3962/Nocturnal Interuptions!

Nocturnal Interuptions!
Date of Scene:	28 October 2020
Location:	NYC streets
Synopsis:	Blake and Ariah go for a night out, only to be targeted by a HYDRA hit team.
Cast of Characters:	Blake Riviere, Ariah Olivie

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Blake Riviere has posed:
The sun often held tyranny over many a classic vampire in story and indeed in lesser bloodlines, but for Blake and Ariah? It wasn't so. Of course, habbit and the discomfort of bright light on eyes adapted for seeing in perfect darkness did have the elder of the two prefering to be the most active after things were dark.

After all, that was when humans got up to their most entertaining things anyway!

Dressed for a night out, Blake had tied up her hair in the usual ribbons, wrapped her form in a 'little black dress' and boots that completed the somewhat 'gothic' look and she was on her way to yet another club to find herself entertainment and likely a meal for the evening, an invitation having been left for her companion.

Perhaps it was as close to a 'date night' as vampires got?

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Depite the three quarters of a century of devotion and close proximity to her 'mother', Ariah is quite autonomous. She hunts, and lives her best unlife as she pleases and maintains a respectful distance with the elder for the most part.

Unless, of course, she is summoned. And so she gets the message, and arrives where Blake is with little time delayed.

    "Mére," she states quietly. The shorter vampire is clad in something snug and very similarly designed to a 'virgin killer' dress. It's smooth and white, instead of a knit sweater dress, though, and while backless, isn't cut so low as to reveal anything below the small of her back. Flat-soled boots in white round out the outfit, leaving her slender arms and legs bare.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Certainly it was fitting attire for the evening, and an amusing contrast between the two women, white and black reflected in attire as much as their hair.

Distance and independance was certainly important when desired, after all Blake had spent nearly a century as a 'Bride', barely more than a slave to the will of another, and she had no desire to do the same to her own 'childe'.

"Ariah," she greets, a smile offered as she leans in to plant a kiss on each of the other woman's cheeks. "How is the night treating you?"

Elsewhere, above, camera recorded the meeting. It's source? A heavily modified drone remotely piloted just far enough that vampiric senses wouldn't pick it about the noise of the city. The pair might be predators out in the dark, but someone intended to hunt them tonight!

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "The night finds me well," Ariah answers softly in return, sharing those momentary kisses, her black painted lips shining just a little, corners tugged at in a ghost of a smile. "I hope for you as well? It is not often I am invited out for dinner," she says, a faint touch of playful in her voice.

    As far as that drone? Even if the sound were closer, Ariah's grasp on modern technology still remains to be tenuous. She prefers to study other things, art and music.

    "What is our destination?" she asks softly, lingering close to Blake, in easy hand-holding distance.

Blake Riviere has posed:
"A failing of mine perhaps?" Blake muses, lazily leaning against he other woman in a gesture of familarity indeed puntuated with a lazy claiming of that hand to hold. "When you are immortal, you don't notice how infrequent some things are."

A wink offered, the older vampiress began to lead the way. Their destination was a club, but the vampiress had plans for the evening that included a walk in the park, perhaps even a movie after the fact. After all, cinema had been one of her favorite inventions of human kind.

It was only as they continued to walk and the raven-haired woman outlined her intentions that she suddenly paused, a frown on her lips as she tilted her head. Something wasn't quite right...

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Hardly a failing. Time does pass irregularly for those such as us, and I struggle to get used to it. The library begins to close while I am nose deep in a book, and I find it hard to judge things more than just the changing of the skies when day breaks and later wanes.." she frowns, thoughtful, waxing a bit poetic, especially in her accent.

    The hand taking her own is notice, a squeeze gently returned, and the short woman stays close to her elder. She hadn't any idea what their destinations were, nor the night planned ahead, really. So she listens, then purses her lips, neutral expression turning slightly into a frown as well. "Mére?"

Blake Riviere has posed:
Blake's lips open to speak, but it's the light sniff of the air that's telling. Perhaps a warning for Ariah that she might notice the smell as well. It was faint, almost confusing in its nature. Something clinical and artificial, but mixed with the unmistakeable scent of death. Almost like a morgue really, but that wasn't preservative that they were smelling.

