Downtown Hustle {OPEN}

[Delilah Pryce]

Delilah hadn't been back Pilot Ridge in years and to be honest, the place hadn't changed much. Many of the shops were new but the buildings were still the same, even the fairly run down bar she occupied right now. These sort of places were in every town across the nation, full of the same morons just looking to be hustled out of their cash. Whether it was cards, darts or even today's lesson, a game of billiards, Delilah could hustle it all. She didn't need her abilities to beat these locals, it was like taking candy from a baby. Setting them up with their own arrogance, letting them win a few games against a small little girl and then hitting them out of nowhere was the method and had worked for years. Of course, sometimes the hustled didn't take kindly and that was when Delilah's abilities came in handy.

Looking up as the last billiard ball fell into the side pocket of the table, Delilah stood up slowly, arching her back and sliding the cue stick between her fingers. She leaned over the table slightly and flashed a smile to the larger knuckle dragging ape there. It was always the guys she hustled, unless it was another woman whom looked like she might give up more than a fat wad of cash. Putting pigs like this down and seeing their face when a woman beat them was priceless. "Thanks for the time champ, now pay up and piss off," she said rather maliciously, looking away from her mark. The guy would do one of two things: he would either try to intimidate her and walk away without paying or he would toss the money down and scoot off with his tail tucked. This ape looked like the sort who would choose the first option.

The sound of the floor boards creaking made Delilah turn back to her mark, seeing he had indeed chose to go with the first option. "Don't," she said simply, giving the one and only warning he would receive. Delilah didn't like men too much and she especially didn't like it when they touched her or violated her personal space. "What you gonna do little girl?," the man asked, a smug look on his face and probably the last time he would ever smile like that for a while. Delilah's foot kicked the end of her cue stick out and away from her, giving her an extra step in this process. In another quick move, Delilah brought the cue stick around, catching her mark across the side of the face, shattering both the cue stick and the mark's cheek bone. The man fell sideways over the table grabbing his face and then rolling off into the floor. With a sigh, Delilah looked to those who had suddenly grew silent, ready for the next fool to step up. That challenge never came.

Tossing the broken cue stick down, Delilah moved over to the man on the floor, kicking him in the face as he tried vainly to stand. The man fell back onto his back and groaned loudly. Delilah reached into the man's pockets and turned them out, finding the money owed her for the games and then promptly spit on the ape as he groaned and whined. Slipping the cash quickly into her pocket, Delilah stepped over the man and moved across the bar and out the door. The dying light outside was still bright enough to make her squint hard and cause another migraine to begin. She still had a while before the migraine really took over. Vertigo and nausea usually followed the migraine, along with blurred vision and sometimes loss of bodily control. Taking a bottle of pills from her pocket, Delilah popped a few pills into her mouth and chewed them up, making a face as she did. Her eyes looked up and down the street, trying to focus on which way led back to her hotel.

[Mordecai Ottini]

As Mordecai finished his cigarette, he longed for Italy.

It wasn’t the first time he had wished to be back in his homeland, and it wouldn’t be the last, either. Italy was so much better then America in so many different ways. Americans remained under the impression that everyone wanted to be them, yet they traveled to different countries to get away, Italy included. Italians didn’t want to be Americans. They were content with being Italian and enjoyed simple things like football (soccer, as the Americans called it) and good food and wine. Italy seemed more lethargic then the bustling cities of New York and even smaller towns like pilot ridge. People in Italy were friendly, or they were in Verona anyway. Italy also seemed to have lax views on meta-humans. His mother told him that a meta-human from Rome recently was nominated for some award. What, exactly, he couldn’t remember. Italy was beautiful. Italy also seemed to be much cleaner. Then again, he was in an alley at the moment, so he couldn’t give an accurate view on the supposed cleanliness of Pilot Ridge at the time.

Humming in A-minor, the male tossed his cigarette butt down and extinguished it under his heel as he leaned against the brick wall he had been using for a back rest. He looked toward the mouth of the alley he had situated himself in and saw the sun setting in the west, as always. That was his cue that he should get back to the house soon if he wanted to keep himself out of trouble. True, he was allowed to stay out longer and was encouraged to, on occasion, but he found that he had a tendency to find trouble if he stayed out after the sun. Call it bad luck or call it irritation, but his nights out normally ended with someone going slightly insane and him consuming a box of cigarettes. Picking his instrument case up off the ground where he had set it, he carried the black rectangular box by the handle over his shoulder. He stepped onto the street and shoved his hand into the pocket of his pants.

