The goons would soon realize how they have severely underestimated you. Not just by being a doll undercover, but possessing military training on part with elites and more. The best these guys probably could've faced would be a bar fight. Though this fight may be taking place in a bar, it'll be unlike anything they have faced before. You analyze your situation, everything as if standing still compared to the speed of your processes. You've being held back by two guys holding your arms in place, your back pressed back against the counter. Ralph is currently looking to the crowd of patrons, showing off the SF knife he took from you. A ludicrous attempt to make you seem like the enemy, but should he be allowed to keep the upper hand, they'll rather believe him who stands triumphantly.
[X] You smile...
[ ] You hold back a smile...
... as the fun is about to start.
Lazily raising your right leg as if trying to keep balance, you slam it back down, right on the foot of one of the goons holding you, enough to make him yelp in pain and loosen his grip on you. Twisting your body to having him release you, the other goon couldn't hold you in place enough, allowing you to take hold of his yelling head and slam him against the counter, hard enough to make him fall over. The one still holding you grabbed both your shoulders and tried to wrestle you down, to which you responded with quick jabs on his stomach, chest and shoulders, loosening his grip enough for you to push him back. You now hard breathing room as you stumbled backwards, almost tripping on your feet, which was fully intentional. You stance was loose, flowing lazily, balance looking all over the place. To anyone looking at you, they'd assume you're drunk off your heels, and that's precisely the point.
"Oho, look, the little one's had a little too much to drink!"
"Little bitch… you won't remember the beating I'll give you!"
Zuí quán , otherwise known as the drunken fist, is a martial art style focusing on deceiving the opponent into thinking you are actually drunk with highly off balance and weak looking movements. Though it's all just deception. The techniques allow for very free flow combat and almost constant movement which makes it difficult for the opponents to keep up. Of course, the main advantage of the style is the shock value, so you have a limited window of opportunity to use it while the illusion is still there. That's why you downed your drink in one go for all to see before things escalated, your body size would be enough to convince people that your alcohol tolerance isn't very high. Not to mention, the alcohol actually helps.
Now you're surrounded by three goons, the one who held you, holding his chest in pain. The one whose head you slammed against the counter, slowly picking himself up from the ground. And Ralph, ironically threatening you with the knife he wanted to incriminate you with. They seem convinced by your facade, laughing and grinning.
[X] "... what? Scared of a little… *hic*... girl kicking your ass?"
[ ] "Come at me boys, let's have some *hic* fun!"
[ ] "Not the smartest tools in the… *hic*... shed, are you guys?"
[ ] Write-in
You taunt them, enforcing the illusion. They bite. One comes at you with his fist aiming to meet your face. You move your head back just a little, but enough for him to completely miss. He clearly did not expect such lightning quick evasion, which turned to infuriation upon seeing your smug unharmed grin. He let his fist loose again, which you again evaded. Unbeknownst to him, you were moving him closer to the other goon, until you stuck your tongue out which cause him to go for a straight punch. You loosened your knees and let yourself fall to the ground, his fist racing through empty air pulling him off balance. You aided his stumble by kicking his feet, causing two two goons to collide. You lazily rolled away from the two, hearing the other bar patrons cheer and jeer.
You take this moment to look at your companion, who's struggling in a 1v3 push. Or rather, they're the ones struggling, as her shields have enough surface area and strength to keep them at bay. They try to reach for her over the shields, and she avoids their hands like they haven't washed them in days, which wouldn't be far from the truth. It seems like she really doesn't want to use more force than she's already exerting, but when one unlucky goon manages to grab hold of her hoodie's collar, she clearly snaps.
"Get your dirty hands off me! You damn animals!" YEET, she throws the flimsy men!
With force they're thrown away, one flying off behind the counter, another crashing into a table, the third holding onto her garments until he couldn't anymore, stumbling back from the force into your direction. You use the opportunity to trip him, letting him fly above you and crash into Ralph who was going in for an attack. Now you get yourself up again, slowly but wobbly, keeping good watch of your surroundings. Aside from the two you just sent crashing down, the rest of the guys were getting up again. Stronger punches and pacifying techniques might've kept them on the ground for longer, but you're trying to send them to bed early, not the pharmacy for broken bones and stitches.
The goons got up, visibly hurting all over, now 2 after you and 2 after AA-12. You let the shotgun fight her battle while you fight yours. One of them grabs a bottle, the other grabs a chair. You keep stumbling around in place and pretending to almost fall asleep, and once more they bite. Soon a chair is flying your way. Thanks to your unpredictable movements his aim was a little off, so you could easily get out of it's way with a leaning duck. The object made some ruckus behind you, possibly hitting someone, but it matters not as now a bottle is threatening to crack against your skull, your opponent using it as a melee weapon. You quickly dropped to your knees, the glass object passing above your head, your hands now free to strike at your opponents stomach again. He grunts, then proceeds with a downward swing. You roll between his legs - bad positioning on his part - then kick him with both feet in the back, sending him into the crowd which was not all too pleased with the thrown chair. Another fight starts there, setting off a chain reaction. Soon enough the whole bar is throwing punches.
