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"...Ennh." Bishop wailed as he slowly pulled himself off of his bed, making his body brutally hit the ground a moment later. "Ouch." The young man gritted his teeth as he rolled over, looking at his apartment's white ceiling. It was a decent residence, one that Bishop managed to rent at a reduced price thanks to a friend of a friend. The bachelor provided the bare necessities: liveable space to call one's own. He was still a bit dizzy, an understandable side effect of spending twenty-one hours in bed. Staying awake six days in a row would do that to one's body.
"Now then, where were we?" He asked himself, scratching his itchy cheek as it desperately cried out for a shave. Closing his eyes for a moment, he let his inner network of contradicting tendencies take a moment before deciding on what was on today's agenda.
==========Initializing Mir Forum========== ADMIN: Welcome to the Mir Forum! Play nice, try to get along. When you don't, I get migraines, and when I get migraines, I become trigger happy with my ban cannon. BLU: It is Sunday. May I suggest that we take things nice and slow before truly becoming active in Chula Vista? WHT: Setup... almost complete. Initial phase... nearing its end. BLK: But it wasn't entirely successful. The apathy of the Collective's students diminished the effect of the speech. RED: But we might be able to score a few allies online. Alice has put on some decent video footage, so she could be an amusing partner in online crime, and there's more than one angry bastard out there after what Navarro scored. Haha! I can't wait to set this stage on fire! BLU: All in due time. Right now, we need a cup of coffee. WHT: Affirmative. BLK: Obviously. RED: Time for a refuel! ==========Terminating Mir Forum==========
"Coffee it is." Bishop muttered as he got up and headed toward his bathroom, beginning his half-an-hour long morning grooming ritual.
Now, as a narrator, I could get into the details of him being in the nude while taking his shower and passing his sponge all over his battle hardened, scarred and tattooed body, his fingers firmly yet gently passing through his white mane as he peacefully smiled during this moment of total peace he enjoyed under the artificial miniature waterfall that was the showerhead, but then I risk having to hear a few of you squirm and scream once I get into the details, and those are sounds that I am in no mood of hearing today, so we'll skip to what happened after Bishop got his cup of freshly brewed, coarse, Columbian black coffee.
Cup in hand, Bishop walked out of the local coffee shop, blowing in some cool air onto the steaming hot liquid as he made his way to a nearby park. It was odd to see a bastard person like Bishop enjoying a peaceful Sunday afternoon, but here he was, dressed in a pair of plaid long shorts and a short-sleeved featureless white shirt, enjoying Californian weather without an apparent care for the world. That peace would come to an end though, when he arrived at the edge of the park. Before him stood a man who had managed to achieve a physical feat so impressive that Bishop actually put his cup down at his side so he would be able to applaud the man for displaying such amazing athletic talent - at the expense of a few dumbstruck fellows lying exhausted and drained around him. Grinning, Bishop vocalized what was on his mind.
"You, my good friend, reek of awesomeness."
OOC: Now what feat of awesomeness has Roth done? The stage is set, now be your bad ass self! Sorry for the lame post, I'm a bit rusty these days.
(ooc: I'm really sorry for the wait. I had this written a few days a go, but I got logged out and lost all of it.)
The weather today was perfect. The warm sun embraced the streets of Chula Vista as a tall figure in a long black matted trench coat was leaning against a tree reading one of his favorite books. Of Mice and Men, a tale perfecting the ambition of the American Dream. Everyone wanted a place to live peacefully and call there own. Roth would love that too, but today there was work to be done.
After the last page of the current chapter Roth closed his book giving his partners the signal. You see, Roth's job for today was to advertise his place of employment. Roth worked for a underground fighting company called SDCFL (formerly known as SDCW). They held all kinds of fights there. Wrestling, MMA, Cage, any type of fight you wanted to see.
After Roth had given the signal, it happened. A thin girl, in rather reveling clothing walked around the park preparing her self as the three other actor's came onto the stage. It would be a staged purse-napping. The three thugs had robbed the woman who was in on the plan, and Roth would make his move.
The tall figure with the dark trench coat watched the scene from the hill and waited for his chance. As the three "thugs" made away with the actresses purse Roth swooped down and made his move. With a great charge and a few light powered strikes the first "thug" was down. The other two starred in a false fear as Roth used a simple side kick to the jaw to take out the second "thug".
Only one remained as he ran off with the actresses purse in a sad attempted escape. Roth waited for his "victim" to get in position before he began his chase. Roth bolted of in the direction of the "thug" and leaped high into the air catching a branch of a tree that was pretested to support Roth's weight. Roth swung up and over the branch and flew at the "thug" who now turned to face the flying Irishman coming at him legs first. Roth opened his legs and implanted the "thugs head in between his thighs. With a quick shift of his weight Roth threw the " thug" about two yards away with his legs.
Jumping straight back up after landing in his knees, Roth walked over to the fallen "thug" and took the purse and returned it to the woman. Together they put on an act where Roth was made out to be a hero and advertised for SDCFL. It all ended with a romantic kiss from the actress as a hired cop "arrested" the three thugs.
