This whole thing was pretty unbelievable. Peter didn't even actually want to be here... The young man wanted to leave as soon as he'd been disqualified. However, the young man knew it would have been better of him to stay around. It was more sportsman-like. It was more honorable. The young man didn't want to be dishonorable. That was for damn sure. So, he'd decided to stick around for the final fight. He owed everyone that much. Peter had been beaten fair and square. He wasn't about puss out and run away from the entire Fight Club just because he'd had his ass handed to him. Sure, Peter had really been kicked around. His body had been battered and tattered. He was bruised and bloody. The young man's primal instincts told him to get the fuck out of Dodge while he still had the chance. Yet, that wasn't the honorable thing to do. Peter had a reputation to uphold. The young man wasn't about to turn into a pussy.

So, Peter had sent his clone to the edge of the pit to watch the final fight unfold. Sure, Peter was honorable... But he wasn't fucking stupid. The young man wasn't about to go stand next to the fight club pit, where six dangerous combatants were being held for a free for all. Peter wasn't an idiot and he wasn't going to be stupid about it all.. However, one thing had led to another, and one of the judges felt that it was a good idea to push the clone into the pit... Well... Peter wasn't going to let his own flesh and blood be in there by himself. Peter may have come off as an asshole... But he wasn't unreasonable and he wasn't a douche bag. He wasn't going to let his clone hang out there to dry.

Peter had jumped into the fray of battle and everything had just escalated from there. Guns were being fired and people were being shot. The young man sent one of his clones off carrying Evie, the blonde woman who'd been shot. Peter and his other remaining clone grabbed assorted weapons and followed the group up the stairs out of the pit. They were going to fight there way out. Peter held a sword in one hand while the other clone held a club-like device. The two Peter's began to work in tandem, clubbing and slashing at enemies that stood in their path. No, it didn't look professional. Not by a long shot. Peter didn't know how to wield either of these weapons accurately, but the young man was trying his best. Peter and his clone swung and slashed at guards ahead of them as they began to clear a path towards the doors.

I'm trouble
I'm trouble, yeah

There was no technique or logic to Neil's fighting. Mostly she stomped on a lot of feet and left a lot of shivering, hypothermic people in her wake. If was a chaotic clusterfuck, shouting, bullets, blades, and bodies flying left, right, and center. If it wasn't for her ability... well, Neil wasn't kidding herself. She'd be dead several times over.

Regardless of the danger, there was a part of Neil that was having the time of her life. Well, the whole getting shot at thing wasn't so fun, but the total shitstorm of chaos was right up Neil's alley. She thrived in upheaval and the smirk on her face was a fair warning to the assholes thinking they could take the small icewoman down. Neil didn't presume for one second to know what the hell was going on, and the fiesty cryo had an ear out for Eden's commands. The redhead was handling herself and everyone else just fine and Neil couldn't help but be in awe of it. Eden was a fucking ninja and Neil... she fought more like some sort of cornered animal. Her actions were dictated by instinct, fight or flight, (granted Neil's 'flight' instinct was more or less non-existant), and since Eden seemed to have the whole General Badass thing down Neil was only too happy to take orders. Especially when Eden ordered them all to get out. That was an order that Neil could get behind.

“Sounds good, Red.” Neil wasn't that far off and she saluted sharply, sticking her foot into some goon's gut and using him to vault her way toward one of the doors. Peter... and Peter... and Ok, THE PETERS, were already starting to hack and bludgeon their ways toward the set of doubledoors set in the far wall. Neil could definitely help out there. If there was one thing she was good at it was breaking stuff, doors included. In that split second the petite brunette caught a hit from a baton swing. The metal rod bit into her frozen shoulder and sent chunks of ice scattering across the floor. Neil let out a pained yelp, dropping to a knee. “You know, now you're just pissing me off.” Before she'd even finished speaking, the wound had filled in with fresh ice, cleaner, less scuffed and whole. That was going to hurt like hell later but for now the pain was muted, the injury healed, and her assailant was shivering and wailing, frostbite greedily blackening his skin. Neil forced herself to rein in the Cold that was making a snack out of the man that had dared to land a hit on her. “Sorry about that, dude. Live and learn.”

Neil shrugged and dashed to help the Peters get to the doors. The ground iced ahead of her with a brilliant grin, Neil ducked some thug swinging his hamhock of a fist at her powersliding on her knees under most of the fray, not stopping until her frozen body slammed into the door. Pushing her palms against the heavy metal, Neil pumped her Cold into the door, watching with satisfaction as it frosted, iced, and started to crumble under her attention. She threw a wink back at one of the Peters, her frozen features proud. “And that is how you do it, sweets.” With a final push, the doubledoors collapsed and for a moment, Neil just stared. The doors had been keeping the specators and the pit fighters in... Neil hadn't considered who those doors might have been keeping out. Still on her knees, the wicked little winter queen was staring up at a fresh wave of guards, guns drawn, and cocked... and aimed. Playtime was over. There was no way she could take out that many guns at once. She didn't know how many bullets, if any, her iceform could take and really, Neil didn't want to find out. “Uh... guys?” Neil's voice rose a few octives, her icy gray eyes massive in her face.

“Help?”

Peter still could hardly believe the way everything had turned out. Who would've expected this? Yes, Peter had joined an underground fight club. And yes... It was fun as all hell... But no, Peter had not by any means expected this type of pain... And no, Peter hadn't expected things to escalate this quickly. The young man's clone had been shoved into the ring and so Peter had suddenly entered the fight. The young replicator had only been fighting within fighting arena for a few moments. Then, everything erupted. Then, everything went insane. Everything seemed to go crazy. Peter could hardly believe his eyes. People were being shot, and the contestants themselves were being turned on by the people whom Peter assumed were running the fight club. Peter wasn't sure why it was happening... But the young man did know that his life was now in danger. Everything seemed to have been fine before. Even though he was in a fighting situation, Peter's life hadn't been in danger. Now that guns and the equivalent of soldiers had been brought into the fray, Peter was concerned. Now, things could take a turn for the worse. Even though things had been all fun and games before... Everything had just become very, very real.

As Peter cleared the way to the doors leading out of the fighter's arena, the young man eyed the doors precariously. Before he knew it, the ice-woman had appeared next to him. Immediately, Peter and his clone began to feel her presence and the cold that emanated from her. The young man eyed her warily for a moment, and waited to see what she would do. Before Peter could even say anything, the young woman had frozen the doors before them, causing them to crumble into pieces of icy rubble within a matter of moments. "Well... Now that's just cheating..." Though Peter was smiling slightly, his smirk disappeared as he eyed the guards ahead of him. Peter was about to do something as a resounding gun shot rang out from behind them. Within moments all the people inside the arena began to charge forth and more or less trampled the guards. Peter went with the flow and followed the chaos. Right now, the young man was just moving with the mob, trying to survive. As the group charged forth through the hallways Peter and his clone moved swiftly about. As the people regrouped, Peter eyed the fiery red head as she handed the original Peter a small side-arm. Peter smirked and held the pistol firmly in his hands, the cool metal of the gun brushing against his skin. Peter and his clone stood firmly with the other fighters as they waited for the ice-woman to do her thing. Peter didn't care about what he'd need to do or who he needed to kill. Peter just wanted to survive.