Realistic or Modern Hell's Eagles

[Birdsie]

Samuel Lee Thomas​

And like so, with Tony's words as a deterrent or perhaps as a reason for them to hurry out, the lunatics made their exit. Samuel released a breath he wasn't aware he was holding.

"The hell was that?" he asked, turning. He wasn't sure whether to look at Tony, or at Tara - whom the woman addressed in a more-than-strange manner. 'You don't seem to understand what she needs' was one hell of a creepy way to speak to... everyone, really, but mostly Tony in that specific context. And Tara was getting blurry eyed for some reason, but before any of their issues could be addressed, a band of Crimson Scorpions entered the bar.

Samuel took a moment to reload his mind. He switched gears from 'dealing with lunatics' to 'dealing with potential assholes,' but in the backseat of his mind, he wanted to slow things down and take it easy. The Crimsons weren't stupid, so they didn't come here as a sign of only disrespect - they were either here to declare war or deliver a message.

In case they were here to fight, it was a very, very stupid move. While Madeline's arithmetic appeared to exclude Tara and Ramsey from the combatant numbers, Samuel was half-certain that at least some of the drunks in the bar would aid them - if not for familiarity's sake with the Eagles, then at the very least because some drunks were naturally aggressive and liked to take their anger out on viable targets, and them coming to the Wheel was a good indicator they preferred to keep coming here; for which attacking the Eagles would be not the best idea.

But on the off-chance the Crimson Scorpions were actually here to talk, Samuel decided to give them a fair conversation opener. Bold, without too much aggression, but making it clear he didn't have a ubiquitous load of patience to spend on them:

"Look at the balls on you!" Samuel declared loudly and boisterously, drawing the attention of anyone who wasn't paying it yet. He folded his arms and made an upwards nod. "Walking in here like you own the damn place? What's this about, Crims?"

Saturn_moon Ayama @Robbie @HarryPlopper @Nightwalker973 SparrowVale Inheritance

 

[Ayama]

The Wight

[class=picture] position: relative; display: inline-block; [/class] [class=text] position: absolute; width: 100%; height: 100%; top: 0; left: 0; opacity: 0; background-color: rgba(0,0,0,0.2); color: white; z-index: 2; [/class] [class name=text state=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [div class=picture] [div class=text]

"Balance real and virtual- or else."​

​

Raleigh began to notice Tara beginning to have a meltdown at his side as well. She lit a cigarette with shaky hands and, as she exhaled, he gratefully inhaled the secondhand smoke, calming down almost immediately. She grabbed up Tony's drink and slammed it back- something she would almost never do; you didn't touch the boss' stuff. Period. Ramsey saw her trembling, recognizing all the signs.

The both of them were prone to this kind of stuff and, though they had different ways of dealing with it, they understood each other. Some darkness from their past, some forgotten or hard-suppressed memory, some trauma that would surface. This was the first time they'd both been triggered at the same time by the same thing though, and Ramsey's eyes returned to the pair of strangers as he wondered what the hell was going on.

Tony finally got up along with the others, his imposing figure interposed between them and the strangers helping Ramsey to feel calmer. The woman seemed to be completely unphased though, proceeding to answer in insults that should've gotten the tar kicked out of her just for being uttered. When her gaze landed on Tara, however, followed by the arrival of her partner, Ramsey froze up again, that same sense of primal fear overwhelming his senses, even though their focus wasn't on him.

The arrival of the Crimson Scorpions seemed to cut through the mist. Strangely, though it would usually ratchet up the tension a couple notches, in this case Ramsey thought that it did the opposite, bringing things back to some kind of normality compared to the awful strangers. Reid, Madeline and Samuel were getting ready for a fight. In the meantime, the decreased tension allowed him to relax enough to light up a cigarette of his own, and he took in a deep, satisfied breath as the smoke flooded his lungs, feeling his fear evaporate.

He turned to Tara, whose blond hair was still covering her face, and wondered what he could do to help. After all, they were quite familiar with the sort of things she tended to do when she was in this kind of mood, and Tony had put in a lot of time and effort to help her get clean- it'd be a shame to waste it.

"Hey Tare," he said in his usual casual drawl, "you wanna go get a drink? Or maybe taking out your frustration on the Crims will help ya level out?" he suggested, exhaling a puff of smoke and feeling like things were back to normal. Well, at least, trying real hard to fool himself into thinking it.

