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Just when she thought things couldn't get any worse, Claire St. Claire, the absurdly-named owner of Inanimatum who was presently hiding behind her own bar in fear of her life while a massive brawl raged through the club, felt the sting of fire on her skin.
Her reaction was as instant as it was instinctual. She leapt in alarm, knocking over a glass in the process, as her hands scrambled along her torso in a frantic search for the source of the pain. Right now, it felt like it was coming from everywhere, and the thunderous cacophony of sound that came from an entire club's worth of criminals fighting all at once didn't help her focus.
"... Holy shit," she hissed to herself with a glance over the bartop. Her fingers trailed over a wet spot on her shirt, and she dropped back down, wincing.
Afu, the other bartender, crouched across from her at the other end of the bar and stared at her in complete bewilderment. "Are you okay?" he boomed to her above the chaos.
"Fuck, OW, no dude! Something bit me!"
With two pulls of the trigger and one very convenient ricochet, Claire, Marc Spector, and Elektra Natchios, who'd so fatefully convened that night in the same place at the same time, had all been shot.
Now, they just had to figure out how.
Inanimatum had a familiar feel to it. Between the dingy, dim lights and ask no questions lest you loose your liver air, it was like any other establishment that catered to the villainous of nature. She couldn’t remember if she had been in this particular one yet but she was sure it wasn’t the first time she’d frequented a place of this ilk. There was always a place like this where the cities were large and the targets plentiful.
Tonight she was alone by request and looking for information. She had a specific target in mind that she was here to meet. Someone that she hoped could point her in the next direction to look. If not, well there was more then one way to skin a cat.
She’d dressed dark, her usual evening activity wear blended in just fine under her short black, leather jacket. Black was still very in with this crowd it seemed, as she glanced around the room. She’d staked out a table that gave her a decent view of who was coming and going. She’d already persuaded two men that they really, really didn’t want to sit with her.
Patience wasn’t strong with her tonight, knowing how cold this case had already gotten. She should have been keeping better tabs on the Hand’s activities in the city from the get go but she’d let herself become complacent when it became apparently they weren’t going to take a shot at her right away. What they were waiting for there, that was another question she would asking soon. Vacation time was over now.
She sipped her drink and it was that one word, spoken by the bartender that caught her ear. Her eyes turned from the doorway to the woman behind the counter before pushing her chair back and walking up to the bar. ”Did you say ninjas?” Maybe she should have been looking outside.
Marc shouldn't be here. He had no right to be. But still it felt like there was unsettled debts. Unfinished business he needed to attend to. He knew the club, the same one he had followed the man to before. This time though he was under different cover. This wasn't Moon Knights business, this was his own. A follow up, from a dumb crazy man. Marc was here for his own business.
Walking to the doors he fixed the cuff on his white suit. Sure he stood out, drastically. Dressed all in white, shoes, vest, even the belt was white. His mask was tucked in his coat pocket, along with a pairing of white leather gloves. He needed to be prepared though, and Mr. Knight couldn't just walk up to the club and enter. He was to much for what was needed. So he dissed it back five percent and hoped it would work.
Coming to the doors he went to enter but was stopped. Great. Not just one bouncer but two. "Uh I'm on the list," He said with a smirk. Okay Jake, time to do your talking. A grin formed and Jake rubbed his jaw a bit. "Listen fellas. I'm here on business. You think a guy walking around in a suit like this chooses to come to some shady pisshole. Fucking hell no. I'm here because my client, some two bit pencil necked dealer wanted a public place he could trust. Now you let him inside, so I'm going to need you to go ahead and do the same for me. You ever hear of the deathless one, drug dealer from Argentina. Well I do business for him state side. I hardly doubt you want him coming to fuck your shit up." He stood his ground, not moving. He knew what kind of place this was. What happened here.
Seemed to have worked enough, they let him in and he stepped in, the smirk shifting to that of Marc instead. He spotted the bartender at the bar, good she was here. But he couldn't go talk to her yet, not right off the bat. Best let the room be scoped first. The ring in the centre was interesting, bar was dark and dingy. Had police raid written all over it. Also stunk of crime, Mr. Knight was in his glory. Moon Knight was ready to crack some heads.