The Italian meta surveyed his surroundings. To his right, there was nothing. To his left, there was also nothing. In front of him he saw the front view of a bar, where something wasn’t quite right, which was why he stayed focused on it. He could see a woman inside the window talking up to a man and, as he stared, saw her promptly beat the bigger and stronger male down. Mordecai felt the beginning of a smirk come to the edges of his mouth, pulling at the corners until he broke out into a grin. He leaned on the alley wall and sat down his music case as the woman walked out. He should’ve kept walking, especially since he had been talking about staying out of trouble earlier, but he couldn’t resist.

His smirk growing ever wider, he watched the woman take some pills before clapping a slow, loud clap.

“Bene fatto, mia signora! Well done, my lady!” He called out before moving to pick up his case. Looking left, then right, he crossed the street at a quick pace, black shoes clicking against the ground. “Though I think that, after that, you’ll need an escort, si?” In all likelihood, she could probably take care of herself if anyone came after her, but Mordecai had a fondness for strong women, much like strong wine. One would go as far to say that many Italians shared his views. “Mordecai Ottini, at your service, mia signora.” He inclined his head to her and snuck a look inside, where the man was being helped up by a few of his friends. It seemed like a bad situation. Whatever the case, it certainly didn’t look like a fair fight.

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[Delilah Pryce]

The headaches and fatigue Delilah experienced were both side effects of her meta-human abilities. So much information crammed inside her brain pushed the organ to its limits and kept it constantly working. Sure, the brain never took a holiday, but with so much information constantly being locked away and memorized, her brain was always working double time. Her body just couldn't keep up half the time, hence the reason for her drug and alcohol addiction. Keeping her body numb helped cope with the pain brought on by the migraines and muscle fatigue, but it could not keep the problems at bay forever. Right now was looking like one of those times when all she could do was just find a place to crash and wait the pain out. Lucky for Delilah she had a pretty high tolerance for pain.

Putting one hand to her forehead, trying to shield her sensitive eyes from the glaring light of the setting sun, Delilah took a deep breath and tried to focus. It wasn't like she forgot the name of the motel she was staying at or the direction it was in, it was just hard to focus on that particular memory at the moment. Thousands of other memories were pouring in, making the dull thud in her head become worse and worse with each beat of her heart. Closing her eyes tightly, Delilah shook her head from side to side very slowly, trying to keep herself from passing out. She stumbled to the side a bit but caught her balance quickly enough. Anyone passing by would probably just write her off as another drunk staggering home for the evening and right now that was fine, just as long as they left her alone. Unfortunately, that wish wasn't going to come true. It seemed some good Samaritan was duty bound to come to her aid, whether she wanted it or not.

Dropping her hand to her side, Delilah opened one eye and squinted trying to make out just who was approaching her. The accent and language she recognized as Italian. "Perfect," she muttered under her breath and started to move off in the direction she was pretty sure was the way back to her motel. However, her body had other ideas and Delilah felt a lurch in her stomach and staggered a bit once again. Luckily she was still able to maintain her balance and against her better wishes, just stood there, hoping she would at least pass out and not have to put up with this would be savior. "Your services aren't needed here pretty boy," Delilah spat out slowly, closing her eyes tightly again, trying to find some solace from the spinning world around her. Truth be known though, Delilah was in bad shape and did need some help, but she would die first than ask someone like Mordecai to help her out. It wasn't like he was rude or demanding compensation, it was just the fact he was a man and that meant danger in Delilah's book.

Inside the bar, things weren't getting any better. The big ape Delilah had left lying on the floor was now on his feet thanks to his friends. His jaw was a nice shade of red and no doubt would be turning purple soon enough. Fortunately, Delilah had succeeded in breaking the man's jaw so he was out of any fight, but unfortunately, his friends were not. Two of them broke from the small gathering crowd inside and made their way for the front door to look for Delilah. Outside, Delilah had staggered backward and fell into the brick front of the bar, sliding down the wall. The migraine was coming on fast and quick but hopefully the muscle relaxers Delilah just took would move quicker and ease the pain enough for her to get back to her motel room. By this time though, the two goons from inside were now outside, catching sight of Delilah's state of being. "Well well....The little bitch don't look so tough now," one of the men said, slowly making his way toward Delilah, giving Mordecai a cautious glance as he did so.