tampered | Log; Ongoing; Event; Niko & Dean

Log; Ongoing; Event; Niko & Dean

When; Sometime Saturday night, Polychromatic time
Rating; PG13+ for violence and language
Characters; Niko

shutupsammy
Summary; A cursed battle. You don't mess with a man's little brother.
Log;

Dean stepped out nervously, wary of the crowd, because he hated being noticed and recognized this way. He was never popular in school and never a social butterfly in life. He didn't even like to be singled out at birthday parties, let alone surrounded by thousands of people staring at him. The situation didn't favor Dean to begin with, but these bastard deities or whatever they were were holding his Sammy hostage, and there was no way in hell he was gonna lose, if that was the case.

So he reached under his pant leg and pulled out a smallish bowie knife, holding it out in his right hand and staring around for whatever poor, doomed bastard who's ass he was about to kick because he had the same dumb luck as Dean seemed to have today.

[ooc: Here we go. ♥ Niko and Dean, round one, fight. Their personalities haven't been changed by the city, but they've been cursed to believe they need to fight to win in order for their younger brothers (Cal and Sam, respectively) to be released to them. Fight to unconsciousness?]

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They had made it clear to Niko that if he failed to participate, Cal would die. There had been evidence of his brother's capture, shaky evidence, but enough that Niko wasn't willing to risk defiance. Not yet. He had only been ordered to fight, not to kill. It wasn't so different from what he did every day in New York, had done every day since Cal had stumbled out of Tumulus, shaken and half-mad from two years in the hands of the Auphe.

Niko emerged with his hands hanging relaxed and empty at his sides. He recognized at a glance that his opponent was most likely human. Good. That would make it easier to keep both of them alive.

He faltered, just a little bit, when he caught sight of the person he was supposed to take down. At first glance, Dean thought, piece of cake. Look at him, some blond pretty boy, right? But the guy carried himself like something he couldn't put his finger on but could recognize; like a hunter, maybe, and a good one. Relaxed. Sizing Dean up.

He shrugged his shoulders and held his hands out, trying to look equally nonthreatening, despite the heavy knife.

"Dude. I am so sorry, but I think I'm gonna have to kick your ass. See, they got my little brother tied up somewhere in this joint, and if I don't take you down in front of a literal crowd of thousands? They're gonna kill him. I ain't gonna let that happen."

There was no hesitation in Niko's step as they closed ground. The man he faced held the bowie knife as though he were familiar with its uses. How familiar remained to be seen. Niko had known more than a few creatures who looked only competent with a blade when in fact they were extraordinary. Still, he didn't draw a weapon, simply came to a halt three paces away, with his hands tucked in the pockets of his waist-length leather jacket.

"I'm afraid I should be the one apologizing. You see, they have my little brother confined as well, or so they claim. I'd like to have faith that he can extract himself from this mess, but having grown up with him, I know better than to leave the matter to chance."

Niko hoped he wouldn't have to shed blood to ensure that Cal's remained unspilt. His opponent seemed like a decent man.

Dean tilted his head to the side, keeping an eye on the other man's hands. He was starting to question it, whether or not this would be an easy win or he was in for a nasty kind of surprise, not that he wasn't used to surprise demonic strength or anything.

"Yeah, well. I don't really trust my pain in the ass to extract himself from this mess, so I'm gonna have to kick your ass now, no offense. You got a name to tell me before I do? Feels polite to ask."

It was almost amusing, the way the man's sentiments echoed his own. Niko thought they might get along under other circumstances. They might still get along, if his opponent wasn't the sort to hold a grudge over being roughed up.

"Niko Leandros," he introduced himself. "And you? Just in case I need gauge your level of head trauma later."

"Greek?" Dean said, with a curious, confused look on his face. It wasn't the weirdest name he'd heard here, but still, Greek and Latin, those were languages to watch out for. He dropped his stance a little, holding the knife out again, blade out to protect his face and torso as he tried to decide whether or not he should strike first. He would probably have to, based on this Niko guy's body language.

"My real one? Dean Winchester. Great to meet you, sorry about the whole fucked up blood sports situation thing."

"Romani, actually, by way of Greece." At least on one side of the family, but this wasn't the time for life stories. Niko raised an eyebrow at the introduction his opponent gave, noting the last name, though his reaction could just as easily be interpreted as a response to the apology. Was this man one of John Winchester's family? As comfortable as Dean was with that knife, Niko wouldn't be surprised.

"Let's get on with it. We don't want to bore the crowd."

Dean noticed the surprise, and considered the 'Romani' comment; more filed it away for later than considered, seeing the position he was in. No use for conjecture at the moment, especially in this place. For all he knew, this Niko guy could be some weirdo overpowered vampire waiting to catch Dean by surprise. He doubted it, though. Something about the way the guy talked about his brother. It reminded him too much of himself, it was almost uncomfortable.

"That's alright by me. Only one you should worry about not impressing here is me, brother."

