17398/Metal Mayhem, Literally

Metal Mayhem, Literally
Date of Scene:	11 March 2024
Location:	Metal Mayhem
Synopsis:	Rock and Trolls collide into chaotic mayhem at the appropriately named, Metal Mayhem bar. But the day is saved by a few of the Xer crew, a fallen angel, a vampire and a slacker potion slinger. Only in NY.
Cast of Characters:	Corben Kelly, April O'Neil, Khanitiel, Negasonic, Henry McCoy, Blake Riviere

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Corben Kelly has posed:
Metalic Mayhem has touted themselves as the new go to spot to hear some local talent. Opening weekend has seen them packed with a line out the doors, if only because it's new and maybe exciting. Sunday's a a little less on the 'line out the door' but there's still a small wait to get inside.

Inside? The place is jammin'. ... or banging. The music is loud, the beat's on point and some of the singers sound like dying frogs, or demons, or dying frog demons. Death Omen, Corben's band, has just finished their set for the night and he's elbowed his way up to the bar to flag someone down for a drink. It's way too loud in the place for his cochlear processors to not sound like multiple nails down a chalkboard, so he's rockin' it without ears on this evening - yes people, a deaf drummer.

April O'Neil has posed:
April O'Neil is more than just a local News Reporter at Channel Six. She's also a podcaster, and journalist on her own website. One small feature of her website features articles about local bands, music groups, and live performers. This is the motivation for the young woman to be here tonight.

She's just another face in the crowd. With a pair of denim jeans, heeled boots, a black tanktop on underneath a grey hoodie and her yellow leather jacket, April is approaching the bar in the moment, smiling to the bartender and leaning over the bar to place an order over the loud ambience of the bar.

Being that she's easy on the eyes, to most, she gets her drink brought right over to her in short-order, no less!

Khanitiel has posed:
    You ever hear the one about the half-fallen angel and the bar? No? Neither has anyone else. It's being written right now.

    Khanitiel is perhaps an odd addition to a club like this, but from her perspective, this is an odd place for anyone to come. She has been paying little attention to others around her, but one man elbows his way into the seat next to her and looks over her in a manner that would suggest his eventual destination will not involve pearly gates.

    "Crazy ink, chica," he comments to her, raising a hand to brush his fingers across her exposed shoulder blades. The action draws a flat stare, but nothing more. Yet.

    "Aww c'mon, babe, just trying to be friendly!" he exclaims, sensing perhaps that his attention is not appreciated. "How about I get you a drink?"

Negasonic has posed:
Negasonic Teenage Warhead, otherwise known as Ellie Phimister (see why she goes by Negasonic?) was the sort of young woman who loved vibes like this.

She had come early enough, mostly because she had nothing else to do, and was dressed for the evening. Hair a little long on top, spiked, short on the sides, black lipstick with eyeliner, spikes in her ears and lip ring in, tan leather jacket on with assorted patches, with black spaghetti strap top with the spaghetti strap being a bunch of criss-crossing straps, tan jeans with artful rips, fingerless gloves, and big black boots with big heels and lots of buckles.

And frankly, she loved the vibe. The shittier the bands the better. It was the mood she was going after. And no one had carded her yet. As opposed to April, she was not easy on the eyes, but the reporter and the drummer get a glance.

    It was the latter that gets Ellie's attention the most, and she brings up her hand to give a thumbsup and nod of approval. Not that she knew he was deaf, but... the bar was loud already.

Henry McCoy has posed:
Henry McCoy arrived in a suit, collar open. Round spectacles atop his leonine nose. With one hand in his pocket he waited in the crowd comfortably, chatting up the occasionally interested party graciously. Yellow eyes shined with the occasion of club lights hitting them just so.

It would turn out he was friends with either someone on the crew, or someone in the shows parents, and it was an excuse to get out. Breathe a little. Hear something loud and lose yourself for a little while.

Blake Riviere has posed:
One of the best things about immortality was getting to see what culture did next. Sometimes it was wonderous, sometimes it was painful...but it was never boring.

