bakerstreet | THE FIGHT MEME

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THE FIGHT MEME

THE (august) FIGHT MEME

What else needs to be said? Release your inner warrior and partake in some epic (or hilariously bad) battles! Do you use a sword? Are you a martial arts master? Are you a wizard? Can you even fight?

It doesn't matter if you're just having a friendly spar or deciding the fate of the universe. You're suddenly filled with the urge to fight the next person you meet. Cut loose and show off your skills!

RULES

◘ Post with your character! List your fighting preferences if you'd like (Sparring, Death Battles, Anything Goes, etc.)
◘ Reply to someone else
◘ ROUND 1...
◘ ... FIGHT!

Here are some prompts to pick from (or RNG from):

1: VERBAL
Not all fights are physical. Maybe you're just really mad and really loud.

2: WUSSY
This is possibly the dumbest limp-wristed flail fight you've ever been involved in.

3: WITS
Because why would you beat someone into the ground when you can humiliate them with your massive intellect instead?

4: PRIZEFIGHT
There's an audience to watch and a prize at stake that only one of you can walk away with. Best bring your A-game.

5: SPARRING
You're fighting to improve. Whether you know your partner or whether you've
just met, you can be pretty sure you're walking away from this one.

6: GRUDGE MATCH
Your hated rival is in town. It's time for a rematch.

7: BAR FIGHT
Welcome to the mother of all drunken brawls.

8: YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS!
Maybe your opponent is your friend/sibling/love/other cherished person. Maybe
you're a pacifist. Either way, you're in this fight, but you really
don't want to be.

9: TO THE DEATH
This is it. Too much has happened for this to be anything but a fight to the end. Only one of you is walking away from this.

10: OBLIGATORY SMUT OPTION
Hate sex is the best. And some people like smut and some do not.

11: AGAINST THE HORDE
It's you and your ally against many. Demons, zombies, whatever. Rip and tear, until it is done.

12: GODMODE
You and your opponent both have world-breaking superpowers, and frankly everyone would be happier if you weren't fighting. You are, though, and it's awesome, even if there might not be much left when you're done.

13: RANDOM
Your very own personalized scenario.

Original here.

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It was a grudge, but it wasn't personal and the information would check out. Guy was a drug kingpin and had the police records to back it up. However, despite having the files, law couldn't touch him behind lots of patsies and good operation protocols, which was why the Sinnerman decided to make the move instead.

Marcus took a moment to give the man who drove up a glance. When it didn't seem like he was some random bored customer trying to make conversation, he shrugged. "Everyone needs to eat. You here to pick something up?"

What Marcus wasn't aware of was that he was being watched from across the street. That his men weren't all that loyal after all, and now that the Sinnerman had moved towns, the ones under him thought it was a good opportunity to take out the old for a new shift in power. Maybe take up the Sinnerman mantle as they thought he had from his predecessor. Who would have guessed he was the original Sinnerman.

Booker crossed his arms over his chest and scanned the parking lot. No one posted on top of the buildings he could see. Looked like an actual drop of information and nothing more. Not that an ambush would keep him down for long but it was better to be careful.

"Yeah, got an order pick up." He nodded his chin towards the paper bag. He hoped the size of it was fluff and there was a flash drive in there somewhere. That much paper information was a bitch to move around. Drives were so much easier.

He held out a hand. "Looks like you got mine."

He would very much like his information so that he could leave. This wasn't supposed to be a friendly chat or an op breakdown to convince Andy. Booker wanted the info and to disappear into the city again.

There was in fact no USB drive in there, mainly because it was easier to photocopy paper than to try to copy encrypted police data. The digital world was moving too fast for an ancient guy like him.

"Main order well done, side order of crispy fried." Marcus was about to hand the information over when a squeal of burning wheels had him turn towards the street.

It was just in time for him to see men he recognized -his men- lean out of a beat up blue chevy with machine guns and opened fire on the two of them. Glass shattered from the rental, bullet holes peppered the car and bike alike.

Ah hell.

