dodge your own blows

[Billie Hart]

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit! Desperate, Billie's mind reeled as she ran down the sidewalks, pushing things out of her way no matter what they were. The two Russians chasing her were practically breathing down her neck - like most they were pissed that their boss lost, but most people didn't try to kill her until after she left the restaurant. Billie's throat was completely dry, and whatever came out was raspy. Her voice no longer sounded like a beautiful tune written by a silver tongue, now it was more like a broken record. Billie looked around, she couldn't pull her knife out - and even if she could she would only be bringing a knife to a shootout. They hadn't drawn them yet, thankfully, probably because of all the people around, but the second Billie ran into an empty area she bet that would change.

Billie stole a look over her shoulder. Yup, they were still there - what persistent little buggers they were. How was she going to lose them? Ducking into an alley was suicide and turning to fight was never a good idea for someone who could barely make a fist. Maybe if she went a little faster she could find somewhere to hide or just give them the slip. Billie bites her lip and tightly turns a corner, speeding up as her eyes dart this way and that. Where could she run to at least buy herself time? A store? Maybe if there was a backdoor…Billie took her chances and ducked into a Chinese restaurant. She ducked behind a rather tall man, stole a look to the window, and then made for the backdoor. She ignored the shouts from employees, and began to make her way through alleys. The pianist would look over her shoulder often, trying to determine whether or not she had really lost them.

Eventually, she slowed down as she came up to a vacant lot with a huge crowd of….people who were nothing like her crowd at all. Billie adjusted her hat as she casually walked up toward the crowd, her eyes looking to see if anyone was staring at her. They were all men, well from what she could see, and they did seem mighty excited about something, they were all shouting and hollering. Billie curiously eyed a few of these men, but instead of asking someone what was going on, she made her way toward the middle of the crowd. Billie figured she could waste a little time around here before heading back to her apartment, just to make sure that she could be safe. Wait…what if they knew where her house was? Billie’s stomach flipped uncomfortably at the thought. It looked like her bed would be a park bench tonight. She didn’t like that one bit, especially since she was in this weird neighborhood.

The crowd had made its own ring for the two fighters duking it out in the middle. “Shit…..this is some hardcore stuff right here.” Billie gawked at the brawlers in front of her, and yes the emotion of surprise did indeed appear on her face. The cogs in her brain went to work, men yelling – holding money as they cheered on two men fighting. Was this the bad part of town? Well it’s the west side – it’s all pretty bad here. Was this one of those cheesy fighting rings? Billie cocked an eyebrow – she didn’t think any of those were around here and that they only existed in dumb action movies. The redhead soon gained her usual composure, that fox-like smirk appearing after a moment or two, and seemed amused by the two men in the middle fighting. It was a nice way to spend what remained of her night.

word;; 625
outfit;; here
status;; finished
tag;; justin
notes;; none

[Justin Novak]

He was calm, just standing there, turning out the roar of the crowd. The taunts of the other man simply bounced off him as if they had never been said. The urging of the people who had bet on him to get in there and fight. He just stood there, relaxed and unaffected. If it weren't for the sweat and blood that was running down his body, he wouldn't even look like he was in the middle of a street fight, pitted against a man nearly twice his size. It was this demeanor that infuriated the men he fought against. They didn't understand why they couldn't beat a guy who didn't even act like a fighter. Despite all that though, once he started fighting, you just plain old couldn't stop him. For someone who had never had any professional training in his life, his technique was almost flawless. Every move he made counted for something, and it was almost impossible to predict what he was going to do and how he was going to react.

He had been fighting for a lot of years... most of his life really. If it wasn't a physical fight it was some other sort. Fighting to survive, fighting to be accepted, fighting to be understood, fighting to be loved. Even as a child he fought for these things, but for the most part he never succeeded in what he was fighting for. So when he discovered his ability to win physical fights... it became his drug. He was addicted to it immediately. This was one thing he was good at, one thing he could do well... and he didn't have anything else like that. The more he won, the more he dug himself in deeper. He couldn't get himself out of this hole he had dug, but he didn't want to either. Why would he? This was the one thing he could excel at doing, the one thing where people idolized him and he could win.

