Streea's leather boots made a silent thump as they hit the pavement. He was moving his head around, looking at the enviroment, his silver hair swishing at the tops of his shoulders. Streea wasn't quite used to being in crowded areas, but hey, first time for everything. He wa getting odd looks, the guns at his hips and the sword on his back was bound to gather attention. Oh well, if they get in the way, it's their own damned fault. His hands, in their black leather gloves, were tapping against his dwarven leather pants, to the beat of some ska song he had stuck in his head.
Streea snapped his head to the side, his long elven ears listening carefully. Had he heard his opponent? No, probably not. He laughed, his green eyes shining in his happiness. It was so long since he had a fight, maybe this would be a good one. Well, he was certainly gaining more stares. Laughing weirdo dressed in black leather muscle shirt with shoulder armor, and silver hair and long ears in the middle of the street. Not to mention the weapons. Why weren't people running yet?
Streea hopped up top of a yellow car, presumedly what these humans call a taxi. He brought his leathered hands up to his mouth, and called out, "Iota! You here? Come oooon, the people need to see I'm not the only weirdo here!" With a push, which caused a fair dent in the taxi, Streea lept off the metal contraption and on to the the hood of another, causing yet another dent, and shattering the windshield. People were starting to back away now. Perfect time for Streea to bring out his two guns, Isto and Tangi, one black, and one white. People were really running now. "The fun begins now! If I have to hunt you down, I'll find whatever hole you hide in!"

The orkan carefully waded through the sea of people, which was difficult, considering that he was going against the flow of human traffic. He kept his head low, so that Streea wouldn't find him, though, considering his large spiked blue hair, animosity was a near impossibility.

What on earth does that lunatic want with me now? he thought, as he carefully waded into a coffee shop. He ordered a mocha without taking his eyes off of Streea, who hadn't noticed him yet.

He peered through the smudged pane of glass wondering what Streea had running through his head, some kind of scheme, wanting him as a virgin sacrifice, which would be altogether very sad an end for our hero. Nevertheless, he sat down in a comfy old leather armchair and dialed in to his iPod. Something metal... he thought, as he went to such a playlist. He peered out the window once more, but he couldn't find Streea. Oh godammit, why did I have to take my eyes off of him?

Well, I mean, I think he won't find me in here. I should be fine, right?

...right?

"I'll have what he's havin'" Streea said, as he sat down on the couch right beside Iota, placing his arms up on the back, both guns still in his hands. "Need some caffiene and chocolate before we start this, don't we?" Streea said with a big, toothy grin. "O'course, he's paying for all this. Oh and the window" Streea flicked his gun lightly to where he had entered, through the window. Iota's metal must've been too loud for him to notice the loud crashing noise Streea made as he had dove through the window.
"So, mate, how've you been?" Streea said, as he put Tangi, the white gun, back in its holder and grabbed the hot mocha from the shaking waitress and sipped it down. "I mean, we're allowed to be cival, aren't we? Though don't quite agree with that metal ya got blastin', dunno how you listen to that crap." Streea blew on his mocha, before licking the whipped cream off the top. "Damned good mochas here."

Iota froze for a second to take all that in, with an utter look of confusion. He tilted his head to the side to see the window smashed in, and then it registered that he had just insulted Iron Maiden.

He. Had Insulted. IRON MAIDEN. Motherf-

Iota took the studio headphones off from his head, and rested them on his neck. He paused for a second, and shook his head. No dammit, I won't fight over that. That's something Nick would do... Though come the fuck on, who can NOT LIKE "Hallowed Be Thy Name?" God damn...

"Uh... hi Streea. Mind telling me why you're pulling a Nemesis on me?" he said as he rubbed his brow, and took a long sip from his mocha.

"Why not?" Streea grinned his devil grin, and finally just downed his mocha. The burning down his throat actually felt rather good, after eons of cold stuff. Fucking Crex can't cook a god damned thing. "I wanted some fun, heard you were in town, and decided to stop by, spikey" he said, then proceeded to ruffle Iota's big blue hair. "Come on, sonic, you know you want some fun too." Streea threw his cup across the room, landing it on the counter and making it roll off. "I'll have another mocha please, they're damned good." Streea rested his head on the back of the couch, and closed his eyes, waving his head to the tune of Everything Went Numb.

Sonic? Did just fucking...

SONIC?!

Iota calmed himself down and inched away from Streea. "Stop mooching dammit, I'm a college student, I'm nearly dirt poor."

That wasn't a lie. The only reason he and Edge had a multitude of gaming systems was because Edge had a job at the local Target, and frequently embezzled various things. And popcorn.

"So, you crashed through a store window, and came in here to ask me to fight because you're bored?" said Iota, an eyebrow raised.