Wrapped in her little black dress, her hair tied by her ribbons and her deep red leggings Blake would probably look out of place in most places...but here the vampiress seemed to be passing well enough to make her way through.

A night out, perhaps she was merely here for a 'dinner companion' for the evening or maybe she truly appreciated the music, but either way Blake made her way towards the bar with all the confidence of some strutting feline, lounging for the brief window of people watching before her drink was served.

Corben Kelly has posed:
It just so happens that April winds up next to Corben. She's easy on the eyes enough to have him looking up and down anyway. Or maybe he's just irate that he was here first and served last? Nah - that's not it. He gets his own drink soon enough, shot of Tequila with a beer chaser.

He's about to down the first when Nagasonic catches his eye. April may be eye candy, but Ellie looks like a kindred soul. The thumbs up is met with him lifting his shot glass in a toast gesture and a wink. He sets the shot glass down and yells, "What are you drinking?" Why'd he set the drink down? Because he's signing the words as well. His accent, however, isn't what one might call 'deaf'. He doesn't speak like a deaf person that learned to speak late in life. He actually sounds French.

Too bad he never gets the chance to hear her reply. Even over the loud atmosphere of the bar, the BOOMCRASH from the direction of the stage. What is even less difficult to notice is the very large, club brandishing, very angry looking troll that seems to have appeared out of nowhere - or maybe it's that little glowing spot in the air behind it? The monstrosity is flanked on either side by two redcaps and is being ridden by three quicklings.

April O'Neil has posed:
With her drink in hand, a bubbly glass of 'Blue Moon' with a little orange slice, april gives it a testing sip, before she sets it down on the bar in front of her. She catches the look from Corben, which earns him a small smirk in return, before she notes him looking away toward the young punk girl. This is of no issue to the Reporter, as she's just here to soak in the ambience.

She even grabs up her beer, and steps off to the side, to get her back up against a wooden support pillar not far from the bar. It's here that April looks over to note Henry's arrival, showing him a friendly smile before her eyes dart around the bar's interior. It's only a second later that the sudden burst of chaos breaks out, like a very ugly Kool-Aid man breaking through the far wall, April's nerves cause her to jump! She even spills a bit of beer down her hand and up her jacket sleeve.

Ignoring that, however, the Reporter has her phone whipped out like a quickdraw gunslinger, and is instantly recording video of whatever the hell is happening in here tonight!

Negasonic has posed:
It's hard to miss Hank. And if there's anyplace that a big blue mutant would be welcome, it'd be in a place like this.

Negasonic brings her eyes up to spy Beast, the professor's presence bringing surprise onto her features, and she very quickly sets her glass down. That wasn't to say that she didn't notice the sign language.

Black-painted lips turn down into a deeper frown - she unfortunately did not know it, but she did get the gist with what the lip-reading showed. Drawing a breath to shout back, her reply was lost with the arrival of the fae group.

"... what the hell?!" she says, words probably lost admist the screaming as she pushes off of the bar proper, chin tucked low, eyes watchful. This was one of the few crowds she probably blended into.

But she was watching the creature first, getting a sense of how dangerous this whole thing was.

Khanitiel has posed:
    The noise from the stage draws Khanitiel's attention, but she does not move for a moment. Frankly, she has no means to determine if this is not the normal custom in this place. Still, something seems wrong to her. She will slip from the stool at the bar to stand. Without her slouching and leaning so much, that is quite the thing to behold. She towers above the man who was getting far too familiar with her.

    While no doubt many are heading the other way, she strides into trouble without a second thought. "Aberrations," she hisses through the din. Along the way, she flicks her right hand, then pauses to stare down at it. Something is supposed to be there, but is not. Regardless, there are enemies to fight. Armed or not. She marches on, heading into danger.