Three slugs took him in the chest, another in the leg, and he toppled over onto the pavement. He was dead when the traitors got out of the car to make sure the job was done.

There was no time to dive for cover. They were being shot before the car was level with them. Booker cursed under his breath as bullets slammed into his chest. One went clean through his neck and he was gone before he hit the pavement.

Only to be back maybe three, four minutes later. Booker sucked in a wheezing breath. The holes in his chest weren't all healed yet but he still managed to get enough air to stay conscious.

He saw men standing close, talking about what they'd do next. Booker braced his hands, muscles tensed and then he leapt up. His body still hurt like hell but he grabbed the closest guy and snapped his neck with a violent twist.

Booker took his gun and focused in on the fight. Leave no witnesses and survive. Those were his only goals.

Marcus gasped in his first breath when the fighting already started. Blood still ran from his wounds but he was sitting already, and noticing that the mercenary was already making short work of the three who had gotten out of the car.

That still left the driver in the car, who seemed to have noticed that their hit targets were still alive and was frantically trying to start it.

Marcus didn't intend to give him that opportunity. Getting up with a groan, he closed the distance with two long strides and was yanking the man out of the car before he could go anywhere. For his efforts he suffered a shot to his stomach, which enraged him only all the more before he karate chopped the bastard's neck and watched him choke to death on a broken larynx.

When he turned though, he saw the other three were dead as well, and the man he had intended to hire still had his gun out. Bloody signs from being shot peppered him the same way they did Marcus, and the lieutenant's eyes narrowed when those clearly didn't add up. He nodded warily at the gun. "You don't have enough bullets in there for me."

Booker wasn't stupid. Even in the middle of a fight he noticed another guy get up and drag the driver through the window. It was enough of a distraction to make him take a punch to the solar plexus. Booker broke the guy's arm before he killed him.

Then he was faced with the guy trying to hire him. Booker licked his lips, tasting blood. He had a gun in his hands but there was an uneasy feeling in his gut that it wouldn't do shit.

"Judging from the holes in your shirt you should be dead," he said with caution. "But you're not. That a new condition?"

Had he stumbled upon another one? Should they be looking for more? But he hadn't dreamed of this guy. Ever.

Marcus had never met another cursed one like himself. He didn't know why he was surprised when he really shouldn't be, but he was. Always he had thought he was unique in his curse, but being the first didn't mean he had to be the last.

Searching blue eyes ran over the other man like he was a new species. By the bloodstains on the mercenary's skin and clothes, Marcus would guess the man had the same affliction as he himself had.

"I could say the same for you." He considered for a moment before shaking his head. "How long for you?" Was the guy someone in the bible too? Not that it mattered, that book was a load of propaganda crap that they came up with two thousand years ago. It really didn't mean much.

The guy didn't seem like a threat but Booker didn't relax his guard. After all these years he didn't trust easily even someone who seemed to be immortal like him.

"Two hundred years." Roughly. Not very long in terms of immortality but that left plenty of time for him to keep on living when he shouldn't. "Where are you?"

The trouble with immortality was you couldn't tell age by looking at someone. Booker looked older than the others because he had been when he died. Constantly middle aged was great.

"If a certain book is to be believed, about six thousand years," Marcus answered. It was the only clue of time he had back then, he certainly wasn't keeping track of days. It could have been longer, probably not less though.

Glancing around at the bodies on the ground, Marcus grimaced, then again when that agitated his healing wounds. Since he was still bleeding, he zipped up his jacket to at least minimize the visuals.

"We should get out of here... Clean up." He hesitated to leave though, not quite wanting to give up this tenuous meeting with someone who was so similar to himself. Two hundred years was but a blink compared to him, but this was still something. It was the first time in a while that he wanted to reach out and actually connect with someone, possibly someone who wouldn't eventually die like everyone else. "Meet up again? I... want to talk."

Six thousand wasn't a shock. Andy was that old but she had never mentioned anyone that looked like this guy. Lykon was dead. This guy was new to him and maybe new to the others. Would he break exile for this? And ask?

