Collision [Justin]

[hanna]

Feur und Wasser kommt nicht zusammen.

[/i][/right]

It had been around a week or so that she had arrived in the city, in the United States, and only a few days since she had moved everything from her hotel room to her new apartment. Her life consisted of a process currently; a process of organizing, settling, and searching for something to make her life productive, and one that would support her. That, which would be a dressage instructor at a local riding school. The process was a rather stressful affair, but things had to be done and she spent the hours of the day getting those things done. And when it came evening, if she was not up late continuing to fill out paperwork, she would be collapsing in her bed full of exhaustion.

But not this night, no, a wanderlust and curiosity kept her awake and forced her mind to preserve through it's physical fatigue. What would she do, though, was the operative question. She knew no one, and barely knew her surroundings; a few grocery stores she made note of, laundry mats, banks, hospital–the very minor but essential establishments. Here and there she noted some night clubs and bars, and although she normally wasn't very prone or apt to frequenting such facilities, tonight she had a change of heart. What else was there to do, anyway? Well... she could most likely find a number of productive things to do, but everyone needs a break every now and then.

So, with a decision made she changed from her day clothes to something more fitting for the evening. It was nothing too terribly revealing, Johanna was not a cheap or easy woman, so she would never allow herself to appear that way. Donning a fitted black short sleeved top that had a swooped neck, blue jeans, and heeled black leather boots that came a little over her knee and had her jeans tucked into. Spending a brief amount of time on her make up, just some evening eyeshadow and lipstick, then coming her hair out as she would leave it down, she grabbed a navy blue leather jacket as she exited the door.

The first cab she hailed when she got in and was inquired of a destination, she simply said to take her to a nightclub or bar they knew of, since she had no knowledge of any. They did just that, and it so happened to be 'Hollywood and Vine'. When she got out and read the title, a brow quirked a little, but after paying the cab driver, she strode long for the door.

After being checked for an i.d and entering inside, both brows rose now when absorbing the atmosphere of the club. Her first time in a American club, should be interesting, she mused to herself as she immediately located the bar and aimed her next strides for it. Slipping onto a free stool, she briefly fretted for a moment of what drink she would order. What did Americans drink? "Rum und coke, please." She said promptly to the bartender when he came her way.

[/blockquote]

[Justin Novak]

Ah Chicago... it had no idea what it was in for. The world of street fighting there would take a turn for the better with him there. Guys like him brought a whole new dimension to the lifestyle. He was the sort of guy who wasn't just fighting because he could... he was the sort of guy who was fighting because he had to in order to survive. Because of that, it gave him more resolve to be better, more resolve to win, and as such brought a higher level of competition to the fight. Justin had already beaten out the competition in New York, and needed something more... that was why he moved to Chicago. He was a fighter, and because he had to fight to survive, it had become more than just a game. He loved it, yes. The thrill, the challenge, the adrenaline... but it was mandatory to his survival, and that was the main reason he was a fighter.

He had been in Chicago for about two months now and he had already established himself in his world. The grungy parts of the city were sectioned off... not geographically or by law... just because everyone knew who their allies were and who to stay away from. The street fighters had a small corner of the city that they had established themselves within. The boundaries of their territory was well known. Although they never used any weapon aside from a concealed switchblade perhaps, they were just as dangerous as any man with a gun. The gangs tended to stay away from their area because they knew they weren't welcome. Lifestyles always divided people like these. In the opinion of the street fighters, the gangs were morally wrong in every aspect of the word. In the gangs opinions the street fighters were pathetic excuses for criminals and weren't "worthy" of the title. They stayed away from each other as best they could.