The sudden release of compressed air, the clack of a mechanical action? That was all the more familier to women who'd encountered firearms before and immediately Blake's eyes flicked from amused blue to deep, luminously angry red. They were being fired upon from the window of the apartment building across the street with dart rifles. Darts laced with a mix of heavy tranquilizers and dead blood: someone knew what they were doing!

A frantic weave was all that stopped her from being riddled with several of those darts.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    That initial query is so sweet, so innocent. Difficult to imagine from a century old vampire and veteran of one of the most violent wars in history. But she hears that sniff, and does the same. Her senses aren't as acute as her mother's, but there's something ... a hint of blood. And it's so very wrong.

    She doesn't hear the firing, and her reflexes aren't as fast as Blake's, her vampire powers pale in comparison to her elder's. But it's enough. It's a split second, a reflex taken. The sound of needle darts hitting glass tickle her ears.

    Her left arm is glowing bright, the runes etched in her bones, beneath her flesh, shine almost blinding blue-white as she flares her power just for the moment needed. The darts meant for her stab into a solid barrier of magic, tiny hairline cracks formed around the impact points as the shield shimmers.

    She narrows her eyes, fixing them on the gloom in the building above, before she consumes the shield's power, extinguishing the light under her arms, and letting the darts fall to the ground. In the same breath, she's moving for cover, frowning deeply. "It would seem others wish to join our date," she quips.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Blake lacked the magic of her companion, it mattered little for now. They both had evaded that initial assault and it ment one thing. Their would-be ambushers were almost certainly going to find their task a lot harder. They knew what they were up against, but there was little doubt the men had probably hoped things would go smoothly.

No such luck!

The vampire in black didn't have a weapon on her, tonight had been intended to be fun in a much more traditional sense. Romantic even...so that tended to lessen the sharp implements she'd carry. Of course, she -was- still a very old and now quite agitated vampiress, so she wasn't exactly harmless.

"It would seem so..." she hisses, fangs already begining to extend. Clearly humor was lesser for the woman whose plans had been ruined. "Lets not keep them waiting."

More darts fly, the several men hastily working the action of their quiet weapons and trying to score the hits they'd missed the first time around. The front door however, it burst open with the emergence of several more figures, each brandishing combat automatic weapons and immediately opening fire. Suppressors dropping the noise to still noticably audible cracks, their normal bullets weren't intended to kill the pair, but hopefully slow them down enough for the 'Poachers' to catch the pair.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Two vampires, each with their own unique set of strengths, with surprisingly little overlap. Ariah's own fangs snap into place, but she's much more reliant on magical prowess than anything else, especially at this range. But the men have an advantage on that, their suppressors quiet, flashes hidden.

    "We do not wish to draw excess attention, correct? Should I refrain from going full bright?" she asks, knowing full well that her magic doesn't have a dimmer switch. The moment she starts slinging energy, there's going to be gawkers. "And I left my sword at home," she adds.

    The hail of bullets IS a frustration, especially as her healing factor, again, lags far behind Blake's. For the briefest moment, she takes cover, weighing her options--or letting Blake with her superior physical attributes issue the alpha strike. At the least she can, for a moment, watch her elder work in that little black dress while she plans her own tactical maneuvers.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Even with their speed, neither could really stay in the open for long. The nearest poor parked car would serve as cover, if only partial when bullets punched through the frame, but it would buy them time. Hopefully the owner had good insurance! Ariah's question earns a nod, a little exhale of breath as she considers and then her eyes look down. Already her dress was dirtied, marred with blood from a hit she hadn't noticed she'd initially taken. Even after they'd dealt with all this, the night was almost certainly going to be delayed or cancelled.

It was downright rude.

"The men in the windows are yours," she instructs, gesturing with a finger and then shrugging her shoulders. "We should not try to draw heroes, or law enforcement too quickly...but you do not need to be too gentle." Another bullet tears through the door, casting metal fragments into the air between them and shattering the window of the nearby storefront as Blake peers out. "These men at the door are mine. I will meet you in that room where we can ask what the occasion is, non?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah's dress is ruined, really. Wearing white to a gunfight is a surefire recipe for a sad evening. And it's clear the gunmen aren't exactly worried about collateral damage. "I will endeavor to do my best," she promises, and nods. "Oui, let us be upon them, then." She pulls away from the car and... heads in the opposite direction of the gunfight.

