ArchivedLogs:Nothing but Trouble

Nothing but Trouble
Dramatis Personae Arturo, Nicoleta, Toma
In Absentia	2014-03-08 After the protest, Arturo goes looking for trouble.
Location <NYC> Down Under - Morningside Heights
Gritty, grimy, with food of questionable origin and unquestionable greasiness, Down Under is nevertheless a place to drink. That is about all that can be said for it -- that and it is a place to drink if you are short on cash. As such, it is frequently frequented by college students and those looking simply to get Very Drunk. For those none too concerned about the quality of their booze, this is the place to go. When the beast inside him gets its blood up, it's very hard for Arturo to push it back down again - not without giving the dog a bit of a run. His bullet-grazed shoulder has been patched up. He fled the scene before the ambulances pulled up. Cowardly? Perhaps. And that's another reason his inner dog is restless. Normally, he goes to great lengths to cover up his obvious mutations. Either that, or he activates his camoflauge ability so that he blends into the crowd. Tonight? He wants to be noticed. His hair is tucked behind his lupine ears, revealing them clearly when they're usually covered by his dark curls. His shirt cuffs are rolled up to the elbow, revealing fine fur in place of arm hair. His top collar buttons are also undone, likewise revealing the fine fur. He shrugs on his peacoat (the hole in the arm not yet mended) and heads out of his apartment. Doctor Ridley is looking for trouble tonight, which is why he finds himself Down Under. He pushes open the door to the bar and promptly shrugs off his coat. The bar's mostly empty, at the moment -- maybe seven or eight patrons when Arturo pushes his way in. A small group of three or four college kids, laughing loudly in the corner; a regular here or there -- a group of rough looking older men playing pool in the back. There's a television set on, in the background -- currently, it's playing one of the constant 'Human First' campaign commercials that have been running for over a year, now -- encouraging mutants to go do their duty and get registered. Several pairs of eyes swoop up from the bar and lock on Arturo as he steps in; a sort of quiet settles over the bar -- kind of like how, in those old West movies, the whole barroom got quiet when the mysterious stranger entered. 'Cept, in this case, the quiet only lasts for about three or four seconds before -- everyone just goes right back to drinking. Well, almost everyone; one of the men near the back of the room playing pool is staring at Arturo, a slightly goofy grin beginning to emerge on his face as he waits his turn to shoot. This feels strange. Arturo feels so exposed. It takes all of his self control not to reach up and tug his hair back down over his ears or to activate his ability so that he just blends in with the crowd. When everyone goes silent for that brief few seconds, his stomach starts to flutter, half with fear and half with excitement. When it comes to nothing, he exhales. He heads over to the bar and leans on it. "Hey, can I get a beer? Whatever's dark and on-tap." He feels eyes on him and looks back towards the pool table. The man grinning gets a brief look before he looks away. The bartender grumbles, but provides said beer. Cheap, tastes like pisswater -- and you can bet your bumpkiss it's going to be offered in a dirty glass. The man who's still waiting his turn to play pool is starting to sashay over, though -- despite a few looks from his friends, all of whom seem quite content to just leave the man with dog-ears be. "Holy shit," the older pool player says, about five yards behind Arturo. "It's fuckin' /Goofy/!" Emerging from the two bathrooms, are two figures. Who, look rather similar though not identical. Because they're twins. The Lupei Twins were lucky to actually get into the bar without being ID checked at all, though this is..pretty much pissing Nicoleta off right now. Mainly because her drinking will be ruined by fucking bigots. Toma, on the otherhand, is kind of..nervous. Not that he's unprepared if something goes down, the man possessing a few special..weapons in his satchel over his arm, as they return to their seats on the bar, Toma next to Arturo, Nicoleta next to Toma. They don't actually look at him, though Nicoleta maybe tosses glances every now and then as she takes a drink. The twins are matching today! Leather jackets, black undershirts, jeans, boots, kind of..generic, though Nicoleta's hair has red hi-lights, and Toma has purple. They're the 'goth' sort of crowd, some