Violent Yankee Quest

Subtlety? Complexity?

Complex choices, tough planning, and even deep foresight?

Not here, and not today.

Welcome to Violent Yankee quest, a silly thing where I expect shonen brawling, drawn out fistfights, and the occasional cross-counter.

Because sometimes, you just want to hit something until it stops moving.

__________________________________________________________________________

You are a punk.

No getting around it.

Sure, you could say that kids made fun of your hair when you were little, that you're just misunderstood, that you're just more independent than your peers and more prone to questioning authority. That you're a good kid, just no one ever gave you a chance.

But it doesn't matter.

You like fighting.

You're not sure when you first discovered that the feeling of your fist meeting someone's face was absolutely fucking amazing, and you don't care. You're not one to get wrapped up in the past. You've just never stopped.

You're not so much of a hypocrite to call others out when they counter with their own blows either. In fact, that just makes it more exciting. The violent dance of passion you had when you first met some one that wasn't afraid, was willing to hit back just as hard as you were, even if they were holding back tears-

That you remember.

Such sweet struggle, how could you forget?

[ ] Even if the curls were stupid and her laugh really annoying, Luvia fought with everything. Including a suplex.
[ ] The knives were a surprise, you doubted that a 'Maid-In-Training' like Sakuya was supposed to have those.
[ ] That ferocity? That joy? How could you ever forget that look in Diona's eyes? You met a comrade that day.

Still, life goes on.

More than just much you like fighting, you found out about something else.

Beyond just fighting, there was the respect. To be frank, it was usually just outright fear. But like a certain asshole said, it's easier to be feared than loved. And man, were a lot of people afraid of you. You're hardly huge, but you've nailed looking scary anyway. A single glance of your eyes, and you can send a bunch of punks that'd dare think themselves reeling.

That's a fun feeling.

Not nearly as great as throwing down, but better than the rush you'd get if you fought a bunch of weaklings like that. If a person's so fare beneath you that they can't even offer a proper fight, then what's even the point?

Anyway, to put it in the briefest way possible.... You're a punk.

And today...

[ ] Is a work day. Time to go be a legbreaker.
[ ] There's a university thing. You suppose you'd better put some effort in.
[ ] Is fucking Orientation day. You could always skip, but it's always a good idea to make sure the fear of you is still there.

 

Reserved for Reasons

NAME: "Silver."
AGE: "Old enough."

APPEARANCE: "You're askin' me to describe myself? Sheesh. Well, I suppose I'm a pretty much a beanpole when it comes to body-type. Tall, not much meat. That sort of deal. Remarkable features boil down to two things. Eyes and hair. Blood red and iron-grey, respectively. I guess it's pretty long too, which is I get called Silver."

SKILLS: "I'm pretty well versed in the venerable skill of kicking ass and taking names."

ATTITUDE: "What kind of questionnaire is this? I'm an irreverent asshole that takes pleasure in violence. Draw your own fucking conclusion."

GOALS: "Good fights, good money, and... Yeah, just those."

 

You were younger then.

Inexperienced.

And you could make more excuses, but the simple fact remains that Luviagelita Edelfelt took all you could throw out and then some. And in the end, when you were both bruised and bloodied, and barely able to stand up, she was the one who got you with a suplex.

It was the first time you'd lost too.

You think a normal person would've been pissed. Embarassed at their weakness. Would've spouted something about cheating. You just laughed. You laughed so hard, your aching ribs practically felt like they were crushing your chest. You gave your all, and so did she. Luvia just happened to be a little bit better. All you could do was lay back with a smile, and think about how you could get stronger so that next time she'd be the one laid out.

You'd said as much to her, while she'd tried to fix up one of her hair drills.

She'd just sort of stared for a moment.

You don't think either of you really had a friend before that point. But having fought against one another, having thrown everything at each other, you somehow reached an understanding. You're not going to pretend that fists can carry words or intent or any of that stupid shit you see in comics. But there is something to having a completely honest match with someone. It's like playing a game. A dangerous one, where loosing can mean bruises and blood along with broken bones, but if you play with someone, wouldn't you say you got closer to them?