[/div][/div]

codedbycrucialstar | hover quote & hidden scroll​

 

[SparrowVale]

With the click of her tongue, she stabbed her blade into the table that she and her crew were sitting at leaning back against it. The Crims are no more than the scum on the bottom of her shoe, she dug her blade in as she made eye contact with the Crims leader. Then pulling her blade back go with a sharp slicing sound coming with it, she lifted her head in acknowledgment of them. She stood straight twirling the blade in her hand, then throwing it past their head until it stuck in the door frame behind them. "Oops, I guess I missed my target." Chachi rolled her eyes in disgust, "I have to go to the bathroom...if any of you don't mind." She spoke toe poison In her words as she grabbed her drink and chugged it before wiping her mouth.

She walked up to them with confidence in her shoulder pulling out her blade, "Don't want this to go to waste now, do we?
No puedo esperar hasta que pueda usar esta cosa." She spoke in an almost seductive way, walking away from them towards the bathroom while addressing once more before she headed inside.

"If this is important make it quick and don't make it boring, okay? I don't want to wait too long before fucking you up...puto gilipollas"

translations
1. I can't wait to fucking use this thing.
2. fucking assholes.

 

[Inheritance]

Tony Eagle
​

Tony was stunned that this strange lady would dare talk to him, or anyone in his group the way she did. She ignored their obvious threats, their questions, and had the nerve to insult them and the Wheel before sauntering out like it was no big deal. It was enough to drive a man crazy, and just as Tony was about to lose it on these fuckwits, a group of Crimson Scorpions sauntered in like they owned the place. Normally, Tony would hop up and have a bit of witty banter with them before either intimating them enough to leave, or smashing one of their faces in until they ran screaming. But this wasn't a normal day. They picked today to pull up on the Eagle's territory, right after these two freaks had pissed them off. He doubted any of the Eagles were about to sit around and banter with these people.

His point was proven as Chachi whipped a blade into the door behind them, causing a few gasps and chuckles to escape members of the bar. For some reason the idea of a bar fight seemed to calm a lot of people down, or at least give them an opportunity to get some of their frustration out after the two strangers had been in here. Listening to Madeline, he turned to the rest of the group and spoke.

"She's right. Those two strangers will get what's coming to them, but right now we need to focus on the real issue." He turned his glare onto the Scorpions, staring daggers into them. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I need to hit something right now; and I suppose these sauntering piles of dogshit will have to do!" He raised his voice at the last part, directing it at the gang coming in.

He watched Cachi stroll up to them unfraid, before pulling out her dagger and strolling over to the bathroom. The scorpions seemed to not be able to comprehend what was going on fast enough, and as their heads finally wrapped around the fact that they were being insulted , the leader of them yelled out in a loud voice.

"You jackoffs think you can talk to us and get away with it? Let me remind you who's territory this is." He growled as he stormed over to them, his six sheep following him.

The Crimson Scorpion all wore blood red jackets (which Tony thought to be hideous), were decently built, and were as dumb as they were bold. There was only one woman in their group, and even she looked to be bigger and bulkier than the average girl. Their leader had come from Colorado, where his rich parents had bought him and a few of his friends top of the line bikes-bikes that they had slowly ruined over the past year of annoying the Eagles. Any mechanic worth his or her oil would cringe whenever they saw these idiots riding with their horribly worn tires and overloading their bikes. Often times they could be caught stalled on the road, or walking their bikes back to the city because they didn't refuel it. Tony was a decent mechanic and a great rider, and it made him cringe when they treated their bikes like garbage.

As the group of them approached, Tony stood up to meet their leader, Mark Chaglo, knowing his group would back him up. They might be outmuscled, but their team was good at fighting-and he trusted some members of the bar to hop in. He could already see three or four people ready to jump in. The strangers had left, but the fury they had caused still resonated throughout the bar. Even the bartender, who had to know what was about to happen, didn't seem to mind much. Tony hoped Madeline wouldn't get into trouble for joining in.

"Get your bitch ass out of here Mark, or I'll hit you so hard your personality will blow out the back of your skull." Chalgo glared at him, too angry to move. "Come on bitch, first shot is free. Better fuckin' make it count." Tony said, leaving his face open for a hit.

