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Realistic or Modern Hell's Eagles

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Tony Eagle
"All truth in the world are told by stories, and yet it seems everyone tells their own stories inside their own heads. Stories make us what we are, and we build ourselves from the stories we weave..."

There were very few things Tony enjoyed more than riding towards his hometown while the sun set on the world. This was a new love for him, one that had developed as he aged. When he was younger there was nothing worse than being tied to a person or a place. But as he started to get on in years he began to develop a love for his home and his family-though his biological family was nowhere to be seen. When he was in high school his parents abandoned him and took his sister with them, leaving him the house and a bike to call his own. They never returned to him, but ever since that day he had made his own way, eventually founding Hell's Eagles several years ago.

Of course, he was never lonely. His family had always been his gang. Many of them looked up to him like a father figure, and while he was quietly flattered by it, he never gave anyone anything but tough love (there were a few exceptions, but he would deny them if they were ever brought up). His two story (and a basement) house had been transformed into the headquarters of Hell's Eagles five years back, but it had been a place where many of his friends and "family" had come to live over the last decade and a half. Some of them crashed there when they needed a place to rest, or would hide there when they started pissing off local cops a bit too much. There had been some kids who had done bad things, and Tony Eagle had no problem hiding them and helping them get back on their feet-provided they did something for him too.

He had never been the type that needed anything upfront before he helped someone. There were several times he found people on his doorstep that were desperate for help with nothing to offer. He would take them in, get them fed and rested, and use their talents for personal use or for the glory of his small gang he was starting. Though officially Hell's Eagles was about 5 years old, he had started amassing a group over ten years ago, and only formally gave them a name at the turn of the decade. They had done some petty crimes, and they had done some heavy crimes, but through it all there was no closer group on the planet than Tony and his Eagles. He was proud of all of them, and as he saw his 44th birthday on the horizon, he began to take less and less trips away from home, and spent more time in Jacksonville with the heart of his gang.

His Harley Glide jetted through the roads entering Jacksonville as he made his way towards the Wheel. It had become an epicenter of activity for the gang; the bartender knew them well enough that they hardly ever needed to pay for drinks and their usuals were almost always ready before they even walked in. Tony made an effortless turn into the town through a very sharp and narrow road. For most people it would take a great deal of talent to make that turn-but for Tony Eagle, someone who had been riding since he was 13, it was child's play. Most of his gang were very talented riders, and even the least competent of them could lose almost anyone on their bike if they needed to.

He pulled up to the Wheel as darkness began to settle upon the small town. Evening rides around Jacksonville had become a routine for Tony over several months, and while to the public it might have looked like him marking and securing his territory, for him it was a pure joyride. He had never lost a love for the ride, and while he normally wasn't an intentionally nasty person, his love of the fight and his desire to protect his freedom made him a force to be reckoned with in any brawl. He was 43 now, yet he could still toss someone two decades younger out a window if the mood hit him. He got off his bike and headed inside.

He grabbed a booth in their usual spot, seeing a few members already in the bar and assuming others would come in late. It was a Thursday night, and he had called a meeting at this very spot due to the strange occurrences that had been happening around town. He took a seat with his usual rum and coke, and began to drink as he waited for the rest of the gang to show up. He thought about what had been going on of late...disappearances, strange people coming into town, a new fear of the night from the town's populace. It was all a little strange, and it spoke of something darker. People had began to point fingers at the obvious threat-the biker gang that took residence in the town. It wasn't like there hadn't been a disappearance caused by Hell's Eagles before, but they were always careful. They were precise with their targets, and they were experts at keeping attention away from them. Someone wanted them out of Jacksonville, and Tony wasn't going to have it. This was their territory, and he was damned if he was going to let someone frame Hell's Eagles. He would die before he saw his gang, his family, taken away from their home.


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Chachi Rodriguez

"And you think I'm gonna leave, leave my home? Nice try motherfucker but it's not happening." Chachi spoke a soft, raspy voice, her tone was monotone which left the man in her house with frustration and uneasiness in his stomach. He spoke of how he was only delivering some papers that show she will lose the house if she wasn't able to make at least 2,000 dollars in a month. Chachi rolled her eyes, opening a coke bottle, staring at the man in irritation.

"And do you think I'm able to do that in that amount of time. Huh? Mr. I only am the messenger." The 'messenger' man continued his lecture about the house, the money, and her losing everything if she doesn't fix this. She scoffed drinking from her coke bottle, a smirk etched upon her face as she nodded to every word that came from his mouth. She went into the living room grabbing her large sweater and put it over her tank-top and shorts outfit, it had now looked like a dress on her. She took her a pair of sunglasses and keys, returning to her foyer, smiling at the poor man before her.

"I am so sorry to inform you that I have to so desperately leave you at this moment." She said with fake disappointment, of course not mentioning that she had a meeting which figured the man would be afraid of. As well as a meeting she was already late for, as usual, putting on her sunglasses, twirling her key on her finger Taking one last sip from her coke she had set down before getting her things, now opening the door she looked back at the man one last time. "Lock the door behind when you leave. Oh..and don't let it hit you on the ass on the way out." She slammed the door shut, hoping it had made him jump out o0f his skin. She was in a mood to piss people off because she was pissed off. So in conclusion, she decided to walk all the way to her destination and enjoy the now night sky of her hometown.
....
Pushing the doors open to the Wheel, besides the loud sound of the door hitting the walls, her small stature had caused her attention. She knew the locals in the town saw her smaller size as odd for her to be a part of the Hell's Eagles, but why wouldn't she be? They had done more for her than anyone in this town had ever done. Especially, Tony which at the moment she had seen him in the bar, her heart sank to her stomach. Even the expectant attitude to her being late she still felt guilt in being so. She took a seat next to Tony at the booth, she ran her fingers through her hair and leaned back making eye contact with the older man. She smiled playing with a spoon on the table," Evening Tony..."
 
The Reaper
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"I cut down everything in my path."​
Reid had spent the afternoon working on her bike. She wanted it to go faster, especially on the turns, and she was determined to fine-tune everything she could about the engine and the controls before moving onto the tires.

The gang had stolen an old jukebox from a restaurant that shut down a few years back, and Reid had insisted on putting it in the garage so she could play music while she worked. She also had several reference books piled on the table and open to various pages- diagrams and articles and instructions, explaining the stuff she didn't know. The more time passed, the better she got with bikes, but her thing had always been cars and she often needed to look stuff up.

She ground her teeth as she worked, routinely shaking her head to flick her hair out of her face. Some weird shit had been happening in town lately, and something about it seriously bothered her- it was like a constant itch at the back of her mind. Not only were there weird disappearances happening at night, and people were getting scared, but evidence was starting to point back to them, and she wasn't about to take that.

Tony had called a meeting at the Wheel to talk about all of this, and he was probably already there. Reid put the finishing touches on the day's progress and pushed back from her bike. She got up, joints protesting slightly, and walked over to the jukebox to shut off the music, replacing her tools on the table. Well, more like piling them haphazardly- she wasn't much for being meticulous and organized.

