Drunk with a stranger (Jolt)

[Nikkolas Blagetovich]

The Bear's Head was really the only other place besides the Institute that Nikkolas hung out. It wasn't exactly the nicest place, but it was more off of the radar and somewhere that he'd fit in better. A young, mentally-unstable, Russian mutant didn't really have a whole lot of places to go in America. The bar was a place that he could get away from the loneliness of the Institute. (Besides Jake's and Josh's mental lessons with him.) Yes the Institute was a source of stability and help, but he need something other then that every once and awhile.

There Nikkolas sat, on a bar stool in th Bear's Head. He was taking a light sip of some Svedka vodka he had in his glass. He sat the glass down, looking at the remaining contents before quickly taking a large gulp and emptying the glass. "I vould like another." His thick accent showed. The bar tender walked over to Nikkolas' side of the bar, eying him suspiciously. "Son, are you even old enough to be drink..." before he could finish, Nikkolas, rather Rasputin right as of the moment, had taken over the man's mind. Without a word, the bar tender walked back and poured Rasputin another glass of vodka. "Now go away..." the bar tender snapped back to his senses, not really remembering what he had just done, and went about his business.

Rasputin took a quick look around the bar, seeing if there was anyone worth talking to. No one caught his eye, so he turned his attention back to his vodka.

[Jolt]

"You're in my fuckin' seat, tiny."

Will growls, snarling over his shoulder and glowering at a bull of a man that is twice his height. "Fuck off!" The two of them exchange smouldering looks until the bartender intervenes with a nod towards the door. "You boys wanna fight?--then get the hell out or play nice." The man clenches his fists, but the redhead on the barstool remains, contorting his features into a bitter scowl. For a few moments longer they linger before the larger man walks off, muttering.

If the challenge had been issued any other day than today, then Will perhaps would have stepped up to bat, offering the sharp end of his knuckles across the man's stupid face as compensation. Instead, he returns his attention to his drink at the far end of the bar, taking a long swig of his beer.

His shoulders curled inward in a protective gesture, Will does not let his gaze stray, staring off into a distinct corner and keeping only to himself. The poor lighting at least offers the glimpse of his distinguished flaming hair and an impressively large burn mark on his right forearm. What appears to be the crusted remains of a blow to his head darkens his waxen features, but no one around him seems to pay any mind. The boy looks as though he might have deserved the injuries anyway.. where ever he got them..

[Nikkolas Blagetovich]

The bar was usually quite except for the occasional fight, but nothing too major. When ever something exciting did happen though, Rasputin picked up on it quickly. American's were so hostile...even when they weren't drunk! In Russia, people were only hostile when drunk which was most of the time, other wise they were simple people. But today was one of them days, excitement electrified the air.

"You're in my fuckin' seat, tiny."

Rasputin heard the man's violent command, and he moved around to look. An obscenely large man seemed to be picking on a younger, smaller kid. Though the man was much larger, the kid was very built, and he looked mean. This would be interesting indeed.

"Fuck off!"

The kid barked at the man, holding his own without doing a whole lot. Rasputin thought about messing around with their mind, provoking a fight, but he didn't. He would let them go about it themselves. But to Rasputin's disappointment, the bar tender broke it up before it could carry on anymore. Both seemed to back off, and things were normal again, and Rasputin finished his vodka.

Rasputin used his mind trick again to get more vodka in his glass for free. He looked over to the kid, He looks like he could use a drink. He looked to the bar tender, "Give him a drink on me." The zombie-like bar tender obeyed, and made his way down to the kid. "You've got a free drink comin' from the kid down the bar, whatcha want?" Rasputin tried to keep the bar tender's mind set as normal as possible as he did this.

[Jolt]

You've got a free drink comin' from the kid down the bar, whatcha want?

Will's gaze hardens as he avoids the bartender's eyes, wiping his upper lip almost uneasily with the back of his hand, but keeping his cool. For a split second a thought trails across his mind that fucking Pyro had found him here and wanted to finish what he'd started.. or what the both of them had started but never had a proper chance of finishing. Luckily, there's no blonde in sight, only a dark-haired guy down at the other end of the bar. He curls his lip in a sneer, simply knowing that there was something more to this than a free drink--although the idea of a free drink did sound quite tempting.