As he walked trough he didn't meet eyes with anyone, not right away. Was no need to. But he did take note of a few patrons baring the same burn marks, nice to see his threats meant nothing. He made note of who they were to look at the file later. Moon Knight would check up on them and pay them a visit. Make sure they felt enough pain to stay away this time.
Oh Marc, you saw her right. At the bar. Look. Not as good as the deaf one but she had some fight in her. Maybe you should go buy her a drink. Apologize for putting a hole in her wall.
"I saw," Marc muttered to himself. It was Louise. The elevator girl. The one that scared Steven half to death and went toe to toe with Jake. Of course she had to be here. She was supposed to be upper manhatten. But nothing about her now said that. She was here, in a club that was quite different from her penthouse. Khonsu was right to take notice of her. She had been interesting.
Marc took a deep breath. Well now was as good as any. Walking up to the bar he leaned on it. "Scotch on the rocks. If not I'll take the piss beer you served the last guy." He offered a smile from one woman to the next. Well time to get this party started.
This was exactly how rumors got started. Somebody said "ninjas," and then all of a sudden, everyone's peering over their shoulders and looking at the Asian table funny.
They weren't even Japanese.
"I mean, not originally, but according to Leanne here, somebody said ninjas, yeah," the skeleton Elektra had just addressed, otherwise known as Claire, replied. By the cock of her brow and the way she appraised Elektra, Claire was more interested in her than any katakana-wielding weeaboos prancing outside. "You're new," came that confirmation a second later. "Sorry, I usually try to have everyone's face down before they get vetted, but sometimes I have to delegate. I'm Claire. Please don't call me Mama or any variation of such, it creeps me out and Afu gets to punch anyone who does it. What's your name?"
That was quite the smooth introduction for Claire, whose hand was now extended to Elektra for a shake. The bartender could never bury the malaise in her voice entirely, nor the look in her eyes that said she'd rather be anywhere but where she was at any given time.
Before they could get much further than introductions, though, something caught Claire's attention. Her gaze snapped to the front entrance, through which strode a man clad entirely in white, like he was a Southern gentleman plucked from the type of wedding where women wore fascinators. First, she grimaced, because the suit looked horrible to her despite how well it had been tailored, but then she noticed some rather familiar cheekbones and...
"What in the Jesus Christ, who the fuck let him in here?!" she hissed to herself, then glanced to Elektra and quipped, "Sorry, uh, put your order in with the big Samoan guy for now, I gotta take care of something."
'Something' was, as far as Claire knew, a literal serial killer walking into her club without a care in the world. Like he belonged there, like she wouldn't recognize him after... well, there had been a lot of blood, and she'd almost gotten taken in for questioning. That was enough to warrant a ban from Inanimatum, at an absolute minimum.
She had just finished waving to Afu to let him know she was leaving him for a few minutes when she realized the source of trouble itself had actually had the balls to not only approach her bar, but placed an order, too.
"Scotch on the rocks. If not I'll take the piss beer you served the last guy."
Her neck tense. Claire glanced from the black-haired woman who'd asked after the ninjas back to the man in the white suit, then stared the latter down. A few nearby customers had fallen silent, listening, watching.
"Yeah, cool, nice order, but no! No, dude. You're telling me what you did to get in, and then you're fucking right off and never coming back. Don't make me raise my voice in here."
Ninja’s might not be something ordinary people saw on a regular basis (if they were they were some really bad ninjas), and something most thought left behind in the 90’s with turtles and teenagers but for Elektra and some of those like her, they knew they were real. That someone had seen them meant there were probably a lot and that they were too busy getting into something to worry about bystanders. Elektra turned on the stool to face this Leanne woman, ready to start interrogating her with a few questions when the bartender eyed her like she was some strange new animal all of a sudden.
Tilting her head, her brow cocking in much the same manner as the other woman’s as she eyed the woman back. ”Am I? These places all seem familiar after a while.” Her words trailed along quietly, running into what seemed to be a common introduction to the place. ”I don’t think you’ll have to worry about me calling you Mama..” That was almost laughable. Almost.
