Unarmedjune70smokelumbers

After the fight between Kelris and Skulls, Smoke does not need to wait long before his entry fee is noted from the broker and there is a text back. « Your fight starts in 15 minutes. » Along with the location of another street in the Warrens that is on the north side and a picture of a grizzled man with a long, mangy beard.

Smoke motions to Kelris, "Looks like I am up man. Hop on back." He starts up the vintage Harley and flicks his cigarette into the gutter in a very non-hippy manner.

Kelris situates himself on the back of Smoke's bike and holds on, ready to get going. "Should get any bowing you wanna do done as soon as you get out there. I didn't have a chance." Kelris laughs.

Smoke weaves his way through the streets of the sprawl looking for the disignated site. He's quiet now, concentrating on what he's learned from his teacher. He gets a mental imprint of the picture of the man in the grizzled long mangy beard and is still holding it in his thoughts as they arrive.

There appears to be a common theme with a few of these fights— at least comparing Smoke's fight and Kelris' fight. As the two arrive on the scene, there is another large glob of people standing near where the destination of the fight should be. They are loud, rowdy, and its a bit of dejavu. Only thing that seens to change is the backdrop that they are in a different part of the Warrens. While the Warrens has it's own dead urban charm, even that looks similar after a while.

Smoke parks his bike and gets off the seat, taking a moment to light another cigarette. Since he sort of knows how this works now he whirls his arms a little, loosening up before approaching the circle. "Okay Kelris, just like when we practiced I hope." He stretches his legs and then hops a few times, getting his pocsec out "Go ahead and bet five kay on me okay? I'll transfer the funds to your account now."

Kelris stands up off the back of the bike and slips his hands into his pockets, and he's just about to retort with, 'I'm broke-' when Smoke finishes his statement. He nods and grins to Smoke, wandering towards the mess of people and giving his friend two solid pats on the back. "Good luck. I'll send the bet in as soon as those odds come up."

Smoke nods to his friend and passes his cigarette to him. "Hold this for good luck." He grins and then shoulders his way through the crowd into the circle. His arms already coming up into guard position, with a slight slumped forward posture, he seems to be in stance as he clears the people.

Kelris takes the cigarette between two fingers as it's passed to him, chuckling, and working his way through the crowd with Smoke to find a close place to watch, careful not to thrust the lit smoke into anyone on his way through. His pocsec is held in his hand, and he waits.

Penetrating the circle leads to an open area where another man is there, already waiting. Waiting may not be accurate enough to say that he is already drinking. He has a large milk gallon jug in his hand with something foul. He chugs it as he waits— the crowd evidentally cheering at the event. When Smoke finally comes into his view, he lowers it and tosses it into the crowd. Flannel. Lots of flannel. In a past life he might have been a lumberjack. The man just grunts.

And with said grunt— the trideo pops on and the channel for betting.

Smoke studies his opponent carefully, watching his stance and how he holds his posture. He doesn't say a word, just taking one swipe to wipe the hair out of his face. He leans forward on the pads of his feet, the heavy boots sliding smoothly back and forth.

Kelris lifts his pocsec up into view and sets a bet for the fight once the channel is active. As soon as it's processed he pockets the equipment and locks his attentive eyes on the fight to come.

Smoke lurches forward, body bobbing side to side for a moment as he keys on the man's stance. He doesn't like the flannel and layers of it and assumes it is some sort of armor. Then he suddenly launches a front kick, heel angled up to strike the man's chin. The boot plants squarely into the man's face. And just as quickly Smoke does a half hop step backwards ready for a retalitory strike and getting into counter position. He doesn't seem to have to though, the man having dropped to the ground.

And just like that, the fight is over. The crowd lingers for a moment and hopes that the man gets up for a bit more— but all the entertainment that he was worth amounts to just the drinking. A few seconds of this go by before another text comes in: Congradulations. You advance to the next fight. And the same men in white come and drag the big guy away.

A harsh snicker escapes Kelris's lips and his head drops, and shakes side to side, just after the boot to the face. His eyes lift, and he lifts one brow towards his friend, waving him over.

Smoke studies the man quickly and then turns to Kelris, "Okay so now they'll probably get me set up with some damned Troll. That'll be just my luck." He grins and puts his hand out for what is left of his cigarette.

Kelris raises the cigarette to his own lips as the native comes closer, and he draws back a single drag. The taste brings old memories of passing sacred pipes, and sharing the awful aroma. He blows the smoke down, and up his friend's torso once, before handing the cigarette back over. "That was terrible." He congratulates, a wry grin accenting his words.

Smoke nods and grins, "Yeah my form was all off. I shoulda snap kicked him in the knee." he takes the cigarette and smiles. "Wonder when we are up next?"

"Dunno. Not sure if I'd ever made five-thousand in three seconds before, though." He laughs a little, and turns, moving towards Smoke's bike to linger until the new area to migrate is disclosed.

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