All things considered, the street fighters' turf was possibly the safest place to be in the low income part of the city. Although they were fighters, they had a lot of understood rules. To be accepted into their society, they had to sort of have a bit of a moral compass. Rape and murder were completely unacceptable. Instigating a fight outside of the arena was highly frowned upon. There were all sorts of rules like that, which made their turf quite safe. It was almost like a sanctuary in hell... the only place you could get away from the danger of the gangs or mobs. No one would dare desecrate the street fighter's piece of ground... not unless they wanted to be killed or else wish they had been killed. They policed themselves, and I guarantee the only reason the cops ever came there was if they got a tip off about a street fight taking place and came to disperse and/or arrest the participants.

Tonight though, Justin wasn't in the mood for the "celebration" party after all the fights were over. He'd won his... of course... though not without some injury to himself. The other guy managed to get his knife sliced across Justin's right arm just below the 1326 tattooed on his shoulder. It wasn't a bad cut, but enough to make it bleed fairly well. Fortunately for Justin, one of the guys he was relatively close with was good with fixing up wounds, and saved him a trip to the hospital... not that he would have gone anyway, but it saved him a lot of misery. After that was taken care of, he was in need of a drink... something stronger than he could get here. So he headed uptown where he knew he could get whatever he wanted without a problem. He'd been getting into bars and clubs since he was 17, now that he was 21, he didn't have to worry about not being able to get in.

Of course there was always the issue of the fact that he couldn't just go wearing what he normally wore... but that was fine by him. Sometimes a guy just has to make sacrifices... besides, he didn't want to stand out in a crowd any more than he already did. On top of that he didn't want the cops knowing that he was the one they heard about... Inmate 1326. The cops down in his area knew who he was... but he didn't cause any trouble, so they left him alone. Up here where the place was more upscale, if they knew it was him they'd arrest him in a heartbeat, and the last thing he needed was to go back to jail. So he got himself cleaned up a bit, and headed for the Hollywood and Vine.

Although the doormen all knew Justin, since he was fairly regular here, for legal purposes they still had to scan the ID. After that, there was no trouble in getting through the doors. He wasn't much for the whole dance club thing... considering he didn't really dance.. but the drinks here were the best you could get in the area, so that was where he headed first. The bar. There was nothing like hard alcohol after a fight... especially one wherein you managed to get yourself hurt. The alcohol did wonders to keep your mind off the pain and settle the adrenaline from the fight. When he approached the bar, the bar tender didn't even ask what he wanted. Justin never really cared what it was, so long as it was strong, and the bar tender could save on time if he just didn't ask.

As he was handed the shot of...whatever it was... the girl next to him requested a rum and coke. Not strong enough for his taste... but she didn't look like the sort of person who would be interested in the same sort of drinks as he was. "You new here?" he asked her... which was strange for him. Justin was more of a strong and silent type who rarely said anything unless directly spoken to. But he was in a good mood tonight. Winning a fight always put him in a better mood... and call him crazy, but pain only increased that. Physical pain took away from the emotional pain... and when the emotional pain was temporarily pushed aside he was always in a better mood than usual. It was likely he still wouldn't say a whole heck of a lot, but he wouldn't be quite as standoffish as usual... and who knows... maybe he would actually make a semi-decent first impression for the first time in his life.

outfit: here

[hanna]

Johanna observed in a cool, passive gaze that came in the form of half closed eyes the bartender make her drink. While he did so she canned the assortment of liquor to have, taking mental notes of what she could order later or at other bars. She was particularly interested in Schnapps, her personal favorite was one called Ünterberg which translated as 'under mountain.' Hanna was not familiar of the name origin of the beverage, but her friends had come up with the explanation that one felt like they were literally under a mountain after one shot it was so strong. Unfortunately, Hanna did not spot the dark green bottle amongst the others.

One of the other most popular alcoholic beverages in Germany was beer, and perhaps what Germany and the surrounding countries that spoke German were most famous for. But, Hanna did not really consider that a bar or club kind of drink, it was so common that she perceived it in more of a casual atmosphere such as at home or with dinner. Hanna also wasn't fond of beer anyway, the whole 'beer belly' thing was not particularly appealing to her acquiring. And, from what she had heard, most of the American beer was awful anyway.

