Step City

None of the mindfulness lessons Trevor’s therapist had taught him in keeping calm and collected in periods of extreme emotions seemed to be doing a whole load of nothing when the Clown left his flat, all stormy rage when he found Ayrin and the two of them made their way out of UG to find some trouble.

He hated feeling so …stupid. So fucking betrayed to find out the woman he’d been reconnecting with was a fucking Square all along. He hated that his choice was ripped away from him to choose if he still wanted to connect after finding that out, hated she wasn't just clear with him-He hated feeling his trust made him feel stupid.

Sharp bursts of shapes and jagged curls of confetti left a breadcrumb trail behind the two UG, like a thunderstorm of cute shapes and bad choices for any other orange person to pick up the trail if everything went wrong.

“Thanks…” The Clown sniffed, clown nose still in place despite any smearing of his makeup and the redness of his eyes. “ For coming with me.” Trevor appreciated that Ayrin didn't talk much, didn't pry and only wanted to make him feel better with something he knew would work way better than any breathing exercise or meditation.

Tearing up the skin from his knuckles and kicking someone's shit in.

“Course’-” Sometimes the best medicine is bruising and bleeding.

Dealing with emotions was not Ayrin’s strong suit, especially when handling others. There was however something the two had in common here for management. Of course being his friend this was a given to take him out for a session. She flexed and cracked the knuckles in her hands. Her own way of trying to make Trevor feel less alone in his feelings she adds- “I need to blow off some steam too.”

The two of them march down lightning street, and honestly this was the best time for it. Residents were glued to the whacky stream at home and in bars on tvs. The majority of patrols would be on the lookout for drunk ditos rather than a pair of UG. Making their narrowing down fight picking much easier.

Ayrin is able to kick over a trash-can onto the purple side with minimal pushback and just a couple passers by giving them a wide berth.

Trevor made a hum of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, it’s just 🎵one of those days🎵 it seemed. Maybe when it was all said and done and either them or whoever they found was lest busted and bleeding, he might ask Ayrin more about what she knew about Vel-

The clown knew Ayrin was an Ex-Square, had taken to UG life a lot more seriously than other Ex-Squares if her fight record was to be believed, which it was, he’d caught most of her fights when he could…

He felt a slight huff of laughter as Ayrin kicked over a trash can, starting to get in that thrashing mood as he gave it another hard kick for good measure, spreading trash all over. He was already limbering up, bouncing from foot to foot before he wound his leg back and kicked a can further into Purple’s side.

They were Team Kick Party tonight!

That is when she froze like a predator spotting its prey. Eyes locked onto something. . . someone. Someone she had not seen since. . . Her mind flashed through old memories with Nails. This older man was present wasn’t he- younger then but, features very distinguishing. He knew didn’t he?

“Found our mafia target.” She speaks under her breath to Trevor with a fire that contrasts her normal flatness.

He was not that far- she could sprint over and- As she was thinking it her feet were already moving. From a walk to a run, fists clenched.

The night had been fruitful, though more difficult then Mani would have liked. Espionage today, one cilent jealous and suspecting another of something foul. He usually didn't like taking jobs that pit him against people that paid him, but the cred was too good to pass up. What he had been homing to avoid was a throwdown. Unfortunately that's exactly how the night had gone: someone that was certainly never going to pay him again after he showed them up on stream. He had delivered the goods, taking a heavy blow to the hip that had left him aching and wanting to get home and do something stimulating: Cooking.

He'd wound up deciding on something with Okra. So he hit the market on lightning street. There were a few stalls that tended to have good quality ingredients, and with nothing better to do with the rest of his night, he committed to sourcing as much as he could.

It was when he was at a stall specialising in hard cheeses that he let his guard down. There was some amazing smelling product. A couple of mature Yarg, a bit of Grana Pidano, and some Poacher that all looked sublime. He picked up one of the packers to give it a good smell, when he heard it a second too late, the crunch of a heavy footstep right next to him. He didn't have time to fully turn before a large, pallid fist buried itself in his cheek and sent him reeling.

He stumbled sideways, neck tweaked from the abrupt force. As he cemented a foot in the ground, he turned the aggressor immediately apparent, and not alone.

"Behr?" He asked, footing ready to dodge backwards if another attack came his way, but he wasn't looking for a fight. Not yet anyway.

Trevor's eyes followed Ayrin as she stomped over and socked a creepy ass looking FM in the face, letting out a loud ‘Fuck yeah!’ as he came to join in the fray, light on his feet as he neared the cheese table.