She washed her hands summarily- enough to get the worst of the grease stains off, at least, and grabbed her gear. Closing the garage door behind her, the Reaper hopped on her bike and took off, tell-tale sound of the Ducati's engine announcing her passage.

She parked the bike in her usual spot upon reaching the Wheel and strolled in, making a beeline for their usual booth, where Tony and Chachi were already seated. She waved in passing at Madz, who was working the bar, knowing the girl would notice and bring over her usual order. She sat herself down in the booth, her expression dark.

"So what're we gonna do about this, Tony?" she asked, playing up her New York accent. "It don't sit well with me, these rumors been goin' around- think the Crims are behind it?"

She definitely woulnd't put it past them- the Crimson Scorpions weren't remotely above playing dirty, going around town messing with people and then making it look like the Eagles were responsible- it was exactly their M.O. Reid scowled and glared over at the bar, wondering what was taking so long.

Christ, she thought, I need a drink.
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Samuel Lee Thomas

There was one thought.

If all of his existence could be unified; brought together and spun into some fucked, drunken semblance of a concept, there was one thought that could pretty much summarize what Samuel Lee Thomas felt in that moment:

Ow.

It was no overwhelming pain. No soul-rending, existentially-crushing depression like he'd used to feel in the past, or the bone-crushing, breath-depriving bruises of today's escapades: it was a mild pain, and yet one so interlaced with the forefront of his existence, that he couldn't help but focus on anything but it.

It had been... what, a decade? Ten years? Eleven? Time could be so confusing, when you were in the land of the free.

"Hnnngh..." A kaka sound rang through the empty room, as the crickety bones in Samuel's spine protested his movement to the side. He moaned again, in quiet and soft pain, then breathed out shakily, trying not to move again, lest he upset his capricious skeleton even more. "I hate living."

Samuel - the Big Breaker - focused all his willpower into a single manifestation of its prodigious might. He poured every slab of muscle, and every last bit of force his gnashing bones could generate into a single instant, managing to sit up on the bed, barely; even once his elbows and hands joined to provide additional leverage to the ungodly movement.

Last night was fucked. Beer, rum, smokes... cocaine, maybe? Sam wasn't even sure what the fuck he took, only that it ended in a bar fight of the ages. He'd actually lost some memories of the event, which suggested either inebriation beyond the call of duty, or blunt force trauma to the cranium. He wasn't sure which option he preferred.

It took another half a minute to get out of bed, shower as was customary for him to do on the morning - correction, upon looking at the window: late evening - following a drunken brawl, and then check his wounds as he did so.

There was a bruise; painful, but diminished when undisturbed, right under his left armpit, near one of the ribs. It wouldn't prove to be a problem. Other than that, he was in the clear. Thankfully.

Samuel sighed out in relief, letting the lukewarm juices of bodily refurbishment lather over his back, washing away the fatigue of yesterday. Actually...

What the fuck even happened yesterday? What bar was he at? The Wheel?... Maybe; maybe not. He'd... he'd have to ask, either Tony or the barman... Was Tony even there, when it happened? Samuel wasn't sure, which made him even more worried.

Tony, I love you, but sometimes... I fucking hate you, too.

Tony Eagle. The leader of Hell's Eagles - a little bit of a narcissistic prick, to begin with; naming a fucking gang after himself, but the name eventually grew on Sam. And so did Tony.

It started out as nothing but a sort of alienated, doubting friendship. A brewsky shared over there, a story over here; under the common provenance of a bicycle and leather jacket. A meeting by accident, a friendship by choice.

And yet, Tony had a decade of life on Samuel. This came in the form of advice; wording from an elder, a story of caution, a tale of wonder and marvelous fun. Something ingrained in the human genetic code made Samuel, too, convinced that Tony was someone extraordinary because of all this. If not for his life's experiences, then because he chose to share those experiences with his proverbial 'lesser.'

The alienated, doubting friendship eventually, but quickly, bore an unspoken depth; a bond, deeper than words or actions, and Samuel found himself thinking of Tony in the same breath as he thought of the words 'older brother' or 'estranged uncle.'

He laughed at that.

Tony always was one to take in random people from the street. The 'strays.' Actually, the 'Strays' wouldn't have been a bad back-up name for their gang.

After all, he'd taken in Tara and Ramsey. He took in Chachi and Reid, although a bit late in their growth. Samuel wasn't sure if he didn't share the experience, but perhaps in a different way than the others: he was a decade older than most of the gang's members, or at least with a five-year advantage, or more; although, he only really ever rembembered Tara as a little girl that visited their doorstep; even Ramsey was fifteen or sixteen at the time they found him.

Tony, though, had over a decade on Samuel in turn. If Tony was the father, then maybe Samuel was the big brother, and Tony was his big brother, even if that didn't make much sense.

Then again, nothing did. Free country, free life.

Finding himself perky from the hungover musings and morning late evening shower, Samuel stepped into the Wheel, emitting constant grunts to some of the patrons who greeted him. Tony called them here on business - and business would be done. After grabbing his usual - a glass of vermouth with a fluid ounce of Old Tom gin and a dash of vodka, rum and ice, which formed a mutated precursor to what most people called a 'martini' - he plopped down over next to the rest of the gang, nodding to Tony, Reid, and Chcachi in turns.

"Evening, man and girls," Breaker greeted, lifting his cup to take the first sip of the night; though he didn't intend to drink much, as most people familiar with him would know he was in the habit of when hungover. He spoke, after that, more directed at Reid than anyone else, "Now, we've all heard the rumors, but I think it'd be best for the rest of the gang to show up, before we discuss in detail. Be kinda silly to go over that, only to repeat ourselves over and over."

Saturn_moon Saturn_moon Ayama Ayama .V1LLAINISM._ .V1LLAINISM._ HarryPlopper HarryPlopper Nightwalker973 Nightwalker973 SparrowVale SparrowVale Inheritance Inheritance
EDIT: Fucked up the names a little, because I came home drunk, but I fixed it.
EDIT2: Then again, I guess that's only proper. "Live what I preach," and all that, given this is a roleplay about drunkard brawlers fighting vampires and... well, I didn't fight any vampires tonight, but the first part counts.
 
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Madeline Lashae

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The Wheel was an anarchic mess of a bar that loomed just on the edge of Jacksonville. Its customers were mostly regulars, townsfolk who have been patronizing the place for years and one rarely saw a new face in the crowd. The few that wandered in often turned on their heels and left the same way they had entered before the weathered doors could even shut behind them. Inside, it was gloomy, dimly illuminated by age-speckled lights that looked like they hadn’t had a good dusting in a long time, and perpetually smelled of stale cigarettes. The paint work crumbled on touch and if you just so happened to brush against any wooden surfaces with your bare skin there was good chance you were going to end up with a splinter. It was the kind of place where anything and everything could happen. It did however have one saving grace. The Wheel actually had a solid selection of quality drinks that they served for cheap. There really wasn’t another place in town you could get a draft for a freaking dollar.

