19525/Drinks and a ... hit

Drinks and a ... hit
Date of Scene:	18 November 2024
Location:	Death & Co - East Village
Synopsis:	The Death & Co Cocktail Bar in East Village lives up to its name when Jackie and Rien's evening is interrupted by a kill squad who wasn't prepared to go up against The Darkness.
Cast of Characters:	Jackie Estacado, Rien D'Arqueness

---

Jackie Estacado has posed:
Late night drinks - and for some they can be just the start of the proverbial work day. Jackie's settled into a comfortable booth seat with his back to a wall, a good view of the doors and windows, and an outrageously expensive Old Fashioned - along with the start of a tab.

He's got a few hours to kill before his 'evening' plans start and it's been a long while since he last visited Death & Co's flagship location here in NYC, so it's with a bit of a smile that the impeccably suited, hopefully soon to be 'ex-mobster enforcer', contract taking assassin, current 'vessel' for the Darkness settles in with the drink and idly browses through something on his phone inbetween flirting occasionally with the waitress that stops by every now and again.

About the time he's ready to order his next drink a text arrives that garners an interesting reaction from the young man: First a pair of slightly raised eyebrows, then just the hint of a smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. A quick reply is sent and Jackie returns to his drink, nursing it a bit more slowly now .. if he's soon to have company he doesn't really want to be _too_ far ahead , even if getting and staying drunk isn't the easiest thing for him.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Getting and staying drunk.

It's a problem Rien D'Arqueness is all too familiar with, and one that threatens a bank account much smaller than Jackie Estacado's. That bank account is why she doesn't have a penthouse in New York permanently reserved under her name, or any permanent address, for that matter.

One could easily say she doesn't have a home and be right, but Rien might argue that she has many homes. One is Montreuil-Vieillepierre, her clan's ancestral village in France. Other is Xavier's School, where her father spends a good deal of his time. And while it's true that she doesn't have a place to lay her head at night in either of those 'homes,' she has family. Connection. Roots. Reminders that she is not, in fact, alone.

Given that and her ability to travel anywhere in the world at the snap of her fingers, does she really care if she has a consistent place to sleep in one city or another?

Not when she has lovers around the world, men and women alike who she sincerely cares about but remains uncommitted to. After all, her life isn't one that lends itself to commitments. Effectively immortal with responsibilities around the globe, it's easier -- safer -- not to give her heart away to one person. Especially when it's so enjoyable to have handsome men with strong, engaging personalities like Jackie who she can text when she's feeling like a bit of company.

His response made her smile. She could have changed and arrived with little more than a snap of her fingers, but things were still new. Though it wasn't a secret, she hadn't exactly been forthcoming about the extent of her abilities or her heritage during their last encounter. So, she gave it some time.

Twenty minutes passed. Enough time for her to have taken a cab from some undisclosed location.

Then she's walking in the door. She wears a sleek, tailored black, leather jacket over a dark emerald silk blouse. Slim, high waisted trousers accentuate the narrowness of her waist and lengthen her legs, her height boosted a few inches from 5'3" to around 5'6" by the heels of her ankle boots. She wears a modest amount of jewelry, a pendant on a long silver chain dangling around her neck to rest in the middle of her chest, and she carries a silver clutch. Her hair, long and blonde, is pulled half-up by an ornate clip behind her, though most of it left free around her shoulders.

It's unlikely Jackie misses her arrival or the way she's greeted at the door, informing the host of her intentions with a slow smile before being pointed towards the stool Jackie occupies.

"Quelle surprise," she croons in her French accent when she comes up behind his shoulder, dragging a hand slowly across it as she slips around in front of him with a pleased smile. "Death & Co? You are either a lover of irony or your work."

Those blue eyes flash with a mixture of amusement and warmth, though she lingers close to him, well within the corona of his body heat, one arm draped over his shoulder, her chin tilted up ever so slightly in offering of her lips, still curled into an easy smile.

Jackie Estacado has posed:
"I can't be both? Aren't you looking _entirely_ distracting this evenin'?" Jackie replies with a smile touching the corners of his mouth after watching her arrive and enjoying the view of her walk across the bar towards him. He and just about everyone else in the place, in fact.

He slips an arm around her as she settles in close, the weight of it alone enough to pull her in towards him just that bit more and allowing him to lean over to take her up on the invitation to kiss her, the greeting warm and clearly pleased.

After a few moments, and enough time for the waitress to come by and realize she's got 'competition' for the evening, Jackie pulls back and meets Rien's eyes with his own - not in a hurry to give her enough space to find a seat next to him just yet. "It's been a bit, how's things? Your text was a pleasant surprise."

