Post by "The Fabulous One" Dan Fierce on Feb 28, 2016 10:19:30 GMT -5
Grimm Circumstances - Part Two
January 20, 2016 8:43 P.M.
The three men bookending the entrance to the Owl and Eel in Hangtown snickered aloud in unison as Dan approached, as if sharing a seductive secret that only the trio were privy to. The tallest one, a muscle-bound blond man with a military issue haircut, leaned against the jam of the door with his arms crossed. He sneered his disgust through the gritted teeth clutching a cigarette the closer Dan came to the entrance.
It had become almost a reflex throughout his vast wresting career for Dan to use the majority of his opponents' discomfort with his sexuality to his advantage. During his training in his adoptive father's dojo, he was taught that getting inside his foe's mind was an easy way to cause them make sloppy mistakes. Those missteps would give him an edge. Growing up in a rural town in the Midwest, prior to his running away to the West Coast at the age of twelve, also taught him that men who grew up in conditions similar to Hangtown caused them to lash out at anything unfamiliar or different. It was a gamble he took often when faced with men such as these.
The two men flanking the man Dan assumed was their "leader" stood in parroted poses, perhaps showing solidarity for their unknown and thinly veiled cause, perhaps just to kiss up to the gorilla who lead them, shook their heads.
"Dan gon' get himsef' killed, boo," exclaimed Nina from the back seat of the powder blue Prius she, Dan's partner Brian, and the Fabulous One himself had rode into the forgotten burgh in. "Should we get out and help?"
Brian watched nervously from the front seat, never shaking his glare from the unfolding situation. "No. Dan can handle these three." His voice was shaken, yet confident, the voice of experience. "I've seen what he can do."
"But they's t'ree of dem," the ebony drag queen added, her Creole accent shining through like beacon of country bumpkin tongue.
"I know," started Dan, a trickle of nervous sweat running down his face. "But if we go out there, we'll get in his way. We may even make things worse unintentionally. Let's sit here for now. If it looks like things are getting out of hand, then we can get involved."
"I don't know none o' dat karate bullshit," Nina interjected, "But I got me an equalizer right cheer." She produced a gun big enough to give Dirty Harry a raging boner.
Brian got wide-eyed at the weapon. "Keep that out of sight unless we really need it," he warned. They both decided to sit in dumbstruck silence as Dan closed in the distance to the bar entrance. Brian and Nina both cracked their windows, allowing the crisp winter air access to the inside of the compact car, listening to the situation, just in case.
The leader let out a mocking wolf whistle as Dan approached, causing Dan to smile knowingly as swish his hips in a playful response. "Hey there, princess. Where do you think you're going?" He stepped between Dan and the doorway, a menacing grin across his face. "We don't let girls in the Owl and Eel."
Dan placed his hands on his hips, his own smile spreading wide as he peeked a glance past the wall of a man in front of him. There were plenty of women inside, most of them keeping pace with the men drink by drink. His smile morphed into a smirk. "Honey, I'm a queen, not a princess. I outrank those bitches. Every. Day." He finished his claim with a snap that only incited mocking laughter. "I'm here to meet someone. Now be a peach and step aside."
"Oh, a QUEEN?" he cajoled, his cohorts joining in his antagonizing of the newcomer. "I'm sorry, your highness." Malice burst from his eyes as he bent down to close the few inches in difference in height between Dan and himself. Coming nearly nose-to-nose, he spat his butt to the ground with a shower of sparks upon impact. "We still don't let YOUR kind through these doors."
Dan took a step back, making sure to mentally note the position of the two henchmen without losing eye contact with the head man. "You sure you wanna do this, sweetie? It'd be a shame to bruise up that country boy appeal." The man grimaced as he nodded slowly in agreement. "Then let's do it out here where we can't damage anything but your reputation, sugar." Dan motioned to the spacious middle of the dirt parking lot.
Dan's senses kicked into overdrive as he slowly turned his back to the trio without losing the track of their whereabouts. When he was in his "battle mode," his training had taught him to take in everything. The clatter of beer bottles and mugs in the growing distance, the sudden shift in chatter of the crowd clambering to the windows and outside for a ringside view of the impending altercation, the... mandolin music?
The air wasted no time in giving away his adversary's wide swing at Dan from behind. Without turning to face the bruiser, Dan side-stepped the move, allowing the brute's inertia to carry him forward unexpectedly. Sticking out a foot, Dan tripped the man, bringing him to one knee in the dust. The henchmen began to rush to their boss' aid, but he waved them off as Dan slowly turned his full attention to his foe.
