Owner	Pose
Lucifer	It was an odd request. Well. It would have been an odd request if it came from anyone else but Betsy. Nathaniel could maybe get away with it too, but generally he knows that if he wants Lucifer out of the club for a night he just has to ask. This is more an ask of closing the club for an evening so that certain people of a variety of sorts and particular set of skills could gather at a place where comfort comes with free drinks and food. Lucifer was inclined to agree. So he's shut Lux down for an evening. Which means this isn't really a Friday night. It's more like a Wednesday. Because that night wouldn't hurt his business as much as closing on a busy week-ending night would. And then the summons were likely made. Lucifer would tell Nathaniel about the meeting that would be taking place at Betsy's request, and surely Betsy would some how get the message to Logan. Which means Logan will have to come to the Devil's Den. And play nice.
Psylocke	Word goes out via the X-Force secure phones: Meet tonight at Lux. -B Not much more than that. Must be serious -- enough that she wanted it somewhere private and safe enough. Betsy's a little late; heels clicking across the floor. Despite the message, she's not dressed for action -- instead, in a sleeveless silver dress more suited to a fancy party, kept warm by the purple coat she wears over the top of it. She's carrying a large gift bag, setting it on the bar top when she nears. "Every time I make plans to get here when you're open, plans interfere," Betsy says, in lamentation. "Thank you, Lucifer," with a thankful smile towards him. "And Happy New Year." She'll lean to kiss his cheek if he allows, the woman bright and content.
Logan	Logan's out chopping wood, trying t prepare for the oncoming storm later this week. Then there's a message of a secure signal. "Meet-," Logan begins to mutter the simple words. Then he sneers. It's tempting to take the axe in his hands to the communicator. He won't. it's just tempting. "Gonna get me some Holy water or somethin' onna these days. Put it in a spray bottle?," he continues to mutter. Logan will ready himself for the Devil's Detention Center. Any ill feelings between Logan and Lucifer are due to guilt by association. The Sins of Sinister rubbing off on the King of Sins. Although Logan -believes- Lucifer is who he says he is. That sulfur smell is way too strong. And there's an actual God that's an Avenger. It's not exactly out of the question someone from a different pantheon of myth shows up to the party. Logan will show up to the club. Just wearing something simple, jeans, a flannel shirt, the tan cowboy hat, brown bomber coat and the cowby boots that announce his presence. They "Thunk" against the floor with each step. When he makes his way to the group he'll just say, "What happened?" No Hello. No waves. In his mind this is something bigger to bring him -here-.
Sinister	Definitely a Wednesday. That just makes good business sense -- as does not wasting the time when the place is shut. Essex at the bar, has a smartscreen laptop out and is quietly cheating the stock exchange on behalf of a lost night of revenue, not that this is particularly illegal. It isn't, he simply has a good eye for these things and can trade with a thought. If the bar is going to be shut quasi on his behest, this is the least he could do. Dressed casually, he actually has his rose-coloured lennon glasses perched on the end of his nose, hair tied back, looking like an ordinary fellow in a white long-sleeved shirt that he's rolled up and fastened at the elbow. Waistcoat, slacks, no squeaky raven slippers though... DM's for the nonce. He looks up to the vision in silver and the Alberta Stampede that wandered on in, inclining his head and simply watching the interaction between Lucifer and Betsy. "And a happy new year to you also, my dear... I trust everything is Situation normal, all fucked up?"
Lucifer	Lucifer leans his cheek out in offering for Betsy to kiss it, and then he kisses her cheek in return. "Anything I can do to help you and yours with what needs to be done, my dear. So long as it's not on a night good for business. So Monday to Thursday could be yours for the taking." Of course, he's got a bartender, the chef, and a couple wait staff on so that everyone can be served in due time should they wish food or drink. They will be compensated as well, no one has to fear about that. Lucifer is good for such things, even on a whim. Perhaps especially on a whim. As Logan enters, he looks up and over, raises a brow and then gives the man a nod of greeting. "Beer, Logan? You've got a taste for that Canadian brew yes? I'm sure I have something on tap that will tickle your taste buds..." He says this and then gestures. "Free of charge for the night. It's all on mine and Nathaniel's dime, and I promise my staff will be well taken care of for working on a night that we've been closed for a special reason." That is all said and done, he looks over Betsy again. "You are quite the vision in silver, my dear. Come. The bar awaits with comfy tables and an open floor for you to talk our ears off if needed." This much and then he heads to the bar proper, giving Nathaniel a kiss on the back of his head, chuckles at what he spies on the laptop screen and then side eyes his lover fair. "Cheeky."
