Fisherman's Hook

[scribblerrigby]

The handful of boys at a nearby table – Malcolm Finley among them – had been doing their best to ignore the altercation. And as far as Finley was concerned, they had been doing a pretty good job. He had been slamming Jeff’s steady supply of beer, red bull and vodka, and occasionally slipping in small packets of blood he had snuck in for the occasion (hopefully nobody would notice the color), while the rest of the boys had split an appetizer sampler. They spent the night joking, chowing down, and making eyes at the two women at the bar. One of the ladies had even looked at them. Maybe even at him. Score.

Needless to say, Fin had been feeling pretty good until the drunken man wandered near the table. And then Finley’s brain exploded.

The man’s blood pounded, loud and thick, in Finley’s head, drowning out the smells, sounds, feelings of the rest of the patrons. This guy was really riled up! Suddenly, Finley was painfully aware of how much his red bull/vodka/blood mix didn’t hit the spot. The man shouted, and Fin heard the surprised jump and increase – and something else? - in the sock girl’s flutters.

You can’t just shut these things out, you know.

He didn’t know whether it was the fact that the man was getting on his nerves, was picking on random patrons, or was suddenly the extrasensory equivalent of Christmas dinner. But Finley had had enough of it. Before he even knew what he was doing, he shot up from his chair, knocking it over, and glared at Drunk Guy. He dimly heard Jeff mutter something that rhymed with “you dumb duck,” and rapidly blanked as he realized what he had just done. Drunk Guy whirled around.

[jollyjohanna]

Carl was getting really tired of the drunken guy. He let one of his eyes carefully peek out from under his collar at the neck and the other one slipped quickly over his face and hid under the sunglasses. His peripheral vision thus increased to almost 360 degrees, but he could spot no bouncer and the bartender was busy at the other end of the bar. Carl sighed and then placed a steady hand on the drunken guy's shoulder.
"People ain't here to hear your bickering, they're here to have a good time. So either you shape up or I'll have to ask you to leave."
He glanced at the new girl who had entered the bar.
She seems to be a little too old for sock puppets, though. But it's hard to tell nowadays, maybe its a new trend among them youngsters or something.
The drunken guy didn't take too kind to Carl's advice, though. He smacked away Carl's hand and glared furiously at him.
"Leggo of me!! Be glad I don't kick YOUR fat ass outta here!"
Then he noticed a new presence behind of him. It was a pale, red-haired young guy, and the last pieces of the drunken guy's self-restraint snapped.
"What's YOUR problem, redhead?!" he shouted. Now the majority of the people in the pub stared at him. Sure, it was a pub and people got drunk here, but this drunken guy was crossing the line between 'annoying' to 'drunk and disorderly and a really loud pain in the ass'.
"I've had ENOUGH!" the guy continued in the same high voice. "You wanna take me on, too? Well, alright then!!"
Then he swung his fist toward the red-haired man.

[paleos]

((OOC: Hello folks! Mind if I join in with Jack here? A pub is really the perfect place to introduce him ;D))



It was the last day of the semester at Bridgeport College and Jack had decided it was time to celebrate. Grading finals be damned! A good drink always came first…and second…and possibly third. It was going to be a long vacation away from home before classes started again, and he just didn’t want to think about it today. By the time Jack had wandered through town and along the shore on his way home, on what you could call a decent pub crawl, he was already pretty tipsy. This could be a problem at times. He was less effective at hiding his “condition” if he didn’t concentrate all the time. Otherwise various scales, scutes, and horns would poke in and out on his skin as he tried to maintain composure.

In this moderately inebriated state Jack stumbled past the entrance to the Fisherman’s Hook. It sounded busy inside; a few raised voices rising over the general din. Jack enjoyed a lively pub and, having never made a visit to the Hook, decided to step inside.

It was packed in the pub and at the far side of the pub a big fellow with a scarf and hat on and some drunk were the ones talking loudly. Jack thought the big guy seemed odd, being bundled up indoors, but shook it off and went about procuring a glass of whiskey from the bartender at his end of the bar. He was looking for a comfortable place along the opposite wall, where his thickening hide wouldn’t pinch beneath his cloths, when the drunk began yelling for a fight with a young patron that came from behind him. Strangely enough no one else in pub bar made an attempt to stop him, and the tall pale boy had a look on his face that gave Jack the impression he could handle himself here. He had to laugh as the drunk took a shaky swing at the kid.

