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The Shadow of South Carolina (True Grave & The Unusual Panda)

True Grave

Warrior
Joined
Jun 30, 2010
Location
Where The Fight Takes Me
Brandon Price sat quietly on a bus as it moved along the oceans of roadways that it had to cross between New York and South Carolina. He was a young man, only 21, but felt like had lived ten times that in lifetimes. He was a fifth degree black belt in Fang Karate, a school founded by his father, Thomas Price, who was a Karate Master and current Heavyweight Champion in the Ultimate Fighting Championships, or UFC. The Price family was full of warriors of many disciplines, but Brandon's path at 18 had been unorthodox and illegal, going underground to pit fight with dangerous and ruthless men. His father's manager, Roger Adler, had coached Brandon through it, and the two had made a bundle of money. He had fought constantly, racking up an incredible five hundred straight victories in the arena to become its champion, earning his nickname, the Dragon of the Underground.

Brandon fought five hundred more times, all straight victories, and retired undefeated with a record of 1000-0. It had been harder than anyone could imagine, and he had suffered devastating injuries at times. Even after all that fighting, Brandon was never truly sure that he was the best, because it was a huge world out there, and he was just the underground champ of one city. Though he could have toured the world, he wanted to be sure that he was really as good as he could be in the United States first. Moreover, he wanted to do it alone, without Roger's good but greedy coaching. So, he began his own tour of the country, fighting his way to the top in ten states at multiple clubs and arenas.

Brandon had returned home recently to visit with his family and Roger, letting them know of his progress and what was going on in his life. Then, he packed up his few belongings and hopped on a bus to South Carolina. He had not visited a southern state before, and he wanted to see how different it was from northern fighting circuits. The bus was supposed to reach the city today, and he smiled as it pulled into the station. When the doors opened, he stepped off with the other passengers and began heading through the terminal. As he stepped out of the terminal, the bright sun almost blinded him, forcing him to cover his brown eyes with his hand.

He whistled to hail a cab, having perfected the way to do it in his home borough of Manhattan. When the cab stopped, he handed him a fifty and asked him to take him to the nearest bar, since bar patrons always know where stuff goes down. The cabbie was not very talkative, but he was friendly and courteous enough to ask him some basic questions and be sociable. Brandon got out at the first bar he saw, a place called the "Georgia Snake Pit", which actually sounded promising for what he wanted. When he stepped inside and saw a big MMA cage in the center of the bar, he knew he had struck gold. There was a woman working the bar, and he strided over to her.

The place was pure country bar, with guys wearing cowboy hats and women in tied shirts riding mechanical bulls. Some of the men eyed him curiously, but not in an unfriendly way, it was just different to see a young man in a hoody, track pants, and sneakers around here. The air conditioner next to the bar caught his hair, forcing him to brush his brown hair from his eyes. He sat at the bar and gave the woman a nice smile.
"Hey, there. If you could tell me how to enter into that cage fighting event, I would appreciate it."
 
Wynter was currently running around like a chicken with her head cut off, the petite girl cursing her father under her breath as she flew through the bar, trying to get e everything done. Of course, he left her alone to run the bar on the busiest day of the week. It was fight night, which meant that in about seven hours, every person within a five mile radius would be in here, shouting over each other and shoving money in each other's faces to bet on the fighters. The nineteen year old wasn't necessarily a fan of the fighters, mostly because almost all of them were arrogant and thought that they could get in her pants the second they won a fight, just because she was the daughter of the owner. Boy, did they have another thing coming. She was spit and vinegar, and she had to be. She worked in the city around drunk men that were constantly grabbing at her. And the work uniform didn't really leave a ton to the imagination; A low cut, long sleeve plaid shirt that was tied right above her midriff, a pair of absolutely form fitting faded jean shorts, and, of course, cowboy boots. They got a lot of customers from all around, so her father wanted to really perpetuate that southern girl stereotype, even if it meant his own daughter walking around in what she considered barely anything.

