View source for Sasha - Cat-Fight Night/Log

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Alright so, Darling has driven Sasha out to the boondocks. Well, actually to a town east of Albuquerque that's name is spanish. Santa something or another. The sign was dusty and it was dark, cause it's well into the night before the Cadillac pulls into a parking lot at a place one might classify as a honky tonk. It's a redneck bar for sure, the music thudding out of it country - the new kind with songs about wallowing in being 'simple' and driving trucks, and getting drunk and sentimental. The place is packed. Darling smiles at her passenger and grasshopper. "Well, if you can't get into a fight here, you either ain't trying or you're already dead."

Sasha is generally NOT a scaredly-cat, but when she asked for fighting lessons, she wasn't expecting a brawl at a dumpy bar. As such, she's slumped down in the passenger seat, looking entirely unenthusiastic about the upcoming 'lesson'. "Dude, you know I was okay with punching a sandbag, right? I didn't have to go around scratching some crazy bitch's eyes out, or worse yet, have MY eyes scratched out."

"How you gonna learn otherwise?" Darling tsks, "I'll give you some pointers, then you go in and put them into practice. Alright? I swear I'll step in before you can get your eyes scratched out." Trust me! Right. "First off, put your hair up." She gestures like she ought to put it into a ponytail at the very least. God knows crazy bitches be pulling hair.

Sasha groans, but does reach up to adjust her hair. Oh, wait. She actually picks up the long black hair... wig! And tosses it in the backseat, leaving far shorter (REAL) brownish-red hair behind, which is then pulled back into a messy ponytail. "Shouldn't we start at an elementary school or something? This place looks a bit... rough." She ventures while peering at the trucker bar.

Darling inspects the hair and nods once she seems satisfied with it. "It is rough, but it ain't like you're going to go toe to toe with some huge fella. They don't hit no women but their wives, at home. You'll be fine." She smiles big then, cause the lesson is about to begin. "Now, getting into a fight is real easy. Finishing it is the hard part. You're gonna have the advantage, cause for one thing - you ain't drunk and for another, you ain't angry."

"Where am I aiming for, then? Kick in the kanoodles?" Sasha continues to steal worried glances at the bar. "Eye poke? Nipple twist?" Someone has been watching Three-Stooges-Fights.

Darling's brow furrows, but she's patient, she'll get Sasha straightened out. "There's gonna be a lot of flailing, alright? She's probably gonna be trying to slap you, and failing that she'll grab hold of any part of you she can. So what you want to do is either get one good punch in or put her on the ground quick as you can." She demonstrates, turning in her seat to reach over and grab as much of Sasha's top she can in both hands near either shoulder. "Grab hold, lean back as she comes at you and swing her like a bag of potatoes. Then let go. If you got your foot in the right place she'll land on her face. Then jump aboard and go to work. Got it?"

Her eyes briefly go wide as her top is grabbed, but hey, it's for a good cause, right? "Got it, got it." Sasha hurries to nod her understanding of Darling's teachings. "Grab, lean and swing, sounds simple enough. So then I can straddle her, then karate-chop her into unconsciousness?"

"Hopefully!" Darling smiles all cheerful like, considering she's getting happy about a random drunk girl being hillbilly judo'd. "If she's on her face, just grab hold of her head and start bashing it into the floor. If she's face up, just slap the tar out of her. Got it?" Sure, sounds real easy, but things have a habit of not going according to plan. Remember the last outing?

Sasha is trying NOT to remember, thanks. "Right. You make sure I don't get blindsided by other bitches, yo? I totally need to concentrate on one bitch at a time." Beat, and looks down at Darling's hold on her top. "You can let go now also, thank you."

Darling gives the gothling a little shake and then lets go, grinning momentarily as she does. "Alright. Let's go!" Are you excited? Cause she's totally excited. Whee! She pops her door open, swings her feet out and she's outta the car just like that. The door shuts and she bounces up ahead.

Sasha isn't nearly as excited as she gets out of the car, but she tries to work herself up by punching a fist into her other hand repeatedly. "Alright, bitches. Welcome to the House of Pain." She murmurs to herself as she hurries behind Darling. It's entirely unclear whose pain will get inflicted.

