Enter the Ring

You've just entered the underground Ring. A lanky, blue eyed boy is there to greet you. His name is Joe and he's ready for anything.

[empressahab]

Do I look like Marty McFly to you ⌛

[empressahab]

The Queen of the Cheap Shots just grins down at her latest victim, taking a satisfying moment to be incredibly smug about her victory.  Haughtily, she tosses her braid back behind her shoulder and glances around the onlookers just to make sure there aren’t any other wise-guys who think she’s not perfectly capable of shutting their mouths for them.

"Yeah, whale, maybe next time he’ll think twice before he starts talkin with his lower brain."  She spares the fallen Dawson one last glance, barely resisting the urge to spout some Godfather-worthy one-liner, but it’s probably best she doesn’t ruin her newly earned cred by embarrassing herself with puns that aren’t her usual forte.

Seems like half-pint over here is definitely the guy to talk to, though, judging by the way everyone else follows his orders with nothing but a little good-natured bitching.  Meenah decides it’s definitely her excellent judge of character that made her talk to Egbert first, so she turns fully towards him and hefts herself back out of the pit. 

"You won’t hear me turnin down free booze and food," She replies, coming to a stop next to him.  "I heard Tyler Durden back there callin’ you Egbert, right?  Name’s Meenah."

[that20sboy]

Joe doesn't know who "Tyler Durden" must be, but he smiles good-naturedly anyway. This lady is just full of surprises, isn't she? He notices the guys exchanging a few coins and shakes his head a bit as he motions Meenah to follow him.

"You can call me Joe as you like, ma'am," he murmurs, picking up a shirt from near the door and sliding it on. His thin fingers quickly do up the buttons and start tucking it into his pants. "Most folks on the outside do. Egbert's my father if you're not a balled up bimbo."

"Close to taking offense there, Egbert!" one of the other guys cracks but Joe just waves cheerfully dismissive at him.

"Come on, Finnegan, we all know you're the brains of the operation."

"Ye'd know all about that, wouldn't ye now?"

Joe just grins wider and runs a hand through his hair, which does nothing to smooth the mess. He glances over Meenah as he rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. 

"Better blow the place before someone else gets the bright idea to go around with you. It'd be a shame to have to replace them all."

[that20sboy]

It's a Terrific Time for Dirty Deeds

[tangibletechnology]

Well, at least he stopped with the whole touching thing when you asked him to, that was nice. You still want Miffles around though, and although you can’t exactly twitch involuntary, you find yourself making a half grabbing motion for the backpack’s strap to take it off before you catch yourself in the act and stop. Probably not a good idea to disobey the one dude who seems willing to try to get you back to the apartment- hopefully you aren’t too far, maybe you’ve just ran into a reenactment fair of the sort, small towns do that, right? You are a little foggy on the subject but it’s a possible explanation for the atmosphere. 

When he closes and opens the door and mumbles something about applesauce, (which you remember as one of the dumb snacks that Dirk liked to eat, he kept the fridge stocked up with it most of the time, although you could never see the appeal in it yourself- it just looked like pale, squishy glop) you raise an eyebrow because if he’s looking for a snack that is probably not the right place to look. 

You just sort of awkwardly stand in front of him because you’re sure you’re not supposed to sit beside him, but you’re also not sure if it would be appropriate to sit anywhere else- even if you could find the seat. You settle for shifting the straps of your backpack, since it’s digging into your shoulders, and answer his questions as best you can, voice meandering off at points as you consider answers.

"Nice to meet you too, Joe, and same goes towards you." Pause, shuffle your feet a little and twist your thumb behind the strap because wow, uncomfortable. "I could assume so from the atmosphere, and assuming that word means what I think it means, from Dirk’s old timey films- alright." He asks you the year, and your eyebrow lifts slightly, because duh, that’s obvious. "Twentyfourteen, last I checked."

You pause again, picking at a stray thread on the stitching of the strap. “Or really, two thousand and fourteen is the proper way to say it, but I suppose you probably have a different idea?” You scrunch your nose a little as the thread won’t come out, and continue plucking at it. “But really, if this is some kind of staged play fair, that’s cool and all- but I just wanna get home. Dirk’s gonna be worried.” 

[that20sboy]

You rub your hand down your face and just stare at the kid. Why does this keep happening? At this rate, you're going to go gray like your dad before you hit twenty. Okay, think Egbert. Time to handle it.