Despite being incredibly and gloriously shitty, Madeline loved everything about the bar. It was the first place she’d come to when she found herself in Jacksonville two years ago, lost and hungry. She’d thrown everyone present for a loop when she actually took a seat instead of running for the hills. It was also where she’d run into Tony... If she was being honest, she still had no idea what had compelled her to join Hell’s Eagles back then. She had a decent life in Portland and was far from the type to break rules. Heck, she helped make the rules for god’s sake. Maybe it was a desire for change or just the thrill of the unknown, but whatever it was she chose to stay and her life was turned around one-eighty.

The Wheel was busier than usual for a Thursday night. Laughter overpowered the jukebox and overlapping conversations swirled through the dirty cloud of smoke. Madeline was busy preparing a string of orders when she noticed Tony enter and take a seat at the gang’s usual booth. Without having to ask, she made his usual rum and coke with three shots and handed it to one of the waitresses to bring it over to him. Tony had called for a meeting to discuss the recent disappearances that had been taking place across town, specifically those that they had nothing to do with. First it had been the grocer then it was the real estate agent. No one knew why or how. They simply disappeared one night. Now, rumors had been going around that this was their handiwork. Although there was no evidence to link the cases to them, Madeline had been with the Legislative Council long enough to know that it often didn’t matter if the accused had enough of a record and between all of them… well, let’s just say any judge would have easily passed judgement without a second thought.

Soon, the other members started to file in through the door. She quickly finished up her remaining orders and removed her apron. “I’m going to take my break.” She told the other guy stationed at the bar with her before picking up a tray of drinks and bringing it to the booth.

She placed a White Russian in front of Chachi then, with a pointed glare, slid a single glass of Kraken over to Reid. Madeline knew the woman could and would prefer to down an entire bottle, but she also knew she had ridden here on her bike and so help her she wasn’t going to let any of them ride back inebriated. She now turned to Sam and immediately plucked the drink out of his hand, replacing it with a shot glass containing a single raw egg yolk, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco, black pepper and salt; A prairie oyster. “Unless you would like to wake up with another hangover tomorrow, I recommend you down this first.” She then slid in to the booth with her own drink in hand. A glass of water. Madeline had a personal rule to never drink on the job. It was hard enough dealing with the creeps while sober.

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The Wight
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"Balance real and virtual- or else."​
Ramsey was woken by the growling of his stomach. This was followed by groans and grumbles and a series of weird stretches- something halfway between a cat and a broken marionette. He pushed backwards and sat down on his ankles, blinking around blearily. His room was the same as always- murky, messy, blinds drawn. There wasn't much there- clothes on the floor, on the chair, spilling out of the dresser and small closet, a jumble of blankets on top of the mattress, a mirror. Aside from what he put on his back, the Wight didn't care much for material possessions.

He sat silently in his room for a bit, listening to the sounds of the old, creaking house. It didn't take him long to ascertain the place was empty- he had sharp hearing, and knew the place well. He dragged himself out of bed, out of his room, down the hallway and down the stairs into the kitchen. The sun was beginning to set, so the rest of the gang was probably out at the Wheel. Ramsey opened the fridge, grabbed some eggs and bacon, set a frying pan on the stove, and got to work.

After he was done with breakfast and cleaning up (well, in his manner, anyway), he went back upstairs to change his clothes. He was the only one in the gang to favor white over black, despite the fact that it was virtually impossible to keep clean. At least he didn't own a motorcycle, so he didn't have to deal with engine grease, oil and the like. He'd gotten pretty good at fixing his crappy little bike, but still preferred to avoid doing so if he could, since it messed up his clothes.

Speaking of which, he took it out of the little garage, hopped on, and headed out for the bar. When he got there, he saw that most everyone was already gathered at the usual booth. Not much one for serious discussion, he nabbed a jungle juice from the fridge when the current bartender wasn't looking and headed for the back of the bar to pass the time playing an arcade game.
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codedbycrucialstar | hover quote & hidden scroll
 
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Tara Lockheart
It had been a long day. Her job at the local Ruby's had been long and tiring, with plenty of creeps coming in and trying to tip her into letting them get more than just food. There had been hands on her waist, people grabbing her wrist, and the disgusting looks that perverts and creeps gave her that sent a chill down her spine. Not that she couldn't handle herself-if any of these creeps came near her she'd cut off their finger and leave them begging for mercy. Plus, she had an entire gang of bikers that would beat the shit out of anyone who dared disrespect her; just as she'd do the same for any other member of their family.

She left her restaurant and changed into her normal black leather jacket and out of the skimpy ass uniforms that they were required to wear. Not that she cared too much, she knew she looked great in it. As she walked outside she opened a pack of cigarettes and started to smoke as she straddled her bike, knowing she was late for a meeting at the Wheel. Tony found out a few years ago that there was really no point in trying to get her anywhere on time, but it didn't stop him from casting disproving glances her way every time she trotted into a place late. Already finished with one cig, she put it out and lit another before revving her engine and starting off towards the Wheel.

As she pulled up to the abnormally crowded bar, she lit a third cigarette with the desire for more. Tony was trying to get her to quit the other drugs she had been so fond of, and even took her stash of blow that he had found in a seem of her mattress. She had been furious, but only as furious as you can be at the man who had saved her life over ten years ago. He had gotten her off of heroine with a struggle, and while it took her a little longer than she'd have liked, she (mostly) quit blow too. She still smoked cigs and blunts whenever she could get her hands on it, though.

She strode into the bar and waved at the bartender for her drink. She only sometimes got it, due to the fact that she was twenty and technically underage. Being a part of Hell's Eagles made it a lot easier for her to get what she wanted, but without making a huge scene it was hard to deny a bartender who wouldn't serve an underage girl. She slid into the booth comfortably as close as she could to tony, ignoring his annoyed and disapproving glare.

"Well how bout it Mads? I could use a Screwdriver...or a Vodka Cranberry. Make sure there's a lot in it, I need the buzz." She said with a half smile.


In the area:
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Interaction:
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Madeline Lashae

Even with all the smoke in the room, Madeline immediately noticed the distinct scent of cigarettes wafting from Tara the moment she sat down. She stared at the girl impassively from across the table when she asked for a drink. Her fondness for various drugs when she was younger and cigarettes left faint traces on Tara's appearance but she was still a pretty thing and she clearly knew it. Madeline considered rebuking the girl but decided she didn't have the time nor energy to do so. She let out an exasperated sigh before getting up from her seat and headed to the bar.

"Hey, can you get me a cranberry juice with some ice?" She said to her co-worker. It was her third time working a shift with him but she still didn't know his name. Likely because whenever he tried to make conversation with her she would immediately turn mute and walk away. She realized it was impossibly rude but Madeline really couldn't do small talk. Thankfully, it seemed like he caught on (or one of the other staff had informed him), and his chattering eventually stopped making him much easier to work with.

"Did you want some vodka in this?" He asked as he started to prepare the drink and she shook her head in response.

