amaroadriana

[amaroadriana]

"That's because I wasn't here." Her attention had been on the ring, but as Giordana approached he diverted it to the woman. "Lose any money yet?"

where: the underground when: pre-fights who: @amaroadriana

The woman offered Adriana a drink with a warm smile. "It's nice to see you out." It had been a while since they'd crossed paths, as she wasn’t one to pry into others’ affairs.

[amaroadriana]

"It's my dating history, though. Guess you've been away too long, hun." Since he’d only been back in London for six months, ever since she’d left Porto with her siblings, their only interactions were scattered - texts, parties, or whenever she flew back.

"You haven’t been keeping tabs? Henry didn’t say anything?" A laugh spilled from her lips. Of course not. Henry was the one person alive who would keep every single one of her secrets.

God, she missed him. Him and his self-righteous little stance of "No, I'm not coming. This is her thing," or whatever line he drew not to cross.

"But you're wrong." She tilted her head, with a sharp grin. "This isn’t some Netflix drama. This is an Oscar-winning performance." There had been enough twists, backslides, betrayals, and climaxes to earn the fucking award.

She gave Óscar a look - the kind that said you’ve been missing out. Because the years they’d spent apart gave him a dangerous luxury: the illusion that Adriana was still that model girl, the Vixen dancer. Still the version of her from the posters.

Maybe that was good. Maybe not. She didn’t particularly care.

"You’re going to have to up your game if you want to audition." She nudged him with her shoulder, playful but not soft. "Didn’t you hear my resumé? You’ve got to bring more than that." His smugness only made her laugh. She shook her head and locked her gaze on his.

"That barely qualifies as a bypass to a priority pass." A beat. "Didn’t you get paid for that? Didn’t you choose to be friends with Garcia?" She tsked, mock disappointment oozing from her smile. "Nu-uh. You’ll have to do better than that."

With that, her tone dropped to a dangerous one. "My waiting list isn’t filled with people who’ve got nothing. They’ve all got something - something great. So the real question is: what’s your thing? What makes you stand out?" A breath. A pause. A dare. "Not to anyone. To me."

Because Adriana didn’t do boring. Didn’t even see it.

"Not that you’re volunteering, of course." She gave him that look. The one that disarmed and dissected at the same time.

"Mierda..." the word came out in a hushed tone—as if words would throw himself into that list—from there mere mention of that parade of psychological disasters.

Óscar stared at her.

Not the amused kind of stare. Not even the flirty kind. The kind where your brain short-circuits and he was trying to decide if he should laugh, pour her a drink, or get her an exorcist.

His lips parted like he had something to say. Then closed again.

Goddamn.

"That’s not a dating history, Adri," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face, lightly massaging his bearded chin, "That’s a docuseries. Limited run. Netflix would eat that shit up.”

His mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile—and losing, "You know they make horror movies with fewer red flags, right?" He leaned in slightly, like he was trying to get a closer look at whatever unbothered demon energy she was running on tonight, "And you said you contained multitudes like that’s a brag."

There was a glint in his eyes now—dry, entertained, a little too focused. He wasn’t used to playing this particular game with her. But now that they’d landed here, it felt like something he could…maybe play with.

Óscar nudged her elbow lightly. "If you’d told me sooner you were actively auditioning for Chaos Incarnate, I’d’ve submitted my resume years ago."

Did she know how attractive she was when she said insane shit like that with a straight face?

Óscar didn't say it. Didn’t let it show. But it was there. In the way his lips hesitated a fraction too long before the grin returned.

"If your list truly has a waiting list…" he added, tilting his head, "I’d like to file a formal complaint," his brows lifted, mock-serious, "Between Henry's rants and keeping you and Lara out of trouble, I’ve put in my time. Earned priority status, at the very least," he rambled with a light chuckle.

He let his drink hover near his lips, then said, casually:

"Not that I’m volunteering or anything," Óscar paused, "But I don’t exactly scare easy either."

Then he took the sip, finally. Let the silence stretch with purpose. Not loaded. Not dangerous.

But definitely not neutral.

[amaroadriana]

"I mean I'm only reaching your face if I use a bat or something, I'm pretty sure you're safe there, Maksym." She smiled innocently, especially as she used his full name. "Are you sure though?" Adriana kept the innosence to her voice as she batted her eyelashes at him. "What if all that happened to me before was just the tip? I'm starting to think there's way more within me. You know how I love suprising people, right?"

