[u]Skeleton and Damian[/u] Damian continued to twirl the blade, intentionally ignorant of the blind woman's threat, until Caden decided to speak. Damian rolled his eyes and sheathed the knife in an inside pocket of his vest; why the Hell did Skeleton ever let that creep speak? He sat back down, now beginning to grow disinterested, and grabbed a beer rather aggressively from the counter. He hated being shut down. "My vote's for suicidally overconfident," he said to Reiko "But whatever. I'll let take care of this one." Skeleton stood his ground, his arms still crossed and his pokerface hidden by his mask. [i]Woman talks too much for my taste.[/i] He thought, cracking his neck. He looked around the bar and people's eyes darted downwards to avoid his glare, as if looking him in the eyes were a challenge. Most Skulls these days were far too cowardly for Skeleton's taste. If this new girl had anything, she had guts, and Skeleton liked that. He was silent for a few moments, and then gestured for Reiko to come over. She would be his best bet for this test. "Alright," Skeleton said "You've caught my attention. You've got balls, I'll give you that, but it takes more than balls to be a Skull; you need to be able to kick some ass too. So here's what I'm going to do; I'm going to give you a combat test, same as I give to every other Skull who joins." This was partially a lie, as the "test" to get into the Skulls was usually against an unwitting police officer, but he wanted to see how tough she was. "So you and my associate Reiko here," he gestured to Reiko "Are going to have a little sparring match outside in the street. Pin Reiko for three seconds, and you're in. Fail, and I kick your ass from here to New Orleans. How's that sound to you?" Back at the bar, Damian rolled his eyes and walked over to stand next to Grease, beer in hand. "And now Skeleton uses Reiko as a punching bag once more." he said quietly. [u]Emilio, Whisper, and Titus[/u] As Rabbit descended further into drunken confusion, Emilio lost interest in her. He could speak to a drunk any time just by crossing the bridge. She wasn’t that interesting, anyways; anyone who insulted Jack Johnson was not on Emilio’s friend list. Emilio turned towards the heavyset woman approaching him and looked down at the car reproachfully. He took it and, turning it in his hand, looked back up at her with a quizzical look on his face. "Yeah, sure." he said "I'll give it to her." Whisper watched as Samson took off from the top of the building, and turned away, her mind now at rest. Samson was a good man, one of her favorite men, and she trusted that he would get the job done. She sat back down at her seat and, noticing that there was a mozzarella stick missing, cast a quizzical glare at Emilio from the corner of her eye. Some could even say she started to smile. She took another drink and gazed towards the end of the semicircular bar counter where the mechanic was flirting with an attractive blonde girl. [i]Good for him[/i], she thought. She didn't know the mechanic very well, but she had heard from some of the other members that he was a bit of a romantic. The less boys she had after herself, the better. She knew that Emilio liked her, even though he was decent at hiding it, and she had seen Johnny staring at her erroneous zones a few times. She hated this because she knew that the Vanguard boys didn't like her for her personality or her appearance, but for her authority. They were in love with her political power, and if any other girl had it, they would be flocking to her instead. Emilio slid Whisper the card. “Some chick gave this to me.” he said “Something about detectives. Whisper read it carefully and then, taking out a wallet, stuffed it into a card slot and replaced it in an inside pocket of her jacket. She opened her mouth to speak, but then stopped and took another drink. The place was beginning to get boring when out of the corner of her eye she saw an extraordinarily large man sitting across from Cassidy Lynn. [youtube]ih56lpzMcdo[/youtube] Titus sat rather confused, his eyes darting between the cards in Cassidy’s hands and the ring at the bottom of the bottle. [i]How..what...where did she…[/i] His brain hurt. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but no sound came out. His grip intensified on the table, causing hairline cracks to spread across the glass. “Um…” he muttered, remembering that he had to answer her. His mouth hung agape for a few moments, and then he closed it. He looked up, and his eyes widened. She was staring right at him. Whisper was standing now. Her left hand slowly slid up her jacket and stopped where the sheath of her knife was. It was a footlong wakizashi made of Japanese steel. She unzipped her jacket as if she had practiced the movement many times before, and grabbed the handle of the blade with her right hand. She elbowed Emilio in the shoulder, and he spun around in his bar stool. Before his mouth could open, his serpentlike eyes narrowed on Titus through his sunglasses. “Son of a bitch.” Emilio muttered “I thought I shoved his steroid-laden ass in the river three months ago.” “Well apparently you didn’t do a very good job.” Whisper said, the first time she spoke since entering the bar. She nodded to the bartender, and, grimacing, he retreated through a door and into the kitchen, hoping to stay out of trouble. The others followed suit. One reached for their phone to dial 911, but a venomous glance from Emilio stopped her mid-dial. She placed the phone on the bar counter and shuffled out of the room. “Let’s fix that. Rabbit! Nick! We have a job to do.” Titus rose from his seat, realizing that he was now in a considerable amount of trouble. He looked around; no Skulls in the restaurant and no one to help him. Emilio turned to the rest of the bar, which had gone deathly quiet with the vanishing of the staff, and they snapped to attention. “Sorry for the disturbance, everyone, but for your own safety and the safety of others we’re going to have to ask you to leave the restaurant.” This sentence had obviously been practiced by Emilio many times before. As the crowd moved, Titus rose from his seat and went to turn around, where he found Whisper staring him in the eyes, knife drawn. His eyes widened and he grabbed the table by the sides. He swung it through the air at Whisper, not caring that he probably splattered Cassidy’s brains across the wall, and threw it at the bar counter. Emilio jumped up and grabbed it midair to keep the table from smashing the liquor shelves. “Let’s try not to rough the place up too much.” he said to the other Vanguard members “I haven’t finished my beer yet and I want to come back for the next World Series game.” [u]Ivan and Toby[/u] “Oh shit.” Ivan cursed upon hearing the news. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the waitress walked over and sat the plates of food in front of them. He mentally did a check of the arsenal at his house; yes, the AK-74 was under the bed, and its magazine was in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. The .44 was in the living room under one of the sofa cushions. The knife was...where was the knife again? While Ivan looked down at the counter nervously, Dr.Wright extended a tentacled hand to Baron. “Doctor Tobias Wright.” he said “Professor of genetics at Mendel University and Ivan’s co-worker.” The waitress looked over at Baron. “Anything I can getcha, hun?” she asked. --- Outside, it had begun to rain. Tara was about a block and a half away when she looked up and saw that she was being followed. [i]God dammit[/i] She said to herself [i] How am I still employed?[/i] She quickly dismounted the building she was on and fell down four stories into an alleyway. A glow of yellow light cushioned her fall. She ran out into the crowd, attempting to hide amongst the stragglers, always heading towards the parking garage where she kept her Harley. If she could get there, she could easily escape and get back home in enough time to get backup.