Shoot Em Up At The Hades Corral

With her head raised high, Ella strolls in past the bodyguard with a half-smile twitching on her carmine lips that are so artfully lined with black liner. Her eyes are given the same treatment as many in the goth subculture, dark liquid liner in an almost cat-eye style. Past that, very little make-up actually mars her features, leaving them their naturally pale hue. Silver hoop earrings adorn both of the piercing holes in her ears, matching the few rings she placed on her fingers. Her skirt is like a tu-tu, coming down to the knees and made of black and red tulle to match her black hair and the red artificial pieces that have been added in. The leather boots she wears over her fishnets are tied up the back and the shirt she wears is a simple, black tee that's been slashed on the upper chest, sides, and back. Grey eyes flicker through the club before she approaches Devon, her small smile turning into a wide grin.

Arturo seems to be moving through the crowd in no particular direction at all, getting to know the landscape and admiring the interior design of the establishment. He moves to the music, but his body does not gyrate as many of the otherwise affected youths do. He has finally made his way back to the bar, and takes a seat with a sigh of relief as he gets off of his feet. He seems to look a clever combination of lost, and curious, but looks to be enjoying himself, a slight grin on his face as he watches the passing crowd.

Elijah continues moving with the thump of the music, before his body seems to slow down and he begins opening his eyes. His gaze pans the crowd, bodies moving up and down to obscure his vision. A puzzled look slips onto his features and he begins to walk through the moving mass of bodies, searching for his companion with a curious expression. Finally he stops near the interest and stares at Ella and Devon, a blonde eyebrow rising on his forehead.

From outside the club the retort of heavy gunfire can be heard as those inside the Club scream and a slowly increasing panic begins to overtake the crowd. The bouncers edging folks away from the doors as several more pour out of the back rooms, an assortment of shotguns and uzis and countless other weapons in their hands as they try to make their way towards the door.

After nodding politely to Ella in greeting, one of Devon's hands vaguely gestures around the room as he says, "Welcome to Club Hades." Slowly walking away from the gate with steady and precise steps, Devon's eyes seek out Elijah amongst the mob of people. Once he's spotted the other man, his gaze begins to follow the waiter's every move. Seeming to ignore the berth that he's given, it's hard to tell if it's due to a lack of care or a lack of notice. Obviously seeing the puzzle look offered, the teen blinks a few times in rapid succession, seeming at a loss to explain the entire story. "I'm helping Ella find a stripper.", is the candid answer finally offered, though it's barely out of his mouth when the gunfire sounds out. Immediately, Devon bolts towards Elijah in a full-out sprint.

Amidst the confusion and the sound of gunfire, Ella instinctively lets out a squeak and ducks. With widened eyes she tries to maneuver her way towards one of the restrooms with an almost single-minded devotion. She pushes when she has to, weaving through the panicked crowd with a deep knot of dread twisting inside of her. She's lost sight of Devon and Elijah, and she thought she saw that Arturo guy from the burned building, but she can't help that now. Everything inside of her screams to just get the hell out of this maelstrom.

Arturo stares at the entrance, gaze fixated on the bouncers passing by him in a rush. As if he had been in this situation before, he calmly proceeds to the far end of the bar, and has a seat there, avoiding the crowd as he passes by effortlessly. He remains seated there, taking a low stance, and glances to the entrance to see what the commotion is, from a more safe vantage than before the bar.

The waiter flinches as the sounds of gunfire fill the air, his body ducking instinctively as a swarm of people pass by him. He straightens his posture after a moment and stares at Devon as the other man sprints towards him, one hand held out to grasp one of the youth's. After this is done he leans in towards Devon and yells "I SAW ELLA RUN TO THE BATHROOMS! PROBABLY THE SAFEST PLACE!" The waiter turns and begins to sprint, hopefully with Devon in tow, passing by the bar as he does so. His free hand snakes out and grabs his thin black jacket off of a stool before continuing onward.

At first, Devon allows himself to be lead by Elijah, but the closer to the bathroom the pair get, the more resistance Devon puts up. "YOU GO. I NEED TO STAY HERE.", is called out once they pass the bar. Neck arching, the teen peers over one thin shoulder to look towards the club's entrance and the bouncers protecting it. He nods towards the mass of club-goers crouched at the back of the club, "I'LL BE FINE. JUST GET TO SAFETY." As though to prove his point, he plants both feet firmly on the ground, leaning away from the other man with some of his, rather slight, weight.

Managing to make it to the bathroom through the shrieking, stomping crowd, Ella pushes her way through the door and stumbles up to the large mirrors found in any public washroom. She places both hands on the surface and then her forehead between them, staring deeply into her own reflection as she tries to catch her breath and still her ferociously beating heart.