"I'm gonna sound like I'm around the bend, but I swear I'm being straight with you," is how you start and feel absolutely ridiculous despite knowing it's the truth. "The year is nineteen-seventeen. You're in New York. You've traveled back in time. I know it sounds like a bunch of hogwash, but I swear it's the truth."

You kind of want to take his hand or give him a comforting hug but you don't want to make him any less comfortable than he already is. There's not a lot else you can do.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay, kid. This has happened before. A different kid, he stayed around for an hour or so, then this doorway sent him home again. Maybe if we wait a bit, it'll work again. I won't let anything happen to you in the meantime, okay?"

[empressahab]

Do I look like Marty McFly to you ⌛

[empressahab]

Meenah shakes her hand out after her hit lands, if only because she’d been expecting the douchebag to at least try and move so that she wouldn’t hit his dammed teeth.  A quick glance reassures her that his teeth didn’t cut her hands up, which is good since she’s got no idea what kind of fishy things might be in his saliva - she’s got no idea what the shell kind of transmittable diseases they’ve got these days, but shell if she wants to risk it.

She hasn’t met a basshole this bad at fighting since she was still living on the Naval base, and the way he takes a wild swing at her afterwards isn’t doing much to make her reconsider.

She brings up her forearms to block it, and then catches his arm on her downswing, jerking him forward so his crotch makes real good fronds with her kneecap.  She lets him drop, and even if she’s pretty confident that he won’t be getting back up, she doesn’t take her eyes off of him.

"Dang, no wonder this place is so empty if this is the kinda ‘prize’ fighters you got lined up," She calls to Egbert, over her shoulder.

[that20sboy]

Dawson goes down hard and stays there, groaning as he holds onto his abused nethers. The other men are split down the middle between wincing and laughing at his misfortune, but Joe just gives Meenah a roguish grin. 

"Good thing he isn't one of our big sixes," he replies cheerfully. "He just likes to think of himself that way. Poor thing."

He snickers as Dawson tries to pick himself up only to give up half way through. Motioning to one of the other men, Joe directs them to drag the guy out of the ring and off somewhere to recover. They listen to him without a grumble, used to it despite his youth and their earlier jeering. Whatever their reservations, they know Joe's under Amos's thumb and his word is as good. Joe's been working this place since he was way too young for it.

"I think I owe you a drink," he says as he turns back to Meenah. "Maybe a bit of lunch, too. Then we can talk?"

[that20sboy]

It's a Terrific Time for Dirty Deeds

[tangibletechnology]

You are absolutely befuddled as to why he had whipped around to stare wildly at the crowd- it almost reminded you of the time you had accidentally stumbled upon one of the more crueler animal videos on Youtube, and it was more than a little disconcerting. He looks like he’s sobered up a little when he next looks at you, and seeing as you really don’t have much of a choice otherwise, you put Miffles back into your backpack. You make sure to zip it up tightly so that there’s no chance of his falling out, and shove him in pretty deeply into the jumble of random items, and various tools and knick knacks you’d stolen from Dirk to use on your little ‘adventure.’ 

Of course, it was all turning out to be much more exciting, if confusing than you had expected, but hey. There was probably a use for at least some of the stuff in here, even if you couldn’t get reception for your phone, (which reminded you, why did you have one again? It wasn’t like you actually needed one, maybe it was Dirk’s actually, but that was alright, he had another one in his bedroom probably,) the flashlight and the jumble of pocket treasures should prove useful. Hopefully. You really hadn’t had much of a plan as to how to pack really, since you had thought you were just going to stage another wannabee Indiana Jones and puttering around with Miffles until you got bored and went back up to the apartment, but apparently that wasn’t happening. In fact, the whole area was pretty damn oldtimey, if those battered up black and white movies and gangster films you’d managed to scrounge up from Dirk’s stash were anything to go by.

He says something to a rather imposing figure, (but it’s not like that matters to you, you’re pretty relaxed because you have the reassuring knowledge that thanks to Dirk’s robotic skills, you technically could easily get out of anything sticky, physically speaking) and then grabs you by the shoulder before steering you back out of the door. You don’t much like that, and you decide that maybe you ought to peep up about it, just in case he starts getting the idea that that’s okay to do. It isn’t.

