Summary:A curse of rage starts a big fight in the Obsidian Club. Priscilla, Daredevil, Eve, and Jimmy intervene. Log Info:Storyteller: Jimmy Baxter |
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Tonight, the Obsidian Club is doing decent business: occupied but not crowded. The two bartenders keep up with orders well enough that Jonesy has time to show off, flipping and juggling bottles before pouring them. A boorish businessman boisterously boasts of closing a deal, a big supply contract with McCabe Industries. He flaunts his flushness enough that both Ruby and Amber sit at his table, pretending to hang on every word. Destinee works her magic up on stage, roughly halfway through her set as she revolves around the pole. Others mill around, playing hostess.
The top headliner for the club is not in the VIP room, or on stage, or moving around the patron tables just now. No, Priscilla Kitaen, aka. Voodoo, is in the back getting into her costume for another round on the main stage, likely to start in another ten minutes when Jenny - aka. Destinee - is finished. The mocha-skinned incredibly curvaceous woman has quite a rep around the club, mostly for being gorgeous, a great dancer, and a lovely and caring human being who tries to take care of everyone she works with.
Once she has her costume set, Pris starts on hair and makeup, while using hands-free mode on her phone to send a text message. "Hi E. Just got to the back, getting changed. Hope everything's going alright? I left a guest pass with Martin out front, so no cover charge if you manage to drop by. Take care."
But Pris' voice trails off, then, as she gets a curious itch, and then sneezes. . o O (Oh, crud. Seriously? That's not E … what's going on?)
If you have to meet a potential client in a strip club, you could do worse than the Obsidian. At least that's how it was described to Matthew Murdock in an eager bid to convince him to come all the way across town. A pair of dancers, a twin sister act, are having a long drawn out dispute with their landlord. One sister heard of Hell's Kitchen's blind lawyer and called. The sisters are from Hell's Kitchen. They want to give back.
So that is why a blind man is sitting at one of the tables alone, looking terribly bored.
"I'm almost there, actually," is what hits Priscilla's phone a moment later. While the club isn't really her kind of scene, her friendship with Priscilla does ensure that she'll turn up from time to time.
She gives a wave to Martin out front — they've met before and he knows her — and pushes on inside. Her late arrival, after the nitial sneeze by Priscilla, is furtther indication that whatever she's sensing, it isn't Eve.
She just got here after all.
Then there's a shift of mood; Voodoo would notice a sense of mystical presence, while everyone can tell that there's a moment of… quiet. The music continues, but the normal people hush for a second.
Then comes a spike of aggression, radiating through the room. Almost every heart in the room hammers with sudden excitement, with adrenaline energetic enough to come out in the scent of their sweat. The strong-willed can ward it off, can keep control over themselves, but not everyone here is so strong-willed. Ruby slams the businessman's head into the table; the bartenders start a fistfight; a squeal comes from backstage as a pair of dancers get into a hairpulling match.
Pris feels the surge of mystical energy, and another sneeze erupts. Then the spike of aggression hits … and Priscilla grips the makeup table until the corner splinters off in her hand. . o O (No! We are not murderrampaging in here!)
The empathic dancer pushes through the aggression, and then turns to face the fight going on right behind her. "Dana, Sara, stop that!" With a sigh, she gets to her feet and forcefully restrains the twins whose existing upset has made things tense to start with, and now they're openly trying to hurt one another. Eventually, unwilling to start sprouting tentacles or extra limbs, Priscilla is forced to unleash her mind's force against the girls, knocking them out to end their rampage before either is seriously hurt.
Of course, that does nothing about any of the rest of the crap going on in the club.
This is a very unfortunate time for Matt Murdock to want to get into a fight. The most obvious is how on earth is the blind guy holding his own in a fight against a nearby patron and one of the bouncers. I mean…he's not gonna come out with a scratch. He didn't feel the energy but he could hear the pounding hearts and smell the sweat. Even on himself. And yeah, that was weird enough. But to also be affected? Shame.
The patron is knocked out easily. The bouncer is putting up more of a fight, putting Matt on the defensive.
