((Oh hallo there! Nice to meet you, I'm a gamer in LA! Woop pardon me I would like some extra EXP even if it's only three ANYWAYS HOW DO YOU DO?Hope I'm not breaking any rules by posting!! Anyways, I'll post Shaddy's stuff in different ways, some from an outside looking in, some as internal monologues yadda yadda.))
Degenerate.
Drop Out.
Freak.
You know. That kind of person. The kind of kid who grew up with only a father, a missing mother, and all the creeps and dirt of New York coming in and out of the place of living all of his life. The sort of people you wouldn't want around your impressionable child. But if you knew Charles, you know that he was the sort that could not give two flying fucks about his brat child.
Shaddok was introduced to these…adventures during an odd time in his life, and the missions opened his eyes to a lot more than he was willing to admit. And now, because of the missions, he had more in his grasp than he could have ever hoped.
The tall man stepped slowly down the creaking wooden stairs, thin in an almost boney(Sp?) way, lanky, his mess of raven black hair hanging in his face, a cigarette poised on his lips. He was slowly unbuttoning his silk shirt as he moved, the cement basement before him filled with shirtless, shoe-less men all gathered in a circle.
Indeed, it was a scene reminiscent of that movie, Fight Club. Which was exactly what this was. A Fight Club. Men beating the shit out of one another for a pot of money that the leader held. They had to fight one another, in a competition, to win the pot. Everyone contributed at least five dollars to the pot. Everyone fought in rounds, and the last two remaining would duke it out.
Recently, not many people had been dying, which meant Shaddok had no bodies to dig up and sell, which meant he didn't have rent money. And with his Bastard father MIA again, he had to come up with some way to get money. And House Games had given him many openings and many new opportunities. He fished his wallet out of his pocket and dropped a handful of bills into the hat. He knew he would win, the only problem he would end up having is not killing someone. Which had been an issue in the past..
He hung his silk shirt on a nail on one of the banisters, sidling up to the group of sweating, beefy men, and pulling out his finger-less gloves from his pocket. He was listening, vaugly, as the leader spouted the same rules he had heard at other such Fight Clubs, and milldly waved his hand when the man called for all those who would participate. He gave his last name only, his first would raise to many questions, and if anyone were to ask him about it he would not hold back in really hurting them. It was safest this way. For them.
They were broken up into three groups of ten. Each group had an observer, who would keep track of who kicked whos ass and who came out on top of each group. Then they were picked at random into the middle of the group, observers choice, and told the rules all over again. Shaddok was picked first, along with a thick armed shortty. Granted, Shaddok was nearing seven feet tall, everyone was short to him (except for his new roommate Makar). But this man was unusually short, and looked like he was compensating for this fact by going to the gym every single day.
He went down with a single punch to his jaw.
The next eight all went down in a similar fashion. To make it look good, he let a few of them hit him once or twice, none managing to do any damage to him, and holding back all of his strength to make everyone think he was just getting lucky. But the sad reality was, Shaddok was far more powerful than these simple beings were. He took them on one by one, and had to wait for the next group to finish.
The middle cluster had a man that met Shaddoks chin as a winner, with a square jaw and veins running the length of his arms and a tattoo on his breast that looked like a Marine/Army tattoo. Shaddok wasn't exactly aware of what the military buffs did or put on their bodies. But he made the fight look good.
He swung high, and Shaddok managed to duck out of the way, feeling the breeze through his hair, and swung his leg out, clipping the back of his shins and dropping him. He stepped back, letting the man stand before going at him again. He swung high, and the man tried to dodge, but wasn't fast enough and was clipped on the tip of his chin. It was enough to send the mans head backwards and him staggering. Blood leaked from his mouth, and he seemed dazed. Shaddok took the chance and brought his fist down over his cheek, sending him spinning to the ground.
Thankfully he was just out cold. But before Shaddok could even stand there was a yell and a heavy body plowing into him. Apparently, the other group had their winner, and he wasn't waiting for the observers to say 'go'. The attack took Shaddok off guard, but it did little to help his new opponent. He reached his arms around and pryed the man off himself, lifted him,and threw him down hard into the cement. There was a sickening crack, and with his eyes Shaddok could see in the dim that the cement floor had cracked. The man was out cold. He'd over done it. A new record, last time he had over done it was in the very first round.
One of the observers knelt and felt the pulse of the man, and motioned that he was out cold, but not dead. No one noticed the crack in the cement under his body. The owner walked over and handed Shaddok the pot, congratulated him, and the night was over.
With the four Fight Clubs Shaddok had visited over the week, he had made enough to make rent this month. Enough money to eat. But did it really matter? House Games had given him powers, abilities, and strength that he could never have dreamed. He could take anything he wanted, kill anyone he wanted. He could do anything he wanted.
As he drove home he found himself thinking again, something he hated to do, about everything he had learned in the past year. He had learned about what his father really was, some insight into who his mother might have been, and about what existed in this world. All the people who had visited when he was growing up suddenly made a bit more sense now. And his fathers random showing up back at the apparent, his absences, and the mysterious money that came to pay rent every other month.
The Adventures was seeming to have a bigger part in Shaddoks life then he originally thought.
