undergrounds | [OPEN] MURDER ON THE DANCEFLOOR

Jean-Claude has invited along those that he can into the party itself, although those he cannot bring in personally he has arranged to watch the doors. The instructions are simple. Infiltrate the rave itself. Separate yourselves out among Raymond's vampires themselves. Those that are outside, watch the doors. Keep calm, and keep cautious. Wait for his cue. You will know it when you see it. When the time comes, prepare yourselves to fight. Vampire against vampire if it comes to that. And in the meanwhile? Enjoy yourselves! It's a rave after all. Just avoid the fae blood or you will be sorry.

Jean-Claude himself can be found among the fray, dancing here and there with another vampire in attendance on the floor, sometimes catching a drink at the bar. He has left a 'gift' to prepare itself in the back room, and up until the moment that it is time to present that gift to Raymond, he might as well enjoy himself with the rest of them.

The clocks are nearing up on midnight, and Jean-Claude knows that it is his call to action. He has made sure that all of his preparations are in place, and there is no time like the present. So it is with great ceremony that he makes his way up onto the stage at the front of the room and spreads his hands wide to call attention from the crowd. The music lowers itself softly, in observance of the moment, and Jean-Claude nods to the DJ in thanks.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the nest and the night," Jean-Claude addresses the room. "Your attention, if I may. Tonight is a very special evening. And it calls for a very special celebration." He gestures across the room to Raymond. "I have brought a present for you, mon ami. A present for the nest as a whole, perhaps you could say."

Once the deed is done, the room erupts in chaos, although they have all seen, they all know. The leader of the vampires is dead. There is a new leader in charge, and he has taken the city for his own. While Jean-Claude is normally a peaceable vampire, he has made his point quite clear. He will not suffer those who have an issue with the change in regime to live. If they cannot accept him as their new leader, then he cannot allow them to remain in the city. They can try and escape, but they will be found. They will be caught. They will be brought to justice. He will make certain of it.

The vampires in the dance hall have their orders. As do the allies positioned outside of the doors. No one is to escape. No traitor is to be trusted. Jean-Claude has few rules, few demands, but these are his orders and they will be obeyed.

"You actually did it."

Even after the fact, Joscelin can barely believe what's just happened. Jean-Claude's always struck him as being just a bit too romantic, a bit too soft, to actually get anything done.

And yet here they are.

"You actually bloody did it."

Chaos is where Evie thrives. The moment it's done, she's prepared. This isn't the first time she's been in a situation like this, and she knows it won't be the last. Sure, usually she's one for subtlety, but when you're dealing with a man like Raymond Harris, there's little time for it. This needed to be public, she'd understood. And it was.

Now came the fun part.

Armed to and including the teeth, Evie's ready. If anyone is watching, she moves like she's dancing. A sword usually makes it easy to decapitate, but this is close quarters combat, and she's prepared for a melee. Those who oppose the takeover will meet a swift end with a thrown stake or find themselves slowed by her Kukri. She takes her orders seriously. It's time to liberate London once again.

[ooc: come help her fight, or they can chat after the blood's been spilled WHATEVER WORKS.]

"Leave us." Evie waves a hand at the guard that's watching Eames. He hesitates, but Evie's look is enough to get him- a young, impressionable minion of Raymond's- to leave the room. When the door shuts, Evie already knows he's right outside, waiting. Not that Eames is any sort of threat. He still has orders.

Evie circles Eames, looking at the handcuffs they have him in- proper irons, and she winces for him. She approached him slowly, gloved hands going for the cuffs. it's a few moments, and she's managed to pick the locks, only to recuff him. This time, it's a bit more loose. She jerks her head towards the door, indicating the guard is still there. They've got to be quiet, play the game still.

But she wants to check up on him. Make sure he's alright. He volunteered for this after all, and she doesn't want their ally hurt.

"Treating you well, I hope?" Outside there's so much blood in the air, it takes every fiber of her being to stop herself from giving in. She needs to be sober for this, though her fangs are out in the natural reaction.