Her name was a harder question to answer and all came down to how she wanted to present herself here. One alias held no real contacts in the under belly of society while the other might be well known if many circles. Making a decision, it was better to be infamous then obscure for some plans, she choose her real name. ”Elektra.” An assassin whispered about in Europe shook the woman’s hand.
When someone’s attention was so swiftly taken away, a smart person always wondered why. Turning in her seat she glanced along the line of sight which happened to be the door and laid her eyes on the man in white. Her thoughts echoed those of the bartender, recognizing that face from a frozen elevator ride. Great. She wasn’t looking for his kind of trouble tonight and having met him before she was betting there as no avoiding it.
She already had a drink and wasn’t looking for a refill just yet. She glanced at the big guy and shook her head before turning to watch the seen that was about to unfold. She was rooting for the man getting kicked out of course. She didn’t smile back, she gave him an impassive look, utterly without emotion or care before turning away and lifting her drink to take a sip.
Did both women knew Jake? What was the name he'd given? Was it Steven. The bartender knew Jake for sure, given the cab ride. One that ended in blood and a totalled taxi cab. But no one died, for the record. The all lived, three men who would drink through a straw, and never be able to play the piano again but they all lived. Claire especially. She even got away without a scar. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Louise on the other hand was her doing. She had met in Manhatten, probably gave Steven's name. Though as the fighting came out did he give his real name? Marc? Jake? This could be interesting.
Claire had barely gotten to shake Elektra's hand -- Trippy name, chica -- before everything started going tits up.
The disparity between tonight's security and the expectations she held for Inanimatum had grown more dire with each passing second. The club wasn't a hole in the wall, and Claire had made sure to run the entirety of its security team through the appropriate checks before hiring them. Clearly, something had gone wrong tonight, and once she got to the bottom of it, whoever was at the end was going to hang.
Metaphorically speaking. Claire just planned on firing whoever was involved. She wasn't a maniac, unlike the cabbie who was, for some reason, still at her bar, although to his credit, he'd given her decent information -- if it was true.
"Yeah, let me just pack up my life and change everything because some psycho in a cab gored a guy. You know, people can't just magically pick everything up and change who they are on a dime. Maybe you'd be a better vigilante if you realized that. Not that that's difficult, 'cause from what I've seen, pretty much anything's an improvement for you."
Claire was an emotive person, and it didn't take long for the patrons nearby to figure out that someone was bothering her. The terse way she held her shoulders, the snap of her gaze from Elektra to Marc, even the way she'd folded her arms beneath her breasts instead of on top of them -- hunching her shoulders -- spoke volumes to anyone who paid attention. By the time she'd finished snapping at Marc, Afu had waded over to them and hovered in wait a few feet behind his boss, and the other customers at the bar had fallen quiet. Two had even left.
"Read my lips: I am not serving you. Get the fuck out. This is my last warning," Claire said, as coolly as she could manage. She eyed Elektra warily, wondering if she had some connection to the problem child sitting next to her. "What about you? There a story I need to know about?"
Elektra knew the man as Steven, it was the name he’d used to introduce himself by early in the fateful elevator ride. The other personalities hadn’t bothered to offer names. It probably would have been a very good clue as to the state of the man if they had. As it was, she didn’t recognize him as someone with multiple people in his head but only as some asshole that couldn’t keep his cool when stuck in a small box. And considering her own hang ups that was saying something.
She was paying attention, she just wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of showing it. One word, or title, did have her listening a little harder though. The Butcher. The regular neighborhood meat supplier, she thought not. Not when paired with all those other names he was throwing out. Which, were quite a lot of names to be honest. It almost felt like he had something to prove. Well, someone else to ask Maya about, she sure wasn’t going to ask this man about her sister after all.
”I’m not here to meet you. In fact I’m on the bartenders side of this. Move along.” Maybe she had deleted that footage. Maybe she had kept it. Always nice to have something that could be evidence. She sipped her drink, not engaging beyond those words. She was ready though, if things got out of hand but the place had their own security people and she wasn’t about to do their job for them and blow her own welcome.