"Can you please not grab me? I mean, I generally don’t like being touched, and ‘s okay if you need to lead me somewhere, but please don’t grab me. I promise I’ll follow you and not run off, where could I anyways, but please do not touch me." You really wish you were allowed to have Miffles out, and maybe bury your face in his fur again for a moment, but that’s not a thing that’s happening either at the moment so you guess you’ll just have to put up with it.

"And I don’t know what you mean by folks, as in plural- correct? As far as I am aware I’m the only one who has gotten lost in, uh, wherever we are- where are we, anyways? Does this place have a name? I know my address but I’m not sure I’m even close to the shore anymore," And that little piece of rhyming is stashed away for future reference. "Dirk’s not going to be happy with me, not ‘pposed to leave the ‘partment without him knowing, and I am definitely sure I’m not ‘pposed to get lost. Bluh. What’s your name anyways mister?" You suppose now is a good a time as any to post the question, and you look up at him best you can, considering that he’s sort of pushing you forwards and all that.

[that20sboy]

The moment the kid protests, you startle and let him go. "Sorry, most ones your age like to put up a fuss."

With the last one, Dave, you'd managed to figure out that the door he'd come through led back home. But when you open it now, the stair up to the factory office above is before you instead. You frown, close it, and open it again. No difference. "Applesauce."

You stare upward a moment, look at the kid, and then usher him out so that the din of the fight won't keep you from understanding him. You tug the door closed and then settle yourself on the bottom stair. 

"All right. Lets start with the basics. My name's Joe Egbert. Nice to meet ya. Wish it were under better circumstances." You don't offer your hand since he doesn't care for handling. "This is definitely not a place for scamps like you. Now I'm gonna ask you a question and it's a real doozey. Shouldn't have to, but that's neither here nor there. Now kid, what year do you think it is?"

You'd once dreamed of time travel with your head tucked in your mother's old books. This reality of it is not turning out anything like you thought it might. You certainly had never figured you'd be herding clean cut thirteen year olds from the future. 

[empressahab]

Do I look like Marty McFly to you ⌛

[empressahab]

"Buoy, you’re either blind or stupid because I ain’t wearin no skirt," Meenah snarks, a little bit soothed now that she knows she gets to take this minnow back to school.  She sizes him up while he argues with Suspenders (apparently named Egbert, but Meenah thinks that’s a lame as hell name), and gives him a nasty grin when his pride makes him accept the challenge.

She doubts he could keep up with her in any battle of the sexes, in any case.

She’s also going to come out of this with an assortment of new things to call people.  Piker! She can guess it’s meaning just by the way Dawson reacts, and the best part is that it’s got the word Pike in it.  New fish insult achieved! Shell yeah.

"Bitch, please, I’m too fabulous for humility," She snipes back, hopping into the ring herself.  Nobody said anything about any rules or waiting for the bell bullship, so Meenah falls into stance and then barely lets him get his contrived, free-shot machoism out of the way before she’s slamming her knuckles into his face with glee.

Meenah’s not fucking around - she can fight straight and she can fight dirty, and most of the time she settles for a mix of the two.  Demons and summoners don’t give a shit about fair fights in her world, and she doesn’t give a shit about giving this basstard a chance to defend himself.

[that20sboy]

Dawson rolls his eyes as Meenah makes her brash way into the pit. His lips turn into a patronizing smile as he turns to give one of the other guys a word. Joe leans at the edge of the pit to watch. He's almost not interested in who wins- except he completely is because wouldn't that just make the perfect picture, Dawson getting flummoxed by a woman.

He's not disappointed. Her first strike gets Dawson right in the teeth and he's nearly down just from that. The other men give out jeers and encouragement with mirthful surprise. Even Joe's grinning like a loon. 

"Attagirl," he murmurs, mostly to himself as he grins.

The idiot tries to recover, but he was outclassed the moment this started. He gives a wild swing without much art to it but it's obvious the guy has no idea how to actually fight if his messy boxer stance is any indication.

[empressahab]

Do I look like Marty McFly to you ⌛

[empressahab]

"I’d do it for free," She sneers, with a dirty look towards the man they’re mutually badmouthing.  It would not bother her in the slightest to put him down in his place, and she’d happily provide the knuckle sandwich necessary to do so.