Honestly he'd forgotten how much iron burns. Pain is something Eames can handle, perhaps not always gracefully, but he can manage it. This however? The worst part isn't the pain itself, but the constant nature of it. The way it's impossible to be less than fully aware of it the whole time it touches him.

(Should've worn long sleeves, a part of him jokes, and Eames huffs an amused noise at seemingly nothing in particular.)

Eames looks up at Evie when she comes in, seemingly not at all pleased to see her, but his expression falls to something strained but still friendly when it's just the two of them. Groaning in the momentary relief of having his cuffs undone, and hissing slightly once they're redone. Not that he doesn't appreciate it, but it still hurts like a bitch.

"Good as can be expected," Eames says with an amused lilt, voice pitched low so it won't carry through the door, choosing to ignore the way her fangs are out. He wouldn't ally himself with a vampire he didn't trust to control themself. "Kind of funny, they really believe I'm not a threat like this."

"I'm sorry about the cuffs," she tells him. Right now he should be able to only have them resting on one part of his skin. At least she's been able to lessen the discomfort somewhat. It could have been far worse.

"Never underestimate a fae," Evie says with a shake of her head. Her tone is low, too, a whisper so the vampire on the other side of the door can't make it out. She's older than him, thank goodness.

"He's overconfident." Harris, not JC. They weren't going to mention his name here at all. The others could be taken out, Evie was ready to lay her life on the line for him, but he was the lynch pin in the whole affair. Without him, they had no one and would incur Harris' wrath all the more.

"How are you holding up?" She looks for fang marks on his neck or wrists. They need him at full strength.

"Had to pretend to be incapacitated through all his gloating, like he's the one who caught me, but no one gets to taste the main dish before the king."

Suffice it to say, if someone had tried to bite him there probably wouldn't be a someone left here to watch him, and that would be a mess. Still, Eames offers a (slightly pained) smile to punctuate his fineness.

Evie can't help herself, she rolls her eyes at their overlord's antics. "That must have been torture." Seriously, she's tried to avoid speaking one-on-one with him for that exact reason.

Well, that, and she desperately wanted to stake him.

"Good. We'll need you." Someone was already assigned to make sure Eames got un-cuffed quickly.

Jean-Claude is ever the showman. When he steps up on the stage, Raymond is at a table surrounded by his usual cronies and he looks up in surprise at the other vampire's announcement. One or two of his guards mutter darkly about this being unplanned, their eyes narrowing in suspicion, but the majority of vampires in the room are too drunk to think anything of it.

Not Raymond. He hasn't touched a drop of fae blood, so he's as sharp as ever. "I hope it's not yourself, JC!" Laughter in the room. Raymond grins. "I know old habits die hard, but I'd have to turn you down."

Jean-Claude can feel his heart pounding in his chest, pulse thundering in his ears, and there's a part of him that can hardly believe that he has succeeded in this either. It's not that he didn't believe himself capable of the hypothetical possibility of taking over the city. It's that he never believed he would ever have enough reason, enough backing, enough gall to step up and make it happen.

He glances aside at the other vampire from where he stands, covered in the blood of the former Duke of the city, and laughs. The sound loud and throaty, and perhaps a little shaky but then again he figures he is allowed here and now to need a moment to collect himself.

"It would seem that I did."

Joscelin brushes blood off his own cheek, having been caught by the arterial spray of some hapless underling who'd tried to get between him and Jean-Claude. There is blood all over the club, really, drying stickily to the walls and floor. He doesn't envy the cleaners their jobs.

The boy vampire steps over a particularly large smear of blood--Raymond's--to get closer to Jean-Claude and be heard over the chaos.

"God's wounds, Jean-Claude! I didn't think you had it in you. Masterfully done, old friend."

