NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Knowing that many nations in NS are pro dug, many are anti, and everyone loves a party (especially in Imitora), I decided I've put this off to long, and it should be started up. So you can join in as a protester, anti drug cop, raver, dj, whatever you want, and just have fun and enjoy.

IC:

Chloe Williams brushed the stray strand of brownish blonde hair out of her face. She had been standing infront of a mirror for over an hour getting ready for the night. In Imitora, this was THE night. THe opening night of Nighfest '04. 30 straigh nights, one full month, of sun down to sun up party action. And in Imitora, that meant some of the worlds best DJs, sexiest girls, great looking guys, and alaround good music.

Of course, it also meant plenty of protesters, police presence, and even the occasional threat of action from the cops, but that didn't bother Chloe. She was their for the music. Of course, if she happened to meet a guy or two, that would be just fine.

She finished toying with her hair, grabbed a handfull of Imitoran Credits, a couple glowsticks, and a few LED lights, and jammed it all into her pocket. She waved to her mother has she left the house, and got into her car, a black E36 BMW 323i. The drive was short to the warehouse that Nightfest was at this year, and despite the earliness of the evening, the building was already surounded by protesters. Appearently the older types thought any music that was played at Nightfest was either gay or produced in a drug induced stupor. FOr some reason, the leagality of most hallucenagens and the fact that the current First Speaker, Robert Fortier, was an avid fan of the style, and one of the few welfare programs of the nation was to support the up and comming artists.

Chloe sighed as she pushed past a group of old men claiming that techno was the downfall of Imitora. One jeered at her, and she simply returned with the finger, and walked towards teh building, entering in the first door.
___

Lt. Chris Wisteron simply sighed as his car, a BMW 545i, rolled past the building. He seriously wanted to flip the lights, get out, and arrest everyone inside, but couldnt. There was, after all, nothing illegal going on. Sure, a bunch of kids were killing their brain cells with God knows what, but why stop that? He simply rolled by, let his hand sit on his Kimber Custon .45, then pulled away. There had to be some one like him that wanted to stop this crap.

tag!

Wonderful idea, post forthcomming, hopefully

bump

A Royal blue CL 500 AMG Mercedes Bentz rolling on 24 Inch spinners creeped into the wharehouse twin chrome pipes wineing with power. Out stepped Carlitos Santiago, 1st cousin of Imitora's own Tyrone Delentti only Carlitos was on the black side of the family and just got out of the state penn after doing 6 years maximum sercurity. A BMW police car almost ran into his ride, he stormed over and knocked on the window lightly..the officer slowly started to power it down when Carlitos put his fist right through it grabbing the police LT. by the head pulling him out of the car wiggling and screaming

"hit my car fool! hell nawww!"

He held him in a head lock and took his gear belt then pushed him into the crowd head first

Just then 2 teenagers ran up with metal poles and started smashing the shit out of the police BMW, Carlitos stood by his Mercedes with the Kimber Custon .45 in hand

"what did i do,....daaamn where Tyrone..."

To Marcus Margo this was the life, he was sitting on a couch, listening to the extremely loud music blaring, beautiful women everywhere. Marcus was never just at home in Techon, they were anti-drugs, but MArcus felt they were a way to escape this world. He had short dirt blonde hair jelled back, and a chin full of stubbles, he was wearing yellow/orrange tinted sunglasses. He had on faded jeans, and a white t-shirt underneath his plaid shirt, he was also extremely handsome. In one hand was a glass of vodka, in the other hand, a ciggarette.

The rather infamous criminal Viktor Popov stepped out of a small black car and looked around. Currently, he was wanted in at least 20 countries for crimes ranging from grand larceny to murder. He had been recently chased out of his homeland and was laying low in Imitora for a while until the outcry from his most recent heist died down.

Not to mention, Imitora was fresh new hunting ground...

He could feel the reassuring wait of his two large .44 Magnum revolvers at his sides as he strode confidently towards the building. He quickly noted the positions of the police cruisers waiting for someone to slip up. He glanced over towards the jeering protesters and sent them a glare, which silenced them for a few seconds as he approached the door.

Viktor was a rather intimidating character at 6'4", 225 pounds and was about 29, though even he didn't know the exact time of his birth. His piercing grey eyes constantly scanned the area, conditioned by years of living on the run. His black trenchcoat flapped out behind him as he walked. He would occasionally run his hand through his dark brown hair, which he would do when he got nervous.

"I need some money" he thought, "I bet all of these rich kids have plenty on them..."

He pushed open the door and made his way over to an unoccupied wall and leaned up against it. He pulled out a cigarrette and took a drag, waiting for something to happen.

Chloe spun the two glowing white chemical light sticks around her body, expertly manuvering them through a series of figure eights, then down by her side, then around her head, then back across her body. The song was a rave clasic, Phat Bass by the Warp Brothers. She bounced around and to the sides, letting the sticks leave trails of white light behind them.

She kept up the routine for the good part of an hour, then collapsed on a random couch next to Marcus , generally worn out from the dancing. She looked over at the guy sitting next to her, and nodded. "Like the music?" she shouted over the blaring trance. She brushed a few strands of stray brown blonde hair out of her face.

He looked at her, checking her out behind his sunglasses, he nodded his head with a slight smile on.
"Yeah, they play this music a lot at the raves I have been to," He said, then looked back at the dancers, and turned his head back to her. "So whats your name?" He asked putting his cigarette out in an ash tray.

"Chloe, whats yours?"
__

Outside, the riot was contained rather quickly. Because Carlitos had been standing somewhat away from the incident, he was ignored, and two officers cam up on the young men bashing the car with pipes. They both, following their training, removed their handguns, aimed, and fired two .45 rounds into each rioter. The two bodies, now lifeless, were dragged away to some waiting ambulences.

By now, several riopt polic had shown up, and formed a barrier of sorts, letting Ravers by, but keeping protestors back.
___

There were, in many areas of Imitora, plenty of the so called bad asses. And many frequentd Nightfest. And Popov had gained their attention. A few members of a local group walked over, while the rest stayed back. They formed more or less a half circle around him, some close, some farther back.

The 'leader' of the group walked up, and looked into Popov's eyes. "Man fool, you got some cahones to come up and post here, trying to look hard. You know, you need to pay to be here. That or..."

He was interupted by four very large, intimadating looking bouncers that had been hired by the operators of Nightfest. "There any problem over here?"

Popov looked up, glaring straight back at the 'leader'. He blew a puff of smoke in the face of the 'leader' and said menacingly with a heavy accent. "Get out of here boy, I don't want to have to hurt you and your little friends here..."

Damion drove his car through the city. No teenagers, no police, no parnets. The parents slept. The police controlled a riot. The teens partied. Damion drove through the city.

His car whips through the streets. It is a 1965 Shelby Mustang GT 500 Convertable, painted silver with black stripes, a black top, and a pumping sound system. He listen to a mix of his favorite industrial music, many remixes. Two more blocks.

One more block. He heard screams, yelling, and then two gunshots. He knew what it was. Another riot. They always happen at huge clubs. He slammed the gas pedal.

He reached into the glove compartment, and removed a bag of hemoglobin, blood. He drank it and through the bag over his shoulder. A trickle went down his chin. As it dripped, he licked it off, looking enjoyed. Blood was his candy, for he is a vampire.

He sees the riot and slamms the breaks, downshifts, and powerslides towards the officers who just shot two protestors. He jumps out of the car, flyind four times higher than the normal human. He lands of one of the officers' heads, knocking him out. He punches the second, sending him flying against a trashed police cruiser.

He gets back into his car, parks it, and enters the club. Noone seemed to try to arrest him. Who would be stupid enough to try? It was time to party and meet some new prey, err, people...

"Chloe, whats yours?"

"The name is Marcus"

a vampire.

OOC: God damed Losambra....