THHHHUMP!

"Everyone but Estacado out - now! First and last f**n warning!"

The shout comes from the entry as no less than ten men in blacked out tactical gear, complete with automatic weapons ,and of all things - helmets with simple plain white circles spray painted across the face of them - lenses and mouth grills making it look almost like they were all faceless.

A few shots from the leader's upraised pistol into the ceiling gets the exodus starting amidst screams , yelling, and no small amount of drunken cursing.

"Gods _damn_ it." Jackie mutters under his breath, having tensed up just a bit as the new arrivals made their entrance, but nothing more than that. He remains where he is for the moment, lifts his glass to his lips, and drains off the last of his drink. "I suppose we'll have to do drinks elsewhere, or at least a bit later, seems I've ... business to attend to."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
It's entirely likely that Rien had no idea she was stealing Jackie's attention or affection from his casual flirting with the waitress. It's also likely that she has never once thought of herself as 'competition' in that way. That easy-going demeanor of hers seems to broadcast clearly that she's above that thinking -- as comfortable being the center of attention as she is being left to her own devices. There is not one single facet of her personality that suggests she might deign to 'compete' or share the time she's given once she's arrived.

It was there from the moment the two of them met in the Hellfire Club: 'Give me the same courtesy I give you or leave me alone. The choice is yours.'

It's in every movement, every glance, every vaguely predatory curl of her lips, and it's worked out well for them thus far. After that first night together, they parted ways the next morning companionably. No promises. No lingering goodbyes. No quiet hope for more time or attention. Just a very enjoyable evening shared and numbers exchanged should the opportunity ever present itself again.

"I could say the same," she muses, her body melting easily against his -- an appealing combination of soft curves and lean muscle -- when he drapes that arm around her. She seems content to settle there rather than take a seat, her clutch set on the bar beside them after that brief kiss. Immediately forgotten.

The question about how she is earns a rueful smile. She didn't really come here to talk about her feelings, but it isn't that she doesn't want to. That rueful look is much more likely to come off as both doubt that he actually gives a shit and amusement that he's willing to play the game to appease her more feminine sensibilities. It's the 'getting to know you' that so often comes with sharing a bed with someone more than once. The 'human' connection that goes beyond just using each other for something more primal.

"Business as usual," she answers dismissively.

A test in itself, perhaps, if the question in her eyes is any indication. She gave him an out. A way to skip over pretending she actually mattered to him. Would he drop it there? Or would he press for more?

She wouldn't find out. Not any time soon, anyway. The words are barely past her lips when everything erupts into chaos. There's a few screams, mostly high, female sounds from around the room. Men and women alike are scrambling to get to their feet, to rush towards the opportunity of escape provided to them.

Rien doesn't move. Doesn't even flinch at the sound of gunfire, though her eyes do narrow when her ears begin to ring, that vaguely muffled, 'everything sounds like it's happening underwater,' sensation starting to take over her perception. She hates guns. She's hated them ever since she joined the French Foreign Legion and fought against the Nazis. They're clumsy, unsophisticated, and loud.

Plus, they hurt.

"Friends of yours?" she asks, her voice maintaining that throaty purr, still settled comfortably into the curl of his arm with no attempt made to pull away, to run, to confront the attackers. "What's with the..." She draws a little circle through the air around her face with one finger, entirely unperterbed.

Jackie Estacado has posed:
Rien's reply to his question on feelings, or how she does, earns a lifted eyebrow from Jackie and a bit of a chuckle along with a shake of his head, "Rien, you reached out.. I'm more than a bit pleased that you did - and casual to the point of, what's the term these days, 'transactional' is fine if that's what you want.. but the question wasn't pro-forma anyway." Jackie replies, _despite_ the men that are letting people by them only after comparing them to what's presumably his picture on something on the insides of their wrists.

He cocks an eyebrow at her, "This, though..this my .... thing to deal with, no need for you to get involved with .. the circle jerk gang over there." He flashes a smile at her and then slips off the stool he's on, rising to his full height and stepping just far enough away from the bar to look at the crew and give himself a bit of room.

... And then all the lights go out ...

Guns start to go off.

"He's ri.." <<automatic gun fire>> "..urk."

"Night vision wo...urk."

