Welcome to Gaia! ::

Roan's entry to the bar area wasn't one to be missed by Sokoya. Though, just for orientation's sake, she was facing the other direction. It was the woman's scent that had given her away. The stench of old blood and old power. The smell she'd become acquainted with during a few visits to the DeSeer's business front.

In her casual sweep of the room, the pale demonkin would glance over her slender shoulder. Eyeing the devil along with the creepasaurus rex further behind her. A curt nod of respect before her attention was brought back to the cyborg and his offer of a drink. "Sure, surprise me." She would reply.

Let the words sink in.

Wait for it.

Almost there...

"Wait. Roen got arrested? For killing a whole island? Maybe I misread him." SoCo would comment offhandedly, humor having found it's way into her voice. For the little amount that she'd known the devil, he had never seemed to be the type to go out and off large groups of nobody.

She kinda liked it.

The cyberpunk noticed Roan as well, though not for the reason Sokoya had. He had no idea who she was. It was probably for the best. He paid the Cainite no more than a glance before returning his attention to the Bone chick. Nodding, the cyberpunk turned his head towards the bartender and ordered her a drink in his Guy Ritchie film accent. "A Flaming Doctor Pepper for the girl."

The barkeep nodded and immeadiatly began to make Sok's drink. Three quarters Amaretto, one quarter Everclear in a shot glass, and a pint of some dark colored beer in a pub glass was placed on the bar in front of her. "This is my favorite part," whispered Ed dreamily to no one in particular as the bartender lit the shot on fire with a spell and poured it's burning contents in the pub glass. The fire extinguished and the glass foaming at the top, the bartender pushed the glass closer to Sokoya before walking away to do other cool s**t. The cyborg clapped.

"Start drinking. I swear to all the Gods I don't believe in. That tastes like Doctor ******** Pepper."

He'd let her enjoy the drink, drinking his Guinness out of his own pub glass. It was comparatively boring to Sokoya's drink, but pints of the stuff Ed was drinking made you strong. Or really ******** drunk. Whichever came first.

"Well, not the whole island. A good bit of the island, but that's not to say he didn't have help. I heard he just summoned a bunch of... giant babies.. and they did all the work." The punk pondered, staring into his pint glass and frowning a tad bit. "Yeah, I didn't think he was into that either. How about you?"

Something told Edward that he didn't want to know the answer to that. He shrugged, took a gulp of Guinness, and asked anyways. "Do you enjoy the wholesale slaughter of a multitude of perfect strangers?"

"Hey!"

"Yeah, I'm talking to you."

"I'm gonna come over there and whoop yos a**."

Dejak was heading toward the building. Jack Offet was heading toward Derjak.

Jack was a very, big fan of Sephiroth. For the past few hours... days his life had been a total spiraling place crash into a dark abyss where childhood dreams were run over by semis and his mother was dead. His hero, his idol, his time to... Jack Offet was very much devoted to this select fighter. When he found out he was to be competing in this year's GTB he flipped out, cried, ate cheesecake and cried some more. But even the thick amounts of fat that surrounded his exterior couldn't help brace him for what he saw. He saw some nobody with a walking stick literally punk his best friend! Everything that he thought was real wasn't.

Screaming. And running. Jack was screaming and running. At Drejak.

"You took him away from me!" Jack sobbed out. His fat sloshed around as he charged toward the fighter. "I want my idol back!!"

BOO-

SPLASH!!!


He had been a five hundred or so pound boy. His waist was about as long as that wall that he had just hit.... like a water balloon. This was the first time it had ever happened. His giant ******** body literally exploded in a gush of blood, guts, Hot Pockets, membrane. All this human particles begin to land on or near Drejak.

Suddenly...

All the strands of flesh and tendon and blood and guts that had covered him from the fat bomb began to bubble up. Skin was beginning to form the pieces of Jack that had got on Drejak. Jack was coming back....

The obese boy's face formed on the man's back.

"I'll... I'll kill you! Sephiroth was my hero!"

A...flaming doctor pepper? Sokoya was mildly bemused when the cyborg punk ordered her drink. The woman's curious gaze shifting off of him to watch the bartender fulfill the order. One slender eyebrow would raise as the man behind the counter lit one part of the concoction, and then plunked it into the larger glass.

Ok then...

Sip, sip.

Not bad.

Giving a small nod of approval, the platinum haired vixen would revert to paying the man beside her attention. The man and his story of giant city destroying babies. "Er...what?" Sokoya would ask, incredulously. She couldn't rightly picture such an act, let alone someone who thought themselves so cool preforming it. And his question? It was a tough one.

Her whole life, Sokoya had sick inner desires buried deep within her personality. The desire to hurt, maim. To bleed and ache herself. Problem being, they were sectioned away into a separate personality. This allowed the girl to stay sort of normal, changing into a device of murder only by a certain 'switch'. Problem with that being that the two persona's merged during the course of The Dark Tournament.

Now, there was just a woman who ate people. Fought for fun. And had some small glimmer of who she once was in the dark recesses of her mind. So did she enjoy the wholesale slaughter of strangers. "No. Mass murder isn't personal enough. It's not intimate enough."







Oh, Mormon Jesus was still there. Eating silverware and s**t.

- PIME TARADOX -

Night time, Hotel Bar

...
...

It was some late time at night in which the swordsman found himself sitting at one of far tables inside the hotel bar almost devoid of customers, sipping on some non-alcoholic cocktail idly, some finished plates resting near the corner and a half-eatened grizzled slab of steak with mashed potatoes and rice on the side in front of his presence. After leaving the infirmary for god knows how long, the swordsman was waiting for the news like any other fighters, deciding to use this time late at night to enjoy a bit of food and good cocktails to keep himself entertained for the moment.
He wore the same uniform that was used in the first round fight against Rylen - his foe during that time - and specks of charred cloth hung from some parts of his longcoat...burnt areas which he'll have to fix soon. With his hood pulled back and his crimson red hair shining a bit under the ample lighting, the swordsman had left most of his gears in his hotel room, carrying only his dual wielding katanas with him out of habit.

It was a good place to eat. Not many people to worry about, and he'll have a pretty pleasing view of the night time scenery from the window nearby. Add that with some food and drinks - and it'll definitely be much better than enjoying the food and drinks alone in his room instead.

He settled his drink down on the side gently, fixating his attention currently to do some light maintenance on his weapons in the meantime. The edge reflected a bit of the light from above, causing it to glisten with a cool, silverish hue as he wiped it using a small towel soaked with cold water to clean the blood and grime off the edge; wiping the steel and polishing it up for the next match. If the match results go in his favor, of course...

His eyes narrowed, checking the sharpness and patting the wet towel over it slowly, occasionally bringing the sharp edge to a whetstone he took from his room for further maintenance.

Wipe wipe.
Scrub scrube.
Scrape scrape.

Using the intervals between the maintenance to eat, drink or enjoy the somewhat quiet space, time ticked idly away as the swordsman took his time to keep his gears in top shape.