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Post by WIL CROFT on May 21, 2011 21:50:24 GMT -5
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Wil leaned against the battered wooden bar top of a dive bar in Bethlehem Pennsylvania, a cigarette clamped in one corner of his mouth and a battered iPhone to his ear. "Yeah, well, you know what? I actually don't give a shit how long you been talking to her on Facebook, you're not goin' to the concert."
He wasn't making much of an effort not to be overheard, this was a rough place but the vamp he'd been tracking wasn't due in for half an hour or more. "No," he said calmly in answer to the rapid chatter of angry tween speech in his ear, "it aint that I don't think you can look after yourself at a concert. Though they don't exactly let you take guns into those things. It's that...look, I think the Jonas Brothers are demons, okay? Have you seen the youngest one's nose? It's not natural."
There was a vicious spate of shrill denials in his ear, and Wil listened to it all patiently enough but there was a grin tugging at one side of his mouth as he finally asked, "Can you prove conclusively that he isn't a demon? You made me watch that Les Miserables concert thing and when he sang that song about empty chairs and how everybody was gone I thought it was because they got sucked up his nostrils. It aint right, normal people don't have nose holes that look like they lead straight into the void of deep space."
He had to clamp his mouth shut so that he wouldn't laugh aloud at the shriek of outrage in his ear, but he got it under control and took a good drag of his cigarette so that he wouldn't ruin everything by snickering at her rage. "Fine," he said finally. "We can talk about it when I get home, but you better be prepared to present some compelling evidence that they didn't sell their souls at a crossroads in exchange for a Disney Channel contract."
Wil hung up before Tish could build up a good head of steam and turned back around to face the bar so that he could ash his cigarette. Seeing that there was someone next to him who'd clearly overheard at least his side of the conversation, Wil shrugged and grinned a bit. "I don't understand what teen girls see in that shit. But then I don't suppose I'm meant to."
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Post by raidenkile on May 22, 2011 2:21:30 GMT -5
The bar was relatively full but everyone kept to themselves. That was usually the best thing about these places-people minded their own business and didn't speak out of turn. Occassionally a bar fight might occur from two tense and irritated guys but that wasn't an overly common occurance.
Raiden ordered himself a beer, having to hide down the snicker at the conversation of a man all the way on the other end of the bar. The guy had a teenage girl or something. It was times like these that Raiden was glad he was sterile and couldn't produce young. It might have been worth it considering he always did have a soft spot for children but the hassle of rearing a kid to be like you, no thanks.
He hesitated, feeling like he was being watched and glanced back at a couple tables at the far end of the place. There was a group of hunters-he could tell by the way they held themselves up and acted- staring him down. Raiden's insides began to churn uncomfortably. Most hunters, even well trained ones, managed to look past what he was since he was partially human and they couldn't discern his supernatural side. And when he was in a tight spot his glamour could take care of any doubts in their minds. But some hunters...they could just tell by looking at someone that they weren't natural.
One of the men in the group must be one of those kind. That didn't comfort Raiden too much as he tried to settle back to his drink and forget about them for the time being. If they wanted a bar-fight...he'd give them a bar-fight but he wasn't looking for trouble if he could help it.
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Post by WIL CROFT on May 22, 2011 12:36:10 GMT -5
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Wil chatted easily for a few minutes with the guy who'd been eavesdropping on his conversation with Tish, an older suburban type who seemed out of place in this bar, especially given that there was a rising tension in the air that Wil hadn't yet identified. He used the conversation as a cover to scope out the bar, comparing notes and even pictures of their kids (though the photo Wil showed the guy was not, in fact, of Tish but of some other girl about her age that he'd found on the internet. Paranoia is a powerful thing) while Wil tried to gauge what it was about this situation that seemed to be ratcheting up the stress levels in the room.
There. The table all the way in the back, a group of guys who looked too rough to be even in a place like this. One of them was paying too much attention to a tall, skinny guy at the end of the bar, and was starting to draw his friends' focus as well.
At the distance he was at, Wil's mind didn't leap to 'hunters', not yet. His first thought was in fact 'gay bashing'. The guy at the bar that was attracting all the attention was more pretty than handsome and a bit femme, Wil knew through bitter experience that that was plenty to bring a world of hurt in a bar like this.
