Closed Bar

November 17, 2015:

Ripclaw causes trouble in a local dive bar while hunting down Cyberdata hired goons. Ravager just happens to be present.

Three Strikes Bar, NYC

A dive bar for 2nd string and D list villains called the Three Strikes.


NPCs: Demon Scum, Demon Scum Bikers, TranceSonic



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Mercenary work is an ever growing thing in the world of 626. As times grow darker more chaotic and more exciting the worth of the hired gun goes up.

Where better to go for info or a job than a place like the Three Strikes Bar? The bar itself is infamous as a hangout for up and coming criminals, second rate super villains and just about anyone who wants to make a name for themselves while not just diving all in. Unless you count a dive bar.

The bar itself from the outside looks like any bar along numerous strips of New York or most major cities in the States. A window, a door, a less than attractive bouncer this one fully human looking except for being about as wide as he is tall and wearing an old sports cap that smashes down enough you can't see his eyes. Hair from the back of his knuckles all the way up his massive shoulders.

The most outstanding thing about the Three Strikes this go around is the number of motorcycles parked out front. Usually it isn't a biker bar so that's something new.

Ravager's Tomahawk is no exception to this line of motorcycles, it just comes in a bit later while the mortar rumbling roar settles to an angry purr and then snuffs with the fall of heavy booted sole upon pavement with decent of the kick stand. From the outer lining of steel toe, to just over her knee leather wraps and is fastened to legs via a zipper from heel to the back of knees, overlain with laces and topped with buckles. Bare from there on up the shorts of black leather pick up high upon thighs, alo held aloft and high upon waist by a single zipper that races from twixt to above navel, straps at the sides making it 'cinch' to her waist. A small sliver of scar etched abdomen and the studded halter top spanned over bosom in the smell of long worn hide and smoke as well as split shots from the abundant bar-hopping of the night. Platinum and silver twined hair hangs down and free save one side braided up against the scalp to wave in a half a mohawk, pushing the front over that milky white eye, the only left to peer at the gorilla guard was the viridian blue lined in smudged kohl.

There is no pause in pace for the door as keys are shoved into her jacket pocket and it is zipped closed. Someone already tried to make off with it once… Anyone else she would kill for less, but the first attempt was by her father. Flipping her scratch phone open and then closed she looks from it, to the bar as if to 'be sure' and then heads on in, slipping past Magilla with a salute.

"Careful, buncha rowdy ones in tonight." The brute at the door says casually to Ravager as she passes him by.

Rowdy fits, the bar itself hosted all number of oddities in here.

The usual crowd in here though criminals were wannabes or the forgotten crooks who got beaten once spend time in prison and just sit around in outfits like rejected cosplayers. Sometimes the real deal shows up and the place looks less like a carnival. Tonight could very well be one of those nights as the predominate group in here appears to be a devil motif biker gang, some of them outlandish looking enough they may have crawled up from the depths of hell. One man in particular the gray skinned massively muscled brute taking up two stools at the bar, horns jutting out of both sides of his head, pointed ears, sharp claws and a spade tail flicking back and forth near his legs. A real demon? Very possible.

The logo on the vests or jackets of the bikers read Demon Scum.
Not such the campy carnival tonight.

A low whistle escapes a man near her in a skintight outfit of green and black, worn on his head is a White Sox baseball cap. He actually dances over beside Rose upon entry, the Humpty Dance to the Tootsie Roll? Yep.

"I've lost my teddy bear! Can I sleep with you instead?"

A smirk plays over Rose's lips at the bouncers words, regarding him briefly over her shoulder with a nod. She'll take his word for it, and in turn the hem of sleeves is tugged upon to bring down while shoulders roll back and adjustments are made in time to come upon the sight, a pale brow rising upon her forehead with a slow blink tha seems to stop mid-flutter when the 'drowning-mid-air' jester spasms himself her way.

"I can't save you if even your teddy bear comes to life and runs away." Rose states with a rise of hand and a flicking dismissal in the 'shoo' curl of fingers.

Just as quickly as he was regarded she turned away from him and approached the bar, pretentious and proud, but not stupid she keeps a bar stool between her and the 'team mascot' for this biker gang. "Vodka, sour with a drop." Order placed to the tender but her stool is not claimed, instead the steel wrapped toe of her boot is hooking into a leg and drawing it to her slowly.