Finally, back at the bar, she let herself breathe, silvery blonde curls falling into her face as she leaned down to grab a glass from under the counter. She filled it up with whiskey, the amber liquid shining in the sunlight that was coming through a skylight above her as she dumped some ice into it. Although she technically wasn't legally allowed to drink yet, her father didn't care as long as she didn't get wasted in front of the customers. Her pale aqua colored eyes scanned the bar slowly, immediately stopping on a man who had just entered the bar. He stuck out like a sore thumb for obvious reasons, but she immediately knew his type. He was a fighter, or at least a trouble maker from the way he carried himself, and she wanted no part of it. She turned around quickly, not even getting a good look at him as she took a sip of her drink and placed it on the back of the bar.

Of course, when she heard the voice behind her ask about the fight, she knew it was him. Everyone around here knew that in order to fight, you had to sign up at least 24 hours in advance, so she just sort of shook her head, her voice somewhat stern as if she expected trouble as she turned around.
"Listen, you can't just walk on in here and expe-"
As she came face to face with him however, her voice caught in her throat, the young woman staring at him for a moment before swallowing hard. His smile caught her off guard, and she immediately looked down at the counter as she composed herself. See, Wynter hadn't ever really had a boyfriend. Well, technically in eight grade she had kissed a boy, but that was it. She went through a sort of ugly duck stage in high school, and it wasn't until senior year that she blossomed into the gorgeous thing she was now. But by then, she had learned how nasty people could be, and no one in her town would ever get anywhere with her romantically. She looked back up at him not even a second later, smiling slightly as she tucked her hair behind her ear.
"You can't just expect to sign up for a fight without buyin' a drink first… I have to get the paperwork together and walk you through the rules."
She said sweetly, trying to adjust her shirt to cover more of her larger than average chest.

The blonde reached under the counter and took out a rather thick roster, placing it onto the counter with a thud as she opened it up to tonight's list. She looked over the open slots, biting her lip slightly before smiling. An odd number of people had signed up, which made it work out perfectly for him to sign up. As long as her father didn't find out, she'd be golden.
"Normally, you have to sign up the day before, at least, but I'm gonna make an exception cause you ain't from around here. You just can't let my father find out, otherwise he'll have my hide. Rules are no shirts, no shoes, no belts, no weapons. Fighting in any way, shape, or form is allowed, oh, and you have to sign this waiver, in case you get killed or something'."
She slipped a piece of paper in front of him, which pretty much alleviated all responsibility of the bar in case of death or injury. After all, they had to pretend as if they followed the rules of the state. She then held a pen out to him, smiling slightly as she looked over his face slowly.
"So, you wanna sign up?"
 
The bartender reacted with unexpected sternness and vigor as she turned around, but then her voice caught in her throat as soon as she looked at him. Brandon was a good-looking and confident young man, so he was used to women acting this way around him. The woman was smokin' hot and that outfit was enhancing that. As she adjusted her attitude and the neckline of her shirt to try and cover more of her large bust, he pulled a twenty out of his pocket and held it between two fingers as he offered it to her.
"In that case, give me a draft of anything and tell me what I need to do."
He would have give her more, since he had plenty to spare, but didn't think it was a good idea to start flashing cash around here until these locals knew how tough he was.

The roster she pulled out was pretty thick, which was good, because it meant more people to fight. She explained to him that he needed to sign up at least a day before the fighting started, which explained her earlier irritability.
"Well, I appreciate you giving this out-of-townee a break."
She then seemed to fear her father's wrath for signing him up.
"Your dad runs the joint, huh?"
She laid out for him that the fighting was bare knuckles and bare feet only, the same rules as everywhere else.

Brandon took the pen from her and chuckled.
"That's what I came to this city for."
He filled out the paperwork, including his name, height, weight, age, and any nicknames he went by. He chose to leave off his old nickname because this was a fresh start, and just left it blank for now. Brandon then signed the waiver and gave all the paperwork back to the bartender. He fixed her with a good-natured glint in his eyes.