Henry McCoy has posed:
Henry McCoy isnt spotted so much moving as a series of frames in the lighting. Crouched, leaping, vaulting. Beside the audio tech now, Beast grimacing in agreement with his friends and fellow heroes as they prepare for the confrontation. "This is Henry McCoy of the X-Men. Move quickly toward the closest exit, dont push or trample!" he says into the PA system with one hand gripping the mic daintily and pulling it towards his massive maw from the surprised tech's headset as the other hand slides the left and right channels to maximum to allow his voice to carry over the music.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Amongst the music, voices and many scents of this place, that French accent does bring a little quirk of Blake's attention and have her turning to her head towards the source. It -was- her mother tongue after all, though to be fair he had been speaking english. Herself having ended up not all that far from April, either banking on the woman's looks or using her own to draw service closer, her hand comes to recieve her glass offered and then she pivots on her heel. Blue irises shift, spotting the curious sight that is Hank rather easily of course, but before she can fully appreciate the mutant's striking appearance...there's other contenders for 'out of place' that seem a lot less learned or friendly.

Fey creatures?! She'd actually encountered such things before, not to mention had quite the experience last time she drank from one....but these don't seem the most friendly things.

"Oh. My." she speaks, those soft words carrying her own accent past painted lips.

Corben Kelly has posed:
A voice yells, "Run, Lad, RUN!" But it's not a voice anyone else can hear and the only one that Corben /is/ hearing at the moment. The voice is that of the spirit of a wee little bent and shriveled Irishman - well, if anyone here can hear and see and hear spirits, well they hear it too.

Of course Metal Mayhem takes on a very literally meaning and the crowd going wild is really literal as well. The band that was playing quickly abandoned ship. People run this way, that way, over there, behind this, under that... and there's still a crowd at the door that's about to crush themselves to death in an effort to do exactly what that voice told Corben to do. Maybe a little louder Hank!

It's obviously not the noise that gets Corben's attention, it's the sudden chaos of running people and, of course, the voice of that spirit. He turns on his stool, blue eyes go impossibly wide and, in that moment... for just a moment, he freezes in place. He's not a fighter, he's never been a fighter. He can hold his own if push comes to shove, but... how the Hell is someone supposed to push and shove /that/?

The troll lifts its club over its head, and without a single word, swings it at Khanitiel's head.

It's that moment that Corben unfreezes and shoves one hand into the pocket of his old black duster.

The redcaps split off. Nasty little things, those and they're out for blood. Maybe they need a new supply of dye for their caps? The quicklings are just /gone/, or they seem to be until bottles from behind the bar start flying into the crowd.

April O'Neil has posed:
"Holy shit." April says at the sight of a troll? "Harley, this is what you have done to me by making me watch those Hobbit movies over and over..." She mutters under her breath as patrons of the bar, and the concert taking place within it, are rushing past April on either side to get to the exit. Places like this can become a meat grinder in emergencies like this, so April just places her back up against the pylon behind her for cover.

She doesn't run, she's a careless news reporter, though if questioned she might choose the word 'brave' to describe herself.

With some moving to intercept the beasts (the dangerous ones!), April just keeps her phone up in one hand, and her beer up in the other.

Though someone does bump her arm, causing her to spill more of her beer, and the little orange slice to fall on the floor.

Negasonic has posed:
Where'd the reporter go?

Not that Ellie knew that April was a reporter, but she was just looking up the way towards Corben again. The shitty thing about little bars like this? It was hard to find a way out. Although the voice over the PA makes it obvious. "Alright, so that *was* Hank," she says. Like there was any other person it could be.

Did she know faerie stuff as much as she should? But faeries, aliens, robots, whatever... didn't matter.

She didn't like what the redcaps looked like they were doing.

"*Hey*," she calls out to one, pointing at them through the crowd, trying to catch its attention.

What was she going to do once she had it's attention? Well.

Not much. Her power is kinda limited in a crowded bar like this. Which is why she was paying attention to the hand to hand stuff. She hoped. A bottle chucked at her, she seems to think that's a good idea. Finding an unattended drink, Ellie punctuates her attempt at getting the redcap's attention by chucking a drink at it.