And then she bust a gut with that annoying 'Ho ho ho' of hers like the pair of you hadn't just spent the last ten minutes beating the tar out of one another.

"Defeat an Edelfelt? One such as yourself? What grand ambitions you must have!" And almost immediately, you'd shot back something that shut her up.

"I ain't interested in fighting an Edelfelt. I wanna beat you." And somehow, that line sent her sputtering red. You laughed even harder, and then she joined in again.

Still with that weird laugh of hers.

But eh.

You've done enough reminiscing, and it looks like your train's about to arrive.

The Neo-Tokyo Metropolitan University is one of the more hi-tech places to go to school. Which logically means that a punk like you gets all kind of weird stares as you first step off the train. You return a few, sending the little mice scurrying, but don't bother to give chase. You've actually got a class to get to.

And isn't that weird?

You never really thought of yourself as having a future that didn't involve large amounts of gratuitous violence. A yakuza leg-breaker, MMA fighter, or maybe even a pro-wrestler. But somebody shaping up to be halfway respectable? You'd have laughed a few years ago. But today, here and now, you're steadily working toward a degree on a scholarship.

Admittedly one the Edelfelts sponsor, something that you and Luvia nearly came to blows over.

But it turned that you actually were the only to legit qualify, by virtue of both having a decent enough brain and an arm strong enough to back it up. You're not sure that it's technically legal to host an underground fighting tournament/exam for a scholarship, but apparently the school rolled with it. The Edelfelt's think that a strong body houses a strong mind, and you more or less meet that criteria.

It still feels an awful lot like fucking charity, and it's only the fact that this has apparently been a thing for decades(?!) that gets you to accept it.

Still, you managed to swallow your pride and in a few years might even be someone respectable.

So, with what passes for a smile on your face, a look that terrifies several passerby, you head to class.

...

A half an hour later, you grit your teeth and forcefully keep yourself focused. You won't fucking lose to this. You refuse to let boredom put you to sleep at the first barricade!

...

Somehow, you manage to get through all of today's lectures without passing out from boredom. The material's so basic, it might as well be a review, and most of it's boring as hell. None of the teachers were very interesting either, like zombie going through the motions.

Your knuckles itch.

The sun's starting to set now. You could go for a little 'Stress Relief', but maybe some booze would help calm your nerves too. Alternatively, you could hit up Luvia for a brawl or somethin'.

[ ] Find some Trouble.
[ ] Acquire Booze. Drink Booze. Possibly acquire more.
[ ] Luvia has a ring in her house. You stopped questioning these things awhile back.
[ ] Maybe somethin' else? (write in)

 

[x] Even if the curls were stupid and her laugh really annoying, Luvia fought with everything. Including a suplex.
[x] There's a university thing. You suppose you'd better put some effort in.

 

[x] Even if the curls were stupid and her laugh really annoying, Luvia fought with everything. Including a suplex.
[x] There's a university thing. You suppose you'd better put some effort in.

[X] Find some Trouble.

 

I believe that the first vote has already closed as a consequence of the posting of the first story post based on said vote.

[X] Luvia has a ring in her house. You stopped questioning these things awhile back.

 

[X] Luvia has a ring in her house. You stopped questioning these things awhile back.

 

Water is wet.

The sun hurts to look at directly.

And the Edelfelt family is stupid rich.

These are just a few basic truths of the world that you don't even bother questioning.

A normal family might rent an apartment or buy a condo or somethin'. For an Edelfelt, that's not just lowbrow, it's not even dripping with personal style and elegance, and is so lacking in ostentatious frippery that they could practically curdle milk with hard they'd scowl at it.

No.

