fight of the ages.— [freya/victor]

Victor Strauss was pissed off.

He was pissed off at the lack of potential at the training centers. He was pissed off that the careers the district was producing were failing at bringing home the crown. They had had one victor in the last twenty years. It was a fucking joke, a joke that was getting old very quick. It was because of this reason he found himself walking into one of the training centers that littered the district, boots scrapping on polished floors.

The building itself was impressive and he ran a hand over the arrangement of throwing knives that hung on one of the walls. The weapons were in top condition, well maintained. Pulling one of the knives free from its hold he runs a finger over the edge of the blade, shifting it from one hand to the other. It was well balanced, crafted to perfection. Frowning he carefully places it back into the wall, his arms flowing across his chest as he takes in the extravagance of the room.

So it wasn't the lack of resources, top-of-the-class equipment, weaponry.

Huffing he moves deeper into the center, coming to a stop outside a classroom where two kids held bows, shooting arrows under the guidance of a trainer. Victor leans against the doorway, watching with cold eyes as the boy fails time and time again. Had it been one of his children they would have fit the target by now, or they would be running laps, their name at the top of the list to be one of the next pair that would fight to the death.

"Hey it's alright, you didn't hit the target, but you hit the very edge of it. You just need to aim a little more to the left and keep practicing, it won't be perfect right away."

Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me. Frustration laced with anger surges through him as he scoffs in the trainer's direction, looking down at her with lips hooked back into a venous scowl. "You're too soft with them," he starts, pushing himself from the wall and moving deeper into the room as the woman dismissed the children, allowing them to escape from words that might give them thicker skin. He watched as they disappeared into the changing rooms. It was pathetic, no wonder why district two was so fucking soft, skin as thin as paper.

It would seem he had found one of the pivotal reasons for the weakness of district two. How could we expect to breed warriors when our trainers were fucking princesses?

"They don't respect you. Hell, no wonder we can't seem to produce decent careers. Trainers like you are to blame," he spits, slowly looking the girl up and down. As pretty as she was useless.

"You do have some nerve coming over and telling me how to do my job, you know that? They respect me just fine, fear is the word you're looking for. Fear and respect aren't the same things, they never have been. Now, are we done here or are we going to have a problem?"

"Do you're job?" He grunts with a harsh bark of laughter. "If you were doing your job, love, those kids would be hitting the bloody target." He gestures towards the target, one that was piss easy for Issabel who couldn't be any older than the children he had been observing a few moments ago. Hell, Issabel could kick both their asses blindfolded. "That performance, just then, was truly pathetic. Those kids look to be reaping age, meaning they should know how to shoot a fucking arrow. They are a damned embarrassment."

[word count: 611]

She closes the distance between them, adjusting the hair. He knew the look that had settled on her face, he knew the look in her eyes. It seemed that she was looking for a fight, each step closer preparing herself. The anticipation had lips curling, excitement buzzing across his skin as he widened his stance, loosening his shoulders. It had been a good few weeks since he had last been in a fight who wasn't his student.

"I asked if we were done here, that was your cue to leave. And unfortunately for you, this training center has a strict 'talk shit, get hit' policy."

Fist balled she goes for his face, but Victor Strauss was fast, After years and years of practice and training he had hones his ability to move as fast as a snake, his wrist catching the strike as he blocks it, her knuckles connecting with his wrist instead. There was strength behind the strike that might have impressed him if it had been more critical. But he still gave her credit for having the balls to attack him, even if the attack was below average.

"Oh and I'm not your love, by the way."

The remark has his lips pulling back into a smirk, and he feels his skin begin to buzz with anticipation. Quickly slips his leather coat off, tossing it over his shoulder. He rolls his shoulders as he prowls closer, circling around her as he looks for her weaknesses, noting the way she moved, the way she held herself.

"I guess that sucks for me then because I have barely started with the shit talk love." He comes to a stop, less than a foot away, his eyes locking with hers. "I'll show your soft ass how to throw a punch."

aldBFqYLPBunarmed

Fuck.

[word count: 300]

Fuck. The girl was paster than she looked, a miscalculated shot that has his fist slamming into nothing but fucking air. He clicks his tongue in frustration, quickly readjusting his stance to protect himself from any incoming attacks. Any regular man might have been seething with embarrassment, but not Victor Strauss, not the man with an ego that was so big that it was no wonder his shoulders were so broad. They had to be, to support his abnormally large head, theoretically.

With a giggle and a smirk, the girl looks at me with a new found confidence, one that would be the start of her demise. But he doesn't allow himself to be baited, giving her a grin, "it seems like that ass might be more distracting than I initially thought." A compliment that was dirty, laced with enough arrogance that he was sure it would through her off her game.

"... but I think you're supposed to hit people when you punch them. Kind of like this." He sees her move before her palms slam into his chest, and he feels his balance begin to slip. His ass hits the ground but only for a moment before he uses the momentum of the fall to roll into a backward summersault, landing on his feet with ease.