"I don't need his fuckin' charity," Will growls, jerking his chin up defiantly. The guy has to want something. Nothing comes free in New York, a fact he'd learned a long, long time ago..

[Nikkolas Blagetovich]

((OOC: I hope you don't mind me doing a quick mind read on you, if so just let me know and I'll change it.))

Rasputin watched in anticipation, wondering how the boy would respond to his gesture of...kindness. Some people would take it as a kind act and thank the buyer, while some, who were more complicated like this kid, would take it as an insult.

Rasputin sized the boy up as he took a sip of his vodka. No doubt, he was from an Irish line. His hair and completion gave it away, though there was an absence of freckles. He was very built, and his 'guns' were big. The boy seemed a little on the short side though.

"I don't need his fuckin' charity,"

The boy flat out rejected the drink. He viewed it as an act of charity, which in a way it was. The boy looked like he could use a drink, and in Russia it was only hospitable if you had the capability to do so. Rasputin was intrigued by this boy now, he seemed different. Without even reading his mind he could tell that the boy was different; his aura felt different from anyone else in the bar. He stared at the boy for a moment, taking just a quick gander in his mind, he was a mutant <You're a little fire cracker huh? Never said you needed my charity, just a drink.> Rasputin's Russian accent was thick. He would see how the boy responded. He communicated with him through telepathy to let the boy know he was a mutant too. Though he didn't think the boy would take too kindly to this.

[Jolt]

(No problem. Will's fairly simple-minded.)

<You're a little fire cracker huh? Never said you need my charity, just a drink.>

Immediately Rasputin's assumptions are proved correct. Will nearly chokes in surprise on a mouthful of cheap beer that suddenly takes a sidestep down his trachea. Growling and sharpening his gaze, he jerks his attention to the opposite end of the bar, in his eyes observing his opponent more carefully. Having spent a significant time in the Brotherhood in the company of other mutants, he isn't shocked too sharply at this recognition of telepathy.

Coward.

The redhead sneers openly, doing nothing to hide his distaste for the situation. His body is still itching for a fight, wasted energy is pent-up inside him with nowhere to go but up or out. Sliding casually from his perch on the barstool, Will starts across the bar, his chin set defiantly in Rasputin's direction.

"You got something to say to me, then fuckin' say it to my face," Will growls as he is within earshot of the man, finding telepathy as something little more than a dumb-ass 'mind trick', something that was more annoying than intimidating, even though it scared the hell out of him when a telepath tried to do more than talk to him, tried to mess with his mind and look into his head. Deep down even he knows his brute strength would be little more than a show against Rasputin's abilities. Perhaps even that is a joke in all comparison.. as he appears to stand little more than five feet tall.

[Nikkolas Blagetovich]

Rasputin is amused by Jolt's little display of anger. Telepathy could touch the deepest nerves in people. Some people feared it because they couldn't sense it or stop it, while others only worried about their minds being read like a book and their utmost secret feelings being exposed. Will took violently to Rasputin's telepathic advance on him.
Americans are so violent...always 'hit and ask questions later.' Lets see what this kid is made of.

"You got something to say to me, then fuckin' say it to my face,"

Rasputin chuckles lightly to himself. Sure, he had been taking English lessons, but he was only comparable to a 3rd grader in speaking it. But, if Mr. Firecracker wanted him to verbally speak, then so be it. With a grin, boarder line sneer, Rasputin stood putting his hands flat on the bar, making direct eye contact with Jolt. "If you vant fight, zhen ve can takes it out of bar." [If you want fight, then we can takes it out of bar.] He then extended his right hand to be facing the door and walked towards it. It had been so long sense he got into a fight, especially a fist fight, that he decided that he wouldn't use his powers.

As he walked out the door, he ended up in the back alley of the bar. He stood there awaiting for his 'opponent' to walk through the door. This ought to be interesting.

[Jolt]

If you vant fight, zhen ve can takes it out of bar.