"What about family wealth and all that? Ah, so self centred, hmm?" She joked, taking a sip of her drink. "Me? Worried? I'm way past that. Now I just worry who to bet on."

Full crazy was enough to have his brow rising to meet his"If you kill me, can you at least make sure you leave my face alone?" a hand running across the stubble of his jaw. "You wouldn't be able to stomach me if I was uglier than yesterday..." though, the corner of his lips threatened into a playful lilt. "I think you've been causing havoc whereever you go, for a long fuckin' time, Adri. But that's nothing new."

It'd been too long, but then again, it always was. Regardless of circumstance: being around Adriana always relaxed him. "Just my club..." though, the two hadn't discussed his new business ventures much in recent months. "I'm having two: don't worry."

[amaroadriana]

"You’ve known me for how many years, and you still haven’t figured it out? It’s not the lighting—I’m the one who shines." Adriana arched a brow at him, expectant. They’d partied enough, crossed paths at enough godforsaken afters to know better by now. And yet, it still baffled her how he and Henry were close. But she'd long since stopped questioning Henry’s taste in people.

“I’ve simply embraced my inner bloodthirsty tendencies. After dating a charming parade of men who were psychotic, narcissistic, sadistic, manipulative, pathologically dishonest, obsessive, power-drunk, egotistical, unstable, rage-prone, emotionally constipated, charismatic in that predatory kind of way, addicted to control, chronically unfaithful, passive-aggressive until they snapped, borderline cult-leaders in designer jackets, love-bombing freaks with God complexes and mommy issues...” She shrugged, almost cheerfully. “I figured maybe it wasn’t them. Maybe it’s just me. Why keep looking for all that in other people when I can contain multitudes, Óscar?”

Her smile was dazzling, the kind that made masses weak-kneed. The kind that meant danger.

Óscar always had a way of twisting every conversation into something… else. The vibes, his movements - he was a man forever mid-hunt. What kind of hunt? Well, that depended entirely on his mood. And right now? He looked like a cocktail of both predator and menace.

“Yeah, yeah - you’re the righteous killer; clean and precise. I know.” Adriana grinned, laughter slipping past her lips. “What is it with you men? The moment Lara throws an event, it turns into a dick-measuring contest about who’s the scariest. Masculinity at its finest.”

She tilted her head, the smirk blooming across her lips slow and deliberate. “My list has a waiting list. Are you sure you’re ready to be on it?”

A soft huff of amusement left Óscar's lips—more breath than sound. His eyes swept over her once, deliberate but unreadable, and the corner of his mouth ticked up like he wasn’t quite smiling… but wasn’t far from it either.

"Didn’t realize I’d stepped into your zone. Thought it was just another pit with better lighting."

His gaze lingered, sharper now. Not biting—never with her—but laced with the kind of honesty he rarely gave anyone.

"You always this bloodthirsty, or is it the company?"

Then, the brow arched again, slow and dry at her last words.

"Am I offering?" he echoed intrigued and with a small semblance of a laugh. There was something quieter in it. Measured. Dangerous in the way a still lake might be—masking depth, weight, the pull beneath the surface. He stepped in just enough that she could hear him over the din of the crowd, his voice pitched lower with a rasp.

"I don’t break things easy, Adri. I make sure they remember it when I do."

And then—just for her, just to see what she’d do with it—he let the silence settle, eyes locked on hers, before finally adding:

"But if it’s your list we’re talking about… might be worth getting on," he winked o move back into the familiar territory of teasing with her to show that's how it was meant on his part the whole time.

[amaroadriana]

The Rutherfords.

[amaroadriana]

Adriana swung her head, so the list of the fighters was in her vision. "Hmm." Her lips formed into a pout, as if assessing every name in a mocking thought. "Can't say I do." Looking back at Lisette, the woman smiled. "Guess I finally embraced just being a bitch."

From all the information Adriana had gathered, she was prettu sure that this one had a one night stand with the French guy whose phone she had bugged some years ago. Ah, her good old Vixen days. "You should try it, it's a new trend in London."

Lisette smirked before replying casually, "Anyone who says they don't hate at least one name on that list is a liar," taking a sip from her glass, she adds, "or a nïeve fool. Regardless, both options are dangerous in this city."