Tony's favorite part of the fight, aside from winning, was breaking his opponents. Sure, it was easy to break an opponent with your fists, but breaking their mind was a key to victory. Tony tried to break their will to fight in the first few seconds, and once their confidence faltered Tony gave them the beating of a lifetime. Offering a free hit might be stupid, but Tony was confident in his ability to take a punch. Besides, few things were as intimidating as being hit for free, turning around, and hitting them back. He was ready to kick this guy's ass.

Right on que, Mark's fury boiled over, and he swung a poorly timed punch at Tony's face. It contacted easily, as Tony didn't block or move, but unfortunately for the Scorpions, Tony barely stumbled back. The bar was silent for a quick moment, so quiet that you could might be able to hear the Capital across the town. But in a quick moment, that silence was shattered, replaced with yells and cheers. True to his word, Tony stood up, laughed, and sent a punch barreling at Chalgo's face. As it made contact, the crack of teeth could be heard, along with a few cheers from rowdy members of the bar. The chaos was instant, as Mark stumbled back, and the Crimson Scorpions plunged into combat, with a few other members leaping into the fray as soon as they could.


(OOC: Assume each player has an enemy scorpion charging at them.)

Birdsie Ayama Saturn_moon SparrowVale

 

[Saturn_moon]

Madeline Lashae
​

It took everything in Madeline to not roll her eyes when the leader of the Crimson Scorpions spoke. "You jackoffs think you can talk to us and get away with it? Let me remind you who's territory this is." Honestly, how far up their asses did these people's head have to be to even raise a question about territory? Of the existing crew, Madeline had been the last to join. Even then, barely anyone knew who or what the Crimson Scorpions were when she arrived in Jacksonville. The Eagles on the other hand had already established a reputation for themselves.

To no one's surprise, Tony didn't let Mark's comment pass. She watched with a raised eyebrow as Tony taunted the man, egging him to start a fight. He was having way too much fun with this. While Madeline knew it had been Tony's plan all along, she was still shocked when the Crim's leader actually caved and threw a punch at Tony. Bloody idiot. The bar fell dead silent... until Tony stood up and laughed.

The moment Tony's fist made contact with Mark's face, all hell broke loose (the humor in that expression was not lost on Madeline). The Crims were on the move faster than she had expected but it wasn't hard to spot a man nearly twice her size charging towards her with his arms outstretched. He was beefy, more fleshy than muscular, but likely not a very good fighter if he had picked her out of the lot to be his target. From past experiences, she found that you could usually tell how confident someone was of their own abilities based on the battles they picked. If someone willingly chose her then she'd say that their confidence level was pretty low. It sounds self-deprecating but facts were facts and more often than not it usually worked to her advantage since they tended to get complacent.

As the Crim was about to grab hold of her, Madeline deftly ducked under his arm, sidestepped around and elbowed him in the back. The actual attack wasn't very hard but combined with the inertia of his lumbering charge and confusion from missing his target, it was enough to offset his balance and send him crashing face first into the floor. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to pick on girls?" She shouted to the groaning form over the cacophony of cheers, jeers, and everything in between that surrounded them. She had turned to walk away when a hand wrapped around her ankle. Oh crap. With a jerk, Madeline felt the floor slide out from under her and her back slammed into the floor.

When she opened her eyes, the beefy Crim was kneeling over her, blood dripping from his nose, fists poised over her petite frame. With a gasp, she rolled out just as he brought his fists down and quickly scrambled to her feet. "GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE-" She grabbed the nearest chair, not bothering to let him finish his sentence, and with all her might, swung it into his body. The chair shattered on impact but the Crim remained kneeling if a little dazed. "You have got to be kidding me!" She exclaimed. He pushed himself back onto his feet and with a guttural roar, tackled Madeline in the side and sent her flying across the bar.

Birdsie Ayama Inheritance SparrowVale

 

[Birdsie]

Samuel Lee Thomas​

Breaking things, as far as Samuel was concerned, was his specialty. It came in several flavors, which tinted the color of his nickname over the years. Most often, it was 'Big Breaker,' in an affectionate manner. Sometimes, it was 'Crunch,' and a few times it was, 'Boom.' Out of them, only 'Breaker' stayed, because it was the most general one, that fully encompassed what he was supposed to be.