Wil extracted himself from the guy who was bragging up his kid, got himself another whiskey and water, and moved casually down to the end of the bar next to the prettyboy who was drawing so much interest from the group of roughnecks at the round table.
"Hey." He gave the upward jerk of the chin that serves as a casual greeting among certain classes of men, took a swallow of his drink. "What're you up to tonight?" He didn't necessarily expect that the addition of another person to the situation would head off the guys at the table, but at least if it all went to hell he could help out.
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Post by raidenkile on May 22, 2011 13:57:02 GMT -5
The tension that was thick in the air was begining to make Raiden feel a bit ill. He could feel down to his bones that a bar-fight was inevitable now, it just was a matter of time. He sighed, taking another swig of his beer and trying to enjoy the moment before the fireworks started.
Suddenly a man sat by him and gave him a nod of acknowledgement. Raiden momentarily tensed, not used to dealing with people regularly since most somehow could sense he was dangerous and left him be. After brief moment of examining the situation he could tell just by the way he moved, and his insticts as a faerie that this man wasn't human.
He forced himself to relax, nodding back. "Just enjoying a quiet night on the town." Raiden murmured lightly, taking another swig of his beer before discreetly glancing back at the group of men who were still staring at him. They seemed to have backed down a bit since he was now in the company of another but their glares weren't any less hostile. "How about yourself?" Raiden looked the stranger over curiously. He was on the lean, tall side just like Raiden himself. His looks were fairly androgynous and Raiden wondered who and what he was.
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Post by WIL CROFT on May 22, 2011 15:33:10 GMT -5
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It wasn't until the first thing the guy said that Wil figured out he wasn't human. There was an extra timbre in his voice, easy to miss but Wil's more-than-human hearing picked it up. And once he caught that he could smell it; oak and moss and sunwarmed stone, the scents of nature that didn't much exist in this world any more. He couldn't put a finger on what this guy was, but he knew he wasn't entirely human, and that made him both wary and a little more determined to keep off the guys at the other table if they decided to become a problem.
"Not a big night life in Bethlehem," Wil said with a little laugh, even as he glanced back over at the group of guys. Now he could see it on them, it was on the edges of the tattoos that showed beneath their shirt cuffs and the kinds of crosses they wore, he could see that one of the men had a warding symbol carved into the heel of his boot. Well, shit.
Instead of going on with the next round of small talk, Wil lifted his glass to his lips and used the cover of the drink to ask, "They hunting you, or just bad luck all around?"
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Post by raidenkile on May 22, 2011 15:50:43 GMT -5
Raiden knew the instant that the other man could tell he wasn't human. His eyes flashed with a sort of curiosity. He eased a bit realizing this man wasn't going to hunt him as well. Raiden figured he wouldn't anyway, considering he wasn't human himself but one could never be too careful.
"Hunting me, I suppose. At least I'm fairly certain they are." Raiden replied softly, ordering a new drink. He shifted slightly. "Are you here to help me or keep an eye on me?" He smirked slightly. "Probably both, huh?" Raiden was far more than used to people distrusting him. His faerie blood always kept people on edge even if they were just normal and human. The air was crackling with tension and Raiden could still feel the harsh, unyielding scowls from the hunters on his back.
He pulled out a coin, fidgeting with it in his fingers in order to calm his nerves down. It was the only thing that could keep him from fight or flight until the proper moment.
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Post by WIL CROFT on May 22, 2011 17:15:28 GMT -5
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A short, harsh laugh and now he really take a swallow of the whiskey, letting the pleasant burn roughen his voice as he admitted, "Honestly? Until two seconds ago I came over here because I figured they were a bunch of up-country yokes looking to beat down the faggy guy." A quick, sly grin over at his new acquaintance and Wil said, "You want to try and head out I'll cover the retreat. They may decide it aint worth it, who knows?"
He didn't think so, though. Wil knew hunters, Wil was a hunter, and they didn't tend to let go of things easily. Or, you know, ever. His basic assumption was that having gotten the scent of this guy (what was he? It was tugging at the edges of his memory, but Wil couldn't put a finger on it) they weren't going to let it go. Ever. Still, miracles could happen.
And yet even as he made the offer Wil was shoving his hands into the pockets of the faded-out denim jacket he was wearing, checking what he had on him that wasn't immediately lethal to humans. Not a whole lot. He supposed he could just start punching people, but that was pretty iffy. Still, he didn't want to kill them. They were just doing their jobs, and they were probably pretty good hunters if they could spot this kid out of nowhere. Still, Wil had a thing about not killing creatures just for being creatures. For, you know, obvious reasons.