Tonight he was struggling a bit. He'd had a bad fight the evening before, and it had definitely slowed him down. He'd taken several hard hits since the start of this fight, but hadn't managed to get in an exceptionally good one himself. He was still in the fight though, he'd been in far worse shape than this before and still won in the end. The bigger man was feeling rather cocky and smirked at the blood that was spilling slowly but steadily from the numerous gashes scattered across his body. He had to be fading... right? As he moved in on Justin, he made the worst mistake he possibly could; underestimating his opponent's stamina. As he moved closer, Justin didn't move until he was so close they were nearly touching, then with a sudden flurry of motion he grasped the other man's arm, twisted him around so he was facing away, and slammed him against the wall of the old building, smashing the man's skull against it, successfully disorienting him so much so that he could hardly even stand. Justin's work here was done.

He let go of the other man's arm and watched as he slumped to the ground, not unconscious, but nearly there. He was breathing heavily from the exertion put into the fight, and it took about 10 seconds before the fight tuned out and the real world came rushing back into his mind with a mind blowing roar. He took two steps back from the fallen man, almost a stumble. He would become so focused on the fight that he would forget everything else, and when it all came back to him it would nearly knock him down. When he had returned to reality, he took a few moments to glance around the people that surrounded him. No one in particular stood out to him, they were all the typical crowd... no one, that is, until he spotted a young girl who definitely didn't blend in.

She wasn't a cop though, so it was of no concern to him. He turned and started wading through the crowd, limping slightly and grimacing with each step. He was hurting pretty bad, but he was used to the pain. He stopped about a block away and lowered himself onto the steps of a closed building, trying to give himself a moment or two to regroup and catch his breath. He had a ways to go to get "home" and he would rather make it there alive then collapse on the way and end up getting killed by someone he didn't like. His head was throbbing and his whole body ached... he would definitely be taking tomorrow off, unless he wanted to get himself killed, which he most definitely didn't. Right now he just needed peace and quiet... and preferably a lot of alcohol.

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[Billie Hart]

Honestly, Billie had placed her bets on the big guy on the right – he had size and, well, honestly the smaller one on the left didn’t look too hot at the moment. She wanted to kick herself barely a moment later though, she should have known to never chalk it up to size – that was a rookie’s mistake, I mean don’t you remember Rocky IV? Drago was fucking huge and Rocky destroyed him, but I digress. Billie’s eyes began to hold emotion, that being of surprise of course, as the smaller man reaches forward with such amazing speed that the bigger fighter didn’t have any time to stop himself from being manhandled and slammed into a nearby wall – like a fucking cobra going in for the kill or something. Billie, having odd reactions to nearly everything, laughed and clapped her hands, impressed with the spectacle. She loved twist endings; she counted this as one of them.

The winner suddenly looked stunned and seemed to stumble backwards. Had he been that consumed by the fight? Billie pushed her hands into her pockets, feeling the hilt of her knife in the left. There were those few who put so much into fighting, or whatever it is they did, that they simply stopped registering anything outside of what they were doing. On the contrary to what you might think, Billie was not one of those people and had no clue how this was even possible. She was one of those people who could look like they were focusing on one thing, but actually had their eye on the various things going on around them. Billie was a nervous and nosy person – she couldn’t handle not being able to know what was going on around her.

The winner and her made eye contact for just a moment, Billie being who she was, knew that he was looking her over. It might have been habit, or paranoia – but she could tell that he was not checking her out, let’s just get that straight. Clearly he was in pain, he was just in a street fight after all, and the winner quickly turned away from her and disappeared in the shifting crowd. A light bulb went off in her head and she bolted off after the winner of the fight, not batting an eye as she practically hopped over the loser of the fight. Billie adjusted her hat and took a quick look around her as she spotted a seedy looking convenience store – she just hoped her friends the Russians hadn’t chosen to venture in there as well. The redhead fished out her wallet as she stood in front of the freezer. How much money did she have? Billie sighed as her fluctuating wallet balance, but she had enough for a six pack at least.

