3762/A Bombay Alley

A Bombay Alley
Date of Scene:	29 January 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Film Freak, Armory, Ares

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Film Freak has posed:
Burt Weston reclines in the back of McNally's pub, his buckled combat boot kicked up on the other side of the padded seat, beneath the table. The languid, pilates-trained actor is enjoying a bottle of expensive Belgian ale, and eating from a plate of nachos piled high with Latin seasoned beef and liquid nacho cheese, an invention he's famous for creating by custom request here. It's quite popular with the downwardly mobile he acquaints himself with.

Jazz music plays for the various hipsters and intellectuals and college age criminals attending the pub tonight, a local movie exposition of rare Sandinista documentaries having ended an hour ago nearby. It's predictable that Burt would be here tonight, a small smile on the kid's face as he dreamily sips his beer. Very few people would guess that this socially introverted, shy movie buff, was a Mafia assassin.

Besides, of course, the lack of an obvious prediliction towards work and the concurrent expense of his meal.

Armory has posed:
Humming Ode to Joy, Lunair is outside. She wears a business suit, complete with tie. Tonight is a work night. She looks around, glancing at the rooftops and squinting. Okay, good. Nothing seems to be up there. Paranoia touched by a feral nature makes her look a little twitchy. But she settles, especially on hearing the jazz music. Mercenary contacts have lead her here. There's a target to be had. And he has nachos. Look for nachos... and the face. Still, is that the best tell? Aren't nachos popular?

It's a distracted little thought, as Lunair steps in. She smiles politely on entering, moving towards the back. It's always safest in the back of the place, isn't it? All the better to spy on a mark. To avoid looking odd, she takes a seat near Burt's booth. Yes, she'll have that, thank you. Ordering something simple, she watches and waits for a moment. Though, there's an owlish blink at Burt. Uh oh.

Ares has posed:
Ares, alias John Aaron, was already sitting down at the nice eatery, apparently taking the time to read a book in his off time. While he didn't exactly choose the most quiet place in order to focus, he decided to be in a place where he could see everything and observe humanity in the modern day. He wore dark clothes, a trench coat, black pants, combat boots, dark blue longsleeve shirt, very european style. his beard seems to have grown out a little bit, but in truth, it just makes him look more..godly? professional? either or.

Though he notices Lunair and Burt performing their duties, as well as many others as the God of War takes notice of his surroundings, humming faintly at what he sees. "Hm..." then he cracks open his book...though he can't help but feel that a conflict was about to arise...

Film Freak has posed:
Burt tips back his glass and takes a long, slow sip of his draught, watching as Lunair enters. The woman gets a fair bit of timid interest from him, the English-American with Crow facial prominence and a shock of wild black hair tilting his head away in the shadows of the bar to avoid being seen watching. As he puts his beer down, he looks away from her, the timing perhaps noticeable as being when she passes his range of vision. Burt pulls his black boot out from under the table and sits up tall, using a nacho to delicately scoop a wad of ground beef and liquid yellow cheese from the plate. He deposits it into his mouth with a bite, chewing slowly as he goes back about his business.

Armory has posed:
Of course, it's always the cute ones you have to assassinate. Then there's Epic Beard Guy, whose beard is +5 to Manliness. She's still humming Ode to Joy to herself as her order is set out in front of her. She seems well mannered, despite the feral aura and mannerisms she uses. Fidget. Munch.

But the peace won't last long. There's a faint flick of the hand, and something blurry is sailing right towards Burt's throat. The motion's hard to see if you're not paying attention. Happily, movie and music make for an excellent distraction. Something about the blade seems off. Its edges are blurry. An expert on weapons might tell she just launched a high frequency blade at him. Now that her card has been played, she leaves a tip and starts moving.

Ares has posed:
Of course, Ares sees this little game that they play. Though he likely notices Lunair due to the conflict in her heart about what she's doing...or even the thought about killing this man...violence is the perfect form of worship for a God of War. Thus does he just sit and watch the fireworks from a distance, eyes following her high frequency weapon as it heads for Burt.

What would Burt do now, he wondered? seeing as he's just sitting there eating. hm....quite curious indeed.