Returning to the table with Tara's drink in hand, she noticed Ramsey standing at the Pong machine at the back of the room. She dropped the drink in front of Tara then turned and went to fetch the white-haired boy. Without a word, she grabbed his sleeve and unceremoniously started to drag him back to the booth. Damn teenagers and their proclivity for rebelliousness.

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Tony Eagle
He was silent as he watched the rest of the gang assemble. A dirty look here and a disapproving stare there to those who were late, but other than that he drank his drink and waited for them all to assemble. The only person he gave a half smile to was Madeline due to her astounding ability to gather the gang without any sort of violence or threats. He was always happy when she was around, and despite her lack of muscle in a fight, she was someone he was always glad to have in a pinch. After she dragged Ramsey over to the table, he began.

"Glad you all could make it. There's an obvious problem around town and I'm sure you've all realized it. If you haven't, open your damn eyes. People are disappearing, pets are going missing, and it's looking real bad for us. Local cops are gonna start getting more and more on our ass, and the people of Jacksonville aren't going to put up with this if it keeps getting worse. Logic tells me that it's the Crimson Scorpion, but my gut tells me it's something else." He paused to look at each member in the eye. "I'm sure you've all heard about the strangers that drove into town a while back. Pale, long hair...real weirdos. I know it's not a sure thing, but strange people roll up and suddenly things start going wrong? Only an idiot ignores the obvious. I say we find out who these people are, but before we do anything, what have you all heard abou-"

He stopped as the bar got quiet. As if on queue, the two strangers strolled into the bar, causing almost everyone in there to stop what they were doing and glare at the newcomers. They both had long blonde hair, rich clothes, and an aura about them that seemed to scream "Who cares". Now, the Wheel was full of people who knew their way around a fight. Unsavory types, people who welcomed the sight of a biker gang. Seeing two people dressed in clothes likely worth more than the entire bar was enough to anger some people, but the way they swaggered about like they owned the place turned that anger into hate. The man (though extremely feminine looking) strolled up to the bar and ordered something in a quiet tone while the woman walked behind him and over to the booth next to the Eagle's. She spoke softly, but if the group listened hard enough, they could hear bits and pieces of phrases.

"
...I'm sure you know your way around a woman...new in town...of course!" Came a few words from the woman. She was talking to a small group of people, two men and three women, and it seemed as though she was somehow flirting with all of them at once. Neither her or her strange male partner seemed to catch on to the fact that they weren't welcome here, and it seemed as though they were either stupidly oblivious or brave as hell. Either way, it wasn't a good look.

"
Speak of the devil..." Tony growled as he watched them. "So what should we do about that?"


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Tara Lockheart
It took perhaps four seconds for Tara to figure out that this drink was not what she asked for. Before she could get snippy though, Mads was off grabbing the last member by the sleeve over to their large booth. Tara was about to say something about the drink, but before she could say anything Tony started talking. Damn. She took a sip of her non alcoholic drink with annoyance, but allowed Tony to continue his speech. There were unfortunately more important things than getting hammered right now, and despite the fact that she didn't want to think about the future or what these strings of strange events could mean, she knew well enough that the group had to face it or be screwed.

She remained silent through Tony's words, and remained silent thereafter. She was one of the younger members of the gang, but being so close to Tony she knew things about the gang before anyone else did. Tony almost always told her everything, but he was uncharacteristically silent about this. She hadn't heard anything about this before now, and aside from people giving their gang extra strange looks, she hadn't known too much about this. Most people didn't peg her as the gang type (at least until they got to know her), but that didn't stop her from getting dirty looks and whispers because of the crowd she chose to hang around. She didn't care though. Tony and the rest of the Eagles had been like family to them, and she would do a lot more than take dirty looks for them.
 
The Reaper
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"I cut down everything in my path."​
Next to arrive was Samuel, bear-like as ever and groggy from last night's fight, which had been a doozy. Reid had always liked Samuel- they got along well, and they could spar or fight together when they had the time.

"Evening, man and girls," the man mountain declared as he sat himself down and took a sip of his drink. "Now, we've all heard the rumors," he continued, looking at her as he did so, "but I think it'd be best for the rest of the gang to show up, before we discuss in detail. Be kinda silly to go over that, only to repeat ourselves over and over." Reid rolled her eyes. Yes, she was impatient, but she wasn't a total idiot. Besides, most of them were here already.

Madz finished up with her round and made her way over to their table. Chachi got her White Russian, as usual, but it seems she had decided to mother them again. Samuel's drink was replaced with a hangover cure. The gesture was sweet, but Reid personally reflected that, if it were her, it would hardly be appreciated. Getting drunk again was the best cure for a hangover anyway. When Madz slid over a single glass of rum with a pointed look, Reid glared at her. If this hadn't been such an important meeting, she would've begun arguing then and there- she was not on board with people telling her what to do.

Ramsey showed up then, nabbing a juice from the bar and heading back to the arcade machines, followed by Tara, who slid into the booth and asked for her favorite drink. Reid gave a dry, humorless laugh.

"Good luck with getting anything good from Madz today, Tare," she said with a sour nod at her own sad glass. Madeline sighed in exasperation, got back up, and made for the bar to get the drink. She dropped it off at the table irately before heading to the back to grab Ramsey, dragging him back by his sleeve like a disobedient child. Reid rolled her eyes again- really, there should be a limit to how much she mothered all of them; it wasn't like they needed her to.

She was about to down the rum- had lifted the glass to her lips and tilted her head back to do so, in fact- when Tony spoke, stopping her in her tracks.

"Glad you all could make it. There's an obvious problem around town and I'm sure you've all realized it. If you haven't, open your damn eyes. People are disappearing, pets are going missing, and it's looking real bad for us. Local cops are gonna start getting more and more on our ass, and the people of Jacksonville aren't going to put up with this if it keeps getting worse. Logic tells me that it's the Crimson Scorpion, but my gut tells me it's something else."

As he paused to look at each member in the eye, Reid looked straight back at him, her gaze alight with a dark fire, her glass of rum forgotten.

"I'm sure you've all heard about the strangers that drove into town a while back. Pale, long hair...real weirdos. I know it's not a sure thing, but strange people roll up and suddenly things start going wrong? Only an idiot ignores the obvious. I say we find out who these people are, but before we do anything, what have you all heard abou-"

He paused then as the place got quiet and everyone turned to see why. Reid's intense look turned to one of shock as she watched the two strangers approach- her grip on her glass became dangerously tight.

"Speak of the devil..." Tony growled as he watched the strange pair draw near. "So what should we do about that?"

Reid's grip tightened again, and the glass shattered- she seemed to barely hear him. As if in a trance, she pulled out her Mark II knife, eyes locked onto the blonde woman, and had halfway risen out of her seat before she even knew what she was doing.
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Samuel Lee Thomas

"Fffine," he replied, taking the shot glass from Madeline. He grimaced at the contents - they weren't entirely unfamiliar. She was in the habit of curing hangovers using this strange, organic alchemy, instead of the good old way of 'drinking more.' The gesture was appreciated for what it was: an attempt to help, but he didn't hide the sulky distaste in his expression.