"Tomorrow morning. Eight. The Lakefront Restaurant." Booker licked his lips as he completely lowered his gun. It wasn't like the guy could kill him and he was probably just as desperate to protect his secret as Booker was. "I'll meet you there."

He left the gun on the ground with the dead men and then got in his car which he would have to ditch. There was no way to hide the bullet holes.

Tomorrow morning he'd meet him at that semi-famous Chicago landmark for conversation if the guy showed up. Booker wasn't sure if he would.

"I'll be there."

Cleaning up meant more than just a change of clothes. There were 4 bodies and Marcus had to make sure there were no CCTVs in the area that could place him or his buddy at the scene of crime. That was why he chose the spot in his own district, and he had good authority to access things when this eventually got called in. But that was for the future, now, he just made sure he picked the right paths that would keep him out of traffic cams.

Next morning, 8 AM, Marcus was there at 7:30AM, expecting that his companion might be there early as well. There were plenty of people there already, tourists, the morning group of breakfasters before the rush hour. He glanced around to see if he could locate the other man, and if he couldn't, then Marcus took an outdoor table for two.

Booker was there at seven. The outdoor restaurant left him plenty of routes for escape and though it took some courage he sent an email to Copley to say he had a meeting that might go bad. In the back of his mind he hoped Copley said something to the others but he couldn't make himself believe it would matter to them.

Exile was exile.

He sat back with his eyes watching everything around him. It was a nice morning and his waitress was very kind about him waiting for someone for a long, long time. He would tip well for that.

Booker tensed when he stopped the man from last night. Alright, he had shown up. Now they'd talk.

Marcus wouldn't have suggested the meet if he hadn't intended to follow through. He wasn't surprised to see that the stranger was there already either. After all, he had heard this guy was a good one, which was why Marcus as Sinnerman had decided to outsource his Chicago druglord problem to him. The guy being an immortal though, that was truly something unexpected.

When he found him sitting there on one of the tables on the outskirts he walked over, pulling a chair out and joining him without waiting to be invited.

"Coffee?" He asked, trying to make small talk as he waved a hand for someone to take his morning order. He had taken half a day off at work, although he expected he'll be busy when he returned with the quadruple homicide that they were a part of yesterday. He wore a new jacket today, and beneath his shirt, he was still bandaged up.

There wasn't a single mark on Booker. He looked whole and hearty, like he hadn't been riddled with bullets last night. His body had healed the damage minutes after it happened.

"Already have some." He gestured to the cup to his left which he had poured whiskey in shortly after the waitress left it. "I'm sure the waitress will be here in a minute."

There weren't many other people around at this early hour which was the point at meeting now. Less people would overhear the conversation about to happen.

"So, you're immortal."

Maybe God had changed up the curse, maybe He perfected it to the way he wanted it, but Cain's immortality didn't heal quite as quickly as the other did. But he was still very thoroughly immortal, a fact that was proven through time and trials.

"So are you."

At that point the waitress came over and Marcus ordered a coffee and their house special, barely glancing at the menu or the woman before handing it back to her with a slight nod. The man before him had his full attention the whole time. As soon as she left, their conversation resumed.

"So what did you do to get cursed?"

"I died. It didn't take." Booker wasn't going to lay his whole life story at the guy's feet. "That's it. I woke up from death. Nothing more complicated than that."

Immortality was something of a curse for him. Booker hated the weight of the years and the grief he felt constantly in the back of his mind and heart. It had certainly led him to ruin.

"That's not how it was for you?"

"That's what immortality is, yeah." But reminding himself that he wasn't trying to push this guy away like the others, Marcus tried to dial back his negativity and sarcasm and answer the question. But like the man, he wasn't ready to give all the facts yet either. Another immortal could either be his friend... or end up being his worst enemy.

"Someone upstairs didn't like something I did. As far as I know, that's the story since. It's been a while, things got a little hazy."

Again they were interrupted with the waitress coming back with Marcus' coffee, and asked if the other wanted a refill. Marcus waited until she left to continue.

"So, can I get a name? I go by Marcus now."