Emergency lights come on a moment later, red lighting, bright ( relatively ) green exit signs, and Jackie... err.. well maybe Jackie hasn't moved. But he does look ( and smell ) different...in the last 30 seconds or so he's changed into .. armor? High tech, semi-organic, dark black, green, and yellow armor that extends up into a mask that covers the front of his face and leaves his long black hair loose.

And, despite having not moved there's three dead 'circle jerk' members on the floor, not a one of them in one piece any longer, and the rest of the 'crew' look like they've entirely lost it.

At least for a moment, then their training kicks in, they lift their rifles and start to unload in the general direction of the Darkness.

For those that have lived as long as Rien, with her area of knowledge and operations, it's more than clear just who is standing in the place that Jackie was but moments ago - and presumably is.

"Someone should've told you all not to bring guns to a fight with me... like a knife to a nuke fight.." the Darkness says, with irritated amusement in his tone, as shadows begin to move around the edges of the room, little two and three foot tall creatures moving to flank the assailants.

"Rien.. just stay down.. I won't let this mess ruin that outfit, one way or the other."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
...Or maybe she does get her answer.

A skeptical eyebrow lifts ever so slightly at Jackie, and there for a moment is a glimpse of her father's face -- Logan's face -- looking at him. The same flat, disbelieving expression.

"Really?" Spoken just like her expression. Flat.

Calling them the 'circle jerk gang,' however, earns him an amused grin.

"Knock yourself out," she offers with a vague wave, slipping a few stools away from him to where someone else's drink had been abandoned. She reaches for it, lifts it to her lips... and the lights go out.

Rien's life is a never-ending series of contradictions.

On one hand, her heightened senses are a boon. Even when the lights go out, she can still see movement -- shapes, better than any merely human eyes could ever hope to. She can smell the iron in the air as the blood is spilled before she ever needs to see it with her eyes, even through the layers of burned gunpowder and bodies doing the unfortunate things that bodies do when they die. All smells she's very familiar with.

On the other hand, it was overwhelming when she was a child. Loud noises. Sudden flashes of light in the dark. Overwhelming smells. It was sensory overload. At times it still is, though she's learned to work through it, to focus on what's important.

Like the shape of the figure standing where Jackie was only a moment ago.

Then the emergency lights come on, bathing everything in red except for the exits, and Rien herself is sitting on the stool several away from him, legs crossed, that glass in her hand, watching The Darkness and the shadows stir around the room.

Well, that's... new information.

Yet, she makes no movement to rush to aid either side of this fight. Languidly, she takes another drink, carefully weighing her options...

She's in the process of that when one of the assailant's automatic guns goes off and there's a flicker of blue energy in front of her, a magical shield catching the bullets and sending them... away. Somewhere else, thudding into a wall.

Rien's eyes flash to the man, but she makes no move to stand. Instead, she raises one hand, snaps her fingers, and there's a quick, brilliant flash of white light both from her fingertips and the space the man used to occupy. It's a bit more than the muzzle flashes, maybe enough to 'sting' Jackie just for an instant since bright light isn't really his thing, but it's _so_ fast.

But then the space the man was standing in is... empty. He's just gone.

"Apologies," she says, preemptively. "Please, continue."

Jackie Estacado has posed:
That brief flash of light and the disappearing goon seem to be enough to set the next round of events off.

The emergency lights go out - all at the same time - as do the exit door lights.

Guns start to go off, bullets fly, there's many flashes of light from the automatic weapons... but oddly there's no further sound of bullets hitting .. anything.

Then the screaming starts. The sounds of body parts hitting the floor. The sound of ... teeth on flesh.

There's movement, lots of movement of many shadows in the darkness, darker areas that swarm over the would be 'kill team' and bring them all to the ground.

It's but a few moments, really and then there's quiet..

"The lights will come back on here in a moment, just in case you don't wanna be light blinded, or... have a queasy stomach."

"Boss.. we cleaned up our mess.."

Another body part hitting the ground sound, the tinkle of ammo rolling across the floor.

"Uh...Nannie..you missed one."

"..Dammit."

The lights come back on to a grisly sight, if not horror house like. There's a pile of helmets, armor, weapons, bullet casings _and_ bullets in the middle of the room by the entry. There's quite a bit of blood all around that area, and on the items in the pile as well, but there's no sign of the bodies..

The Darkness stands just where he was when he 'arrived', apparently having not moved a muscle, though now he does turn his head to glance over his shoulder back at Rien.

"Was that drink any good?"

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Thank you," the blonde woman murmurs softly in the darkness, to The Darkness.

When the lights come back on, Rien's free hand is flat across her brow, shielding her eyes from the sudden bright glow from overhead. Her eyes, though they flicked briefly to the tidy little pile of bodyless gore, are mostly fixed on Jackie.

