Club SadistFaction | Gone, but not forgotten baby! ~

herp

derp	100.0%	[ 105 ]
Total Votes:			[ 105 ]

[Detective Bigby Wolf]

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"b***h Please.

You couldn't handle my rates"

And with that, he went back to eatting, the guys fighting in the Pit, alcohol flowing freely and blood being spilt.

It was, as they say, A Hael of a Good Time.

"That isn't very nice," Bigby growled ominously as he walked around Hayl, flinty amber eyes regarding the massive suit of power armor speculatively. When you work in Sigil as a private investigator, you come across all kinds of interesting things, not the least of which being power armor. This model looked particularly heavy, the most common denominator half-a-ton. Bigby couldn't place it's scent exactly, but he was reminded of plasteel, ceramic, neural-impulse fibers and heresy. He found it gaudy and impractical; but then again, it afforded it's wearer enough strength and endurance that impracticality was nothing more than an obstacle to smash through.

All the same, Bigby didn't like the a*****e's attitude, and no one called the wolf a b***h without some repercussions and collateral damage. If Hayl wanted a go, him and his hundred toadies found one. Left flank facing Hayl, Bigby lifted his left leg and brought it down sharply on a back leg of Hayl's stool, breaking wood/bending metal with a snap/grate, hopefully dislodging the man and sending his armored backside to the floor. These models were always built with sensors, though; armor-locks, total-tension-snaps of the muscle fiber filaments, things like that. Frank be told, he just wanted Hayl to round on him to show the ninker what-for with some bloody knuckles.

It was the second-best way to tell Bravot someone was looking for him.

[count_zantara]

OutlawD One

ImNoHero

BrokenDollEyes

Detective Bigby Wolf

PK Lady Sonia Renegade

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Viice

Mooks in Power Armor

"I wouldn't dream of taking it off Drew. You ********' cheat, you b***h."

Hayl replied as he admired out of the corner of his eye as the fighter packed his bowl and took a long hit. Breathing in through his nose, Hayl wished he could take a hit.

Alas, the Library had some s**t a** policy against certain substances. Steroids, stimulants and alcohol were great as all get outs. He even paid their tab. But Hypnotics were on the long-term banned list at least for his fighters.....didn't mean the boss didn't toke his own s**t ever so often.

Hypocritical ********.

Finishing off the last bit of his orange chicken, Hayl felt more than saw Bigby make his move. With a slight locking of his knee joints at the obvious action you did to piss off a guy at a bar, the Captain just stayed there in that position, resting vaguely uncomfortably as the chair slammed out from under him.

The MouthBreather has some strength, that was for sure.

These chairs were specially designed to take weight such as his and to be bent with such a off-the-cuff kick like that was....impressive.

Holding with one hand on the underlip of the bar counter, Hayl brought the 44 ounce cheerwine cup up to his lips and took a long sip through the straw before saying.

"And you ruined my chair. Quit being a b***h and get out. I don't talk to the Clergy, I don't talk to the press, I don't talk to the UWP and I sure as ******** don't talk to no good two bit punks who come in like they own the joint.

Like I said....you can't afford my rates."

Looking in the mirror behind the Bar, Hayl smiled slightly as a good quarter of his men had pulled out their Bolt Pistols, two Auto Cannons, a couple of Meltaguns and three plasma pistols all aimmed at the Mouth-Breather, his men covering the entire area of the bar from a good twenty feet away in a all encompassing arc around the room, leaving Drew, Hayl Sonia, the bartending chick and the Mouthbreather all in the crosshairs.

No, these guys weren't no ******** Space Marines or any of that s**t.

No where near that size.

But within seconds they could blow a hole so big in the bar that they'd be scrapping pieces of Bigby off the wall for the next week

And they were obviously perfectly willing to take out the entire staff if that was needed.

With a grunt, Hayl came to his feet and stood there, sipping on his drink, still not turning around.

[BrokenDollEyes]

Slowly eyes blinked at the sound of something slamming into the ground. She hadn't paid much attention to the men around the bar. Barely even noticed the white collar coming back down the stairs. What she did notice was the broken stool, and the scent of spiked testosterone. Those trained orbs turned back to the male in power armor that was talking to Drew. Then to the white collar male.

It didn't take long for his men to come to attention weapons at the ready.The crappy part about the whole thing was this. If s**t went south then her pretty a** asking with a few others were in the cross hairs. Shoulders tensed up at the realization of what was our what could occur. It would only take one wrong move from the brute. Hell. Picking up the beer once more the stand in bar tender tipped it back. Swallowing it's contents in one gulp. The sound off glass breaking in the nearest trash can was simple music to the ears.The clatter and clank on glass on glass.

