10747/Predation Night

Predation Night
Date of Scene:	15 January 2020
Location:	P3, Avalon Heights
Synopsis:	Zealot kills something and gets P3 all bloody
Cast of Characters:	Zealot, Piper Halliwell, Archangel

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Zealot has posed:
Zealot isn't usually much for nightclubs. She finds the sweaty, desperate entreaties of the single and the desperate to be disgusting. People are in too close contact and there's no space to breathe. The music tends to be battering and bar food isn't usually to her taste.

She does like to drink, at least.

Still, there's something nasty in the place, the body she found three blocks away makes that clear enough. It wasn't hard to follow the thing's trail to here. Now the question is where was it and would Zealot be able to find it before it put an end to someone else?

Zealot probably isn't doing the best job of blending. She's at least not clad in her more provocative armor outfit, a red trenchcoat pulled tight around her body, but it's hard to miss the hilt of the sword jutting out over her shoulder. Not a lot of clubgoers carry katana, even on ladies night.

Piper Halliwell has posed:
Piper's turned the music down. The fact there was a monster in here had got her to do that, costume night had got all too real, all too quick. Shaking slightly, Piper's still worried. That....thing got chased three blocks away in Bloodhaven. And she's hoping it doesn't come back. Oh great. Still, the smell of blood's in the air with sweat and sex and lust and alcohol, and fear. Or maybe the last one is soiled pants?

Piper's not soiled her pants. Instead she's keeping a watch on the door, then spies the incoming sword with somebody wearing it. "Hey!" she calls, eyes narrowed. That's all she says, dressed in her usual gear before she's resolving to blow up this woman if she starts trouble. Well. More trouble. Piper's half hiding behind the bar, too.

Zealot has posed:
Zealot shifts her gaze sharply to meet the eyes of the witch, "Something hunts here. I'm hunting it. Stay out of my way. I'll take care of it," she says in a crisp tone, her voice without accent, her blue eyes piercing and unyielding.

There's a scream in the club itself, a young woman leaning against the wall and gripping at her arm, blood gushing out as whatever it is bit her when she got too close. Zealot isn't sure what it is, but it seems close to rabid.

Piper Halliwell has posed:
Piper sets her feet and spins on a heel to watch the woman, and shakes her head. P3's her club, damn it. She's gonna.....cede to the big sword. Great. What is it with people bringing weapons into the club? Oh, she needs to talk with her bouncers on this one.

"Costume night's so not happening again" Piper snaps and stares over the club. Throwing vanquishing potions around is a sure fire way to get in a world of trouble, ain't it?

Zealot has posed:
There's a bit of a ruckus and suddenly the crowd parts to reveal the figure of a young man in a leather jacket. Only his mouth is full of razor sharp teeth and his skin appears to be splitting at the seems, showing something reptilian and unpleasant underneath the human shell.

Zealot draws her sword and gestures towards it. "I'd offer surrender, but you've already gutted one woman tonight. Kneel and I'll take your head clean. Fight and I'll make it hurt."

Piper Halliwell has posed:
Piper's watching carefully. Well, that's no Whitelighter. Not in the....that's a sword. Either Whitelighters took lessons from Errol Flynn, or....okay, surrendder? Great. This just got weird. She needs to figure out what's going on. Also, needs to remember to keep this from hitting the media, though it's Bloodhaven. Just somebody in a costume with fake....

Oh snap. Those aren't fake. Piper looks to Zealot and shakes her head at the thing, as she balls up her fists. Oh, Piper wants to punch something right about now. Instead, she's breathing hard. Oh she is not a happy witch. Which is not a good idea, really. Shaking her head for a moment, Piper just watches.

Zealot has posed:
The thing leaps at Zealot, claws ripping through human fingers to try and slash at the red clad woman. Zealot moves with an almost lurid fluidity, dodging the attacks with a grace and ease that makes it seem as if she's hardly bothered. Which she isn't.

She shifts and strikes back, a booted foot snaking out from under her coat and clipping the thing under the jaw, sending it flying backwards to smack into the bar next to Piper, landing in a heap with a snarl.

Piper Halliwell has posed:
Piper throws her hand out. She's not sure what her powers will do given her heightened emotional state. Great. Just....great, Piper's not wanting to blow up half of P3. But. But...that's kinda a bad thing wrecking her club. She leaps back as the thing lands.by her, watching it silently for a moment. "Get the hell out" she snarls at it. Yeah, like it'll just say sorry and leave. Maybe it's really a Cnadian monster?

Zealot has posed:
Piper's magickal attack ends up blowing the thing back up into the air, letting it yowl almost like a wildcat at it tumbles head over heels. Maybe it would've landed on its feet.