She glanced up at Claire though and shrugged, ”He attacked me in an elevator. I defended myself.” Short and sweet story from her point of view. He might argue it but it was what she felt had happened. Leaning back on her stool she glanced around the room, wondering if she should just retreat back to her table and watch what was about to go down from their. The place was ripe with tension and though being in the center of it was usually something she thought was great fun, she had another purpose for being here tonight.
"Bars close all the time. Start new, somewhere with out this sort of business. I wasn't really here for you any way. Though I'll still take that drink." He leaned on the bar, clearly no intent on leaving. "We both know you throwing me out isn't going to end well. That cops aren't an option. Not with the five, no six infractions I saw coming in. Lots of clientele would probs to frown on that." Marc turned to lean back on the bar. "He missed parole for two weeks now. He has three kinds of highly illegal narcotics in his system. She has a warrant on her head for arson and grand theft auto. Not really people you want to piss of either."
Marc turned back to the bartender, looking at her, offering a smirk to the big Samoan guy and the elevator girl. "That's not why I'm here though, I'm looking for the Butcher. Bed-Stuy. Need to contact them, figured someone may know where they are or how to reach them. That and I was hankering for a scotch." He leaned on the bar again, facing the elevator partner.
"Oh bullshit. You hit me first with a dirty blow then stabbed me. I was the one clearly defending myself. Clearly if we are to take skill in t account, I needed the defending." He reached over sticking a gloved finger in her drink, swirling it around. "Not that I'm complaning. Was a good fight. Hasn't had one like that in a good time. Last time I did I fought some creepy guy in a hood and cloak. Nice fashion style but terrible colour."
He drummed his finger on the bartop. "So do you want to serve me that drink before or after I break the big guys hands that's walking this way. Terrible service. I can only imagine your Yelp rating." He smiled again, as one of the bouncer's from earlier was behind him. A quick tap on the shoulder and Marc glanced backward.
"You need to leave. Let's go. Tossing your ass ou...." the security was cut off, his voice going to a whimper as Marc spun around his hands. With a quic twist he managed to break all the fingers on the left hand, bent and jagged facing every which way. He then rolled back, slamming the man's face against the bar top. A few people turned to look as Marc fixed his suit,
"Shame, he wasn't even the one who let me in." Marc went to lean on the bar again when the lights to the building went out. The sound of a breaker being flipped and the smashing of glass. When the lights came back on several ninjas were standing around the bar in a semi circle. The other bouncer laid dead next to his companion Marc had knocked out moments before.
When the lights went out Marc took the opportunity to pull out his mask, slipping it on. Mr. Knight looked around at the ninjas. "Uh they aren't with me." The voice now coming from the figure vaguely British.
One of the ninjas drew a blade, "The Hand comes for the one named Moon Knight." Mr. Knight stepped back against the bar. Okay well that wasn't helping him convince anybody now was it?
Nonplussed didn't begin to describe the look on Claire's face when Elektra told her how she'd met the cabbie-gone-wild.
"Yeah, he looks like the type," she grumbled. "You can stay."
It would have been great to be able to say she had never before dealt with an asshole as proficient as Marc, but the sad truth was that for all his bravado -- insulting the owner of the club, bragging about getting through security (which was tight -- Ms. St. Claire spent the majority of the budget on it, in fact), brushing off the very dangerous-looking woman next to him -- he was just another drop in the puddle. A wet, little squirt that barely made a splash.
Although he did, to his credit, catch the attention of basically everyone in the club, save for an old man in the VIP lounge who was busy playing Candy Crush.
"I don't think you realize where you are--ALRIGHT, WHO SHUT OFF THE LIGHTS?"
Claire had had enough of this. She'd reached her limit even before the lights went out and sound broke out all around them: shouts of alarm, the clatter of someone falling over, fifty guns cocking at once, a glass hitting the floor. When the lights came back, the ninjas from earlier had finally made their appearance, stylishly late to make a point, and... only two tables seemed surprised. There were actually a few groans of dismay, and one woman complained a little too loudly, "I thought ninjas were supposed to wear black?"
The club's owner, steeling her jaw behind the bar, took them more seriously. She grimaced just a bit at the sight of them -- the Hand always dressed in bright red, gotta make an entrance -- then threw up her hands in defeat.