He quickly realized the Crimson Jackoffs came here for a war, instead, which brought a smile to his lips. He could kick someone's teeth in for free.

As many people might have realized, Samuel wasn't a mortal man. He was robust. You could punch him in the jaw thrice, kick him for a little bit of spice, and then smack him with a plank for good measure, and all it'd do to him at the end of the day is that he'd spit out a bloody tooth to the side, get up, and continue unabated. He was a pain-resistant pain delivery machine. Or in your common future parlance, 'a terminator' capable of advancing and not letting up.

So when a Crimson Scorpion charged at him, Samuel didn't dodge, didn't bother taking the hit, or preparing one.

He charged right back at the bastard. They met in the center, arms on each other's chests, pushing with enough force that a lesser man's pectorals would've bruised twice over from the strain and arteries popping between the muscles.

Samuel hopped back a step, used one fist to push a blow aside as he raised his other fist from the down up and delivered a leopard blow to the man's liver area. It was like Samuel's entire arm became a snake that quickly unwound, delivered a quick kiss to the side of the stomach, then shyly reeled itself back in: but in reality, it was a blow with crushing force, distributed over a lower area by compressing the fist, then distributed wider through the sap gloves to deliver utter pain and destruction. Samuel grinned as he prepared the coup de grâce.

Fighting was many things, but for one, it was an art. An art Samuel never mastered, and likely never would. He lacked the tactical mind for it, and relied too much on his brute force and overwhelming speed to make it fair enough for anything resembling 'art.' But sometimes, he'd get these slivers of tactical acumen in the spur of the moment; flashing through his brain in less than half a second, and taking a similar amount of time to realize.

This was one of those times. As the Crimson Scorpion buckled from the utter agony of having his liver smashed in - it was one of the most painful places to aim for, even with the balls being a factor in the equation - Samuel hunched down over and delivered an uppercut. There was a loud, meaty thwack sound. The staggering force of the impact sent the Scorpion back at least five feet and onto the floor.

In that moment, as Samuel was relishing his victory and about to leap back in and go commando on the guy's dental plan, another Scorpion wrapped his arms around his neck and started choking him. Samuel froze up for a moment, then started moving back until they hit a table. The Scorpion was thrown onto it and dragged Samuel with himself, almost like a gay pair enjoying the nice evening at the bar, only with a little bit more rough-house BDSM thrown in.

As Samuel choked, it came to him that he should probably use a weapon.

He looked around and reached for a nearby, half-empty bottle of vodka which one of the patrons left. His fingers mewled about the bottle's edges, as he started to cough harshly and lose his breath and wit, adrenaline flooding into his mind. He pushed himself in the bottle's direction, slipped his fingers around the neck, then moved back in and angled himself carefully. In the next moment, there was a loud crack and subsequent shrill scream as glass shards and acrid alcohol spread themself nicely onto the bastard's face.

"That's why you don't mess with Big Breaker, bitch!" Samuel spat, relishing his first breaths of the last twenty seconds. As the Scorpion started getting back up, Samuel kicked him in the chest, which sent the Scorpion sliding over the table and off to the other side to enjoy the embrace of the floor.

That done, he looked around to assess the situation. Tony was handling himself pretty evenly, but Madeline was having some trouble. There came a choice that Samuel often had to make - he could either leave the girl to fend for herself and be an asshole, or he could help her and implicitly make the statement girls can't fight for shit, which would make him an asshole.

Since he was an asshole, he decided he might as well help.

He picked up the nearest bottle and froze because it was a Yamazaki Sherry 18-year-old. How the fuck did that get into the Wheel? You took this bottle into London, and you were well-equipped enough to do body shots off the Queen of England's belly button! Fuck it. He took a swig, relishing both the first taste and fragrant smell as a package deal.

Sweet tap-dancing Buddha, it lived up to the hype. Bold but not aggressive, velvety fucking smooth, and oh-so complex. It had actually surpassed the hype.

With mournful pain and burning hate, he used it as a blunt instrument on the head of the Scorpion attacking Madeline, spraying high-quality liquor everywhere and slightly discombobulating their enemy, who stepped aside to clutch his bloodied head.