As the crowd died down Roth wandered off into the park where he met an older looking Middle Eastern man who seemed to like the show that Roth has put on. Roth sat on the picnic bench with him, facing him to open up their conversation.
"Well, I am the most bad ass mother fucker alive." Roth laughed to himself as he sat and watched his new companion drink his hot drink. Roth assumed it was coffee but wasn't to sure. He looked like a good guy, sitting there enjoying the peace as Roth did.
(ooc: just so you know SDCFL = San Diego Championship Fighters League)
"Gotta give it to you, that's a well rehearsed piece."
Bishop said with a smirk as he took a seat beside the muscular man. As someone who specialized in deception and discord, the Iranian had become accustomed to this type of charade. More than once had he faked one of his clients or accomplice's - sometimes even his own - demise by preparing one of these spectacles. Movie magic wasn't his greatest specialty, but he still had sufficient skills in it to orchestrate a believable spectacle such as the one he had seen, though his usually involved more gunshots and/or explosions. Michael Bay just happened to be one of his major artistic influences. That being said, Mir took a sip from his bitter drink before releasing another satisfied sigh. Turning his head to look at the young man at his side, the lad smiled before complimenting him once more.
"I never thought I'd find spontaneous action-packed performances like these in the San Diego region!"
With a chuckle, he took note of the physical shape of his interlocutor. He certainly fit the role of the type of man one shouldn't mess with unless he or she was looking to spend the following week at the hospital. That was an ample warning for Bishop not to get on this young fellow's bad side, since he was in no mood to exert any physical effort on this calm day. Should things go awry, the white haired trickster took note to keep his cup half-full at the very least in order to give the stranger a nasty surprise before running away for safety. Would the situation degenerate to such a level? Bishop doubted it, but he still preferred to keep his options open. Moderate paranoia aside, the Iranian introduced himself with a nod and a friendly smile.
A quick looked the the sky showed to sun temporarily being blocked out a big puffy white cloud. After a moment or two the cloud had passed and the sun embraced the beautiful park of Chula Vista. Roth had now struck up mild conversation with his new friend. Bishop. A Middle Eastern man who seemed to act fairly young, but his body told other wise.
"Bishop, eh? I'm Roth, Roth O'Roak. It's a pleasure to meet you Bishop."
The long white male outstretched his right hand to Bishop as they exchanged pleasantries. The man seemed nice enough, and Roth was always trusting, a little too trusting, but not too bright either.
"Well I work for this company in San Diego. They host fights of all kind, wrestling, MMA, cage fights, the works. They're having a big event in July and I'm in the main event. It's never bad to get your face out there, eh?"
Roth smiled to Bishop as he turned his battered body to better face his new acquaintance. He took a moment to further analyze him. Bishop was definitely a mystery. White hair, older body, but his eyes showed youth in them. It made Roth a tad weary, but decided against bringing it up. He was never one to ask much of a person, but he always gave plenty information about him.
Bishop raised an eyebrow in interest as Roth told him what his line of work was. The brawler type, he respected them. You're given one life and one body on this earth, and to willingly make it through such a brutal treatment at such a relatively early portion of your life demanded a sense of self-sacrifice that many simply didn't possess. It would've been easy for the Iranian to classify Roth as some brainless chum focused on pummeling people with his fists, but the truth was that this man was an athlete, in every sense of the term. With newfound respect for this individual, Bishop asked a question to confirm that he understood what Roth was saying.
"So you're a full time multiple-martial artist? You sure have a cool way to advertise, heh. Do you have any tickets for sale?"
As Bishop asked that second question, he wondered for a moment if he was doing the right decision. Fights were something he was much too involved in during his younger days as a high school student. Though after his first major defeat, he preferred acting a sidelines combatant, sparing his body from the brutality of the front. Still, his sense of nostalgia for violence begged him to take a look, so he stood by his decision. That aside, another thought came up his mind.
"Better yet, are there still openings for the fights?"
The warm sun kept going strong as the two acquaintances enjoyed their Sunday as much as they could. Roth laughed to himself as he listened to the Iranian talk about what Roth did to sustain himself. He wouldn't call himself a Martial artist. He did having extensive training in Muay Thai, and taught it while at Mugen Hall back in Philly, but he was much more of a wrestler.
The conversation proceeded as Roth began to rotate his shoulder a bit to loosen up after his act in the park. To his surprise his new friend had asked about no only going to watch the fights, but possibly taking place in them.
"Well, we do have a pretty big event coming up. Live net stream, sold out arena, the works, Truth be told we do need some talent for that event, a bunch of new titles came in to try and open it's doors to a broader audience."
A slight turn of body had Roth facing Bishop with a friendly smile on his face. It seemed as if his advertising job had gotten through to at least one person so far.
"Dude!" Bishop grinned as an idea popped in his mind, the gears in his head were beginning work. The coffee was finally starting to take effect. That realization made the young man take another sip from his cup before placing it on the bench. Getting up from his seat, he turned to face Roth, bringing his hands up to shoulder level before snapping his fingers. "I got an idea!"