Talk of blood and guts made the older woman question if the woman was a Rutherford, but then she remembered who Adriana was married to, and the puzzle pieces clicked. "Yes, well, I suppose the blood helps to hold braids together,"

[amaroadriana]

At first, she thought the evening was going to be full of joy. The kind where she revels in the whole blood gushing, sweaty men fighting thing. Though so far - Adriana had just sipped on her drinks, waiting for something more exciting to happen. Though Tolya's fight was closer to what she had imagined.

Okay, that one did get her blood rushing for a moment there.

Other than that - she spent most of her time catching up with people she had not seen for a good few months. A networking event.

"Oscar, darling." Her smile was wide as she noticed who was in front of her. "Finally decided to step into my zone?" She had noted him looking at her before approaching. Adriana had always been vigilant to the attention she got. "Depends what kind of list you're talking about. If to sleep with - anyone who has a pretty face and a really fucking good body. If to see in the ring? Couldn't fucking care less." Mostly, everyone knew about her failed engagement with Aviv.

That was the first, and last time she was ever going to propose to someone. "Are you offering?" To break things, that was.

Ojalá

FOR: @amaroadriana EVENT: Fight Club 2025 WHERE: The Underground | During Fights

Óscar leaned against a wall at the far side of the ring, muffling out the noise bleeding from the crowd as best as he could as he observed each fighter's strengths and weaknesses. Fights came and went like the tide—quick, dirty, some more bark than bite—but his focus wasn’t on the bodies flying or the blood soaking into the mats.

Not really. It was on the flash of blue moving through the crowd like they owned it—or maybe like she could, if she ever cared to try. Adriana Amaro.

He hadn’t seen her in, who knew how long, since entering London. Too long, in his opinion. Óscar exhaled through his nose, rolling his jaw as he watched her weave toward the edge of the ring, eyes cast somewhere else—until they weren’t.

Until they found his.

The bodyguard lifted one brow, slow and deliberate, before speaking like he hadn’t been watching her for the last ten seconds. Óscar moved through the crowd with the same calm presence he carried everywhere, shoulder brushing the occasional stranger, but no one dared try to stop him. He stopped beside her without a word at first, just let the roar of the crowd and the rhythmic pulse of the fight in the cage fill the silence between them. Then, low—almost casual:

"Tell me, Adri, who’s on your list tonight? Or are you just waiting to see which one of us breaks something first?"

[amaroadriana]

"Maybe you just weren't paying attention before." Adriana tilted her head to the side. "Got someone you like in there? Or hate? Looking forward to see some blood gushing on the floor? Or are you hoping to tend to someone's wounds?" Though her tone was melancholic, the sarcasm was evident. "Mmm... I tend to leave that stuff to her. We usually do sister bonding at the end. You know - blood bathing, sacrificing the innocent, painting our bodies in winners' blood. That sort of thing - of while obviously braiding each other's hair."

"Paying attention to the fights- yes," Lisette says honestly, "I usually drink and ignore what is happening in the ring. However, this year has some interesting match-ups," Sipping from her flute, the older woman asks, "Do you help match people with her? Sort of a 'twisted sister bonding time' for you two?"

[amaroadriana]

"You never know. I might just have finally gone full crazy like everyone expected. Where do you think I've been all this time?" She smirked. Adriana had been busy, of course. But she managed to find time to do some fun stuff, like to see Henry in Porto or travel to some beaches to get a tan and so on. Though not a lot of people knew exactly what she had been doing.

"The ones who have something to leave have a will. I guess you don't then." She clinked her glass against his. "Should you really be drinking?"

"Death by you? I'll take it." Cleaner than the rest. It's said in jest, lips upturning into a wayward smirk. "A will?" he counters, brows shooting up as he turns his head to look Adriana straight in the eye. "You met the people we know? You think they care about a fuckin' will?" a snort of laughter breaks loose, as he tips his drink towards her. "Think we need a few more of these..."

[amaroadriana]

"That's how you die." Adri just rolled her eyes at the man. "Leave a will already? There's no point on betting then."

FOR: @mobscene-starters EVENT: Fight Club 2025 WHERE: The Underground. Pre-fights.

"If I die," which...was possible. "Make sure Vika gets everything, keep an eye on Isla and for the love of god -- someone check on Aviv every now and then." he said with a dramatic sigh, ankle hooking over his knee. "Any tips, bud?"

[amaroadriana]

"First time?" Adriana archer her brow as the Frenchie seemed to really not know her sister.