Will takes few moments to understand what fuck the guy's saying while lines form in between his eyebrows--his forehead tightened in annoyance, unused to much else but the rough undertones of New York. He clenches his fists tightly until his blunt fingernails start to dig into his already grimy palms, leaning heavily against the granite bar and fighting strongly against his weariness from the longest day as Nikkolas disappears from view and into the alleyway.

Had Will been more logical, he would have easily avoided the entire thing by walking out the front and into the night where the freak wouldn't find him, or at least not very easily. And yet.. the idea of a real fight stirs a primal urge within him to take control, despite the obvious fact that Nikkolas is nearly a foot taller than he is and perhaps heavier. Fuck the odds.

Scowling at the wary eye of the bartender, Will sets his jaw and follows after the German European foreigner, an almost cocky bounce edging into his step. "You wanna fuckin' fight?" he growls at last, growing more and more agitated by the second, reminded of his deprivation of a fight from Pyro, emerging into the dim alleyway and feeling his skin tighten against the cool night air. He jerks his chin up again, a seemingly common gesture for him. All of this feels familiar--like a living room showdown between him and Dave, shouting and thrashing until one of them just fucking snapped and took a swing. "Then fuckin' do it!" Without a warning or another word he tenses his fist and takes a mighty swing at Nikkolas.

And goddamn it feels good.

[Nikkolas Blagetovich]

To a native, the temperature outside might be considered a little on the 'chilly' side, but to Nikkolas, who is a native Russian, it is perfectly normal, if not warm. Night time always had a grim reputation, bad things seemed to be more memorable when they happened at night time. When in all actuality, the majority of bad things happened in the day. The alleyway was transformed by the night's veil.

"Then fuckin' do it!"

Nikk smiled twistedly as he watched Will come through the door, and without any notice but a quick phrase he took a swing at Nikk. It was swift, and fully supported by him, as if he's done this before. The punch connected with Nikk's left cheek, knocking him back to one of the brick alley walls which he quickly rebounded off of in an attempt to tackle Will to the ground where he'd have more of an advantage. That fucking hurt, he has some fight to him. He would definitely feel the effect from that blow in the morning, but now his adrenaline was running and his face felt numb.

Nikk wasn't a physical fighter, and if he sustained many more blows like that then he'd be finished with. It wasn't often that he got into a fist fight. Plus, Will was much more built the he was, and probably knew how to fight a whole Hell of a lot better then he did.

[Jolt]

The world gives a tumble and turns upside-down as Nikkolas plows into him, and Will goes sprawling, unable to use the small amount of time to his advantage. Concrete connects with his back as the two succumb to gravity and fall down to the ground, the boy growling something incomprehensible and thrashing his body. He jerks his knee up, searching for the Russian's solar plexis, or his groin, or whatever the hell he can get to as his muscles flex and clench in defiance, reminding him of previous wounds already earned for being a bold hard-ass.

"Fuck you!" he growls, his spine scraping across the ground as he jerks his body, exploiting weak points for his lack of size and leverage. It's an old strategy that he's never strayed from using, hit first and ask questions fuckin' later or not at all and don't stop hitting until the motherfucker stops moving. It will be the death of him sooner or later, but at this point he doesn't give a shit. The rough and tumble is something he can brush off, but losing is something that burrows deeper, and he'd be damned if he was going to get shown up by this guy.

[Nikkolas Blagetovich]

Nikk's attack was successful, he'd gotten Will to the ground and in what seemed to be a vulnerable position. Things in a fight could always turn around, and Nikk knew this. Though it seemed that Nikk was on the top of things (no pun intended), Will was putting up a tremendous struggle, using his body in an attempt to get free.

Now that he had him on the ground, what was he supposed to do, hold his hands down and rape him? As tempting as that may sound, it just wouldn't work. For one, Will's arms were a lot bigger and stronger then Nikk's; holding his arms down wasn't an option. Choking him wasn't what Nikk wanted to do either, he didn't want to kill the kid. His adrenaline was pumping, and he could sit on this kid all night, "Nîñåëåíèå!" (~Stop/Settle~) He temporarily reverted back to Russian as he did when he got spooked.

He attempted to back off of Will, so that they'd both be standing again. This was probably a very stupid idea, and would give Will the advantage, but Nikk didn't think about it.