Arturo glances around the club furtively, noting that many are exiting towards the rear. He leans over the bar, peering down at the bartender crouching behind the bar to hide. He offers a sly grin, reaching over. "Just going to get this…expensive." He states flatly, grabbing his coat. The bartender merely gives a frightened nod amidst the chaos. He moves towards the bathroom, staying low and hugging the wall, and entering at the almost revolving state of the door as half a dozen people enter it in rapid succession.

The waiter turns back with a stern look on his features, shaking his head fiercely at his companion. His arms wrap around the willowy youth in something of a bear hug, before Elijah lifts the slim figure up with a rather unnatural amount of strength for his size. He proceeds towards the bathrooms without saying a single word, carrying Devon along through the rush of people.

Contrary to Elijah's quiet approach, Devon seems to have decided not to suffer in silence, as the words, "Put. Me. Down!", are snarled out through clenched teeth. After realizing that words are most likely of little use, a light kick is delivered to Elijah's shin from one boot-clad foot, head turning to look at the entrance once more. The kick apparently having the desired effect, Devon is released, hand moving to brush his clothing back into place. While he doesn't rush towards the door, he does remain near the bar, being sure to stay behind the well-armed bartender.

Ella shoves herself away from the mirror with a small gasp, leaving behind her sweaty palm prints along with a smear of a forehead print. She pushes through those cowering in the bathroom with her, greedily claiming one of the uninhabited stalls as her own. She locks the metal door behind her and stands on the toilet, her clothes falling like gothy rain to the floor. Even her piercings and boots come off to rest with the other black pieces of clothing, counting on the chaos outside to keep the attention of the other occupants. (4 successes to disappear from sight in the stall)

Arturo glances around the bathroom in which the small group is holed up in. He casually throws his jacket over his shoulder, and states flatly "I guess we wait till they stop shooting, or someone gives us guns." He takes a breath, followed by an exhasperated sigh, taking note of the panicked nature of most of the denizens in this bathroom.

The waiter drops the youth without further argument, clearly realizing that now is not the time. Instead he reaches inside of his jacket, mirroring the snarl that the other man had given as he draws out a rather shiny, stainless steel butcher knife, taking a step forward as though hoping to follow the youth into battle. He hangs near the bathrooms for a bit, though, waiting to see Devon's reaction to his own wish to take the initiative.

Nodding once to the bartender in obvious recognition, 'Devon' glances towards three other men who have come from the back. Studying the room with a critical eye, paying special attention to the line of bouncers, he asks in a rather feminine tone, "Do you know what's going on? Who is attacking us?" The words come out in a silky and silvery tone, willowy frame partially protected by the bar itself. Turning to look at Elijah for a moment, Morgan's voice states stoically, "Just don't die.", before facing forward once more.

Arturo idly tends to his nails, brushing them on his shirt, and polishing them as he reclines against the bathroom sink. He glances around the room nonchalantly, paying no special mind to anyone, but getting a feel for who has taken his road of retreat as well. He seems to stay silent, but calm, as he is away from the fray.

Elijah nods and his breathing begins to slow as he regains his composure, the hand holding the butcher knife falling to his side as he mills about next to Morgan. His silver-green eyes turn towards one of the bouncers, and he asks in an unobtrusive voice "Anyone got a spare gun I can use? I've used them before." Each of his movements are carefully guided and dexterous, far different from the waiter's usual sloppy, formless gait. He doesn't respond to Morgan, and doesn't speak further, merely waiting for a reply to his question.

Turning and looking over his shoulder, one of the bouncers does a double take before bowing his head slightly, "Its Rodriguez.." When Elijah asks for a gun he's blown off, though the head bouncer taps three men on the shoulder and upnods to the bartender before gesutring towards Devon. "He's got least a dozen of them out there and they're ripping the bitch-boys apart.." Gesturing towards Elijah as he says this.

Nodding in a solemn manner, Morgan says to the bartender in an offhanded manner, "He's my brother's. Apparently he plans to make sushi while we wait to be trampled due to invalids. Is there anyone else in the communal who can come out? Or are we it?" Glancing to the tables, she turns to the three other vampires. "We need cover. If you can, gets those out of the floor and in front of us. And for the love of god, don't trip."

Elijah frowns but chooses not to respond verbally. Instead he sheaths his butcher knife inside of his jacket and walks towards a nearby table, grabbing it with both hands before pulling up, knuckles turning white. A loud wrenching sound can be heard before the entire table is torn from the ground, and the scrawny waiter easily carries it back to the bar and sets it down, the large part of it placed to shield the front of the bar area. Elijah pulls his jacket from his body and reaches up, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand, breathing heavily. After the jacket is taken off he grabs a stool and breaks a bottom piece off of it, into a makeshift stake, which he slides into his pocket. His shoes can be heard across the dance floor again, 'clickety-clack', before he goes to work pulling another table out of the floor.