[scribblerrigby]

Fin was literally shaking from his own restraint, but happy that he had already had some of his packets to tide him over.

God, I have a problem. There’s a crowd here, he told himself, repeatedly. There are girls. Hot girls. And I’m pretty sure that guy over there is going to be my professor next semester. I really shouldn’t be getting in trouble in public like this. Where the frick are the owners of this place, anyway?

He hastily sidestepped the drunk man’s unsteady swing , and addressed the man in what he hoped was a calm yet intimidating voice.

“No, I don’t want to take you on. Wouldn’t be fair, anyway. But -” Calm, man. Ommmm, or whatever. - “I’m going to have to ask you to leave these people alone, alright? Pretty sure you have no beef with them. Now this is the only chance you’re gonna get here - It doesn’t look like any of the employees are around, and I’m not as nice as that scarf guy over there. So knock it off. I‘m serious.”

He looked around the bar, then back to the table. Well, this is embarrassing. I’m part of a scene, now. Only thing to do: Get the hell out of there before something stupid happened. Go chase some rats or a cat or something if you’re still hungry.

“Guys, I’m gonna go,” he grumbled, tossing his cash on the table and glancing one last time at the girls at the bar, who either had returned to whatever conversation they were having before, or were staring distastefully in his direction. Great. He wasn’t chivalrous as much as completely stupid. So much for those chances.

Finley grabbed his jacket, downed the rest of his cherry bomb, and pocketed his packets spitefully. He was just turning to head out the door when a surprisingly well-aimed jab caught him right in the face. Apparently Drunk Guy wasn’t finished yet.

He swore explosively as he lost his balance and stumbled against his own table; dark purplish-black fluid began to trickle from his nose. He wiped it on his arm and shirt. saw stars, then saw red. He was barely aware of his friends getting angry at the man, and Jeff adding quietly, “Just don’t hurt him, Fin.”

“Jesus H., Jeff - now why would I want to do that?” Finley snarled. He was still trying to stop the bleeding and looked half-crazed with black smeared all over his face, his jacket and his ‘trust me, I’m a doctor’ t-shirt. He was at a loss - he was terrifically hungry, painfully angry, and desperately hoping someone else would step in before the spit really hit the fan.

And all the while, something about that sock puppet was bothering him a lot more than it should have.

[paleos]

Jack had to laugh to himself again as the pasty kid avoided the drunk’s poor attempt at a punch. “This is my kind of place”, he thought to himself, “Why haven’t I come here before?”

Jack was about to turn back to his drink when the drunk swung again. He liked a feisty bar crowd, and had many a heated argument over his favorite ballclub back home, but he was still startled when the drunk’s second punch hit home.

The pasty kid’s friends leapt up from their table and he clearly remembered a few faces from his class this semester. The kid had made a good point a moment ago about a distinct lack of authority in the pub, and the lone bartender appeared powerless.
Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe it was the urge to hunt something he was fighting in the back of his brain, but he was NOT happy about seeing “his” kids pushed around by some dumb punk. Jack downed the last of his drink and stumbled across the room.

Pasty kid had a disturbing look in his eyes that made Jack’s already uncomfortable skin crawl. Jack raised his eyebrows at the kid and put his hand up to stop him before stepping in front of the drunk. Jack was only a rookie professor, but he tried to command some authority before things got really out of control and pasty kid and his friends did something regrettable. Maybe he could get this jerk outside to defuse the situation.

“Hey theyah chief! Why don’t you leave these kids alone befoah somebody cawls the cawps on yah?”

Jack grabbed the man’s jacket off of his chair and stuffed it into his gut, then proceeded to drive him towards the door.

Through the thickening fog in his mind Jack realized he was probably putting himself in a stupid situation and prayed to the great god of ANYTHING that the drunk would have some sense.