IC:

"Well Marcus, its always a pleasure to meet new people," Chloe nodded. "So you come to alot of these."
___

No one tired to arrest Damion becuase, to effect, no one wanted to get involed with the night walkers in Imitora. After all, vampires delt with vampires, not cops. Thats why, when he enetered the club, he became the center of attention for a small group of toreador ravers, and the ventrue bartender. As he enetered the club, the bartender leaned over to one of the ravers, and nudged him.

He pointed out Damion to him and nodded. The Raver took note of this, and kept distance, noting the other vampire.
___

The leader, not intimitdated by Popov, but by teh boucner, nodded, and stepped back. "Whatever, I'l deal with you later, esse."

"Well Marcus, its always a pleasure to meet new people," Chloe nodded. "So you come to alot of these."

"Yes it is, and yes," Marcus said scooting over closer to her. "It is nice to meet new people."

Popov smiled and waved sarcastically, "It's been nice meeting you..." He then went back to his cigarette...

Sonny Harris pulled into the Nightfest parking lot. He was a somewhat impressive looking man at 6’7 and 230 pounds and 23 years old. He stepped from his dark blue Toyota Supra, running a hand through his brown hair, cut short. He discreetly stuck his hand inside his jacket and felt reassured when his hand wrapped around the butt of his PPK pistol. Just in case some of these guys get a little rowdy

Sonny liked to party, but, that wasn’t why he was here. Well…not the primary reason he was here. He was the youngest field agent in the Office of Internal Security, Transnapastain intelligences and security police service. Sonny, who had spent most of his life at raves much like this one, only not so popular, when he was picked up by an OIS Narcotics team during a sting. What saved Sonny was his father position as a Sub-Commander in the OIS, and his excellent grades in school. Sonny was offered a position doing undercover surveillance on parties inside the nation.

Years ago, almost all narcotics had been legal in Transnapastain. That is, before Blade. Blade was one of the most deadly narcotics ever. It was original a chemical weapon developed by Kaukolastan as a knock-out gas. However, the Blade was so strong, it locked the recipient in a waking-night terror state. Highly addictive, if you survive the trips, it has attributes of Ecstasy, PCP, and LSD combined. Receiving too large a does, anything over 25ppm, the user enters a zombie like state, higher brain functions cease, and nightmares begin. Most blade users attack others, attempt to kill whatever it is attacking them in their dream, some Blade users act out sexual fantasies. Most die from heart attacks. A low does is survivable, however, and produces one of the best highs ever.

Over 10,000 people died when a widespread outbreak of Blade occurred in Transnapastain. Since then, it’s been difficult to get Aspirin without a prescription. The OIS never succeeded in rounding up the remaining stockpiles of blade, and, there are rumors of “undead” Blade users living in the undercities. The OIS was also never sure if any blade had been shipped out of the nation.

Blade is a liquid, it us take by using an inhaler, which sprays a blade mist into the user. Blade can also be injected, though almost all cases of injection are fatal, and can be transferred by blood-to-blood contact. Once someone is infected, they tend to attack others, spreading the infection. An entire city in Transnapastain, Maylor, had become infected, and had to be leveled to contain the outbreak, 5,000 some odd people died in that action. Blade users, while on the drug, gain strength and become rather resilient. Blade “zombies” are reported to be able to take 50. Caliber rounds to the chest and getting back up. Fire and headshots are the only surefire way to tale them down. 9mm rounds aren’t always good enough. Anything below .45 ACP doesn’t have much of a chance, unless they strike the blade “zombie” in the head.

That’s where Sonny came in. The OIS, and Transnapastani government fear Blade about as much as any nation fears a nuclear war. They have no interest in seeing any nation suffer the same fate as they did during the crisis. Sonny job was to see if any Blade canisters or users we’re present at one of the world’s premier raves, find their nation of origin, and eliminate them, if possible. Since Transnapastain had no official relations with the Imitora government, he was soloing it here, if he was discovered by the police to be a foreign intelligence agent, there could be hell to pay, if he was discovered to have murdered some raver…there would be hell to pay.

Most times, Blade hadn’t shown up outside of the nation, which was a good thing. Sonny, more than anything, just wanted to meet a pretty girl and enjoy himself.

He worked his way through the path cleared by the Riot police, smiling and waving to the protesters, little did they know he was here to help them.

He worked his way into the warehouse, and was thrown back to his high school days, the lights, and the music, he remembered all the raves he’d gone to, and he was instantly back into his environment. He began to dance, looking for where the alcohol was kept. He marked the location of a very attractive girl waving chemical lights around herself, and big, burly man that pretty much had [b]wanted, don’t fuck with me[/I] tattooed on his forehead, a group of thug eyeballing the criminal, and some bouncers between the two, making sure nothing happened and everyone remained “friendly”. He also located some obvious drug dealers, and memorized their faces, deciding to enjoy himself 1st, and hit them up, later.

He grabbed himself a drink, and danced his way into the crowd, looking for an attractive girl to talk to.

((OOC: If anyone has a problem with what my chara is doing, tell me, and ill retcon all that, also, if anyone here decided to play the blade story with me, do so at your own risk. Its part of back-story for my nation, and central to my history, so, don’t steal it, and I really don’t recommend taking it home with you, if anyone wants to read what it can do, let me know, and ill send you a link to the thread, though, its still being worked on.))

Damion walked through the rave. The music playing was hard-core techno. Being a vampire, this music made him sick. He reached into his paocket and removed an MP3 player. Whilst putting on the headphones, he noticed a weird scent in the room.

It wasn't a usual smell of drugs or alchohol. It was something, stronger. Some sort of super drug. He walked through the crowd of moshers to a door. He smelt the door. The smell came from inside. He reached into his pocket and removed a cell phone.

Dialing a number, he looked around. He waited a few moments and spoke. "The product is here. Now, if you want to bust 'em Harris, its getting close to time. You'll know where they are in a few moments." He didn't bother putting the phone into his pocket, he threw it into the crowd.

Into his back holster, Damion removed a IceNine Special Issue .45. Onto it he had enscribed a many gothic symbols and enscriptions. Its name was 'Savior'. Yes, he named his guns.

He kicked the door and stormed in. It was a horrible scene. One guy and a girl. Thats it. Or so it appears on first sight. The male was forcing the female to take a drug that is beyond human comprehension. Damion fired into the man's shoulder, sending the doper and blood flying back.

The doper pulled out an uzi and fired into Damion. The vampire spun around and hid under his cloak. The cloack fell from mid-air as the doper used the entire clip. The vampire stood behind the man, and grabbed his neck. "Treat-" he slammed the man into the wall, head first, "-women-" again he smashed him inot the wall, blood speyer everywhere, "-with respect!" Damion shoot a final round through the man's cerebellum.

He walked over to the girl. He could tell she had been raped, and drugged. No too much, thankfully. Damion sat beside her and injected her with a needle form his pocket. "This should help," he said softly as he began to pick her up. "I need to get you to a hospital soon-" said Damion. The ploice wouldn't touch him. He can save this woman. Maybe he won't live in Hell for eternity.

Sonny had just found a very attractive young lady named Dania when his cell phone rang. Awe, son of a bitch! he thought. He looked at Dania. “Hey, sorry, I’ll be right back.” She smiled and nodded, continuing to dance.

Sonny walked away from her. Some new techno song had started, something he didn’t know. He walked across the warehouse and to the door. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and looked at it. Unlisted Number? This aint good… he said as we flipped it open. “Hello?” he said

There was a slight pause, and he could hear the techno song coming through the phone. Then a man spoke. The product is here. Now, if you want to bust 'em Harris, its getting close to time. You'll know where they are in a few moments."