might say. The hairs on the back of Arturo's neck stand up. He ignores the pool player for a moment, taking the time to swallow a mouthful of beer. Then he turns and arches his brows. "Goofy has floppy ears, jackass. Mine are more like the German shepherd from All Dogs Go to Heaven. If you're going to mock me, best get your imagery right." He gives a smile that shows off his pointed canines, then his back on the man. He gives the twins a glance and a half-nod, but otherwise pretends to be minding his own business. The man's pool buddies are starting to sit up and take notice, now; the one who was about to make a shot is frowning; two of the other guys are scowling, both stepping up behind the Man Who Wants Trouble. One of his friends is reaching out for his shoulder -- "Jesus, Bill, just--" "Naw, naw," Bill says, laughing a little bit -- it's clear fro his breath that he's had a few -- and it's clear from his demeanor that he's been losing the pool game, which has probably put him in a foul mood. He's /also/ probably just a jackass. "It's fine, guys, I'm just havin' a chat with a celebrity over here -- you give out autographs, Goofy?" Bill continues, ignoring Arturo's point regarding floppy ears versus standing up ears. "My kids love that shit." The twins get a few side-long glances -- particularly from the bartender. Bill doesn't take notice, but the pool players are starting to square up behind him; /they're/ not looking for trouble, but now that trouble seems to be arriving, they're eyeing up everyone around them to figure out who's on who's side. So far, it looks like everybody's on whatever side Arturo /isn't/ on. Arturo hears the sound of scraping chairs and gets the sense there's more than just Bill and his buddy behind him. He swallows a few large mouthfuls of his beer, then stands up and turns around. "If you want to do this, I suggest we do it outside. No use spoiling the evening of these fine folks." His tone of voice is calm, but there's something more than a little wild in his eyes. Sadly, the twi- okay Nicoleta isn't quite a fine folk. She's eying the fight, and siding next to Arturo..solely because he's alone and being outnumbered is more of a rush anyways. Toma finishes his drink, sighs, and approaches behind Nicoleta, definitely..concerned but there's pretty much no way to stop her now. Nicoleta's calling out, Romanian accent in her voice. "Yo, fuckers. Give the man a break, jesus fucking christ. He's just trying to get a fucking drink.". And yes, she's aware her words are going to start trouble. "Goddammit, Bill, just--" Whatever the guy behind Bill was about to say, Bill cuts him off -- when Nicoleta speaks. His eyes swing to the girl, eyebrows crunching together in an expression best described as 'indignant confusion'. "--th'fuck? You some sort of mutie-lover, now? Last time I checked, beastiality's still against the law here, sugar-tits." Bill's eyes swing back to Arturo, at the baring of those teeth -- and he grins: "Boy, I ain't scared of a fuckin' mutt. Why don't you be a good dog and heel before I re-enact Old Yeller on your sorry ass? If you're good, I'll even throw in a Scooby Snack." "I wasn't aware that New York had a redneck minority. You all should try and elect your own city counsellor. Make sure your bigoted, backcountry ways are represented at all levels of government." Arturo steps a little closer to Bill. "Bad thing for you? If I'm a fictional dog, I'm fucking Cujo." And then he lets off an inhuman, threatening snarl. He flexes his fingers. "Ladies, I appreciate the backup, but this is between me and Deliverance Bill, here." He nods to them both. "That goes for everyone else. Do you really want to make a mess of your evening because your buddy here doesn't know when to back down?" At the ladies comment, Toma is..frowning. "I'm actually a guy, though I can get the mistake! I mean I am..physically female and all that bu-.". Nicoleta growls at her twin. "TOMA SHUT UP.". For a split second, she actually forgets what's going on, before she turns back to Bill. "Okay, you listen here, and you listen real good, cocksucker. There's three of us against you. Three. Now, this..seems outnumbered it probably is, but I can assure you, it's not going to be an easy fight if you go this route. Care to fucking dance?". At this time, Toma's reaching into his bag to..grab several somethings. "Jesus fuck," one of the men exclaims at the sound of Arturo's snarl; even Bill steps back, eyebrows shooting up, apparently taken aback by -- that sound. Maybe he figured Arturo was all bark and no bite; HA. Get it? "Bill, this