"You okay?" Samuel asked Madeline.

Sorry if it came out too long. I got kind of caught up in the glory of writing a fight scene. TLDR: Samuel ROBUSTS a Scorpion by charging at them, almost gets ROBUSTED by a Scorpion but uses a bottle of vodka for ROBUSTING, then sees Madeline and a Scorpion are getting a little too close to each other and decides to ROBUST the latter with a drink good enough you could gift it to a king as a divine artifact.

Inheritance Ayama Saturn_moon SparrowVale

 

[Inheritance]

Tony Eagle
"I ain't as good as I once was, but I'm as good once as I ever was!"​

Tony was getting on in age, and it was once again proven as he began to get into it with the meat-headed Guido that was the Mark Chaglo. He was a dumb as he was uncoordinated, but for some odd reason the trust fund brat knew how to fight. Tony had slammed his weight into Mark and drove him back, raining well timed blows on him that sent him stumbling backwards into a table, where a rowdy bystander began pouring his mug of beer on them. Tony had been in more fights than this kid had chest hairs, and Tony had no problem taking a punch from the kid, but the older he got the harder it was to throw people around.

Despite the pain, Tony's age old intimidation factor continued to work, Mark's powerful blows becoming less timed and more panicked. Mark was no longer a biker trying to beat the hell out of someone, but a scared rich kid that was realizing he was once again in way over his head. Tony threw him off the table and onto the floor, aiming a kick at his head but narrowly missing as Mark rolled away. He was about to continue his assault when another scorpion ribcaged him and drove him into the booth, breaking the table. Shouts and whoops of delight started to roar from the audience, a few of the bystanders jumping into the fray.

Tony drove his forehead into his attacker's nose, rolling on the ground with him trying to seize control of the fight. His opponent was stronger than he was, but clearly not as good in a fight, unable to get a good hit on Tony as he continued to pound at his opponent. Tony tried to get a look at the rest of the bar inbetween swings, seeing Samuel kicking the teeth out of three scorpions, fighting even better than he normally did (and he was normally their best brawler). In the corner of his eye he saw Mark getting back up for an attack, but was happy to see him get tackled to the ground again by one of the Eagle's friends, Nick Gildeny.

Nick Gildeny was a mechanic that lived in Jacksonville, often times working on their bikes for free. He would let them use his tools, tell them gossip, and keep an eye on their home base when they were out of town. He was decently built (for a mechanic), and could handle himself in a fight. He drove a large van with graffiti all over it, and was an honorary member of Hell's Eagles (he would have been a full member, but he didn't own a bike). Nick wasn't a criminal, despite the crowds he hung out with, and usually didn't join in on the fights that the Eagles got into. Tonight was an exception it seemed, and pretty soon he was in a ball of tangled limbs with Mark, both of them trying to gain the upper hand.

By now half of the bar was in on this, with the bartender continuing to clean glasses as usual, occasionally giving a pointless yell or warning. Most of them knew how it went around the Wheel- sometimes fights could be broken up, and sometimes there were barfights that lasted up to thirty minutes that were impossible to stop. Trying to break up a large scale barfight would only end with you either getting your ass kicked, or joining in on it. Some of the bystanders began to bet money, and others just threw their glasses or plates at the fighters to stir up more chaos. The two gangs continued to fight, getting more and more rowdy as time went on. Anyone that wasn't interested in the fight would probably be wondering how long it would last, and how bad the results would be. While it didn't have the potential to be as long as the Wheel Storm of '72 (which technically lasted 3 hours and ended with police intervention), it was certainly a large enough fight to get lost in the crowd...


Birdsie Saturn_moon Ayama SparrowVale

 

[Ayama]

The Reaper

[class=picture] position: relative; display: inline-block; [/class] [class=text] position: absolute; width: 100%; height: 100%; top: 0; left: 0; opacity: 0; background-color: rgba(0,0,0,0.2); color: white; z-index: 2; [/class] [class name=text state=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [div class=picture] [div class=text]

"I cut down everything in my path."​

​

"Leave the weirdos," Madeline responded as she slammed her fist into the table with uncharacteristic animosity at the Crimson Scorpions' entrance, counting up their adversaries and suggesting with a smirk that Reid take on two of them. In a rare reversal of roles, Sam was the one to make an attempt at conversation, albeit just about as provocatively as he could.