"I can't find a better reason. And hell, I don't even understand your money system, so I'm worse off than you." Streea grabbed the mocha from the waitress and blew on it to cool it. "So what do you say? I mean, come on, you have to be bored listening to that shit anyway. So lets have some fun!" Streea lightly shoved Iota, but hopefully not light enough that it would spill Iota's mocha down his shirt. Screwing with people was fun.

Iota grew somewhat agitated with Streea. "Man, come on. Shove off, already." he said, nudging Streea back.

"Bitch, it's on now!" Streea yelled out, before grabbing Iota's face and shoving it forward, toward the conviently placed concrete support pillar in the middle of the café. He then dug out a coin, one yen, and flicked it to the waitress. "Keep the change."

Iota quickly attempted to balance himself, his foot clipping a car, sending it rolling.He barely managed to land on his feet, yelling, "You crazy motherfucker!" He reached his hand out, and his Crusword materialized in a flash of light.

"Streea you asshole, we're going to get arrested! There's no streetfighting allowed in the United Provinces."

Of course, I don't really expect that'll stop him. Iota sighed, and kept his eye on Streea, waiting for his attack.

"That only means more fun my friend!" Streea laughed as he chased after Iota, Mocha spilled all over the ground, guns in outstretched hands, shooting at Iota's feet in rapid motions. He reached a car and lept on top, crushing the roof down into the cab. Streea didn't quite care about casulties at this time, the more blood, the better the fun! His teeth shined from behind his thin grin as he aimed to take out Iota's ankles.

Iota quickly ran to the side. He jumped, and kicked off of the wall, propelling him across the street. He stopped himself parallel to Streea, and planted his shoe firmly through the hood of the car that Streea was surfing on, with intent to throw him off balance.

Damned cheap metal death traps. Streea fell towards the new indentation, and past Iota, making a mad grab for his shirt with the last three fingers of his right hand, the index and thumb still holding on to his gun. If Streea was going to crack his head on the pavement, Iota was damn well going down with him.
Streea could hear the sirens from a good distance off. Hightened hearing is quite useful. "Well my friend, I suggest we start moving, else our fun be cut short!" he said gleefully, as he tried jumping off the roof of the car, and shoving Iota down to the street in one lucid movement.

Iota was driven flat on his back on the hard, hot asphalt. He coughed out some choice four letter words, and slammed the ground with both fists, propelling him upwards. He grabbed his Crusword, and began to give chase. His superior agility showed as he quickly caught up with Streea. He inched ahead of him, and yelled "Red Light!" as he viciously swung his elbow into Streea's face in an attempt to stop him.

The blow connected, Streea's nose went at an odd angle and a few speckles of blood flew out. But Streea wasn't going to be stopped so easily. He was known for his agility and acrobatics for a reason. The pale skinned Drow went backwards, extending his arms to the ground, and caught himself on his hands. His legs in the air, Iota seemed in the perfect position, Streea attempted to swing his legs and kick Iota squarly in the stomache, hopefully knocking this putrid air out of him. His other leg aimed high, doing a straight forward kick towards Iota's face. His arms were braced, ready to push off and put Streea on his legs the moment the time arose.

Iota saw the leg heading for his face, and he barely avoided it by flattening himself in the air. Unfortunately, the lower leg that Streea threw connected with the bottom of his jaw, as a result.

"Oof" he managed to get out as he was sent straight to the ground. He quickly picked himself back up, and dusted his shirt off.

Ideas, ideas... anything... he thought. He looked down, and kicked a fire hydrant, causing it to lift in the air and spin violently, as water sprayed everywhere. He then kicked the fire hydrant like a soccer ball, right at Streea's face.

With an omf, Streea shoved off the ground, his natural strength letting him get a few feet in the air, effectively dodging the random fire hydrant which seemingly came from nowhere. Streea forced his weight forward, spinning in the air and landing on the pavement with a dull thud.
"Swords eh? I'm going to go ye zhuanth pholor dosst t'zarreth" Streea said, letting slip his natural tongue. He holstered his two guns, and drew the blood stained sword, Edonil Velve, the Twilight Blade. For eons the sword had thrived and slain countless bodies, and today new blood would add on to the stains covering the three foot blade.
Streea lunged forward, slashing horizontally at Iota's chest. Hopefully the man's reflexes were enough to save him from a simple enough slash.

"Nu-uh." Iota remarked as he quickly blocked the slash, in an upward motion. Sure of his footing, he preformed a quickstep, bringing himself behind Streea. He swiftly brought the handle of his blade to the back of Streea's head.

I don't really have anything against the guy, per-se. I'll just treat him how I usually treat Edge, and smack him around before he leaves me alone.