"Seriously? Damn that hurts. I got a heart you know and no one can run away from me." The guy insists and follows her the bar despite the dismissal. He's persistent. "Hey, Fitzy. Her drinks on me, bro."

The 'mascot' as she refers to him glances over with a sneering grin but that is about all the attention she gets, the Demon Scum bikers at least appear to be keeping to themselves.

The bar door opens to release another in to it's tepid, smoke and alcohol scented musky air.
A tall, broad-shoulders with a cowboy hat, pointed cowboy boots, a hooded jacket and tattered jeans. Nothing too outlandish except for his unnatural pale white skin, dark long hair and gleaming red eyes over proud aquiline features and a hawk-nose.

"Shit, Ripclaw." The dancer who was uncomfortably close to Rose breathes.

Rose slides a pack of cigarettes from the inside lining of her jacket as well as a lighter. The spark and ignition billows cancerous toxin from stem to lips in a curl that acts as a white tongue all its own to tease around her lips and lick just over upper tier that draws back in a sneer at the persistence.

"You mistake me for someone who runs. I took you more as the Scarecrow, not the tinman." Her own money comes out of her pocket and slaps on the counter to slide to the tender. "I got me, Fitzy."

Now that single visible eye slides from her Harlequin stalker to the 'mascot', catching the grin and just remaining placid. Rose is not a god fearing woman, but god never grinned at her like that, nor sat at the bar beside her. When her drink arrives she downs it and slides the glass, empty of, lemon drop vodka and red bull back to Fitzy and estures for another.

Rose is just face front, waiting for round two when the man /breathes/ his curse upon her, the heat of him felt but not the touch, not yet. "I swear to fuck, if anything touches me and you say it is a gun, a /ripclaw/ is the least of your worries." But the final few words fade as her eyes follow his.


Is she about to get in the middle of a turfwar for Middle Earth? "Make that two more Fitz." Fingers rise in count and knuckles rap down after, that stool tucked in tight to bring the seat against the curve of ass, but not yet sitting.

"No, babe. If I touch you with anything you're going to know what it is." The guy grins. "Ripclaw is the guy who just came in. Bad news." Turning around so he is leaning against the bar the colorful dancer keeps his form close to her. Body language might say he is actually using her to shield himself from the newcomer.

Speaking of, the man walks over to Roses oposite side, "Just a beer. Whatever is cheapest and on tap." His chin juts out and he glances sidelong at Rose, finally seeing her. It is hard to tell if he is glaring or not. He's got a scowl happening pretty heavy. "Going to need you to move."

The biker 'Satan' makings a clicking sound that causes his lips to curl up and show off sharp teeth, his head tipping towards Ripclaw. The other bikers follow the slight motion and all level their gazes on the pale native.

Fitzy sighs, "Bars closed. Everyone out…"

Rose tips her head towards the man in tights as her drinks slide her way and one is knocked back the empty slid back to the tender while the other remains in front of her and a finger hooks around the base to draw it towards her in a slide. "Oh? Now /that/ I do like." Rose states about bad news as she leans forward and props her elbows on the eave of the bar, slolwy /scooching/ that bar stool out with her hips, the toe of her boot having never left the leg in its twine.

When Ripclaw moves in in turn making her stalker do the same towards her she exhales, an exaggerated sound that is followed up by her knocking her drink back. " I think I will stay right where I am. He is like a T-Rex, his libido is based on my movement." Rose thumbs towards the one obviously closing in to use her as a meat shield, not oblivious to the fall of silence and draw of attention this man is causing.

Fitzy gets a look and a draw of lower lip in a pout, bat of lashes and all.

"Have it your way." Ripclaw snarls suddenly and his lips peel back to reveal elongaged canines and serrated teeth.

"Oh fuck! Run hotness!" The flirtatious new friend of Rose lets out before a blur of color rips past her, brilliant streaks and the man who was trying so hard for her attention has carried her across the bar to stand near the pool tables. The Demon Scum gang between them and Ripclaw.

Ripclaw lunges where Rose and the speedster were only to be swiping twelve inch blades out at the Demon who had been leering at the Ravager earlier, the claws cause the biker to let out a howl of pain and reel backwards as bikers start to draw weapons of all kinds from knives, to pistols to even an energy blaster.