He downed the elixir of sobriety; his grimace deepened at the taste. It somehow managed to be savory, sweet, very spicy, and sour all at the same time, but not in a good way. It was a foul combination. Like someone pouring ketchup and mustard over a cold, cheeseless bun, and ordering you to consume it; only exaggerated, as if the God of Tastebuds decided to wave his wand over it to spruce it up.

In the meantime, Ramsey and Tara arrived to the bar; or as Samuel mentally referred to them, 'Tony's kids.' Tara instantly requested a glass of hard alcohol that no young lady should ever drink, and Ramsey decided to enjoy some arcade games in the corner - not that Samuel would complain over it. Youth only lasts for so long; it should be enjoyed, however, that enjoyment takes form.

Samuel breathed out, feeling the stringent aroma of herbs from the Worcestershire sauce and Tabasco on his tongue.

Shortly after, Tony began to regale them with the specifications of the grim issue that called them all to the Wheel. The strange disappearances of people, he could almost understand - serial killing or hits; something right up the Scorpions' alley. But... pets, as well? That seemed like brutish overkill. It's not like a damn parrot could testify in court and be taken seriously. That was just stupid.

And then they walked in. The freakiest pair of motherfuckers Samuel had seen... maybe ever. Dressed up like a pair of freaky ghosts that wanted to mimic the goth subculture that was getting its wheels on lately.

Originally, Samuel was going to let them go and just look at Tony questioningly as if to ask what he thought they should do. Instead, Samuel saw Reid standing up. The woman decided these people were a right bunch of bastards and deserved to get their shit kicked in. As a result, Samuel decided he had no choice but to concur with her.

In unity with Reid, he stood up from his seat in the booth and bored holes into the freakazoid pseudo-goth woman's back. He'd fortunately decided to wear his sap gloves today - when Tony said there was an important topic to talk over; namely the recent disappearances, Samuel decided to come in at least battle-ready, since you never know what strange shit can happen in a single evening.

"You want me to kick their faces sideways?" Samuel half-whispered, half-grumbled - not even certain if he was asking Tony, Reid, or the gang as a whole.

Saturn_moon Saturn_moon Ayama Ayama .V1LLAINISM._ .V1LLAINISM._ HarryPlopper HarryPlopper Nightwalker973 Nightwalker973 SparrowVale SparrowVale Inheritance Inheritance
 
Madeline Lashae

Everything about the two newcomers unnerved Madeline. From the way they looked to they way they moved and spoke, it all sent a chill down her spine. Unnatural. That was the word that came to her mind. Everything about them felt unnatural. She watched intently, as everyone else in the bar did, as the two strangers moved through the room like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Madeline startled when the glass shattered in Reid's hand, snapping her out of a trance along with it. Before she even had time to process what was happening, Reid was on her feet with a blade drawn in her hand. Her eyes burned with a look that said she was raring for a fight. This was all the prompting needed for Sam to follow suit.

With panic in her heart, Madeline immediately reached across the table and grabbed them by the sleeve of their jackets. "Wait!" She said in an urgent whisper. Both Reid and Sam were significantly bigger and stronger than her and she knew if they were genuinely determined to beat the two strangers up, there was little she could physically do to stop them. "We're in a room full of people who barely trusts us as it is. If you guys go up there and start throwing punches at people who we've only just met, it's going to count as uninstigated violence and that is most definitely not going to help our case. Unless you would like to spend the night behind a different kind of bar, please rethink this." She reasoned with pleading eyes. Her voice was steady but in reality her heart of was pounding like a jackhammer. She looked to the others hoping they would at least see her point of view.

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Condensation on the class, kissing the palm of her hand, while she took the White Russian in her possession. Placing it before her, Chachi stared at her drink in a dreamlike state, she didn't care to admit it. But, the disappearance of the people in the town struck fear in her heart for reasons she found pointless and lack of bravery. Her mind was nowhere to be found in reality as she took her drink in hand, chugging it down until there was none. Tony addressed the group about the suspicious activity going on around town, Chachi half-listened to the conversation mostly letting drown into background noise. She didn't want to hear about any of the strange activity or think of the occurrences that she has experienced lately. Events she hasn't expressed to the gang, and why should she? It would only spark worry that she can handle all on her own. Her mind cleared taking in the last bit of Tony's words, "...I say we find out who these people are, but before we do anything, what have you all heard abou-" Chachi fought her attention away from what had come into the room but she couldn't, her head snapped over to the showrunners that had entered the room. The voices behind her drowned once more as her vision locked on the two pale creatures before her, the woman's words echoed in her dream making Chachi feel drunk.

"...I'm sure you know your way around a woman...new in town...of course!"

The last few words repeated similar to a broken record, Chachi felt the words circle her into a downward spiral. Laughter and screams filled her head until, she held her head and snapped back, in reality, her eyes like daggers toward the two individuals. What was happening with her? Who the fuck did these people think they were? Her body started to overheat with anger as she rose her voice, "Who the fuck are you? And why are you in this town!?" Chachi examined the pale pieces of shit and soon realized how much taller they were than her but didn't care about the circumstance. She was going crazy and somehow she knew it was their fault.
 
The Wight
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"Balance real and virtual- or else."​
Ramsey nearly jumped out of his skin when someone suddenly grabbed his arm. He turned and released a relieved breath when he saw it was just Madeline.

"Geez, Madz," he exclaimed, "you nearly scared me out of my shoes! Announce yerself or something, will ya?"

Without a word, the diminutive bartender dragged him back to the booth by his sleeve. Ramsey yelped and protested, barely having time to grab his jungle juice as he was pulled away, the lonely pong ball bouncing back and forth across the screen. He heard the sad 'game over' beep and sighed- he'd been doing quite well up to that point.

Ramsey sat down sullenly next to the others as Tony began to lay everything out. He wanted to roll his eyes- he knew all of this already; he didn't need the expose. And he wasn't really involved in the group's decision-making either. He was pretty sure Tony didn't care if he attended or not, but Madz was just stubborn in how she thought things should be and her mothering manner to make them so.

He looked around, sipping his drink and barely paying attention. When Tony got to the part about the pale strangers, however, he shivered- a frisson of unexplained but instinctual unease coursing down his spine. As if summoned there by the gang leader's words, the strangers in question showed up in the bar. Upon seeing them, Ramsey's unease turned to icy dread. He barely noticed Reid breaking the glass and pulling out her knife, Samuel and Tara getting up and challenging them, or Madeline trying to hold them back.

He was glued to his seat as if by a lead weight, completely unable to move, though his heart thundered in his chest and his breath was beginning to come in shallow gasps- the beginnings of an episode. Though it was hardly recommended for people experiencing hyperventilation and panic attacks, Ramsey's preferred method of dealing with them was a cigarette and a distraction- any distraction.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem like one was forthcoming.
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Tony Eagle

The most surprising part of the stranger's coming into their bar, for Tony anyway, was the fact that he really wasn't all that furious at them coming in. His anger, which was normally like a sea in storm, was almost forgotten in his absolute shock. He couldn't believe anyone like them would ever walk into the Wheel, much less try to order drinks and talk with the locals in it. There were two bars in Jacksonville, the Wheel, and the Capital. The Capital was hardly a bar at all, it was a place where people went after Prom or for a nice anniversary dinner. The Capital didn't cater to their type of people with their dress code and their requirement of no visible tattoos or piercings. Not that Tony ever wanted to eat in that rich circle-jerk that was the Capital (Capital was such a stupid name! Not even Capitol!), but the fact that they looked down on everyone that wasn't able to blow their nose in their money infuriated him.

