undergrounds | [OPEN] MURDER ON THE DANCEFLOOR

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[OPEN] MURDER ON THE DANCEFLOOR

The Duke of Central London's Samhain festivities are open upon invitation only. Those who are fortunate enough to have received one, either from the Duke himself or from one of his guests, are privy to quite the affair. Raymond has obviously been planning this for some time now, and the bar is fully stocked, the room fully decorated for the festivities. Collected from the fae hunt that their leader had encouraged, fae blood flows freely, available freshly served in punch bowls or straight from the source itself, in the form of kidnapped fae off of the streets. The vampires who partake are drunk with it and high on the euphoria that it offers, a drug unlike any other their kind can partake in.

As promised by Raymond himself, it is a rave the likes that London has never seen before. And it's about to get a lot more memorable still...

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Daryl paced the length of the building outside the main entrance. He'd gotten his chance to take out some of Harris' brood, but not nearly as many as he'd wanted. And the chaos had died down a good hour before. Enough that those without the means to stay out after sunup had made their way out of the building and to their homes.

Jean-Claude hadn't come out yet, though. Even with his victory being clear, Daryl had come to help on his request. A job he was getting paid for in more than just revenge.

If there was a little worry about the other man's physical state, it was being very forcefully squashed under general agitation and a desire to get his ass gone.

Natasha couldn't be there when the deed went down, wasn't welcome for it because of her allegiance to Redbright. Instead she waited outside, ready with loaded guns and stakes for anyone who tried to take the battle outside.

When the dust settles, though, Natasha has more freedom to meet her allies within the nest.

For Evie, she has a smile. "Hey," she says when she has a moment to reach the other assassin. "Hell of a night, huh?"

Natasha performs her job dispassionately and efficiently. Vampires trying to escape or to take the fighting outside are met with bullets—mundane, but hallow point, with enough stopping power to keep most vampires stunned until she can finish them off. She knows what she's doing. Probably killed more vampires than most vampire hunters, even before she left her nest.

When the fighting slacks off, Natasha starts looking for Jean-Claude. She's sure he's busy, but if possible, she'd like to check in with him.

Maybe just to reassure herself she's made the right choice.

Caroline does her best to keep anyone from reaching the doors, but there's just too many of them. Eventually, all she can do is move with the pack and try to get back in front of them. She raises her hands, making sure the bloody stake is visible, in case anyone outside tries to kill her by mistake.

She really hopes JC is a good enough judge of character that they'll make an exception for her.

Cesare is sitting in a booth at the side of the room, his shirt bloodied and a cigarette balancing between his lips. He normally didn't partake in smoking and had decided it was a filthy habit, but tonight is a bit of a special occasion. Leaning back into the cushioning of his seat, his elbows resting on its back, he looks practically post-coital. He's missed this.

He had almost forgotten what it felt like to kill with purpose, drain the blood from a man when he was trying to do the exact same thing to you. There's a thrill in it.

He hasn't touched the fae blood but he's still on a bit of a high when he catches sight of Natasha, gesturing for her to come join him. He reaches for the bottle of scotch that he took from the bar and pours her a glass, sliding it over to her.

"So were tonight's actions of yours for Islington or for Redbright?" he asks. The two of them had ended up on the same side tonight. That had been a pleasant turn of events. And they'd done well. But Cesare isn't entirely sure if they'll be fighting on the same side again.

"Quite the contrary, actually." She echoes his smirk, though there's more amusement in her voice than in his. "I know you can take care of yourself. So long as you have your hands." Hands were really important, okay? For magic and for fighting and generally everything.

He's got this. Jean-Claude wouldn't have let him do it otherwise, and Eames certainly valued his own skin enough that he wouldn't have let this happen, either.

Natasha, oh thank god. Evie practically runs up to her when she hears her voice, wrapping her in a rather undignified hug. Evie's not a big hugger. But for Natasha, at the end of a battle, she could be a huge hugger.

"Natasha- you're alright." She's more relieved than she expected to be to see her dear friend again. She'd figured she'd partake tonight, and though Evie was aware of the other woman's abilities, her more recent diet did put her at a disadvantage.

During the fight, Evie caught sight of a familiar blonde. Hardly allowing herself more than a small smirk of reflection during the attack, she vowed to come back to her later. That time came far sooner than expected, as one of Raymond's goons began to approach the young American. Evie didn't waste a moment- sending a stake through the heart of the man she was fighting, she ran over toward Caroline.

"Caroline!" She yelled, hoping she'd turn and see the man set to attack her and if all went well, the man would turn his attentions to Evie.

She got her wish, as he pulled out what appeared to be a very long bowie knife.

Well. This was going to be fun.

Without a moment's hesitation, she moved in towards the thug, wielding her own kukuri with swift, precise movements.