"... Moon Knight, seriously? He's alone, take him," she announced, loud enough that everyone could hear her. "If anyone disagrees, speak up now so we can haul your ass out with him. This isn't a wedding chapel."
Right as she finished the last syllable in "wedding," a knife whipped through the air and thudded into the bartop in front of Elektra.
This was an accident. The man who'd thrown the knife had meant to hit Marc right in the meat of his palm, but he'd missed, although it was still an impressive shot. Unfortunately, it also had the effect of drawing the eyes of all three members of the Hand present at the club to Elektra, who just so happened to have a relationship with their organization.
The one closest to the bar reached for his katana, and all hell broke loose.
All of the men and women at the bar -- eight people in total -- lunged for Marc, while two small groups in the background made a direct line toward a third in a prison yard-style attack. Strangely, no one got in the way of the Hand; not yet, anyway. The trio leapt at Elektra together and in unison, like a pack of dogs eager for the hunt.
It was funny that the man thought the bartender in jeopardy of pissing off the people in here when he blatantly turned around and pointed out their crimes and sins. If anything they would all turn on him just for that. The bartender likely wouldn’t need her bouncers if this kept up, the other patrons would take care of him for her. Good riddance she thought and slid her finished drink away from her.
”What, did the Butcher get to one of your marks before you?” She asked sweetly but the words were still venom underneath. ”Maybe you’re just not fast enough. I can attest to that.” she smirked and nodded to the somoan and her glass, might as well get a refill before she went back to her table.
She rolled her eyes at his objection, ”You get angry and rush a woman from behind and expect her to be welcoming? Men these days, so uncouth and brutish.” she sighed as he stuck a finger into the just refilled glass, sharing a look with Claire about the impossibility that was this man.
Pushing the glass away again as the lights went out, she gave up on the drink, instead her hand slipping under her jacket to take hold of her sai. She didn’t draw it, only glanced around as the lights came back on, getting a very hard look to her face. ”Well, I suppose this will do then…” she started, assuming they were here to finally make a move on her, which was fine, she had questions to ask them, but when they instead seemed to focus on the other guy she looked startled, then began to laugh.
”Oh! Its you they want!” she seemed to find this highly amusing.
Unfortunately, whether between her own laughter and the knife thrown near her, the ninja’s did seem to notice her and their interest perked even more. “The Black Sky…!” One blurted out and the rest started mumbling in Japanese. “Tonight will indeed be a lucky night with two such prizes!” Elektra shook her head over this development. ”You would have done better to just stick with him.”
Well less time for chit chat now. The bar erupted into chaos of a spectacular sort. Elektra pulled her sais out and made her hop down from the bar stool into something deadlier as the three ninjas came at her. She kicked one in the chin, sending him flying back and caught the katana of another with her tines of her sai while slashing the third across the chest. ”This is pathetic, is this really the best you can do?” She ripped down on the sword, forcing the ninja to let it go or be pulled off balance.
Mr. Knight now wearing the white mask watched the Ninjas where they stood twirling their impressive swords and knives on chains. Okay a little intimidating. As one patron spoke out about ninjas wearing black they were only met by the throwing star buried in the forehead of the one who spoke. Okay so more intimidating. Ninjas were nothing new, who ever these were they were nothing new either.
As the knife sailed through the air and landed inches away from his hand Mr. Knight raised a brow under the mask. "Hey now, there's ninjas, maybe fight them. I'm the innocent man here, just wanting a drink." it was met by eight or so patron rushing towards him. Rolling back Mr. Knight kicked up the nearest barstool beside him. Catching it in his hands he swung it towards the face of the first person who stepped his way. The stool,crashed, sending the man sprawling to the floor. "Hit went a little better then expected."
A blast went off beside Mr. Knight,frying through one of the tables. He turned to see one of the bar patrons in the back, canon arm raised up, his hand twisted into a glowing purple energy firing canon. Okay that was pretty cool, canon arms. Mr. Knight, brought a crescent dart down, stabbing the nearest fighter in the legs. He then ran up the woman as she howled in pain. Leaping from her back he jumped over the crowd that had formed to kick him out. He had to admit it, the customers seemed loyal at least.