[jollyjohanna]

The situation really started to get out of hands now. Carl was standing by, not sure what to do. He guess he'd have to go in between in case a fight was going to take place, but that wasn't something he longed to do... he didn't care much for the look on the redheaded guy's face. His eyes were just... kind of bothering to look at.
Then the drunken guy took a swing at the redheaded guy, but Red easily avoided it and then announced that he wasn't going to take on the drunk.
Good.
Then the drunk bravely jabbed Red's face when Red was looking the other way. Red's nose sprung leak and he didn't look like he was going to be as forgiving this time.
...Not good.

Before he had decided what action to take, another voice echoed through the pub. Carl turned around toward the man who had spoken in a broad New England accent and felt a bit relieved when the man started to drive the drunk guy out toward the door. The drunk struggled and cursed and even aimed some weak punches toward the man, but he was to wasted to make some real damage and they were out of Fisherman's Hook pretty fast. Many relieved sighs could be heard now that the annoying guy was out on the street. Everything had solved itself without a fight.
Carl decided to stay put, the New England guy seemed to be able to take care of himself, and walked toward the bleeding guy instead.
"No use getting worked up over lowlifes like that, right, Red?" he said in a cheerful voice, hoping that the young man would decide not to follow the drunken guy out. If he was, well... Carl wouldn't stop him, but he would certainly try to talk him out of it.
"You need some paper for that?" he asked and nodded toward the blood on the man's clothes and face. "You seem to be bleeding... pretty... badly..."
His voice trailed off when he looked at the blood splatters. First he'd thought that they appeared to be so dark just because of the lighting in the pub, but the more he looked, the more he realized that the blood didn't seem to be red at all. Heck, it appeared to be pitch black.

Before his mind could cope with this he heard a part of an alarming sentence from a couple of hoods that were sitting around a nearby table. It was the very same table from which the New England man had grabbed the drunk's jacket, and Mr Wasted hadn't been drinking alone. Around the table sat four more guys, and they all seemed to be the same age as their absent friend and equally drunk. On of them had risen from his chair, he had a black leather jacket and blond hair, and it was him Carl had overheard.
"- not gonna let'em kick Steve outta the bar like that, right? F*ckin' cowards, three against one. C'mon."
The other man agreed and the whole party started to move toward the door. This didn't bode well for the man who had escorted Steve out.
"Aww, crap."
Carl looked indecisive from the door to the bleeding guy. He had to know what the deal was with the man's blood, but... he couldn't leave New England alone against the hoods. He turned toward Red and tried to say in a commanding voice:
"You stay put in here, you hear me? We need to talk later."
while he walked toward the door.

At the same time, outside:
Steve didn't react well to being driven out on the dark, empty street. He was busy telling Jack exactly what he thought about him and what he was going to do about him, like:
"-and then... then... then I'm gonna rip your f*cking beard off and shove it down your..."
The door opened and four more men exited the building. One of them looked toward Steve and Jack and smiled broadly.
"Hi, Steve. You got a problem or something?"
Steve nodded.
"Yeah, this %¤@# think he's somebody. 'S gettin' on my nerves."

[floppybelly]

Loretta breathed a sigh of relief as the rowdy men left the bar. Curious as ever, though, she moved from a barstool to a table in the corner, the better to peer out the windows. With a wry smile, she sat to watch the action between the brawling bar-goers, tugging nervously on her hat-strings with each punch that was thrown. The latest arrival, this blonde man with the accent, reminded her a little of her father. Loretta could only hope he didn't get too badly hurt.
She turned back to watch out for Carl, who had gone out to moderate the fight, still spattered with the strange black blood of the pale youngster. As she watched Carl walk back into the alley, Loretta noticed that she'd begun squinting to see better... It was getting dark.
Which meant that she was due back at the lighthouse, to make sure the lamp was fully lit. With a sigh, Loretta hurriedly paid the bartender and rushed out the door, bundling back up for the walk back down along the shore.
But before she left, Loretta wanted to say goodbye to her new acquaintance. Ducking her head back in the alley, nearly blinded by the low light levels and her sunglasses, she tried to find Carl in the mess. Unfortunately, the drunks seemed to have other plans. One of them came barreling towards her, knocking her roughly to the ground as he was thrown by someone.... was that the blonde man's doing? It was near impossible to tell, and as Loretta picked herself up and tried to peer back into the darkness, she heard a yell. The drunken man who had run into her was squatting before her as though to lend a hand to pull her up by. But he was no longer moving, nor made of flesh. Loretta gaped in horror, as she spied her sunglasses on the ground a few feet away.
It was already too late. She had killed again.

