fight clubbin' ! — rp thread !

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    BROOKLYN, NEW YORK CITY — 1981


    brooklyn — new york city’s most crime infested borough in the twentieth century. whether you're an everyday commuter or a detective on a murder case, everyone's made well - aware of the steadily rising crime problems one way or another. be it a familial connection or something else, everyone seems forcibly tied with the dark underworld that practically rules their city. — but there's something new on the rise, something fresh — something the people of new york have yet to be exposed to. fight clubs. they're run by the nastiest of the nastiest, the worst of the worst. many go here to let off steam, or create some sort of alliance. not many seem aware of its true intentions just yet. the local police precincts have been all over them since day one, but one seems to continually elude them — brooklyn's own. it's by far the most popular, most overtly hidden of the city's ever growing ring. dozens of the best detectives have been on the tail of this case for months now, but can never get their hands on anyone but a lousy ex - fighter or two. just how deep does this rabbit hole go?


    — thread hub
    — plots
    — rules
    — characters

    Right so since I'm super impatient and I don't want this thread to die, I'm gonna post, I did't make this thread so if the little details are off, jet ! just pretend they don't exist and we'll all just ignore inconsistencies, other than that, here ya go:



    The Prince: Jeremy Prince ~ 40 ~ Male


    Jeremy Prince blinked awake in his one bedroom mangy moldy apartment. He sighed yet another day to have to suffer through and with that thought in mind, he yanked off the thin covers and trudged to the bathroom. Looking desolately into the mirror, he replaced some of the bandages from the day before, splashed some water on his face, and ran a comb through his medium length jet black hair. Ignoring the tiny black bristles that protruded from his tan skin, he grabbed a loose tank top and some gym pants. Wrapping his hands in white bandages, he shoved on some ratty old gym sneakers, grabbed his bag, and walked out the door, down the stairs and onto the subway. After eyeing some rather suspicious looking men on the subway, he found himself no longer in the Bronx but now in Brooklyn, he walked purposefully, through busy streets down an ally and into a basement level door below a brownstone storefront. Opening the door he nodded briefly to the two bouncers. strode past them and into the main area. The ring sat in the center, some benches on either side, cubbies behind those. Bookie and Indi's office to his right next to the door. The announcers table on the far side of the ring. He quickly placed his duffel bag in his cubby and the proceeded to start his warm-up.



    The Prodigy: Jonah Romanov ~ 19 ~ Male


    Jonah sat in his king sized mattress, in his two story apartment with a view of the skyline, visible from the pool on his balcony. He had the nicest apartment available in Brooklyn and was decidedly horrific in comparison to what he grew up in. With a drawn out sigh, he pulled himself from the warmth of the covers, pulled on a dark hoodie, black jeans and some lace up shoes. Strolled leisurely into his granite tile bathroom, splashed water into his face, shaved the minuscule amounts of hair that had sprung up on his baby face, and quickly brushed and jelled his hair. Strolling back to his bedroom, and through the french doors into his kitchen, he made some eggs, and a smoothie. Eating quickly he downed the eggs, dropped his phone and wallet into his pockets, and stuck on his badge. Trotting out the door, he set off briskly to hail a cab. Once he had arrived at the precinct, he overplayed, knowing that he had the money to spare and couldn't be bothered to count out the extra bills.


    "keep the change" He muttered, pulling himself out of the cab, closing the door as turned to face his job. With a deep breathe to ready himself, he set a brisk pace, entering through the doors and flashing his badge at the guard. Strolling in, he settled down at his desk, Iseul's desk next to his. Seeing the other man wasn't here yet, he sighed in boredom, then opened up his mac and started working his way through the files there, sorting the important ones, and trashing the ones that needed no further investigations. He hoped in among these files, would be a tiny crumb trail he could follow to the most notorious and most hidden fight club in Brooklyn.


    The Intern: Indira Malak ~ 24 ~ Female


    Indira Malak had spent the night asleep in Bookie's office. A reward for her hard work, was that she was given full access to his library(Can he have a library jet ! ) She adored reading, and especially loved to learn. Although she'd had a tough childhood she had in fact graduated high school, but back then she had nearly dropped out because she had wanted to get work. Regardless of the past, Bookie had given her a small taste for learning again and she spent most nights asleep in his office just reading. Most times she'd wake to him, but today she startled awake due to the combination of a nightmare, and The Prince walking in rather loudly. She wondered if he'd had a bad night, but he ignored her completely so she decided to snuggle back up to the book she'd fallen asleep on hoping to get a few more winks before the day started.


    The post was edited 1 time, last by Ech0 ().