Eve arrives, of course, through the looking glass just as the /frigging brawl starts/ and she just kind of winds up staring. Why is there a fight going on. Why is everyone fighting everoyne like this is a camp western?
She has no idea. What she does feel, however, is a pulse of something that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. If she hadn't caught that, she'd surely have gotten caught up in the torrent of aggression that rips through her mind. Her hair seems to stand on its own end, break free of its bunches, before settling back down as she forces herself to step back. Deep breaths, Eve. Don't lose control /this/ easily, amongst this many people.
It would be bad.
/Really/ bad. "WHAT THE FUCK?" she finally says loudly.
Dana and Sara shriek as they slap and pull at each other. "You /knew/ Max is my best regular! You can't go taking someone else's regulars like that!" Even when Priscilla gets a hold of them, they keep on pressing, arms outstretched to try reaching each other and continue the violence; it's not until that psychic pulse, not until they're /forced/ to stop, that they actually do so.
In the main club, the fighting spreads. The bouncer doesn't even realise that Matt's meant to be blind; he just starts swinging, and he growls and grows ever more irritated and angry as he finds he can't land a single punch.
Jimmy had been in the area, walking by, when he gets hit with that wave of anger, enough to make him wince. Anger like that means people are hurting each other. He hurries into the alley, angels up as he steps inside—
And freezes. Oh god this is /that/ kind of a club. That wall over there is pretty interest— no, no, there's erotic artwork there, and even the hanging mirrors just provide different angles on what he's trying to avoid looking at. So, it'll just have to be the ceiling. "No Idea," he tells Eve.
A waitress comes up behind the Elder Goth, swinging the tray right for the back of her head.
That magic is still there, a continuing effect; there's some kind of focus here, an origin point. It seems the only one unaffected is that brash businessman; he radiates fear responses instead, as he tries to fight off Ruby.
Pris lays Dana and Sara down, and sighs, continuing to push back the wave of aggression so it cannot get back inside her skull; feeling it affect everyone else is making that increasingly harder.
Normally when Voodoo comes through that dark curtained archway, she hops up on stage and begins a mystical, magical performance of seduction and sensuality. But right now, she comes out in costume - including six-inch translucent platform stiletto heels - and stands on the main floor, eyes sweeping the area as she tries to get a bead on the source of all that magical energy causing all the aggression … and taking in all of the battles going on. "Oh, crapburgers."
Matt is a little too fast for the slow bouncer. He swings and misses only to be met with a blow to the back of his head. From the top of a table. Damn that guy is agile for a /guy in a suit/. Which is all he is now, really. Obfuscation works both ways sometimes. He is panting, trying to catch his breath. He is also listening. He can still feel the energy, the urge. Maybe, he can locate it.
You know, Eve is pretty much aware of where everyone is at any given time.
That's the advatange of having a sense of life that leads her to whirling around when she senses someone coming up behind her, her hair immediately seeming t4o turn into a series of stretching vines that wrap up, bind up the waitress in question and push her back towards the wall.
Yes, she has viny hair now. What of it? It's plainly inhuman, but then, she's an irritated Elder Goth.
"PRISCILLA."
Jimmy takes a scratching slap across the cheek and stumbles back as he turns his attention on the enraged dancer. Oh god there is /no/ safe place to touch her and hold her off. Best he manages is to lift an arm, using the bar of his forearm against her neck to push back. Though he has the same aggressive effect as others, he also radiates a painful amount of Awkward.
The waitress pushes hard against Eve's vine-hair, but there's no progress. The bouncer goes down hard. But with this many people all fighting, it would be rather difficult to restrain or knock out all of them. A table falls over as the businessman scrambles away, blood pouring from his now-broken nose. While he keeps Ruby off him, Amber comes up behind to kick at his heel and knock him onto his back.
And as he moves, that sense of presence shifts, too, keeping him at the centre. At the opposite end of the spacious warehouse club, a man stops mid-punch, a confused look on his face; emotional momentum only goes so far.
"E! Over here, honey!" Pris shouts out, and then she launches herself into the fray. Pris looks completely improbable — and probably is causing Jimmy's inner censors apoplexy — as she seems intent on engaging in increasingly gyratic acrobatic combat efforts to disarm, distance and subdue folks, all the while hunting down the central node of this effect.