After paying and taking yet another paranoid look around for her ‘friends’, Billie made her way across the street again and walked in the direction she had seen the winner of the fight take. Her eyes dart this way and that, looking for any strange movement in the shadows or her – oh there he is! She whistled softly to get his attention as she approached his stoop. “Up for a trade, Rocky?” Of course she rolled her eyes at her own nickname for him, but she had to call him something. Billie pulled out the six pack and dangled it in front of him so he knew that she had something to give. “Beer for guarding me? C’mon tough guy whaddya say?” Usually, since she was a woman, anything she asked of people got done – but this guy might be one of those ‘I’m too good to protect you from what might as well be the Russian mob’ sorts of people.


words;; 630
status;; finished <3
notes;; Favorite it post I've ever written - the Rocky reference made it 2x more awesome xDDD /shot o-o

[Justin Novak]

Justin felt a little like his head was just going to explode. He'd taken a lot of hits last night, and he'd taken a lot of hits again in this fight, and was looking a little worse for ware; but he was a tough guy, and if worst came to worst, he could certainly still defend himself. He really didn't look all that great, but looks were deceiving as his opponent and all those who had bet against him had discovered the hard way. He was the best at what he did, and his ability to comeback and win when he was that beat down was proof enough of that, and he had a lot of stamina as well. There was no doubt Justin was talented in the fighting ring. When he was at the top of his game, he looked rather like he was strong enough to kill someone with his bare hands, and he probably could if he wanted to... but that was the thing with Justin... he didn't want to hurt anyone. Now in the ring that was another story... they were all asking for it, they fought because they liked it. Outside of the ring, and outside of necessity, he wouldn't dream of hurting anyone, though you'd never know if from the way he looked at people.

Though he dropped his head into his hands, warding off the building migraine, he was still aware of everything going on around him. The people milling around a block away as more fights got underway, the few people going in and out of stores, the occasional car trolling down the street...then he saw her again, out of the corner of his eye, and she got his attention for the second time. He couldn't really explain why he was intrigued by her, but he was. Perhaps it was because she just didn't seem to fit in here, and didn't look like the type who would be attracted to the world of illegal street fighting. For whatever reason he just found it interesting that she was here. As she disappeared into the store, he just shook his head and went back to paying mind to everything else that was going on and trying to convince himself that he was only imagining the pain like he always did after a bad fight.

He had been sitting there for a moment or two, slowly starting to zone out a little bit, unintentionally. The noise of the street had begun to fade into simply background noise, and he was suddenly starting to realize just how tired and worn out he really was. He was starting to feel a little bit like he was just going to fall asleep right there. With that realization came another... it had been days since he'd rested properly. When you lived a life like Justin's actually getting a good night's sleep was a rare occurrence... and when it was in a city like Chicago where there were always cops trolling the streets or people out to kill you lurking in the shadows, getting any sleep at all was even rarer still. He had gotten used to maybe getting one hour of sleep every night, often times none at all... but even after getting used to it, there was only so much the human body could take, no matter how tough the guy was.

A whistle, sounding much more shrill in his aching head than it probably was, interrupted his attempts at eliminating the pain, but successfully stopping him from falling asleep or passing out right then and there, which he probably would have been grateful of were it not for the killer headache that was made only worse by her whistle. He looked up at her with a grimace, not a bit of surprise in his pained expression. He never showed surprise or fear... but he had no problem with showing pain... there was no point in trying to hide it when it was as obvious as it was after something like what he'd gone through. He didn't really approve of the nickname either. He might have been a fighter, but he was no Rocky. Boxing, in his opinion was overrated, and it was quite clear by his lack of fighting stance when he was in the ring. It took much more skill to be a fighter like him than to just box.

On the other hand... she seemed to be going the roundabout way of asking him for help... to protect her from something, or someone... and for someone to go out of their way to ask him for help was something he hadn't ever experienced before. People typically went out of their way to avoid him, and most people didn't think he was actually good for anything... so he was a little taken off guard by this sudden request from a stranger. A moment of silence drew out between them as he peered at her through narrowed eyes, unsure if he should trust her or not. Oh sure, she was just a little girl... but in his experience, women could be the most devious of all... besides she had to be some sort of trouble if she needed a guy like Justin to protect her.