Khanitiel has posed:
    The broken angel didn't expect much conversation with a troll. She is not shocked by this turn of events. But she is outclassed. She is tall, strong, defiant, resolute, and moves just fast enough to turn a fatal strike into a blow that skins off her right shoulder with enough force to tear flesh with its rough surface. It also wreckes her baggy sweater. Shelter garb is rather limited for women at six-and-a-half feet tall. Thankfully she's got a tank top under there.

    There is no reaction to the physical damage, though. Khanitiel lunges inside the creatures reach and slides between its legs. Unarmed and rather lacking when it comes to supernatural strength, she can only attack it with a power upward strike somewhere... presumably delicate. Which is not likely to please nor kill the troll.

Henry McCoy has posed:
Henry McCoy gave the tech instructions, handing her a business card as he tore off his handsome blazer. "Call this number, no you won't say the wrong thing. Breathe." and then he explained, pointing at the card in her hand "They will proxy emergency services for you. Understand?" he was a little behind the others in engaging, now he would have to hustle to catch up.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Vampires were quite fond of blood too, but more in the 'I need this to survive' sense than the desire for fashion, Blake's wardrobe accents aside. Still, the former vampire bride was a lot more ethical than she had been when she'd been bound, her feeding was only on 'willing donors', or at least those that joined her expecting a pleasent evening and woke up with foggy memories and a little lighter on haemoglobin.

She wasn't going to be supportive of the wanton slaughter.

Striding forwards, the raven-haired woman suddenly surges, catching one redcap mid-leap and slamming it down into the floor with bone-crunching force.

Corben Kelly has posed:
From his pocket, Corben pulls two small glass vials. He squeezes his hand shut to crush the glass, mixing the contents of them both together. The 'lad' has had his fair share of bad luck running into things bigger and badder than him of late, now he never leaves home without a plan. He raises his hand above his head and starts to twirl it. Smokey tendrils colored a sickly green seep from his clenched fist, growing larger and more thick with each pass. Still that voice yells, "RUN LAD, RUN, YE FOOL."

It's about then that something crawls from an inside pocket of his jacket, slimes its way up Corben's sleeve, then to his chest and gets its face right up into his. "RUN CORBS!" It's about a foot long, has the body of a slug and little bat wings, one big eye and a mouth like a lamprey. Isn't it cute? It's one eye glows red with irritation when Corbs does not run.

The troll is stunned for maybe a blink. Not likely because it felt the hit to its nethers down to its very soul, but more because the club didn't hit for a death blow. Trolls are big, but they're not nearly as dumb and slow as people tend to believe them to be. It spins on Khanitiel, that club raised and brought down /again/.

The redcap that's beaned in the head with someone's discarded drink turns toward Ellie. Its lips peel back into an angry snarl. It stalks forward, bouncing a hatchet up and down as if 'getting the feel' for it.

The other redcap is pushing, shaving and axe-handle punting its way around through the other side of the crowd until its met with a vampire's strength. Recaps are tough little bastards though, it's down but not out. It squirms and wiggles and kicks and BITES in its effort to get free.

Corben is beaned hard in the head by a quickling's bottle and goes down rather hard, but not before he'd managed to throw both hands outward, palms shoving whatever was in those vials toward the Troll. That putrid green smoke enters wherever it finds passage, ears, nose mouth... etc. It won't help for long, but in that moment the thing is actually gagging and coughing and spluttering and dancing from foot to foot trying to get its breath.

Someone at the door takes control after Hank's announcement and sort of gets the running cats herded in the right direction in an orderly fashion, emergency services should, maybe, possibly be on the way soon-ish?

April O'Neil has posed:
The sight of people engaging the troll is where April focuses her camera's lense. She's watching it with intent over the edge of her smart device, before someone clips her arm again, this time causing her beer to fly out of it. It smashes on the floor, which draws the reporter's blue eyed gaze toward the mess. She sees someone down on the ground, not far from where her drink just exploded everywhere, and with a yell toward those rushing the young woman, April shoulders her way over to her.