Shrugging off her insult his face falls into a more serious look, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, which he untacks for his pants to allow for easier movement. "Big talk, for such a little girl."

kb1RkRW_Adunarmed

dice pls

unarmed

dice PLS

unarmed

Feinting left, then right, he move with an ease, allowing the feeling of the moments to become familiar once again. Then instead of punching he sweeps out one of his legs, catching hers with enough speed to know her to the ground.

"Seems like the small fall just as hard."

[word count: 306]

"Congratulations, you managed to knock over someone half your size. Want a cookie?"

As they circled on another Victor was starting to enjoy the trash talk. He liked the barb to her words. Words that were meant to throw him off only had him excited, more engaged in the confrontation.

"A cookie? No wonder the careers coming from this facility are soft. Where the hell is your backbone? Positive reinforcement will only get you so far," he sighs, watching her feet carefully as they sized each other up. "You give a dog a cookie for doing something right, I read on the sign outside that this was a career institution, not puppy school."

Darting to his left she uses her body to knock Victor off his feet, his ass finding the hard surface of the ground. Groaning her rubs at his buttocks, his concentration lapsing for long enough that he misses the opening he left for her- she doesn't miss it though, seeing an opportunity and grabbing onto it with two hands.

A cheap move, a dirty one even, but one that has him hissing at the girl. Her foot crashes into his, an attempt to break bone alleviated as he manages to shift his foot just enough to save it from any bones from breaking.

"No matter how many times I knock you down, you keep getting back up. Good job for that, too bad getting back up and missing doesn't make you a good fighter, love."

Climbing to his feet once again he gives his foot a test, dancing on the balls of his feet. "That was a dirty move, didn't expect something like that from you.

And head ups, sweetheart, I like it when you call me love."

venlwd50OXunarmed

dice pls

unarmed

WHY DO YOU HATE ME

excuse me whilst I go cry in the corner brb

unarmed
[Black Eye -- 3 damage]

His fist connects with her face, and he feels gleeful, his lips splitting into a wide grin he welcomes the burning of his knuckles.

"Bulls-eye."

[word count: 318]

Victor Strauss was a fucking beast.

The look on her face is priceless, cupping her face she hisses in pain, the smirk on his face growing as the pain spread across her face.

He was a king in his own right, a fucking god.

Sure he was out of practice, his ass being kicked by some trainer who thought they were king tut.

"Now that's what you call a punch," he gloats, rubbing his fist as she drops her hand to show the beautiful start of a bruise blossoming.

"Really? Dirty move? Coming from the guy trying to distract me by talking about my ass? Normally I wouldn't use that move, but normally I'm fighting someone I have respect for. You? I haven't an ounce of respect, jackass. Or do you like it when I call you that too?"

He chuckles, flexing and clenching his fist, "to be honest, having your respect isn't exactly high on my list of this I want for Ratmas. And you can call me a jackass as much as you want, at least I know you'll be thinking of me tonight, in bed, once I kick your ass-"

a fist knocks the air from his lungs, cutting off his words- probably well deserved, not that he would ever let him know. There is the sound of bones cracking and he grunts, one hand cradling his side, the other braced on his knee as he fought to breathe through the searing pain.

"I think that sound means we're done here... do you need help getting to the medical center?"

Did she just dismiss him?

Victor Strauss?

The soon-to-be Mayor.

The nerve of her.

Snarling her lunges at her, striking once, twice, three times.

OEXUWQc|gMunarmed
Bruised Right Knee -- 2.5 damage

unarmed
Bruised Right Shin -- 2.0 damage

unarmed
Bruised Back -- 2.5 damage

[word count: 287]

"I tried to end things before you got hurt too badly. But it looks like at this rate the only bed you'll be seeing is a hospital bed, unfortunately, my bed has an occupancy of exactly one person."

Victor smirks, hand clutching his side where the bitch has broken a rib or two, "lucky my bed doesn't have that rule." He grunts, spitting on the ground beside him. "And I don't let your head get inflated too big, sweetheart, a fight ain't over till the other can no longer fight back." He straightens his hand dropping, ignoring the way his lungs burned with each breath and expansion of his compromised ribs.

The girl comes for him again, but he's ready to block the first two strikes with ease. The third slips past his guard, and he finds himself hitting the ground, hard. He coughs, clutching at his side he breathes through the discomfort. This was nothing compared to what his father had put him through, through the years of torture and torment, this was nothing but an irritating tickle.

"If I were you, I'd recommend staying on the ground. Maybe move to your knees and ask for forgiveness."

His eyes flashed to hers, his lips peeled back into a snarl, "ask for forgiveness?" He spits, pushing himself to his feet. "Who exactly am I asking? God?" He laughs now, hand against his side to support his ribs. "Love, I don't need to ask a fake god for forgiveness. God is nothing but a story people tell their children to give them hope that this world ain't as shitty go a place than it actually is."

He could tell that she was losing her focus, struggling to keep up. Her attacks were becoming less focused, more desperate. "This world is cruel, but I wouldn't have it any other way."

e1|EKleHsnunarmed
Tripped -- 0.5 damage

unarmed
Bruised Left Forearm -- 2 damage

unarmed

[word count: 307]