On top of that, he wasn't so sure if he appreciated being offered something so weak as beer in return for his services. First of all, did she not think he could afford to buy his own alcohol... he had just won a fight, after all, and winning meant cash, especially when you were as popular as he was. Second of all... beer? Really? He was more a whiskey or vodka sort of guy... something more hard, something more apt to knock someone out after just a few shots... then again, she seemed slightly desperate, just because she was trying to "bribe" him into helping her. Finally, all the info thoroughly gnawed on and processed, he sighed heavily, "Guard you from what?" He asked, but before hardly a second had passed much less an opportunity to respond, he continued with a second question, Do you not see the condition I'm in? What makes you think I'd be any better at protecting you from, whatever it is, than you would be on your own? The last two questions he asked, not really because he wanted to know the answer, more because he wanted to know just what sort of shit he was getting himself into. If she was so willing to approach someone as beat up as him and ask for help, it had to be pretty bad... but secretly, he couldn't say no. That was the kinder part of Justin that almost no one ever saw. He cared about the well-being of people... and he always felt horribly guilty when he turned people away... he couldn't imagine how awful he'd feel if he said no and she ended up hurt or dead. Guilt was a powerful emotion, and one of the only ones he had never been able to bury.

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[Billie Hart]

Well, of course he looked in pain – he had just been in one of the most hardcore street fights Billie had ever seen. Actually…that was the first ‘official’ street fight Billie had ever seen, but you get the idea. She was surprised that he actually showed it, as most men were perpetually stuck in that ‘macho-man’ phase were pain apparently did not apply to them. The redhead, like most women would be, was impressed and thought for a moment that she wasn’t dealing with an asshole for once, the one time she wouldn’t be able to deal with it. The way he looked at her when she got her attention made her think otherwise. He was completely uninterested in her offer, looking at the beer as if it were actually apple juice or some other kiddie drink. Billie’s fox-like expression didn’t fade, he just needed persuading, and if it was one thing that Billie could do it was that.

Out of the corner of her eyes she would occasionally focus on, making sure that they were alone – save for the occasional person who lived and or belonged here. Trust me, two Russians with thick accents would stick out in a neighborhood like this. Billie’s steel blue eyes shamelessly gazed into his narrowed eyes, she knew how to control her body language if she wanted to and right now she was making sure she didn’t come off as sneaky or devious…though that was hard for her. Constantly, people would always tell her that she looked like she was up to no good with that constant smirk on her face, but it was actually more of a laid-back smirk….or a lazy smile you choose.

The winner of the fight sighed and Billie chose to take that as a sign of him giving in to her. She slowly plopped herself down next to him, getting herself comfortable by stretching out her legs. Billie didn’t answer him at first; instead she pulled two beers with her fingers from the bag and held them between them. Billie could never get the metal tops off these bottles, so she was also asking him to open hers. “Oh, that’s an easy one!” She said, referring to his last question to her. Billie finally made eye contact with him again and held up her free hand, making that pitiful excuse she called a fist. “I can’t throw a punch. This is as tight as my hand gets!” ]” She leaned in toward him, just a few inches. “So it’s a no brainer to choose you doncha think?”. Billie didn’t usual answer every question, or even tell other people the whole story – even when prodded for information, so this might just be the only personal question she might answer tonight. She turned her head, watching a car fly down the street with loud Spanish music blasting from its radio.

Still with her free hand, unless he had indeed taken the bottle reserved for her, she pulled off her head and set the fedora next to her. Billie eyes roamed over her new surroundings, maybe this guy knew a comfy bench she could crash on for the night before she made her way back to her part of the west side – the one with all the organized and petty crimes. She wasn’t looking at the man beside her; however, she had noted that he was anything but an eyesore to her. Billie gazed past him, up the street, watching the crowd of men who had been watching his fight disperse into the surrounding streets, probably on their way home….or to a bar to drink away the last of their money. She began pulling out her ponytail since it was beginning to feel tight and uncomfortable. Letting her long red hair fall over her shoulders, she ran her hand through it, beginning to play with it as her eyes came to rest somewhat curiously on the man beside her.


words;; 647
status;; finished
notes;; sorry it's so.....short ><

[Justin Novak]

Justin was really not a touchy feely person... he didn't like his personal space to be invaded, and his bubble was very easily popped. It was only natural for him though. The pain inflicted on him through a childhood defined by abuse made him prone to doing everything he could to stay out of reach of people for fear of being hurt. Now, he had no fear of pain... clearly, from the way he chose to live his life in the fight ring with literally no protective gear... but he still had "anxiety" about physical space being invaded. Even now in his fights, when someone got close to him it generally indicated pain. He just didn't like it when people got close to him because he had never experienced a good thing coming from physical contact. He knew everyone wasn't out to get him, but all the same, he didn't really like it.