Sonny glanced around, hand reaching inside his coat “Who the hell is this? How did you get this number?” More importantly…how did you know why I was here? The OIS doesn’t have anyone else on station here… There was no answer, the call had ended. Sonny ran up some stairs, pushing a couple of ravers out of the way, and out onto a balcony overlooking the warehouse. He saw people dancing, running around, he could see people sitting at the bar drinking…then he saw the man kick the door down and rush in, hearing gunshots almost right afterward. Sonny vaulted the railing, landing on a raised dancing platform, smiling at the startled female dancing, he jumped from there to a table, and ran across the warehouse. When he reached the door, he drew his PPK, and spun into the room. Inside, there was the body of a man, shot to shit, blood all over the wall and…oh, holy shit something that seriously looked like a blade inhaler. He tucked his pistol back into his coat, and closed the door, locking it.

The 1st thing he did was put on some latex gloves and a mask. He dragged the body off into a bathroom, and hid it in the ceiling above the tiles. Hiding the mans Uzi in the trashcan. Then, taking some Clorox cleaner, he mopped up the blood as best he could, cleaning himself off in the process.

Then, searching the room, he found two more blade containers, both full. He placed them, along with the empty one, into a plastic bag. He removed his mask and gloves, removed a lighter from his pocket, and burned them. Then taking the bag, he walked back out of the room. He walked back to his car, and placed the items in his trunk, in a palm-coded, vacuum-sealed box that was cleverly disguised as a subwoofer. Walking back into the warehouse, he laughed to himself about the protesters, if not for him, and whoever that caller was.. they could be running in terror right now from “undead” drug users. However, they remained blissfully unaware.

As damion turned to walk out, he suddenly found himself face to face with three 'men'. "I dont think so puke face," one of them said. As he spoke his fangs became visable, and the air turned cold. The loud hard house had covered up the sound of the gunshots, but the two Brujah and one Malkav standing in front of him had heard it, and weren't moving anytime soon. Both Brujah were massive, each standing a t least 6'5, easily over 250 pounds of muscle, and both visably armed with some large fire power. The malkav was a little less intimidating visually, but everyone knew not to mess with a Malkav.

At teh bar, the Ventrue bartender looked over, and nodded, and a few Toredor nodded back, and faded into the crowd.
___

On the couch, Chloe laid back. "SO what brings you here to Imitora? Just Nightfest?"
___

The possibility of the drug known as Blade being at the rave did exist, however, it was a small possibility. 98% of the narcotics found in Imitora were not only legal, but produced by the major pharmacuetical companies. Thats why, to the suprise of few, excstacy, acid, saliva, and mescaline were in large quantities at these parties.

Damion stared back at his two attackers. They stared into his soulless body, wanting to kill him. Damion walked over to a plot of grass and placed down the girl's body.

Stopping, he thought. He thought of communicating with his other coven. Suddenly the replied back to him. They knew he needed help.

Damion placed the gun, his coat, and a bag on the ground. He craked his neck, and then his fingers. A fire burned inside of him.

He kicked on of the Brujah in the face. The other one cam after him. Damion fell to the side and tripped him, sending it into the third attacker. He couldn't hold out long, he need some backup fast.

On the couch, Chloe laid back. "SO what brings you here to Imitora? Just Nightfest?"

"The nightfest is one thing, the next is the stuff in nightfest, the drugs, the beer, everything, third is the girls at nightfest," Marcus informed with a smirk.

Chloe laughed. "Smooth Romeo," she joked. She looked around, and nodded towards the bar. "Want something to drink?"
___

The first Brujah recovered rather quickly, and as soon Damien tried to move, the large vampire was right in front of him. Well, more to the side so that as Damien moved forward, a strong arm slammed into his throat, dropping him to the ground, and the Brujah was right on top him. The Malkav rolled up, and quickly put a knee into the Damien's throat.

He then removed a sake from under his coat. While few of the clans got along easily in Imitora, the last thing they needed was someone trying to move in on them. He held the stake above Damien, and smiled. "Why should I not rekill you?"

Chloe laughed. "Smooth Romeo," she joked. She looked around, and nodded towards the bar. "Want something to drink?"

He looked at his empty glass, raised his eyebrows, and frowned. "Sure." He said with a smile.
He stood up and offered her a hand.

She took his hand and stood with him. "So, what got you into the lifestyle?" she asked, letting her eyes slide over him. He wasn't that bad looking, and so far, pleasent enough to talk to.

"Hmm just the freedom of it all I guess," He said. "My entire family did drugs so that was nothing new to me, but I just love the beat of the music and such, these places are just good places to hang out."
He started walking with her towards the drinks.

"Yeah, the music was the big thing. I just love it. I know alota people cant stand it, but they dont know what their missing." As they approached the bar, she nodded at the bar tender. "Red bull and vodka," she ordered, and the man went to work. The songs changed over, and the beat stil kept pulsating. "My parents never did drugs, and I do them on occasion, but whatever, ya know?"

"Yeah I get ya," He said as the bartender handed him his drink, he looked at her an smiled.

He walked in to the Nightfest. He appeared to be 25, but then again, appearances are decieving. K'val observed all, and said nothing. He fell out of favor with the crime lords of dakara, so he was on the run, he was for now in Imitora. He sat on a couch, thinking of the sad way his existence had turned.

The silver sedan rolled to a stop, the tires grinding the gravel beneath their treads. Three doors opened, the back and the passenger side, and three pairs of shoes struck the ground. A set of boots, caked and worn, a pair of wingtip dress shoes, and a simple set of nice sneakers, all moved in unison. The sedan rolled away, and the three passengers stood in front of the door to the club, watching the garish lights flicker with each pulse of techno music.

Alan Riven, ISA Paranormal Operative, flicked his cold eyes to the sides, subtly checking angles and opportunities. Dressed in a tailored suit, he was done up as a simple young executive, out for a night of wild partying away from the stodgy office. To his side, but deliberately not flanking him, were Cassie Helms and Derek Germish, also Paranormal operations. They split up, approaching the various clubs, moving from bar to bar, "randomly" converging on the same nightclub at different times, coordinated by inner-ear and throat sub-vocalizing tight-band transmitters.

There was nothing ominous about this mission, nothing agressive. They were here simply to observe, to learn, and to research. Imitora's nightlife was quite renowned inside the Paranormal Division, the Spooks of Spooks, and it was not so jokingly referred to as "Night-unlife". Riven's team was here to add to their collection of data on these "aberrant" creatures, to gain the insights on their behavior, to learn their strengths and weaknesses, to harness them... or to destroy them. But that was later. Now was time for learning.

Paranormal knew much about the various life-forms that made their existance in the netherworlds of death, but there was so much more to learn. The team carried all of the necessary equipment for this mission, namely cameras, electromass spectrometers, and various pieces of scanning hardware... all compressed inside of cell phones, pagers, and PDAs, of course. There was also the necessary fallback equipment, such as the N.01 and other various firearms... but these were purely precaution. After all, this was a purely scientific expedition.

Riven walked into the dance hall, spotting but not contacting his team. The pulsating beat made the corner of his mouth twitch up in either annoyance or enjoyment, and he walked to the bar. Sitting down, he motioned to the bartender, "One scotch on the rocks, please." He paid in the local currency, tipped well, and rolled his seat back around to watch the floor in feigned boredom.

So many abberations in one location... this will be a goldmine. The scanners were running, and the team simply waited, watched, and "enjoyed" the party.

OOC: Just some outside info, in Imitora, the vampire population is minimal, around 100 in the entire nation. Also, my vampires go by V:tM rules, so that should help.

IC:

The bar tender droped the tip in a tip jar, and went back to observing his friends. Out on the floor, people continued raving, swinging around glowsticks and LEDs spinning them in artistic fasions. The real party started in under an hour, when several reps from the pharamceutical companies were scheduled to show up.

Marcus took a gulp of his vodka.
"Ahh, always has a good taste," He said to himself.

Chloe nodded. "Yeah, oily as hell, and alwasy good with Red Bull." She removed a small case from her pocket and pulled out a white pill with a red 'i' on it. She popped the pill into her mouth, and washed it down with the drink. "Want one?"

