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 Game time!

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Angelica Vaughn

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Posts : 25
Join date : 2017-04-16
Age : 27
Location : Belgium

PostSubject: Game time!   Fri May 26, 2017 11:23 pm

March 24th
Stockholm, Sweden

There were a lot of things the English were good at… but the one thing they truly excelled at was figuring out how to get drunk quickly, easily and cheaply. Especially when soccer, or football as they called it, was involved. And with a Europa League Final looming, the packed streets of Solna was exhibiting some magnificent displays of creativity. With alcohol forbidden inside the stadium for a match of this magnitude, the Man United supporters were having pre-match drinking sessions of epic proportions. Beer and liquor were close at hand wherever you looked, and as they marched through the streets on their way to the Friends Arena. Among the red-jerseyed Mancunians walked a young blonde girl. After three pints of lager and as many shots of tequila, she was already pretty, pretty, pretty inebriated! She was giggly and excited, and had laughing fits for no real reason whatsoever. Yes, we’re talking about Angelica Vaughn who felt like a fish in the ocean whilst walking among the masses of Red Devils fans.

Following her closely, was Michael Kelly, whose face had barely left his palm. He was, for lack of a better or more suitable word, her babysit. And he was quite possibly the only reason she wasn’t already face-down in a ditch somewhere.

Angelica: Red Army! Red Army! Red Army!

She was chanting along with the rest of the noise-makers, and took a small flask from the breast pocket of her jacket. She unscrewed the top, looking to take another swig. Her fingers were grasped by those of Michael however, who forced them back down again.

Michael Kelly: I think you’ve had quite enough for now, Ange. The match hasn’t even started yet and you’re already drunk.

Angelica: I’m not drunk! I’m merely intoxic!

Michael Kelly: God help me. It’s called ‘intoxicated’, and they’re synonyms.

Angelica: Words are weird. If I can’t have my flask back, can you at least give me a piggyback ride?

Michael Kelly: Out of the question, even if my knee was at 100% capacity. You’re an adult, act like it. Vraiment, elle est comme une bambine!

He muttered the last sentence in French under his breath, but Angelica playfully hit him in the shoulder.

Angelica: Hey! I understand French, you know! I know French words. I have all of the French words, I have the best French words!

Angelica’s ‘best words’ were actually becoming more and more slurred as they trudged along, with any further attempts at Angelica catching a piggyback ride on MK’s back proving utterly futile. When they reached the Friendship Arena and finally entered the stadium, Angelica’s heart started pounding faster and faster. She was nervous as hell. Her favorite team was going to play their biggest match of the year, and as the pitch opened up before her after making her way through the catacombs and hallways, the cheers of the entire crowd came over her like an avalanche. Tears welled up in her eyes. It all seemed to happen in a bit of a haze. Maybe Michael Kelly was right and she did have too much to drink, but she wasn’t too worried about it. She was happy and content just to be here.

The anthem played. The whistle blew. The game was on.

---
105 minutes later…

They did it! They were the champions! It wasn’t a great game, but the end result was all that mattered. Angie was frantically jumping up and down as the arena exploded with celebrations, her mind still clouded with the effect of alcohol. She had managed a cheeky sip every time MK wasn’t looking, and that was quite often. The game obviously bored him, but Angelica still loved him to bits. He was cranky and sometimes too serious for his own good, but he obviously cared about her… and that, to Angelica, was more than enough. Now though, she seemed to be properly getting on his nerves as she placed her hands on his shoulders and repeatedly used them as a launching pad to propel herself into the air. This, after 90 minutes of spouting nonsense and profanity.

Michael Kelly: Stop it, Ange!

Angelica: But I’m so happy! They won!

Michael Kelly: Barely anything happened during this so-called match, I don’t see how anyone can get excited about this!

Angelica: Oh hush, you big grumpy.

She giggled as she said it, but all MK did was roll his eyes. A large portion of fans were starting to push forward to get as close to the pitch as they could. Angelica was right in the center of it, and motioned at Michael to follow her.

Angelica: Let’s go, Emkay! Can’t miss this!

Michael Kelly: Ange, wait up, I…

But she didn’t wait. She got swallowed by the masses in an instant. Michael muttered some French curse words under his breath and started to move through the masses, using his elbows as best he could to make some progress. But the mass of people got thicker and thicker as they prepared to see the championship celebration, and MK had no idea where exactly Angelica had disappeared to. He whipped out his phone and called her number, but it went straight to voice mail.

Michael Kelly: This is… a lot more than I signed up for.

---
40 minutes later…


They had left the arena. Festivities had concluded and Angelica was packed inside a rowdy bunch of ManU supporters who were obviously up to no good. She had lost all ability to think straight, and had barely even noticed that she’d lost Michael Kelly. Alcohol did that to you.
A well-set fellow supporter bumped her with his elbow. She nearly toppled over. Half a bottle of tequila and a few pints weren’t great for balance, especially for someone as skinny as dear Angie.

Fan: Oi, girl, we’re about to go find some o’them Dutch knobheads and beat their arses up! Wanna come? It’ll be fun.