He watched this girl in front of him carefully, meeting and holding her stare with his still narrowed eyes, but only briefly. Eye contact was an intimidation thing in his world, and he felt no need to intimidate her. He was constantly searching her, analyzing everything. He had to admit that she was certainly attractive, but despite the stereotype, he wasn't the sort of guy who only thought of women as a person to have sex with... while he certainly had been through his fair share of one night stands, they were still people and should be treated as such. He knew all too well what it was like to be dehumanized and it was not a pleasant experience that he would never wish on someone else, let alone be guilty of doing exactly that.

When she moved over and sat beside him, his level of comfort instantly plummeted. He tensed just slightly, but other than that forced himself to not react. He glanced at the beers in her hand, still unimpressed with the strength of the alcohol contained in the bottles... but he might as well, it was better than nothing, right? Without even needing to take it from her hand, he easily removed the cap from the bottle. It went without saying that he was more than strong enough and had a tight enough grip to do so. He was a big guy, and there was no doubt about his strength. Even those two had never seen him fight could tell easily that he was born to do something that was physically demanding. He was relatively lightly built, and considering his financial situation he was also rather thin, though definitely no overly so, and because of that, the amount of muscle he had was pretty darn obvious.

He did the same with the other, but this one he took from her hand. She had distracted him enough from his pain that it seemed to have dulled to a manageable ache instead of the roaring throb it had been before. He listened carefully to each word she said, noting that she failed to answer his first question... which was the only one of the three he had actually wanted an answer to. Ah well, he supposed he would have to be more direct and concise in asking his questions so she couldn't avoid giving him the answer he wanted... and needed if he was going to successfully "guard" her from whatever it was she needed protection from. "Why not someone who didn't just nearly lose a fight? There were plenty others in better condition than me over there." That he did sort of want to know the answer to. Why had she singled out the already banged up guy from a large group of perfectly fine people who would probably be equally, if not better, at protecting her than he was right now.

Then again... were any of them all that likely to actually agree to it? Perhaps she was just really good at picking a sucker out of the crowd. It was sad, really... if Justin had been born into a better family, he probably would have been one of those sweet and caring guys who had endless possibilities... but because he had been born a Novak... the world shut him out before he could even sit up on his own... plus the abuse made him so untrusting that even if he was offered a wonderful opportunity... which would never happen, but if he were... he would be so wary of anything bad that could come of it that he probably wouldn't take it. It was sort of a tragedy really. Here was a brilliant young man who was confined to a life of poverty and fighting to survive, simply because of his last name and his no good parents.

"and you still haven't told me what I'm to be guarding you from." he added a moment later "I can't very well protect you when I don't know what from." Maybe she was just lost and was afraid of all the less than reputable people around here and wanted someone to take her home... or maybe she had an ex-boyfriend that was stalking her... or maybe it was something totally different from that and she was more trouble than she looked. Hell, for all he knew, she could be some German spy who wanted guarding from the FBI... far out, but anything was possible. After all, if it was possible someone thought he would be good for something other than filling an empty cell in prison, then there was probably nothing that wasn't possible.

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[Billie Hart]

“Don’t be so tense – it’s not like I bite.” Billie chuckled slightly. She had noticed that the man next to her was edgy – it did fit into her job description to discern just when someone was nervous after all. Her usual frigid and seemingly unfeeling eyes begin to flicker with emotion in little fits. Despite having been running for her life just an hour before, Billie was in an especially good mood somehow. She didn’t know if it was just because she liked people, he was incredibly nice to look at it, or maybe she was just happy to feel safe after bumping shoulders with the grim reaper. In the back of her head she chalked it up to a will to live, happy to be a live some sort of thing.