[Jolt]

"Get the fuck off me!" Will barks, writhing beneath Nikk's weight, feeling sparks heat up at his fingertips, making his hands burn with energy, running circles in his nerves but not escaping. His frustration slowly builds, growling and snarling as his efforts go without any result. His face fills slowly with color, a slight pink that flares into his expression and down his neck from the effort and strain of both yelling and trying to fight someone sitting on top of him.

He feels so fuckin' small, like he always does. Under average and belittled. Goddamn bastard!

Alert, awake, and raring, he seizes his open chance as the weight lessens and decreases completely, surging to his feet like a cat and bringing back his arm to land another strike on Nikk's jaw, a target he'd hit nearly hit once, but a target that also taunted him. "Goddamn you!" He wishes it could be Robbie that he was hitting, he wishes he'd had the nerve to punch that motherfucker in the face years ago.. but he'd lost that chance.. and then another.. and he there isn't a snowball's chance in hell that he's losing this one too.

[Nikkolas Blagetovich]

"Get the fuck off me!"

Nikk could feel energy just pulsing off of Will, his whole aura was energized as if it wasn't before. He body felt warmer then it already was, and little hairs started to spring up on Nikk. A little seed of fear was planted in Nikk; he didn't know what Will's power was or if he'd use it.

Upon trying to move off of Will, he'd lost his balance do to Will's quick response to Nikk's mistake. That was the chance Will needed that Nikk didn't take into account. The fight had turned back on Nikk.

Will dealt a devastating blow to Nikk's jaw. Not only was it the physical force behind it, there was something else. Nikk went flying back, and onto the ground. His jaw was burning from the force of the blow, and the electrifying impact as well. There was more to that punch then muscle. Nikk's head filled in pain. He was now totally out of it, and was at the mercy of Will...which probably wasn't much.

[Jolt]

Panting, Will glares down at Nikkolas as he goes down, his eyes glazing with anger and simmering with disappointment as the fight seems to take a backseat. Sparks of electricity flicker around his clenched knuckle, illuminating the bones of his hardy knuckles beneath his sallow complexion. He half-circles Nikk, almost taunting him like a crazed vulture that would rather torture its prey instead of waiting for it to die. "Get up!" he barks, in a fit of fury almost expecting the other guy to listen to him, to bounce back up to his feet and offer him the fight he'd been wanting for so long.

It barely dons on him that he's got the upper hand, something that has always been rare, because all the other fuckin' bastards he'd taken a swing at would gang up with their buddies. Right now Will can care less about winning, he just wants to fight, to beat the shit out of this fucker until he doesn't get up, despite the fact that he doesn't appear to be getting to his feet anyway.

"Get the fuck up!" Will barks again, his face blood-red as a vein throbs at his temple--awake and alert and slightly spurred from his beer--taking a sharp stab at Nikk's exposed side with the toe of his boot before reaching down and moving to grip the front of his shirt, probably strong enough to yank him up but not tall enough to pull him up off the ground like the bad-ass motherfuckers did in the movies.

[Nikkolas Blagetovich]

Nikk was dazed and confused as he was sprawled out across the ground by Will's punch. As he laid there, he saw, what seemed to be, a large figure moving around him. He wasn't sure what it was, or why it was circling him. He wasn't sure if it was the thing that laid him out on the ground, but he wasn't liking it.

"Get up!"

He heard the creature bark an order at him to get up. He attempted to get up, only to fall back to the ground. The more time he spent there, the more the creature started to gain human characteristics. It began to turn into a person, it was Will. The kid from the bar who he got into a fight with. He began to muster up some strength and got up to his knees.

"Get the fuck up!"

Will took a quick shot at Nikk's exposed side with his toe. It hurt, but it was nothing like the punch to the face. He sneered, laughing slightly at Will as he pulled him up by his shirt. He used his legs to move back wards to make up for the size difference. As he stood there, clearly out of it, his eyes rolled backed from side to side and back again. Nikk gasped, ginning now, "Finish me then." He fell towards Will. If Will stayed where he was, he'd take on the full weight of Nikk, or if he'd move, Nikk would fall flat to the ground again.