Angelica had lost all sense of morality or common sense. A sober Angelica would’ve told him to go be a creep somewhere else, while a chaperoned Angelica would’ve had no choice but to decline. But we were looking at drunk, irrational Angelica, a version which differed a lot from the two others. So her response was obvious.

Angelica: OHMYGOSH yes! Let’s go beat up all the Dutch pricks!

And so she followed the fans, who more closely resembled a gang of thugs. But Angelica didn’t realize this, and as she was merrily skipping along with a pack of hooligans, she was completely oblivious to the fact they were laughing at her. A lone, drunk girl, not unattractive, seemed like an easy prey for the 10 men she was with. Her saving grace was that they wanted to fight before they got to fuck, and so they gladly kept her alongside them while they went looking for a group of Ajax ‘supporters’. Angelica was simply zombie-ing along. Her vision was all kinds of weird. Everything that was directly in front of her was ultra-focused while everything in her peripheral vision was blurry and spinning. She started to feel like she wanted to puke, but the feeling of nausea soon made way for exhilaration.

Ajax Fans: Daar zijn ze! / *There they are!*

All the people around her started running towards the guys in the other jerseys. Before Angelica knew it, she was front, line and center in the middle of a street brawl, with punches flying, knees connecting with guts and heads butting. Adrenaline started pumping throughout Angie’s body. Even intoxicated, she started to realize that she was in a proper fight. There were no rules, no referees, and no restrictions. There wasn’t an audience, fancy costumes or flashy entrances. No mind games or announce team. This was just human versus human. Bone versus bone. Skin on skin.  The Ajax hooligans seemed to punch just as hard as the Mancunians did, and Angelica soon noticed that first blood had already been drawn. Strangely, the Ajax fans avoided her. Maybe because she was just standing in the middle of the pack grinning like an idiot, or maybe because even they didn’t like beating down what they believed to be helpless blonde 18-year-olds.

Angelica suddenly felt something surge through her. Maybe it was the adrenalin, but… she wanted to fight! Needed to fight! She felt like she was already in her upcoming match. With MK and Wülf beside her, facing the trio of Sapphire, Dougie and Pierce. She could see their faces in her daydream, replacing the heads of the Ajax fans who were clobbering away at their foes. She saw Pierce’s head, stuck on the body of a bulky bodybuilder whose red and white shirt tightly clung to his chest. She saw Dougie’s head on the body of a very hairy and sweaty Dutchman with a strongman frame. She saw Sapphire’s head on the body of a lanky 7’ Dutch giant.
Her muscle memory kicked in. She’d been training so hard under the tutelage of Ashley Williams that it was starting to become second nature already. She took aim at the guy whose face had taken the shape of Adrien Pierce’s. Her foot left the ground, her leg swung. Her shoe connected with the guy’s gut.

The fight came to a grinding halt. As she hit him, the man collapsed like a sack of spuds. Blood sprayed from his mouth and half of it landed on Angie’s jersey. The other fighters stopped and turned to look at what Angie had done with just one kick, before slowly backing away from her.

Angelica looked down at the body, and exhilaration began to make way for dread. What had she done? Was he going to be alright? She didn’t understand it… She had hit others much harder than this, and they acted like they barely even felt it! Was that what it meant to be a wrestler? Were they just… stronger than normal humans? With what little trining Angie had had, she was already capable of destroying a much stronger, bigger guy with a single kick. Angelica felt…
…powerful? As she looked at the man (luckily he was still breathing), she felt… She wasn’t quite sure what it was. Guilt? Remorse? Pride? Was this what Lucilla felt like? She wasn’t sure if she liked it.

She noticed she’d started trembling. She was in shock, that much was obvious. She didn’t know what to do. She just stayed frozen on the spot. Only when the deafening blare and blinding lights of blue sirens arrived did she move, as she felt her hands being cuffed.

---

Two hours later…


Angelica was glad that the cells were separated by gender. She felt like shit. All the guys had been put together in a large cell next to her, constantly whistling and catcalling her. Angie was in a slightly smaller cell, all by herself. She tried to ignore them, but it was getting increasingly hard to do so. The mother of all hangovers was starting to set in, and she knew all too well that in about ten minutes or so, her head would be pounding. Her eyes were closed and she tried to cover hear ears to keep the noise to a minimum, but the rattling of a set of keys and the clanging of metal bars eventually made her open her eyes again. A Swedish policeman stood in the doorway, and pointed at Angelica.

Police: You there, girl. Bail’s been posted. You have friends in high places… Or at least your friend here does…

As the policeman led Angelica to the entrance of the station, her heart almost skipped a beat. She started running and with her arms spread wide, landed right into his.

Angelica: Emkay! I’m so glad you’re here!

Michael Kelly returned the hug for a second, before grabbing her by the temples and forcing her to look into his eyes.

Michael Kelly: Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you!

Angelica: I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have run off like that.

Michael Kelly: What you did was immature and irresponsible! This is not okay, Ange!

Angelica seemed genuinely distraught and disappointed in herself. The tears welling up in her eyes made Michael wipe them away with his thumb, before cradling the back of her head and pressing her face into his chest.

Michael Kelly: But I’m glad you’re okay, kid. I’m just… glad you’re okay.

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