Behind them, Ramsey was making an effort to calm Tara down, which was appreciated. The rest of them couldn't focus on keeping Tara from going nuts at the same time as fighting the Crims or chasing down that pair of creepy strangers. In typical fashion, Chachi thew a knife directly past the Crims' heads, downed her drink, and swaggered away to the bathroom with nary a care- Reid wanted to roll her eyes at the theatrics.

Tony sided with Madeline on the issue, and Reid growled low in her throat. She owed Tony a lot, and she was a loyal member of the gang, but the idea of letting those two just saunter out of there... She ground her teeth as Tony gave the Crims' leader a fair warning which she was sure he was going to ignore. Sure enough, the dumbass swung a poorly-executed punch at their leader's face. There was a moment of silence, then all hell broke loose (pun most definitely intended).

One of the beefiest of the bunch charged Madeline head-on, and came to regret it. They tussled for a bit, Madz' small frame and agility more than compensating for the guy's bulk, until he roared like a bull and tackled her, sending her flying across the bar. Reid winced at the sight.

Samuel, meanwhile, rushed another guy like an angry bull and decked him within five seconds. When another guy started choking him, he smashed a bottle into the guy's head. Then he took a swig of another bottle before smashing that one over the head of the guy tussling with Madeline, asking if she was ok. And that was three of them taken care of- four, if you counted Mark, and Tony had him pretty well in hand, though a second guy had since come to his aid.

Luckily, at that point, Nick decided to get involved. Reid liked Nick- he'd been the second person to take her under their wing when she arrived in town, after Tony; helping her learn about bikes and letting her practice and work in his garage. Since he seemed to have Mark handled all right and Chachi still hadn't returned from the bathroom, Reid faced the two remaining member of the Crims.

One was another dumb brute, built like a truck with a brain the size of a walnut. He lumbered towards her and clumsily swung, but she easily dodged, and swept his feet out from under him. After that, she didn't need to worry about him any further, as he was quickly mobbed by drunken Wheel patrons eager to get in on the action.

Which left... Astro Romano, the Crims' only chick. She was just as meaty and the rest of them, but quicker on her feet and quicker to react, with more precise, dangerous punches. She and Reid had tussled before on more than one occasion, and she was a tough opponent. Normally, she would relish a fight with a well-matched adversary, taking her time with it, challenging herself. But today, she was in a hurry, so she charged straight at her with a somewhat uncharacteristic lack of finesse, and punched her straight in the face.

The hit wasn't enough to knock Astro down or out or anything like that, but it did leave her dazed enough for Reid to quickly slip past her, weaving in and out between the smaller fights that had broken out and making it to the door relatively unmolested. She burst out onto the dark street, illuminated by one solitary streetlamp, and looked around frantically for signs of the two strangers from earlier.

It had been less than a minute since they'd left and yet, there was no sign of them. Reid stood very still, straining to hear something- an engine, a footstep, a voice- nothing.

She gritted her teeth and let out a frustrated roar, turning around to head back into the bar. If those fucking morons hadn't shown up at precisely the wrong moment, she wouldn't have lost them. She might as well, she reasoned, take out her rage by pummeling as many of them to a pulp as possible, and then pummeling them some more. Rage, after all, turned toxically inward if it didn't have a proper target and outlet.

As she reached for the handle on the Wheel's door, she huffed out a dispirited sigh. She'd finally found them, after all this time, and she'd let them get away... She felt a sudden shiver run down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature of the night air, and suddenly worried that foolishly following them out here on her own hadn't been the smartest idea.

Better get back inside, she thought to herself as her hand gripped the door handle, not wanting to explore if she was doing so out of loyalty, wisdom or fear.

[/div][/div]

codedbycrucialstar | hover quote & hidden scroll​

 

[Inheritance]

Tony Eagle​

Despite two strange things happening tonight-One with the Scorpions attempting to take over their bar, and two with the strangers- The fight settled down pretty quickly. Maybe it was because most people in the bar were tired of the Crimson Scorpions' shit, or maybe they were taking the Eagle's side because they were just as unnerved by the two strangers as they were. Either way, with the skilled fighting of the gang, some help from the audience, and Nick's timely arrival, the fight ended decently quickly, and pretty soon the scorpions were dragging their knocked out friends from the bar, or jumping on their bikes and riding away in fear. Shouts of "I'll get you next time" and "you got lucky, punk!" rang through the night air as the Scorpions scattered, leaving the members of the bar to pick up the pieces of what had happened.