Psylocke	"You always make the most tempting offers, Lucifer," Betsy says, with a laugh. "/Too/ tempting. I'll show restraint, though. Your place has a reputation for good reason and I shouldn't want to interfere with that." She's happy to be guided to a comfortable seat, slipping out of her coat and setting it nearby. "Though I /might/ beg you to play a little later..." The smile the purple-haired telepath gives Sinister is just as warm, just as bright. "And to you, Nathaniel. As much as anything. I have a surprise for later," she says, and the way she says 'surprise' is full of anticipation, "Hence being extra thankful to our resident devil for being so accommodating." "But, first... gifts." Gifts? Yeah. Maybe her intent is to test Logan's patience. Or at least try and soothe the troubled waters within the group. "Happy New Year, Logan," Betsy greets him with a smile. "You first, because you have a /look/, and you'll enjoy staying for the events later." She reaches into the white bag, and pulls out a wrapped, rectangular present, offering it out to Logan expectantly. His sharp hearing will no doubt catch the slosh of liquid as she does. Inside is a leather-bound box, and nestled within that is a bottle of Glendronach single malt scotch whiskey -- just shy of thirty years old and very, very pricey. But it's less the price and more how she'd get a hold of such a rarity. This isn't just her splashing cash. She went to /effort/.
Logan	Logan just waits to see what this is going to all about. Sinister's comment about things being the normal levels of fucked up causes a smirk. They at least hope for similar readings on the world. Lucifer is actually quite the good host. Offering to throw down money, god money, top shelf money. Logan will just say, "No." Firmly. Not a yell. Not a shout. Just enough to make it clear he's not interested. Logan listens to how Psylocke talks to the lovebirds. That catches hs attention inwardly. Like he has a bunch of questions. "Happy New year to ya, darlin'," Logan says, everything softening for her a little bit. He'll take the box, "You brought us here fer gifts?" Logan says with a little concern. However, he will take the box. A second late, he opens it and looks at the bottle. He knows about the effort this took. "I need a glass," Logan says and sits at the bar. He's a little away from the group, but the troubled waters may not be as troubled. "Ya got my attention," Logan says, his way of saying he's not going to leave soon. Betsy knows how to speak Logan. It's an odd thing they share. The pair know how to speak to each other as equals, even if they're ready to kill each other.
Sinister	"Of course, but what else would I be?" looking up and to the side as Lucifer walks on past, that kiss to the crown felt, Sinister turns eyes upon Betsy and inclines his head with a casual grace and a return of the warm smile. A flick of the screen with the tip of a finger and whatever is going on there is set to do it on an algorhythm, which frees up the considerable, if nonchalantly casual attention, to the tasks at hand. "We saw the fruitful offerings of the Drago, which I must admit did look rather smashing. There was a whole thing there..." he muses, watching Logan without actually watching him. The corners of an eye can do a great deal for keeping track, but the whiskey is what draws attention, with another smile -- this one faded -- and a glance to the host in all his Grace. "The water of life endures. Slainte..." a pause "...can I get a fruity thing with umbrellas and an abundance of mixology?" this to the bartender.
Lucifer	Working backwards. The bartender creates a concoction of purple hue that swirls with glittery essence, topped with umbrella and a skewer of fruit they know Nathaniel enjoys even casually. Lucifer gives a nod. "We did. We helped Mr. Drago put together a fashionable outfit for his stage persona that the gift will work beautifully with." He adds on to Nathaniel's story to Betsy and then shifts to sit on a stool aside his partner. A glance is given to Logan as he watches the man open the gift that Betsy has bestowed upon him. "Oooh. That's a very good liquid indeed. Special occassion and all that... unless you just want to get fucked up." He shrugs. "I think I have a bottle somewhere in my personal reserve. Maybe. Not as old though." His eyes drift to Betsy and he gives her the most shit-eating grin he can afford. "The offer is always on the table for you, Betsy dear. I won't even think you're taking advantage. My Nathaniel is working with you to stop something...the least I can do is offer you and yours a safe place to plan and talk and such. Besides... half of what's needed to fix things is upstairs. So if not here, where else?"