"I warned you Rip, I warned you." The guy next to Ravager says loudly.

Rose was going to have it her way. Keyword. Was.

Derriere is about to be smugly planted into that stool and another drink ordered before she blinks and is in a totally different area of the bar with the speedy stalker touching her. She rocks back, her head even craning in a way that slides the white hair from obscured milky gaze, that bionic eyes scanning him with the iridescent blue in an up-down snap and the draw up of a bow of upper lip.

One hand presses out and pushes her away from the speedster to catch what is going on back whence she came with Ripclaw and the Demon. "So aside from being a cowboy version of Edward Scissorhands, why is he bad news? Everyone has to have a schtick." In the meantime though she is snapping that gaze from one to the next while moving back through the crowd in a weave that is silent and leaves her untouching of the press of bodies in the room.
"Because hes a psychopath." Shane Mills responds a lesser known Hi-Tech thief who really has done nothing of renown. The Demon Scum gang is lead by very creatively that large demon looking individual who goes by Scum. Suspected for human trafficking, desecration of corpses and missing persons. Ripclaw is an unknown nothing pulls up on him as it does the others but they all have patches in their background data. It would take a hacker or someone with connections to uncover those gaps.

"He's fucking with the wrong people and he just doesn't know how to let shit go. These bikers, the Demon Scum they're not to be messed with." A zip from one side of Rose to the other and he takes up a casual lean, "So, bout you and me just jet. I give you my Fast and Furious Seven and we exchange digits?"

The crashing sound is one of the bikers going asshole over elbows in to the bar, thrown by Ripclaw as another is sliced at the legs, blood gushing out and the screams issue forth. This causes several to ease up but a gun goes off and Ripclaw jumps in becoming a whirring blur of sawing blades and slicing limbs. Most of his attacks are not outright killing but if these men being assaulted don't get to a hospital soon enough they might very well die of blood loss.

"Mother fucker… " Snarls Scum and he rams Ripclaw like a bull hefting up and casting him through the front of the bar window and out to the road in a violent display of superhuman strength. "I'll rip you to pieces and fuck the meat thats left. You don't mess with my crew… "

"Yep, it just got real here. Lets go, sexy, you and me. I got a nice place in SoHo."

"You're persistent. I give you kudos, but I like shiny things. And you aren't on my list for what will get me upgrades." That or Rose has had enough to drink in her night of bar hopping after "talking" with her father that the biggest risk is the one she is about to take. Scum has warning flashing all over him, and wanted in California for suspected missing persons as well as a desecration… He just admitted to wanting to do to remnants of this Ripclaw.

"Have fun in SoHo, I hear it's great this time of year." One swift motion and she is weaving into the masses of chaos with a run that gets her enough momentum to hit the wall of mashed together bikers and lower to her knees and slide between legs to come out on the other side with a high kick to one of the crews balls, literally lifting his world into his stomach while picking his legs up off the ground and arching him in a high slam to the floor that has her standing on his groin like a conqueror.

Hands aim down at the captive Demon Scum member, those guns pivoting out from beneath sleeves to snap into hands and fire two rounds, one from each gun that leaves holes on either side of the floor beside his shoulders and at a deafening distance but close enough to kick the flooring up in bits to shower his face.

"Charles 'Randy' Flint. Randy is a nickname that seems to fit the profile for what he is wanted for. You fucked the wrong mans daughter, and thought she was dead. That's pale in comparison to your leader here, but I am sure not much prettier for the lot of you." A single HK rises to aim for Scum himself all the while the toe of her boot /twists/ and the safeties come off.

Run speedy, run.

"What the shit?" Scum growls as Rose interrupts, "Wrong side." The momentary distraction has Ripclaw leaping on Scum's shoulders claws sink in and grip down, teeth as well. Feral is definitely a word to use here.

"I can't… no, not doing this again. I'm out. I'm not down for getting ripped apart by Ripclaw or Scum." A hand slap to Rose's ass at superhuman velocity and in a colorful blur of musical sounds the speedster is gone, his number has also been deposited in her back pocket. Cowardly but smooth! It's a motto. He'll live with it.