Billie cocked an eyebrow in surprise at his show of strength, smirking at the show of strength. Tired or not this man beside her was so much stronger than her and much stronger than those pesky Russian thugs. She waited until he plucked his bottle from her hand to take a sip of her beer, feeling the bitter taste rush over her tongue and down her throat. She watched the people inside their sketchy little stores move about their daily lives for a few minutes until the fighter beside her spoke up. It was such a invasive question, one meant to put you on the spot and reveal what you’re thinking process was like. Billie hated those questions…she tried to skirt skillfully around it. “But you didn’t lose, you wrecked that guy – and that’s what matters.” Billie looked at him slyly, like the answer had been blatantly obvious.

After another sip of her beer, the redhead looked back at him and cocked an eyebrow. A mischievous glint appeared in her eye as she leaned toward him. “You think I should take my beer elsewhere and find someone else?” Billie grinned and leaned back to happily take another sip of her beer. She assumed that he would say no, and depending on the way he said it…she might just leave because, again, she couldn’t fight back very well after all…maybe she could kick him and run if he gave her any trouble, but that would definitely take some precision and speed. Would she be able to do that now? …Neither Billie nor I make any promises…

Billie’s eyes darted up and down the street again, making sure there weren’t any looming shadows nearby. She had become calmer since she had sat down with him, though who wouldn’t feel completely safe with a big guy who could take on another man at least twice his size on his own? Billie leaned back on the stairs, laying her head back to peer up at the dark, starless, sky. She reached for her hat and placed it over her chest for ‘safe-keeping’. Honestly, her borderline collection of fedoras were almost like her most valuable possession, they looked cool and made her look like some kind of badass – which was always a plus with the ladies…not so much with the men usually.

He spoke again, asking her about the people that were chasing her. Billie being Billie, she was vague about it. “Just a few Russians who can’t handle losing.” This redhead wasn’t your average chick who came around here, she was no hooker or drug addict, but she most certainly wasn’t ‘lost’ – she knew how to get back to her apartment from here. She was on the run though, and maybe – deep down – she was a little scared of the people chasing her. Billie didn’t want to die – maybe some other night, but not tonight. There were so many things she still wanted to do and feel. She was theoretically still young. She wanted to travel, to see the world – just to put it in that cheesy way. Billie wasn’t just a dreamless shell with no aspirations or anything, she knew that she wouldn’t be spending her life in this city – she had been planning to leave eventually.

She offered her hand to the fighter beside her, rising slowly into a sitting position. “I’m Billie, by the way. Billie Hart.”

words;; 698
notes;; none....sorry if it's bad - had a bad day and it sucked the muse outta me I guess.

[Justin Novak]

Justin was basically incapable of not being tense when he wasn't fighting. It was odd how that worked. He never got nervous before or during a fight, and he always seemed so relaxed when he was putting his life on the line in the ring... but outside of it, he was simply lost. The thought of having to come up with things to say without sufficient time to carefully consider all the possible ways it could be taken wrongly and decide which was better... well, it terrified him. Why he was so concerned about people taking things he said in the wrong way was an unknown factor in his life that even he didn't understand. He wanted people to understand him, and for whatever reason, he was afraid that if the things he said were taken to mean the wrong thing, people would only judge him more... and he definitely wasn't any good at doing things impromptu unless it involved the fight ring.

He looked at her skeptically as she said he wasted the guy he'd been fighting, and while that was partly true, when the guy regained consciousness he would probably be in better physical condition than Justin was right now. Maybe so, he said still skeptically, but I got lucky. It was definitely true. If the guy hadn't rushed him like that, Justin would have lost for sure. He wouldn't have lasted much longer in the ring with that guy, so he definitely considered it luck that he did win. In a way, he was his own worst enemy. He was a critic of his own abilities and often under estimated what he was capable of and how much skill he really did have in these fights. In his mind, he was like the rider who had never fallen off their horse before, and it was only a matter of time before his flawless record was marred by a loss. He was expecting it, and he wouldn't be disappointed when that day came.

Although she hadn't answered the question, he decided to just let it be. If she didn't want to tell him the real reason why she had chosen all bloodied up and bruised Justin as compared to the fully functioning perfectly capable unmarred men who had been watching the fight, then she didn't have to tell him. Who was he to question her motives anyway? For all he knew she was some girl who had some jackass after her and she was just trying to escape him and for whatever reason thought Justin might be able to help her from the impending rape or death, while he was just a common criminal who had no right to ever question anyone as to why they did what they did. After all, when people asked him why he did things he didn't like it very much either, and rarely ever answered the question satisfactorily.