"Do you have a place I can change into my fighting outfit? If not, I can always strip down here."
Every time Brandon fought, he always wore a pair of black trunks similar to the kind the professional fighters in the UFC wear. It gave him maximum maneuverability and nothing to hold back whatever kind of attack he wanted to do.
"Also, if I could get something to eat with that beer, I would appreciate it. I need some fuel to get my engine going."
 
Wynter took the money and opened the register, making change for it before placing it onto the counter. She then went ahead and started pouring the beer, hair falling into her face slightly as she nodded.
"Yeah… he built it from the ground up before I was born. Made something' out of nothin', I guess. But more and more often, lately, I'm in charge of this place and he's doin' God knows what."
She laughed slightly as the glass finished filling, the girl placing it onto the counter along with a napkin for him before smiling. There weren't a lot of people she had met that signed up for a fight in this place without at least seeing one first. She wondered if he knew what kind of trouble he was getting himself into, but then again, it was none of her business. He was a grown man, and he had signed a legal document. It was no skin off of her nose if he wanted to get beaten into a bloody pulp on what she presumed was his first night in town.

"We have a room out back you can get changed into 'fore you go out, and I can get you somethin' from the kitchen now. I hope you like southern food."
She smiled and headed back from behind the counter, full hips swaying quickly as she walked quickly through the kitchen door. A few men sitting at a table directly across from the kitchen pointed at her as she walked away, one of them running his hand back through his hair as if he was trying to preen himself. She didn't come back out for about twenty minutes, but when she did, she had a large plate of food in her hand. She placed it onto the counter, brushing her hands off on her shorts before nodding to the plate.

"We have better stuff later. The cook don't come in until an hour before the fights start. I don't get why, since we're swamped from the second this place opens in the mornin', but try to explain that to my father and all you get is bitchin'."
The blonde hooked her finger into the waist of her pants, taking a slow sip of the golden liquor before placing it back down and sighing.
"So, what brings you down here? I mean, you don't look like you're from anywhere around here…."
She asked curiously, noticing the men at the table eyeing her as she shook her head in annoyance at them.
 
Brandon listened as she told him the story of how her father built the place and how she was pretty much the manager.
"Ah, I see."
She handed him the glass of beer and he took a pull of it. It was actually pretty good, and not so strong that a single glass would mess him up.
"I appreciate that, ma'am."
She came back with a giant platter of food, and he knew he couldn't eat all of that before a fight or he'd be too sluggish to put up much of a fight.

"Maybe the bus driver dropped me off in the wrong state. That right there sure looks like I got off in Texas."
All jokes aside, he began to eat what she had put forward. It was delicious, and he was on his third morsel before he knew it. He hadn't eaten the whole trip, and it had caught up with him. She explained to him that the cook came in later with better stuff, and he wondered what they had that was better than this.

Brandon looked at her as she asked him why he was here and correctly deduced that he was not from around here.
"You're right, I'm not from around here. I'm from the Big Apple, New York City. Although, to be more specific, I'm from Manhattan. I'm on a tour of the country engaging in no-holds-barred fights. South Carolina just happened to be my latest stop, because I wanted to see how well southern boys can really fight."
 
"New York? Oh, you ain't gonna last a second in that ring with those boys…."
She said softly, leaning forward on the bar as she nodded towards the group of men that were eyeing her. See, they were bad seeds. They didn't just like to fight because they were good at it. They genuinely liked hurting other people, especially to try and get the affections of the bartenders and waitresses. ANd it usually worked, with all of them except Wynter. She wanted no part of their sleazy behavior, and so even after they won and came sucking around looking for praise, she ignored them all.

The blonde curls cascaded over her shoulder, covering her chest slightly as she pointed them each out.
"Butch sent a guy to the hospital last week, and that there is Miles. He fights real dirty. And then the big dumb one who looks at me like I'm a piece of meat is Cain. He don't lose often, less he's had a lot to drink 'fore hand. But tonight he's stone cold sober…"
Cain winked at her as she pointed to him, the girl immediately repulsed as she turned her attention back to the new kid. Of course, it was too late. The big lug moseyed over to the bar, leaning down against the counter in her space as he ran a hand through her hair.