Instead, it lands to a sinuous slice of Zealot's razor-edged katanas, the Kherubim steel splitting it at the waist and making it land in two twitching pieces in the middle of the dancefloor. Very messy.

To say the crowd is evacuating would be an understatement.

Piper Halliwell has posed:
Piper's not even got a sarcastic comeback. She's just watching, and staring silently. Oh, this is going to be a pain to clean up. Hey, maybe that woman can clean it up as payback for messing up the club? Maybe.

Piper vaults the bar and shakes her head at the mess. "So" Piper says firmly. "What do you think you're doing, aside from, well, messing up my club?" she asks with a look that's all you messed up my club, now you clean it up...very much the look a mother gives their kids for not tidying their room...

"What was that thing?" Piper asks, shaking her head. "I....what was that?" she asks, unsure what to make of it all.

Zealot has posed:
Zealot shakes out her blade, walking up to the bar and taking a cloth, smearing the gore from the weapon with a practiced hand. "Daemonite half-breed. Not a particularly bright one," she says. "Nothing contagious. I can dispose of the body. You can clean up the mess it made," she says.

"I hunt things like him. Or sometimes people, when the money's right," she says, not apparently ashamed of her profession. "No charge tonight."

Piper Halliwell has posed:
Piper watches. She watches silently with a shrug. "So you're what, a paid killer?" she asks with a sigh gesturing to the mess. "You decided to hunt in my club, tonight?" she asks with a groan. "Really. Of all the nightclubs in the world and you wander into mine....with a sword to killl a big demon thing. If you said it was a demon I'd have dealt with it, with your help" she grimaces, thinking how much of a pain in the butt cleaning up will be...yeah, that's kinda a bad idea, really. Cleaning up is sort of needed right now, given the past few moments. Least the crowd ran away...fortunately.

Zealot has posed:
Zealot shakes her head, "I decided nothing. The creature killed a girl, not far away. I hunted him from the spot of his victim. He's the one you should blame for disrupting your club. I just happened to find him here. I didn't consider the reputation of your business worth the additional blood he might spill," she says. She doesn't seem defensive or upset, however.

"Daemonite. Like a demon, but not quite. An alien species that possesses humans and alters them. This one, however, was only a half-breed. A child of a possessed human. Cursed."

Piper Halliwell has posed:
"He's. Dead." Piper points out like it's not obvious, still she listens though and shakes her head. "See, I'm not angry at you. Not in the least. But" she points out. "More curious. Why in here?" she asks, moving to get drinks. She gestures to the bar. "You want anything after, you know, saving my club? It's on the house" Piper offers.

Zealot has posed:
Zealot shrugs, "Perhaps he thought he could lose me in here. Perhaps someone here seemed like likely prey. I admit, I did not bother to interrogate him. I am much less interested in whys. I am a practical sort," she says. "Drinks I would like. Red wine, if you have anything decent. If you don't, bourbon."

Piper Halliwell has posed:
Piper reaches back for a bottle. "We got a little left, and a bottle. So call it one and a half bottles. That do?" she nods, oh she's being cautious right now given recent events...she's trying her best to be friendly enough. But. But...

Sliding both bottles down the bar, and a glass, Piper listens. "I'm more interested in the whys so it doesn't happen again. You and I are both practical" she offers with a nod. "I just don't like swords. And...you're not a Whitelighter, so...." she adds stating the insanely obvious. Which isn't really a huge shock.

Zealot has posed:
Zealot raises an eyebrow, "A Whitelighter. Not a term I've encountered very often, usually associated with a few particular groups," she says. She looks around with a closer eye, noting a few charms and blessings that might be hidden to the untrained eye. Zealot's dipped her hand into sorcery a time or two.

"If you've magickal skill, I can draw a few Daemonite wards to keep them out. They're particularly susceptible to particular strains of magick. Mostly those invented by Kherubim," she says.

"You shouldn't dislike swords. Swords are magnificent."

Archangel has posed:
So Zealot's going on about demons, Piper's going on about Whitelighters.

Why not throw an Angel into the mix? Having noticed the police presence a couple of blocks over, Warren decided he needed a drink. And he had heard that the P3 was a pretty happening place to get one. What he gets when he enters is... a mess.

Ivory wings tucking in behind him -- not that he could hide them if he wanted to, his keen features take it all in, and then glances to the bar. "Going for shock and awe on the decor?" he asks with a loft of a blonde brow. "Or more Slaughterhouse Five?"