Hand shoved back into the ice down the chill causing goose flesh to appear up the four arm while fingers wrapped around another bottle neck. If fitting was on the menu tonight then she would go out buzzed!

[YummyBiscuits]

OutlawD One

ImNoHero

BrokenDollEyes

Detective Bigby Wolf

PK Lady Sonia Renegade

count_zantara

Viice

Drew took in a sharp breath when Bigby did his piece. Not the smartest thing to try taking on a little less than a hundred armored men with solid weaponry. It really wasn't smart to pull that kinda s**t in this bar. He went and ******** up a chair, and the guy looked like he didn't have the coin on him to pay it off right then, getting free drinks and looking all rough around the edges this guy was. Drew wasn't going to have it, no ******** way. On top of it, there were a s**t load of guys pointing god knows what his direction, and if they had a chance to fire, he'd be caught in the wayside. Even if they couldn't his the broadside of a barn, even the Brit couldn't survive that s**t, so he knew it was his s**t to handle, his s**t to beat down, and his problem.

There was a blow out of smoke, he set the pipe down on the counter gently, and breathed in that sweet smoke again. It was hard on his lungs, and already, his blood was pumping. He wasn't thinking, he was moving. Up on the bar, stepping across Hayl's arm, Drew took a jumping tackle for Bigby. If the guy wasn't quick enough, Drew would be on top of him, and a heartbeat later, punching what that chair and his general dislike out of this guy's face, neck, and upper chest.

He punched like a ******** jackhammer.

(Clarification: Drew has the ability to lift over 1,250lbs. This strength can be translated into his punching power, albeit held back to be nonlethal.)

While Drew teed off, if he was able to, the skin on his left arm would slowly peel back, revealing that the arm was more than it seemed. Underneath the skinsheathe, there was a metal arm by far harder than his normal fist.

Whatever Drew had smoked, it was driving him wild. If Bigby had evaded him, Drew would roll forwards, and turn immediately, springing from the balls of his feet and go straight for Bigby's knees.

[Vxce]

b***h.....handle....rates....

isn't....nice...

Clergy....punks....joint...

She's lifting her head from the table, her vision splotchy as she blinks her way into sobriety.

Like I said...you can't afford my rates.

There's a plume of smoke, something heady and noxious and enticing, and she hears the soft clink of the pipe connecting with the bartop.

The mans hand is lifting away from it and it's left alone while he, with bravado, dives into some other man who has somehow offended him. She stares through the smoke with bloodshot eyes, stares across the surface of the bar, her chin resting level with the pipe. Guns have been drawn, and in no time shots will surely be fired. She breaths deep through her nose.

"There's no ******** way I'm dying sober."

She's saying this to nobody and to everybody as she crawls up onto the bar, pushing aside bottles and cans and highball glasses with her bandaged fists in pursuit of the smoldering pipe. She acknowledges the bartender with a distant, loose grin as she crawls by, and when she reaches the pipe full of what she hopes to be some sort of glorified souped-up ganja, she scoops it up, sits her butt down Indian style on the bar, and flicks her zippo open with a snap.

With zero consideration towards it's owner, she takes a huge hit.

Reference

Edit: I somehow managed to post this with the wrong reference picture. emotion_facepalm Fixed.

[BrokenDollEyes]

There was a slow grin crawling its way across the face of the bartender watching this chick crawl by. There would be no blame. Hell couldn't blame any off them for wanting to die in a haze of glorified splendor! Watching with a half of a heart bottle of ice cold beer posed top her lips.body laying half on top of the bar counter. Watching with glazed eyes, mixture from the second hand smoke and alcohol.

"Want something else dear?"

The question was called towards the puffing chick, couldn't blame her for the bigger inhale of what ever was in the pipe. The smoke tingle her nose as she inhaled it was going to happen thanks to the closeness.

Another swoop the beer three fourths of the way gone, mind hazy. A good feeling while glancing at Drew. ******** when had he started a fight with the big guy? Front row seats! Always the best!

Viice

YummyBiscuits

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[Detective Bigby Wolf]

YummyBiscuits

"What is this a*****e doing?" Bigby asked no one in particular as he watched Drew climb onto the bar and walk across the top. Hayl was forgotten for the moment as the attention whore whore'd for attention, Bigby giving him the benefit of it until the man decided to leap over Hayl for a flying tackle. At that point, Bigby grew incredulous. Of all the half-witted, ill-thought out schemes he had seen dimwits try to pull off, this one was by far the most theatrical. While Hayl called him a b***h a second time, riling up the wolf-in-human's-skin, Bigby tensed up and raised his hands, timing his instep into Drew's flying tackle.