Psylocke	There's a bright gleam to Betsy's eyes, a warmth that isn't feigned at Logan's response. "I brought you here for gifts, team bonding, and a little violence. I know you well, Logan." Wait, violence? Nevermind that, Betsy's giving Logan a happy smile that he's settling in and moving onto other things. "I'll take you up on that, Lucifer," she says, a half-promise, half-warning. The next package is drawn out, smaller than the previous one and set in front of the devil. Inside is a small, carved jewelry box, and within that is what looks to be a silvery piece of meterorite strung on a satin cord. It does seem to be genuine, surprisingly heavy. "Hoping you won't swallow this one. Though it should be safe to, if you feel the need." Betsy, it seems, took Nathaniel's advice on what to buy for the devil ("Whimsical things..") quite seriously. "I couldn't resist," though whether that comment's of the gift for Lucifer, or that for Drago, isn't clear. "It seemed to suit and I have been, ah," a glance at Logan. "Perhaps a little /too/ focused on other matters of late." Betsy, admitting weakness. Maybe it's one of her New Year's resolutions. "But I'm very much looking forward to seeing what you've done with Nick's outfit." "Nathaniel... you were the hardest." A look, kind of accusing but not. Betsy looks far too relaxed for that, a small package offered the man. Inside, he'll find a small pouch, with over a thousand Ferrite stones, magnetized. They click and shift together, completely moldable, and smooth to the touch. The ultimate fidget tool. "I thought something to perhaps distract you from more dangerous endeavors. Temporarily."
Logan	Hearing Sinister talk about the drink just confirms what Logan and Psylocke know. He'll just pour it n a glass and dwn the first two fingers. Quick, easy and slamming the glass down. It's the second one that he savors. That one h brings to the lips slwly and just enjoys it. Bety's words to Nathaniel sours Logan a little. Kind of like screamiing the quiet part, and whispering the loud part. "Dangerous endeavors," two words he hangs on. And it's why that first glass went down. Still, he will sit in hs spot and ask. "What happens after gifts?"
Sinister	The exchange of words has the faded smile broadening a little, a dimple showing on one side, even as there's an elevated eyebrow at the concept of violence in Lux. Glancing around the otherwise deserted club, Sinister blinks languidly behind his spectacles and turns the arched eyebrow toward Lucifer -- a kind of silent exchange of permission, perhaps -- only to laugh richly at the gift proffered. "Definitive article when it comes to whimsical, and tacit reminders..." but then there's something being offered to him, as the purple fruitiness of a hurricane is bestowed. He inclines his head toward the barkeep in gratitude, opens the bag and eyes the contents. There's another laugh, this one barked out somewhat and he empties the contents onto the bar, simply gazing as they reconnect thier polarities into the shape of a silver tree, made of tiny stones. Then with a 'pttthpt' sound, he squishes them flat and raises palm, watching as they shift and scurry and form patterns and designs by silent direction. "Beats the heck out of a doohicky that spins... thank you, Betsy. You are most kind." Pause. "Now, tell me more about violence? Lucifer is right though, this is just about the safest place in the region for collaborative social mayhem and brainstorming. The network connects to my tesseract and laboratories." A gesture is made to Logan, as he faintly echos this inquiry.
Lucifer	Lucifer blinks and takes the wooden box from the package that he's handed and then opens the box itself to pull out the very heave necklace with the meteorite piece hanging from it. "Oh that's just perfect. I promise this will not endure the system that is my insides." He wouldn't do that to a thoughtful gift of whimsy from a dear friend. The necklace is slipped over his neck to wear proudly in that moment and then he glances over as Betsy offers Nathaniel another gift. "And us without anything to give you in return. Thank you for this, Betsy dear." There's a glance to Logan with a raised brow. "You really should pace yourself with that stuff. Maybe save the rest for a special moment between you and someone you care for." He smirks. "Just a thought." This much more and then he settles back as Nathaniel probes a bit about the violence bit that was brought up. "Yes. We do enjoy a bit of violence, but I do like to know what we're getting into..."