ain't--" "Fuck this," Bill shoots back, glancing at the twins -- then back at Arturo -- and then... SWOOSH. He takes two good solid steps back before bringing the pool cue around, thick end first, aiming to SMASH it across the side of Arturo's head -- possibly break it into a series of splinters. "/Bad/ dog. Get the /fuck/ outta my bar--" The room erupts into chaos. The bartender moves immediately for the nearest phone; the college kids in the booth are booking it for the exit. The pool players grumble as one, but are reaching for their own cues -- there's four total, including Bill. Three of them armed with cues (including Bill). Although one of them -- the one without any pool stick -- is stepping back farther than the rest, reaching into his jacket, eyes narrowed. "Sorry, I do try to be sensitive about gender identity. I'm just a little distracted, no offense," says Arturo to Toma. "I...---" And then it's pool cue across his face. His head snaps around and blood starts to form on his forehead from where the worst of it connected. He is tougher than your average human, or your average dog, for that matter. Still hurt like a son of a bitch, though. He doesn't waste any time reaching for the remnant of the cue in Bill's hand. If he doesn't let it go, he moves to jam the butt of it against the man's stomach. Then he swings a punch that, if it connects, packs the power of a heavyweight boxer. He follows that up by a solid kick to the man's calves. It's all he can do to not howl in delight. Instead, he just grins fiercely, canines bared. FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT! This is what Nicoleta likes, as she's drawing a switchblade..which she points at herself. Slicing it through her wrist, she pockets it, as she flicks her wrist, the blood flying out..and pausing. Freezing in mid air, as it begins to form into spheres, a pack to each punch. Nicoleta's loading them off at one of the players, Toma pulling out what was in his bag, vials..of blood (Nicoleta's, to be exact)! Toma is taking two vials, one per hand, and popping the caps off, as the blood flies out, stopping, and not forming into spheres, instead, it's delicately moving like a stream, four, to be exact, each one aimed at a different guy, but they're not moving. "We don't need to fight, alright? No fighting needed at all." 'Bill' finds himself stepping back, winded by the first hit that smashes into his gut -- the cue continuing to splinter as he grunts. He's drunk; he's grouchy; he's kind of old -- all in all, he's not very well suited for a bar fight. Which means the next punch hits right into Bill's jaw, sending him reeling back -- the kick to his calves /almost/ doesn't hit, just because Bill's crumpling so fast. Which means -- two more men are now stepping in to fill the void Bill left, cue sticks in hand! The one on the left finds himself *battered* by flying spheres of blood, crying out in shock -- stumbling backward, waving the cue stick in front of him protectively -- as Toma exposes more streams of blood, extending out to the other man -- and the fourth, who's still stepping back, putting some distance between the three mutants and himself... The bartender is on the phone, dialing 911; the college kids are fucking out of here. The man who's pulling back finally exposes -- a pistol. Swinging it around to point at Nicoleta: "Jesus-fucking-CHRIST what the /FUCK/--" he hollers, before -- *BLAM!* -- opening fire. Guns. Guns weren't on the agenda tonight. Neither was flying magic blood, either. Funny how things turn out. The more his hits land, the more Arturo's beast within wakes up. Bill was too easy. He wants something more. Bullets however, aren't fun. And he's already been shot once today. "Hey, you two. Cover me?" He crouches down, then springs forward and leaps up, ricocheting off a table and coming down on the gunman's arm. His inch-long claws fully extend midair and he aims to rake down the man's arm. As the bullets fly, Nicoleta's attempting to dodge, but is hit square in the arm, more blood flying. "FUCKING HELL, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!". Toma..is pretty upset, whilst Nicoleta is in a sort of psychopathic rage that most people just call 'Nicoleta'. Toma runs over to where she was hit, and grabs the wound. "Fucking..hell. Alright. We got your back.". No regrets in Toma's voice, fuck these guys, as he's tossing a look to Nicoleta. A sort of..thing is happening. It's hard to tell what as it's not visual, but something is happening, as the blood spheres stop..and reconvene into a sort of large mass, the vials joining into