Drew hit Bigby, sure enough. By all that was insane and magical in Sigil, the Meta crashed into him hard, but Bigby's right arm was already snaking around the back of Drew's neck and crooking beneath his chin to put his head beneath Bigby's armpit. The two flew back through force of inertia, but Bigby controlled their descent to the floor, tilting and guiding Drew's face towards the ground where he would hopefully bust his fresh stitches open and crack some teeth. Once Bigby's curled back touched the bar floor and absorbed the impact so that he might not have the wind knocked out of him, he spread his legs and wrapped them around Drew's lower-core, squeezing tight while he cinched his arm around Drew's throat and pulled, hopefully putting the Meta into a choke.

"Wasting my ********' time," Bigby growled, aware of the guns drawn on him, pissed beyond reconciliation.

[YummyBiscuits]

YummyBiscuits

Drew'd hardly noticed the arm snaking across the back of his neck. There was an instinctual reaction in locking one' snack against the top of their throat, even as they flew through the air and land gruffly on the hard blood-stained floor. He also hardly paid attention to the crunch as his nose bent, snapping, and fresh blood poured out. He did notice the legs around his sides though.

Drew was down, on top of the guy for the time being. There wasn't much he could do in a situation like this, and all he knew was that he couldn't really move a whole lot. There was a damn pressure against his chin and throat though, and that was irritating. He was already crazed, and this position wasn't helping much. He was left with the guy 's wide open sides. Even from a bent position like this, punching more sideways than front-like, Drew would dish out some punishment.

His arm, the left one, reacted to his desire. He didn't provide a solid willed order, however, the metal arm seemed to react of it's own accord. The skin covering his knuckles split, revealing a series of sharp rivets styled in the manner of a knuckle duster.

With his body being worked on, Drew would reply in kind, and start throwing wild punches for Bigby's ribs and liver.

[OutlawD One]

ImNoHero

"***** - ********- you."

Saint's head lifted in a dreary manner and turned to face Bishop. After his words his head would plop back down and hang low, as he listened to the commotion downstairs.

"You could always just not touch the s**t I brought back and find your own group of hungry Krogans to fight."

Saint knew damn well what the answer would be to his statement. Releasing a yawn, the meta forced himself up and walked to an open window.

"Sounds like you're about to miss all the fun downstairs Bishop….Don't touch the case on the right. They're all locked with a system that will destroy the s**t inside, but I grabbed the key from a body."

Reaching into his right pocket, Saint removed a small remote style object from it, and pressed a solid green button on top. The left case would release a pressure of air, and a series of red lights would turn green.

[Detective Bigby Wolf]

YummyBiscuits

Grunting in pain, Bigby shifted his body weight and rolled to the right, controlling Drew via legs wrapped around the man's core to force the man's left shoulder into the floor, thereby removing any and all leverage the man possessed to swing his left fist into the detective's side. The cinch around Drew's neck grew tighter in response to the man's punchy ways, muscles flexing and wrist tightening to ply excessive force to the man's jugular and esophagus, depriving Drew vital blood flow and oxygen to his brain. Bigby seemed unconcerned, tugging down on Drew's hips in tandem with the choke hold to apply more pressure still, Drew perhaps feeling as if the wolf-in-human's-skin was about the idea of ripping his head off.

"********' a*****e," Bigby growled under his breath, now snaking his left arm beneath Drew's right in case the man had more ideas concerning punching, hooking up beneath the armpit and reaching over to clasp the wrist of his opposite arm hooked around Drew's throat, tugging to apply more pressure still. "Hey!" Bigby called out, wiggling on his back as he tried to choke the vitality out of Drew for his own good, "I'm not done with you yet! As soon as I'm done with this a*****e, you and I are going to have a talk." It was obvious he was talking to the mook in power armor.

[count_zantara]

OutlawD One

ImNoHero

BrokenDollEyes

Detective Bigby Wolf

PK Lady Sonia Renegade

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Viice

Mooks in Power Armor

As Drew flew over his shoulder to tackle the Mouth-Breather Bigby, Hayl was in a predicament of sorts. First, Drew was his Main Bro....and when Drew started something he had problems with people sticking their nose in. He started it, he finished it. But...it was Hayls problem. The Mouth-breather started s**t with him and Hayl was of the same mindset of Drew.

Drew stole his fight. But Drew was his Bro.

********' A man.

That wasn't cool.

He was having to think on s**t while he was drinking. God damn it all.

Turning around as his men took three steps back to keep the same distance between them all, Hayl took the bolt pistol from his hip and set it on single shot, his drink still in his hand. Taking a deep sigh as the crazy bartender started to pound them back and the even crazier drunk girl came up and stole drew's bowl, this whole party was getting out of hand.

Oh man, now he knew how Bravot always felt.

This was bitchin' weird man....bitchin' weird.