"Sure," He said taking the pill and doing the same.

OOC: Roger that, Imitora, I mistakenly assumed that being the "blunt" way the vampire characters were used, they were common. Either way, they by far exceed the nonexistant levels in my nation. I'll just sit back and observe the dynamics.

Sonny walked up to the balcony again. He just learned from several ravers that most drugs in the nation we’re totally legal, as expected, and produced by large pharmaceutical companies, which, it was said, we’re supposed to be sending reps to the party, who ought to be arriving in about an hour.

He, then, concluded that the chances of another encounter of Blade was minimal, so, he switched back into party mode, and bought himself a glass of vodka from the bar. He saw one man at the bar who looked vaguely familiar, but Sonny paid him no mind, he wasn’t really doing anything, just sitting there, watching… kinda creepy, really…. if I know him…I don’t want to anymore… he thought as he walked off

He wandered back out into the crowd in search of a pretty young lady to talk to, again

The red eye, as it was known, that Chloe had just injested, was an intresting mix. It started life out as a simple 200mg cafine pill, then was crushed up, diluted into water, and then a phencyliphatic liquid was quickly mixed in. Afterwards, it was compressed back into pill form, and sold for around 40 dollars for a box of 50 pills. Not only did it cause the standard hallucenigneic response from the PCP, but the increased cafine injestion sped up the process.

"I've never had one of those before...mind telling me like what they will make me do?" Marcus asked her.

Due to her low body wieght, Chloe had already started taking to the pill. She all but fell into Marcus' arms, looked up at him and smiled. "They make you feel like...everything." She twirlled away from him, and started wandering off into the crowd.

"Hmm..." Marcus said...he felt a little different, he watched her and smirked, then started to follow. "This could get interesting."

At this point, a new DJ had taken to the turn tables, and was, has could be observed, a fan of Warp Brothers. After a few tracks, he came to a remixed version of Phat Bass, made famous by the movie Blade. By now, Chloe was gone. The effects of the red eye were similar to PCP mushrooms with a kick of extra potency, and she simply pulsated her body to the beat of the music. To her the soundwaves had taken form, and colors danced to the air, puls with the music.

Marcus was starting to feel the effects also, he just stopped thinking and started dancing to the beat of the music, standing right beside Chloe. He danced on and on, the effects deepening. Soon enough he just didn't think at all, all he did was dance.

Slowly, the world came back to Chloe. The thing about red eyes is that the effects took place quickly, but only lasted for about an hour. After what many would call a 20 minute 'cool down', the beats stopped apearing as colors, and the adrenaline rush disappeared. She looked over at Marcus, and pointed to the bar. "I'm thirsty, wanna get a drink?"

"Sure," Marcus said regaining himself.

The earpiece crackled, and Riven leaned back, as if to talk to someone near him. Cassie's voice slid through his ears, produced by direct manipulation of the inner-ear muscles, "No activity yet, other than that cleanup from earlier. Looks like we missed the good stuff. All we got here is a bunch of ravers and cooked drugs."

Riven might have smirked at that. He subvocalized, "Give it ten more minutes, then we call it a night. Then you can get a drink, whatever. We'll rendezvous in the morning." He took a sip and coughed lightly. The music was slightly grating to the man, but he tolerated it for the sake of the observations. In the corner, yet another couple was tripping, and Riven sighed. Degenerates.

It didn't take long for the small group to get their chance to do what they were there for. As Chloe and Marcus approached the bar, the bartender waved two people who had been their for a good hour away. As they turned, one looked at Riven, and inadvertantly flashed his fangs. They moved into the crowd of ravers, melding in with the others.

Nevermind that whole degenerate thing. To this, the cold man smiled openly, before it fell below the icy sea. "Mark two in crowd. Male and female, age... undetermined, apparently about twenty six and twenty eight respectively." He listed off the distinguishing features. "Hang back, watch social habits. Be aware of any hunting maneuvers, and be prepared to tail if exit is suspicious."

OOC: Check TGs

Popov finished his cigarette and dropped it on the ground, extinguishing it with the sole of his boot. He reached into his pockets,

"Damn, no money..."

He wandered into the crowd and spotted a guy in rather nice clothes. Judging him to have some money. Popov moved over towards them, as he walked by he bumped into him. He muttered, "Sorry" while quickly slipping his hand into the man's pocket, withdrawing his wallet and sliding it up his sleeve.

As he walked away, he opened up the wallet. It only had a bit of money in it, so he took the bills out, tossed the wallet on the ground, and made his way over to the bar.

He took a seat beside a man in a suit. He looked over at him and gave him a nod, then he turned his attention to the bartender.

"Give me the toughest thing you got..."

He slid the bills across the bar towards the bartender...

Riven watched the man sit next to him, saw the slitted glance, the nervous tick on the index fingers. Criminal, spy, or lunatic. Riven categorized the man. Dangerous, but not my department. If he pops wings, I'll worry. The agent devoted a portion to watching Popov, just to be certain that nothing would happen to blow his cover. It just wouldn't do to have a "businessman" open fire with an exotic Sag piece, or to suddenly demonstrate Krav style martial arts.

His attention now split, Riven became more sullen, and he waited for a contact from his team.

The vampires in the crowd were indeed scouting, but not for food. They were looking for ghouls, or mortals that they could manipulate to follow thier cause. They scanned, and began moving in on a young girl who looked rather unsuspecting. As they moved in, the femal leaned over to the male. "You do know that guy stole your wallet, right?"

The male leaned over, and nodded. "I'll take care of him later, we got more things in front of us for fun. He moved in behind the girl, placing his hands on her hips, and started grinding with her with the music. His female counterpart watched from a short distance.

The bartender, feeling a bit cocky, pulled out a bottle, and poured a redish liquid into the glass. The drink was simply just red bull, but with a good amount of liquid acid and e mixed in, just for fun.

Popov took the glass and drained it in one go. He set the glass back down on the bar and began coughing violently for a few seconds. "Holy shit! What do you use that stuff for, degreasing?"

After waiting a few seconds, he spoke again to the bartender, "Hey, do you know anywhere around here a guy could make some easy money?"

The bartendor chuckled. Wait till the LSD and MDMA kick in, he thought. "Easy money, naw, cant help ya. I'm sure there are some gnag bangers around here or somtin that could use you."

"We've got their mark... young girl, probably out partying behind her parents' backs." Cassie's voice hummed in Riven's ear.

He took another small sip. Still on the first glass. The social art of drinking and drinking, but never consuming any. "Triangulate and observe."

"Sir, we should intervene-"

"You're a professional. The girl is no concern. Besides, this isn't a food hunt. Too public. Let's just observe."

"I'm keeping the Inferno pistol ready."

"You do that, but more importantly, record any status changes." Riven changed tones. "Germish, you seeing this?"

"Yes, sir." The soft spoken man stated, not even breaking his movements as he played poker in the corner with a group. "All lines up and recording. Ready to follow on movement."

"Okay, team, now it gets fun. Germish, you're eyeball, Helms, take secondary, I'm tertiary."

The two vampires circled thier prey, the female moving in slowly on the dancing girl till she too was grinding against her. The males mouth was dangerously close to the victims throat, and she had no idea. The male was slowly moving her away from teh rest of the group, and she just went with it. His domination power, pulling her away, and with his ease, he was probably a ventrue.

The female would be the one who ghouled the girl, and she already had a floding razor out, ready to make a slice across her wrist to pour her blood into the girls mouth. She had a small can of soda ready to help the girl drink it down.

"Biochemical changes on all spectrums. Looks like they're losing some degree of control on their latent characteristics." Cassie reported.

Riven felt like he was back home, in the Valen highlands, hunting with his father, and he could here the words of wisdom, "Beware tunnel vision, focussing on your prey so intensely you forget your surroundings, or miss another threat." They're suffering from target fixation, they're losing their masquerade.