    Up, she goes. Away from the shooters and towards pipes and windows, getting herself on the shorter roof of the storefront that's being visited by stray rounds. The loss of the window likely triggers an alarm inside, and Ariah is aware that she must make haste anyway.

    She works her legs, the shorter vampiress still having impressive runners and the training and practice to use them, honed further by her vampiric enhancments.

    The next time she's easily seen is when she's taking that running leap off of the roof towards the apartment, arms crossed in front of her, legs up, and her shield flaring under fire as she cannonballs her way through the upstairs window.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Even for a vampire, rushing headlong at multiple sources of automatic fire wasn't great. Especially if there were also people trying to sedate her with dart rifles. Of course, they were about to have an Ariah-sized distraction slamming through the window at them, darts losing out to the shield of the creature they'd prepared for everything except the possibility of being a sorceress atop of being a vampiress as well.

Still, Blake's own form melts away, a rush of sudden movement and shapes where the pale beauty had been moments ago turning to a barage of angry, shrieking bats with glowing red eyes that would give a certain Gotham night a run for their money.

Some fall, cut down by bullet or dart, but like a tide they surge and swarm over the men. The biting and scratching was almost certainly painful, but the sudden panicing fire went wide, one man catching his ally in the chest and he tried to aim at the creature rushing his face.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah would tsk inwardly. At the least, her last unfortunate hunters had prepared for magic as well as her vampiric traits. They hadn't prepared for a symbiote, however, and the sheer brutality that entailed. The ancient horror that is Blake would be more than enough for the men downstairs of course.

    As for those in the window, the glowing ball of white-haired vampire is likely somewhat unexpected. Her shield is enough for bullets and more, the sedatives in the darts having nothing to effectively leak into, the tips dulled and what little damage to the shield showing up no worse than sand putting small pockmarks in a windshield.

    There's a sound, though. The men and vampiress downstairs would hear it, a heavy bass -THUMP- as Ariah turns her shield into a shockwave, a burst of concussive energy flinging the dart-slinging gunmen against the inner walls of the apartment with bone-crunching force. Anyone watching the window would see a flash of bright white-blue light as if someone's TV had exploded...

Blake Riviere has posed:
Perhaps the hunters had thought to catch only Blake, or maybe their intelligence had only planned for 'Vampire'. Whatever it might be, their failing was going to be pretty evident rather quickly. One man panics, hastily drawing a sidearm and making to fire real lead at the mystically empowered night huntress, but the shockwave sends him hurtling, his stray bullet flying high into the ceiling and lodging itself somewhere in the insulation while the winded men are left dazed and trying to recover enough to fight.

Downstairs? The swarm of bats had gathered and reformed, revealing a bloodied Blake with a slightly more torn up outfit courtesy of the wounded 'bats', but that wasn't exactly great news for the gunmen as sharpened nails and inhumanly strong limbs lashed out, tearing and bludgeoning flesh. Those below might have heard the thud, but those above? They were probably hearing screaming...

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Sharp ears do hear screaming, the younger vampiress pausing for a heartbeat, lips pursed. "...they are never quiet when they die..." she muses aloud to herslf, shaking her head. "...they will draw others..." she exhales a sigh and looks a the duo of dazed men before her. "Do you not think they should keep quiet? It is rude, non? Especially rude to interrupt a ladies' night out."

    The one with the sidearm is ignored, momentarily, so she can focus on the other should he still have his tranquilizer gun out. The bullets are less of a concern over the darts, laced with what they are. She surges forward, roughly headbutting the man as he staggers, smashing her skull into his with a sickening crack that leaves the white-haired girl herself largely unfazed.

Blake Riviere has posed:
The dazed men struggled, one trying to climb to his feet and level his rifle, only for that headbutt to cave skull and send him slumping down to the ground still. The man with the sidearm had seen that shield stop harm, but a few curses muttered accompanies the pulling of the trigger as he tries his luck. Between the horror movie sounds below and the danger in the room with him? What did he have left to lose?