The sword was deflected with a loud, ringing clang, and Edonil rebounded. Iota was behind Streea already, what quick reactions, good good. A crack, the hilt had connected with the back of his head. Streea winced, but persisted anway. He twirled the blade in his hands, so that it pointed downwards now, and thrust it down into the ground. Leaping lightly while still gripping the hilt, Streea spun around the hilt, attempted to send his booted foot directly into the cheek of his foe.

Everything froze in Iota's mind for a moment.

Did I just see...

He swiftly quickstepped beyond Streea again, and stared at a building, and fell to his knees with a look of joy.

A bar!

Appropriately, he hurried inside the building. Streea be damned, my liver be damned...

I. Will. Get. Smashed.

"Hey, you cock! Don't ignore me!" Streea yelled after Iota, wrenching his sword out of the ground and giving chase. "You don't just ignore someone in the mi-" Streea's angry yellings were cut short as the boor dar slammed in his face when Iota closed it. Streea rubbed his nose as he cursed, before kicking the door down, nearly breaking it in the process. "Damnit Iota, this is no time for a drink!"

"Comrade, any time is a time for a drink," remarked Iota automatically. He was too drawn to the marvel of the liquor-filled shelves behind the bar. His mind thirsty for inebriation, he quickly took a seat at an open barstool.

"Barkeep! Jameson, and leave the bottle!" he said, in an obvious rush to get smashed. The bartender meandered to the far side of the wall, grabbing a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey, setting it down with a thud, alongside a glass near Iota. He dropped two or three ice cubes in, and commented, "Enjoy."

With the thirst of a man in a desert, Iota forsook the glass at first, drinking large swigs from the bottle itself. "A primer," he noted to the, appropriately confused Streea. He quickly filled the glass, nearly overfilling it, the surface tension of the brown liquor somehow holding the bubble of whiskey above the glass, with ice cubes poking out of the top.

Iota took a long, loving sip of the liquid, as his eyes seemed to dull slightly. Draining about half of the glass in a swig, a look of immense satisfaction spread on his normally stone-cold apathetic face. This, too, confused Streea to hell and back. Such a look seemed alien on Iota's face.

Iota turned around, and leaned on the bar, eyes closed. "Y'see, Streea, It's akin to liquid gold, this magical liquid. How can you see it so near and NOT drink?" wondered Iota, clearly still mulling over Streea's odd comment upon entering the bar.

"What'll you take, comrade?" asked Iota, turning and pointing towards the vast wall of alcohol. Whiskey, Rye, Rum, Tequila, Vodka, Scotch, Cognac, and too many kinds of beer to count all glimmered in the dim blue-violet light of the bar.

"I don't drink, want my liver later in life" Streea said. "Now, I came here to kill some fuckers, not to drink you cock!" he yelled out, kicking a table at where Iota sat. "You'll have plenty of time to drink when you're dead!" Streea rushed forward after the table he had kicked, sword pointed forward in an attempt to skewer Iota to the bar, permanently.

Glass raised high, Iota didn't even notice the table striking his head, as he kicked the broadside of Streea's sword, his momentum causing him to run into the bar.

"Hold on, hold on, one more bottle," said Iota lazily, as he reached over the bar for another full bottle of alcohol, and began to pour it.

Streea was in the swing too, as his sword lodged in to the bar, and people ran screaming from the sight of him, Streea propelled himself in to a spinning kick aimed straight at Iota's plastered face.

Iota stood, knocking a random patron aside. He held up a massive, glowing arm, grabbing the leg and shoving it back with near titanic force. "De-nied" he remarked, stepping back. It took him a moment to notice that, in a flash, almost everything about himself was different. A cursory glance in the mirrored wall confirmed this. His hair was much shorter, but still retained the familiar hue and shape, minus the large single bang. His coat was gone, replaced by a rather long vest with a large collar, reaching up to his ears. He noticed stubble on his face, and as he brought his arm up, he noticed that not only had he been massively toned in the last few seconds, his arms were now clad in massive power-gauntlets, large glowing hands shooting out of the front, mimicking his own.

He shook his head for a moment. What was he on? He'd always been like this. He pointed to Streea, who now stood across the bar. "You gonna give me a real fight, or what? I'm getting old here, Mercer."

Streea landed on his hands gracefully, swinging himself down to upright himself. He blinked for a moment, One nanosecond, Iota had long hedgehog hair and was a bit of a dweeb. Now his hair was short and he was toned. No he had always been like that. Just like his hands had always been elongated into claws. He growled and dashed towards Iota low, going beneath his massive gauntlets to disembowel the metal lovering mental. This was much more convenient than a sword. But he never had a sword in the first place, so what would he know.

lol hello

Closing this will not stop me from posting in it.

Ha haaaa