There was a flash of a razor, and Riven's eyebrows rose less than a millimeter. He heard Germish report, "Sir, the spectral analysis is way off the charts, we're talking massive psychic presence, I'm going to reconfigure to a Beta Two cycle."

Cassie rang in, "Sir, I see a razor, it looks like a slice and dice... sir, we should stop this-"

But Riven was intrigued by this. "It's a blood-binding, or something similar. Old native customs, we chucked them millenia ago... perhaps they have some arcane base." He rose from his seat, drifting aimlessly to keep an eye on the vamps. "I'll take eyeball."

There was an irony in Riven thinking the vampires were too fixated on their target to notice him. The vampire bartender was watching him intensley. If he made a move, the oddly large ventrue would make his move.

The female opened the soda, and then offred the girl a sip, which she obviously took. Then, with a quick swipe, the vampire slit her own wrist, and let the blood drop into the girl's mouth. She swallowed it, along wiht another gulp of soda, and was taken. The female vampire slid away, and the male stayed with her. In less than an hour, shed be under their control completely.

Popov, noticing the attention that the man was paying to several people in the crowd and looked over.

He watched the female slit her wrist and let the blood drop into another girl's mouth. Whether it was the drugs kicking in or not, he couldn't tell. He then turned back to the bartender, "Is that just me, or are people drinking each other's blood? It's starting to get a little wierd in here..."

Marcus was leaning against the bar as well, he watched with a wrinkled forhead, blood sticking out of his mouth.
Bloody hell? He thought, and walked over to the group, who he didn't know, were vampires.
"What the hell are you doing?" He asked.

Sonny had just found, yet another, pretty girl and was about to get her name when some strange men and a woman came over and she walked away with them, smiling back at him as she danced away

Godamnit… thought Sonny.

He walked back up to the bar for another drink. Reaching the top, he noticed the creepy man he’d seen before still sitting there, and, next to him, was the criminal-type Sonny had seen on the way in. An open seat next to both of them…

Aw crap…I’ll set next to the creepy guy… thought Sonny as he slid into the seat and ordered a Bud Light.

The bartended handed him his drink, and took the money…but, there was something not quite right about the way he did it, as if his attention was focused somewhere else. Discretely, Sonny followed his gaze out over the dance floor, where he saw the young girl from before, and that group of freaks she’d walked off with. He had looked over just in time to see the flash of a razor, and some droplets of blood enter the girls mouth, along with a drink from a can of soda…

holy shit, if she’s into that weird kinda crap…she can keep her AIDS to herself, thank you. he said as he crossed himself. I don’t need that crap, anyway…

He turned back to his drink…and noticed that the man next to him, Creepy dude, as he dubbed him, was paying attention, though obviously hiding it better than the bartender, to the young girl himself…

there may be more to it than I think…or maybe he just likes blood too…

that last thought, about the blood, triggered something in the back of his head

Wait a sec…Vampires are not uncommon in the world, or this nation…stereotypically…wanna-be vampires and Goths aren’t to dissimilar, Goth-types would be here…Vampires sometimes bring new people into the fold….That one girl dropped blood into the other girls mouth….People become vampires when being bitten by…or…oh shit…ill bet those people are vampires…poor girl…

It was then that Sonny felt bad. maybe if id been more forceful, I could have prevented her from going with them…or, maybe I could have gotten my ass kicked by some vampires…

He tried the old intelligence trick, pretend like they didn’t matter, because they aren’t part of your mission, but, it wasn’t working

“Hey, bartender dude? I need something stronger, please, and, uh, don’t put any crap in it, please?” he said, willing sliding over a 20 dollar bill

He’d been to parties before, he knew what strange people did to drinks. He breathed a sigh in relief that he could use his issued contacts and get the make-up of the drink. The contacts weren’t for bad vision, instead, they were smaller optic scanners, much like the ATIS scope used by the Transnapastani Sniper Corps. They were linked to a satellite, which was linked to the main archives at Valhalla, and could identify anything with in its registry. Technology is a wonderful this, though, it does get rather annoying looking at someone and them always having a little sign that says Terrain or Elf over their head, which is why I tend to keep mine turned off…wait a sec… he though, and blinked twice, quickly, activating the scanners, and looked at the bartender. Sure enough, he didn’t register as a regular human. His biosigns were off normal human norms, whatever he was, he wasn’t human….and ill bet my entire paycheck he’s a vampire

It was then he became reluctant to drink anything anymore.

The bartender didn't need to add anything on his own, most of the drinks in Imitora already came with some form of narcotic in them already. However, He simply uncorked a bottle of 25 year old whiskey, poured it into a glass with some ice, and slid it to the man.

As Marcus walked over, the girl responded first. "Just having some fun, baby, chill. You wanna try some of this, its kinda good," she said, moving in on him.

Marcus stood still as she walked up to him. "You want me to drink other's blood? Like some kind of vampire?"

"C'mon baby," she said, running her hand down his chest. "Its fun, you'll like it, trust me."

OOC: For those wondering, ghouls are mortals who are under a vampires control after taking a sip of the vampires blood. They have none of the strengths, or weaknesses, of vampires, only teh desire to do what their master tells them to do.

"Listen," Marcus said. "Its going to take more than that to get me to do what you just did."

Sonny saw that the Whisky was pretty old, paid for it, and tipped the man an extra 40 dollars.

He sat down, at a table at the edge of the balcony and went back to surveying the crowd, pondering his next move

"Awww, whats the matter baby, afraid of trying new things? Trust me baby, you'll love it." She pressed more up against him, letting her breast press up against him, sliding her hands down to his butt.

OOC: Riven is a professional intelligence officer. He isn't blankly staring with an open mouth.

IC:
God damnit it. Riven had to restrain a sigh. There goes the whole quiet observation plan. The criminal next to him was staring, so was the whiskey drinker, and some moron was about to get taken apart by a vampire-whore. God damn these people. Have they no civility?

He turned back to the bartender. "So, this kind of crap happen often?" He thumbed back at the growing confrontation, acting like an interested businessman way over his head. His sensors lit up on the bartender. Another one? "Can I have a drink for the road, my friend? Another scotch?" And I'll be watching that scotch closely. "This is a little to rich for my blood." He dropped the "innocent" double-entante, took his drink, and left a healthy tip. "Thanks."

Entering the crowd, he stated. "I'm semi-blown. Shifting to backdrop point , tertiary. Cassie, pick up eyeball. Record this... monitor that girl for any changes in biochemistry." As he walked through, he nonchalantly picked up the glass the girl had been drinking from before, and quickly swiped a swab around the lip of the glass. He placed the glass back and left the room. "I have a sample of untampered tissue. Get a tampered sample."

Riven stepped out the back of the bar, as if to take a cigarette break.

"Awww, whats the matter baby, afraid of trying new things? Trust me baby, you'll love it." She pressed more up against him, letting her breast press up against him, sliding her hands down to his butt.
He moved his hand up her body, moving his hands up her chest, feeling her.
He looked down at her and smirked slightly. "What do you want me to do?"

Sonny watched the man get up and leave, though, he paid him no mind. That man was there on a mission, just like Sonny himself, professional curtsey meant that Sonny should let the man continue on his mission, unmolested, though, he did snap a quick picture of his face and send it through his ATIS contacts to Valhalla command, asking for a name for the face.

Sonny turned back to the bartender, trying not to look at the criminal a seat down from him, a glace had shown that he was experiencing some medical problems in his body, a reaction of the LSD and Ecstasy in his drink, no doubt, and Sonny had no intention of pissing him off.

He drained his glass, and left another 20 dollars on the bar, and wandered off to try and find a bathroom.

Bathrooms were not hard to find, as many of teh patrons stocked up on drinking water before leaving. The line would be small, but anoying, and Riven would find himself having his hand stapmped before going outside.

The female vampire bit her lower lip so that just enough blood came out. She leaned in to kiss Marcus. All he had to do was kiss back, and he woudl be theirs.