"Last chance, sweet cheeks," Dan jabbed. "We can call it good and have a beer, or we can keep going. Up to you. Just because I'm a girl at heart doesn't mean I can't dance with the boys when I want to." He wasn't sure, but his ears picked up on the unstopping picking at the strings of the mandolin closing in, as if the player was providing a soundtrack. Or perhaps he too was just observing. Dan didn't dare look away to find out at this point. He could feel the rage build in his nemesis as he slowly stood.
Dan slowly dropped into a defensive stance as all three men raised their fists in unison. The mandolin player, still enshrouded by shadows, his face obscured by the dim atmosphere, spoke to the guys flanking the larger man without ceasing his concerto. "Joe! Henry!" the gravelly voice pierced the air with authority. "If either of you two get involved, you'll answer to me."
The yes-men's eyes grew wide as saucers, turning slowly to the man who spoke. Horrified, they backed down quickly at the command. The brute cast a sideways glance at the madolinist. "Keep out of this. I'm going to teach this fudgepacker a lesson."
That was enough to cause the instrumental to pause, a hushed tension filling the air. "I'll make you a deal, Billy Bob. If you win, I'll buy your drinks all night long." The musician paused for effect. "If you lose," his voice trailed into a tone so malevolent that it caused chills to run down Dan's spine. "I'll make you disappear."
The gathered crowd stood in silence as the brute contemplated his potential fate, his anger now being overtaken by a palpable fright. He stood erect, his doubled fists relaxing under protest. He returned his glare towards Dan. "You're not worth it, fag."
Dan's face twitched in response to THAT word. Before he could stop himself, a spinning side kick connected to Billy Bob's temple, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. The combative brute lay in the dirt, a rather nasty looking goose egg already growing where Dan's foot had not-so-gently caressed him. Dan hung his head in shame for perpetuating a fight that seemed to have ended over simple verbage. "I. Hate. That. Word." He lifted his head to the crowd, a severe look in his eyes. "Anyone else feel like using that word?" The stunned audience stepped back at his glowering stare.
Tears began welling up in his eyes. Despite his training and his past as a mat gladiator, he truly abhorred violence, but that... that particular word brought back violent memories every single time. His heart sank in instant regret as he glanced over the unconscious foe. A single teardrop fell next to his fallen adversary, as it always did when he had engaged in unnecessary fighting. "Why did you have to say that?" he muttered under his breath as he wiped his eyes with a single thumb.
Dan bent down, grabbing up Billy Bob by the arm, assisting the dead weight up. His friends soon took the hint, helping Dan drag the sleeping giant into the bar. Propping his foe in the corner, he asked the bartender for an ice pack. He explained to the barbarian's attendees to keep it on the swelling before exiting the building once again. Dan walked calmly over to his car, popped the door ajar and rolled the windows up before removing the keys. Unable to make eye contact with his companions after the display, he simply stated, "It's safe to get out now. No one will touch us."
Nina slowly put her firearms away in her clutch. Dan instructed her to leave them in the car. "You sure 'bout that, baby?"
Dan's smile slowly returned, though not as brightly as before. "Yeah. They know not to mess with us now." He paused knowingly adding, "Plus I think I found my interviewee."
March 3, 2016
"I'm not even back in the ring for one fucking day before some dirty cooze is yanking the bitch right out of me. I was hoping I could at least get my feet wet before having to jump back into this thing, but NO!
"Enter a ghost from my past, Raven Hex. I should have known better than to let my guard down when you came a-knocking on my dressing room door, you stalking hooker. I should have guessed that you wouldn't be making a simple reminiscent social call.
"It doesn't matter why you're here. What matters is that you managed to take me down when I was dumb enough to let you in. Don't you worry, girlie. Momma's gonna ask the questions that need answering. Then I'm going to kick those venomous little teeth down your precious throat.
"When we meet at Trauma 188, Raven Hex, you'd better hope you can shake your ring rust quicker than I can mine, because that is the ONE thing that will save your scrawny ass from a beating you will absolutely NOT enjoy.
"I didn't even get to enjoy my returning victory with the Disco Stud before you rained on the parade." Dan stopped, the rage on his face evident. "It's okay, bitch. You're gonna be in front of me this time. If you're looking for a scrap, then momma will provide. In spades. I don't back down. I'll give you the Makeover you deserve.
"That's not just a promise. That's Fierce!"