"Hello beautiful. Winnie, when I win tonight, you're comin' home with me, right?"
"Ugh, not in your wildest dreams…."
"Don' be such a bitch…"
He grabbed her arm to keep her from walking away, which only got him a face full of whiskey as she snarled.

"Unless you want my father to come in before the fight, I suggest you go back to your seat and leave me alone."
Cain looked like he wanted to sock her, but rather than grab her or do anything drastic before the fight, he just muttered, pulling the alcohol soaked shirt off to expose the musculature underneath. Not that it warranted any glance from her. She finally looked back up at the man in front of her, pouring another little bit of whiskey into her glass as she spoke.

"My name's Wynter, by the way."
 
Brandon's eyes flicked with amusement when she said that he wouldn't last a second against his competition. He turned as she pointed to three guys and gave their achievements. He instantly knew what Butch, Miles, and Cain were; local tough guys who thought they were all that. But he could tell just by looking at them that they were no match for him. Of course, this bartender was not likely to believe him if he just told her that. So, he would wait until his fight to prove it.

Brandon was about to pinch a nerve on Cain's neck to knock him out and protect the lady bartender, but she threw a glass of whiskey in the guy's face and he backed off. When he took his shirt off, he was muscular but not in a functional way. Brandon saw a swaggering bully that built up his muscles for show, and that was not going to help him against someone with his level of skill and experience.
"My name is Brandon Price. It's nice of you to be concerned about me, but don't be. Maybe after tonight, you'll see that city boys are a lot tougher than you think."
 
"Well, Brandon, I hope you're right. You're the first guy to come in here in a long time that hasn't tried to stick his hand down my pants, so needless to say, I'll be rootin' for you."
She smiled at him slightly, finishing the bit of liquor she had poured into her glass before placing it with the dirty stuff under the bar. She ran a hand back through her long locks, letting them fall behind her as she glanced around the room slowly. It was already starting to fill up for the fight, even though it wasn't for hours, still, and she knew she'd be far too busy to stay and chat. Even though that was what she wanted. Sighing softly, she tapped the toe of her boot on the floor, slowly taking a step back away from the counter as she ran her fingers over her flat belly slowly.

"Maybe if you win tonight, I can buy you a drink."
Clearly, she was a lot friendlier with him than most of the locals, but his looks weren't entirely the reason, although they helped. The real reason was that he was respectful towards her. He hadn't started grabbing at her or asking for her number and he was able to stare at her face instead of the DD's of her chest. It was nice, for once. So obviously, she wouldn't mind spending a little bit more time with him. Of course, she was sure after the fight he'd move on to the next town, so getting attached wasn't ideal. Still though, it was nice to have someone around who wasn't thinking only of what was under her clothes.
"But I'm gonna be super busy until the fights are over, so I can't stay and talk. Meals on the house, and I'm sure I'll see you out back before the fight."
She smiled and petted his arm gently, letting her fingers linger as she slowly started to walk away. Of course, Cain was muttering something and staring at her, clearly having some sort of revenge on his mind.
 
Brandon chuckled at her remark.
"Well, I don't know you that well, yet. I also appreciate your support."
He finished his beer and continued eating on what she had given him.
"Do you always meet with the fighters after they get changed? I guess it will be nice seeing a woman when I come out of there."

Brandon watched as she touched his arm before walking away. She was flirting with him pretty heavily, and he looked at her as she walked away. She was a beautiful young woman with a perfect body, and he wouldn't mind getting close to her. He ate what he could of the food and pushed the rest behind the counter. The bar was starting to fill up, and people were talking about the fight. Brandon just sat and waited as time ticked by.