It should be noted that Pris is cheating, monstrously. She is delivering psychic blasts with each punch, kick, elbow or knee strike, hoping to daze, bedazzle or plain KO each target as quickly as possible. Damnit, this is the club where she has felt safe enough to actually stay for over a month; she doesn't want it torn down, shut down, or burned down if she can avoid it!
Well, then.
Eve hears Priscilla's voice and starts to make her way over there, quickly. Her hair seems to…detatch, but then, she already looks perfeftly normal again, even as the vines continue to tangle up the other womank helpelessly. She's already on her way towards Priscilla. She's no fighter, but when she wants to, she can be strong and she can be fast.
She wants to.
She darts over there, eyes wide. Clearly impressed by what Priscilla is doing. "Whoa," she says.
Keanu would be proud of that whoa.
There's something about the anger, too. It's… tinny. It's canned anger. No less intense for those experiencing it, but those /sensing/ it can know: it's all coming from the same artificial place.
Jimmy's eyes go wide when he notices Priscilla, though he dutifully still keeps his eyes up at ceiling level. With a push, he sends his attacker her way, where she can take her down with such ease, or Eve can bind her. The glowing man comes in closer, giving Eve a nod of recognition — still without lowering his eyes. "What Happened? How Did It Start?" After a moment of awkward shuffling, he gets his hand on a waitress' shoulder, pulling her off her current, already out-cold target.
Pris dutifully KOs the waitress she is 'offered,' and a few other targets. This is all reducing the number of affected subjects, which is making it easier to narrow things down on —
"I wasn't in here when it happened. But the mobile point of origin is settled around scuttling guy, right over there." Pris offers, pointing towards Business Dude, whose attacker suddenly develops a case of the 'oooh, pretty birdies' and slumps down to the ground. Just everyone pardon Pris' brightly glowing purple eyes, k?
Eve is, perhaps, a bit concerned for all the unconscious. Let's be honest: it's the kind of thing that can be really bad! But, you know, she can sense their life. Sense that they're /not dead/, and that 's at least gonna have to do for now lest someone get hurt even worse. She takes some time, sprouting more vines, vines erupting from her wrists as blood oozes down them, to again and again take a little time to command them to bind people. Just in case, you know? She can order them let loose later.
But then Priscilla's settled on that 'guy over there', and she's turning her unblinking stare in his direction.
Jimmy nods to Priscilla, turning his glowing gaze to the man. But between Priscilla's clear strength and Eve's vines, they have plenty to handle that; he goes instead behind the bar, pulling the tenders away from each other. They, at least, are not so scantily clad.
Business Dude scrambles back farther, scooting along the floor. One of his brown eyes has been blackened, and he radiates fear as he looks up at Priscilla. Even he can tell that now's not a time to get distracted. "I thought she /liked/ hearing about how I closed that deal!" As if he's completely missed that everyone else around him is in a big fite, too. From this close, Eve and Priscilla can tell that the magic, whatever it was, is centred on him. A spiritual thing perched on his soul, but whispering instead to /everyone else/.
"Evie, keep the others away as best you can." Priscilla murmurs to her blue-haired goth friend. Then she reaches out, her eyes glowing as she peers at the man … through the man. "There's some kind of … entity … riding on this guy. I think that's the focus of the effect." Pris sighs and stalks over towards him. "What deal? What did you do?" she asks. She's considering how to combat something like this. It's not quite possessing him, but it is riding him. And she doesn't have the magical experience to know how to bind it, or release it.
"No shit?" replies the Elder Goth to Priscilla.
She's fine with handling this, really.
A glance at Jimmy, a shrug of her shoulders and then she's whistling sharply, "Anyone still got a problem? If not, settle the hell down or I'll settle you down with a bunch of thorny vines and shit, right?" Blood runs down her arms. The vine-growth from there is not exactly /pleasent/. It literally erupts from her skin.
|ROLL| Jimmy Baxter +rolls 1d100 for: 27
"There's a what?" the man says. He didn't know about any kind of entity. "Oh my god, you mean like a spider? Get it off get it off get it off!" It looks more like a little red imp rather than anything arachnic, but still. He whimpers at the tone of Priscilla's 'what did you do'. "I landed a big supply contract with McCabe, that's all! I don't deserve this! The markup isn't /that/ high!"