Film Freak has posed:
Burt Weston has no superpowers. He's a decent physical specimen, he knows how to handle a firearm, and his entire advantage is being a superb, if not delusional, actor. As the blade sails past, it cuts open his windpipe, and blood sprays onto his meal. He gurgles and lurches forward violently, Edison grabbing his throat and knocking over the table in the booth with a hard slam and a disruption of the peace.

There's no silence in response, merely shouts as people see all the blood coming out of him. Hand over his neck out of basic responses, he stumbles to the side and tumbles to his knee, people rushing to his side to help him. The inner world of reverie he lives in throbs, pulling him out of his idyllic inner world into a set of selections and fictional references, but he's hurt and not able to plan, the choices sliding about as voices and memories and the insights of others.

Armory has posed:
Wince. Lunair wasn't expecting that to happen. No time to consider the results. "I'll call 911," She offers helpfully, and pulls a cell phone. There's the tumultuous rush of having won a fight, but there wasn't much challenge. Anyone who picks up on emotions might sense her disappointment and concern. Too easy. Kind of a dick move, really. She'll grump at her employer later. She'll start to dial, and make her way out. Except she smacks into a chair on the way out. "GAH." Graceful. Her phone falls, and she reaches for it. Still time to make it. Gotham police are notoriously slow responders. But there's a primal disappointment, a disapproval. "9... 1... 1. C'mon." Did anyone see her? Still, gotta get out. Gotta call, gotta get-- Facefirst into the door.

Ares has posed:
Ares simply watched events unfold. He didn't seem too overwhelmed or even affected that poor burts neck got slashed. Either way, he looks between Lunair and Burt, before with a sigh, he rises. Looking at Burt, he just shakes his head. "To think one like you wouldn't be so easily felled. It's only slightly pathetic." he whispers to him as he knelt down. "Tell you what...Ill lend you a hand if you can put on an entertaining fight." h says with a small smile, eyes looking at Lunair as if to identify Burt's target for him.

"What do you say?" he says with a small smile. becuase even Gods can have fun sometimes.

Film Freak has posed:
Edison looks up from his position on his knees at Ares, clutching his throat as blood leaks out. His bloody lips curl into a dark grin, snickering as he makes pointed eye contact with Ares. He can't talk, but there's a long, sick chuckle, full of fluid.

In Edison's mind, a gear ratchets into place, and 'Eye of the Tiger' by Survivor begins to play.

Armory has posed:
Oddly enough, outside of getting a weapon out of nowhere, Lunair herself is just a well trained human. But she's in the middle of calling and GTFOing. Then again, wouldn't a fight outside be much easier, unhampered by camera and bystanders? She's not /that/ fast.

Ares has posed:
Ares grins softly to Burt, reaching to touch him with a single finger. He'd find the gash on his neck healed by a sort of magic, vocal cords to, as he gives him a bit of a healing bit before he rises.

"Happy hunting." he says with an amused grin. This could be fun. So he moves to sit right back in his seat, crossing his legs as if to watch events unfold.

Film Freak has posed:
Edison rises to his feet, blood covering his leather jacket and t-shirt and comfort fit jeans. People in the pub back off as he reaches to his scalp and moves his hair with his crimson wet hand, mussing it up to resemble a boxer in the fourth round of a hard fight beneath those Manila lights.

The gear in his mind snaps him into a state of focus, his mind empty as his face turns psychotically focused and his body strikes a prize fighter's posture, face with an accidental, slack-jawed sneer. "I don't know why you're coming into my neighborhood, lady," comes Film Freak as he steps forward, sallying forth as he raises his fists. "But I intend to deliver the mail."

Film Freak delivers a quick left jab as he angles himself into Lunair, another one quickly following, his svelte frame moving his body about as if he was a real boxer. He's nearly mastered the role in a matter of seconds.

Armory has posed:
Lunair is practically outside, when suddenly, her quarry is upon her. Oh, this is positively karmic. Her eyes widen a moment, "... I have mail?" His pun is lost on her. You could power Oprah's sailboat on the whoosh that goes over her head. "Really?" She's more confused than anything. He can probably guess she lived under a rock most of her life. "Also, I came here to kill you, Il Mafioso." She states simply. "You- were-" Was he not just gasping moments ago? A low growl.