Grabbing the beer glass from the table he bucked it towards the person taking a swing. The glass shatters across the man's face, cutting it open and digging in to the eyes. He then brought his knee to the abdomen and tossed the man to the ground. The canon arms fired again, narrowly missing Mr. Knight and obliterating the leg of one of the other attackers on accident.
He looked to where the three ninjas had taken attack agaisnt Elektra. "Hey I thought you bastard were for me." Pushing his attackers off he watched as two ninjas sailed his way, landing in front of him. He had a split second to being two more crescent darts up, blocking an incoming blade. Pushing the ninja back he stumbled only to be grabbed by a hulking bear of a man with veins glowing a bright yellow. The behemoth hoisted him into the air above his head and the crowd of attackers.
"There's five mill to whoever takes down those ninjas and bring me the girl with the sais." Mr. Knight was only met with being tossed into a table. Normally that would have taken a man out, hit from someone of that strength, but he had something a little extra going through him. "That scotch better be ready after this," He mumbled to himself, picking himself up to fight again. "Okay tiny, me and you. Let's go."
Claire wished she could have said she expected this -- a full-on bar brawl with an assassin, a mentally ill cabbie and half of the fucking Hand -- but the hard truth was that in her line of work, the surprises never stopped coming.
... But Marc just kept pushing his luck. Claire was astounded in the face of his bravado; he'd behaved like an alien so far, with zero understanding of what made the kind of people in her bar tick. It was a system based partly on trust, and right now, Marc had zero purchasing power, which was why he wound up ducking a table and a few choice racial slurs when he started offering millions to the patrons of the bar.
In short, they weren't having any of it, and now that he'd soundly pissed them off, many of the locals -- but none of the Hand (we'll get to them in a minute) -- were now hellbent on getting him out of the club. Bottles containing liquor of all varities, including what smelled like piss, which Claire would be very angry about later, were slung in his direction, although no one had fired a shot... yet.
There was a reason for that. A "NO SHOOTING INDOORS" sign hung above the front entrance, for one, and for another, none of the patrons were stupid enough to start firing in a closed environment where ricochet was a very real concern.
... except for that guy who had a canon on his arm, whom Claire had only allowed into the club for the first time last week after a well-vetted member spoke for him.
As for the Hand, the entire gang that had busted in was solely focused on Elektra. This bewildered Claire, who had ducked down behind the bar and was currently huddling in safety with Apu at her side until the violence reached its inevitable end.
"Why are they going for her?" Claire shouted to the Samoan above the roar and crashing in the club.
"Fisheye said she's some hot ticket!" Apu yelled back, then lowered his voice because as a man who had a deep baritone, half the bar could hear him when he shouted. "This Moon Knight guy, I've heard of him -- street says they don't call him that because of the lunar cycle or any -- ohhhhh Christmas, what's Canoneer doing? -- anything, just... he's crazy!"
"Asylum crazy, so yes!"
With that, Apu wrapped his arms around Claire to protect her just in time for splinters of wood to go showering everywhere. The Canoneer had taken his one and only shot.
Once the debris had stopped falling, Claire smacked Apu on the arms, freed herself, and scrambled up on top of the bar, arms held out wide as she drew as deep a breath as she could and screamed,
It worked. Every single patron* in the bar stopped in their tracks, one holding Moon Knight by the collar of his shirt (how did that happen?), Elektra's sais dripping blood onto the floor.
Then, the newest recruit in the Hand group, terrified and having lost his blade in the fray, pulled free his pistol and fired a single shot... which, as foreshadowed earlier, ricocheted off a plate on the wall and whipped straight toward Elektra's sai, held high in the air.
* Well, aside from our intrepid player character interlopers, that is.
The ninja really didn’t want to let go of his sword or he simply underestimated her a great deal. Either option left him as one of the many less then intelligent soldiers of the organization which didn’t surprise her. The job had to have a terrible survival rate in this city. Something like that would of course mean a reduction in quality as they rushed to replace them. Now it seemed like they weren’t even fully informing their cannon fodder before sending them out.
