Sarah Joins A Fite Club - Part One

(I was intrigued by Deleter's idea of a "Fite Club" that allows for the writing of action scenes without it being life and death or requiring 50 pages of plot or whatever. I decided to try my hand at one with a different setting, cast, and rules to Del's. In particular, the club is based on a favorite game of mine - one that is very 90s - and it's also based on professional wrestling, another fun 90s thing. I hope this isn't ripping you off or anything, Del. If you'd prefer I didn't make my own version of a fite club I'll just make this a standalone thing and try something else come the actual RP.)

-The Streets of Manhattan-

Sarah's large blue eyes darted back and forth nervously, her small body cowering under a large white umbrella. This was a fairly rough part of the city, but Widow Maker's directions claimed her destination was nearby.

There.

Widow Maker stood , one claw shielding her eyes as she scanned the street. Her bulbous eyes alit on Sarah, and she brightened.

"There you are. What kept you?"

"I was just going slowly. I didn't want to get lost."

Widow Maker nodded. "Understandable. Maybe I should've escorted you. Ah well. C'mon in."

The mantis opened the door.

At first glance, the building seemed to be a cafe or lounge. Potted plants in the corners spruced up the place, as did landscape paintings on the walls. A small radio on the bar countertop was playing a radio station that was airing relaxing jazz music. If Zephyrus had seen this place, he'd be more impressed than he had been with the seedy dive he'd stumbled upon earlier.

Behind the bar, a tall man with a fine mustache was polishing glasses. Sitting on the stool nearest him was a blonde with a glass of fine wine she sipped elegantly, wiggling the glass in one gloved hand and watching the wine swirl between sips.

Sarah looked around, confused. There were several other people here, but none were as well-dressed or classy-looking as the blonde woman. In fact, most of them looked like the sort of street thugs they'd had to deal with from time to time. They didn't seem terribly friendly, but oddly enough they also weren't intimidated by Widow Maker. The eight-foot mantis usually tended to get the attention of "normal people".

"Ah, don't worry, Sarah. They won't hurt you as long as I'm here."

Sarah scooted closer to Widow Maker.

The blonde looked over at the sound of Widow Maker's voice. "Oh! Hello there, Widow Maker."

"Hey, Electra. I brought a friend today."

"Hmm."

Electra was clearly unimpressed with Sarah. She stared at the little white mage, raising her glass to her face and taking another swig of wine. "I didn't know you ate humans, Widow."

"What?" Widow Maker shook her head. "No, Electra, this is a friend of mine. Name's Sarah Triden."

"That's nice... wait, Triden? She related to that theme park?"

"She founded it."

"Ah."

Sarah brightened a little.

"So why did the owner of that ramshackle carnival show up here?"

Sarah looked downcast again.

"Electra, lay off the bitch act, will you? Sarah wants to prove her worth in the ring."

Unfortunately, since Widow Maker chose to say this at the same time Electra was taking another sip of wine, seconds later the mantis was sputtering and wiping wine off of her eyes. The bartender, his expression unreadable, handed the mantis a towel. Electra was laughing - a holier-than-thou laugh of a very fancy woman who was exceedingly amused.

"Oh, Widow! You've always been a joker, but this is the best! April Fools Day is tomorrow, dear! You can't seriously be suggesting this little marshmallow girl can fight, can you?!"

Sarah blushed and looked down at her feet. Widow Maker wasn't amused, and glowered at Electra. "She sure as hell can. You should know not to judge people by appearances, Electra. I figured since this place was able to accept a non-human like me that it'd be open to all sorts of unconventional guests."

Electra, still smiling, flipped her long hair. "Ah, of course. How rude of me. Sorry, dear. So you wanted to fight?"

Sarah slowly nodded. Widow Maker leaned in.

"Sarah, the first time is always the hardest. You gotta prove your worth if you want to get any respect. So show some backbone, all right? Let's see some of that good ol' Sarah spunk!"

"O-okay."

Sarah looked the woman in the eye (Electra's other eye was covered by her hair) and nodded much more confidently.

"I'd like to fight somebody to test my strength."

"Well, how about me, then?"

Widow Maker cocked an antenna. "You? Shouldn't she start with someone less skilled, like Donovan?"

"Widow, she doesn't have to win. She only has to prove she's worth having. So how about it, Sarah?"

Sarah gulped, then nodded.

"A-agreed."

"Excellent. Barbon, be a doll and make sure nobody takes my stool."

The bartender nodded affirmative, still polishing glasses, as Electra slid off her stool. "Come on, then, Sarah. Let's go."

Sarah and Widow Maker followed Electra to the back of the cafe. She grabbed one of the potted plants with her right hand and managed, with a bit of difficulty, to begin unscrewing it.

Sarah tilted her head. "Um, if you used both hands-"

Widow Maker cut Sarah off with a frantic gesture, Electra shooting the white mage a look before returning to her task.

Eventually she unscrewed the top off the artificial plant. Hidden inside was a button, which she pressed. The wall opened up, and Electra strolled on through after replacing the top of the plant.

Sarah looked at Widow Maker in confusion. "Why is this place so hidden?"

Widow Maker shrugged. "Because it's cool? There's no law against fite clubs, so I don't get it either."

They followed Electra.

-Secret Arena-

This secret room was about the size of the cafe. It was dominated by a large four-sided wrestling ring. Electra strolled up to it, grabbed onto the top rope with her right hand, and flung herself gracefully up and over. When she reached the center, she turned and looked at Sarah. Sarah carefully climbed the steps and slid into the ring between the bottom and middle ropes. Electra smirked.

"So do you have a weapon, Sarah?"

"Um..." Sarah drew her Mythril Hammer. "Is this acceptable?"

Electra regarded the hammer with interest. "Not bad! Yes, that'll do nicely. Here's my weapon - don't be frightened, now."

Electra removed the glove on her left hand.

Electra didn't have a left hand.

As Sarah stared at the odd metallic rod where Electra's left hand should have been, a thin cord began extending from the rod's tip. In seconds, Electra had assumed a battle stance, her right hand clutching the whip that extended from her left arm.

Then Sarah, too, assumed position, raising her hammer.

"The rules are," Electra stated, "that you lose if your opponent gets a pin or if you're knocked unconscious. Widow, you're referee - and no funny business in favor of the marshmallow, all right?"

Widow Maker nodded, rolling her eyes at the insult.

"Let's see what this little girl can do."

Widow Maker raised a claw. "Ready...

FIGHT!"

(As Hella Jeff would say... "TO BE COCTINUED!")