Tony released a member he had been grappling with after one last good hit, letting him follow the rest of his group into the night. He stood up and looked around, proud of how the group had done. Nick was brushing some glass off of his shoulder, his glasses broken and his nose bloody.


"Good to see ya again Nick! Fancy seeing you in the middle of a fight!" Tony said, clapping him on the back as they returned to their booth.

"Aye...I figured you guys would be here and I wanted to talk to you guys about something...who knew the Crims were gonna try some shit tonight!"

They were at the booth now, most of the group gathering back up. Nick greeted them all, flashed a warm smile at Reid. He had always liked her, and marveled at her talent for fixing things up. He had been a mechanic far longer than her, but damn any day now she was about to pass him up. She was a natural. But he had come here for more than a fight, and in a hushed tone, started to speak.

"Alright, so I heard you guys wanted to know a bit more about what has been going on around here. Shit's been hitting the fan since you left. I'm sure you've already heard about the grocer's disappearance, but did you know that his wife is suddenly gone now too?" He paused for dramatic effect, looking at each one of them. "Rumor has it that the last time she was heard, there was a Red Corvette parked outside her house..."

It looked as though he wanted to say more, but Tony shushed him. The entire bar seemed to be listening in, the normally rowdy crowd completely silent as they listened to Nick's hushed tones. "Maybe we should chat about this somewhere else?"

"Ah right...well why don't we go to the drive in? They're playing Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Should be fun...and we can chat there." Nick said.

"Why not your place?"

"The night is still young! You guys have been gone for a while, we should relax before we do something crazy." Nick's broken glasses made it particularly hard to take him seriously.

"Hmm...Fine. What say the rest of you?" Tony asked, addressing the group.






------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tara Lockheart​

By the time the fight was over, she had finally stopped shaking and had gotten a decent hold on herself. Ramsey's words had pulled her back into reality, where a member of Hell's Eagles wouldn't be caught dead with tears on their face. She couldn't believe she had broke like that, and had to sit there being baby sat while the rest of the gang stood up and did the dirty work for her. Tara wasn't much of a fighter, but she hated the idea of being the weak link. She quietly whispered a thanks to Ramsey (anyone that knew her well would know that was a great compliment from her) and started to recompose herself. By the time the rest had gotten there, the only sign she had been weak was that she was untouched by the fight.

She nodded quietly as Nick spoke, the thought of the two strangers being behind all these disappearances becoming more and more real in her mind. Before this it was all like a bad dream: it was possible to ignore. You could wake up and shake it off, and even a reoccurring nightmare could be forgotten in the light of the day. But this situation was quickly becoming more and more real, and their meeting with the two strangers left her angry and scared. At the moment, anything to distract her from those strangers was a good idea to her.

"I think we should go to the movie...it could help get our minds off things..." She said quietly.

Ayama Birdsie Saturn_moon SparrowVale


(We back!!)

 

[Ayama]

The Wight

[class=picture] position: relative; display: inline-block; [/class] [class=text] position: absolute; width: 100%; height: 100%; top: 0; left: 0; opacity: 0; background-color: rgba(0,0,0,0.2); color: white; z-index: 2; [/class] [class name=text state=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [div class=picture] [div class=text]

"Balance real and virtual- or else."​

​

When the Crims showed up, Chachi, in typical fashion, threatened them with a knife and then simply wandered off to the bathroom. Tony stated that taking care of the Crims was what they needed to prioritize- something that seemed to frustrate Reid, judging by the low growl that rumbled in her throat when he said it.

Predictably, they were first to strike, needing only the barest provocation. After that, it was a free-for-all. Tony and Madeline took one each head-on, Samuel charged at one like a bull, decking him with an uppercut before smashing a bottle over the head of the guy trying to strangle him, decking him as well before helping Madz out with hers.

When Tony was done with Mark, a fifth guy came up instead, but by then the rest of the bar had joined the fray- even Nick. Reid stepped forward and strategically swept the feet out form under their last bruiser. Guy went down like a ton of bricks and was soon lost in the brawl. Then she punched Romano in the face- something she wouldn't usually have done, slipping past her and quickly out the door.