Piper Halliwell has posed:
Piper nods, "Kerubim?" she asks looking uneasy at it. She's run into one or two mentions of them in the Book of Shadows. Alongside the Jersey Devil, bunyip and Easter Bunny. Which was, for some reason, classed under demon. Which, honestly, makes sense to Piper because anything that cute and giving chocolate eggs away is inherently /evil/...the jury's still out on the fairy godmother though. Piper's marked her in the neutral listings. Still she shakes her head at the Kerubim. "Swords are just bits of metal or wood used to stab people or hurt them" Piper says emphatically. "They look pretty, sure. But" she adds with a look, turning her gaze to the newcomer. "Well" Piper starts. "It was normal before Bloodhaven's own SAW happened. You missed the show I'm afraid. So what can I get you?" she adds and glances back to Zealot. "So you are?" she adds, still looking just a bit unhappy at the decor choices...

Zealot has posed:
Zealot regards Warren warily. Still, this wasn't her place and Piper seemed to trust him. She'd dealt with the only threat she'd needed to attend already, her sword back into its sheathe, her hands clad in red leather gloves.

"A sword properly made is a work of art that, properly used, can create art. Deadly art, yes, bloody art, but art nonetheless," she says. She stopped, lest she start slipping into arguments about morality. Humans did get so worked up over such things.

"You may call me Zealot," she says. "The Kherubim are an alien race, human in appearance but not in nature. We have had a degree of influence in the culture of this planet, but mostly we prefer the shadows."

Archangel has posed:
Glancing over Zealot and then Piper, Warren shrugs with a smirk. "I'd say I was just in time." he points out to her as he goes to the bar. "Still serving, or you closed while you call in the cleaning crew?" he asks as he listens to Zealot, then frowns. He knows the name Kherubim. All those adventures in space with the first team of the X-Men. "And I'm sure there's probably a reason that they stick to the shadows." he points out in a frown, a slightly irritated fleck of his wings in thought.

"Hello, Zealot. I'm Warren Worthington." The name of the billionaire may be known by Piper, but he's relaxed about it. "Or you can call me Angel." Not a come-on line. It's a known codename!

Piper Halliwell has posed:
"Oh we're serving" Piper says, glancing to Warren, "Yeah I know who you are, so" she says with a shrug, as if trying to guess what he'll order. Instead, Piper's ready to get drinks, then she looks to Zealot. She's not going to get into an argument over morality, hers is a simple one. Protect innocents. Simple...though she does agree swords are works of art, but....but....

Piper glances to Warren again, then to Zealot again.

Zealot has posed:
Zealot looks at Warren levelly, 'Yes, all the better to avoid being noticed. Of course, times are changing. The world grows more chaotic. Mutants and superhumans and others wear gaudy colors and stand before the world. Stealth isn't as much as an option as it used to be," she says.

"I'm familiar with the name," she says. She tries to keep track of who the movers and shakers are. After all, the wicked and the damned always assembled power, often under handsome faces.

Archangel has posed:
"Glinlivet Winchester, if you have it?" Warren inquires of Piper. "If not, Dalmore Single Malt, neat, please." A smile of warmth is given to Piper, before he glances to Zealot. He's seen that look before. When he was both the damned and the wicked, with wings of metal and he rode upon the pale horse as the Horseman of Death.

"You'd think I'd remember a woman as fetching as you. Ah, we must not have met yet." That has to be the explanation as to how Warren hasn't met her yet, as he turns his attention back to the bar to wait for his drink.

Piper Halliwell has posed:
Gaudy colors. That draws a snort from Piper. "You mean people just put neon on their clothess?" she asks with a look to Zealot and Warren then to the wine bottles, "You want anything else?" she asks Zealot then turns her attention back to Warren as she sets both bottles and tumblers by him. "I'm not responsible if you pass out or hurl. It might help the decorations" she says dryly.

Looking over, Piper glances back to Zealot again. She's so not ready to argue morality with her. Or Warren for that matter, though she nods to the bottles. "If you don't want them I'll put them back?" she asks simply, then looks over both of them.

Zealot has posed:
Zealot speaks firmly, "I fetch for no man," she says, taking a long drink of the wine this time. "This will suffice," she says to Piper's question.

"I mean they stopped hiding. The powerful and the magickal used to be secret things in this world. More and more, they come into the light. I'm still not sure if it's a good th ing or not," she says.

Zealot has posed:
Zealot speaks firmly, "I fetch for no man," she says, taking a long drink of the wine this time. "This will suffice," she says to Piper's question.

"I mean they stopped hiding. The powerful and the magickal used to be secret things in this world. More and more, they come into the light. I'm still not sure if it's a good th ing or not," she says.