The hug takes Natasha buy surprise. There's a brief hesitation as she's caught, then she wraps her arms around the other woman as well, returning the hug with a gentle reassurance.

Natasha's all right. They both are.

"You weren't worried, were you?" She huffs, covering the way she's flattered by her concern with humor. "I can take care of myself."

Caroline spun around when she heard her name, just in time to see the large vampire who was getting far too close. Thankfully, he turned towards Evie, which allowed Caroline to quickly get out of dodge. Once she was a safe distance away, she turned back, just in time to see Evie and the vampire getting close to each other, blades drawn.

Her attention was drawn away when another vampire came stumbling her way, his arms flailing. Thankfully, this was another one drunk on fae blood and Caroline moved in swiftly, driving her stake into his heart.

There's a brief hesitation before she joins him. While Natasha isn't surprised that Cesare fell into line with Jean-Claude in the end, it hadn't been a sure thing in her estimation. Not by any means. It's only an instant, though, then she accepts his invitation, taking the seat across from him and drawing the glass closer with one finger on the rim of the glass.

"To the best of my knowledge, Redbright doesn't know I'm here." She tips her head slightly, as though admitting something embarrassing. "I'd say I'm here on my own best judgment."

Thank you for not making this awkward, Nat. She really, really appreciates it.

"This isn't my first coup," she explains. "I suppose I should have guessed it wasn't yours, either." Yes, she was worried.

The vampire's clumsy. He's big, drunk, and he's only got a knife. Evie's light on her feet, sober, and she's been trained. Evie's able to make short work of him, getting in close until she's able to send her hidden stake through his heart.

"Good to see you fighting the good fight!" She calls to Caroline. They can talk after this.

God, she hopes they can.

The first bolt lands in the back of the vampire right in front of Caroline. The wooden tip piercing their heart and stopping their hap-hazard attack before the press of the small crowd spilling out could aid them in harming her further. That was the only warning on his end that someone more had joined the fray. The next attack he took was up close and personal, all teeth and fur as he tackled one of the vampires he recognized from the cage fights and ripped his throat out.

He could clean up the mess and finish the guy off properly later.

"Not exactly a novice, no. Though..." She trails off, glancing over the area around them. "I suppose it's my first insurrection in a nest. So there's that. All things considered, I'd say it went over well."

Natasha doesn't try to pull away, staying close even as she eases out of the hug.

Jean-Claude knows that Raymond is no fool. It's how he has come this far in life already. But he knows too that he must outwit him if he wants to stand any chance of winning this fight tonight. And thus, sacrifices must be made. Sacrifices not entirely all his own.

He raises his hands before him to appease the chanting crowd and let it be known that he will not protest this offering. "What a generous gift, monsieur!" he calls out, not only to Raymond but the audience around them. He lets his fangs extend in answer to the excitement of the crowd. He needs to demonstrate that he has not done anything to this blood. That he will not be offing the Duke with poison. No, Jean-Claude has a far more dramatic end in mind for him. "I will do my best not to let it go to waste!"

He steps closer to where the guard is holding Eames with his throat exposed to him and reaches out to cup the fae man's jaw and turn his head further sideways still. He hopes that Eames understands he has no choice in the matter. This is not about his blood, or his pride. This is about the means to an end, and if this is what it takes than so be it. What's a little blood donated to the cause? And if he does not? Well, he can hear about it later. Provided they both survive this encounter.

With the flash of white teeth, Jean-Claude lowers his head and sinks his fangs into Eames' neck, doing his best to hold onto himself in the moment as the sweet, heady rush of fae blood spills into his mouth. He needs to keep his head in this, and he cannot do so if he allows himself too much. But he is a vampire, and he cannot help the fact that the rush of it across his tongue, the slight struggling against his body and the smell of Eames' fear, of his anger, only serves to excite him further. It is all he can do to tear himself away just on the edge of being drunk from his magic, and he lifts his head to the ceiling and hisses, his true face on display for all to see before him.

"My dear Duke!" Jean-Claude calls out. "I fear that I must stop myself before I drink too much and spoil your offering!" A trail of blood rolls down his chin, and when he speaks his lips and teeth are covered in it, and if there were any doubt he has tasted of the fae there should be none now. He reaches out to pry Eames out of the guard's grip and 'restrain' him for himself, swaying on his feet slightly as he does, and not entirely for show either. "Come, monsieur! Let us not let this bounty go to waste!"

He steps forward with the fae man held close to him, but not as tightly as the guard might have done. If plans have come to fruition he knows Eames' bonds are not as tight as they seem after all, and if he wants for him to be his own distraction then he needs to stay out of his way.

"Well, welcome." Evie's hands find a gentle grip on Natasha's forearms, holding her close.

