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Prom, Huh?
Dogpile around the punch bowl! He'd greeted Virgil with a quick "'sup, not bad" before Cody swooped down out of nowhere. Someone was definitely feeling boisterous, but then, it was Cody Patton, and this was prom, so was it really a surprise? The punch jarred a little as Cody's arm suddenly went around him, but nothing spilled, as Mike carefully kept his arm where Cody couldn't knock it aside.

"Yeah, my dad might have something to say if you ruined the tux," he shot back, an easy grin touching his cheeks. The quarterback used to be someone he really disliked, and the way people talked about him made him sound like Attila the Hun, but he was good people if one bothered to get to know him. Besides, they'd been through a lot together, on and off the field; years of slogging your guts out next to someone had a way of forming a bond.

Mike would never see most of these people again after another month or two. He never would've thought he'd say it before football, but Cody was one of the ones he hoped would stay in touch. He moved out of the way so Cody and Virgil could get to the punch, then another voice chimed in and he found his eyes rolling just a little.

Typical Amy. He turned and raised his cup to her, part playing around and part disguising the quick downward motion his eyes took.

"Hey, why not just bring the whole school over here. Didn't miss me too badly, did you?" Because he could do fake-serious too.

Prom, Huh?
(Slight GMing of Amy Bachelor approved)


Roldan's Boxing

"Six three two, roll seven!"

Three small explosions, heavy fists striking leather one after the other. A huff of breath, a roll to his shoulders as he weaved under the swipe of a hand before rising fist first to smash the other mitt into the air. Movement, he dragged his feet in a semicircle to follow, dashing in.

"Four five!"

Punishing body blows shot out, sending the leather reeling and pulverising an imaginary ribcage. The figure backpedalled, right windmilling out as he pursued, whipping around after a duck and step to his left to smash a punishing hand into the mitt that was already there waiting at his enemy's liver. A thunderclap sliced through the air and the two men began their dance again, bodies circling and swaying to and fro as fists lashed out and sweat ran down taut flesh in tiny streams. The world bled away until there was just the ring, only the snap and bang and hiss and endless combinations flowing from nerves to muscles to action.

Finally, everything snapped back with the high-pitched whine of the bell. He let himself slump back in a corner, arms resting on the ropes. Breathe in, and out. In, and out. The coach's voice droned on, and it was a second before he tuned in.

"...coming up, isn't it?"

He blinked, looked up. "Huhwha?"

He was greeted with a low, rumbling chuckle. Carlos Roldan was an old heavyweight who'd gone to seed with age, but he'd lost none of the power of days gone by, in his voice or in his fists. "You know, prom; it's okay to have a life outside the gym, you know."

"Right, prom." That was a thing. Honestly, he was surprised it was still a thing, what with... the past few years and all. What with training, football, studying and all that, he couldn't quite say he'd put any thought into it. "What about it?"

Carlos paused with one of the mitts hanging halfway off his hand, looking at Mike like he'd claimed to be an SOTF fan. "I hope you're kidding."


"It's prom, kid." The mitt landed outside the sparring ring and kicked up a cloud of dust from the warehouse floor, their voices echoing along with the creaking of leather and chains and grunts of exertion elsewhere in the gym. Mike was one of Carlos' special prospects, so the veteran liked to keep him late. "You only get one, don't tell me you want to waste it."

Mike was starting to feel the sweat now, the sore muscles, the bruises from the sparring earlier. This was where he belonged, the kind of discipline that had you killing yourself in the gym while everyone else was out having fun was necessary for any half-decent boxer, but missing prom? That was kind of social suicide. Still... "I've got the June 9th fight to worry about, and I watched those vids you sent me. Guy's a monster; can I really afford to miss a day?"

How much was truth and how much was excuse, he wasn't sure, but Knowles... the kid was all over Youtube for a reason; he looked like if Mike took one wrong step, his head would get knocked off. Carlos, though, he didn't look fazed in the slightest as he slipped between the ropes and brought a meaty hand down on the round timer. No more mitt work apparently, from the look he shot Mike's way.

"Mike, look, I've been workin' with you for the past two years now. You eat, sleep, breathe boxing, and I love that. It's made you a killer in that ring. But you have to take some time for yourself, too; you're pushing too hard to be the next Rocky Marciano or something, and if you don't give your body any time to relax it's gonna break down when you need it most. We've got this Knowles guy, but only if you don't let him get in your head; go for your run that Saturday morning, but I better not see you in the gym. Go have fun, I mean it."


May 13th

Prom Night

So. Prom. Had it been worth missing a day of training? It was hard not to say the jury was still out on that one. He'd been here a while, now; he and Amy had arrived slightly early, plenty of time to relax and mingle before the show really got started. Then people started trickling in, friendly faces and strangers and enemies he'd pretend to get on with and miss because you just plain don't ruin prom with drama, and soon enough there was a veritable throng in the event centre.

That part had been expected. The part where this had been less like prom, more like something between homecoming and a mosh pit? Not so much. Sure, it was fun, it just... wasn't prom. Wasn't prom supposed to be more romantic, formal? Solemn even, depending on the songs? He'd shown up in a tux, danced under the "stars", held himself ready for what almost sounded like a little glimpse at his father's world with its high society balls and parties - lots of suits and pretty dresses and airy music.

Instead, he'd got heat and passion and bumping and grinding and what was less romance and formality than raw energy. Sure, it was fun, and not like he minded dancing that way with his date, not at all, but it had thrown him for a moment. A few minutes to get into it and the night started bleeding together, the couple slower songs a welcome oasis, and in retrospect he'd probably feel silly for expecting what he'd had, but maybe a part of him had thought prom was supposed to be more special somehow.

There was an inescapable sense that this, so far, had just been any other Aurora dance but dressed up a little. Eventually the building heat and constant drone meant a separation from the horde for a moment. A chance to take in a bit of air... to get a drink.

Funny, all that throwing his body around and rubbing up against people and being in such close physical contact with so many others in clothes he wasn't used to made his throat a little dry. Made him almost want to rip the jacket and dress shirt open so he could really breathe for a minute. That wouldn't be appropriate, though; he was a jock, not a Neanderthal.

That train of thought had led him here, to the punch bowl. Good stuff, actually, cool and refreshing after a night of fun. He took another long, deep sip, pacing to avoid brain freeze as his eyes scanned the crowd for anyone he knew - especially Amy with her green dress. He'd made sure she knew he wasn't just ditching, but what was wrong with keeping an eye on?

Character Photos
There's also like eight billion people who take art requests here.

V5 Sneak Preview #2
I think the question's been more "who is Abby Soto"

You Know That I Could Use Somebody
I'd have to ask Flare but I'm pretty sure he's only using Jack this round, and he handed Max off to me. :P

Few questions about extracaricular activities for future refernce
I think the football team's supposed to be pretty damn good, but I dunno any specifics!

As for multiple sports and stuff, most sports are seasonal. Let's say you wrestle, for example; wrestling is a winter sport, so for the rest of the school year you'd be in your post-season, which leaves you open to pick up another sport or a job or a club or whatever.

V5 Sneak Preview #2
Well we don't know for sure who is so he's kind of a placeholder name.

V5 Sneak Preview #2
Dec 20 2012, 01:19 PM
Cue Greynolds asking what the winner's going to do now that they've won V5.

Damn Greynolds is an ass... and you can't really give a snarky reply back.


v5 Winner: I'm going to f^%k your mother on the monorail.

Yes, you'd be killed, but it'd be the best "your mother" comeback ever.
That, or an awkward pause, then FALCON PAWNCH.

Realism and Detail
This is gonna end well...