Then from the corner of her eye she noticed a figure approaching and take the open seat beside her. Initially she had only slanted her gaze a moment to glance at him briefly before looking away quickly to the bartender who had set down her drink and now was making another one for the man next to her. Then when the man addressed her, light brown brows inched upwards slightly in surprise, and she turned her head to look at him.

"Maybe." Glancing up to the bartender to take notice of the small silent, but seemingly familiar exchange of the two, she looked back to the man and replied in a thick accent. "I am guessing you are not." Johanna felt pretty confident in that statement, in consideration to him and the bartender, and Johanna had to wonder just how much of a frequenter he was to the bar, or how much she stood out to be called out as a new person.

The bartender returned to her, for she hadn't paid yet. Shifting on the stool and reaching into the coat of her pocket for her wallet, she opened and immediately cursed under her breath, "Scheiße. I hope you take credit cards? I only have euros." And plucking the piece of plastic from her wallet, she handed it to the tender, mentally kicking herself for not stopping by the currancy exchange. The accent she spoke in brought rolled r's from her mouth, and if one was familiar with Europe, it could be deciphered that it was German, but otherwise it was very clearly no kind of American dialect.

A hand reaching for her glass of the dark substance, she returned her attention the man next to her again.

[/blockquote]

[Justin Novak]

Justin hadn't ever been one for much sophistication. He was born in the "slums" of New York where no one cared to go if they were in the higher class. He knew he was unwelcome in the high class areas, so he stayed away from them most of his life. For that reason, he really wasn't all that fond of the sophisticated people. It wasn't really that he disliked them... he just wasn't partial to them. They always looked down on people like him, but it was people like him that made him the way he was. He had been shunned his whole life just because he was a Novak. Since that was his only experience with sophisticated people, he just figured they were all the same and gave up on trying to be accepted by them.

The girl beside him... she seemed more like the sophisticated sort. Not really so much in that she was say, prissy or anything... she just seemed like the sort of person who wouldn't be caught dead with a guy like him if she knew what sort of guy he was... then again, most everybody wouldn't be caught dead with a guy like him, unless they were like him. His was a difficult lifestyle for people of wealth to accept, and by wealth I don't mean filthy rich. The people who had a home, the people who had respectable jobs... the average every day person, in comparison to Justin, was wealthy. The only things he could lay claim to were the clothes on his back and the dog that usually followed him around. Other than that he had nothing, not even a family.

He looked at her a bit skeptically at her response to his question. He already knew she hadn't been to the dance club before, so he was guessing she was new to the area. From her thick German accent he was guessing that she hadn't been in the States long either. He always made it a point to know something about the people around him. He was one of those quiet guys who stood off to the side and just watched people, determining things about them from every move they made, from every glance they cast at the other people, from every drink they downed, and every person they chose to dance with. He could read people, and usually he was right in his assumptions.

He downed the shot without so much as flinching, and glanced back at her again. "Maybe?" He said with a rather skeptical tone, one you wouldn't expect someone to take with a stranger. "Either you are or you're not... you can't just "maybe" be new." Yes, he was being rather rude, and no, he didn't care. Even his best first impressions didn't make him come off as the sort of person that you would want to be friends with. He couldn't help it. He didn't know how to make good impressions anymore. He hadn't really had any real friends since his freshman year in high school, and that had been a long long time ago. He was a little socially inept, or at least appeared to be most of the time.

Most people were a bit intimidated by him considering his build, height, and generally standoffish appearance, but he had a feeling she wouldn't be. He couldn't say why... she just didn't seem like the sort to be intimidated by a guy just because of his outward appearance. He completely ignored her assumption that he wasn't. Of course he wasn't new around here... well not really anyway. He'd been around a few months, but it never took him long to establish himself. People could pick him out of a crowd quite easily. He just wasn't like most people, and was easily recognizable. Most people who saw him wouldn't forget him.. he was just that different from everyone else.