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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 7, 2015 7:28:43 GMT
Fenris made mental note of the potential threats and made his way to the restroom when the dance was over, looking for an open stall.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 7, 2015 7:34:28 GMT
There are two well-dressed men, probably businessmen judging by their school rings, snorting cocaine at the sink and laughing. There is no way of knowing the club's policy on drugs, but considering the area's standards, they'll probably be escorted off the premises once the management notices. The stalls are surprisingly clean.
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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 7, 2015 7:57:22 GMT
He enters a stall and closes the door, opens the bag, and goes about his usual ritual of preparation. Body armor is thrown on, with ballistic plates placed on his kneecap and ankle, and forearm. His trusty sword is placed in a sheathe on his back slung over his right shoulder. The twin 1911s are placed in holsters on either thigh. The rest of the gear is attached to his belt. Last he put on his ballistic mask.
With that done, he pulls out three of the tear gas grenades. He pulls the pin on one and rolls it under the stall, happy his mask had a respirator. It was Deathstar that exited the stall, pulling the pins and tossing the other two in either direction as he stepped back into the main room. As the noxious gas spread, he drew his sword in one hand and one of the pistols with the other, making a straight line for the VIP area. He kept his head on a swivel for threats, intent on dealing with anyone that got in his way with merciless efficiency.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 7, 2015 8:29:11 GMT
He hears the yuppies take the first gasp and struggling for a full 30 seconds to realize it wasn't the drugs that was making them vomit. Only one of them catches a glimpse of Deathstar as he passes them, unsure of what the fuck his dealer sold him.
Some distracted, 20th century-conscious DJ has left Who Do You Love by Bo Diddley playing while a terrified dancer who is now screaming on stage. Most of the customers start yelling for various needs, with several screaming for someone else to call the cops. Interestingly, only one guest seems to be willing to tell 911 his current location, now dialing on his phone.
The inside bouncer sees Deathstar, draws his pistol from his coat, and takes a stance revealing his prior training.
Scooter Jacques III FIN: 6
Deathstar FIN: 22
He fires a shot, blowing out a picture on the wall behind Deathstar
*******
Natasha recognizes the screams and gunfire while Harlan Slade continues fondling her. Mr. Wick also shows concern before the bodybuilder guarding the door sticks his head. "Boss, I think we got company. There's smoke coming from the club area."
Slade stands, knocking down Kitty. "What the fuck?"
He turns his attention to his other guest, who simply shakes his head.
Slade looks down at Kitty, the childlike attitude evaporating as he tries to grab her by the hair. "Your boss set this up, bitch?!"
Harlan Slade MIG: 11
Natasha Abramova MIG: 7
Physically, the gangster overpowers her.
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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 7, 2015 8:47:25 GMT
Deathstar doesn't even flinch as the bullet whizzes by, lifting his pistol and squeezing the trigger as he leveled it at the bouncer's head sending out a 45 ACP round, continuing forward at the same unrelenting pace.
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Post by Natasha Abramova on May 7, 2015 8:59:20 GMT
When she'd noticed the screams, Natasha had thought to try and make herself scarce, pretending like she was one of those normal frightened humans. When Slade knocked her down however she felt anger. He grabbed her hair and she hissed, glaring up at him.
"Don't fucking touch me!"
She pictured his stomach, the food nestled within. She reached out with her mind and found the bacteria in the lining of his stomach. Natasha attempted to manipulate a change in the bacteria - to turn them into campylobacter, clostridium difficile, escherichia coli, salmonella and shigella - a concoction of diarrhea and stomach pain inducing bacteria.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 7, 2015 9:15:35 GMT
Deathstar FIN: 32
Scooter Jacques III FIN: 7
Scooter dies without seeing Paris.
The other professional bodyguards are leading their wards down alternate paths, away from the psycho. There are no obvious obstacles to Deathstar's goal.
******
Natasha Abramova SOU: 22
Slade screamed at her, "I bought a dozen of you bitches last week so you better think hard about..." He paused before he could finish his rant and began vomit over the Black Room's carpet. Mr. Wick neatly managed to avoid ruining his nice business shoes. Otherwise, he was silent and staring intently at Kitty. He did not seem that concerned about his possible demise.
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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 7, 2015 9:19:40 GMT
He holsters his pistol, before pulling a pin from a flashbang and tossing it into the VIP room, knowing its effect would be amplified in the dim lighting. He waited for it to go off before entering the room, with blade at the ready.
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Post by Natasha Abramova on May 7, 2015 9:22:33 GMT
Nathasha ignored the squirming and puking mess that was Harlan Slade and instead grabbed her coat and rose. She looked at Mr Wick, wondering why the man was so calm. Could it be that he was like her...?
"Who are you?" She asked, more curious than scared of what was about to come into the room.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 7, 2015 9:48:35 GMT
Deathstar FIN: 39
Kitty FIN: 21
Harlan Slade FIN: 4
Tim "Going to be a real player oneday, just you see" Carter FIN: 9
Wick FIN: N/A
Instead of answering, Wick merely covered his eyes. It was the last thing Kitty saw before the world vanished for a minute. She was aware of the two gangsters tripping in their own daze, but couldn't make out anything.
Deathstar finds all his quarry flopping on the floor except a thin man sitting nearby who would be more comfortable teaching Shakespeare classes. His hands grip his knees, trying to endure what his eardrums have just experienced, but his eyes are fixated on Deathstar. In a crisp English accent, "I could see you through the walls. I don't know you, but you're not MI6, and I don't believe you're Trustwell... what do you think you want here?"
His voice is very strained, being unable to hear his own voice. It only makes him look even more harmless.
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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 7, 2015 17:29:35 GMT
Deathstar makes his way to the incapacitated slade, coldly removing his pistol again almost lazily and finishing off the guards on the ground with surgical precision, their brains blowing out the back of their skulls; the men dying deaf, blind, and confused. He fixed the finely tuned weapon at the strange English man as he spoke, more curious than threatened as he revealed himself as Starborn.
"Independent contractor." he answered, voice echoing unnaturally from the ballistic mask.
Assuming the man made no move to stop him, Deathstar would make his way to Harlan and him finish off with his sword. He ignored the exotic dancer entirely.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 7, 2015 18:21:59 GMT
The Englishman made no move to defend his business partner. "Ahh... I'm sorry. I can't see your lips. Well..." He raised a hand and reality folded around him like a deflating balloon until he was gone. "Cheers..."
After the stranger had removed himself, Deathstar's only living companion was a blind and deaf Russian stripper.
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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 7, 2015 19:16:16 GMT
The job done, he threw down a smoke pellet, attempting to vanish into the night, leaving the club to its chaos.
(Ninjutsu)
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Post by The Astronomer on May 7, 2015 20:12:34 GMT
Later, when he is safely away, Fenris will curse himself for wasting a smoke pellet on a blind, deaf chick.
****
Kitty comes to her senses and realizes she is surrounded by a pair of dead bodies.
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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 7, 2015 20:51:20 GMT
The Deathstar regrets nothing!
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