The Edelfelts have family mansions. More specifically, they have about dozen scattered around the world, most at least a hundred years old. The estate Luvia lives in, was apparently first constructed shortly after the arrival of a certain american admiral, accompanied by several large ships. Since then, it's apparently been expanded a few times, was quietly abandoned in the thirties, claimed by a crazy guy in 1942, violently reclaimed in 1946, renovated some more, and morphed into the most stereotypical western looking mansion ever to exist in Tokyo. It looks more like a movie set or a theme park in some ways, rather than a place where people would actually live.

Brick walls, wrought iron gates, wide green lawns. Marble floors, grand staircases, and gigantic chandeliers.

The works.

But, more important than any of that, is that they have a wrestling ring.

Sure, there's also a big gym, all sorts of weights, and basically any other fitness related apparatus you could think of. But nothing, nothing compares to bein' able to throw down. And this is a pretty good spot to have a fight with Luvia. There's showers, people willing to apply first aid without askin' uncomfortable questions or demanding all your money, and even occasionally food.

A few of the maids give you polite nods as you pass through the halls. Mostly older ones who've worked here awhile. Ones who don't know you very well tend avoid you, and ones who haven't seen you at all... Heh. They either tend to turn tail and run, or try to take you out. Sometimes the easy way with words, and sometimes the hard way with a blackjack.

Honestly, you prefer the hard way.

It means they had the guts to try and take you down. Not that it ever works, but you generally get a minute or two of entertainment out of it, which is better than the seething annoyance that makes you grind your teeth when they try and talk down to you.

You're a punk.

That doesn't mean you're dumb.

A fresh face stares at you with wide eyes as stride by, body quivering in paralyzed fear while her head pivots to keep you always in sight. That's a reaction you haven't seen in a while. You throw her a grin over your shoulders, making sure to show plenty of teeth, before you pass around the next corner. Before you've taken two steps past it, there's this absolutely adorable little squeaking sound, followed by a thump. You don't bother turning around to check on her.

Someone green as that has to have someone looking after her, and they'll find her collapsed into a puddle soon enough.

The rest of your trip to the gym is pretty boring.

You return a few nods from the staff, and that's about it.

When you arrive at your destination, Luvia's in her usual place. Being about as subtle as a brick to the head, your own entrance has her head whipping around and the usual smirk in place. A bit more plastic than usual though.

"Bad first day?" The first blow, with word and fist.

"If you tell me that you did not struggle to stay awake during those egregious 'lessons' they laid out across the entire campus, I will call you a liar, Silver." And instantly parried on both accounts.

You start off light, the fight slow enough that you can chat and not worry that there won't be enough breath left over for words. But it picks up. You mix up you usual jabs with a few heavier ones, and Luvia's elbows remind you that they are still really hard. The pace accelerates, and words disappear.

At this stage, it's less about conscious technique then it is about refined instincts. Reflexes that you've carved into your bodies, stimuli triggering trained responses, while your eyes burn, struggling to keep up with the flow of battle. Low grunts mix with the meaty sounds of flesh hitting flesh, while you force your body to keep going.

And then it hits you.

Luvia... is holding back.

Not that she's weaker than she was in the past. Judging by the soreness that's already very deep in your knuckles, this is about the 'usual' for your bouts. But somehow, she's not as winded as she should be. Not as sweaty or as tired looking.

[ ] Drag it out.
[ ] ALL OUT ATTACK.
[ ] Disengage. Call her on it.
[ ] Disengage. Make up an excuse.

 

[X] ALL OUT ATTACK.

 

[X] ALL OUT ATTACK.

 

[X] ... We're friends Luvia, right? This... fuck you're bad at the touchy-feely shit. The point is, is she... you don't fucking know, OK or something?

 

[X] Huh. So, I guess this makes you a magical girl or some shit?

 

[X] Huh. So, I guess this makes you a magical girl or some shit?

 

Bandwagon.

[X] Huh. So, I guess this makes you a magical girl or some shit?

 

[X] Huh. So, I guess this makes you a magical girl or some shit?