The Clown’s gaze shifted to the table of cheese for a moment, the gourmand in him didn’t want to knock over some of the cheesy fruits of someone's labour, cutting through the anger slightly like a harsh whiff of a freshly cut wedge of Limburger.

So in his haze, he angrily took out his wallet, threw down on the table the credits needed for a fist-sized wedge, picked it up and threw the Danish inspired cheese at the FM with a hoot and holler, nailing him in the chest.

“Get Maribo’d, fucker!”

“Hey old man-” Ayrin lets out a deep under breath laugh as the cheese splatters over his clothes.She raises her first and giving the fingers a flex after that impact. “A treat to find an old Mafioso out tonight.”

Now as the rest of the street was becoming aware of the throwdown, passersby were backing off, stalls wer shuffling their wares back away from the unruly entered duo. A small larger clearing forming. Her hand outstretched toward him reballing into a fist again. The heel of her foot stomping to the rythm of lightning street. “We’re gonna wreck your shit.”

Before a street DJ bot can even react to the scene unfolding she lunged in again with a wild uncontrolled swing of her leg. 6

He was too old, fought too many times to be caught entirely off guard now he knew there was a present threat. But there was a lot in front of him. The Behr kid? Alongside another Underground, some punk dressed up like a clown. It was Mani's job to know any credible threats, should he ever be hired to throw down with the rabble. The clown wasn't ringing any bells. He continued to move his his rock step, attention mostly on little Behr. Big Behr now.

"I'm surprised you came over. I owe you for breaking Nails heart." He replied. Behr began to build up Vibe, and he straightened up a little, making his movements longer and more pendulous to maximise his own Vibe generation. Not a moment later, and a splat hit him in the chest, as a wedge of soft cheese smeared against his front, clinging to the weave of his coat. He looked up and over, but quickly realised Behr was stepping forwards. He grabbed the clasp of his coat and pulled it, spinning into a step backwards to avoid the incoming kick, and whipping off his coat in one fluid movement, using it to keep a little space between he and Ayrin, before dropping it and reaching to the back of his hakama, drawing the knife he had stowed.

He was backing away slowly, and circling, keeping his eye on the clown as Behr loomed, the more present threat.

**[Roll 6, Round 1 draw]**

Trevor was feeling energised for the cheese splat on the vampire-looking Muther Funker, letting out a chuckle as Mani had to take his jacket off- Why was this fucker so ripped not wearing a shirt under his jacket? It didn't even make sense for the style of the jacket to not to, like wearing boots without socks! It was almost as distracting as the FM’s words and knife.

“Nails is that mallgoth fucker, right? From the radio shit?” Trevor asked Ayrin quietly as they remembered seeing her as Tiffany as Ayrin and they had hunted for the spooky signal from South of the Island around Halloween.

“Ugh, Ayrin owes nobody shit. Fuck your creepy daughter and fuck YOU!” The Clown’s yelled as he slipped his hands into his pockets to feel for the cool weight of metal and slipped his fingers through as his legs began kicking up a storm.

I caught your eye on the back of the bus like you wanted
You wanna know why I don't come around anymore?
Well, it's so fucking obvious

The harsh singing tore from Trevor’s causing bursts of colourful pastel shapes and confetti to rain down over the two UG, the DJ bot nearby picked up the lyrics to PUP-Old Wounds and began blaring the punk son through its speakers, ready to mash up any other songs the other Steppers wanted to add.

Can't stand you hanging 'round lately
Can't stand you trying to save me
It's so fucking frustrating!

A similar burst of fluffy shapes and confetti, followed by the sounds of party favours, tambourines and party poppers began to appear around Mani’s head. Then suddenly a 16 inch deep dish Pizza materialised in front of the FM’s face at record speed, followed by a swift clown-themed knuckle duster punch as Trevor darted forward, using the Pizza as cover, slamming both metal, fist and hot freshly made pizza square into the FM's jaw and face in a splat of hot sauce and crack of metal on bone before darting back a few steps.

[12 Crit Hit]

“Yeah the sweaty looking goth.” She acknowledges Trevor’s curiosity. Her eyes lock in on the knife as her center point head following it when she hops up into pirouette. The temperature around them dropping with each rotation.

“Emotionally weak.” She is said with a blandness that makes it hard to tell if it is in response to Nail’s broken heart or the fatherly defense it was rooted in. “If our last fight didn’t settle her emotions she can fight me herself, but this isn’t about her.”