Down below Blake could be heard inflicting harm, but the screaming had cut short along with the gunfire. Bloodied and torn up, her flesh was currently knitting itself together while she buried her fangs in the throat of the second to last man, only for her to gag and toss him asside with the sound of someone who'd eaten something rotten. At least they'd planned for bites?

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah turns as bullets slam into her shield, though she hadn't been keeping it fully reinforced. The stray rounds from below, the darts having peppered it, and the impact with the leap send it crackling--and cracking. Like shards of glittering, glowing glass, it caves and shatters. Razor-sharp shards of dissipating magic leave small cuts in Ariah's bare skin, but not so bad as the few bullets that impact her center mass.

    She's given pause, grunting softly, looking down as the blood blooms in her once-white dress, now stained and perforated. Then she bares her fangs and stalks towards the last remaining gunman, reaching for his wrist to remove the threat of the gun, disarm him and... talk to him? "We are both soldiers, oui? Tell me who you work for and I may offer clemency..."

    She trails off, letting the silence sink in. The silence of the lack of extended gunfire downstairs. She is unaware of Blake's feeding issues, nor how many are -actually- remaining. But she speaks anyway, as if her icy words were truth. "You are the last man."

Blake Riviere has posed:
A little look of horror, a fear in his features and...something else. Hate perhaps, or utter disgust at his own failure. The gun taken lands with a thud, scatteres aside, but the man himself clenches his teeth.

"When I fall, more will take my places..."

Words in English, no german accent, yet they were familier enough and similar to some Ariah had heard before. She'd smell it too, the sting of cyanide in the air as a capsule was broken. The man didn't want to give information...but he'd offered some unwittingly none the less.

Downstairs, all was silent. Whatever Blake had encountered? It had ended for the evening.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah's eyes widen, she hears the words, smells the usual scent of the suicide pill, and growls under her breath. The man might be close to death by his own hand, but the last thing he sees before the cyanide takes hold is the witch's fist going right between the eyes. Be it suicide or another skull crushed, it doesn't matter.

    Fist covered in blood, bits of bone wedged into her skin, Ariah pulls her arm back from the hideously compacted skull and the hole in the wall she'd left. It's a gruesome sight, but there's few people that Ariah wouldn't show mercy to. This sort would be one of them.

    Picking bone fragments out of her fist, she moves to wait in the center of the room. Blake had told her to do so in the first place.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Eventually the door would open, another would enter the room, but it wasn't more goons. Instead the 'draculina' herself steps forwards, blake bloodied and...looking a little ill.

A sigh, a spit, she drops to lean against the doorframe with a mutter. "Poison. They did not wish to be fed upon or questioned it seems..."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Mére..." is the first word that leaves Ariah's lips. She moves in close, quick, and offers herself to support Blake instead of the doorframe. She glances back at the two she'd dealt with, small potatoes in comparison to the number her sire had dispatched, but a bigger threat with those dart rifles.

    Her eyes narrow again, looking at the smashed hole where a man's face is now buried inside a wall. Her head shakes and she focuses her eyes on her companion's. She only utters one word, a low growl and filled with vitriol and contempt.

    "Hydra."

Blake Riviere has posed:
The support is taken, but Blake would recover. It just felt like nausea of a severe kind. Blake exhales, closing her eyes and muttering a little laugh of disgust.

"Coming for us directly?" she comments, looking down at the dead ambushers in distaste. "I'd be almost flattered they're thinking of us, if they hadn't ruined my evening, or your lovely outfit!"

The vampiress? She sighs, closing her eyes. "Someone will have called for help by now. The law enforcement will not be far away..."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Airah looks down at herself, then back at Blake. "To say nothing of your dress as well. Our night and our clothes are in a sorry state," she says quietly. "And we have yet to have a proper meal as well, and will not be doing so looking like this."

    There's a quiet sigh, she had so been looking forward to a night out with 'mom', and not this sort of action either. "They are stepping up their aggression against us... and it is becoming more and more unpleasant."

Blake Riviere has posed:
"I think," Blake murmers, straightening herself up, "that this night may call for a shower, perhaps some 'ordering in'..."

She looks over the chaos, to her childe and then to the corpses before sighing and offering out a hand. "Tomorrow we will notify SHIELD. And I will make this one up to you..."