    It had becoming worringly commonplace for Shigeru to awaken in places that weren't his usual living space. However, today, he awoke somewhere he recognized -- the club, he simply liked to call it, though to others it had plenty of uglier names. Months ago Shigeru had come across a ratty couch on the curb and decided the club was the perfect place for it. In reality Shigeru had just wanted a cheap couch in the club, even if it was gross, to laze on when he got the chance. He'd patched it up slightly since he got it, sewing miscoloured patches onto the holes and using his small bit of knowledge on sewing to make new pillows for it. He'd even thrown a soft blanket over the entirety of it to cover up the stains and make it so he wasn't rubbing his cheek against scratchy fabric when he laid on it. Now it was where Shigeru took all his cat naps.

    The bleach blond male stretched his arms above his head, letting out a tiny little groan. The male sat up, scratching the back of his head as his hair fell in his eyes. "Anybody home?" He called as he stood up, a couple of candy wrappers falling to the floor. He disregarded the little mess of his as he leaned over to pick up his phone from the floor, flicking it on. The screen was cracked from a party the previous week, in which Shigeru had accidentally dropped his phone while trying to coax one of his friends into dancing with him. Trying to repair it right now would be too exhausting, and the crack went right through the face of Shigeru's ex that appeared when the phone flickered on.


    Shigeru let out a little snicker at the lockscreen before tapping in his code. He once again ignored the dozens of emails from his family's lawyer, asking to contact him about his grandmother's wealth being left to Shigeru in her will. The money was in Shigeru's bank account but he dare not touch it until he deemed himself up to the standards his grandmother had wished for him. There was no reason for his parents to be bugging him now after ignoring him for so long, so he didn't think they deserved a response. Maybe he'd respond once he was drunk enough one day.

    Shigeru waited for the camera app to open, the process taking only a few seconds before he switched it to face him. "Ahh I look like shit..." Shigeru complained as he brushed his pink tipped bangs off to the side, then rearranging the rest of his hair piece by pink tipped piece. He stopped mid-rearranging, digging in his pocket to fish out his lip balm. He quickly dragged the strawberry flavoured balm across his bottom lip, rubbing his lips together before giving them a small 'smack'. 'Cute..' Shigeru thought to himself, admiring his face for a moment before shoving his lip balm back in his pocket and throwing his phone on the couch.

    Now, where was everyone?

    A FEARLESS LIAR / WHO DOESN'T MAKE MISTAKES ▵ PARK SHIGERU

    Ryder Bryce

    ___________________


    Ryder's gray orbs were closed as he pulled on his cigarette. The New York morning was brisk, and the man could feel the nipping chill through his seal leather jacket. He didn't mind. A fighter like Ryder Bryce couldn't be bothered by something as unimportant as the weather. Dropping his biri-welding hand, the male parted his lips to release a curl of silver smoke. The air was cold enough that he could have created a puff of steam using only the warmth of his breath, but that was too basic. Anyone could do that. Ryder wasn't just anyone.

    Opening his eyelids, the fighter's bluish gaze traveled across the familiar setting. He was outside of the fight club. Few people knew it by that name. Many just thought of it as a building. Maybe a bar or a garage storage. What went on behind the heavy stone walls was a secret. It was early to be there, and Ryder usually preferred to spend his non-fighting hours elsewhere, but a late-night walk had brought him here and he'd decided to stay until the sun had risen.

    He returned the cigarette to his awaiting maw and pulled the potent gas into his lungs. Ryder smoked to smoke. Truth be told, the blonde didn't even think he was really addicted to the toxic perfume. It was just something to do. And it was so Ryde Or Dye. He was renown for that biri in between his fingers, as much as he was for his dirty fighting style and egocentric take on the world. Blowing the smoke through his nostrils, Ryder flicked the cigarette to the gravel and crushed it beneath his heel. The man pushed himself away from the brick wall where he'd been leaning and strolled towards the front doors of the club. Maybe he would see if anyone was there. There usually was, and they always made his life a little bit more interesting.

    Dominika Petrov - She/Her - 28 years old - Ringleader


    The vixen of a woman watched from a dark corner of her club as more people she recognized piled inside. Her sharp grey eyes narrowed as she watched The Prince stroll inside. Her head lifted a bit, examining him. He had been around for a while but the two of them had never had a legit conversation. She didn't consider herself close to anyone in her club. She just didn't have the capacity to be close to anyone anymore. She thought she didn't have enough heart left to feel again. Dominika turned her cold gaze to Ryder as he walked into the old building. Her famous smirk curled onto her lips and she snickered softly. She stepped out of the dark corner, her thin heels clicking on the empty concrete floor. Her outfit clung to her curves in all the right places and her curly hair was pulled into a messy half ponytail, tendrils of her curls falling over her pale face. She smiled her twisted smile at her crew as she claps her hands together to get their attention.