At least it turns out she’s still in New York, even if it is so many years in the past.  Knowing where she is doesn’t do her a whole lotta good, but at least she doesn’t have to add ‘geographically lost’ to her list of problems.

The look she gives Joe at the jumbled mess that comes out of his mouth, next, could probably full NASA for the next 200 years on incredulity alone.  The only thing she can really pick out of is that ossified hopefully translates to ‘wasted as glub’.

And then douchebag mcasking-for-it speaks up again, and Meenah might not know what he’s replying to but she knows it’s nothing good, and he’s pissed her off for the last time, tonight.

"That’s it, cabin boy," She snarls, knocking past Joe to march up to him, "I didn’t wanna embarrass you in front a your boyfriends, jackbass, but you just hadta push it.  We got a ring and an audience, so why don’t you put your fists where your trash-talking mouth is and see which one fares better?"

[that20sboy]

Joe stumbles a bit as the dame pushes him aside, brows shooting up to his hairline. He hadn't actually thought she'd follow through but he knows that kind of stubborn look. There's gonna be no changing her mind, he expects. 

Whatever-son looks about as poleaxed as Joe did, but then the look fades into something a lot more patronizing. 

"Aw, come on now, Doll," he croons out with a smirk. "Nothing but a little fun. You've got no need to get your dukes out. You want a real battle of the sexes, come join me at-"

He pauses as Joe step up behind the woman, thumbs tucked in his suspenders again. "We've got five witnesses and an empty ring, Johnson."

"Dawson. You're not serious. Egbert, there's no way I'm getting into it with a skirt-"

"Then you forfeit?" Joe asks, his voice even and almost bored. "Piker."

Dawson's eyes narrow. After a moment, he straightens and starts rolling his sleeves up. "You want to get beat by a man so bad, fine. I'm game for teaching you a little lesson in humility. God knows you need one."

With a curl of his lip, he stepped on into the cement basin of the main ring. "Maybe I'll even give you a free shot."

[empressahab]

Do I look like Marty McFly to you ⌛

[empressahab]

The Ring, eh? She listens to him describe what sounds like some Fight Club bullship, and it does explain the way they’ve got this place set up.  Probably not legal where she’s from, but shell if she knows if it is in this day and age - history hadn’t been the sort of thing she’d been interested in studying.

At least he’s not treating her like she came in on the coat tails of a bad hurricane, any moor.

"He calls me Doll again, and he ain’t gonna have no lips to catcall out of,” She mutters back, because she’s never been the type to let ship like that go without at least a middle finger or two getting involved.  Even if she does apparently have her very own knight-in-suspenders to try and defend her honor for her, right now.

"What part of the US we in, hero buoy?" She asks, in response to his question.  "And where’s a girl gotta go for some entertainment if there’s none to be had around here?" She might as well play along, anyway.  Until she figures out why Dave put her here (if it was him), or he gets tired of whatever game he’s playing.

[that20sboy]

"I'd pay good money to see that," Joe replies with a shrug. He likes her better with every word that comes out her mouth. Hell, he figures he'd get at least four to one odds if she did take the lout down. "Unlucky for him, he don't know his onions. Probably drop at the first strike."

And Joe's getting real irritated with the self assured look that fella wears most the time. Like he's got something up his sleeve.

"New York, ma'am. Lower East side. 'Fraid it isn't a picnic down here but we manage." He hooked his thumbs at the base of his suspenders, tilting his head as he tried to think what a skirt like this might enjoy. She's lively enough for just about anything, he's pretty sure. "I don't know what you're looking for exactly, but there's a good saloon down the street where you can get as ossified on panther sweat as you please. Might wanna think of getting some new clothes or they're likely to take a sheba like you for a quiff or completely nerts, though, and I'm thinking you'd take offense to that."

"I'll say," yells whatever-son.

Joe's lips twist before he lifts a hand behind his back and flips him the bird. The idiot just gives another sleezy laugh. Oh, he is going to get that man in the pit one day, and soon. 

[empressahab]

Do I look like Marty McFly to you ⌛

[empressahab]

Meenah’s not oblivious to the stares she’s getting, but neither is she particularly concerned with them.  She’s faced things way more daunting than a few middle-aged perverts who can’t rub two pennies together for enough subtlety to fool a starfish.  Even if she couldn’t handle it, she’s got back up she can almost guarantee none of them have ever seen before.