With the beautifully hot pizza attack as a cover and her ice build up from her raised foot- She flicks her leg out, kicking a sharp shard of ice towards Mani. "This is for the Mafia."

[8]

The music... *noise really*... started. Mani's attention was still mostly focussed on Behr, tracking her motion whilst trying to figure out what would be a good mix with this *shit* the clown had chosen. He could see she was revving up for something, goosebumps beginning to run down his arms as the temperature dropped.

Then his vision was obscured in a pop. Was... was that a pizza? He was taken aback, instinctively pulling his head back to avoid the obstacle. The clown had been deceptively fast. Even pulling away from the edible distraction and shifting his weight backwards to ready himself for his next move, the fist came through it. Spittle of hot grease stung his face, before the feeling of metal cracked against his cheek. Another tweak to the neck as his head was rotated in the other direction. The pain was a bright flash that stunned him for a moment, and instinct took over, rolling away from the punch with his head and shoulders and skirting his feet around to fall back into position as he curled back around.

The icicle didn't hit him point first. The fist had rocked him so far off course that it caught his traps about halfway down it's shaft, the ice splintering and leaving small grazing cuts as it sailed past. Mani was still recovering from one hit, his eyes watering from the rapid temperature changes and the grease stinging his eyelids.

He threw out his knife, far off to the right side of either of them, using timing and years of practice to judge where it would be to catch with his shadow. It caught the knife in a spinning motion, slashing in an arc for the clown's back and Behr's abdomen. His aim wasn't perfect under the current situation, and slash or not, he was planning on brining the knife back to his hand.
"The Implication - Parrotfish" He barked out to the DJ bot, hoping the more mellow tune could make some sense out of this noise. He looked over to Ayrin, stepping back into his dance and swinging the knife should the clown come forwards.

"Then come on, Black Sheep."

**[Round 2: M 13 VS UG 14]**
**[Mani 0, UG 1.5]**

https://open.spotify.com/track/5KUK7rDJuv28K10lb1gM7r?si=da3ade99acae423a

A hiss slipped between the Clown’s large teeth as the knife nicked him, though the pain just lent in the harshness of his singing as he belted out the next few lyrics.

I'm bored of the games, and bored of the chase
That's the reason I left in the first place

There was a slight instrumental lull as Trevor’s arms and legs swung about in large arcs as he bounced in time with the drums as more confetti rained around the makeshift arena.

You keep trying to rip open old wounds!

Trevor attempted to make another pizza appear above Mani’s head and try the same trick again, coming in for a punch-

It's so embarrassing, don't you know I'm over you?!

Though the tear in his shoulder twinged as he went in for a punch, throwing of his center of balance a bit as he tried. [6]

Distracted by the sudden conflicting soundtracks for a moment her feet move off rhythm. Mani’s knife cutting deep into Ayrin’s torso as she practically lunged into it as it passed between the two UG.

[2- crit FAIL]

Unable to recuperate for an attack she jumps back to gather more space and reassess the situation for her next action. She did her best to grit through it but it was clear that hit did a number on her from her grit teeth and tensed pose.

The cold faltered for a moment before the chill began to build back again.

The clown continued to scream and approach, and Behr fell back. As he whipped the knife around, her blood skittered off of it's end and sprayed in a thin line on the ground. Mani took a step back, looking down at the clown's feet to see the motion he was readying. Another Pizza came in to obscure his vision. The same trick wasn't going to work more then once. He let his dance flow sideways as he stepped, turning his torso as he did so. The clown's punch was weaker then the first, and with everything going into it, he left himself open.

Mani twisted his torso and continued his steps, weaving back towards the clown and rotating into a heavy elbow aimed right for that ridiculous nose. His foot slid behind the clown's foot, the full motion aiming to smash the clown in the face then trip him to force him between Mani and Behr. The time bought by throwing this *tasteless idiot* in front of the two of them should let him build more Vibe before engaging the more dangerous of the two. Still, he needed to keep an eye out on this one. Not only causing distractions, but wasting perfectly good food. Then again, it probably tasted as loud and obnoxious as it's creator.

"Did you bring the clown for the laughs? Because he is pathetically funny."