Offering a hand, April helps pull the girl up to her feet again, helping to keep her from getting any further trampled. "Are you okay?" She asks over the chaos, as she helps shield the girl, and escort her toward the door where the employees seem to be trying to make sense of the madness...

Khanitiel has posed:
    Khanitiel remains steadfast in her apparently suicidal resistance of the troll. Being on the ground is very limiting, however. She does not have the power to stop that blow. Nor is there much chance to address the powerful creature itself.

    With few options, Khanitiel will simply keep the creature busy, looking for an opening that she has come to realize she lacks the power to exploit. But her ability to avoid these attacks is very limited.

    The roll to the side leads to another glancing blow. This time to her foot. She is fortunate that her ankle isn't broken in the process. Still, it takes her effort to get out of the cloud herself, and when she stands, it is with effort. She is favoring her left leg. Along her back, the wounds where her wings once were glitter with golden light, perhaps enhanced by a trick of the light, or maybe from her rapidly declining condition.

Negasonic has posed:
Negasonic didn't have a vampire's strength. And something that was coming at her with a hatchet wasn't exactly the easiest looking thing to handle.

Her lips purse, and she brings her hands up in a boxer's stance, taking a step backwards. Her focus stays on the redcap right now, and she tries to judge the distance between herself and the other. Still way too many people in her for her to go too wild.

And really, even if the place was cleared out, her desire to explode in an actually cool bar in town was... not in the cards.

"Do you talk?" she snaps to the redcap.

Careful now. Her power was so blunt, and the energy so hard to control when she started to draw it in. But she was trying to be subtle with it.

Her eyes get an orange undertone, and she lips at her lip ring as she takes a step back to try to bait the redcap into lunging. Although he might be put off by the prisms of fiery energy that were dancing around her as she tries to draw in a little. Just a little. It was like trying to hold all the water into a faucet on full blast. She felt some leaking through.

Henry McCoy has posed:
When Corbon rises off the ground, and scoots away from the creature with his heels dragging on the club floor its because Beast has pulled the Mage back and then carefully set him back on his feet. Henry keeps his eyes on the troll, assessing the evading Angelic. "Good work Corben." he growls into his ear. "You think you can do something like that again?" he says, pressing the man's shoulders down slightly to steady him, seeming ready to engage in concert with the man.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Ow. Even with her own resiliance and strength, noone liked sharp teeth sinking down into their skin. Well, aside from Blake's 'kiss', but that was a different thing!

Her eyes bled from pale blue to red, fangs bared at the creature struggling in her grasp.

"No biting!" she hisses, before her hand tightens and she twists. Apparently lethal violence wasn't beyond her limits, and it was almost certainly less painful than what the average redcap would want to do to someone at their mercy.

Corben Kelly has posed:
"Feckin' /idiot/" mutters the ghost no one else can hear. The little slug... thing, took flight as Corben was falling and hovers over him now with little lamprey mouth open wide to show pointed little teeth, that one eye glowing brightly. It's almost cute that the small little thing believes it might be able to protect its fallen master. ... but Kib'Kir the demonling is not about to stand in the way of a big blue Beast that could possibly swallow it whole. Little thing flies up to about a four feet over Beast's head and hovers there squeaking out things like, "I will tear you from limb to limb!" Then, "Oh... you friend!"

Corben's dizzy and nauseous when he's pulled to his feet and he can't hear a bloody thing Hank's growling into his ear. But he gets the general gist just by gauging the situation and by what he catches of the man's mouth from the corner of his eye. After swallowing down the urge to vomit, he pulls another vial from his pocket. He draws his arm back and the vial goes sailing over what's left of the panicked and injured crowd. Thing about a potion /slinger/? They have to be able to sling their potions. The vial lands dead square in front of the troll. A brilliant flash of light will temporarily blind the thing and, unfortunately probably Khanitiel as well, unless her angelic physiology is just used to things so bright.