He then turned as someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around to see Cain standing there, and politely asked if he could help him.
"Yeah, just don't get too attached to Wynter. She's coming home with me tonight after I lay your butt out...That is, if one of the others doesn't do it first."
"All right, big guy. I'll see you in the ring."

Cain walked away and sat back down. The time passed and it was soon getting toward time to fight. He left the bar and began heading out back. Once inside the locker room, he took off his hoody, short-sleeved shirt, track pants, and shoes to reveal his black trunks. True to his Karate training, he fought barefoot. There was a speaker in the locker room, so he would know when it was his time to fight.
 
Once her father got to the bar, she was allowed to give up the reigns and let him take care of the bar. Now, she had a different job, and she actually hated this one even more than running the bar. See, once the contract was signed, you couldn't back out of the fight. You had to go through with it, and most times, once people saw the others they'd be fighting, they wanted to run for the hills. So, having a pretty girl come out there and spend time got their feathers ruffled. All of the sudden, the idea of winning her over by being the most macho was a real possibility to them, and they'd stick it out until their fight time. Of course, then she was also the one who had to call the ambulance most times after they got pummeled, so how much luck was she really?

The waitresses switched off fight nights, and each week a different one would go back there to check on the boys every once and awhile. Or, if you were like some of the girls, you stayed in their the whole time, trying to pick out exactly the guy you wanted to take you home. Wynter, however, wasn't that type of girl. She headed back to the lockers, hands in her pockets as she knocked and pushed open the door. Of course, the three stooges were sitting together, murmuring and eyeing her as she walked in, but she couldn't be bothered right now. Especially not after she saw Brandon. Contrary to what she thought when she had looked at him before, now she was actually thinking he might have a chance. And she was about to talk to him, too, when a loud smack to her rear sent her spinning around to glare at Cain. God, if she could have gotten one swing. One measly little punch to the jaw and she'd be happy. But her trying to attack Cain was a very bad idea on her part, so instead, she just walked over to Brandon and sighed.

"You're up in one minute. You too, Butch."
The wiry man with the farmer's tan grinned, showing off the few missing teeth he had as he hopped up. He wasn't going to wait for Wynter, and was already out of the lockers before she could say anything else.
"Kick his ass, okay?"
The blonde smiled, her much shorter frame looking even smaller next to him. Of course, most men made her look tiny, but instead of feeling defensive about it, she actually felt secure.
"You ready to start?"
 
Brandon watched as Wynter walked in. His functional muscles, including a well-defined six-pack and huge biceps and leg muscles, were now fully visible. On his back was a tattoo of a tiger with fangs dripping blood, a reference to the Fang School of Karate that he came from. It seemed that his first opponent would be Butch, the guy who had sent someone to the hospital the previous week. He stretched out a bit and smiled at Wynter.
"I'm more than ready, so let's do this."

It felt nice that such a beautiful woman was in his corner, and he was feeling the rush of eminent combat. He left the locker room and headed into the bar. He went up the steps and into the cage. Once the doors were shut and locked, an announcer got on the microphone.
"Evenin', y'all. This here's gonna be a fight between Charleston local Butch and a new guy named Brandon Price. Let's get it on!"

Brandon assumed his black belt Karate stance, one arm up protecting his face and the other down to his stomach, while his right foot was in front of his body. Butch's face twisted into a maniacal grin, and he came forward to start throwing punches. To Brandon's trained eyes, they were slow and badly timed. He dodged all of them and countered with a palm strike to his nose, followed by two punches and an elbow to the side of his face that dropped him to the ground. Butch tried to get to his feet, but a kick to his stomach while he was down forced him up. Brandon grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the cage, punching him in the face repeatedly.

After blood was running down Butch's face, he tossed him to the ground and stomped and raised his leg almost vertical to his body to finish him with an axe-kick to the head that knocked his opponent unconscious. Brandon raised his fist in victory, and the crowd began to roar with approval.
"The new kid has done it! Brandon Price has steamrolled Butch to claim his first victory in the cage. Congratulations, son!"
Brandon exited the cage after it was unlocked and proceeded back to the locker room to await his next fight.
 