"Get off of me you idiot and get her!"
Ralph got the goon you crashed into him off of himself and now sent him your way. With the original chair thrower, you now had three men opposing you, one with a knife very well capable of causing damage to a T-doll. Should he get to cut you up and let people see the technology within your body, your cover is blown. But you can't overpower three grown men at once either, else your true nature as a doll would be obvious. Even if you're fighting straightforward brutes, you need to play smart, so you change your positioning.
You move over to the bar counter and roll onto it. You're not very tall but this puts your head level well above everyone else's. And conveniently, in reach of a plethora of drinks. You figure one more to keep the illusion up wouldn't hurt. You reach for a bottle of...
[ ] Absinthe (80% alcohol)
[X] Vodka (70% alcohol)
[ ] Tequila (50% alcohol)
[ ] Whiskey (30% alcohol)
[ ] Beer (10% alcohol)
[ ] Write-in (?% alcohol)
… and drain it down the hatch, all while avoiding the grabby hands of the attackers. Once you've consumed a good amount you brought the bottle down over one of their heads with a fluid motion, purposefully holding back to not break the bottle. You'll already have to pay for the drink, no need to pay for property damage as well. It still hurt him though, enough to leave him exposed for a punch. Or rather, a kick. One proper swing at his jaw and another one's out. You turn to face the next but are forced to evade Ralph swinging you knife at your feet. You jump, trip and stumble, yet evade his swipes perfectly, much to his frustration. Tiring of this dance you kick a hankerchief the bartender had left on the counter into his face, blocking his vision. He stumbles back, letting the third goon take his chance to strike at you. However, you won't give him that chance. You jump off the counter, ramming into him with all your weight, which was quite a bit considering you're largely metal. To everyone else it seemed like a small woman bringing him down with the weight and velocity of the body, but it him it might as well have been an anvil. Thankfully, you landed in a way that wouldn't crush anything of his, aside from his pride. But just to be sure, you delivered him another good night punch.
Patting your soft human landing mat like a good mate, you pick yourself up to wobbly feet, faced with the once again battle ready Ralph, handkerchief off his face and knife in hand. He stares at you, eyes piercing. You keep your own gaze dreamy and loose, but it seems… that won't be necessary anymore.
"You… you're not drunk… what the fuck are you?"
The illusion is broken, the drunken fist's effectivity exhausted, at least against this opponent. It was only a matter of time until someone noticed one cannot possibly be this good while intoxicated. You did not loosen your stance while the audience was still convinced, but your gaze was stern and focused now. This moment would require more than just the element of surprise.
You watch each other's movements, walking in a circle as the crowd cheers, for who you're not entirely sure, but it seems like they're rooting for you, oddly enough. Then, suddenly, Ralph made his move, going for a stab. Big mistake. Your movements for this are quick and precise, like a soldier putting his training to good use. You deflect it with ease using one hand, using the other to backhand his face. Then you twist his arm so that he drops the knife, after which you let go off him but not without a kick. While he stumbled back, you pick up the knife and rush him. You use his bent knee as a support to launch yourself up at him, tackling him to the ground with your knife already positioned at his neck, other hand holding his head down. He doesn't move a muscle, shocked by the sudden turn of events. His eyes were drained of confidence, and while still angry, he had the fear of someone held at knife point. The crowd went silent, as the man is now at your mercy.
"Alright, what the hell is going on here?!"
Suddenly, a voice of authority calls, and all grow silent. All fighting ceases, even on AA-12's front. Though she was already pretty much finished on her part, a goon tightly being squeezed against the wall by her shields spouting curses, another under her heel doing the same. But with the village leader and a handful of town enforcers with him on the scene now, she let them go knowing they won't retaliate now.
Both Gustav and Martha, rifles in hand, look over to you from the bar entrance as you pin Ralph to the ground.
"Help! This crazy bitch is trying to kill me!"
He called, trying to play the victim. Before you could speak however, another voice called.
"Liar! You attacked her!"
"Yeah! You started this Ralph!"
"But she had an SF knife, we all saw it, didn't we?!"
"SF or Griffin, I don't trust her either way!"
"I don't care who did what, someone's paying for the damages on my bar!"
Soon everyone started yelling at each other, a whole different kind of fight brewing up. Gustav planted his palm square against his face in frustration, and this time Martha silenced everyone.
"Quiet you hooligans!"
Once again everyone grew quiet, while the two village leaders made their way to you. With no more reason to threaten Ralph with a knife, nor any more reason to look drunk anymore, you stand up, but your foot is still firmly planted on his chest.