    "Where's all the smiles and chipper faces? Tonight is supposed to be a big night." The Russian woman purred, her accent dripping off of the words she spoke like wax. She turned her attention to The Prince, seeing his serious grimace. She was in a playful mood, which was strange for the fatal female.

    The Prince: Jeremy Prince ~ 40 ~ Male


    Jeremy paused in his push ups, brown eyes grazing over all the heads turning to look at their ring leader. He pulled himself up into a standing position, and strode over quickly. Despite the woman's attempts to get people going, his face didn't even flicker towards a smile rather it remained in a serious expression that was his default. When she had finished speaking, he resumed his push-ups as if she had never spoken, clearly ignoring her purposeful eye contact. He was in no mood to play games with the vixen. In all honesty, he was usually just in no mood to play games period and therefore continued on. When he'd finished his mourning warm-up, he went over and took a long swig of his water, removed his loose tank top to help cool off, and went over to the chalk bored to sign up for a few fights, their weren't any names already up their so he placed his own name, "The Prince" into an open slot and turned to face the woman who had followed him around not so inconspicuously, "Can I help you Mrs. Petrov?" He asked, his voice liquidy sweet.


    OOC: I powerplayed Dominika so if she did anything out of character, lemme know and I'll edit my post.


    The Prodigy: Jonah Romanov ~ 19 ~ Male


    Waiting for a character to post in the Precinct

    The Intern: Indira Malak ~ 24 ~ Female


    Waiting for Bookie to respond and possibly wake her up somehow.

    Dominika Petrov - She/Her - 28 years old - Ringleader


    The Russian woman raised an eyebrow at the Prince as he spoke so boldly. She snickered and shook her head, her waves bouncing with the movement. Her dark eyes met his for a moment. She watched as he wrote his name in an empty slot and she crossed her arms over her chest. She had always been a very abrasive woman, she never held anything back. She didn't see the point. She opened her mouth to speak, her pink lips pursed. "You seem rather focused. It's not rare for you but you seem more narrowed in than usual." The woman said, her voice soft but silky. She walked closer to the Prince, her grey eyes focused on him.

    The Prince: Jeremy Prince ~ 40 ~ Male


    Jem stared her down, he'd been doing this for a while, and his bravery didn't leave him with the ring, "My emotions are none of you're concern so long as I can perform when called on" he said coldly. He hoped she wouldn't just walk away like everyone else did when met with that response, he missed having someone who truly cared about him, but he couldn't risk getting hurt again, so he pushed everyone away and settled for the simple comfort a glass of bourbon could bring. A reserved sigh was drawn from his lips and he broke eye contact first, she was the boss, therefore she deserved his respect, "I appreciate the concern" he said, sounding like he wanted to say more but quickly shut his jaw with a clack.


    The Prodigy: Jonah Romanov ~ 19 ~ Male




    The Intern: Indira Malak ~ 24 ~ Female



    Ryder Bryce

    ___________________


    Pushing open the door to the club with his broad shoulder, Ryder Bryce entered the familiar setting. Almost immedietely, the male's blue-gray orbs landed on Dominika, the Ringleader. She was as sightworthy as ever with her figure-hugging outfit (and boy, was her figure worthy of being hugged) and her overconfident mannerisms. Ryder allowed his stare to remain on her for several moments, slowly checking her out from her thick head of dark auburn hair to her thin high heeled shoes. Damn. The fighter instinctively reached for the box of cigarettes that was always secured in his front pocket, removing his attention from Dominika. Searching his clothing for the bulge of his lighter, the blonde's pupils wandered to the registration board. 'The Prince' was the only name on the fighting list. Huh. Recognizing the name, Ryder scanned dimly lit room for the fighter. He spotted him where Dominika was. The pair seemed to be having a spat. Placing the unlit cigarette between his teeth, the dirty blonde-haired man continued patting himself down in search of the lighter as he strolled towards the registration board. Although his focus was on the blank slots in front of him, his auds were tuned in on the conversation behind him. Who knows? It might be something that interested him.

    Dominika Petrov - She/Her - 28 years old - Ringleader


    The woman's narrow eyebrow cocked at Jeremy's bold words. She knew he had spunk but today, he was really in a mood. She laughed softly, shaking her head as her locks bounced. "You're really something, Mr. Prince, that's for damn sure." The vixen spoke and ran a hand through her thick locks. She turned her head as Ryder caught her attention. She glanced at his gaze, seeing his eyes scan her body. She snickered softly and then turned back to Jeremy, her grey orbs focusing on him. "I'm glad you appriciate it. Not a lot of people concern me. I could care less about most, if I'm being honest." Nika spoke, her accent thick on every syllable of every word she spoke. She smiled warmly at Jeremy, which was a rare sight. She wasn't sure why but she felt the need to be nice to Jeremy.