Alarmed that she was clearly intending to go after the two strangers on her own, Ramsey stood up in his seat, trying to find Tony and get his attention. The fight was already dying down anyway, the Crims running out of there with their tails between their legs. Before Ramsey could flag Tony down, Reid walked back in, looking a little dazed and unnerved, and also, somehow, incredibly pissed off, her hands balled into fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

She barely acknowledged Nick when he greeted her- which was indicative of how upset she must've been, since she was basically a protegee of his and liked the ol' guy a whole lot. It didn't even seem like she was paying attention to what he was saying, even though the words sent a shiver down Ramsey's spine.

Another disappearance, he worried, taking a long drag from his cigarette. When Tony suggested they talk elsewhere and Nick suggested the drive-in, Ramsey snorted. "They're playing Texas Chainsaw Massacre," he'd said, as if the projectionist weren't sitting in the booth with them.

He shrugged when Tony asked what they thought- it was moot to ask him, since he'd be going to the theatre anyway. He glanced over at Tara, who quietly agreed. She'd managed to get ahold of herself, but she was still more subdued than usual. He silently wondered if seeing a horror movie right now was really the best way to calm her down...

[/div][/div]

codedbycrucialstar | hover quote & hidden scroll​

 

[Saturn_moon]

A deep ache throbbed in Madeline's side which had taken the brunt of the impact. "Christ. He's built like a damn brick wall." She muttered as she pushed herself off the bar and checked to make sure nothing was broken. Looking around, the Wheel was in a complete mess with spilled drinks and broken glass littering the floor. Random patrons seemed to also have joined in the fight whether because they were siding with the Eagles or because they were simply itching for a fight she couldn't tell. Whatever it was, with the additional fists, the fight was swiftly put to an end with the remaining standing Scorpions hauling their semi-conscious members out the door with their tails tucked firmly between their legs. That should keep them from messing with the Eagles for a couple of weeks... or days, because they were apparently just that stupid.

"You okay?" Samuel asked coming over to check on her.

"A little bruised but I'll live." She replied. "Thanks for the back up." It was then her eyes fell on the bottle that Samuel held in his hand, emptied of its contents, and they widened with horror. She tried to find the words to say but drew a blank and simply let out a pained groan.

Before rejoining the group, she poured out eight shots of whiskey and brought it over to the table. After the night they had, it was much needed. Placing a glass in front of Tara and Ramsey each, she gave them a look that said that this was a one time exception. Sliding into the booth careful to not move her side too much, she tiredly listened to Nick and Tony's conversation. At the mention of the red corvette, something tugged at Madeline's memory. A car like that wasn't hard to spot in a town like Jacksonville, but for the life of her she could figure out where she'd seen it. Tony quickly shushed him and suggested they head somewhere less public to continue the discussion. Madeline stood up from the table and started to clear their empty glasses. "I still have a couple of hours before my shift here is over. I can meet you guys back at the house after."

Inheritance Ayama Birdsie

 

[Birdsie]

Samuel Lee Thomas​

Samuel nodded to the proposition. "Movie it is."

The night was young, indeed, and it was wasteful not to spend it on recreation while the midnight-blue sky graced them above. It wasn't rare for the Hell's Eagles to win a brawl like this one; they had the manpower and raw experience to kick ass. Even though it left him with a few more bruises than upon awakening earlier that day, he was satisfied.

A bunch of weird shit was happening, at any rate.

The Scorpions were aggressive, pushing for territory where they had none. Idiotic of them, to attack in the open, in the Eagles' own castle, but what else can you expect? They were a bunch of shavetails.

On top of that, the disappearances.

In Samuel's secret heart, he couldn't shake off the idea the strangers that visited their bar had something to do with all of it or knew something about the disappearances. It would be too convenient for a bunch of eccentric freaks to appear at the same time as normal people started disappearing. He kept it to himself, though; Tony had no doubt deducted the same, and if they were to discuss it, it was best done in private, or as a group over a six-pack of brewskies.

But then he supposed, that would be the terminus of tonight's escapades.

Inheritance Ayama Saturn_moon SparrowVale