Psylocke	"You're terrible at surprises, Logan," Betsy chides, but there's no heat behind it. It's almost like she completely anticipated that he couldn't help but to ask. "I might have told a group that smuggles mutants for sale that there's a secret meeting of mutants happening here tonight, hence why the club is closed. Apparently they freelance for Volga, which given he's been selling mutant /powers/ in some kind of blackmarket we're trying to infiltrate -- I'm taking no chances in an uncontrolled environment. They might just be straight human. But they might not be anymore." Yes, there's a look to Lucifer. Aware she's pushing her luck with the host, no doubt, and perhaps asking for forgiveness at the same time in that glance. "There's sufficient time to send your staff to somewhere safe and secure." Watching Sinister play with the present without even touching it is, in fact, a joy. It makes Betsy laugh. It's certainly not the kind of 'fidgeting' it was made for but it also works perfectly. Lucifer is given a bright smile when he slips the necklace on. "Perfect," she concludes. "And I don't expect anything in return. I just want you all to know I appreciate all you do. I know I'm not always the easiest to deal with and I get a little... focused," putting it mildly. "So, thank you." She's absolutely not going to judge Logan for drinking. Aged whiskey was meant to be drunk... eventually. She's mostly just happy he appears to enjoy it.
Logan	"If I don't trust the hosts, the whiskey is a good alternative," Logan says honestly. And he'll seal up the bottle. "But yer right, I should pace it n' save it fer a loved one. Might hit her harder than she wishes," Logan says to the room just answering their various questions and comments. They all say about the same thing and there's a reason why he said it all. The first glass is to feel the small bit of buzzed behavior that'll last for a minute. And the second is to actually taste it. "So, what else is on the docket?" he asks and gives the room a glance.
Sinister	"Ahhh," Sinister nods to the tune of the reasoning behind prolific violent oncoming. He glances to Lucifer, then up at the cameras in the place. All of them, unanimously, get a tiny red light on the side going from lit, to 'dark'. It's a subtle thing, but those with exceptional hearing will also note that the usual noises of electricity in walls and such, just kicked up a tiny notch. Somewhere below the club, a generator kicked things higher? Perhaps. He then eyes Logan, the bar, then rolls his eyes above the rims of the rose coloured spectacles and silently shakes his head a little with it. There is a comment, albeit to Betsy. "You are genuinely magnanimous, Lady Braddock and thoughtful. However, ahhh... I hasten to suspect that Lucifer will quite happily note that he's had a lot of practice in the patience department."
Lucifer	Lucifer shrugs his shoulders as Betsy warns him there is still time to send his staff to safety. "Do not underestimate the staff that I have here now. They are more than what they seem, and I did that delibrately. Helps if things get out of hand when the club is open, but they'll be more than worthwhile to have around if these others show up looking for some mutants to feed off." His ears perk just a little when Nathaniel turns the cameras up a notch but he doesn't say anything. He does give a slight nod of approval if the man is even watching him. "I believe the phrase is patient as a saint... but I can tell you now not all saints have the patience that I do. But..." He shrugs and grins. "Do we have an idea of when these people might come calling?"
Psylocke	"Excellent whiskey and the promise of violence isn't enough for you anymore?" Betsy gives Logan a faux-disappointed look. "Consider this a team bonding exercise then. If Warren can learn to work with Nathaniel, you can, too." Sinister's comment of Lucifer's patience gets a speculative look from Betsy, her lips twitching. "I envy you that, a little," she admits. His talk of his staff being more than capable gets a pleased look. "Good." Makes total sense. Alcohol and people mixing tends to breed violence. "We should have a bit of-" *THUD! THUD!* "-how rude to show up early," Betsy mutters. She's up on her feet immediately. Her gown is not exactly the kind of outfit one fights in. Maybe that's the idea, to put the group off guard? That or she has somewhere else to be and doesn't really think it's going to be that much of a threat. The group that spills inside though is a little larger than she expected. A dozen figures, mostly men but two women in there, too. All of them have either pistols or rifles. The one in front, with a grizzled looking beard that might rival Logan's, looks at Betsy, then around the mostly empty club. "What is this?" "Davey, there're mutants here all right. I can smell 'em," a white-haired woman says, breathing deeply. She points at Betsy. "Her, definitely. But she's not the only one." Davey, the leader, grins. "All right. Let's bag them." The weapons are lifted, most of the group heading right for the bar. "HANDS UP! This isn't a robbery. We don't want your money. Just the mutants. Give them too us, and we're gone."
Logan	Logan hears the sounds of those cameras changing. Just a small turn of the head, it's enough to know that Logan's heard the change. "Betsy speaks and Logan replies honestly, You didn't have him team wit' En Sabah," Logan points out the stark contrast. Warren wouldn't have teamed with -that- name. Logan does view Sinister in a similar disapproval. Sinister and Sabretooth are sprinting toward the same violent view in Logan's mind. Ocean blue eyes look between the different cameras. "I'll take a bottle afterall. Whiskey. Middle shelf. Bottom shelf. Ain't picky. Leave the bottle," and Logan will wait. Everyone starts to come in asking for the mutants. It is tempting to give up one, or two, people. One DEFINITELY doesn't qualify as one. The other is questionable. He'll wait for the bottle. The plan in his mind starting to change. Ocean blues look over at different spots in the ceiling. Luc would know, Logan is making note of the cameras. His head just occasional look in the direction of one.