There will be pain, and probably blood. This bar, which the neon lit sign proclaims as "Big Al's", looks like its seen a brawl or two. Darling holds the door, cause she's polite like that and the bad country music comes pouring out to echo out over the parking lot. Boom-boom-twang! Inside, there's cowboys every -damn-where. Hicks in tight jeans, plaid shirts, cowboy hats and boots. There's also girlfriends in similar attire and a few gaggles of single girls, fawning over or dancing with the boys. Darling heads to the bar, passing a game of pool in progress and skirting the edge of a dance floor that's a tangle of rednecks of both genders.

Sasha stops at the threshold to take in the ambience of the bar. Cowboys? Hicks? "Shit." The gothling notes sagely to herself, but moves to follow Darling past the pool table and dance floor. "I feel like a Brooklyn Brutha in a Klan Savannah conference, man." Yes, she sticks close to blondie for the moment. "You sure this is a good idea?"

"It ain't the worst one I've ever had." Darling smiles a little, inspiring all kinds of confidence, right? This she says at the bar, because she's found a bit of space there and has moved right in. From the dinged up barstool she hawk-eyes the place, checking everything and everybody out. She nods slightly to herself during and when she's through. This will do! "Alright, the floor is yours. Go get 'em New York."

"Alright. Showtime." Sasha shoots one look at Darling, then glances up and down the bar looking for a suitable target. Well, the dance floor looks promising. Making her way towards it, the gothling comes up behind some dancing hick chick, and taps her on the shoulder...

And the hick chick, being slightly pasted and having a grand old time cutting a rug, whirls around. She's smiling at first, cause she was probably expecting a boy or at least a girl she knew to be doing the tapping - but she doesn't know any goths. And she definitely doesn't know /this/ goth. Her smile fades and a brow is arched. She doesn't have to say it. Her expression is 'Yes?'.

Sasha clears her throat and straightens up. Gothling - not goth! "Yeah, sorry about interrupting your dance, but I need to get some practice in tonight. Nothing personal." With that, she reaches up abruptly for the hick chick's top like Darling showed her, and if she manages to grab hold of her target, Sasha is going to try to do that potato-swing maneuver!

<<Inits and Rolls ensued>>

Yeah, what? Hick Chick's one eyebrow just goes up higher until it's at the maximum it'll go. She clearly does not know what's in store for her, but all the talking has at least alerted her to the weirdness of the situation so when Sasha suddenly grabs hold of her plaid shirt - she starts to struggle. Unfortunately, she's a terrible struggler and when she gets swung, she really goes. WHAM! She gets a hand down to stop her fall, but her arm folds up under her on impact and she goes sprawling.

Success! With the hick chick tossed like a sack of potatoes on to the floor - and no doubt scattering various people due to the sheer surprise of the situation - Sasha jumps on her victim, straddling her around the waist and grabbing her pretty blonde hair with both hands. "Sorry!" The gothling calls, before trying to slam the hickess' head down on the floor. And again. And again!

The fight is off to a great start, really. Darling looks on from the bar with an encouraging smile on her face, even if Sasha really hasn't the time to notice that. As she hops aboard the hick's back, she starts to squirm and buck. The head slam sorta works, like her head is made to connect with the floor and there's a whump! but she's moving so much that the blow is glancing and the gothling can't repeat the feat. Hell, she's already managed to drag herself out from under her and dragging herself upright again. Now, she's not surprised so much, she's just pissed. Around the pair, the dancers have begun to stop and take notice of the brawl.
Somebody in the crowd yells, "CAT FIGHT!"

This is getting almost embarrassing; since Sasha fails to bash the hick's face into the floor and even lets her get out from underneath, the gothling resorts to some serious arm flailing and bitchslapping, and a bit of nail-clawing for good measure. And since the hick is a good three inches taller than the slender gothling, the bitchslapping contest is quickly going against Sasha!

Meticulously choreographed kung fu showdown this is not. Hick chick is pissed the hell off and not the type to fold up and cry. Nor, apparently, is she one to really flinch when slapped. Not that Sasha's bitchslap was a poor one, oh no, it connected with a resounding slap-crackle-pop but the cowgirl has momentum going and her hand is coming down from up high like some sort of righteous hand of God to deliver a smiting that's gotta leave the poor gothling's teeth rattling in her head afterwards. WHACK!

A few 'oooooohs' can be heard nearby, some of the cowboys wince, some of them laugh. They're all loving the show.