So it’s not the staring that gets her, it’s the way this punk bass little cretin in front of her actually has the nerve to gawp at her, and then blush like it’s going out of style.  What is he, the son of a nun?  Of all the preconceptions she could have had of him walking up, ‘chaste’ and ‘pure’ sure as shell hadn’t been at the top of that list.

She gets tired of being treated like some kind of wilting damsel exactly three words in, so she just rolls her eyes as he admonishes the perverts and stuffs her hands in her pockets.  Her posture is terrible.

Did he just call her a dame? That’s a checkmark for Mob Movie Scenario numero uno.

"Guppy, those tools ain’t lookin at me any different than any basshole in the Ritz would," She says, with an inelegant snort, and then she frowns the more he talks.  Cod, what did she do, slip-n-slide straight back to 1920?

…

Glubbing Dave.

She mashes down the sharp stab of irritation and the smaller flip of panic, because demon or not, it’s not like Dave would leave her there if he really did send her back.  The problem is, she’s not so sure he understands what an appropriate length of time is socially acceptable to leave your partner in crime in the past (that correct answer is never. It is never socially acceptable).

"I can handle whatever the losers in these waters throw at me," She finally says, instead, deftly avoiding all the other questions he threw at her, "Didn’t I ask you a question? What’s with the set-up?"

[that20sboy]

Gee wiz, is her accent thick. Joe blinks a little, trying to make sense of her odd slang and- Well. She's kind of hard-boiled, isn't she? It's kind of funny. Joe's still blushing, but an embarrassed grin passes over his face at how commanding she is. It reminds him of Wendy and maybe he doesn't trust her as far as he could throw her but she is definitely one hell of a dame.

"Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am," Joe responded with a nod and he's grinning wider now. Woman like this, wearing clothes like that, hip to the jive, queerest thing he's seen in a long time. "This is the Ring. Bare knuckle fights when we've got the notion to plan 'em."

"But you can come anytime you like, Doll!" one of the others calls out and Joe throws a dirty look over his shoulder.

"You want a round with me, Ethel, just keep up the lip!"

The man laughs and waves a dismissive hand. He's not one of the regulars, some new guy they snagged from Jersey last week, and he hasn't seen Joe fight or he might know to take that seriously. He thinks his name might be Johnson, Frederickson, Smithson- something son, which is fitting as the most he seems to have accomplished is being born. Joe doesn't give him long. 

"Lollygagging son of a bitch," Joe mutters under his breath before he turns back to the odd bird. "What else can I do you for?"

[empressahab]

Do I look like Marty McFly to you ⌛

Meenah stands just inside the threshold of the strange building and waits for her eyes to adjust to the sub-par lighting.  Twenty bucks says this is Dave’s idea of a payback for that time she tried to pay him with an old sixpence piece, and twenty more says she’s going to hate it when she figures out what he’s done.

Just to make sure, she opens the door again and looks out. Yeah. Definitely not the place she’d been when she’d walked through the door.  Meenah puns under her breath and turns back to the room - it’s not empty, but it’s not overfull, either.  There’s a few guys in suspenders and rolled up sleeves hanging around, muttering to themselves and looking shady.

The room itself looks like a poor man’s Colloseum, with some kind of pit surrounded by wooden, makeshift bleachers.  The air’s heavy with the smell of cigarettes, so she guesses this room doesn’t get aired out a lot - one or two of the people dotting the room are wielding cigars like status symbols, and she’s surprised people besides her meal-tickets family still smoke them.

It looks like a mob movie, minus the hard working middle-class man’s man as the protagonist.  Put in laymen’s terms, Meenah’s not impressed.

"Alright," She starts, under her breath because the last thing she needs is for strangers in strange places pegging her as a person of interest because she’s talking to herself like she’s capsized.  "I dunno what got your feathers ruffled blondie but this seems like the sort of mojo I gotta pay for at the end of the day, so I’m telling you now that this is pro bono as shell."

He doesn’t answer her, because he’s a loser and a wet blanket.

Time to figure out where the glub she is.  There’s a kid off to one side who doesn’t look half as twitchy as most of the sharks in this place, so she sets pace towards him. "Yo, scruffy.  What’s with the set-up?"