Sinister	Sinister remains seated at the end of the bar as fracas arrives in the form of people with guns. It is a thing that requires him to take off the spectacles perched on the end of his nose as the people get talky and pointy of weaponry -- all so he can studiously clean the lenses with a soft cloth from his sleeve. He returns them to his nose, only to peer over the top of them at the various best-in-class for thuggery of the year awards. "Well, I suppose now we're supposed to put our hands up? How about you put yours up good sir?" He raises his hands, his gaze behind the rose-tinted spectacles going redder in this human disguise he wears. There are many cameras. Unlike many places that exist that have such security which in the modern world is just about EVERYwhere... these look as if they're placed with a logic that honestly does cover nearly every square inch of space. Unless the person was ant man and hid BEHIND the lens itself that is, they'd record just about the whole area. Are they off? or did they just switch to a different spectrum? Or are they now some enormous interconnected weapon? Who knows. Presumably one individual knows at least... ...But Sinister's attention isn't so much upon the people as he raises his hands, so much as the weapons. Application of telekinesis doesn't have to be obvious after all, in fact sometimes it can be EXTREMELY subtle. Like jamming internal firing mechanisms... he has performed brain surgery with his mind as the extra sets of hands. That? That is trivial by comparison.
Lucifer	"Do mutants have a smell?" Lucifer asks this while leaning over and sniffing Nathaniel a couple of times. "Mmn.. you used the sandalwood wash recently. I like it." A little grin and then he takes one step, two, and is in front of the leader, looking him up and down a moment. He lifts a hand to place it over the barrel of the man's gun. "I shall give you one chance, and one chance only to reconsider your life choices. Turn around, and head out of my club. You will be taking no mutants tonight, and if you force my hand, you all will be going back where you came from in your own bags." There's a moment taken to eye Logan, wondering what the man is doing ordering a bottle of whiskey. And paying attention to the cameras. The cameras aren't your enemy, Logan. But he won't say anything to that affect. Instead he looks back to the man who's gun he's holding by the barrel. The bartender hands Logan a bottle of golden amber liquid. No questions asked. Then he steps back and to the side, walking towards the exit of the bar to come around near the middle end of the group that's approaching them. He's silent. In fact, no one can likely ever remember THIS bartender uttering a word. He just grins. "Oooh. I know. Perhaps what we should /really/ do is play a quick game of the floor is lava....literally..." Tho, nothing happens to the floor. Yet.
Psylocke	The fact that the array of people here don't immediately submit in the face of openly superior firepower /should/ really give the group a clue that things are not what they seem. In fact, one or two in the group suddenly look nervous, glancing around as if expecting others to bust in. Davy, the leader though, merely smirks at Nathaniel. "Not a chance." His eyes narrow at Lucifer. "Funny. I was gonna offer you the same deal, bud." Davey squeezes the trigger, expecting that he'll blow off Lucifer's arm at the very least. Instead, all that happens is a sad little 'click'. "The fuck?" he frowns, then he reverses the gun and seeks to use it as a club against Lucifer's head instead. In the group, there's other mutterings as they all realize their weapons are useless. The white-haired girl points at the bottle-ordering Logan, then after a moment of hesitation at Sinister, too. Several men branch out towards each of them, one going for Logan drawing a taser with the intent of hitting his back, the others just seeking to seize Sinister. Behind them, near the door, the one that dares point his rifle at Betsy suddenly finds the weapon -- and himself along with it, thrown halfway up to the next level, and unceremoniously dropped just as fast. She glances over her shoulder at the door and it 'clicks', the lock shifting, as she smiles.