Put off by fiery eyes? When has anything ever mattered to a redcap? It does talk though, but only to say... "You stand in the way. We must get the book," before it falls for the bait and lunges, hatchet first, at Nagasonic.

The other redcap isn't fairing so well. It stops biting and struggling to do anything but remove ... and then its eyes bulge almost comically before the life is just gone from them.

It's the little quicklings that none are paying much mind that move their way closer to Corben and Hank.

Khanitiel has posed:
    Khanitiel is getting saved repeatedly by Corben, it seems. Not that she's going to withdraw. Now there's a little demon, too! The dangers of this odd world are many.

    The explosion of light is of course a nuisance, but eyes are not really what Khanitiel needs to fight. She can still /sense/ that thing is there. She has to grope around a bit until she finds something. A mic stand. It's not a proper mace, but in a pinch it will do.

    The broken angel grips it firmly and uses everything she has to bring it to bear on the troll's face. There is no superhuman strength, but she's still got a lot of force to wield in that frame of hers, and with the added weight at the bottom of the mic stand, this might actually hurt just enough to /really/ piss this thing off.

Negasonic has posed:
"Cool," Negasonic says, as the redcap lunges at her.

Her eyes narrow, and she focuses, those black-painted lips digging tighter together as those crimson-lined eyes glow a brilliant orange.

She lets her hand off of the faucet, and then shuts the water off. So to speak. A blazing fire flares around her, blue and orange, and she directs it in front of her, pushing forward with both hands to both repel the head of the axe, and the redcap itself, to fling it away from herself across the club floor.

Not a chance in hell she could aim it, though. She was lucky to just blow up in one direction.

"Try the library next time," she says, thin wisps of steam wafting up from her leather jacket as she gives her shoulders a roll.

Henry McCoy has posed:
Henry McCoy turns suddenly on the approaching Quicklings, slanting his body low and close to the ground. Quick analysis of the last few moments has yielded one fact: that any attack he makes will almost certainly be evaded.

Use that.

Hank sweeps a long muscular leg, somewhat slowly at two of the Quicklings. Its obvious, telegraphed and easily hopped over. But once the humanoids have left the ground, Hank knows they will not be able to effect or transition their movement until they land again. Beast awkwardly lurches back toward the pair, summons his speed and claps both palms violently. Two of the three Quicklings are smashed into each other, mid air, after they dodge his leg sweep.

Blake Riviere has posed:
One discarded redcap later, Blake comes to stride onwards, fangs still bared as she assesses the situation. Quicklings, another redcap...the troll. She could smell, taste the blood in the air from Khanitel's wounds. Perhaps she should lend a hand?

The surge of motion left an after-image in her wake, but unlike the broken angel? The blow from the vampiress leaping to strike the creature in the side was very much superhuman.

Corben Kelly has posed:
A woman's voice, disembodied but booming, rings out from the general vicinity of where the troll first appeared. "RETREAT!" She doesn't sound happy, it's a good bet some little minions are in some deep trouble.

One redcap dead, the other is laid out cold, breathing but not moving. The troll didn't even have a chance to block that blow, its still seeing nothing but blinding halos where the bright light once was. It staggers backwards, one foot teetering dangerously at the edge of the stage before Blake's blow shoves it right through the 'door' that's suddenly appeared in the air in the form of a slight shimmering. *POOF* The troll is gone as quickly as it arrived. The two quicklings are effectively /squished/ while the third is to the living redcap and dragging it toward that shimmering spot with speed almost beyond what the eye can see.

It seems to be over, the bar is near empty save a few people still hiding here and there. Injuries are minor save maybe a broken bone or two.

Look there. Corben's drinks are, still on the bar and upright. Without a word, he reaches for his shot of Tequila and tosses it back, lowers it and says, "One thing I never could stomach about living in New York City, all the damned Faeries."

Khanitiel has posed:
    Vision finds its way back to Khanitiel eventually. When it does, she sees Blake. A vampire. There is a most knowing look in her eye. There is no confusion in the angel. That is emotion, which there is no sign of in her expression. Rather, she seems to be doing her best impression of a living conflict. Purpose of design conflicts with virtuous intentions.