Marcus leaned in, and was about to put his lips to her, when instead he jumped back and pulled out a cross.
"Do not be fooled," He said smirking. "I am no mindless drugee. I am an agent, here to stop you damned vampires."
He reached inside his coat, and pulled out a future tech looking gun with a giant magazine.
"This baby shoots out stakes," He said as he aimed it at her chest. "Ready to die?"

Sonny was working his way across the dance floor when the man being worked over by the Vampire-Whore was sudden staring at a huge, wicked-looking gun

Son of a…will this ever end cried Sonny as he dove for cover, instinctive grabbing the nearest person and using them as a human shield, and subsequently throwing them to the ground and apologizing

He drew he PPK, then, remembering his instructions to be “low profile” he replaced it in its holster.

The people in the club had formed a circle around the Vamp-whore and the man with the stake-gun. Sonny noticed a young girl, maybe 20 or 21, knocked to the floor by the rushing crowd, lying there, in the direct line of fire of the Agent.

He rushed out, rolling over her, he scooped her up, and rolled her to safety behind a metal table set against a wall

She was barely conenose when he came upright. She was curled into the fetal position, he head resting in his lap. He re-drew his pistol, cocked the gun, and took aim at the end of the table. If anyone comes around that corner, they die.

The girl was shaking, reflexively, he stroked her hair and whispered “shhh, it’ll be alright, just be quiet and hold still, and we’ll be ok…” She didn’t respond, but, she was still shaking and breathing, so, Sonny assumed she’d passed out.

He simply sat and waited

Popov, glanced back over towards the man, he saw him jump back and pull out what appeared to be a cross. "What the hell is going on here...?". He then saw the gun, instantly he went for one of his two large revolvers and leveled them at the crowd.

He picked up a stool and smashed it on the bar, leaving him with a rather sharp stick. He figured that he would be better off if he had a melee weapon when his ammo ran out.

He shouted out towards the man, "What the hell is going on?"

Marcus didn't turn around, he kept his gaze on the vampire his eyes meeting her.
"She is a vampire, there are many in the crowd no doubt," He said. "I most likely walked myself into this whole thing, a trap I led myself into. Keep a steady eye out, the others might be on the move."

"Vampires!?"

Popov had seen many strange things in his travels throughout the world, but he always though vampires were just in stories to scare children. He went back through the obscure memories of his own childhood...

"Vampires, can't stand crosses, stakes and garlic..."

He grinned and hefted the stick in his hand, he began to feel the bloodlust which led him on his life of crime to emerge from the recesses of his mind.

"This is gonna be fun.."

He then shouted back to the man, "Don't worry, I've dealt with worse, I've got your back..."

I gotta get outta this place…if it’s the last thing I ever do thought Sonny as some ironic bit of a song floated through his mind. Problem is, I’m likely to get shot by stake-boy out there, bite by the freaks, or poke-er-ized by the criminal standing over the balcony there, and, I cant leave her here…she’ll most likely get killed, or raped, and I wont have that.

Sonny peaked over the top of the table, the crowd had formed a lose circle around the fight. The two contenders were standing there, staring each other down. The man spoke. Sonny couldn’t quite hear him over the techno, something about Vampires, a trap, and, be on the lookout, they’re on the move.

Screw them, I got nothing that can hurt them…I’m better off not to piss them off…I think ill just wait here, and protect her…do something noble for once in my life. But, if I see a break for her and I, we’re gone, and, shouldn’t those police outside be doing something about this…not to mention the other shootings that occupied tonight/

He continued to wait, he pistol steady at the end of the table

"Don't worry, I've dealt with worse, I've got your back..."
"Watch for anyone that seems to be irritated by this," Marcus said. "Of course I am sure everyone is irritated, but look for ones that are moving around, to get closer to me. The ones with black most likely, and sharp teeth."
He moved around in a circle, realizing that the group surrounded him, he aimed his gun at the crowd, people would move back as it passed them, he turned back to the whore.
"Now bitch," he said. "I think i have you under my power."

Sonny was jerked by a sudden thought…FUCK, the bartender, I gotta warn that criminal…man that felt weird”

Yelling as loud as he could

You! on the balcony, that bartender is a vampire, kill him!” he screamed.

"Will regular bullets affect them in any way?"

In fact, Popov probably had fought his way out of worse situations. He had escaped from prison in Northwestern Liang, stolen innumerable cars, valuables, and money from countless nations.

He had never fought vampires before, but according to him, anything will die if you put enough lead in it...

Popov's head jerked around as he heard someone shouting.

"Shit!"

He whirled around and lept over the bar, using his momentum to try and drive the stick straight into the bartender's chest...

Marcus turned around at the noise, and saw as the other man hurled for the bartender.
Shit he realized at his mistake of being distracted.
And he was right, a vampire from the crowd hurled onto him, and plowed him over onto the ground, he pressed the cross against the man's chest, and the vampire jumped off him in pain, landing on his feet the vampire looked at him and twisted its neck slightly, smirking an evil smile, sharp teeth showing.
"Son of a bitch, burn in hell," Marcus said as he lay on his back on the ground. He aimed his gun up, and fire, a stake flew through the air, and periced the vampire through the heart.
The vampire stumbled back a few steps, grabbing the stake its face grew worried, before its body faded away into a fog, and just disapeared.
"This can't be good," Marcus thought, the vampires would probably go into a frenzy and attack anything that isn't a vampire.

OOC: Before you say that the Vampire died, what kinda stakes are you shooting, and unless Marcus is a Catholic priest, then the corsses have no effect on vampires, nor do running water, or garlic...

IC:

The bartender was already a large man, and with his celerity, he easily out manuverd popov, and borke his hand with the stake. He then drove his fist at slightly more human then human speeds right at his face. The crowd situation, was another issue.

Marcu, to busy watching the female, never remeberd teh man behind him. After knocking down one vampire with a stake (it depends on the type of stake before you can say he is dead), he moved in, and drove his fist hard into Marcus's lower back, then kicked out his legs. The female drove her foot into his face, and then the crowd, non of which whom are vampires, moved in, thinking the man was a cop. "F*ckin pig," one man yelled, while driving his foot into his ribs. The crowd, non under the vampire's control, moved in on him with anger that he had disrupted their rave.

As Sonny tried to leave, he found himself face to face with two more vampires, both armed with .45s, pointing them right in his face. "You should really drop her," one hissed.

(OOC: He is an agent sent to clear the world of vampires so yeah of course he would have the necessary means, and the stakes are wooden stakes of which work on vampires, and also, Marcus is already laying on the ground)

OOC: Ok, then teh stakes will kill. Only if they are wood. But only those with true faith (Catholic preists) have any effect cross wise on Vampires, and even then, they are better off with a Crucifix than a cross. And the crowd still moves on him.

Popov flew back over the bar. He hit the ground and rolled back up on his feet. He ignored the searing pain in his hand and wiped the gushing blood off of his face. He then stared at the bartender and grinned...

"Finally, someone actually hit me..."

His eyes flashed with the fire of bloodlust. He shot the vampire a look that would make anyone think twice about attacking...

"Bring it on, bitch..."

"Shit," Marcus said in extreme pain as the crowd started to get violent with him.
He reached into his jacket, and pulled out a little sphere, he looked around and tossed it into the air, right as a vampire smashed his hand onto the ground with its foot.
The sphere flew five feet above everyone, and then it exploded, water was sent everywhere, raining on all the vampires.
"Holy water you sons of bitches," He mutter as they crushed his ribs and lungs and wrist.

OOC: BRB, gotta do the whole sober driver thing.

IC:

The Holy Water burned the Vampires, but didn't kill, adn they backed off. They were more than content to let the humans beat the piss out of the man for them. They walked away, looking at the bartender, then nodded. They made their way out the door and into the night.