Sinister	Sinister's eyes shift to the approaching individuals planning on simple accosting. His hands are up, after all and Lucifer is engaged in... playing the game? It is often the case when one must take one's fun where one can, the rest of the time it's sharp lines and exquisite taste, after all. He shifts slightly on the stool though, squaring to the oncoming fellows, but his gaze is on the woman with the white hair. At her, he smiles, close-mouthed and using only his lips and he even does allow himself to be 'accosted', perhaps just to see what they do. "They pay you well?" is asked "Medical? Dental? Optical? I hope you have a good pension, life insurance and the like..." lasse faire in the commentary, he looks at each of these ruffians in turn as he does so, his red gaze getting a bit brighter. "I'm not sure what you're planning on doing with me, considering you can't let go of me now. I'd surrender if I were you. It'll probably be less costly on all those benefits you probably don't have."
Lucifer	The trigger is squeezed, Lucifer doesn't even flinch. No bullet comes out, the gun just clicking where a shot should have been. Davey is appalled and then goes to use the gun as a blugeoning weapon against Lucifer's head. With a quick raise of his arm, Lucifer grabs the gun, twists Davey's arm around until the man is crying out in pain before slamming the weapon back against Davey's own face. Broken nose. Likely fractured forearm. He then gives a quick roundhouse sweep of leg against Davey's own to pit the man down on his back and steps on the man's groin for good measure. "And you're the leader of this mob? How quaint..." The bartender gives one look to Lucifer who gives a single nod in return. Then the bartender grows a good foot higher in height, his clothes burn away to reveal the burnt and peeling skin of a daemon in disguise. Arms reach out to grab the two closest of the mob nearest him and he bashes them together while they stand stunned at what's happening before them. He's a behemoth of a daemon on a rampage until his Master tells him to stop. It's fun. "Nathaniel, are you teasing with the guests again? You know that's not quite nice." All calm and collected is Lucifer who takes note of anyone left either stunned motionless, pissing in their pants, or heading for the doors which have been...locked? Bravo Betsy.
Psylocke	Two of the men each grab Sinister's arm, the third raises his gun with the intent of striking Sinister. When his eyes turn redder, the one on Sin's left tries to take a step back, and that's when he realizes he can't lift his hand from Sinister's arm. "The fuck?" he starts to panic, trying to jerk back. "Hold him still!" the other guy hisses. "Fuck me!" the first one yells as he brings the weapon down as hard as he can, to try and knock the red-eyed monster out. Oh yeah, they can paid real well. Not as well as their boss, to judge by the thoughts that surface, but none of them know that. Davey's busy with Lucifer. Or rather, vice-versa. He screams in pain as things break, sagging forward and cradling his face. Behind him, a tall man is breathing rapidly in the throes of panic and what he's just witnessed, and suddenly, searing flames shoot out from his fingers. There's no direction to it: he doesn't even really seem to have control of his powers (that appear to be a surprise to his fellows)... things are gonna light on fire. Maybe people's clothes. Maybe furniture. Maybe the bar right next to Wolverine as he drinks, while the demonic bartender reaches over and neatly slams together the figures that were about to attack him. Meanwhile, the two that decided to retreat have to pass Psylocke to do so, and they suddenly freeze. She smiles at them, as their bodies shudder, and a second later she 'releases' them from her mental hold. They collapse, shaking themselves, and crawl with aching slowness towards the locked exit. She lets them go. They'll remember nothing but fear and pain, a contagion that will spread to those they tell the story to, until the mental command fades. That white-haired girl? Oh yeah, she's read the writing on the wall. She's also seen Betsy guarding the exit she came through, so she flees upstairs as the rest of the attack crumbles around them.
Sinister	"Well, not exactly..." SMACK -- Sinister's head jerks to the side, then he looks back with a frown and broken glasses. They mend infront of the henchmen's eyes and he makes his mouth a very small purse as the red in the gaze goes to burning hot coals and consumes the entire of sclera, iris and pupil -- "...Not paid well enough, clearly, miss Moppet. It's passed your bedtime and as for you, Tommy Tucker, your mother is going to be furious when you have to explain the stains. You'll be sent to bed without any supper." Yes, Xavier's not the only one that can make someone think they're six years old. It won't last, but with a shake of his arms, he frees himself of being held and promptly takes the guns. "No play time with these, now go and stand in the corner you two, before teacher gets here and think about what you've done." -- he strides through the dispondant kids in adult bodies, and just grabs the third man by the chest, rather simply lifting him up and bonking him in precisely the right way against a bulkhead, as to knock him clean out. Then there's flames. "Who brings fire to Hell's lounge? I ask you..." flying up into the upper floors of the building, he lands quick as you like infront of White-hair. "I don't think so. I'd sit down and be quiet if I were you, little Bloodhound. You have some questions to answer."
