gang to deal with.”
A few more tattooed men stand, also cracking their knuckles. Mikey smiles as he turns. He starts to chuckle as he sees 5 men standing across the door way. His left eye starts to twitch, his neck bending to the right, lifting the left side of his face higher than the right.
::Mikey The Bikey:: - “Huh. You and what army?” Mikey chuckles as the leader motions to the other men. “What do you think you’re gonna achieve? You’re just a bunch-a fag-boys…”
The leader growls loudly and grabs the nearest wooden chair. He walks towards Mikey, wielding the object above his head. Mikey lifts his arm from his side, giving the man a short but jarring uppercut to the point of his chin. The leader’s head snaps back and he stumbles away, dropping the chair. He turns back to Mikey, holding his chin.
::Leader:: - “You dead now, man.”
The four other men take a step towards Mikey, also cracking their knuckles and flexing their biceps. Mikey leaps into action, throwing punches at the first man and holding the back of his head to prevent him from moving. The first man falls and Mikey moves onto another who he kicks in the gut and then follows through with a knee to the head. The second man falls quicker than the first as the two other men jump onto Mikey. Mikey catches one and throws him onto a table, knocking the table over and the man out. The last of the cronies slips behind Mikey and grabs both arms, leaving him open to attacks from the leader. The leader grabs another of the chairs and aims carefully, pulling it back and swinging it down. Mikey ducks and leans forward, pulling the crony into the path of the chair. The chair makes a sickening thud and breaks over the man’s head. Mikey smiles as he stands and drives his right hand into the jaw of the leader and breaking it. Mikey looks around and wipes some dirt off his jacket before reaching into the leader’s breast pocket. He opens it and pulls out a crinkled $50 note before placing it on the counter in front of the barman.
::Mikey The Bikey:: - “He said he flat out refused to foot the bill for the chairs.”
Mikey chuckles as he walks towards the big wooden doors again and he pushes them open hard, the wind trying to push them back. He swings his right leg over his motorcycle as the barman runs out, yelling.
::Barman:: - “Wait up, please! I’m a fighter manager and I want to help you! I can help you on your way to greatness! I’ve put Fighty fighty persons through every wrestling promotion in this state and I know where you can make it big. I’ll take you to Gods and Heretics Wrestling and you will be great. What do you say?”
Mikey looks at the barman as he fires up his beautiful bike.
::Mikey The Bikey:: - “How much money will I make and how much are you gonna suck from me?”
::Barman:: - “I’ll take a few dollars here and there when I need it but it’s worth it isn’t it? You will be a household name! And with an attitude like that, you’ve got what it takes to be a champion. Is it a deal?”
Mikey grabs the barman’s hand and then hands him a helmet.
::Mikey The Bikey:: - “Get on, fag-boy”
*Scene Fades*
A man with a black leather jacket, torn jeans, a red and black bandana and black boots strides into a bar, dust blowing in through the swinging wood doors. The tough-looking man with the very attractive moustache rolls his neck as he struts to the counter. He slumps down on a stool, slamming his elbows down on the counter. He rolls his neck again as the barman wipes out a glass, looking at him suspiciously. He sets the glass down underneath the taps and fills the glass to the brim. The man reaches over and grabs the glass, froth spilling over the top. The barman straightens his bow tie in shock after the man empties the glass with one swig. The man slams the glass down on the counter, smashing it and gets up off the stool.
::Barman:: - “Hey man, the drink is $4 and the glass is $10.”
::Mikey The Bikey:: - “You think I’m going to pay for piss? Warm piss? Shove it up your arse, fag-boy.”
The barman looks around at the other bikers around the bar, looking for some back-up. A tall, heavily tattooed man stands up behind Mikey, setting down his glass and cracking his knuckles. A smile creeps across both men’s faces, across Mikey’s because of the fight building.
::Man:: - “You better pay our good barman. He generously sells us beers after long trips on the road. You pay this man or you’re gonna have our gang to deal with.”
A few more tattooed men stand, also cracking their knuckles. Mikey smiles as he turns. He starts to chuckle as he sees 5 men standing across the door way. His left eye starts to twitch, his neck bending to the right, lifting the left side of his face higher than the right.
::Mikey The Bikey:: - “Huh. You and what army?” Mikey chuckles as the leader motions to the other men. “What do you think you’re gonna achieve? You’re just a bunch-a fag-boys…”
The leader growls loudly and grabs the nearest wooden chair. He walks towards Mikey, wielding the object above his head. Mikey lifts his arm from his side, giving the man a short but jarring uppercut to the point of his chin. The leader’s head snaps back and he stumbles away, dropping the chair. He turns back to Mikey, holding his chin.
::Leader:: - “You dead now, man.”
The four other men take a step towards Mikey, also cracking their knuckles and flexing their biceps. Mikey leaps into action, throwing punches at the first man and holding the back of his head to prevent him from moving. The first man falls and Mikey moves onto another who he kicks in the gut and then follows through with a knee to the head. The second man falls quicker than the first as the two other men jump onto Mikey. Mikey catches one and throws him onto a table, knocking the table over and the man out. The last of the cronies slips behind Mikey and grabs both arms, leaving him open to attacks from the leader. The leader grabs another of the chairs and aims carefully, pulling it back and swinging it down. Mikey ducks and leans forward, pulling the crony into the path of the chair. The chair makes a sickening thud and breaks over the man’s head. Mikey smiles as he stands and drives his right hand into the jaw of the leader and breaking it. Mikey looks around and wipes some dirt off his jacket before reaching into the leader’s breast pocket. He opens it and pulls out a crinkled $50 note before placing it on the counter in front of the barman.
::Mikey The Bikey:: - “He said he flat out refused to foot the bill for the chairs.”
Mikey chuckles as he walks towards the big wooden doors again and he pushes them open hard, the wind trying to push them back. He swings his right leg over his motorcycle as the barman runs out, yelling.
::Barman:: - “Wait up, please! I’m a fighter manager and I want to help you! I can help you on your way to greatness! I’ve put Fighty fighty persons through every wrestling promotion in this state and I know where you can make it big. I’ll take you to Gods and Heretics Wrestling and you will be great. What do you say?”
Mikey looks at the barman as he fires up his beautiful bike.
::Mikey The Bikey:: - “How much money will I make and how much are you gonna suck from me?”
::Barman:: - “I’ll take a few dollars here and there when I need it but it’s worth it isn’t it? You will be a household name! And with an attitude like that, you’ve got what it takes to be a champion. Is it a deal?”
Mikey grabs the barman’s hand and then hands him a helmet.
::Mikey The Bikey:: - “Get on, fag-boy”
*Scene Fades*