"No....I really don't think we will."

And with that, Hayl took two steps forward and placed his size thirty right boot on Bigby's left calf as the two men were flopping around on the ground. Pinning it there for a split second with his 500 pounds of pressure put onto a single place, Hayl dropped down to his left knee, placed the barrel of his bolt pistol a inch above Bibgy's ankle and fired one shot into it, the .75 caliber round hopefully blowing the bone into smithereens and finishing this argument before it got into much trouble. He could handle the trouble from the UWP and Bravot and whoever else might come along.


And covering for Drew was no big deal. But this guy just maybe, possibly, might have some connections that Hayls boss might want not pissed off.....maybe.

So better safe than sorry.

Why the hell did he have to be the responsible one around here????

[YummyBiscuits]

Detective Bigby Wolf

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Drew's first reaction to being turned over was to squeeze down with his chin. It alleviated the pressure only so much, but that little bit would be important. His free hand, the right one, would wiggle for Bigby's side, forcing it's way out of the man's attempt to hold it down right around the time he began it. With no further ado, Drew grabbed a full chunk of the guy's side, right under the ribs, and pressed down had with his thumb. He'd attempt to squeeze Bigby's kidney until he loosened the hold on his neck.

Only, Hayl came out of nowhere, and did his bit, leaving Drew two options.

OPTION A
If Bigby had gotten shot in the ankle, he'd sure as s**t let go of Drew's neck. Probably try to push the heavy, drugged up British guy on top of him off, too. But Drew was in a position where his drugged mind wouldn't understand that this guy had been seriously injured; rather, he'd use the moment to begin teeing off on Bigby's face like he had intended in the first place.

Someone would have to pull Drew off of him.

OPTION B
If the shot to the ankle had somehow been evaded, Drew'd still be in the ride of the long run, tugging away and chugging away. His grip on Bigby's kidney wouldn't relent, even as his face started turning a bright red.

[Not Roen]

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BrokenDollEyes

Neutrality was a luxury few could afford; and an illusion fewer still realized. It was something he had practiced since observing the SadistFaction's little altercation between a too-nosey-for-his-own-good Lycanthrope and, well, just about everyone he came into contact with. Roen sat in a booth alittle ways off, drinking a cranberry juice as was his wont to do while idly fingering the sharpened pommel of Hræðilegr, his dread-black sword. It was an ugly slab of sharpened metal, his pig-sticker, Gothic in appearance and morbid by virtue. The many force-attuned gems set in the sockets of the daemon faces wrought into the elaborate guard and hilt glowed with a malevolence both unnatural and alarming, while the blade itself was more smokey gray than the black most attributed to it before the light left their eyes.

The club had no need to fear the Force Sword nor it's wielder, though. The Outsider again was a keen observer of the illusion of neutrality, and had no love for dogs and wolves, so had no cause to aid either. His only concern happened to be the mooks in power armor and their weapons, all of which drawn and trained on the brawl that erupted. There was something unsettling about an army wielding what were essentially rapid-fire rocket launchers en masse. Sighing through his nose, the fiend flexed his will and set his glass of cranberry juice down, paying little and less heed to the frost-blooms that touched the glass and liquid as he reached out with his mind to put a stop to excessive force.

Hayl pulled the trigger, and like the Chosen One of eld lore, Roen suspended the bolt's trajectory within the muzzle. The Outsider rolled his shoulders to dissuade a buildup of tension in his neck and went back to his drink, sighing unhappily to find it frozen in the tumbler. He raised a hand and waved to the bartender, hoping that maybe, maybe she would come over and take an order. Let the brawl continue, there'd be Hell to pay and a Devil's Due to consider if bolt rounds started tearing up the place.

"More cranberry juice, please," the fiend smiled, his handsome face lighting up.

[BrokenDollEyes]

The slight wave caught the bartenders attention, taking note of the male far off from the chaos. Couldn't blame the chap. Hell with trained guns in every direction it was amazing no one fired a...

The thunderous sound of a trigger being fired echoed in her ears, causing a horrible ringing to occur. Placing the beer back down on the counter with a harsh thud then needed. Moving off to the side she looked towards the male as he spoke his order. Thankfully the ringing wasn't impeding her hearing too bad. A Cranberry. Got it.

Pulling a tumbler down she set to work on the drink, considering it wasn't that big of an order she had it done quickly. Moving from her cozy little spot she walked the drink over to him. Weaving herself past the men in power armor. Squeezing herself against them considering they weren't in the mood to budge.

"Here you are"

She spoke with a cat at the canary grin of hers.

[Crappy post]

[count_zantara]

BrokenDollEyes

((You are now known as Tinker Bell in Tonros head.

Let the hate flow through you.))