"It did- all things considering." Raymond making JC drink from their guest, for example. She'd been holding her breath, preparing to make a move if need-be.

One of the things Eames hates most about vampires, is how there's no hiding some things from them. He knows that the trio around him are completely aware of the note of panic that rises in him at Harris' 'offer,' the sharp inhale and the way his pulse spikes. It's a knowledge that only serves to fuel how unbelievably angry he is in this moment.

He struggles — against the guard, against Jean-Claude — but it's largely for show, more like a flinch as a show of defiance than anything he'd expect to help him get free. Eames doesn't take his eyes off Harris, even when Jean-Claude steps in close and tilts his head, his gaze is fixed on the Little man. Lips parted a moment as if he has something to say, but then Jean-Claude bites him and Eames clenches his jaw with a pained grunt, though he refuses to make more noise than that. One must consider his pride, after all.

"Too scared to try your own meal, huh?" Eames's voice is low, obviously pained, but quiet while Jean-Claude drinks from him, so only those of them on stage can hear. "Worried I might be poisoned? Or are you just that pathetic you need someone else to weaken me first?"

Goading? Absolutely. Even as Jean-Claude takes hold of him, (and Eames slowly, very slowly, tries to slip something out of Jean-Claude's trousers and into his hands. It's hard to use his magic in this state, but he can do it,) even with the stinging, open wounds on his neck and the rivulets of blood falling down his neck, there's something smug in Eames' expression. Like he's seen a joke no one else has, and it's on Harris' face. He needs to be absolutely certain that Harris will go for it, and he's seen the man's ego in action.

Natasha missed out on the excitement inside; she can tell from Evie's reaction that there's more than a little she'll want to ask about, find out what happened on the scene.

"You have more to clean up here? I shouldn't be out much longer, but I wouldn't mind hearing how things went on your end."

Evie nods. "I won't leave until everyone's safely out. It's the least I can do for Jean-Claude." She'd already done so much for him, but there's clean-up. Bodies to destroy, for example, blood stains to do away with.

"Go to my flat- it's closer. No one will disturb you." She had a great bed with black-out curtains. "There's no need to disturb anyone riding the night bus that way." With the blood and general battle-worn ways.

Caroline manages to see the end of the fight and it's pretty damn impressive. "You have got to teach me that," she calls back to Evie.

Caroline may be young but she's fighter. She definitely plans to have time after tonight for lessons or conversation or anything else that she wants to do.

As the vampire collapses, a bolt in his heart, Caroline manages to move into a better position. To her side, she sees some sort of animal charge through, though she doesn't get a good enough look to know exactly what - or who - it is. As long as they're on her side, Caroline doesn't really care.

Another vampire gets close to her and she readies the stake. Unfortunately, this one seems a little more lucid than some of the others and manages to knock the weapon to the ground before Caroline can use it. She only has a moment to think but luckily the vampire with the bolt through its chest is still in her line of vision. She rushes towards it and pulls out the bolt. Just as she is about to be attacked again, she spins and stabs the vampire in the chest with the bolt.

Evie doesn't have time to even think of calling back to her until after the the last gunshots have rung out. It's then that she tries to see if she can find the much younger woman amidst the survivors.

"Caroline," she says breathlessly when she finds her, reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder. "You're alright."

Jean-Claude can feel dawn approaching straight down to his bones as he makes his way out of the building at last to give the all-clear from inside. It's not only the fact that it's been a long, long night (it has), but there is something about being a creature of the night in possession of daylight jewelry that makes him especially attuned with the ebb and flow of the orb in the sky. With the ring around his finger he is tied to no schedule, but his body aches from the coming sun nonetheless.

Still, even with his fine evening clothes ripped and torn and covered in blood and gore, most of which does not belong to him, Jean-Claude still holds himself tall. He must. He is the new vampire leader, after all. And despite his history and his regular attitude, tonight has proven that he must be taken seriously.

He realized an hour or so into the congratulations that he had not seen Daryl yet. The man he'd left watching the door from the outside -- a role that was necessary given the circumstances but he can understand why Daryl might think it something of a let-down. He wonders if maybe he's left already since he hasn't snuck inside by now when he sees the other man stalking about, not unlike the big cat that he is. The idea put a smile on Jean-Claude's face as he slips out the door towards him.

"A fine show we put on tonight, mon ami," he murmurs as he approaches.

"You sure about that? I don't want to intrude." Especially after a fight like this. Evie might want to have the day to herself, to rest and recover. Clean up.

But if she's sure about her invitation, the prospect of spending the day with the other woman is tempting.

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[OPEN] MURDER ON THE DANCEFLOOR

Break of Dawn - for JC

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Re: Break of Dawn - for JC

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