The Wheel was where the real people hung out. It was one of the favorite hangouts for Tony and the gang and it was a nice change of pace to find a place that didn't give you dirty looks for riding a bike or wear a leather jacket. These newcomers, aside from being the apparent source of their problems, did not belong in their haven. These two belonged in somewhere far nicer than even the Capital, and they didn't deserve to be here. The gang's reaction at them was solid if not passive, right up until Chachi stood up and screamed at them. While Tony wasn't sure if he approved of her yell, it seemed as though she had vocalized what the entire rest of the bar was thinking. Still, Tony wasn't sure how to deal with such a thing. The obvious idea would be to thrash these two, but there was a difference between an idea and the real thing.

Normally what kept pricks like these out of their bar was the intimidation and the idea. You didn't go into the Wheel unless you knew how to take a hit and bloody someone's nose. You didn't go into the Wheel unless you had a bit of street cred and didn't want to get robbed and beat. You usually didn't go into the Wheel with a large sum of money unless you wanted it to be stolen. That intimidation alone was usually enough to keep the type of people like these two strangers from ever coming in. But for some reason it didn't work on these people, and most of the residents of the bar didn't know what to do in this situation, as though the shock of actually seeing people break the unspoken rules kept them from reacting. Chachi's reaction seemed to startle a few of them back into themselves.

Tony agreed with Madeline the most however. Sure, if they trashed these two right here, everyone would probably just ignore it and assume it was their fault for walking into the Wheel in the first place. Tony wanted to just get up and lead the charge with the other two, but knew it probably wasn't a good idea. That might be the normal thing to do, but these two sure as hell weren't normal. These two were an unknown, two strangers that rolled into town and started a strange string of events that made them look bad. If they did something to these two right now, there was a good chance that it would turn the townsfolk against them even more, and it could just confirm what people wanted to believe: This biker gang had finally gone nuts and were going to start beating and killing anyone they wanted. Attacking these people might be a bad move.

He heard Samuel speak, but didn't answer right away. He was glad he was here, as he was probably the only other person in the gang that could out muscle him, but the more he thought about a fight the more he thought it was a bad idea. He stood up to try and diffuse the situation (noticing that everyone else seemed to look towards Hell's Eagles to do something), but before he could even attempt to enter the situation, the female who had been flirting with the booth next to them spoke.

"Calm down little one, we have the right to be here just as you do." She said as she stood up to her full height, towering over Chachi. Her voice was smooth and soft, speaking in almost a whisper; though when she spoke she commanded total attention, as if she couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't want to listen to exactly what she said. The man that walked in with her stood at the bar watching the situation, apparently unphased. "We are not here to start a fight, why the hostility? We have a right to be here just like you do."

She returned Chachi's gaze, her strange eyes beating down directly into hers. She didn't look away, nor give any sign that she was scared (while any other man or woman would have run screaming at the sight of an angry biker gang). She stared at her for what seemed like an hour before finally lifting her gaze to the rest of the people, some sitting some standing, and broke out into a half smile as she saw Samuel.


"Well well, aren't you a sight! You didn't come here with anyone did you?" She said in the same flirtatious voice she used when talking to the other group, though strangely similar to the voice she addressed Chachi in. She moved her gaze over towards the booth, her eyes dancing over Ramsey and reveling in his obvious discomfort. She moved past him and onto Reid, where she spoke again. "Or you? Or is he yours..." She said with a semi-disgusted look at Ramsey. Throughout her speech she kept about 6 feet away from each of them, but didn't seem intimidated by them at all. The tension in the bar rose as her words rang through the air.

SparrowVale SparrowVale Saturn_moon Saturn_moon Ayama Ayama Birdsie Birdsie
 
The Reaper
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"I cut down everything in my path."​
Once Reid stood up, Samuel followed suit, reassuring and solid as a brick wall at her side.

"You want me to kick their faces sideways?" he half-whispered. She barely heard him- there was a buzzing at the base of her skull, making her unable to focus on anything besides the woman in front of her.

Madeline reached out and tried to hold the pair back by grabbing their sleeves. Something which, considering her size and strength and their relative aggression, was about as effective as a rope trying to hold back a freight train.

"We're in a room full of people who barely trusts us as it is. If you guys go up there and start throwing punches at people who we've only just met, it's going to count as uninstigated violence and that is most definitely not going to help our case. Unless you would like to spend the night behind a different kind of bar, please rethink this," Madeline begged. If she'd been paying attention, Reid would've rolled her eyes at all the legal jargon and said something like You're not a lawyer anymore, Madz- you're in a biker gang. Drop the legalese and get with the program. As it was, though, the younger woman's voice was so much white noise to her ears.

Chachi's voice, louder and more cutting than Madz' was, pierced through the haze in Reid's brain, made her realize that was an important question she should get the answer to. Why were they in this town?

Tony stood up as well, but was preempted by the blond-haired woman, who responded to Chachi, staring at her for a long moment before turning her attention to the more immediate threats. Far from finding Samuel or herself intimidating in the slightest, she began immediately flirting with them. Reid dimly registered the woman's insinuations, but was hardly able to hold back- she was shaking with the effort it was taking her not to rush forward with the knife. She found her voice at last.

"This is our town," she growled. "Tell us what you're doing here." Somewhere at the back of her mind, she knew she was no match for this creature, but her rage was beginning to set her skull pounding- she could feel the blood rushing through her body, pushing her to act.
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Sharp pains churned in Chachi's stomach as the woman approached her, with each step it felt as if her world was being warped before her eyes. Chachi strengthens her footing, not moving an inch as she kept her stare piercing and eager for the woman to make her move. She reached behind her back pulling her blade from her back pocket. She watched the woman's every move but for a second she looked over at her company, why was he watching like that? She glared turning her attention back to the enemy of the hour. The woman had looked over at Samuel fueling the fire in Chachi, the woman's eyes teasing Ramsey had Chachi gripping her blade until her hand turned red in irritation. Once the woman's eyes landed on Reid, Chachi clenched her jaw, "Why are you so far from us? Come closer, I want you to come closer." She spoke with calm but harsh tones, a hyper urge to fight, no to kill was boiling inside her. What happening to me? These things aren't like us, I can feel it.

Chachi's head started to get to thump as she looked at the woman, keeping her stance for as long as she could. She tried to calm her nerves as Reid spoke to them.
"Tell us what you're doing here."

Chachi loosened her grip on the blade trying to listen to what the bastard want with their stupid town. And why they have the audacity to walk around their bar like they own the place. She didn't let go of the blade but she kept herself composed and pushed back closer to Tony, just in case. Chachi was tough but she understood her disadvantage in height, these people may have appeared malnourished but she wasn't going to take any chances.
 