He decided to make the first move, tired of waiting on the inevitable, with a quick slash forward and out, aimed at Niko's right shoulder.

Niko's right hand shot up, blocking the strike with the blade of a smaller knife he'd produced from his pocket. The weapon was slender and well-balanced, ideal for close combat and suitable as a throwing knife in a pinch. He twisted, aiming to knock the wind out of Dean with a strike from his empty left hand. Every question Niko had about Dean had been shoved to the back of his mind, superseded by the necessity of taking the man down without doing permanent damage.

Dean noticed the block, but not quick enough to change his plan of attack. What should have been a clean hit or miss turned into a strange, uncontrolled swipe which left his arm still out to the side and useless to either attack or defend again. He'd pretty much screwed himself from the start, and he swore viciously which Niko struck him, falling backward and rolling away in the dust to a crouching position.

The knife was lost before he even drew blood. Okay. That sucked, so Dean proceeded to show Niko just how big of a 'nervous talker' he was.

"Lemme guess, you know kung fu?"

"Among other things." Niko's blade flashed, catching the light, and then disappeared inside his pocket again. Another half-dozen weapons were concealed in his coat and beneath the clean lines of his blue jeans. He advanced on Dean with steady surety and toed the bowie knife just so, flipping it up into his hand. "They didn't leave me my katana, but as I don't intend to kill you, that hardly matters." He tossed the knife once and caught it by the blade. "Do you mind?" Not waiting for a reply, Niko threw the blade well out of range.

He simply stared at Niko tossing the knife where Dean would never have a chance to scramble for it, part of him wondering just what the hell he's gotten himself into. That part was drown out by the part that's telling him he needs to not lose, because they've got Sam somewhere, and that's why he's alive right now, to make sure Sammy doesn't kick the bucket and gets back home safe someday soon.

Shit.

Dean scrambled to his feet, wobbling a little from Niko's expert blow, a lot more refined than Dean's learned-through-brawling-in-vampire-bars sort of style. He couldn't let himself believe he was as screwed as he was, though. Dean grunted and wiped the saliva from his bottom lip before taking a closed-fisted swing at Niko's neck.

"I didn't intend to let you try, to begin with."

Time to dodge, Niko thought, but he didn't go sideways. He went down, dropping to sweep Dean's legs out from under him. Now he could clearly see the haphazard education in physical violence that had shaped the other man's form and tactics. Bar brawling was all well and good--Niko'd had to fight that way more than once himself--but having extensive, intimate knowledge of how the laws of physics affect the human body was something you didn't learn by throwing punches at the nearest face in the crowd.

"I am curious about something," Niko said, deciding that it wouldn't hurt to throw Dean off mentally as well as physically. "How good are you compared to your father?"

He went down again, a second time, and his shoulder was starting to hurt from it and his nerves and confidence were starting to shake from how clearly outclassed he was. This was different than fighting demons. Demons, they were just as rough and unfinished as he was in a fight. You could outwit them, so long as you avoided the fucking ridiculous killer strength. This fight was almost a joke, and true enough Dean's had his ass kicked by everything from little kids to buxom blondes, except this time Sam was being held at ransom somewhere and that was the furthest thing from funny.

He growled and stood again, staying further away this time and circling to the side, trying not to let the way he was nursing his right shoulder be too obvious.

"Yeah? Well I'm fucking curious about something, too. Just what do you think you know about my daddy?"

"That he's competent but unpolished. We sparred a few weeks back. Is salt really one of your first lines of defense?"

For Niko, the nonhumans he fought and killed ranged from barely conscious eating machines to malevolent immortal geniuses with plans for world domination. Outsmarting them demanded a sound grasp of strategy, and even then, he and Cal were often lucky to come away from a fight still breathing. The cold, surgical efficiency Niko used now was nothing compared to what he would have used against Hob or the Auphe or the Kin. Dean was being handled with kid gloves, not that Niko intended to tell him as much. He wanted the other man unsettled, more likely to make mistakes. They were putting on a decent show. If they were lucky, it might be enough for both of them and their brothers to walk away from this fight still alive as well.

"Only against ghosts," Dean muttered, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of a palm and glancing at the smear of bright read left there.

"Most of the time we use silver. Maybe it don't work where you come from, but it works for us."

Dean was starting to get desperate now; desperate was practically Dean's existence. This talking about his father was unsettling, both because he wanted to defend the man and because he didn't want to think about him, especially given the situation. He made a low lunge for Niko's waist, hoping to knock him over and into a good position for punching the snot out of him or pulling the swiss army knife in his back pocket.

[ooc: midterms all over now. sorry for mid-log disturbances!]

"Sloppy," Niko noted as he sidestepped the lunge and brought his knee up to drive the air out of Dean's lungs, hands ready to grab the man before he went down. It would be easier to render Dean unconscious without causing undue injury if Niko had a good hold on him. "What works where I come from is exactly what I'm doing now."

[OOC: No worries! Hope midterms went well.]

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Log; Ongoing; Event; Niko & Dean

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