He chose to ignore her other question, she could do whatever the hell she wanted, he wasn't going to try to get her to lean either way. Leave or stay, it was her choice. When she mentioned the Russians though, he was instantly concerned, and the thought that flowed through his mind instantly was "Goddammit, what the hell am I getting myself into?" He was no fool, he knew that any Russians in these parts who anyone had reason to be afraid of were more than likely extremely dangerous people. No doubt they carried at least semi-automatic weapons and wouldn't be afraid to use them on anyone who came between them and their prey... then again, who was he to complain? He didn't have anything worth living for in this life, so he might as well go down with at least a little honor that would probably go unnoticed trying to get this girl out of whatever sort of shit she'd gotten herself in with these people.

After she introduced herself, he sighed heavily and looked over at her again Fine, I'll do it, but I'm not making you any promises. he said not quite so flat as before, Where am I supposed to be taking you? He could only assume she had some sort of destination to which she needed to get so... if not, he wasn't sure what he was going to do. He had deliberately not introduced himself and hoped that somehow by openly agreeing to it and asking another question she would forget his lack of introduction and not ask. He didn't like people knowing who he was. Of course, if she asked, he'd tell her his name... first name only... but until she did he was just not going to offer her his name. He was convinced he was better off the fewer people knew his name... and he never told anyone he was a Novak. Last thing he needed was his previous life coming back to haunt him here. He came her to escape it, and he didn't want the miserable legacy of the Novak name to follow him here.

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[Billie Hart]

Chances are the Russians were chasing their own tails by now, just running around in circles, surrounded by bad Chinese restaurants, convenience stores, and porno joints. Billie was in the clear just as long as she stayed on this side of town. Knowing their sort of people and their sort of business....they would most likely loiter around her apartment or the restaurant until morning when someone said something. Billie smirked, some people could be so predictable, the only way this could get any safer for her was if she heard the two guns they were toting go off and one of those dirt bags shot the other....but that rarely ever happened. Her subconscious loved the idea nonetheless, made her night a whole lot easier. Billie didn't like having to place her life in this guy, but she was sure that tonight wouldn't go from bad to worse - so he would do for now. All he really needed to do was show her to a place she could crash.

Billie took another sip of her beer and watched a few unscrupulous-looking people pass them by. It was times like these that she wished she had a cell phone, that way she could at least call someone and tell them that she wasn't lying in a puddle of her own blood in some dark, depressing alleyway. Radigan would be mad at her for not calling, but Billie knew he would disguise it as a worry about the flow of cash into his pocket. They would argue with each other, but then they would eventually find something else to distract them - usually a customer or the occasional glass of vodka. She had to wonder though, did they tap the phones at the restaurant? Are they trying that hard? She took a slow, long sip from the bottle to finish it off. Billie set it beside her and closed her eyes. If they tapped the phones then they probably wouldn't hesitate to go after the people who worked at the restaurant.

The next thing she heard him say was that he had finally given in to her. She turned to him, looking somewhat stunned as if she had just been in some sort of deep trace. Billie grinned from ear to ear and quickly stood, grabbing the six pack as she did. "Well! I need a place to crash - a safe place, with no cops or psychos around. After that you're free." The redhead leaned forward, picked up her hat with her free hand and plopped it on her head with a bit of style. Her green eyes flicker back over to that small area where this guy had been fighting. There was a pay phone. She knew the number. She stared at it for a moment, leaning back on her heels for a moment. They could survive without her for just a couple hours more. It wasn't like this had been the first time this had happened after all. Billie knew what tomorrow was going to end up like anyway - just a fight with Radigan and a few relieved faces. Radigan wouldn't call the cops, as that was just bad for business and...well rather idiotic in Billie's opinion.

"So you know a place like that?" Billie turned back to the man in front of her, and cocked an eyebrow. She hadn't missed the fact that he hadn't given her name, no her mind was a tad sharper than that. It just meant that was an open invitation for her to call him whatever she wished - Rocky or anything she thought was appropriate for the moment. Complain and he would have to give her his real name....but she was beginning to wonder if he would fold, he seemed like he was locked up pretty tight. Well, either way she got to have fun with him and there was a possibility of annoying him, so at least Billie would be happy.

word. 669
status. finished
note. none.