[that20sboy]

Joe had been looking over the fight bowl for any needed repairs to the masonry when he spots the woman. And then he just stares at her, blue eyes going wide. What in Sam Hill- Hookers wore more in public. Her belly exposed, so much of her neck and- trousers. She's wearing trousers. For a few moments, he can only state at her in utter bewilderment. 

"I-" And then he's blushing hard, right to his ears. She's got choice gams that go on forever and a good figure and he can see all of it, clear as the day she was born, and the set of bubs on display just- Joe swallows and a few of the other guys are giving her a look over with interest but he's suddenly wondering where the hell the rest of her clothes are. "Ma'am, I- are you all right??"

Did someone mug her for them? She doesn't seem roughed up, but maybe she'd complied and- Joe turned and then glared right at the group of old man Petrov's men. "You lot quit gaping! Ain't you seen a dame before?!"

A few of them look chastised but the rest only smirk. They're all twice his age, what right does he have to go bellyaching at them. Joe frowns and leans in closer to the woman. 

"Look, I'm real sorry for them. They're a rough lot and this isn't exactly the ritz. And it looks like you've caught enough trouble round these parts," he murmurs in a lower tone, brows drawn up uneasily. "You needing a ride somewhere? Petrov's got a flivver he might let me borrow, take you back home. Isn't safe for a woman to go walking on her own, though you probably already guessed that one."

[that20sboy]

It's a Terrific Time for Dirty Deeds

[tangibletechnology]

You’re not exactly sure what just happened, or where you are- but there’s someone holding your arm rather tightly and you do not like that one bit. Technically, you could turn off your sensory network- it’d be as easy as ‘mentally’ typing the command, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the weird feeling of flesh on your synthetic skin, but you weren’t exactly thinking all that straight. Being caught off guard isn’t something that occurs all that often for you, and you did not like to be touched. Especially not by some random stranger, the last person you had ran into that you didn’t know had touched up Miffles and that was souring the whole record for the lot of them.

So you look up at said person with a petulant face on, squinting at him as if you can’t properly see him. You can see him just fine though, you just felt like doing that, Dirk does that when he’s angry and so you assume it must be some kind of odd human signal. He’s grinning pretty widely, which is odd in itself, you haven’t seen a lot of smiles, except for those hilariously awful stock photos- because Dirk’s not really a smiley type, so it takes you aback for a moment and you just blink up at him.

"Yeah, would be home, don’t seem like the kinda place to hang round none, but got lost, dunno where I am." You decide that you might as well give him the truth, or likewise, something close enough to the truth and not all of the nitty gritty details, just enough to get some information you could try to work with. It was a little unnerving, being in close proximity to so many people. "Miffles thought it might be a good idea to look ‘round, see if I could find ‘ny help." As if to prove this, you try to shrug off your backpack, (you always carry one with you, even around the house occasionally, for stashing all sorts of junk, especially when you go outside) and dropping it onto the ground between your feet, bend down awkwardly to pull him out.

The soft toy peeps out cautiously, ears bending forwards a little. It’s a small rabbit, a tannish sort of brown, with a luridly orange bow tied under it’s chin. You try to ignore the grip he has on your arm, and manage to put your backpack back on with one arm and carry the bunny up to show him. 

"See?"

[that20sboy]

You lift a brow at the kid's face. That's quite the look he's just given you. Most fathers would spank for such a look. Since you are not, in fact, a father, you just smirk back at him. 

And- another lost kid? This is becoming a huge problem, one you are going to have to fix once you figure out what's going on. You hesitate and look the kid over. His clothes are weird, almost as weird as that Dave kid's, but at least this one has pants. 

You almost say something, but then he's reaching in his satchel and what he pulls out- You blink and then let him go before shifting yourself between him and the rest of the crowd, giving a wild look to see if anyone noticed. No, no, they're concentrated on the fight. Matches is on a twenty fight streak, the bets are high. You don't quite relax as you turn back to the kid. 

"Okay, put that away and follow my lead," you tell him, the mirth gone from your face. You've got another kid from the future on your hands and you aren't sure how long this one is gonna stay. Tapping the bouncer's arm, you give him a short word that you're going out, and then grab the kid's shoulder and start steering him on to the back door again. "I swear, when it's not one thing it's another. Where do you folks keep showing up from?"