[scribblerrigby]

Well, that was settled, then. Nobody’s going to get hurt. Corney knows what to do, and I don't have to rip anyone's freaking throat out. His nose had already healed; he figured that fast healing was the only perk of being what he was, so far. He did however have a horrible feeling that Scarf Guy had noticed, even in the dim lights, that his blood wasn’t exactly normal. He looked down at his shirt and his sleeve. Oh, yeah, he noticed. Man, it looks like you’ve been rolling around in an oil puddle or something. He turned to his friends, who had been watching and commenting on the event.

“Dude the cops are totally gonna come after this one.”
“Hey- you all done? We should go to my house, or something” That was Jeff. He looked at Finley, who nodded slowly, bloodlust fading away. The rest of the guys seemed game, too.
“You have Halo 3?”
“Yeah, Noah, I do. Dad’s Molsons in the fridge, too.”
“Hey Fin, clean up - we’re getting the hell out of here and going to Jeff’s. Meet you there?”
“Sure, guys.”

So none of the guys had noticed the blood. He was personally sick of the game - nothing beat the original, in his opinion, but anything would work at this point to take his mind off of the events of the night. He gave a halfhearted wave to the guys, and then stumbled into the bathroom to give his face a quick washing up.

I suppose the good thing to do at this point is to thank Corney and the Scarf Guy. And probably tell Scarf Guy to forget about the blood. However I do that. Probably on my way out, if they’re still around.

He dried off, double-timed across the bar and out the door to his car parked outside the alley - and had to jump aside as he nearly slammed straight into…something.

It was one of the drunk guys - Fin could tell by the jacket - crouching over. But something was off; Fin could usually sense the pulses of anything around him. But there wasn’t anything from this guy, despite him still remaining slightly upright, looking perfectly - inexplicably - okay. What?

He bent over to look at the man while his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light; he stared and waved his hand in front the man’s face and even ended up socking the guy’s shoulder. The resulting cold, unyielding crack told him all he needed to know. Shocked, confused and scared, he stumbled backward, holding his sore hand and nearly losing his footing.

“JESUS FRICKIN’ CHRIST!” He scrambled towards his car, used it to hoist himself up, and looked around, then at the stone man, then around again. “What? How the - WHAT?!” he managed to croak weakly.

[paleos]

Outside the bar Jack tried to reason with the drunk as he spewed obscenities and insults.

“Yeah, yeah get it all out pal, but you wah gonna be in serious trouble if you stuck around in theyah. Now look, if you head down the street you’ll get to anothah nice pub I just came from with an awesome whiskey selection and by the time the cawps get heah…”

He was cut off by the drunk’s friends who had stepped out of the Fisherman’s Hook. Jack smiled and was ready to thank them for coming out to take their friend away, but it quickly became clear this was not to be the case.

The two advanced at a word from their friend. Jack had momentarily turned his back on the drunk who apparently was not so sloshed as to pin him with his arms held back, leaving him an open target.

“Don’t freak out”, Jack thought to himself, “you need to think fast and keep calm long enough for somebody to call the police…or get some backup.”

Just as one of the two men took a heavy swing at him Jack tossed his head back at drunk guy. He caught him completely by surprise; the drunk letting go his grip to clutch at his face as blood began pouring out between his fingers. A quick sidestep brought Jack out of the path of the other man’s swing and he was able to bring his left knee up into his ribs. Cursing aloud Jack fell to one knee as a sharp pain shot through his leg; an inopportune reminder of a past injury. He scarcely had time to think of how stupid he was for his mistake when the third man brought a fist down across his face, knocking him unconscious.

Jack awoke moments later as he was propped up in the alley behind the Hook by the two drunk man’s friends. The drunk stood in front of him holding a piece of wood torn from an old loading pallet.