[Justin Novak]

Justin hadn't ever been an emotional person. He had learned as a child that emotions only made the abuse hurt more... not so much in the physical sense, but in the mental and emotional sense. He had loved his parents, as every child should, but as they continued to hurt him, he started putting up emotional blocks. From the ages of five to about 13 no one ever saw a smile on Justin Novak's face. He figured if he just kept any and all feelings away from him he wouldn't end up getting hurt. When he entered high school, he quickly discovered that being standoffish would only attract the people who would want to pick on kids like him, so he put on a mask... one that told the world he was happy... and for two years, everyone believed that Justin Novak truly was happy and there was nothing going wrong at home. He always managed to come up with some excuse for the bruises that didn't sound fishy at all.

After Jacob died though, he completed his emotional block. He put a seemingly unbreakable wall up around his heart. He had been hurt too many times, and there was now no one left who even so much as cared to ask him if he was alright. Without Jacob, Justin became an angry young man, and was instantly deemed dangerous. When he was walking down the street, parents would pull their children closer to them as if to protect them from the menace known as Justin Novak. People looked at him in disgust, mothers vowed to never let their daughters date someone like him, fathers warned their family that if they ever saw him on their property to tell him so he could get his gun, police would follow him when he was just walking down the street... people everywhere who saw him were instantly thinking of ways to dispose of him if he ever became a problem, but not a single one of them looked and saw Justin for what he really was.

Truthfully... he was just lost, he always had been lost. But the problem was, he didn't know where he was lost from. He never really had a place he called home... and he had never really been accepted by anyone. He was trying desperately to find his way back to where he belonged, but he just didn't know where he belonged. Justin was so frustrated with everything, with life... that it was turning into anger. He was like the musician who couldn't get a piece just right and threw the music book to the floor. He was like the artist that couldn't get the tree to look the way he wanted and so trashed the whole piece. He was like the builder who couldn't get his building to have the proper supports and so demolished the whole thing. But no one saw him that way. No one saw him as someone who just needed help and guidance... everyone just saw him as a violent and destructive person who was better off behind bars.

Of course, the violent part was true... but only in one aspect of his life. Justin would never dream of hurting anyone who didn't deserve it. He would never deliberately hurt a child, he wouldn't ever hit a woman, he would never lay a hand on an innocent bystander... Justin was by no means the sort of person who was dangerous... just so long as you weren't pitted against him in the ring. In a fight, Justin was dominant, and so far he had yet to not come out on top. He was strong and quick, but on top of that he could read an opponent in a millisecond and because of that, he could almost always predict exactly what they were going to do next. On top of that, he was completely impossible to read. Unlike most fighters, he was completely relaxed, and he often wouldn't even take up a fighting stance like the other fighters. Thanks to that, and his emotionless expression, there was almost no way to tell what he was going to do.

He looked at the girl skeptically when she described the place where she wanted to go. Not on this planet, he said in response to her question, and sure as hell not in the West Side. Justin himself didn't exactly live in any particular place. He knew a lot of people who would likely let him stay with them should he need it, but for now, he just mostly kept to the streets. He rarely ever slept for an hour at a time unless he got wasted and passed out, and he almost never got more than a combined total of four hours in a day. When you isolated yourself and pushed people away like Justin had, a lot of people came to hate you, and because of that he had to always be watching his back, and at this point, not having a permanent residence was the best way to do that.

Despite having said what he did, Justin merely stood and started in the direction of the only place in this whole side of town he knew to be safer than the rest. Right now, all he really wanted was to get drunk and pass out somewhere, and the quickest way to said want was to get her off his hands. Not that he particularly wanted to get rid of her, it was just that he was in a lot of pain and would like nothing more than to at least dull it to some extent, and unless she was some sort of doctor, he doubted spending time with her was going to help him with that any. He cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure she was following, but didn't slow at all. He wasn't walking as quickly as he normally would through the streets at this hour due to the amount of injury he had sustained, but his pace was still relatively swift. After all, if one lingered to long in the streets on the west side, they were bound to get shot... such a hospitable neighborhood Justin had chosen to reside in.

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