Now, obviously he was attractive, but that wasn't what had her pressed against the cage wide eyed when he started fighting. Oh no, what had her whole body up against the side of the arena was how skilled he was at fighting. She had obviously been wrong, and she knew it from the second he avoided everything Butch threw at him. Her breath caught in her throat as her fingers tangled in the wire of the cage, the girl watching in amazement at the way he moved. The fight only lasted a few minutes, but it felt like so much longer to her. See, Wynter normally didn't watch the fights. Men beating the shit out of each other for money and enjoyment was idiotic, in her opinion, so she had never bothered to pay attention to how people did. All she needed to know was who to hand the five hundred dollars to after all the fights had been finished. And of course, she wasn't the only woman in the bar to notice him. A few other waitresses had noticed the way he handled himself, and it seemed like they all wanted a piece of the city boy. As he headed back to the locker room, she headed into the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror and trying to figure out exactly what she could do to make herself more alluring. She wasn't the type to wear makeup or fancy clothes, so she honestly had no idea what she could alter to make herself look more appealing to him. A part of her chided herself for being so foolish, but another part liked the idea of getting his attention.

Finally, without altering her appearance in any way, she headed out back to the locker room. Of course, Cain and Miles looked pissed. Butch hadn't come back, and in his place was the city boy that they felt was encroaching on their territory. Which, of course, was Wynter. She brought him over a towel, tossing it into his lap as she looked him over slowly.
"I owe you an apology…. you didn't get hit once."
She said, very clearly impressed with his skills. She sat down on a bench near him, crossing her legs slowly as she looked over at the two guys in the corner.
"One down, two to go, right boys?"

"Shut your god damn mouth, Wynter."
"Miles, you ain't gotta fight him if you don' wanna. Are you scared?"
The blonde boy grumbled and turned his back on her, the young woman smirking before turning her attention back to Brandon.
"You… uh… you're really serious about fightin', huh?
 
Brandon chuckled as she gave him the towel.
"Apology accepted."
He realized that Miles would probably be his next opponent, so he was ready for the so-called 'dirty' fighter. Wynter asked him if he was really serious about fighting.
"You could say that. It's my whole purpose in life."

He toweled off his sweat.
"So, how much do you get if you win a fight?"
Cain glared at him.
"Hopefully enough to pay your hospital bills, bitch. You're gonna pay for what yuo did to Butch. If Miles doesn't wreck your punk ass, I will."
 
"Five hundred dollars, cash, and free food and drinks until the next fight. And loads of attention from all the girls who work here."
"Except the frigid bitch."
Wynter almost flinched at Miles' comment, looking down at the ground for a second, not responding to it before running a hand back through her hair slowly. Sometimes the comments they made bothered her, but she pushed it out of her head, looking back up at Brandon as she smiled.

Some time later, the speaker called both Miles and Brandon for the next fight, and Wynter stood up slowly as she tucked her hair behind her ear gently.
"Good luck, but uh… I don't think you need it."
She smirked slightly, glancing over his form for a second before quickly sashaying out of the locker rooms and back towards the bar.
 
Brandon smiled.
"Five hundred's not bad. I like the other perks, as well."
He winked at Wynter and gave her a smile.
It wasn't too much longer before the next fight was called.
"Thanks, Wynter."

He walked up to the cage and entered it, listening to it be locked behind him.
"All right y'all, it's time for our next fight. It's the new guy Brandon vs. local Miles. Let's get it on!"
Brandon stanced up, and Miles began approaching him carefully. When he was within range, he went for a punch to the kidney.

Brandon's left arm deflected the blow and came back for a back-fist across the face, followed by a punch in the jaw. Miles swung at his head, but Brandon ducked under it and came up with an uppercut to the jaw that rattled his teeth. He threw a few blows at his side and stomach, then came up with an elbow to the chin that knocked Miles to the ground. Brandon raised his leg and performed an axe-kick that knocked out Miles. He raised his fist in victory, and the crowd went wild.
"Hot damn, he's done it again!" the announcer cried.