Lucifer	Lucifer sighs and looks around, and then he looks to the flames that have sprung up everywhere. "Oh. So not only are you here to grab mutants, you've brought mutants. That are likely not even actual mutants but humans modified by science to try and be mutants..." He looks back to Nathaniel. "Lover? Someone is trying to play you..and they haven't done a good job of it." Approaching the flames, he sweeps an arm out over them and takes them into himself. He's the King of Hell after all. Fire is nothing. Nathaniel is up with the white haired girl, two have left, two more are in the corner, the leader is a mess on the floor and his demon has at least two in check. Lucifer rarely shows his anger. He isn't nice when he's angry and really he hates it. But when you come into the Devil's Den, mess with his friends and...one who dislikes him...things tend to rub his wing feathers the wrong way. A foot stamps into the ground hard enough to make the floor rumble. "ENOUGH!" Which is really just something said to the group who no longer have a valiant leader standing before them and one other trying to leave before it gets too messy. "You all take a message back to the one who sent you. You have brought trouble to the wrong place. Made your faces known to the wrong people. I am Lucifer Samael Morningstar, and this and those within it are under MY protection. As are any and all the people linked to those in this building. You hunt mutants for your own gain? I will hunt you for my own sport. Until each and every last one of you including the one who sent you, is taken down." He pauses and glances around. "I suggest you take that message post haste and get the FUCK out of my club. Your leader and the bitch upstairs are staying with me. Now..." Another pause. A breath taken. "Get. Out."
Psylocke	Mouths open and close as overwhelmed brains try to process a complete mental-180 that presses down inevitably on them as Sinister pulls their minds open. "Yes, teacher," the one says glumly one the other stamps his foot and huffs but they both obediently go over into the corner, completely pliant. The last guy just has a seriously bad day, starting with seeing Sinister not only resist the attack but heal his glasses? His mouth gapes, and he gets in a frightful breath before the man knocks him out. Maybe later he'll be thankful for that. Probably not though. White-hair's breathlessly climbing, skittering to a stop when Sinister lands in front of her. She crinkles her nose. "You don't smell like the rest," she says. While she backs away to make it look like she's going to sit down, her eyes are cutting to the side, looking for a way out. She spots the elevator, and makes a break for it at full speed. Two more figures, having seen the creature behind the bar, run towards the exit, only to slam into an invisible wall, so they get the joy of a broken nose and unconsciousness, courtesy of Psylocke. She /tsks/ at the sight of all that fire, looking to Lucifer. Truly she's more curious what he'll do than worried anything will get ruined. Seeing him effortlessly take all that fire into himself is truly a sight to behold. But frightening for the non-mutants for sure, even before Lucifer gives his speech. The full, focused weight of the devil issuing one a proclamation, a threat, is no small thing. One of the men just straight up faints on the spot. The rest scramble for the exit, tugging frantically at the door until Psylocke releases it, and they flee into the night, not even bothering to help their unconscious fellows. Yeah, word's going to spread.
Sinister	"Of course not," Sinister replies, watching as she backs off, tilting his head to the speech being spoken below. She'll have heard that and she's trying to bolt -- but a human bodyweight is trivial. Even a metahuman bodyweight is often not that prodigous when you can lift ten tons with the power of a thought. The elevator doesn't respond to frantic button pushing and suddenly White-hair is airborn, floating back and into the middle of empty space, where she can't grab anything to hold onto, merely levitated. Sin leaves her there, walking to the stairs down and stopping at their Apex to check on the situation below. "Everything in hand? Unfortunately, we're going to tip the strings of that web, but we have some work to do here. I suspect it would be crass of me to vivisect them, yes?"
Lucifer	"If I had any knowledge that the X-Men were looking for them, I would simply deliver these two upon their door steps. But...I also want to make a statement with these two along with the message the others left with." Lucifer says this as he looks between the airborne woman and the incapacitated 'leader'. A glance to his daemon bartender who reforms into his bartender self and steps back behind the bar like nothing ever happened. "But yes. Everything is in hand. No real harm done that cannot be fixed immediately and... well... we've stirred quite a pot tonight I think." He grins and glances over to Betsy. "Lovely work, my dear. But that was hardly the violence I considered to be happening tonight. I didn't even get a bruise."