@mobscene-starters When: Fight Club- Post Rossi v. Erdoğan Fight

"If all the female matchups go this way, Lara will never allow the women to fight again." Lisette sips from her sparkling flute, "and I wouldn't even blame her,"

[amaroadriana]

"Why don't you just let me set them all on fire?" She asked her sister, lighting up a cigarette of her own.

Adriana had been away for months, needing the time away just to process what had happened. Her conclusion? Fuck everything and fuck everyone. Her time away helped her refocus and solidify the idea that most people were nothing but speckles of dust. "I would have loved if you allowed weapons this time. Maybe not guns but more like 'choose your warrior' type thing. But then again... They do get more creative that way." A smile crossed her lips as she leaned her head back on the chair. "I hope this evening becomes all I hope for."

@mobscene-starters Event: Fight Club 2025 - Pre Fights.

To say Lara Rutherford was in her element was an understatement.

Whilst Fight Club had functioned as normal in her absence, there hadn't been a cross-faction meet-up since she'd taken her step back. Running the event without Amir had proven a concept she wasn't willing to stomach, and even now, the void his murder had opened haunted the event he had helped establish back in Porto all those years ago. But it was getting easier. And as she slumped back into her seat on the main floor—a spot she wouldn't remain in long—she felt herself actually relax. Maybe the thought of maimed Russians in the near future was elevating her mood.

"I'll cover everyone's tabs if Konstantin murders the Turk," she began, punctuating her almost wistful tone with a drag on her cigarette. "A girl can dream."

[amaroadriana]

Fight Club 2025 - Adriana Amaro

Date: Friday April 4, 2025

[amaroadriana]

[amaroadriana]

OH, he was still actually talking.

Did Kerem even know what he was getting into? This whole thing of him switching and then going to the people who actually sold organs on the black market? How delusional one had to be?

Just a few years ago, one of the Russian's drained Edward's girlfriend and painted something on doors in her blood. And yet in his eyes she was the evil thing that haunted him?

Wow, maybe brains and critical thinking weren't the only thing missing on his resume.

"I don't remember you needing to work with me at all." Adriana shook her head. "Seriously, you're really not important. I don't know why you're trying to make yourself out to be this big thing."

"Yeah, we'll see...because if I'm going to hell, you sure as fuck will be there." did she think she was going to heaven? Aw, cute. It was that fake sweetness that irked him so, that overly perfected privileged party girl syndrome that had leaked into her brain and clouded her sense-of-fucking judgement. Forever in their constant states of secondary school comebacks, and 'daddy will bail me out'. "Do you ever tire of being you, because fuck me, you're a lotta' work."

[amaroadriana]

"You shouldn't have come here. I don't care what's your reason, or excuse is . You shouldn't have fucking come here." Adriana placed her empty glass on the bar and turned to the woman. "If you know, then you know this is not the place for you. You've chosen whatever and... You have no right to be here. You have no right to make my brother worry about you or whatever you might see. These are his friends here and I haven't seen you with a single one of yours. I'm sorry, but I think you should leave."

FOR: @mobscene-starters EVENT: The Camp Out, 24' WHERE: The Main Bar.

If Felicity hadn't forced her hand, Amélie wouldn't be here.

And the realisation of her dire situation had begun to set in. Felicity's friendship with Andrew started raising questions after Gideon's revelation, and now she realised just how corrupt everything she was involved in was. And that letter, the one tucked away in a box at home: stating certain stories would be better portrayed in a favouring light of the Rutherford's as she began her takedown of the French. It was all in effect. The first domino had fallen — and while she wished to be anywhere else in the world.

Nothing had prepared her for those shirts.

It hadn't taken her long to trudge over to the bar and order the first thing she saw: very out of character for a woman who found herself giddy after just two wines. Alone was one way to put it: and without her phone, she wanted to riot.

A notebook clutched in her hand, a way to make notes for the story she had to write on the weekend. The real reason she was here: because none of them would've invited her now she was no longer his. "A shot, as well, please."

[amaroadriana]

"Just you wait, darling." Adriana smiled sweetly. "We'll see where your soul ends up."

"Are you actually fu..." he trailed off, catching his tongue. While Kerem had grown more ballsy as of late, there were certain lines he decided to keep on the right side of. That being someone like Adriana Amaro. "I forgot, you people don't have souls -- I should've expected nothing less."