Jean-Claude wields the long blade he had produced from down the back of his jacket -- an old trick he had learned from a vampire hunter long ago -- and snarls in the face of the first vampire to try and mount the stage after he has let Raymond's body drop to the ground before running them clean through as well. There are other vampires who would let their people do the rest of the fighting for them. But Jean-Claude has no such opinion of himself. He just has to be careful that he doesn't get himself killed so soon after winning the city for himself.

It is only once the smoke has cleared, as they say, and Jean-Claude stands breathing heavily on the stage of the dance hall, covered in Raymond Harris' blood and that of his followers, sporting few new cuts and bruises that will heal in time but otherwise none the worse for wear, that he can finally take stock of the situation. And he tilts back his head and laughs.

"Ah, mon amie," he says, addressing Evie directly. "Remind me never to find myself on your bad side."

That makes two of them, sober and sharp and dangerous. Jean-Claude gives the other vampire an obliging smile and a theatrical bow at the joke at his expense. His reputation precedes him, of course. Raymond will know that even before Jean-Claude had owned a strip club, he had walked the streets not unlike the women and the men who he employs now. He will know where he came from before that, straight out of the clutches, and the bed for that matter, of his previous master in France.

"Alas, no," he replies. "If I were to be offering myself, rest assured I would have dressed for the occasion." Not that he isn't dressed to the nines now. Complete with deep purple velveteen frock coat and a long metal blade carefully strapped to his back beneath it. "You have named your requests for the evening, monsieur, and there has been fae blood on the menu. But you have not had any for yourself yet, I noticed. It is just as well. Perhaps you understood just what I had in store for you."

He gestures to the side wings, for the guards to go and fetch the 'prisoner', as it were, as he turns back to the Duke himself and says, "I understand that you have something of a feud at work. With the Lord of Autumn, that is."

Jean-Claude inclines his head at the other vampire, smiling wickedly at him, the thought of the image they must make, covered in blood and gore, only serving to widen his smile. He would embrace the child vampire if he thought such a gesture might be welcomed. Alas for the both of them, even in such a moment as this, he knows better.

"It is good to see you again,," he murmurs, switching to the old tongue for a moment, the tongue they share between them. The tongue he has barely had reason to use, since Joscelin has been in hiding these past few months. "You seem surprised at my success, however. I must ask, I hope the results do not displease you."

The way Eames is brought out isn't graceful in the least. He struggles as he's pushed, but it's largely for show, make it a little entertaining for Harris. Make him feel like he's really winning here. He's shoved to his knees, and looks up with his lip curled in a sneer. Eyes locked on Harris across the room.

Come on up, Raymond. You know you want to.

Evie won't lie, she loves the theatrical side of their new Duke. He's still on stage- his jacket is completely destroyed, good lord, this is why she likes to wear black- and he owns the moment completely.

Evie sheaths her kukuri, then removes a stake from the chest of a dead vampire. She cleans it of the blood, and places it back into her holster for such items. Fire from the wrist, it's essentially shooting from the hip.

"You're quite good with that sword of yours," she says first, instead of just accepting the complement. "I hope you give me a good fight, if you're ever on my bad side."

Slowly, she mounts the stage. "Félicitations à notre nouveau duc".

Raymond's cronies chuckle at Jean-Claude's little speech, in particular his remark about dressing for the occasion. Raymond himself remains silent, but he sits up, eyes alight with interest, when the guards drag a new prisoner up to the stage.

Eames, the Lord of Autumn, the arrogant fae who turned down his offer of an alliance. Well, well. He had last seen the fae thrown out of the Angelo when he had set his guards upon him. No doubt Eames remembers that too, judging by the hatred in his face. Bound by iron, he appears to be weakened but still defiant.

Well, if Raymond is going to break his fast and drink fae blood, this one seems a fitting tribute.

"A pretty prize." He waves his hand. "Bring him over."

"Careful, I might start thinking you're worried about me." He says it with a teasing lilt up at her, lips pulling into an amused smirk at her pragmatism. He doesn't have the luxury of worrying about tonight — if it goes wrong then he dies, and frankly Eames isn't about to let that happen — he has to be confident, ready. Pulse steady and breathing even while he tries to keep their plans fresh in his mind, even with the pain.