"If you're looking for talent, why don't you try at the Collective? They got tons of angry students just waiting for a half-assed excuse to beat each other to bits. And they have ten times that amount of people who want to see two guys beating each other to bits! Talent and an audience is just a few blocks away! Though we'd have to wait until tomorrow to start advertising. No class on Sunday."
Stroking his chin, Bishop took no note that he blurted all that package in less than thirty seconds. His mind was busy devising new marketing strategies. In case you didn't know, the guy aced his economics classes while only having a 60% attendance average. Business seemed to flow in his blood. It was no wonder that he was able to sustain himself with a very reasonable blackmailing and extradition ring affecting government officials all around the world. That aside, the Iranian asked Roth for some feedback.
Roth blinked rapidly as the seemingly laid back Iranian started to go off at a mile a minute, or 60 miles per hour. Roth tried his best to make out words in his muttered sentences. From what he could make out, Bishop wanted to help advertise or at least give advice for advertising in the Collective. Roth did go to school there, so it wouldn't be too hard. The problem was getting everybody at the collective to see it.
"I'm always up for a job. I have an idea of my own, but I'd like to see what you have first."
The Irishman turned even more toward his new friend Bishop. He had a curious look in his eye as to what Bishop had in mind. It didn't really matter to Roth how it was done, he just wanted this upcoming event to go down in history with the rest of this city.
Bishop threw a peek at Roth when he asked him about some details concerning his plan. Within two seconds the plan was set in his mind. Now the challenge was putting it in words that Roth would understand. Passing his thumb over the small patch of hair beneath his lower lip, Mir explained himself.
"Well, I doubt that the staff at the Collective would approve of any open advertising for such an event, but that shouldn't stop us."
He flashed a grin. This was going to be good.
"Get yourself... ten, twenty guys, alright? We're going to do this with style, we're going to do this with grandeur! Get a couple of guys to announce the thing with megaphones at key spots in the school. That will get lots of people informed, but also attract the administration's attention. While they'll be trying to silence your mates, the rest of us will pass small brochures or text messaging chains, spreading the news like a virus infecting a host. Then, before you know it, everyone knows where and when it will happen, and the administration won't be able to do anything about it."
Once he finished his explanation, Bishop took what was left of his coffee and let it roll down his throat.
The sun warmed the two men on the bench as Roth's new friend explained his plan, which was a lot more thought out than his already. Roth never was too bright, but when he really thought about something it worked like a charm. Roth listened intently on Bishop's plan with mega phones and mass information sharing.
Roth never really knew much about texting or sending out little brouchers, or advertising, but one thing he could do was be loud as hell. He liked the plan a lot, but he knew more planning would have to be made between the new friends. Roth threw his hand up and placed it on the Iranian's shoulder and looked at him with a friendly smile.
"Well how 'bout we get this all planned out over another cup of coffee, eh? My treat."
Roth stood his large Irish-Lithuanian body upright and quickly stretched it out. Roth would wait for Bishop to accept his offer before taking off, after all the place where someone got their Coffee was important, if was all different and you always had a favorite.
Bishop raised an eyebrow when Roth invited him for another cup of coffee before they continued with the planning. With a quizzical look, he took a moment to think about the lad's proposal before verbalizing what was on his mind. The Iranian trickster gave his answer with a joking tone.
"If you think I'm that easy to manipulate--" he began, an ounce of faked hostility in his tone, then unexpectedly answered Roth's gesture with a firm shake. "You got yourself a deal!" Laughing with heart, the young man got up from his seat, preparing himself to walk with Roth to the proper place to consume another cup of the precious black liquid. Then a thought... well sound, changed Mir's plans. The grumbling of his stomach reminded him that he couldn't run on coffee alone, and requested something solid to be inserted into it. With an embarrassed chuckle, Bishop offered a counter-proposition.
"Tell you what, I'm in for lunch instead. Show me your favorite eatery and be my guest. It's my plan, so I'm inviting you, aight?" Just to make sure that they would be even, the Iranian offered a follow-up to the whole deal. "You'll invite me for a drink when you celebrate your victory. Doesn't that sound better to you?" The white haired patted firmly Roth's back while gesturing the taller man to lead the way to wherever it was they were going to eat. Hopefully it would be close, because Mir's stomach was torturing him impatiently.
An awkward face came from the tall white boy as his new Iranian friend began to show a slight hostility. Before Roth could nervously apologize his white haired friend shot back with a smile and a laugh. In return Roth bellowed his own deep loud laugh, signature to his Irish heritage. With a smile on both their faces Roth began to lead the way to his favorite local food. The man definitely chose the right man to find him some food.
"Well once I win my fight you, me and everyone else there will be enjoying a drink on me!"
Another hearty laugh and the two were on their way. Roth thought about all the places he had been so far, and what some like Bishop might like. The only place that really clicked with him was luckily a place right around the block. It was a 'new age' place, and although the atmosphere wasn't Roth's favorite they're food was pretty damn amazing.
"So, what brings a guy like you to this Collective town anyways?"