The bartender chuckled, this human had no idea what he was getting into. The bartender moved with great speed and strength, and ducked to the Popov's right, delivering a hard hook.

Popov quickly slipped his revolver back into his coat and withdrew a short, wide curved knife. Assuming a fighting stance, he jumped to the left (I'm assuming it was a right hook.) and slashed downward with all of the strength remaining in his good hand...

If anyone had remained sane in the carnage, they might have noticed the ISA agents. As blood flew and guns fired, the crowd seathed, and some poor bastard flew from the balcony, there were spots of calm in the storm. Helms sipped her wine, recording from her briefcase sensor bank. Germish turned from his abandoned poker game, as one player had caught a .45 in the face, and began recording through his tactical glasses and from his hidden spectrometer.

Outside, Riven placed a fine cigarette in his mouth, slowly lighting it with contempt. He stepped to the side, languidly, as a body crashed past him. He scowled and turned to face the interior of the club, watching the riot play to the music. Several humans faced a wall of humans and vampires, and his agents, professional as always, recorded dutifully. He allowed his scanners to record for a few moments, placing his silver sunglasses on his face, watching the HUD activate.

They're probably dead, you know. Those people... they're doomed. But Riven simply toook a darg from his clove cigarette, letting the light flicker from his glasses. A bouncer charged back into the hall, and the agent calmly stepped in after him, leaning against the back wall, removed from the fighting. He flicked an acknowledging glance to his agents. Carry on.

He looked into the melee again. Plenty of data... carry on, indeed...

Moments later, from the melee, the dark-images in his tactical glasses seperated from the crowd, flowing out the door, past him, and into the night. One of them glared at him, and he smiled and couteously stepped from the path. Little did they know that his stylish silver "glasses" were recording their every data. They vanished, and Riven signalled to his team.

They began to slip from the room, as there was no need to observe mere human brawling. As they passed, Cassie Helms commented, "That ended early."

Riven nodded, calmly stating, "But plenty of data. That water was probably blessed, and note the classic weapons used. We can call it a night... but one last piece of business."

He looked up as a girl stumbled from the fight. Ragged and torn, she looked pale and drugged. Germish commented, "That's the one who got infused. You have the original sample?"

Riven smirked. "Of course. Do it." He tapped a button, and the silver car from earlier arrived almost instantly, the doors swinging open.

What happened next was a simple snatch and grab, a purely human trick the ISA dealt in. There was a chuff from Cassie's shirt, and the ghoulled girl toppled, a neurodart emerging from her neck. Germish threw the unconcious woman into the car, and the two agents boarded the vehicle. Riven stopped for one moment, to take one last breath of night air.

Somewhere out there, the night was alive, watching back, not with anger, but with interest. Riven faced the night, tipped his head in respect to these hunters, and slipped into the vehicle. It was gone in the same way it had come, vanishing into the night.

Data had been found. A subject was recovered. There would be no trace. The ISA Paranormal Division would continue their research, and the world would remain oblivious. For now... Riven thought, watching from the window of the car. But not forever.

As the other humans started kicking and beating him Marcus helped helpless, he had no desire to hurt other people. He looked at one and kicked the man backwards, which gave him just enough space to jump up.
Pulling his legs back and shooting them forward he jumped onto his feet and aimed the gun around at the crowd, they all formed another circle around him.
He wiped blood off his mouth.
"I have no need to harm you," He said.
He faced one side, but then turned around and charged the other side, he toppled down the group, he had a direct path towards the bar.
He saw the bartender, who's back was facing him, he aimed the gun, at the point on the back closest to the heart, and fired.

The bartender, seeing the blade, sidesteped and turned to his right, sideways. The blade missed him by an inch, snipping the end of his tie. However, the true fear was the stake, which slid past him, the wood missing his face by less than an inch.

He turned, and looked at Marcus, then nodded. A bouncer, ghoulled by one of the clans, came out, and opened fire on Marcus with a.45

Marcus turned as he heard gunfire, popping off a blind shot before a bullet hit his arm, he spun slightly and hit the ground, then kicked over a table and his behind it for cover, he held his arm as blood gushed out.

Popov, seeing that he missed, dove to the ground and rolled some distance. Leaping back onto his feet, he dropped the knife and in one smooth motion pulled out his huge revolver. He twisted to the side and took aim at the bouncer's chest, then he fired off all 6 shots...

The bouncer took all six slugs, and flew back, hitting the ground hard. He rolled to his side, coughed and then, in a rather pained looking fasion, forced himself up. He picked up the .45 that he had dropped, slammed in a new mag, and re opened fire, this time on Popov.

Popov nearly was caught by the rounds fired by the bouncer. He hadn't ever seen anything that had gotten up after taking 6 rounds from his Revolver. He dived behind the bar, catching a few splinters of wood in his arm. He reloaded his gun with the quickloader and clutched his arm. Blood was squirting through his fingers.

Popov grimaced, "What the hell..."

Now, Popov obviously wasn't a religious man. Most religions had condemned him to eternal damnation. He began to quietly mumble the Lord's Prayer. He reached into his pocket and fumbled with the small crucifix necklace that his parents had given him many years ago...

He then had an idea...

He grabbed a bottle of vodka and a rag that the bartender had under the bar. He doused the rag and pulled out his lighter. He stuffed the rag in the bottle and lit it. He quickly popped up and hurled the bottle at the bartender with all of his strength.

The vodka bottle missed the bartender, but its flamming rag tourched his shirt. He jumped over the bar, and began to roll around to put out the flames. The bottle exploded by a group of people, taking most of them out. At this point,t he bouncer, an obvious brujah, lept forward, cleared the bar, and came towards Popov, fangs bared.

OOC: What's a brujah?

Popov fired off another six shots towards the bouncer. Once the shots were fired, he dropped the revolver and rushed towards the bouncer with his good hand outstretched, holding the small crucifix out...

OOC: The brujah (as well as Ventru, Malkav, Gangrel, Toreador, Tremere and Nausferatu) are just a clan of Vampires in the Camerilla sect...I can give you a website so you can learn more about the different clans.

IC:

The bouncer fell back, but again, stood up and shrugged off the bullets. He chuckled as Popov came up with the crucifix, as the old legends of crosses and crucifixs killing vampires was one of the greatest lies propegated by vampires. He sidestepped Popov, grabbing his wrist, and snapping it away, not to break his wrist, but to use his strength, as well as Popovs momentum, to fling him away.

The explosion from behind the car made the mirrors flare. Germish raised his view in the back seat, and Helms turned to aim her pistol towards the back window, thinking someone had followed and thrown a grenade. Riven scowled in the passenger's seat. "Molotov." he stated, recognizing the particular jangle of glass and the roar of an alcohol fire.

Helms looked to him, "Sir, should we attempt to save those people? There were other vamps in there-"

Germish spoke up, "And get our evidence incinerated by some numbskull with too much quick reacting and not enough quick thinking? We should take our evidence, and our guest-" he palm slapped the unconcious woman between the agents "- and RTB."

The driver simply kept the vehicle rolling. Riven raised an eyebrow. "The police in this area sure are slow to respond. I wonder how much has to burn down before they react." He removed his recording holodisk, passed it to Germish. "Give me the Pain Beamer, the Needlers, and your ammo." He checked his Inferno Pistol, then the barrel assembly on the Needler PDW. From the back seat, an energy carbine was passed to the front, followed by two more N.01s and a set of barrels, as well as a pile of clips. Riven tucked the Needlers into his waistband, secured his own opposite the Inferno Pistol under his suit coat, and grabbed the carbine. He checked the occluded sight, and exhaled heavily. "There was a friendly agent back there, one I think our ally would be glad to have back." he tapped his silver glasses. "I just got the ID from command. Apparently, some Transnapastaini DEA agent just shat in the pie that shits back."