Psylocke	The leader, Davey, is just rocking back and forward, trying to stem the gush of blood from his nose while he weeps over the pain. He isn't even aware enough of his surroundings to try and escape let alone form a coherent thought. White-hair flails in the air, trying to get purchase and failing. Her desperate, "It was just a job! They made me! I didn't mean to hurt anyone!" is a familiar litany of excuses that put the blame anywhere other than herself. Sinister suggests vivisection. "I wouldn't object," Betsy says. Oh wait, that's not Betsy. Her voice is too cold, too stripped of emotion and diffident to be Betsy. Kwannon so rarely comes out to play these days. Someone who didn't know her might guess (hope?) she was joking. She looks at Lucifer, head tilted. "And you. I will try harder next time to provide what you desire." There might actually be a smile. Perhaps even Kwannon is not immune to Lucifer's charms. Who really could be? It's the devil after all. "I should very much like to pick their brains. Especially that one," she points to Davey. "Shall we split the workload?" is asked of Sinister, with a lift of purple brow. He already has the white-haired woman in hand, after all.
Sinister	"Well, I shall take it under advisement then. Good to know nothing caught. And you managed a fight with your shirt intact, bravo love..." that toward the Devil, he smiles toward Kwannon-Betsy with an incline of the head and simply walks the flailing fish that is White-hair down to the dancefloor space, floating her along like a helium baloon. Whimsy even makes him cause her to bob and wibble a bit as she does so. Only when down to the ground once more, does he check the computer and see what the stock and trade is doing, idly sets a few more things to be AI traded and nods to the barmen, with a silent gesture toward the Host and his guests. He then marches over to the whimpering leader, crouches infront of him and in a strangely /kind/ voice... says "No more pain..." and that's it. There is no pain from the nose, no agony from the arm, just a silent numbness. He returns to the bar to where his drink will be served and looks at the now upside down and bobbing White-haired woman. "You know, I heard those arguments before. From simple men, swept along in a movement that made them set fire to rabbis and make the entire Jewish neighbourhood watch. The whole temple died trying to save their elders, you know. But they were -just- following orders. They couldn't say no. And eventually, deluded men would kill themselves with cyanide, rather than face what they'd done. One even set himself on fire and failed to char himself to pieces. When I found him, I took what remained of his brain, cooked as it was and stored it in a jar. He really did have a /powerful/ way of writing propaganda and he was gifted with words and an absolute faith that I -doubt- you have. Do you suppose that after you've been complicit in small scale genocide, they'll look at you and say 'Oh well, it was just a job, no harm done then'?" An eyebrow is arched. "They never forgive. And they never forget. Trust me. I know."
Lucifer	Lucifer glances down at Davey, giving a tilt of his head before he unceremoniously picks him up like a sack of potatoes - after Nathaniel has given the man a numbing whisper of words - and carries him over to deposit him at Kwannon-Betsy's feet. "This one is yours to do with as you please. But do share any information you get from him, my dear, so we can all remain on the same page." He glances up and over to the white haired woman hovering above his dance floor and nods. "We'll do the same with anything we get from this one." Everyone else has gone and there is minimal damage to person or property on their side. Which makes the Devil happy. "I hate that this may be where we say our goodbyes but I don't think he should be here when the numbness wears off. Besides, you likely have a safe space to do your bidding within. So... this is where we part ways to meet again later. Thank you again for the lovely gifts...Be safe as you journey."
Psylocke	The white-haired woman flails in the air. Her fear is laid bare, as is her derision for mutants. They are /lesser/, and must be found and excised. Mutants took from her parents -- that's what she was told, over and over. And she wants it all back tenfold. She made the ultimate sacrifice, lowering herself to be subjected to their powers to further the cause. She has been promised many things in return -- recognition, riches, power. Most of all what she wants is to be be known, to gain power, to be able to command others. "We don't. And we won't." Forgive. Or forget. The Dream must be defended. At any cost. It's something Magneto knows. It's something even the X-Men recognized -- some of them -- and the very reason X-Force was founded. Sinister gifts Davey with the lack of pain. Gift being the operative word. It means that after Lucifer brings the man to Kwannon, and the telepath pries open his mind and dives in, he can feel it all. She makes him feel it. And she stops him from being able to verbally or physically express it in any way while he does so. There's just a leaking of water from the corner of his eyes. "This one has no morals. He does this for money, not for any cause. He is a mercenary, nothing more." Her disgust is apparent. "But he has contacts. I shall investigate further and let you know." She dips her head towards Lucifer. "I thank you for playing host." Turning, her heels clip along the floor, as Davey rises and stumbles after her. Possibly not of his own will.