He tried his strength against her but there was no contest there, he wasn’t like her, he hadn’t been resurrected and improved. With her sai holding the blade of his sword she shoved it down towards the floor and then flipped up, kicking him with each foot across the face. After that he joined his weapon on the floor and wasn’t going to be more then a trip hazard. Sadly though his friend had gotten back up and didn’t look to be any smarter as they rushed her again.
She wasn’t fighting to kill, at least not yet. She did want one or two alive so she could ask them some questions after all. She was actually just toying with them, knocking them out as the opportunity came along, it was almost boring really. Nothing as interesting as an arm canon or glowing yellow veins among this horde of ninja’s. She’d say the Hand needed to up their game a little but well, she knew they could and had. Just not here, tonight.
Things got a little hairier when one of the other patrons was thrown in their direction. The body smacking into a couple ninja and causing a them to pile up, falling into her as well. The worse dog pile ever. She felt a blade slice across her thigh before she managed to shove them off, sending ninja flying and knocking into everyone else. She twirled her sai and started forward, a more serious look on her face now when the woman jumped up on the bar and screamed at them all.
She didn’t give Claire even a glance, her eyes were solely focused on the people with weapons all around the bar, knowing any moment the frozen looks of surprise would disappear and thing would get out of hand again. And just like that, someone lost it. That is was one of the Hand with a gun would have her shaking her head in consternation later. She started to move, she had no intention of getting shot tonight.
"Right no takers. 10 mill? 15?" Yeah okay so the attackers couldn't be bought. Though Mr. Knight could see a few thinking it. They were criminals after all. A good payday was a good payday. Easy as that. Still none seemed to act upon his request. A shame, he was hoping a few would have gotten out with out broken bones and broken spirits. Now he'd have to crush them. At least he was going to have a blast doing it.
A few bottles were launched at him. The first one hit his chest but an arm quickly raised to block the next bottle being thrown. As it shatters on his forearm he looked to the man who threw it. Another's bottle sailed his way and Mr. Knight caught it out of the air. As quickly as he did he smashed it against the nearest persons head, right across the eyes. A swift kick and the person her hit stumbled back another kick and the man who had just been blinded sailed into the air and breaking through a table. "Hope you don't mind if I wreck the place," Mr. Knight said grinning under the mask. Because he was going to.
Marc watched two attackers rush him. The first a barely set man whose arms split in to six tiny arms, another a woman with what he couldn't only assume was razor sharp teeth and a lions tail. The six arm guys was on him, wrapping all his limbs around the flailing vigilante. Mr. Knight could feel them begin to squeeze, tightening around his form. As he did Mr. Knight pulled his body tight and grabbed a crescent dart. Jabbing them down he made sure to stab the man as hard as he could in the thought, repeatedly until he let go. He then grabbed on the arm twisting it until he heard the bone snap. Reaching for another's he proceeded to break as many arms as he could.
The lioness was on him, punching on his back. The teeth bit in to his shoulder and Mr. Knight flailed around trying to get her off. He didn't react to the pain. Instead he reached up his hands grabbing the woman by the back of the neck, fighting through her tail and teeth snapping at him. Flipping the lion woman over he made sure she hit the ground hard, her back landing in a chair in an awkward angle. She probably would never walk again, that wasn't really his problem.
Removing his jacket Mr. Knight began to roll up his sleeves. It was as he did that one of the club patrons grabbed him. A smaller man, with some sort of red robot arm and a claw hand. The claw spun twisting around his tie and pulling Mr. Knight off the ground. He went to raised his fists when the bartender stood on the bar and yelled to stop. The commotion of the bar fight and the bottles being throw stopped. It was silent as all eyes were on her. Well all except one that was.
Mr. Knight slammed his fist in to the claw man's face. Hearing the nose break and feeling blood soak his glove he shook his hand out. The man fell to the floor in a thug, his tooth stuck neatly in the vigilantes knuckle. Mr. Knight proceeds to pick it out as he walked closer to the bar. Then a shot went off.
Ricocheting off the plate and toward the woman Mr. Knight rolled for toward launching his crescent dart toward the shooter. As it dug in the man spun firing a shot that went clean through the vigilantes leg. Again Mr. Knight stood unfazed as he looked to the bartender. "You want to call off your club yet. Or should we go another round love?"
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