The cage was unlocked and Brandon stepped out. Many of the girls were eying him, and the fans were cheering for him. He proceeded into the back room.
"Looks like it's just you and me, Cain."
"You're winning streak ends here, city boy. I'm going to destroy you when we get in there."
 
The more she watched him fight, the more attracted she felt to him, to the point where she had to walk away from the cage even before the fight was over. Although, it had been clear from the beginning that he would win. Miles didn't stand a chance. The second the fight was called, she headed back into the lockers, but she wasn't the first woman back there. A red headed girl was sitting on the bench already, waiting clearly for Brandon, and Wynter stopped in her tracks. Now, Wynter was incredibly gorgeous, but because of her lack of dating and romantic interests, she doubted it quite often. So, once she saw the other bartender she worked with, she all of the sudden wasn't sure how she measured up.

"And then you're comin' home with me."
Wynter glanced over at Cain, rolling her eyes at his comment before walking over towards Brandon. She stopped when she was about two feet away from him, the girl stuffing her hands into her pockets as she nodded towards him.
"One more and you get it all."
"Which includes me."
The carmine haired woman smirked at Brandon, standing up slowly as Wynter sighed and glanced away. The red head was thin, almost overly so, and definitely didn't have any of the curves Wynter had to offer. She stood silently, eyeing Brandon provocatively as Wynter broke the silence.

"There's a few minutes between the last fights. You need anythin'?"
 
Brandon nodded.
"Let's hope tonight is just the start of a long line of people to fight. I want to fight as many people as I can."
Brandon turned to the red-head as she offered herself to him.
"That's okay, ma'am. The money alone is payment enough."

Brandon turned back to Wynter with a smile.
"No, that's okay. I'm ready to go."
The last few minutes ran out, and it was time to fight. The two left the locker room and stepped into the ring.
"All right y'all, it's time for the main event."

"Our last fight tonight is between the new tough guy Brandon and the badass local Cain. Let's get it on!"
Brandon stanced up, and Cain rushed at him. Brandon waited until he was in range, then stepped forward and hit him with a palm strike directly to the sternum that sent him flying back. The man gargled and slumped to the ground, unconscious.
"Brandon has defeated Cain to get the full purse tonight, folks!"

Brandon left the cage and approached Wynter.
"You should call an ambulance for Cain. I broke his sternum with that blow, and he will need immediate medical care."
He went into the back room and changed before he returned to the bar.
"$500 per fight means I just made $1500 tonight. I'll take that in cash."
 
Wynter was flabbergasted at how quickly the fight had ended, and at his words, she nodded and headed out back to get a phone. Once the EMTs were called, Wynter headed back behind the bar, getting the money for the fight out for when Brandon would show up. And of course, he did. She smiled at him, leaning on the counter and holding the money out to him. Of course, when he went to reach for it, she pulled it back slightly, sighing softly before speaking.
"So, where are you going after this?"
She asked sweetly, allowing him to take the money from her hand this time as she stood up slowly. The EMTs arrived and rushed in, carrying Cain out on a stretcher a few moments later before she spoke again.

"I mean, you just got here. Are you leaving already?"
She shouldn't have been so curious, but after what he had just done to Cain, she just wanted to know more about him. How he got to be such an incredible fighter. Why he didn't try to go an actual professionally respected route? She just had so many questions. Another part of her hoped he was staying for a different reason, though. He was the first guy since high school that she could look at and not instantly want to punch for being a disrespectful douchebag.

"That was amazing, tonight, by the way."
 
As the EMT's carried Cain out, one of them looked at his wound.
"Holy crap! Is that a hand print?"
Emblazoned on Cain's chest was a full white copy of Brandon's palm, the sign that Brandon had used one of Fang Karate's secret techniques, the Shadow Palm.