[that20sboy]

It's a Terrific Time for Dirty Deeds

The Ring is in full swing. You can barely hear the whine of Waylon's fiddle over the shouting filling the place, but you wouldn't need to since half the group is singing along whatever irish jig it is, several of them terribly off key. The fight is going well and the bets have been hefty. You can just barely see Amos through the sea of bodies, grinning his fool head off. 

You'd be watching, but you're on sneak thief duty. Last fight, there were a handful of the brats hanging around, waiting for an overeager patron to stop paying attention. You knew most of their faces of course- they're the same kids you watch out for when you're fetching supplies for your father, or running errands for old man Petrov. You're pretty sure most of them are running with the Starved Rabbits, but one of those faces looked awfully like a cousin to Seamus' ilk. You can't prove anything and the guy is practically in Petrov's pocket, but you keep that in mind anyway.

So, when you see a new face near the back door, too young to bet, you immediately head for him. He's not that small, almost workable age, but you aren't taking chances. You scoot past one of the big sixes and and catch the scamp by the arm.

"Ain't you got somewhere else to be, kiddo?" you ask him cheerfully with a grin on your face, but your grip is firm.

[that20sboy]

((Hey, hasn't been any activity here and unfortunately I'm pretty driven by other characters, so if anyone would like a starter, just give me a like and I will write one for you!! :D :D :D

Also, hello followers I haven't greeted yet!! Nice to meet you <3 <3 <3 ))

[that20sboy]

Enter the Ring +7

[exoticsmuppeteer]

It was quite obvious to tell he was confused. Orange orbs darted around behind his dark, pointed sunglasses, trying to figure out where the absolute fuck he was. It was quite apparent he probably wasn’t in Texas anymore. or what seemed to be his time frame either—

Oh quit it, just walking through a door couldn’t send you back in time, don’t be a dumbass!

Snorting softly, he crossed his arms and allowed his eyes to rest on the other. The only thing that was making Bro feel somewhat awkward around him was that weird chose of clothing. Hell, he wasn’t much better with a Rainbow Dash hoodie, white collared shirt, black jeans, and black sneakers, but at least it was still a fashion sense.

"I have no fuckin’ clue what yer talkin’ ‘bout or why ‘m ‘ere, but name’s Bro, Bro Strider, pleasure ta fuckin’ meetcha." Might as well try to be nice, it wasn’t like he was going to really be going anywhere soon.

[that20sboy]

Joe drew his hand back and his smile went a little bemused. "You know, Mister, I've been hearing that a bit lately. Well, not that it's much here or there. Nice to meet you, Bro. Odd name, but not the oddest."

He shook his head a bit. Nope, no worries, he was not thinking about the kid from last night and his weird gadget. New night, new visitor. He wondered a bit if this was going to be a regular thing now. The clothing was even stranger than the kid's but hell, who was he to question a dandy's style? Still, who ever'd gotten that picture on must be damn fine with a brush.

Crossing his own arms, Joe just latched on to his cheer and kept it up best he could. "This is the Ring. We've got three fights planned, then a freefer with double or nothing on the challenger's side. You're free to drop whatever bets you like, but Lefty's a baby grand and Malone's liable to get balled up."

[that20sboy]

((Because I am a total goober, I put togther a good playlist instead of just one song XD And I know only I'll probably listen to it because I'm already a fan of irish jigs and ragtime, but oh well...)

[that20sboy]

((There we go. Finished getting the slang together. If I missed something, somebody tell me so I can add it. XD Some things I didn't bother with because I think they're still in the same use but I could be wrong!))

[that20sboy]

(( Realized it might be useful to put up a list of the slang Joe uses, for the muns' sakes XD So I'll be working on that.))

[that20sboy]

Enter the Ring +7

[tangentialgodhead-deactivated20]

You were about to comment on the whole Dad situation- but not before deciding it probably wasn’t apropos, and anyways, you yourself knew pity was usually one of the worst things you could offer to people, it just sounded so fake, so instead, when he comes over to peep at your phone, you promptly hold it out towards him to hold. Of course, you’re still carefully holding it, because from the look on his face, he looks like he’s about to explode at the seams with confusion. There’s a little smug smile on your face, and you really shouldn’t, because it’s not his fault if he’s never seen anything like it before- but it’s a dream, and be damned if you’re not going to take the chance to introduce him to addictive apps and also get him to read Siddalee’s story. 