Unfortunately, that was the only answer Booker had. He just didn't die. The sarcastic response only got a roll of his eyes. He was used to a little sarcasm and traded barbs though that was with family not a stranger.

"If that's all it took, we'd have a lot more running around." He smiled warmly at the waitress and nodded for her to refill his coffee. If she picked up on the tension between the two men she didn't show it.

Marcus. "Booker," he said with a small nod. "You seem to be living something of a normal life."

"For me, the big guy didn't like someone setting a precedent case," Marcus explained, although it would probably be lost on the young immortal without knowing Cain's full identity. And that he wasn't quite ready to share just yet.

"I don't know about others... didn't know I wasn't the only one until, well, yesterday." Again, despite how guarded both men were, there was genuine awe in Marcus' tone when he talked about that discovery. "In all my wandering..." He shook his head, shaking away with it the melancholy that followed.

"And you've made a name for yourself. We all need to keep going somehow."

Joe and Nicky still had their faith so Booker wasn't completely surprised that another immortal would still have faith as well. Blaming this whole thing on God made as much sense as anything else in this fucked up situation.

"You didn't have dreams?" That was unusual. Booker had never heard of an immortal not having dreams about the others. But... he hadn't dreamed of Marcus all these years and as the youngest he should have.

He had enough dreams of drowning to almost be grateful he never dreamed of Marcus. "I made a name being a mercenary. You have a day job."

If Booker only knew, Marcus lost his thousands of years ago. His case was a little irregular anyway. Not that there was anything regular about any of this.

"What dreams?" Now it was Marcus who looked confused, his brows furrowing slightly as he wondered what the other immortal meant by that.

"Yeah, I move around a lot. It's..." He shrugged when the waitress came back with his breakfast. He thanked her and waited until they were left alone before continuing. "It's just doing something." Because what else was he going to do otherwise? So he continued to pretend to live like a normal person even when it was no more real than the rest of his identity was.

Booker licked his lips. He didn't want to talk about the others even though Marcus was immortal. Perhaps he was a little gun shy after betraying them all the Merrick but it felt like a step in the wrong direction.

"I knew of one other immortal. Trapped at the bottom of the ocean. I dreamed of her drowning over and over." Now, he had no loyalty to Quyhn. He would happily throw her under a bus without hesitation. "That's how we found each other but she's gone now. Disappeared and I don't dream of her anymore."

After two hundred years that was a relief. Booker hated those dreams and how they constantly plagued him. It didn't help him sleep at night at all.

"Just... never met another who didn't have dreams. She dreamed of me." Booker was confused by his lack of dreams. If he was that old then he should've dreamed of them all before.

"There was another?" Perhaps Booker was wise to not disclose about the others because Marcus' eyes definitely sharpened at the mention of another immortal until it was revealed she was stuck at the bottom of an ocean. His eyes unfocused over slightly at distant memory. "For how long?" He wondered, unaware he had even asked that aloud, until he saw the way Booker looked at him.

He cleared his throat. "No... never had dreams of anyone else," Marcus confirmed, finally taking a sip of his black coffee to wet his lips. "If I had, I might have... I don't know, done something. Met sooner. I never met someone who didn't die normally." And from the way he said it, he considered that to be their blessing.

Oh, yeah, he wouldn't mention the others now. While he could understand longing for company after years alone he didn't like that Marcus had never shared dreams about them. Was he something different from them? Was that possible?

"I don't know how long. I've dreamed her for as long as I've been immortal." Oh, he knew but Booker wasn't going to say. That was too long and too much information. He wouldn't be able to handle it if he put the others in danger again.

"Well, we've met now." He smiled sardonically. "I'm not really sure what to do about that."

Honestly, neither did Marcus. He sat back, as if the question caught him off guard and he never really thought about it either. The man was too young, and from the sound of it had no new information to offer that Marcus himself didn't already know.

He wanted to talk, they talked, but it was like he hadn't actively tried to make a connection with someone for so long he wasn't sure what he should be doing either.

"Do you want to.... keep in touch?" he asked, because a hundred, two, maybe even a thousand years down the line, he might want to see that familiar face.

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