Brandon reached for the money, and chuckled as Wynter pulled it back.
"I don't know. I don't have anywhere to stay in town, so I was going to get a room at a local hotel."
She asked if he was leaving town and he shook his head.
"Nope, probably not for awhile. Thanks, and I told you that city boys could be really tough."
 
"Oh, well, I mean-"
Wynter was cut off as a tall man pushed her out of the way slightly, shaking the mans hand roughly as he spoke with an even deeper accent than Winnie.
"Names Paul. I run this place, and I gotta say, you're one amazing fighter. We could use a guy like you around the farm, and I heard you tellin' Winnie here that you ain't got no place to stay. We have a spare room, if you're interested. Winnie'll tell you all about."

Her father practically booked it out back after their conversation, and the blonde only sighed at how quickly her father ran off. She ran a hand back through her hair, smiling at him slightly as she spoke.
"If you wanna, I can bring you back to the farm. Otherwise, at least let me drive you to a hotel or somethin'."
 
Brandon listened to Wynter before he was surprised by a tall man butting in on them. He looked too old and out-of-shape to be a fighter, and all confusion was cleared up when he identified himself as Paul, Wynter's father.
"Thank you, sir. I'm glad that I made you happy."
In a rushed way, he offered him a job and a place to stay, leaving it to Wynter to sort out the details as he rushed out the back door. Brandon turned back to her and chuckled.

"Your father's quite the character. His offer sounds pretty reasonable. Let me shower, get my stuff out of the locker room, and then you can show me this farm. The hard work will be good training between fights, a good way to build and harden muscle."
He went out back and stripped out of his trunks to shower. When he was finished, he dried off, packed his stuff, and met Wynter at the bar so that they could head out.
 
She was expecting the answer she got. Her father came off as uncaring sometimes with how quickly he introduced himself and then ran off. Honestly, she thought he would have laughed it off and let her take him to a hotel. When he said yes, though, she immediately looked up at him, smiling slightly as she nodded.
"Um, yeah, absolutely. I'll finish up here."
They parted ways, and the blonde ran through the closing parts of her job. Making sure all the glasses were in the kitchen and that her tips were taken out of the jar. Once she finished, she punched out and waited by the bar, smiling as he approached her.

"Hey, my cars out back."
She led him outside and to the small pickup truck that was parked up against the building, tossing the backpack she carried instead of a purse into the bed of it before climbing into the front of the truck. Once he was inside, she pulled out and headed back to the farm, her small frame perched on the edge of the seat.
"So, you're okay with helping out, right? We've got horses and pigs and cows, and there's a lot of work to do every day. You don't mind takin' part in it?"
 
Brandon turned to her as she asked him if he would be okay helping out around the farm.
"Yeah, sure, that sounds fine. Working on a farm is hard work, and I can use it to stay in shape and build even more muscle. It's the other side of life from the city, and I wouldn't mind seeing what it's like."
He got out of the truck once they had stopped, and he turned to her.
"So, where am I staying?"
 
"The guest bedroom is across the hall from mine. It's upstairs, and it's the last door on the right. I can show you, if you need."
Wynter smiled and slid out of the drivers seat of the truck, landing on the ground as she looked around the farm land. The sun had almost completely set, allowing a golden light to cover everything in its path. Off in the distance, there was a fairly large dog chasing a few sheep idly, and Wynter shrugged it off before heading towards the house, hips swaying slowly.
"Come on, slow poke. I'll show you where you can get set up.

She led him upstairs to what would be his room for the time being, pushing the door open to expose a decently sized bed with white sheets, blue walls, and a dresser in the corner. It was a bit barren, but it sure did feel home-y.
"Do you need anythin'?"
 
Brandon nodded. He didn't mind being so close to Wynter, as she was smoking hot and really sweet. He followed her, chuckling as she called him a slowpoke. Once they were in the house, he took a look around to see that it was classic Americana, a throwback to a more innocent time, but with modern technology. He followed her upstairs and found the guest room, which would do just fine.
"I just need to know what time to be up by," he said with a smile as he turned to her.
 
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