“‘s a phone,” You say vaguely, using your other free hand to wave around in a dismissive manner. “You can play games on it, or like, read, or surf the internet, or call people- cept I don’t think I can get reception here, much less wifi. ‘ve got a couple of apps you can play without an internet connection, an’ the eBooks ‘ve downloaded-” you take a quick peep at the battery, it’s full, so that’s good. “And you have to like, charge it, but you should be good for a while. More than enough time to read Sidda’s story.” It’s a short book after all, at least for you- because although you don’t read frequently, when you do, you normally devour tomes large enough to break hands with.

"It’s okay, it ain’t gonna bite or nothin’. The uh, glow is normal too. Do you want me to turn it down? Because I can do that, just gotta go to the setting pages. I mean, ‘s kind of turned down low ‘cause my eyes hurt a lot if there’s too much light, hence these puppies-" and you clink your fingernail against your shade’s lenses, before pushing the phone at him a little more insistently. "Jus’ don’t drop it, okay?" 

Your accent seems to be fading away from realms of ridiculous to normality, because the guy seems kind of cool. You can relate to the whole parents thing, (partially why you don’t consider them family anymore, along with a bundle of other negative reasons- Bro’s your only relative, as far as you’re concerned and care, you wouldn’t have it any other way) and he seems a decent enough guy if he didn’t turn you out on your ass. Plus, it’s kind of hilarious how shocked he seems, it’s just an Iphone. 

“Works on electricity, not witchcraft or nuttin, I ain’t the kind yanno? Albino shtick and what not, might kind of look sort of freaky odd- even though ‘s more baby easter pale blonde than white, and tha’ ties into the whole shades deal, and light sensitivity, plus other ailments along the terms of weak as shit eyesight and sunburns, but I ain’t no majyyker. ‘s more of like, John’s shtick. He can play some cool parlor tricks, but I like it better when he plays the piano for me.” The smile on your face brightens a little bit as you remember the various tunes and noodling around on the pianos your best friend’s played for you, both on his baby grand, and on his little keyboard. 

"He’s real good at that. Me? I like my turntables, or my guitar a lot better- but piano seems real classy. Like listenin’ to it, coz he can make it all like, ethereal an’ light an’ floaty an’ make you imagine up fae folk and little pixies and dust, or he can make it all heavy and stormy, like the ocean, you know? John’s good at that, he’s good at a lot of things." You pause, before tilting your head a little bit to the right.

"D’ya play anything?" 

[that20sboy]

A phone? Like a telephone? It doesn't look like any kind of telephone you've lain eyes on, like the one in Petrov's office. Where's the line? The receiver? The... everything! You don't see how this little box could be at all useful. There's nothing to it. How the hell could that be a telephone?

"How would you get hold of the operator at the switchboard?" you ask helplessly, feeling like he's trying to get one over on you. It just doesn't make any sense at all. And games? Reading? That sounds even more ridiculous, but you keep seeing the screen change and flow. It... Where is this kid from?

Is he actually telling the truth? Is he from the future? You have no idea what to think but trying to make sense of this tiny little thing in his hands as a telephone just can't be done. Everything you know about technology (which is less concrete and more science fiction novels) says this isn't possible. But maybe it will be. That at least is something you can accept. 

"The... The, uh, glow is just... aces." You feel like an idiot but you can't stop staring at the phone now residing in your hands. You know you could break it easily if you're not careful so you handle it as delicately as possible. It's so light, you barely feel it. You flip the thing in your hands, trying to make sense of it, and you just can't. It's like you're seeing something out of Looking Backward or Tik-Tok of Oz. No cord, but it still somehow works? How? Electricity, but no hardwire? It shouldn't work. Everything you know says it shouldn't work. But it seems to be doing just fine. And... Huh.

You're grinning. Your whole face lights up with wonder. Shouldn't work but it does and that is absolutely jake. 

"I don't know what a turntable is, but I play a little of the ivory keys," you mention as you fiddle with the thing, figure out the flick you need to make the words move up the screen so you can scan over more. It's a story, you get that much, but you're a little too excited about the whole thing to really read it yet. "The cinema pays good money to a player that can read the scores. My mom taught me when I was little. Makes me feel close to her."

You pause because you hadn't actually meant to say that but it slipped out anyway. You don't like talking about your mother. It makes you miss her and be more bitter at your father, and you don't generally have time to delve into those kinds of feelings.