“That son of a b*$?h! He broke my nose!”
“Yeah, well we’ll make sure he doesn’t stick his nose round’ here again!”
“Just make it quick Steve so we can toss him in the dumpster and get outta here.”

At this point Jack lost his composure completely. A tussle in a bar is fine and good; he had no problems healing from a night of fisticuffs. These guys were rotten though, and looked like they were ready to put his face through his head! Being dead was something Jack wasn’t sure he could come back from, and did not want to find out. He panicked and began to shudder, clenching at his gut. The two holding him tried to stand him upright for the drunk to land a hit when a pair of membranous wings exploded from his back, tossing across the alley. He stood up briefly, long enough for the drunk to see that his face had extended into a scaled muzzle sporting large teeth, then fell to all fours as the changes quickly went their course.

A monster, a dragon, now stood before the drunk in the tatters of what were Jack’s cloths. Out of terror the drunk broke his piece of wood across the monsters face. It gave him a sideways confused look, reminiscent of a dog trying to understand a person talking, before baring its teeth and leaping at him. The man instinctively threw up his arms and could have easily been torn to pieces had he not still been holding a part of the wood, which temporarily lodged into the creature’s open jaws.

A commotion at the end of the alley caught the monster’s attention as the back door to the pub swung open. It turned in time to see one of the drunk man’s friends fleeing past the crouched form of the other and a tall pale figure come barreling out of the bar into the crouching man. The smell of blood was on him too, but it was different. The drunk beneath its paws had fainted. He wasn’t going anywhere; he could wait. The dragon maneuvered around the alley to head towards the back of the pub when someone shouted from the street.

It was the fellow with the scarf from inside the bar.

[jollyjohanna]

Carl wasn't really sure it was such a great idea to try and stop four young drunken angry men from fighting, but the hoods had really seemed intimidating and he doubted that they just would give the bearded man a pat on the back and thank him for helping their drunken friend and handling the situation so well. Hopefully it didn't have to end in fisticuffs.
All this Carl thought while he was exiting the building, and he entered the darkening street just moments after the hoods had dragged Corney into the alley behind the Hook.

The street outside Fisherman's was deserted. Carl removed his sunglasses and let one of his eyes circulate a full 360 degrees lap around his head (this was faster than turning his head all directions) but there was still no sign of them. He cursed for himself and let the shades slip down into the front pocket on his sweat shirt. His other eye and two ears slid up to his head and started to circle around it, looking and listening. The young men wouldn't have dragged the New England guy away if they only wanted to roughen him up a little; maybe he should go back in and call the police...

Then he heard muffled sentences from the alleyway beside the Hook. When he listened he heard something that sounded like:
“That son of a b*$?h! He broke my nose!”
“Yeah, well we’ll make sure he doesn’t stick his nose round’ here again!”
“Just make it quick Steve so we can toss him in the dumpster and get outta here.”
Okay, so they hadn't gone so far. He started to walk toward the alley in a brisk pace, almost jogging, but before he'd entered the dark alley loud screams could be heard from inside. He halted, stupefied. It didn't take long before the young men came running out of the alley helter-skelter, screaming on the top of their lungs and with pale faces filled to the brim with terror. One of them, a tanned guy with a pony tail, collided with Carl and knocked them both off their feet. And that said something about how fast he'd been running from whatever terror that lured in the alley - to get a big guy like Carl off balance you'd have to have a lot of momentum.
"Oooof!"
"Umph!"
The both men sat up and the pony tail guy caught a glimpse of Carl's face where an eye, a nose and a mouth were sliding around in a confused kind of way (things were happening too fast for Carl to even try to get his face in some kind of order) and started to scream even higher than before. Then he got to his feet and ran away, screaming like his sanity were starting to loosen up around the edges.