Owowow! The slapping not only hurts, but it's so hard it sends Sasha reeling back a step, probably giving her whiplash in the neck as well. Oh yes, there's actually a trickle of blood at the corner of her lips from that slap! "Goddammit." She growls when she tastes blood, and throwing caution to the wind, the gothling jumps forward to tackle the cowgirl. By some minor miracle, she connects and after a few moments of grappling against the bar, Sasha manages to twist the hick chick's arm behind her back and press her bodily against the bar counter.

Cowgirl was reaching out to grab a good hold of Sasha's ponytail, which made it that much easier for her to grab the wrist and pin her arm back. Now, being manhandled so, she starts screaming. After all, she has no freaking clue why this strange chick has picked a fight with her and this turn is definitely for the worse. "HELP!" She manages to squawk, but the cowboys watching don't rush in. Not when there's potentially hair pulling and shirt ripping off of-ing in the works. The people that do stir are other girls, from a corner table - friends perhaps. Though they can't see for the crowd what's going on, they hear the cries and begin standing up. Wuh oh.

Sasha pins the twisted arm, and once she's certain hick chick isn't breaking free, gives it a sharp yank that should be nicely painful. Yes, she knows her victim will reflexively struggle from the pain, so Sasha leans in what weight she has to keep the cowgirl pinned against the bar. Friends? Sasha's too preoccupied with one bitch to worry about multiple bogies!

Darling is on top of the friends situation, well, she seems aware of them as she does glance off that way to keep tabs on them. There is of course the more interesting spectacle to watch though, the one she has a ringside seat for. She smiles her approval as hoots are hooted in the audience that's slowly gathering. They love their fights. Conversely, the hick chick doesn't seem to like this one. She twists and kicks and when all that gets her is squashed to the bar with a wrenched arm, she starts screaming and crying.

Sasha just isn't a particularly strong girl, and is clearly finding it difficult to cause more injuries to the cowgirl. Despite so, she somehow manages to keep her victim pinned against the bar, crying and screaming comfortably ignored. "Hey!" She turns to Darling while struggling against the hick chick. "I think this is.... enough practice!"

Darling half squints to look all sage-ly for a moment and nods. "I agree." And partly because that party of redneck girls is starting to move across the dance floor to see what the hell is going on. She hops off her barstool and makes a keys turning in the ignition sort of hand gesture to suggest that she's gonna go start the getaway vehicle up. Hick chick, she's still squirming and trying to get free. And crying. And screaming at the indignity and WTFness of the whole situation. This also attracts the bartender, a big bastard with a chrome dome. He looks distinctly unhappy.

More hick chicks, and now a bartender. Yeesh. Sasha watches Darling flee from the corner of her eyes, while she stays for a while longer to stall for time. "Look.... at the bright side, sistah!" The gothling grunts with the effort of holding down the struggling cowgirl. "...You got in a real... good shot!" Lurching forward to slam the hick chick against the bar counter one more time, Sasha suddenly releases the twisted arm and bolts! She may not be much of a fighter, but the girl's excellent at running. She's bounding for the exit like a speeding bullet!

Yeehaw! It's just another saturday night in Cowpokeville. There's some whoots and some jeers as the fight comes to an end, obviously the boys wanted more. But, it looks like they'll have to wait all of five minutes for the next fight to break out. The bartender, used to the routine, glares and shakes his head but that's about it. The real trouble are those girls. They see their friend crumpled against the bar, tears running down her face, lip split and one arm held like it's been broken and they turn into a pack of jackals. They bound for the door, screaming profanity that would make a sailor blush. Darling, luckily, is already out the door and practically at the car. She's no slouch at the running away either, even if she's laughing while she's doing it.

Sasha speeds through the door and heads straight for the getaway car, stopping only long enough to open the door to jump in. "Gogogogogogo!" She urges. Seat belts? Pfffft, seat belts are for sissies. "Let's get outta here! These bitches are gonna go all Caged Heat on my ass!"

Sasha's not too far off the mark. The first one out the door, a snarling redhead, hauls off and throws a bottle of beer at the gothling. It shatters on the pavement well shy, but it's not an encouraging sign. Darling by that time is in behind the wheel, has the Caddy started and is throwing it into reverse. She doesn't wait for seatbelts to be done up, or even doors to be shut all the way. Once the gothling is mostly in, she's got that car lurching backwards at speed. Another bottle arches through the air and hits a pickup truck, bounces off the roof and disappears into the shadows. Darling tips her head back and yeowls, jamming the car into first and spinning the tires as she does. Given that the girls pouring out of the bar after them aren't supernatural in anyway, once the car gets some speed there's no chance they'll ever catch them.
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