    "Thank you."

    It is not much, truly, but it is the best Khanitiel can do. Any instinct to attack is set aside. This contradiction has been resolved. That leaves other issues, though. She is hurt.

    Without further ado, she is going to limp towards the bar. She has to get her coat. Also...

    To Corben, this time, she says, "Thank you for your assistance." She looks to the demon. There is another calculation occuring. "You have a strange friend." A look right at Pup, wherever he might be. "Friends."

    A little sidenote. Regardless of language, limits in perception, or any other impairment, she is simply /understood/.

Negasonic has posed:
With the redcap out cold, Negasonic's eyes narrow just a bit, brushing off her shoulders as she works her jaw. Well. She handled *one* of them. The bigger one, over there?

"All good, uh... professor or whatever?" calls Negasonic over towards Hank, before she turns. There was another drink that had been abandoned. Her gloved hand snatches out to pick it up and bring it to her lips, in spite of what a terrible idea that might be in general.

She takes a chug, before letting the glass fall to the floor of the place. It probably was too new to get properly sticky floors yet.

A glance over the room at large, and she heaves a sigh. The police were probably going to be here soon, and, you know. Being a mutant in a ruckus?

Hank probably would get the worst of that. She kneels down by someone who had taken a bottle to the head, letting her eyes go to Corben afterwards. She calls in his direction, having the clue of the sign language. "... you know something about this?" she asks, pointing her finger towards the fallen... where did that redcap go again?!

Henry McCoy has posed:
Henry McCoy was by the audio tech again, giving her the chance to vent her excitement, point at her phone and gesticulate wildly as he put his blazer back on. He offered the tech a pacifying finger and glanced toward Negasonic, then to whom and what she was signing. "Alright, everyone. I think we need to split the club in two. Lets herd the civilians out the front, Samaritans will exit by the stage when ready. We can talk to the authorities in the alley as required."

Blake Riviere has posed:
Fangs draw back, those eyes fade back to blue as the creatures retreat and Blake shifts a little to reach out and wipe her hand off on a napkin cast to the floor.

Khanitel's thanks? It recieves a nod, an accented 'you are welcome,' she offered lightly, but there was no further words to follow. After all, there was plenty of blood around the wounded angel and well...Blake had already come here hungry.

Perhaps she'd have to clean up and then find another place to charm a donor.

Corben Kelly has posed:
Corben is about three quarters of the way through his beer by the time Khanitiel makes it to the bar. He's just kicked back, leaning against that bar, beer bottle dangling by its neck between two of his fingers. Man looks like he hasn't a care in the world. But he did pull his sunglasses from his pocket to put them on somewhere between the then and the now. They're over-sized, amber-lensed Lennon style things.

Kib'Kir has flown all the way up to the ceiling, hovering there and fighting the urge to not /flee/ when Khanitiel approaches. "Mmmmmhmmm," is his response to the fallen angel. It takes him a beat to realize that he's not wearing his cochlear processors yet he still /heard/ her. When the realization dawns, the finally turns to look directly at her. It's impossible to gauge much about his feelings about it all with his eyes hidden behind those glasses.

But his attention is drawn away again just as quickly, not because he heard Negasonic but because 'Pup' the little grumpy Irish spirit said, "That wee lil thing that could be you with lady bits is talking atcha, lad."

"What?" he doesn't yell, doing so doesn't make him hear himself any better. "Sorry, I'm deaf." He's signing as he speaks. He's been deaf since age twelve, it makes him pretty good at putting pieces of things together at least somewhat. He's looking where she's pointing and gives a shrug that brings his shoulders all the way up to his cheeks. "I guess it gave us the slip?" He doesn't always get it right, but at least he answered the right unspoken question?

Hank's whole thing gets missed. Split the club? Herd civilians? Talk to the authorities? Oh, /hell/ no. Nope, didn't catch a word of it. Or maybe he's just using his deafness as an excuse to sit on his ass and finish his damned beer.