Or.. well.. The Darkness.

"Too sweet," she complains. Then she lifts the glass to her lips and drains the rest before setting it back down on the bar, uncrossing her legs, standing, and taking a few easy strides to stand by his side.

Once she's there, she turns to face the pile more fully.

"If you need the last one to complete the set, he's somewhere in Jau National Park."

One of the largest forest reserves in South America. In the middle of the Amazon. In Brazil.

"Technically, if he dies, it won't have been me that killed him, so this is still all your doing."

There's no smile on her lips, but there's some pretty clear dark humor in her voice and the casual way she slips a hand into one of her jacket pockets. A moment later, there's small tin extracted, flipped open, and a home-rolled cigarette extracted.

She slips it between her lips, and the tip seems to light itself as she puffs on it, blowing the smoke out through her nose. It doesn't smell like a cigarette. It smells more like a unique combination of exotic herbs.

"You're welcome to one, if you like. It's my own blend."

Jackie Estacado has posed:
"No thanks, never picked up the habit." Jackie replies with a smile, the mask somehow making it clear that he _is_ smiling, even before it seems to melt away and retract into the collar of his armor. There's a hardness in his eyes, an _anger_, that certainly wasn't there but a few minutes ago - it's not directed at her, but it's _quite_ clear that he's more than a little irritated.

"As for the bugfucker you sent wherever, as long as he's not likely to make it out alive, he can stay where he is. "

He glances back at the pile of gear, shakes his head slightly, "I'm sorry you had to .. well, hear that.. maybe see bits of it amidst the rest of the noise and crap." He says, even as he moves to slip an armored arm around her..the gauntlet covered hand resting on her far hip - as if he wasn't wearing the armor at all.

"I imagine we've more than just .. extra-curricular activities and your general 'emotional state' to chat about over breakfast in the morning.. and on our way, hmm, well, anywhere else. Won't be too long before the cops ratchet up the nerve to come through the door."

Rien may, or may not, notice that there are bits of electronics mixed in with the gear on the floor...and possibly put together the fact that the scent leads back out of the room - maybe not - but the electronic junk is almost certainly the security recording gear, cameras from around the join, any related components.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Who knows," Rien mutters softly. "You don't shoot at unarmed women. Not if you know what's good for you."

The cigarette bobs between her lips for a moment as she snaps the tin closed and places it back in her pocket. She takes another, long draw, and then her fingers slide up to pluck it -- first knuckle, between forefinger and ring finger. She blows pale blue smoke out between her lips a moment later, turning her head back and forth like she's either trying to dissipate it faster or spread it around more.

"But, perhaps he's bitten by a radioactive jaguar, and soon I'll have a new.. ennemi jure." That French accent thickened for just a moment before a pause. "Arch-nemesis. Oui?"

Maybe she wasn't expecting the arm to come around her, this time. Maybe she thought there would be a more clear separation between Jackie Estacado and The Darkness. There's just the faintest bit of tension that creeps into her shoulder when it happens, a slight turn of her head to look at his masked face. Still, she doesn't pull away.

"Me also," she says, her French accent lingering in her words. Her tone is clearly playing along, waving her cigarette vaguely in the direction of the pile. "And all I got out of it was one crappy drink. If you wanted to play with your friends, you could have told me. I would have understood."

Finally, a smile touches her lips, her eyes warm.

"Breakfast? Am I so transparent?" she asks wistfully, but there's still humor dancing in them. Once more, she lifts that cigarette to her lips and inhales slowly, the smell of those herbs filling the air around her. And, perhaps remarkably, dampening the smell of death in the room.

"But, you're right, of course. As transparent as I might be, perhaps we should cut to the chase -- if you'll pardon the expression -- and make our exit somewhere more private?"

She steps forward out of his arm, then, and switches her cigarette to her left hand. She makes a fist with her right, three glowing bone claws -- each surrounded in a bright blue aura -- springing out from between her knuckles, and with them, she rips a hole in the fabric of space itself. She rends the air in front of them, and reality tears open like a curtain. The ripped edges flutter, and through them, it's easy to see the main living area of Jackie's penthouse hotel room on the other side.

"You're welcome to come with me, of course," she offers when she glances back over her shoulder. But I'll understand if you prefer to meet me there."

With one last draw of her cigarette, she blows out the smoke and then flicks it casually towards the pile of debris. The embers scatter with a flash of red heat.

And Rien steps through the portal.