Fortunately, it's enough to catch her off guard and get in a good jab. She's a trained assassin, a former child soldier. So she only reels for a moment, pivoting neatly on a foot. "Gah! Hey! I FELT BAD FOR YOU BECAUSE THAT WAS SO EASY!" She huffs, lifting a hand. She's recovering from the blow, and pulls a freaking 6foot long sword that looks straight out of Final Fantasy. "FINE. I HOPE YOU LIKE CLEAVAGE." Because she's going to cleave him. Get it?

Mercifully, it's a very slow weapon.

Armory has posed:
And yes, she's sort of forgotten he's already closed in. The assassin is flustered.

Ares has posed:
Ares just sits and watches, mildly amused. those puns were -god awful- but at least they started to fight. Oooooo! a longsword. that should get the ball rolling.

Film Freak has posed:
Film Freak jukes forward into Lunair's median as she swings the sword to cut him in two, pushing his shoulder into her and letting her arm take his side, head down and against her. The length of the sword means he'll have to stay tight.

"Hey, sister, I don't know what kind of guy you think I am, but I like my cleavage without the iron," Film Freak replies with a low, confident baroque Bronx tongue. He pushes back after the sword has been swung behind him, in his trencher boots, launching another left jab punch, before he churns his upper body about with a hard straight punch at her nose.

Film Freak has one major disadvantage in a fight like this, and it's the fact that playing it smart is often the opposite of playing his character. If he could street brawl without psyching himself up, he'd stay close so her weapon couldn't be a threat with its length, and slam into her with gutshots. But the referee, Ares, would probably be against him doing a tie-up in the corner, right?

Armory has posed:
And Lunair is flustered and annoyed. HE SHOULD BE DEAD, OKAY. HE'S BREAKING THE RULES. And he's one hell of a hand to hand fighter. Part of her wants to end it quickly - maybe a blade, maybe filament wire... And part of her is kind of glad he's fighting back. An easy target is a disappointing target. Not that she'd call anyone easy. That's just hatin'. Her footwork is attempting to keep herself at distance to use the blade, but with him juking, she's paying for each foot.

A low growl as she's nailed hard in the nose and reeling back. "Ugh. Tch." A headshake. She's no slouch, and she's not about to keel over. And if Lunair played smart, she'd've brought her shotgun or finished this fast. But part of her enjoys the fight.

A low swing comes in as she slides hard backwards, nose bloodied. It can't keep up like this, and she knows it. She's backing away, and away. Where's her burner phone anyway? "I DON'T GET YOUR REFERENCES AND IT'S CONFUSING," She finally admits. Nevertheless, she's going for the legs and backing away. Even Gotham cops respond eventually, after all. "ALSO COPS." The volume now goes to 11. Her head hurts, her mark is suddenly up and in her face, the cops are coming and everything is just TOTES RUINED.

Ares has posed:
Ares just watches on with a soft smile. Well, they haven't killed each other yet...only slightly surprising. Oh well...though when sounds tat police are arriving, John doesn't seem like moving either apparently...his eyes fixed on the fight. Come on...it's not -that- hard to kill each other...

Right?

Film Freak has posed:
The low swing of the blade catches Film Freak across the leg, sweeping him off his feet with a swing and a spray of blood. He lands on his side, his crimson fluid splashed across the sports memorabilia on the walls. He turns onto his stomach, and pushes to his feet with a limp. Knocked out of character at the painful blow and the loss of blood, and alerted to the police, he hobbles through the watching patrons towards the kitchen, to escape out the alley.

Armory has posed:
Well, no one's lost any limbs. Lunair is reeling, bleeding from her nose and bruised good. She is at least aware that both of them are screwed if the cops get involved. Letting the sword vanish, she turns to escape, narrowly avoiding tripping. She won't admit it, but she was impressed. Now, she's just in flight mode. Getting the cops on your case is the worst. And now she's probably got a clever archnemesis out there. Ares might get a curious glance, but that is all that is left in her wake except wind.

Ares has posed:
Ares sees that the fighitng is over as Burt takes a slice of the blade. Shaking his head softly, a small chuckle comes from him as he rises to his feet. "Not bad...very well." he won't kill both of them, since the fight was entertaining. though when no one is looking, Ares vanishes...back to the Areopagus no doubt. his realm needs attention.