So the smirk and the easy humour are there to punctuate his confidence that things'll go at least mostly to plan.

Jean-Claude reaches down and runs his hand through Eames' hair as he kneels before him. Petting him as though he might pet a hound at his feet before he clenches a fist in the other man's hair and pulls him upright. He's certain that Eames is going to love him for this, but he'll understand. What is a performance without a little theatrics, after all? Or a stage, for that matter?

"Why not join me here, monsieur?" Jean-Claude calls out. Looking Eames in the eyes for a moment as he holds him close to himself, giving him a moment to collect himself for whatever might be coming before turning to Raymond once more. "I offer you a toast, after all. In front of all here gathered. For the Nest!" he calls out, and it is not just those he has planted among the crowd who cheer in response to his words.

He understands the need for theatrics, but that doesn't make it any less unpleasant, and the way Eames seethes at the petting and pulling isn't entirely for show. He clenches his jaw as Jean-Claude looks at him, working it when he looks back out on the crowd and Harris. There's no noise, no open hint of worry or fear, but he does flare his nostrils in open hatred for everything this event stands for.

Tonight feels different than the Southwark claim. Caroline is still scared to be here, to be involved, but she feels better able to deal with that fear. She knows she cannot let it rule her anymore, not if she wants to make a difference and prove that vampires aren't all bad.

That said, she still has to be smart. She spends the evening near the doors, ready to support anyone out there while also making sure she doesn't get trapped in a fight she can't win. Luckily, so many of Raymond's followers are high on fae blood and thus not in a great position to fight.

She has a stake ready for anyone who tries to escape.

Raymond is most amused by the show, in particular the look on Eames' face. And he can sense the mood of the crowd. He will have to go on stage. So he stands, taking two of his vampire guards with him, and approaches the stage to raucous hoots and cheers.

It so happens that Raymond is partial to a little theatricality himself. He certainly isn't going to let Jean-Claude upstage him. So he steps to the front of the stage and raises his hands to quieten the crowd.

"Thank you, thank you! And thank you to Jean-Claude for this most kind gesture. It's All Hallows' Eve!" He cries out that last announcement, throwing up his hands as the crowd cheer and stamp their feet. "Tonight, we celebrate freedom. Tonight, we let the blood flow. Tonight, I am Bacchus and I bring you drink."

He grins, slapping his hand on Eames' shoulder, to another whoop from the crowd. Then he steps back and indicates for one of his guards to take hold of Eames, pulling his head back at an angle to expose his throat. By this point Eames is between Raymond and Jean-Claude, and it's to Jean-Claude that his neck is being tilted.

"A toast!" Raymond claps his hands. "Jean-Claude. As a thank you for your generous gift, I offer you first bite. Let's see how much wine our Lord of Autumn can spill. Go on, take a drink!"

He gets the crowd involved too, chanting "Drink, drink, drink" while Raymond smiles and watches. Of course the truth is that he still doesn't entirely trust Jean-Claude, so making him drink first is a test. Everything about this night has been tightly controlled by Raymond except for this. He isn't about to let that control slip away.

Daryl would have been too conspicuous inside. He knows that. But the knowledge does nothing to make him less agitated. He'd been asked by Jean-Claude to help. To watch the exits and make sure no one escaped. He just didn't give much in the way of time frames except sometime later after most of Raymond's cronies were too drunk to fight well. It was going to be a goddamn purge of everyone that had hurt him and his kind over the summer and he couldn't even get a front row seat.

No one was getting out the doors alive unless they were one of Jean-Claude's.

But would it be too much to ask for it to open so he could have the satisfaction of getting a kill?

[OPEN] MURDER ON THE DANCEFLOOR

[OPEN] THE LEADUP

[CLOSED TO EAMES & RAYMOND] THE SHOWDOWN

[OPEN] THE AFTERMATH

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OPEN

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