Ringside of Revelry [Gaoh/Sola]

Heat filled the air.

Spectator's shouts and the smell of sweat cramped the stage, another body making contact with the mat to thunderous applause. Wrestling. There was something romantic about it, the all-out brawl. No defense, no secret technique - everything laid bare for the sake of onlookers. Save for the pageantry of their masks, but there was a nostalgia there. One of blood and broken bones.

Gaoh sat on the front row, crowded on either side by far rowdier audience members. A half buttoned shirt exposed several of his estigma, the fabric fighting to be anything but one large sweat stain. A sweating bottle hung loosely from his fingertips, amusement dancing in his eyes as he sunk into his seat. The stands were ramshackle, hastily constructed, ring not much better for wear. A tent overhead spared them from the sun, but the fluorescents streaming from support to support were making their best argument for otherwise.

But what a stage! A stained mat with decades of blood, ropes rebound on top of one another time and time again. A ring of hard fought victories. A ring of crushing defeats. And, if he had to put money on it; a ring of more than a few deaths. Somewhere to make a life out of violence, and in that, the arrancar felt home. A roar erupted from the crowd as an elbow drop landed - even amongst the noise, an audible crack echoed, the luchador visibly bouncing off their opponent from the force.

Gaoh whistled through his teeth, a half grin crossing his face as the referee took the luchador's hand. "And today's winner; STURMDRANGER!" Applause followed the sound of the bell, as the man's opponent rolling on the mat with a hand clutching his throat. Someone resembling a medic approached the stage, but Gaoh's attention was on the winner. A narrowed eye, and the edges of his senses tingling. "An arrancar wearing a mask." His smile widened, voice lost amongst the crowd.

"That's funny."

Where'd he get this stupid thing? Off some random hollow that didn't want to take it laying down. Sola was not the type to kill but sometimes it had to be done. Since then he'd taken the mask and wore it with a lion's pelt. The lion had to die for the sake of food, you see. Together it hung over his shoulders and obscured his face. This was all his idea of training, get it? The pelt was kind of annoying to move around in and he couldn't see so well through the other hollow's mask.

"Ey. Next, c'mon. I'm on a streak and you're all boring me to tears!"

He shouted at the crowd while kicking at the ground out of boredom. He just wasn't working out his frustrations at losing the shortstack very well. He never got his fight to a finish with her. It made the hole in his heart feel that much larger and unsatisfied by the triumphant taste of lose or victory that came from a strong competition.

"You all suck!"

One more time to boil their blood as his shirtless athleticism was on display. He was scrawny compared to everyone but he wasn't some wimpy human. He was aching to throw hands one more time or until he tasted the dirt in his mouth.

Gaoh glanced at the crowd with the luchador's exclamation. The sight gave him little hope of anything interesting - a mass of middle aged men, or worse, glitzy young ones. An occasional bit of wrist candy hanging on, but no one showing any desire or capacity to enter the ring. His ears lent to the idea, a mix of boos and incredulousness from the audience. Couldn't blame them, really. No fun in watching some random shmuck getting their organs readjusted. "Fuck it."

Shrugging, Gaoh swallowed the rest of his beer, dropping the bottle onto the ground. A chuckle from the bottom of his throat as he stood, the audience members on either side giving exasperated glances of their own. A louder man from the back shouted something in a language he didn't understand, but hell, he sounded excited. That was fun.

The arrancar stepped to the edge of the stage, grabbing up and pulling on the ropes. Landing with a flip, his face was stretched wide with a grin, the crowd quickly shifting from dissatisfaction to murmurs. "Hey~y, buddy." he addressed the wiry man across from him, arms spread wide. "I'll take ya on. Won't even take your cash out if I win." Winking with the last word, his hands moved to the center of his shirt.

"First though -" Smiling all the way, buttons popped as the shirt was torn from his frame, quickly knotting sleeves behind his head. "I need a mask, right?" Almost sheer from the sweat, it made no issue for him to see, skin bare to the crowd, the hole in his stomach staring Sola down. With an open palm towards the man, Gaoh whistled, gesturing him forward.

Mask? What was this guy on about. This thing was on his head to make it harder but Sola respected any individual that challenged themselves with a handicap. How great it was to test yourself at a disadvantage and so when Gaoh was amidst the ring the monkey stretched and cocked his head to limber up again.

"Dunno what your talk of cash is."

He expressed with no idea as to the fact there was money here. Sola had no use for such things after all. Anything he wanted, he would get with his own two hands and good old hard work. This battle was all the reward he needed and it psyched him up to get into a fighting stance. If he wanted to be smart he'd think about the fact that Gaoh probably got to see how he fought already.

Didn't matter though. Sola just took a large leap into the air and went for a dive kick on the man's face with the intent to bounce right off it and land in a beautifully done backflip.

Gaoh laughed at the remark, blowing a kiss into the air. "Thanks for dinner."

Then, the sound of the gong, the blur of movement.

Karateka met Luchador with the vacuum of breath, a gasp emptying from the crowd. Sweat framed the edge of Gaoh's vision, a step, a grab, a throw - motions of a performance, catching against the other actor as he jumped forward.

His stance shifted down and to the side, hand shooting out with finger's locking for a moment on Sola's ankle. Rotating his shoulder, Gaoh let the man's momentum do the work for him; a successful attempt landing the Luchador's back to the mat, skin hitting stage blossoming in the temporary silence.

Shifting back to height, Gaoh's arms raised to the crowd, smile beaming out as he circled to the center stage. ""Come ON!" he shouted, goading the downed man as his heartbeat rose. "Just because you won, you get cocky!?" Turning to where Sola would stand, his arms dropped to either side, palms cupped, but not yet fists. "I know you can do better than that. Or was that last guy working for you?"

If his throw failed - well, he'd manage.