The Brujah shrugs as he looks back at Devon, "There's no pack on hand, I'm the , these are my boys. We're it for this place." The three others move to do as they're told. The tables are ripped up and thrown down with everyone going to take cover behind them, at the same time the doors and iron wrout gates are smashed inwards as ten militant looking thugs come in and take up position while an attractive muscular man of mexican decent with a crisp military cut hair and matching goatee enters. Dressed in blue jeans, a tank top, and a short sleeve unbuttoned bowling shirt he has a desert eagle lazily in his left hand. "Good Evening."

Seeming vaguelly impressed by the effort, Morgan nods to Elijah and the others as they passes by. "So, what would you do?" One eyebrow arching slightly, she glances at the bartender, though there's no time for an answer as Rogiriguz and his men enter. Morgan observes them carefully, body covered but eyes still peering with an unblinking gaze. There's obvious effort within the gaze, the priestess obviously trying to get a read on what the group of anarchs have planned. She remains silent, though.

After setting down another table, Elijah raises a hand to his forehead to wipe more sweat away, watching Morgan closely. His breath comes in quick, heavy gulps, and he turns as the men enter, eyes going wide. He ducks behind the tables and pulls the stake from his pocket, staring down at the wooden weapon with a frown. "Fuck! What am I supposed to do with this? Wait till they run out of ammo?"

The Brujah stands there with his arms crossed as Rodriguez enters, while his men level at the other, "Get the fuck out of here Rodrigue we've left you alone.." He is immediately cut off as Rodriguez calls out, "Bullshit, you need to start though." Bringing the hand with the pistol up he levels it like a pointing finger, "You need to remember California ain't Sabbat fucking territory this ain't Mexico motherfucker. This is an Anarch Free State. /The/ Anarch free state." Growling the Brujah-anti unfolds his arms, "You insolent little.." Before the statement even ends Ordriguez turns into a blur of motion, a second later the lower half of the man's Brujah-anti's jaw has been ripped off, and jammed into his eyes "Don't be trying that Presence bullshit on me either!" He shouts at the other as he crumbles to his knees, Weapons cock and prepare to fire on all sides as Nines says flatly, "This shit keeps up, I'll be back, and I'll fucken finish what we started here.." Then the Anarch Warlord's men open fire on the bar itself, ignoring the barricade and those behind it before simply turning to walk out, leaving hte other vampire in Torpor.

Watching the entire scene play out, Morgan's expression remains neutral, though her eyes burn with anger at the Anarch's words and actions. Rodriguez's knowledge and abilities are obviously being carefully studied and memorized, the information valuable for a later date. A frown tugging at the corners of her rosy lips, she shakes her head sadly at her fallen brethren, walking over to him in a calm manner. His injuries are analyzed, though she turns away at one point to call out to the remaining three vampires, "I'm going to take him into the back and see what I can do to help him. The rest of you, get the bodies out of the way and then come join me. The last thing we need is to have the cops sticking you into nice, sunny jail cells." Her tone is calm, each word carefully measured so that it holds the right amount of both authority and understanding. Her eyes continue to hold a note of sympathy, though she makes no apologies. Turning to Elijah, she instructs him, "Get everyone out of the bathrooms once these three", she gestures to the other vampires, "Are out of sight."

Elijah stares as the man's jaw is ripped from his face, though he doesn't betray any signs of fear, the burn of the blood still coursing through his veins. He stands after it is all over and does as he's told, moving towards the bathrooms after the other three have gone out of sight. He pushes the doors open, (after leaving the stake at the bar), and peeks his head into either bathroom. "Everything's cool. You can all come out." The waiter reaches into his jacket after walking towards the bar again, stowing the butcher knife behind the bar, the prospect of cops finding him armed unpleasant.

Finding herself back in the stall she had recently vacated, Ella begins to tug on her clothes in a harried manner all while peeking through the small cracks between the stall's frame and door. She draws in a deep breath and drags her twitching fingers through her glossy hair once finished, her eyes blinking rapidly as she does so. Once finished, she decides to clamor up onto the toilet itself, sitting perched with her rear on the back and her booted feet on the seat, waiting. Once the all clear has been sounded, she unlocks her door and strolls out, her gaze flickering jerkily from side to side as she does so.

Arturo glances out the door, and grabs his jacket from the sinktop noting the violence has stopped. He strolls casually into the proper of Hades, glancing around at the mayhem, and the casualties. "Holy shit…" he declares quietly, barely out of the bathroom door.