Germish exclaimed, "Sir, you can't be serious-"

"Just take the data and the girl, get the hell out of dodge. I'll grab our ally and run for the border. I don't intend to break any laws along the way." He shrugged with the carbine in his hands. "I'm just prepared for anything." To the driver, "Stop the car, don't wait for me if things go bad."

The car paused, and Riven stepped out, closing the door behind him. He let the Pain Beamer Carbine fall onto its sling, mostly concealed, and he walked back towards the gunfire. Behind him, the car vanished, and the lone man walked back towards the chaos.

OOC: The Pain Beamer is a less than lethal device used by Riot Control Special Police (Espos) in Kaukolastan, and sold to nations with low gun regulations. It uses a high-charge superconducting coil to power a short range (100m) beam of high enery UV rays and microwave pulses. It can cause third degree burns if held on a target too long, or boil organs, but used correctly (pulses), it simply causes a massive burning sensation, intense pain, temporary paralysis, migraines, and really bad "sunburn". It's designed to neutralize without killing, but I don't know WHAT kind of effect it would have on the Vamps, as is basically is a "sunlight" DEW (directed energy weapon). Meh, not trying to wank, this is based on real US research, if micro-sized.

Any questions, AIM me.

Yeah, can I have that website? Can you tell me what does and doesn't kill these things.

IC:

Popov felt the rather unpleasant sensation of flying through the air. He shifted and fell legs first onto the ground, collapsing as he impacted. His head smacked on the ground and blacked out...

A few seconds later...

He sat up and shook his head. It felt as if his entire body was throbbing. He picked himself up and pulled out his remaining revolver. He began to make his way along the wall towards the exit. He had some stuff in his car that should get rid of these vampires once and for all...

OOC: Wooden stakes, Crucifix held by a Catholic priest true in his faith, fire (direct) and pure, direct sunlight, not UV rays (that sun gun will hurt, but not kill)....and cutting of thier heads. The website is...let me look it up then I'll hit ya with it.

IC:

The bouncer let Popov go, and then went to pull the fire alarm. He was loosing money by not having people raving.

At this time, the sound of several squad cars comming to a stop could be heard. Men jumped out, covered head to toe in SWAT gear, armed with UMAC made CAR-21s (similar to a TAR-21). One looked at Popov, and nodded. "Whats goin on in there?"

Popov wiped the sweat and blood from his brow. He raised his hand and pointed towards the bouncer.

"That... damn... guy... is... a... goddamn... vampire..."

After taking a few seconds to breathe and wipe more blood from his face.

"He attacked one of the other people... and I shot him... 6 times with this..."

He held up his remaining revolver.

"Don't turn your back to him, go check, you'll see the wounds..."

The SWAT officer stopped in his tracks. "Vampires? That aint us. Hey Mike, get in touch with the Church, its their field." He turned, and looked at Popov. "Id recomend gettin outa here buddy, nothing brings these bad boys down. You know what happened? Normaly we leave them alone and they leave us alone?"

Popov grinned, "Do you guys have a doctor. Give me some morphine or something and I'll be back in the fight..."

Riven stopped at the corner, hearing the sounds of sirens. Behind his silver glasses and sensor array, his eyes narrowed, and his mouth ticked up in the corner. So, the police aren't completely inept. He walked past the corner, standing near another nightclub. As he glanced over to the police and the criminal, the laser mic registered the vibrations from the conversation by bouncing from a nearby window.

The criminal stated, "That... damn... guy... is... a... goddamn... vampire... He attacked one of the other people... and I shot him... 6 times with this..." he held up a massive revolver, probably a .44, judging by the fact that it still had a full six rounds in the cylinder. The criminal continued, "Don't turn your back to him, go check, you'll see the wounds..."

The officer replied, "Vampires? That ain't us. Hey, Mike, get in touch with the Church, it's their field. I'd recommend gettin' outta here buddy, nothing brings these bad boys down. You know what happened? Normally we leave them alone and they leave us alone."

The criminal asked, "Do you guys have a doctor? Give me some morphine or something and I'll be back in the fight..."

At this, Riven walked away, stepping into the alley behind the bar. So, the locals know about the vamps, they just have a nonagression pact. And, that criminal just asked the cops for permission to go shoot people. What's in the water around here? He grinned. Crystal meth, probably.

Fortunately for Riven, the SWAT team was preoccupied with the front, and he climbed in through a back window, into a storage area.

The storage area was a simple broom closet, with a few boxes of toilet paper, and a couple of mops, and a door.

Teh SWAT officer appearantly named Mike waved Popov over. "Five years in the WRITE as a medic. I'll fix ya up fine." He motioned for Popov to sit on the back of the sqaud car, and the medic pulled out a kit, and bandaged him up. "If it was my call, I wouldn't let ya back in, but the guys from the sword should be here soon. Christ, theres gonna be hell to pay come the next cross meeting. We try to keep things stable between us and them." He bandaged up the wounds, and, offering Popov a towl to bite down on, reset is wrist.

"Bones not broken, just dislocated. That should help. Oh, you might like this too," he said, pulling out a syringe. "Its like morphine, totally kills the pain, but it isn't an opiate, so it doesnt mess with your reaction times and senses." He injected him withit, the medicine kicking in right away, then handed him another syringe. "Just in case."

He then reached into the squad car, and pulled out a tactical shotgun. "UMAC 870. This bad boy oughta pin them down a bit longer 'for they get back up." He tossed Popov teh shotgun. "Have fun, backup is on its way."

Riven secured the closet, despite the fact that the only opponent was a dust mop that attempted to fall on him. He placed the treacherous janitorial tool back in its wall slot with one gloved hand, being careful not to make a noise. He faced the door, and used a rapid eye flick to toggle the tactical glasses into thermal mode. The other side was clear, with figures moving in the room rapidly, and a fire burning a small distance away. With a thought, he flicked his eyes again, and a sound sensor activated, like passive sonar, detecting motion. Sure enough, there was movement in the bar that was not on the thermal scopes. However, it was mostly focused on a man behind a table, and the sound of a loading clip. That would be that Anti-Vamp agent that waltzed in.

Riven reviewed his laser-HUD one last time, and then slipped out the door, into the bar. There was carnage in the room, with several ravers still attempting to carry on their party amid the fire and bodies. Most likely so doped they don't even realize. Imitating their stances, he walked blatantly through the room, stopping to dance with several other ravers, as though oblivious. But always, he moved towards another flipped table, and the two figures crouched behind it, observing through thermal vision.

Stepping nonchalantly up to the table, he inquired in a stoned out voice, “Yo, dude and dudette, ya wanna partay?” He stared at them, and inside his glasses, the HUD displayed the OIS officer’s image to him, matching with the man behind the table.

Without warning, his smile and loose stance faded into rigid posture and a perpetual scowl. “Sonny Harris, I presume.” He smirked. “And companion. I do believe that this is exfiltration time.” He moved slightly, allowing Harris to see inside of his suit coat, to the brace of Needlers, and the slight glimmer of a personalized tie clip, embossed upon it was the Imperial Eagle clutching a sword in miniature… perhaps just a keepsake, but to those who knew the game, it was an ISA Operations dress clip.

The man stared back at him, and Riven hauled him to his feet. The girl stared, and then was also yanked up, albeit gently. “Dance.” Riven hissed, and began to move about like another drugged raver, moving towards his closet. Approaching it again, he heard the clang of a fire alarm, and the sprinklers activated. He inched the door open a crack, and shoved the girl through, pitching her out the window headfirst. She yelped, and he shoved Harris after…

With the motion, the fire alarm, and the facts of Murphy’s Law, someone noticed the three entering the closet. “Hey!” someone called out.

At once, three events occured. The door to the bar was kicked in. The water began to spray. Riven turned and dove through the window, diving and rolling into the street. He popped to his feet, swinging the carbine to the window, in case something followed. No cops, thank God, we don’t have to play stupid hostage-escaping-bad-people. “Move!” he hissed again. “We have an evac route.”