Carl slowly stood up, his features scrabbling all over his head, and tried to evaluate the situation. The first thing he noticed was that he had lost his cap. The other thing was that someone had started screaming behind him.
>>“JESUS FRICKIN’ CHRIST! What? How the - WHAT?!”
His eye circled to the back of his head were it had a better view over the street and the front of Fisherman's Hook. A man stood squatting down, reaching his hand out to someone on the ground - was it the girl with the toque from inside the pub? Yes, it was. But it was none of them who had yelled. It was the redhaired guy from inside the bar who stood leaned against a car and was looking like he'd seen a ghost. Actually, the squatting man who Red was looking at stood a little bit too perfectly still.

But as one of his eyes was darting over the back of his head, trying to find out what was going on with Red and toque girl and the too perfectly still man, his other eye was locked on the alley where the men had came bounding out of. Something moved in there - it was too dark to see what it was, but it was big. Very big. And it was coming closer to the end of the alley.
Carl stood perfectly still (but not as perfectly as the stone man) but his mouth slipped to the back of his head and he tried to keep his voice calm and steady when he announced in a loud voice:
"Okay, people, nobody move. No need to panic until we knows what we have to deal with here."
Then the mouth slowly circulated back to the front of his head which still was turned toward the alley. Hesitantly he called in a low voice:
"That you, uhm... bearded guy? Everything okay in there? ...Steve?"

[floppybelly]

Loretta peered back into the dark alley... Had she been seeing things, or was there something back there with wings, thrashing about? Had that been what had thrown the drunk barreling in her direction?
Quickly shoving the shades back onto her face, she glanced up to meet the gaze of the redhead, who had already discovered her crime. Somehow he had landed a punch in the solid stone of the drunk's shoulder, strong enough to leave cracks in the jacket. Loretta shied away from him in fear. There were definitely some very strange things happening in this alley, and for once it wasn't (completely) her fault.
A reassuring voice called back to her, the familiar voice of Carl from the bar. Picking herself up gingerly, Loretta cowered next to her latest piece of "art" and waited for the violence in the dark depths of the alley to settle down. She could barely see anything, but the un-shaded civilians should be able to make out plenty... She wondered how long it would take the drunks to notice their missing companion.

[scribblerrigby]

Finley steadied himself on his car, and noticed for the first time the cowering woman near the stone man. They met eyes (despite hers being behind sunglasses), and she jerked away from him, absolutely reeking of fear. He held up one hand in defense, still leaning on the other for support.

“Ohh…hey, it wasn’t me. I may have looked a little scary back in the bar , but I swear I didn’t do anything, for once. This - ” he gestured frantically, “ - I don’t even know what this…is…” He trailed off, noticing that she seemed more preoccupied with the crack he’d made in the stone man.

“Hey, yeah…I’m really strong, but I’m not going to mug you or anything! Those guys…most of those guys are gone, and I’m not that drunk at all…you were in the bar! You saw…”

He stared again at the stone man, and then her sunglasses and her toque…and things clicked. Her sunglasses at night. Acting for all the world like a kid that got caught with her hand in the cookie jar by a stern and scary parent… Clash of the Titans. His God of War video games. His long-buried memories of reading Greek myths back in middle school.

It was crazy, but - holy freaking crap, he was staring at Medusa in the flesh. And she’d just Michaelangelo’ed one of the drunk guys.

Okay.

He let himself slowly fall against his car again, and didn't even bother to prop himself up this time. As he was working on accepting the fact that he was about four feet away from a real-live, DANGEROUS gorgon (vampires and werewolves were one thing - but was EVERY mythical creature actually real?), a new voice piped up from near the alley: “Okay, people, nobody move. No need to panic until we knows what we have to deal with here.”

Scarf guy! Only without his customary accessories. And - amazingly - with one eye staring at him from the back of his head, and his mouth sliding around to the front of his head like an odd little animal.

Man, when Marlene told me to ‘expect anything,’ she wasn’t kidding!

What was he talking about, anyway? He turned his attention towards the alleyway, where something very winged and very large was moving around in the shadows. Oh. Bet you didn’t see this coming, Marlene - more kinds of monsters around town didn’t necessarily mean more support. Like tonight, it probably meant a whole new set of ways to get killed. Terrific.

Oh, I’m panicking, Scarf Guy. Definitely panicking. Humble vampire, scared out of his ever-loving wits.

“I don’t think Steve’s coming out of there,” Fin muttered, unhelpfully.