Crouching down beside the fallen Brujah, both of Morgan's arms reach out and slip under the larger figure's torso so that his torso draped over her broad shoulder, his sheer size making is somewhat awkward for her to walk. However, she manages to do so with poise, her body flowing with liquid grace. Once she reaches the door to the back room, she slips through it and makes certain to close it firmly shut behind her. Once in the barrick-like area, she walks past the lines of cots until the furthest one in the very corner is reached. The man is placed carefully onto the bed, the youthful figure having to bend over in order to deposit him. Once the bulk of his form is laid flat, his legs are lifted up and placed on the mattress as well. Now that the man is settled, her attention turns to his injuries, eyes studying them with obvious knowing. Her arms reach out to remove the jaw, though pause in mid-air, obviously realizing that any tampering might do more harm than good.

Elijah follows Morgan as she carries the large man, his silver-green eyes turning for a moment to stare at the people filing out of the bathrooms. He steps inside behind the group, keeping close to Morgan as he slides his hands into his pockets, trying to look casual even as he moves with unnatural grace. The waiter makes sure to stay out of the way, standing a couple feet off as Morgan looks over the injured man's wounds. "Is he dead?"

Ella follows the other frightened and bewildered goths out of the restrooms, her expression more a mixture of thoughtful and quizzical than anything else. Her head tilts back to stare at the ceiling at first, the red streaks noticeably missing from her head of hair. Crinkling her nose, she begins to assess the damage to her surroundings, her fingers tracing various bullet holes as she idly passes them as if gauging their size for future reference.

Arturo seems to move through the crowd, trying to find someone who knows what is going on. He approaches one of the remaining bouncers in the club, talking with him and gesturing to the front. "Is it safe to leave, cause I don't wan t to be here for the after show." He states in an emotionless tone.

Having carried the Brujah into the back room before the others began to file out of the bathrooms, Morgan has had time to sit down on the cot next to the mutilated vampire. Her hands, stained with vitae, rest neatly in her lap and her eyes study the figure with deep concentration. Nothing is said as the other vampires enter the room, only choosing to speak after Elijah joins them. "No Elijah, he's in torpor. It's like a coma for vampires. He'll stay like this until his body has healed enough for him to awaken." Though directed towards Elijah, the words are said facing the still figure on the bed. Her tone is as even, silky-smooth and self-assured as ever. Head turning slightly to look at the three others, she adds, "Once he awakens I can attempt to repair him as best I can. If I try anything now, he might meet his Final Death." Face still calm in expression, the sorrow enters her gaze once again, though it remains there alone.

Elijah settles on a cot on the other side of the mutilated man, letting out a heavy breath as his body winds down, hands planted comfortably on his own knees. "Oh." He replies simply, staring in fascination at the torpored man. His silver-green eyes flash up for a moment, offering the youth a cursory glance. Upon noticing the sorrow in the woman's features he looks away, gazing at the other three vampires now.

As the crowd of people seem to be surging towards the exit, Ella hangs back, whether to get a better look at the crime scene or to keep from getting trampled is anyone's guess. She makes the most of her time by peering at various places that were mutilated by bullets and inspecting the puddles of blood without actually touching the crimson goo.

Blinking once, Morgan's eyes return to their usual, steely cold gaze, body shifting position and angling away from the torpored vampire. "When he heals sufficiently to awaken, kindly contact me or my brother, Devon." Her hands unfold now, one sliding down her thigh to reach a cargo pocket in her pants. Unsnapping the top, she reaches in, withdrawing a small square of paper with a phone number neatly printed on it. Arm extending to the nearest of the three, she offers him the paper. "I'll be sure that you're notified should the number change." Once the paper has been accepted, she lowers her arm, enabling her to pinch the snap closed once more. With that, she climbs to her feet. "Make sure he's fed. His body will still be burning vitae even as he heals. If you're unsure of anything, call me. I wish to see our brother healed as much as you do."

Elijah stands just as Morgan does, sliding his hands back into his pockets, posture straight as he moves to follow alongside the angelic woman.

After having seen her fill of the destruction, Ella glances around for any familiar faces. Finding none, she sets her lips into a grim line and proceeds to wander outside the club at the tailend of the frightened guests.

Offering a polite bow to each of the three men, Morgan walks over to the door, moving to open it before pausing. After a moment of inner struggle, one arm reaches behind her to draw a handkerchief from one back pocket. The blue cloth retrieved seems to be a source of confusion, though nothing is said about it as she drapes it over her hand before turning the knob and finally opening the door. Walking through it, out of the back room and into the main room of the club, she leaves it open so that Elijah can follow her out. Never looking over her shoulder, she instead studies the cloth on her hand.

Elijah follows the woman out without a word, watching her confusion with the handkerchief intently. "I bought it for Devon." He says, his voice grim and somewhat deep as he steps towards the woman, pausing at her side. "Although I guess I bought it for you, too. Seeing as how you're one in the same." There's something odd about Elijah's demeanor, the recent truth about his companion clearly disturbing him in some way.

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