And so he offered, "Name's Wil. We doing this or what?"
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Post by raidenkile on May 22, 2011 17:55:03 GMT -5
Raiden regarded Wil curiously, eyebrow raised at his first words. "Faggy? Oh...well I guess I never really thought of it either way." He had never really been attracted to most people though he found some guys and girls nice to look at from time to time. This man, for example, had a strong, intriguing appearance.
"I don't run away from a fight. I don't like having to take down other hunters but it has to be done." His whole body grew tense again, stretched and ready to fight with all he had in him.
He was rather taken aback by the help especially such easily relinquished help. "Raiden," He replied quickly, mentally preparing himself. "I'm in." Raiden wouldn't let himself get beaten so easily either by these hunters or being showed up by Wil. The help was nice but Raiden also had his pride to maintain.
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Post by WIL CROFT on May 22, 2011 18:40:11 GMT -5
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Another grin, this one distinctly more feral. "All right, then. Let's do this thing. You head out, if they follow I'll be right behind. If they don't, I'll be out in five, just in case." He shot back the last of his whiskey and snapped the glass down onto the bar top, signaled the bartender for another, this time neat. If he was going to be beating people up for being good at their job, he wanted one more shot first.
"When this is done," he warned Raiden, "you owe me a drink." A slight turn of his head let him see the hunters in the mirror behind the bar, it presented a nice casual posture as he hit his cigarette, like whatever idle conversation had been going on between them was over and Wil was back to focusing on his shot and his smoke.
He held the posture, waiting for Raiden to go do his thing and reflecting that he was going to feel like a real asshole if it turned out that the guys were just checking out Raiden's ass or something. Wouldn't be the first time he'd made a fool of himself. Hopefully wouldn't be the last.
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Post by raidenkile on May 22, 2011 19:10:57 GMT -5
Raiden couldn't help but let out a tiny smile at that, "Noted." He wasn't used to company but buying Wil a drink after this was all over was the least he could do after causing such a ruckus.
He waited a moment, paid his bill and then put his hands in his jacket pocket and strolled out of the bar. It was almost instantaneous he could hear their boots as they went to follow him out and knew he was in trouble. For a moment Raiden forgot he was going to get back-up and panicked, closing his eyes tightly for a moment as he continued out back.
In order to keep from getting a whole lot of unwanted attentions by the locals, Raiden slipped into an alleyway a block away and turned around nervously to come face to face with the hunters. "We know what you are, faerie boy." One of them called out roughly as the others laughed. Raiden let his eyes quickly take in their surroundings just in case things turned into an all-out brawl.
"I don't want any trouble. I'm a hunter too." His eyes narrowed and he had to bite back the urge to growl when they all laughed mockingly. "I've saved people like you before." There... they held a cold iron sword and Raiden flinched away from it automatically, backing up so much that he suddenly felt the cold, wet stone wall on his fingertips.
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Post by WIL CROFT on May 22, 2011 19:30:10 GMT -5
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"Now, boys." Wil sauntered up from the mouth of the alley. He'd lost the jeans jacket and the scarf he'd been wearing he'd ripped in half and wrapped around his fists. It was less a weapon and more a mnemonic device, a reminder not to hit too hard. They were still human, and he still really didn't want to kill anybody. "Is this friendly? Four against one, in an alley? What ever happened to professional courtesy?"
He took four or five steps into the alley and stopped. Close enough to bottle the hunters in between him and Raiden, far enough out not to be an immediate threat. "This guy killed anybody here in town? Caused any problems? Desecrated any churches? Hurt anybody or anything? Or are you just figuring to decapitate with a cold iron blade first and ask questions later?" The sword was the last clue he'd needed, he was a little pissed at himself for it taking so long. Maybe it was the bar that had distracted him? No, probably not. It was because he concentrated so much on demons and spirits, Wil actively avoided hunting other creatures unless they were on some kind of rampage.
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Post by raidenkile on May 22, 2011 19:42:05 GMT -5
The hunters sneered, one of them coming so close to Raiden that he almost stopped breathing seeing the cold iron blade so close. His hands formed into fists, trying to remain in control. This could get resolved or it could end very badly if he was provoked enough to get violent even despite the pain of the iron.