**[Round 3: M 13 VS UG 8]**
**[Mani 1, UG 1.5]**

Stars burst brightly in Trevor’s vision as the elbow connected with his nose, followed by literally cartoon-shaped stars from his Vibe appeared around his head, Clown nose sailing off into the pavement below. He lurched with the throw, sent back towards Aryin, landing on his shoulder but with enough momentum was able to follow the motion through in a tumble. As he rolled up to his feet, he could feel the burn and drip of blood from his nose, his eyes watering and his left wrist a little tweaked.

Any pain was what he wanted now, whether it was his or this fucking FM’s.

Now you wanna know where I've been lately?

Time to shake it up a bit. Trevor used the space to belt out the next part with very little Skanking as the air around Mani began to fill with the rich, thick aroma of Mani’s favourite sauce.

You wanna know if I'm still a prick?



and you're not gonna change me

There was a manic grin at Mani’s ‘joke’. Every FM thought they were a comedian, ripping on Trevor for his look. The same goddamn joke every goddamn time.

Uninspired.

Basic.
BORING!!,

So you got another guy goin' with you
You say you like him, but he's got a bad attitude
Well, maybe he's perfect for you!

There weren't a bunch of bells and whistles with this Vibe move, but Trevor through his blurred vision and manic energy tried to aim the sudden generation of a Fist sized amount of Mani’s favourite sauce hot out of the pot for Mani’s face [7]

Prickling up with defensive rage, Ayrin’s eyes seared a sharp icy blue. Flecks of ice swirling around her movements begin to pick up speed as a small pocket of winter weather starts to stick to various surfaces. Her wound freezing over for the time being- “Yeah- we are out for a laugh-”

Lunging forward with another spin and aiming her ice covered leg at the side of his torso. “-but the joke’s on the other end.”

[7]

Mani squared up again, flowing into his next steps as the two Underground began to follow up with their next barrage. Putting the clown in the centre paid off, to an extent. Behr had to move around him to get at Mani. It gave Mani enough time to prepare for the next attacks to the best of his ability.

Mani tried to move to the side, his plan initially to slide just out of range of Behr's kick and lode the blade into something soft to slow her down. The spray of searing sauce stopped him mid move, caught between the prospect of a heavy blow or burns. He twisted his knife arm, putting the point in the way of Behr's incoming kick, and tried to brace himself. The Ice added more weight and protection then he'd anticipated. The knife cracked the ice, maybe even got a centimetre or two into the shin, but the force of the blow twisted his wrist and weakened his grip on it, the knife sliding back in his hand, cutting into the soft of his palm, and driving the hilt into his ribs, transferring the energy into a point and smashing the wind out of him.

He stumbled back, the glob of sauce splashing across his neck and shoulder, the immediate scalding pain causing a growl of pain to escape. Mani fell backwards, falling into his shadow and leaving the sauce bubbling and sizzling against the cold floor.

His shadow blinked from one side of Behr to the other, and Mani erupted from it in a spinning motion, knife now in his other hand, and aimed in a downward ice-pick stab at Behr's shoulder. His foot came around in something of a one legged drop kick aimed for the clown's throat. Get another deep wound in Behr to slow her down, and stop that Groove-awful singing from the clown for a moment.

**[Round 4: M 12 VS UG 14]**
**[Mani 1, UG 2.5]**

And maybe he deserves less trouble than you gave him
Or maybe he deserves his face in the pavement

Trevor exhaled with a wince as he watched the FM disappear into the shadows which chilled him to the bone. Memories of his brief forced date with one of FM’s other freaky shadow users flashed across his vision as he raised his fist in a defensive position, though it was hard to guard when you didn’t know where your opponent could strike from.

You keep trying to rip open old wounds
It's so embarrassing, don't you know I'm over you?

The slash to his back and the strike to his nose were doing no favours in helping his spy where this grandpa could appear, his eyes darting from every shadow.

And I'm trying to get it straight
Why the fuck I came back in the first place

But then Mani appeared where he wasn't looking and there was suddenly a boot kicking him hard in his chest, knocking him off balance and onto the floor, winded [4].

Ayrins kick cut across and the knife blocking slices through her ice into the meat of her leg. Her piercing gaze flicked over her should just in time in a ballet bow out of the way. The knife grazed the back of her neck leaving a long red spider line of cut that leaked slow-. Trevor less lucky with that kick.

“Focus on getting that other hand to drop the knife-” She hisses and makes another kick, no ice build up this time. Aiming for the back of Mani’s legs to knock him off balance. The snowstorm around them continues to pick up from flurries to gusts.

[10]