Jimmy gets the bartenders both pinned to the wall, a hand on each of their chests. The rest take a look at Eve. Some look like they're about to try for it… but in the end, they think better of it. The anger isn't enough to overpower things like, you know, self-preservation instincts.
"Keep 'em off me, Eve." Priscilla murmurs, as she advances on - stalks towards - Business Dude. "You did something, dumbass. You don't get a passenger like this unless you do something. Agree to something. Try something." That's a voice of experience, there, and so at odds with a mixed-race ultra-curvaceous barely-clad exotic dancer. The guy can be excused for the brain fault of 'WTF' that has to be occurring.
And then Priscilla hops forward and both hands clasp the sides of the man's head. Her purple eyes literally blaze with light … and Pris screams, as the purple claws of her will dig deep into this man's being, seeking out the anchor points of that creature, starting to unwind, twist, tug … sever … separate …
The disturbing thing is the projection of pain and aggressive rage pouring off of Pris right now in waves.
"…whoa," says Eve.
The waves of pain that pour off PRiscilla have her moving up closer to her almost immediately, aiming to catch her, to support her. She seems pained by it herself, of course, and why wouldn't she be?
She's just epxecting whatever it is she's doing to take something out of her, especially after those… those /feels/.
The man goes pale, shaking his head. "I didn't! I /didn't/! I'm just a salesman, here!" He squeaks as she clasps his head, but he's genuine in wanting the infernal thing off him. The imp, however, lashes out: its etheral claws dig more fully into the man's head, and it lets out a shriek of rage, echoed by all the normal people in the club. A dancer with a split lip rushes forwards, swinging a fist at Eve in an ill-fated effort to get past. The imp's threads tighten, fray, and one by one, they snap, the creature coming off the man's head. And those were all the anchors the imp had to this plane; once it's separated, it goes up in smoke. Literally, as it dissipates into nothingness.
With the creature gone, the anger fades, like that emotion's momentum hit a sudden, sharp brick wall. It's replaced by confusion, shock, and horror, as the people don't understand /why/ they'd just been fighting.
Jimmy lets out a breath of relief, slumping slightly forwards now that the emotions are gone. He gives his attention first to Priscilla and Eve, giving the latter a thankful look for helping to support Priscilla. "Are You Well?" Saying 'alright' in that Voice would just sound wrong. He gives a side-glance to Priscilla. "Do You Need—" He slips off his coat and offers it to her. At the same time, he looks around the room. Yes, it's okay to look; he's mentally sorting for triage, not just ogling. Nobody has /horrible/ injuries, but he looks to the bartenders. "Call An Ambulance." No medical emergencies, but they'll need some care.
The effort takes a lot out of Priscilla. As vivacious and full of energy as she usually is, she actually slumps backwards and wobbles on her feet as the imp finally is released, as if with it goes the force of will keeping her fully upright against her exhaustion and the focus of her own determination.
With Eve there, Pris leans into her, as the psychic impressions of the imp, and of the man, swim about in her head. It will take time and meditation to put all of that in order. She glances up over her shoulder at Jimmy, eyeing the jacket curiously. "Need? No, sweetie. Usually this is just my starting costume. Most of the night I don't even wear this much." Pris can tell something is 'up' with Jimmy, but she's choosing not to ask, just as she hopes most will ignore what she was up to earlier.
"I think I need a break. Evie, honey, table please." Pris murmurs.
"…yeah, okay," says Eve, glancing at Jimmy. There is a helpless shrug but then she's moving Priscilla over to a table and fetching her some water.
No doubt, police and EMS will be here soon enough and she so does not want to be caught up in that if she can help it.
Jimmy nods to Eve. "Be In Touch." With that, he leaves the club. The bartender makes the call, and the ambulances will soon arrive for those that need their attention. In all the confusion, it'd be easy for an Elder Goth to slip away before anyone starts asking her any difficult questions.