Khanitiel has posed:
    While Khanitiel understands everything Henry is saying, she has diverted her attention to her shoulder. She does not say it, but she sure is thinking about how useless and sensitive this mortal flesh is.

    Finally, a question, "Are any of you doctors?" Just as before, it is a matter of meaning more than speaking and listening. Like so much about her, there is something alien and almost uncomfortable about her tone.

    "It appears that I need tending." A look downward and she notes, "Yes. The ankle is swelling and I need bandaging. I do not carry the means to address these problems."

    Another upward look at the demon. "You may approach, abomination. I will not destroy you this day. I am curious about your provenance, however, and it is critical that I ensure any hellgates are sealed."

Negasonic has posed:
A breath out, and Negasonic puts all the pieces together now. With a lift of her hand to get his attention first, she says, "They were talking about a book. Probably here in this bar somewhere, or whatever. I'm gonna come back after... this whole thing quiets down," she says, waving her hand in a so-so fashion in the air as she decides to start heading towards the exit. The back exit.

    At Khan's question, though, she jerks a thumb towards Hank, who was probably on his way out. So was she, though, stalking as she was through the club.

Corben Kelly has posed:
Once again, hearing Khanitiel without his cochlear processors was about to be something he addressed, but then something she says sets his panties into a bit of a bunch. "Hey! Kibs isn't an abomination!" He reaches out an arm and the little thing flutters down to land on it, crawl down into his coat and down into one of the big pockets inside. It's a little over a foot long, one would think it wouldn't fit, but Kib'Kir is the master of flattening itself out to be as small as possible.

"Abomination, who the fuck are you to judge?" he mutters under his breath as he polishes off his beer. Nobody calls Kibs an abomination! His hand drifts into a pocket as he adds, "I'd like to see you try to destroy him." Grumblemutter. Back off the sprog!

Corben generally seems clueless when Negasonic speaks. Not that he's faking it, he really is clueless. "No idea. Drop by my shop though, maybe we can figure it out." Before she actually leaves, he's pulling a card from his pocket and handing it off... if she decides to take it.

Negasonic has posed:
Negasonic doesn't.

She does take a picture of it with her phone, though, on the way out, before she waves.

Khanitiel has posed:
    "You are offended," notes Khanitiel. "You have affection for this creature of darkness and you behaved courageously." Those eyes rest on Corben and she just looks at him for a time. The doctor has left, so she is simply going to sit there, bleeding and ignoring that fact.

    "I apologize. I am appreciative of what you did. I have no interest in causing it harm tonight. However, something like this could not emerge on its own. If it came to this world, something more dangerous has let it in."

    His question about her right to judge gets some consideration. "I am... I was once in a position where decisions such as that were my very purpose."

Corben Kelly has posed:
"He's not a 'creature of darkness'," Corben retorts, his tone still defensive of the little thing. "He's my /friend/."

He looks back down at his empty beer bottle and settles it back on the bar. "I'm sure the paramedics are still outside," he offers along with a sigh. Then he pulls a small vial from one of his many pockets. "This should help if you drink it." It's only a very minor healing potion, it at least knock out a few of Khanitiel's injuries. He nods toward the back door and adds, "But I'm going to bail before this place is swarming with cops. I don't need to get into a marathon question session tonight."

...speaking of questions, he had so many and the first and foremost is why he could /hear/ her. But his curiosity doesn't outweigh his sense of self-preservation. Between his street art and his sticky fingers issues, he's a little allergic to police presence.

Khanitiel has posed:
    "Mortal medicine is only offered in return for money," Khanitiel replies. But he proves her wrong by being charitable. She does not question it. She drinks it immediately. It helps her shoulder heal and as she rises her ankle seems to work better.

    She does not follow Corben, but they head in the same direction out the door. She will move away once they are outside. Noble or not, the man carries many potions. She knows how mages and their kind may look at her. She has no parts left to spare.