them as is some of the blood running down Nicoleta. The trigger that makes this seem strange is the fact Toma's nose is bleeding rather profusely, and the blood burst is launching forward..before seperating into shells of blood, curving. The rounds are each rather large, but aren't hitting. Not until Arturo is out of the way, atleast. Bill is groaning on the floor, trying to crawl away -- so's the compatriot of his that got slammed with the blood bullets initially. The other guy... he's just getting the /fuck/ out of here, cue stick thrown aside, charging for the exit. The bartender remains low, under the bar -- the guy with a gun has been backed into a corner, now forced to face down a snarling, charging Arturo. At the wolf-man's approach, he squeezes off two more shots -- haphazard, a little chaotic -- right before those claws slam down into his arm. He screams as they bite into flesh, slicing through muscle, causing blood to well up; the gun tumbles from his hands as he scurries backward. Staring, vaguely, confusedly, at the swelling mass of blood in the middle of the room... "Ohfuck ohfuck--" When it bursts into shells, the room's full of screaming -- Bill and his friend, still crawling -- the other man, running for the exit -- the gun-man, bleeding and stumbling back against the wall. The bartender's on the phone, hollering something about 'ALL HELL' and 'MUTIES IN MY FUCKING BAR SEND THE FUCKING ARMY AND MARINES'. It's only sheer dumb luck that Arturo avoids being shot twice in one day. It satisfies something deep in the most primal centres of his brain to feel his claws bite through flesh. It feels too good. It's the kind of sensation that can threaten one's humanity. It is only a tiny screaming voice in the back of his head that stops him from mauling the gunman. His pupils have gone to slits and he looks...well, like a wild man. For a moment, he lets the gunman think he /is/ going to maul him, but stops in front of the dropped gun. He kicks it away, snarls, snorts, and then turns away. He glares at the bartender. "The /fucking muties/ just wanted a goddamn beer!" he roars, hopefully loud enough for the 911 operator to hear. He turns back, steps over a downed man and nods towards the siblings. "C'mon. Let's get the hell out of here." Nicoleta likes this man's style. She releases the sphere, and then catches it in mid-air..allowing it to explode into a blood spatter across the room, somehow missing everyone but tinting the walls. "Alright, I'm not fucking waiting for the cops.". Nicoleta's grabbing her twin, taking him by the shoulder, he's...a bit worn out, as they head over to Arturo, Nicoleta grinning as she speaks to him. "Now that? That was motherfucking awesome." The gunman stumbles back on his ass, still clutching at his bleeding arm -- seeping blood -- as he groans and moans, rapidly scuttling backward to press himself against the wall, cowering from Arturo: "Ohgod, ohgod, please--ohfuck, jesuschrist pleasedon't--" But then Arturo is roaring, turning around and moving toward the exit. Bill's managed to crawl his way out the door -- along with his friend, who's getting to his feet, trying to help Bill up -- they both limp out as quickly as they can as they see Arturo and the twins approaching. By now, the only people left are the bartender, Arturo, and the twins -- and the bartender's still on the phone, staying the /fuck/ away from these guys. "--christ send everyone they're just -- there's gunfire and shit /holyshit/ one of them is controlling blood -- no FUCK YOU this is not a prank call--" Arturo looks over his shoulder and yells out in a nasal voice. "Yeah, Marty! He's not buying it! Here, come and have another drink!" He starts to fake-laugh and he gives a look that suggests that the twins do the same. "We get out of here before anyone digs out a machete." He pauses, then goes to drain the last of his left-behind beer. He drops a ten on the bar and picks up his coat. "C'mon." Then he's shouldering open the door, which turns out to be a mistake. One of those shoulders has a bullet wound. Whilst Toma doesn't laugh, Nicoleta's..actually done this shit before, joining in a pretty accurate 'dumbass redneck' laugh. She's trained her whole life for this. Once they actually get outside, the twins not paying shit because the service sucked, Nicoleta's waving a hand to Arturo. "Man, that, again, was awesome. You ever need help wrecking some bigots up..well, maybe I'll be there, iunno. Name's Nicoleta. And..we gotta run now.". Before..even waiting a response, Nicoleta's running off, Toma regaining his footing, as they escape.