Madeline Lashae

The tension that hung in the air was so thick it was almost palpable. While fixating on trying to calm Reid and Sam down, Madeline hadn't notice Chachi start to lose her cool as well until the girl was on her feet hurling words of aggression at the pair. "Who the fuck are you? And why are you in this town!?" In that moment, she came to a weird realisation that made her cringe slightly. If her life in Jacksonville had turned out a little differently, Chachi's word could have just as easily been directed at her instead of the two strangers standing before them.

People tended to react in a similar fashion whenever they found out Madeline was a part of Hell's Eagles. "Really? You?" They'd ask with incredulity and skepticism. She wasn't surprised though, considering that the reasons for their disbelief were so glaringly obvious. She had no tattoos, no piercings and no muscle. Her nickname in the gang, Sparrow, came about simply because compared to the rest, she resembled a small bird; One which could easily be crushed. Even Chachi who was shorter than her looked like she could hold her own in a battle of fists. She favoured books over cigarettes and often spoke in what Reid would probably refer to as 'nerdspeak'. Take away Madeline's leather jacket and swap her grease stained jeans for a nice dress and she would have easily blended in at the Capital without a hitch. Not that she ever wanted to be there.

Of course, it hadn't been easy getting the gang to trust her at the start, they saw her as a liability and a risk. Logically, she shouldn't fit in with a biker gang, but some how she had and it was all because Tony recognised that her skills laid somewhere other than brute strength and itimidation. Eventually, everyone else came around as well and in a turn of events that had confused many, she had found comradeship in these people.

While she had sought to fit in, the two blonde strangers revelled in standing out. They paradedaround The Wheel making themselves seen and heard, intentionally drawing attention. It may not seem like it but they were looking for a fight. Hoping even from the way they were trying to antagonize Reid and Chachi... clearly, they knew who among them wouldn't be able to resist the temptation of a fight, and the bigger the audience watching the better.

Madeline couldn't for the life of her figure out why they would do such a thing but she knew in her gut that it would end very badly for one of them.
 
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The Wight
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"Balance real and virtual- or else."​
When the woman got up and began to speak, Ramsey's eyes snapped to her face. He stared at her as if hypnotized, unable to look away. When her eyes passed over him, he shuddered, some instinctive, primal fear bubbling up within him, feeling like small prey cornered by a predator.

Reid demanded to know what the pair were doing here, but Ramsey was finding it impossible to muster his usual curiosity. He didn't want to know why they were there- he just wanted them gone. He wanted them as far away from him as possible- so far away that it was like they didn't exist. He didn't know why he felt like this- it was like some old, suppressed memory trying to break through.

Chachi pulled out her knife as well, standing by Reid and Samuel's side, and it seemed like any moment things would be turning into a fight. Ramsey's hands were frozen on the table, his nails beginning to dig into the formica surface, his breath coming in fast and small bursts as his heartbeat accelerated. If he didn't find a way to calm down soon, he'd be passing out or worse.

He'd had these panic attacks for about as long as he could remember, though it had been a few months since his last one, and he lamented the strangers' arrival and what it had caused- he hated the feeling it gave him, and spent a good deal of time and effort avoiding triggers and staying away from anything that might put him in this state; hence the chain-smoking and endless nights gambling. If he didn't get a cigarette soon, he would definitely be too far gone to calm down.
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Samuel Lee Thomas

"That I did not," Samuel answered the affable woman's question, trying to keep his distaste from infecting his voice.

Deep inside, Sam was unsettled. It was like flickering confusion kept ringing in a staccato thunder in his head - not from the alcohol, or the cure for thereof that Madeline served him - but rather, because of the way the pair of freaks carried themselves with. They strode into the bar like they owned the place; with confidence, with swagger.

Which is why he was unsettled. There were three kinds of dangers to look out for: yourself, in the sense that you could always fuck up and do something stupid if you weren't keeping yourself in check; tough motherfuckers, especially when it came to the task of martial asskicking; and lunatics. Lunatics were unpredictable; some of them could be afraid of a simple threat, while another lunatic might yawn at a knife pressed to the throat. One might be freakishly calm like a koi pond, while the second lunatic is gonna fly into a wild rage at the smallest slight.

Samuel realized, from the casual demeanor in which the woman carried herself, was because she wasn't a freak: she was a lunatic.


Saturn_moon Saturn_moon Ayama Ayama .V1LLAINISM._ .V1LLAINISM._ HarryPlopper HarryPlopper Nightwalker973 Nightwalker973 SparrowVale SparrowVale Inheritance Inheritance
 
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Tara Lockheart
She saw how much the group hated these people. She saw the rush of emotions that seemed to go through every member of the bar, and for some reason, she didn't feel the same. Sure, these people were out of place; and sure, they had some nerve smarting off to the Eagle's like that. But something about this girl's bravery (or stupidity) stuck with Tara, and for some reason she saw a bit of herself in them. She couldn't explain why she didn't hate these people as everyone else suddenly did, but for some reason her reaction was a lot more passive than even Tony's was (who seemed to be frozen in shock or numb with anger).

She didn't stand to join the rest of the group, but still kept a sharp eye on the situation. If shit hit the fan, Tara would be up in arms trying to cut these freaks' eyes out (of course defending her gang), but at the moment she didn't feel super threatened. They were something strange about these two, and while she didn't feel it she could understand the wave of outrage and (though they wouldn't admit it) fear that most of the people in this bar were feeling right now. The emotion that most powerfully shot through her body was confusion, not anger or fear. She didn't know why she didn't hate these people, and she didn't know why she was annoyed that everyone else hated them. Shivering involuntarily, she brought out a cigarette with a shaky hand and lit it. She wished she had something stronger.

As she began to smoke she grabbed Tony's drink and slammed it, though if Tony noticed he didn't give any sign of it. She needed a buzz. No, she needed more than a buzz. She wanted to get blacked the fuck out. She wanted to feel something stronger than weed and alcohol. She shivered again, desperately trying to get a hold of herself as she inhaled a large breath of smoke. Why was this happening to her now? Who were these people? She looked down at her non-alcoholic drink as tears began to brim on her eyes. She hoped to whatever fucked up God was out there that her hair covered enough of her face that nobody could see her weakness, but she had a horrible feeling those terrible eyes of the woman standing above her could see far past a simple wall of blonde waves. With eyes like those, that woman could only be staring into her soul...


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Tony Eagle
Tony finally found his voice as the strange woman addressed the group. At first he had kept quiet to let her speak, but the way she seemed to ignore him was infuriating. Her eyes glanced over him once, then moved on. He wasn't used to being ignored, especially when he was right in the middle of the group she seemed to be flirting with. This, and the fact that she clearly had no idea who she was messing with angered him greatly, and the fact that the entire bar was watching them made it impossible for them not to react. The bar was counting on Hell's Eagles to take care of this problem, just like they always did. Sure, a few of the people in the bar were pointing fingers at Hell's Eagles right before this, but as soon as some trouble came up they went right back to asking for their help. As usual.