"We can't trust it. A couple weeks ago another one of these freaks came by and some of our families got killed. It's better to kill it and be done with it." The leader grunted, signalling for the hunter close to Raiden to make the kill.
Raiden dodged out of the way seeing the action coming long in advance and shifted behind him, quickly and efficiently knocking him out after dancing around the guy for a bit. He would have a headache in the morning but would be otherwise unharmed. Unfortunately he got sliced with the blade in the process...it wasn't serious or deadly, just a long deep cut, but it hurt like a bitch. "Fuck!" He mumbled out, trying to cover his arm. Another tried slicing him worse, with an iron dagger instead and Raiden found himself inbetween a bunch of the hunters.
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Post by WIL CROFT on May 22, 2011 20:24:32 GMT -5
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Okay, so they weren't going to play nice here. So be it. Wil darted forward, faster than the human eye could conveniently track, and punched the one who'd been stupid enough to turn his back in the kidneys. He probably didn't rupture anything, hard to tell for sure, but it sent the guy to his knees and made it easy to kick him head-first into a dumpster.
Interesting fact, knocking somebody unconscious long enough to keep them out for longer than a few minutes will probably kill them, or if it doesn't it'll almost certainly give them a traumatic brain injury bad enough to cause paralysis, mental degradation, or both. A lot of people don't know that, it's too ingrained in action movies and TV shows that the hero can get smashed upside the head, pass out for an hour, and wake up in the villain's lair with an attractively manly trickle of blood moving down their stubbled jaw but otherwise perfectly fine, alert enough to trade quips with their captor and then escape their bonds with a wisecracking flair and fight their way free. But basically if you're knocked out for longer than a few seconds, chances are high that you'll never be completely right again.
The best way Wil had ever found to disable a human without killing or crippling them was the solar plexus. A sharp poke, punch, or kick to the point where all those nerves come together will put a human down gasping for at least a hundred and twenty seconds, usually longer, and the thick slab of muscle that is the diaphragm protects the organs to an extent, helpful if he got a little overenthusiastic with the punches in the heat of battle.
So that's what he went for with the second hunter, yanking him around by the shoulder and taking the slash of an iron knife across the abdomen in exchange for the chance to jab clumped fingertips into the man's belly and send him down choking and rasping for breath, definitely out of the fight for a while.
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Post by raidenkile on May 22, 2011 20:36:16 GMT -5
Part of his body felt numb, shocked at the poison of the cold iron on his flesh but Raiden kept going. He kept his attacks tame, not wanting to kill anyone but hoping they would be just enough to hurt them enough to stop them from coming after him. Raiden side-stepped out of the way of most of them but finally when all the others were down the leader swiftly pulled out his own dagger and pinned Raiden to the wall.
Raiden struggled to breathe, even just the presence of it so close to his neck was killing him. It was like an allergy attack that could possibly lead to a heart attack. He clenched and unclenched his fists, struggling against his urge to bash the man's skull in. That would only cause more problems for everyone.
"Are you deaf? I'm not going to hurt anyone. Get that thing out of my face." Raiden whispered out, closing his eyes instinctively as if that would somehow lesson the pain from the iron. He had lost track of where Wil was and what he was doing but all he could think about now was surviving.
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Post by WIL CROFT on May 22, 2011 20:54:23 GMT -5
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A desperate lunge and Wil was there, catching the leader's shoulder and yanking him back away from Raiden. The hunter took that cold iron pigsticker of his and shoved it hilt-deep in Wil's ribs, aimed to take out a lung. Which was real impressive and all, but as Wil had no particular vulnerability to cold iron except when he was in the middle of a feeding he just picked the guy up by the front of his shirt and slammed him back into the nearest wall. He probably did some of that cranial damage he was trying so hard to avoid, but in the heat of the moment he wanted the guy off the elf and well clear.
He took two knuckles to the hunter's gut and then pulled the knife out of his own ribcage and dropped it down on top of the guy where he fell. "Next time stop and think before you try to kill people who are just sitting there having a friendly drink. Racist."
One more quick check to make sure that everybody was as out of it as he thought they were and Wil offered Raiden an arm to lean on if he needed it, but they had to get the hell out. Another ninety seconds, maybe two minutes, and the first of the hunters was going to start being able to focus well enough to shoot a gun, and Wil at least preferred that he be long, long gone before that happened.
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