A low growl came from the alley, and an enormous, reptilian head swung into view.

Fin nearly shouted in surprise and stared warily at the thing. Maybe the smart thing for him to do right now was to hop in that car and drive away as fast as possible. But, for the second time that night, Fin’s brain was starting to feel pretty fuzzy, terrified, and extremely defensive.

[floppybelly]

(OOC: Gosh darnit, writing about Loretta at night is always going to get that song by Corey Hart stuck in my head.)

Barely able to make out anything in the dark, Loretta could barely see as the monster's head swung close by. Wincing internally, Loretta had to remind herself that she was a monster now, too. She had to stop using that word.

Scrambling back so as not to be hit again, Loretta found herself next to the pale, herculean redhead. His discerning gaze told her that he'd figured her out... So why was he still here? Loretta's snakes writhed uncomfortably as her panic grew, and she tugged down her hat in an attempt to calm them (and herself) to no avail. With her secret discovered and the large beast doing who-knows-what to Carl and the others in the alley, the world seemed to be caving in on her. And the lighthouse remained unattended as night sunk in over the ocean. Crouching down into a tight mess between the redhead and her victim, Loretta huddled in with her head in her hands, with shapes beneath the hat moving in the dark as she tried not to lose herself again.

[soup]

(Oh geez are'nt I amazing for completely abandoning you guys in the middle of an rp?
I'll just pop this up here in case there's any way I can hop back in :3 If I can't I'll just delete my post ^.^)
Evelyn bristled at the drunks insult, pointedly ignoring him, and the ensuring tussle. Fights happened often enough here to get used to them, and as she had learned, it was always best to stand down, especially if the guy in question was blind drunk.
She sighed in relief as he was chucked out, swilling the last of her drink before downing the rest.
When the other patrons left the bar after their friend, however, she stiffened.
Surely someone else noticed the obvious trap?
She almost considered calling the barkeeper before a different group decided to follow out, including the bleeding guy and that one who coped it from the drunk before her.
Satisfied, Evelyn plopped her drink back on the counter before grabbing her purse and putting a 5 dollar note on the bar before making her way out, chuckling o herself when the barkeeper just 'happened' to walk past her exact seat before the change could be nabbed.

Outside was certainly not what she expected. Where was the gang? Where were the retreating taunts? It sounded instead like people were scre-
'Get out of here you stupid girl! Do you have no survival instincts?'
Frowning, Evelyn shook what little of her arm she had, spitting back at Suppet "The hell're you talking about? Jeez, that groups gone. Probably just got their heads busted in is all."
Nonetheless, she tucked her coat in tighter, picking up her pace. suppet settled to vague hisses before muting entirely, glumly swinging by her side.
Content to watch the ground, it was only by chance that Evelyn looked up to see a hunched figured over a girl on the floor. Wait-hadn't that chick been one to walk outside?
"Oh jesus! Is she okay?"
Hurrying to the pairs side, she squinted in the dark. Off all the places for there to be no street light....
(fail post is filler fail)

[paleos]

Through the commotion and shouting in the alley the Jack beast took a moment to drag Steve into the shadows. Primal instinct took over: if this was going to end in a fight-or-flight situation it wanted to make sure lunch was stored for later. While the dragon was still pushing the unconscious drunk’s body into a dumpster the man with the scarf cautiously moved into the alley and called out again.

"That you, uhm... bearded guy? Everything okay in there? ...Steve?”

Steve’s body fell in the dumpster to the sound of rustling trash as the monster leapt at Carl. With a roar its head connected with the man’s stomach and sent him staggering back several feet and stumbling into a pile of garbage bags piled against the far wall. A few wing beats brought the Jack beast doubling back into the alley to face the rest of the threat. It came to rest on the stone form of the drunk’s friend, snarling face to face with the tall pale kid.

Something in the panicked face before it caused the monster to do a double take. It remembered this face…it had seen him earlier with the prey currently stashed in the garbage. The other two at this end of the alley, Loretta and Evelyn, stood flat against the car parked along the wall and watched as the dragon looked at the ground and shook its head. Jack’s consciousness was slowly working its way back into control.