Invite: Open.
Character Sheet: Sig or link it.

Setting: The Underground. A dirty, money driven black market for fighting. Basically, it's a city that has been placed underground, ran by greedy investors.
Time: Present.
Fandom: Not allowed.

House Rules: Semi-literate role play. Please keep everything to the storyline as much as possible. Try not to add any fantasy-like themes. One character per person.

Description: Selling. Bidding. Trading. Fighting. And the works of it all--it's run illegally, in the very infamous black market location called, "The Underground". For years it has been since these slaves of battle have seen daylight, and for years they have trained in the hopes of finally escaping to the upper ground.

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Torment. Plain and simple.

How many years has it been since he last breathed fresh air? How many years has it been since he last looked up upon the sky and wondered at its beauty? When was the last time he could stop and smell the figurative flowers of life? He did not know. Nor the ones closest beside him. They each pondered at the thought of a free living, but only rarely did it seem possible. How was the life of a regular supposed to be? Only God could tell them now...

Drake sat in his small apartment room, wondering when the next time he could see the smiling faces of his friends and family would be. Maybe three years have passed since that fateful day. Maybe more. But all he was sure of now, was of his name and importance in the fighting market. It seemed only like yesterday when he first came, young and naive as he was. He looked down to the floor, and stared past the chains that bound him to this room. What had become of his existence? He wondered. Yet nothing came up into his consciousness to tell him of hope. Nothing but a small memory of once lasted freedom.

A thump came upon his room door, the knocking of a busy investor who had come to bring Drake to the "Grounds". This would be... the second.. no, third time he had to make that journey this week. For this particular instance, it was to complete the trading of him from this team to another. What would the other team be like? He asked himself. Almost as soon as he stood up for the door, it came crashing open, with the figure of an old man behind it. The elder stood off the ground at a small height compared to Drake's, with a visage almost half as tormented as his. He knew this to be one of the dirtiest investors in the entire Underground, but also one of the most respected and wealthy among traders. With a crooked smile and a cough, he limped into the room where Drake stood, and unlocked the chains binding him to the floor. Only a silver tag remained wrapped around his throat, charged and ready for if he ever decided to run away. Both of them grimly and silently left the room as soon as the exchange of glances ended.

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Arriving along the rusty floor of the "Grounds", they both looked up to the giant structure which laid spread before them. It gleamed against the glow of artificial lighting above, and seemed to disappear as its back merged into the back wall of the underground city. The dirtily polished monoliths which stood at its sides solemnly stood straight, as if commanded to do so by a higher force.

Drake slowly prodded across the large courtyard of the place, trying his best not to stray off of the main path. Who knew what horrors lay hidden in these parts. Once he actually entered into the building, a stench of sweat immediately drifted past, and engulfed them within it. "Disgusting," he thought, while making his way through the crowds of people that already gathered in this small hallway. To the sides of the path, pictures were hung of previous great fighters, who all in turn died at respective parts of their career. Behind, Drake was to make sure that he did not lose sight of his manager, or else the conclusion of runaway might be brought up. Maneuvering past a group of civilians, each taking their time loitering around the outside of the Exhibition Hall, he came upon the Administrative building, where the trade was to take place. "What's next?" Drake thought when a screech came from the crowd surrounding him.