"Heather, before I ask what the everloving hell happened here, I have to ask... were you the one who cut up Jan's body?"
"Yes, and this is what I've found."
You reach into your pocket and hand over the still bloody remains of the bullet you scooped out of Jan's body.
"What… is this…?"
"A bullet, 7.62x39mm. As you well know, SF don't use projectile weapons unless it's explosive artillery. However, the caliber is a match for the AK-47 assault rifle. Now, who had one such rifle in Jan's close vicinity that day?"
"You mean… Ralph?!"
"Don't listen to her! She's an SF conspirator! Hell, I'd bet she's a doll! Just look at her knife!"
He spats out, but you've just about had it with his bullshit. And your enemies receive no mercy when it comes to words.
"Oh, yes, of course, you mean this carbon fiber, super sharp, high quality knife I totally couldn't have scavenged from an SF corpse for its durability, efficiency, and high market price? Truly undeniable proof... of your desperate accusations." as he's about to retort, you press your foot on him harder, causing him to keep quiet as you continue for everyone to hear "I got it today even. You can go there and take a look at the SF I killed with this very knife. I'm sure you'd know your way around that place, you had to when you picked your spot to do what you did. But you didn't count on SF to show up, did you? They heard the gunshot, scared your coward ass off, so you hoped nobody would ever go there and pick up on the evidence. And it took us… what, less than a minute to notice something's wrong? And when we came here to confirm our findings, you thought the best course of action was to fight us. A Griffin agent with military training and her T-doll. Bad decisions all around, if I say so myself."
"You bitch… don't believe her! She's-"
"I've just about had it with this!"
Yelled out the old woman, gaze ablaze with the fury of a thousand suns. Ferocity even Gustav seemed frightened by, and half the bar's patrons too.
"M-martha?"
Before Ralph could muster any sort of defense, the barrel of old Martha's gun entered his mouth, her finger on the trigger threatening to make him a whole new air hole, spreading the taste of gunpowder all throughout his taste buds.ň
"You better spill it out now boy, or I'll blow the truth out of your goddamn throat!"
"Better do what the lady says. Wouldn't want to upset her now, would you?"
You add to the threat, flashing a smug grin. Though Ralph might've shown some fear when he was at your mercy, right now he's downright terrified. You can almost see tears forming in his eyes. He chokes on the gun barrel for a while before breaking, pleading for mercy. Martha pulls it out, but made it clear enough she'll do it again if he doesn't talk.
"Alright… alright! I did it… I killed Jan…"
"Ralph, why?"
"Why? … fucker couldn't keep his mouth shut, that's why!"ň
"What are you talking about?"
"I… we… us and the other guys… we were dealing with the… some men on the black market. They said you refused to trade with them, so we… took some things from storage and-"
"Sweet Marie and Joseph, Ralph! You mixed yourself into a damn crime gang?! We made it clear they were nothing but trouble!"
"They promised us a way out! Enough money to leave this shithole behind, and live as normal people in the big city! But Jan… he chickened out. He didn't want anything to do with it anymore. But he didn't realize that once you're in… you're not getting out."
"So you killed him for that?!"
"It was him or us! I did what I had to survive! I-If I didn't do it, someone else would've! You don't mess with these people!"
"That's right, you shouldn't have messed with those people. Now you face the consequences."
"What… what are you going to do to me?"
Ralph's anger drained as he is about to face his trial. Both Martha and Gustav look at him with anger, disgust and disappointment. Forgiveness has left their vocabulary for this occasion. Gustav spoke first.
"Well, been a while since we needed to use that cell in the sheriff's office. Some time of manual labor, cold nights and shitty living conditions should teach you a thing or two. Don't worry, we'll let you out one day… probably."
"I say this piece of human garbage doesn't deserve such kindness! Exile sounds fitting. Leave him to the Sangvis and the wolves. The rest… we'll see about them."
Proclaimed Martha, showing much more resentment for the criminal than the other village leader. A silence protruded as the two differing opinions settled in the air, then the other village folk started calling out their ideas.
"Let him rot in that cell, the murderer!"
"No, send him to freeze to death!"
"Send him to the minefields!"
"Yeah, the minefields!"
"Quiet!"
Once again the people went silent. Clearly they don't deal with such matters often, else they would already have a typical way of dealing with law breakers of this extend. With such differing opinions, they will require a tie breaker, a neutral party to favor one solution over the other. And so, they look to you.
"Heather… if it weren't for you, this murderer would probably still be at large, and we'd be none the wiser. What do you think we should do with him?"
…
[X] "Throw him in a cell, and have him do public service. At least he'll be of use that way."
[ ] "He seems a little too soft for prison… exile him."
[ ] "It would be interesting to see how he'd fare in the minefields."
[ ] "If you want him dead, I'll do it for you right now." (Shoot him.)
[ ] "... AA-12, what do you think?"
[ ] Write-in