Tony was impressed with the restraint the group showed, but was even more impressed with their ability to tread the line between being aggressive and being cautious, When they were dealing with such cooky characters like this, the best thing they could do was be careful. That being said, a biker gang was hardly a gang at all without a little bit of aggression and a lot of ways to back it up. As the strange couple still didn't give any signs of leaving after the questions, he also spoke up.

"You better answer the woman." He growled as he stood up from the bar, crossing his arms. "It could mean serious trouble for you both if you don't answer quickly. You don't belong here."

He noticed Tara's strange behavior, and Ramsey didn't seem to be dealing with this all that well either. He had come to know them both like the back of his hand, though both of them still constantly surprised him. Seeing both of them in distress made him angry, and seeing the entire group (including himself) grow more and more tense made him protective, and there were very few things less dangerous than an angry man protecting his family-especially when he had a group of people ready to kick the shit out of the one threatening them. He was slightly taller than the woman, but it seemed even the combination of Chachi, Samuel, Reid, and himself wasn't enough to daunt this woman and her strange partner.


__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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Despite the rising tensions and the increasing number of threats, the strange woman remained impassive, if not amused, by the gang. There are few things in the world as annoying as someone laughing at you when you're trying to be serious, and either this woman didn't know this, or was trying her hardest to infuriate what might be the most dangerous group of people within 100 miles. Either way, as the group spoke to her and made their threats, the only reaction they got out of her was a half smile. "This is our town. What are you doing here?"
Her half smile twisted into a sinister grin as she heard this, her eyes dancing over the woman who spoke.

"Your town? What gives you domain over such an..." Her grin faded as she looked around the Wheel. A look of disgust flashed across her features before it was replaced with the same mocking smile. "interesting place? And why oh why would you take credit for it?" Her features turned sinister.

"
Why are you so far from us? Come closer, I want you to come closer. " Her smile grew wider.

"
I want you to come closer too, my dear. Perhaps we can get to know each other a little bet-" She was interrupted as Tony finally spoke.

"You better answer the woman. It could mean serious trouble for you both if you don't answer quickly. You don't belong here." She paused before she spoke, almost offended she was interrupted.

"I don't belong here? My darling, I believe I might have a better claim to this place than you do. Look at your blonde friend here! You don't seem to understand her, or what she needs..." She looked down at Tara, who looked back up at her with blurry eyes. The woman stared at her intently for a quick moment, before raising her gaze back to the rest, then back to Tara. "I have what you need, my dear. A bit of a pick-me-up? Some Molly? Perhaps Lucy?" She said with a gleam in her eye.


As she finished, the blonde man approached the group and his partner, apparently unsuccessful in getting a drink. He was taller than her, tall enough to meet Samuel in the eye (and perhaps be a bit taller due to the boots he was wearing), but not near as muscular. He stood next to her grinning, teeth sharper than a normal human and his eyes with the strange look that his partner had.

"She could use more than that, if you ask me." He said with a snicker. His voice didn't quite have the same essence as the woman, who seemed to speak as though she assumed you were going to listen. His voice was sharper, meaner, and crueler. It didn't assume you would listen to him, it dared you to challenge him. It reminded you that there would be consequences if you dared disobey. "This place is dreary. Let's try somewhere else, shall we?" He said to the woman without looking at the group. When he finally did raise his eyes to them, his gaze was full of disgust and venom, as if he was absolutely disgusted to be breathing the same air as these delinquents. The woman nodded without taking her eyes off of Tara.

"Of course. My dear, if you wish to get a better high than your smoke and child's drink, come find us. I promise it will be worth your time." She winked at Tara, then turned to leave with her partner.


The gang's shock and fury that such people would dare speak to them in such a manor might have finally boiled over, but before they could do or say anything else to these people, the doors of the bar opened, and in walked 7 members of the Crimson Scorpion.

Birdsie Birdsie Ayama Ayama Saturn_moon Saturn_moon SparrowVale SparrowVale
 
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The Reaper
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"I cut down everything in my path."​
Side by side by side, Reid, Chachi and Samuel stood before the strange woman, making an intimidating trio. This didn't seem to phase her in the slightest, however, adding insult to the injury of her daring to enter their bar in the first place. She grinned, eyeing the bar with disgust and insulting them further, making Reid see red.

Chachi told them to come closer, clearly getting ready for a fight. The tension thrumming between the newcomer and the trio was so palpable you could cut through it with a knife. Reid heard the slam of the glass as Tara knocked back Tony's drink. She wasn't about to look away from the woman's face, but the sound unnerved her for some reason, distracting her from the woman's response.

Finally, Tony stood up, and hearing his deep, rumbling voice calmed and reassured her somewhat- it was like a stabilizing agent for her nerves, stretched to breaking point as they were. The woman paused, seeming offended herself for the first time. When she focused on Tara, however, Reid's blood ran cold. She knew that look- she'd seen that look.

She stepped sideways to place herself between the woman and her team member just as her companion came to join her. At his arrival, Reid's grip tightened on her knife, a shiver running down her spine at the cruel sound of his voice. At that moment she couldn't have said which emotion she felt more strongly- fear or rage.

The pair turned to leave, and Reid stepped forward to stop them, but at that moment seven members of the Crimson Scorpions walked in. She leveled a glare at them, insulted that they'd even dare to come in here. Their arrival had placed her squarely in the rage category but, with her focus now split between the two groups, she wasn't sure which to go after.

Addressing Samuel and Chachi, she shifted her stance, ready for a fight.

"You two get the Crims," she said. "I'll deal with the weirdos."
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Madeline Lashae

Madeline shifted her gaze over to Tara who had remain seated throughout this entire debacle and seemed to be slowly disappearing behind her long blonde hair. She didn't know what had gotten into the girl but she clearly wasn't doing okay. All hopes of getting Reid, Chachi, and Samuel to simmer down had gone out the window and from their postures, Madeline knew it wouldn't take much to push them over the precipice into a full-on fist fight. Could this day get any worse?

Just as tensions threatened to boil over, the strange pair suddenly excused themselves leaving the group confused and hanging. However, as they turned to leave, the door to the Wheel swung open and in walked, who else but, the Crimson Scorpions. Madeline let out an internal groan. Apparently, it fucking could. In a moment of rashness and perhaps just a general I'm-done-with-this-shit, Madeline slammed a fist down on the table and took a stand next to the other three. "Leave the weirdos." She said eyeing the pair as they simply brushed past the Crims without so much as a glance. "There's seven Crims and seven of us" she briefly looked back at Tara and Ramsey "Eh, maybe make that five of us... You can handle two of them can't you Reid?" A hint of a smirk played at the corner of her mouth.

While Madeline was the last person you'd expect to engage in a fight, she'd picked up some decent combat skills in the two years since joining the Eagles. Plus, where she lacked in strength, she made up for in agility. In the back of her mind she realised she was going to have to explain to her boss why they'd started yet another fight in his bar. There goes my tips for tonight.

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