Scum rolls his shoulders back and lets out a pained roar, his mouth opens and splits down the center to show an elongating tongue with more sharp teeth and barbs coming off of it. His own jaw becoming more like a spliced mandible than actual jawbone. Teeth upon teeth and he is raking at Ripclaw. It's going to be a very bloody skirmish at this rate.

Rose's captive is hands up wide-eyed. The amount of noise and ferocity at which the two savages are battling it out right now is actually quite harrowing for many. It's not exactly a human engagement.

Ravager typically would have lit a path the speedsters way if it had gone down any other way, but he was there and gone and for a good reason. But the runner up on her list of wanted was pegged beneath her and when the roar omitted it set her into motion. The jump from his prone form has her using his groin as the plant for the leap, though not before her other booted foot kicks at his face to knock him out.

Hail Mary…

One gun flips back into her sleeves in the leap, the hand dropping down into her jacket to withdraw a long red scarf, a keepsake that she never gave back when she posed as 'Lady Vic', a weapon that worked like a garrotte and was aimed to loop around one of those split mandibles, using her weight to rotate and spin, forcing that scarf to wind tighter and tighter if she lands the hooked attempt upon the beasts agape maw.

The wrap of the scarf has Scums mouth forcibly closed making him incapable of fighting back against Ripclaw who, viciously is just letting the strips of flesh and blood fly. It's like watching a mountain lion ride a wild boar to the ground, the snapping and clawing is just intense and the gore to go along with it.

Scums thrashing is wild and destruction, the bar is splintered, tables are thrown a part of the wall is ripped away and anyone who doesn't move from the path of that rampage is taken down. Rose will have been jerked after her prey by the garotte in the process of his frenzy. The whipping reminiscent of a rat-terrier holding on to a dinner bone against a rottweiler but the smaller dog wins in the end.

The leader of the Demon Scum is down, laid out in a pile of his own vitae.

Raggedly and breathing heavy Ripclaw straightens up, hair thrown down over one side of his face and eyes aglow and smoldering like hell stones. His pale white skin exposed and covered in lacerations along with blood. The jacket was ripped off in the fray and shows off the bio-organic metal running up each forearm.
In and out, the breathing continues, loud, low, snarling but a spark of coherency exists in that animal gaze. Discipline wills him out of the berserk-like state and his shoulders slump, "You helped?"

Ravager has one hand looped in that scarf, the other with the gun, but the moment Scum started lashing back and forth that gun snapped back into sleeves and she held on until it made no further sense to, and that was his final twist and slam of his head before his collapse.

His back arched to try and pitch Ripclaw who made his back look akin to a package of raw ground beef, the toss back of his head came with the sudden snap downward where her body whipped up and them back across and down, almost being used to take out the rest of the bars counter if she did not pull back.

A sudden jerk of motion and she rips the ribbon free of Scum's maw, her own form spiraling horizontally to spin just over the surface of the bartop, snap her hand down and grab the edge and stop her own fall.

From her perch atop the bar she slowly wraps the ribbon around her fist in a rotating motion, her tongue coming to a split corner where lips meet and dabbing at the blood there. She was not disarming, she did not know Ripclaw and was ready for another fight, the hand not bearing the ribbon flashing the kunai in a shift of stance - at some point having drawn them to be prepared.

Slowly her mismatched gaze sweeps over Ripclaw and the damage done to him, her chin rising in a nod that affirms his question before she responds. "Next time you want me to move, say please. I'm a lady, Treat me like one." Her hand places to her chest, lashes bat and then the feigned back of palm to forehead releases a sigh just before she hops down with a crunch of glass beneath booted feet.

"Fitzy! Two more. Fitzy??" If he is not answering and gone Ravager is going to be digging for bottles on her onesie.

"A lady and you're in this dive? I'm good. No drinks…" Ripclaw's fingers twitch one by one and the blades retract from dagger length to finger. Still sharp still deadly but more manageable. A wobble on his feet and he takes a shaky step, "This bastard still lives and the cops are on their way… "
Lunging forward Ripclaw grabs up one of the surviving bikers, hefting him in the air effortlessly a good two feet off the ground, "Tell your boss when he wakes this was a warning. Stop working for Cyberdata or next time I kill him. You tell him that, okay?"

The dangling biker nods his head quickly, "Yeah, yeah, anything, I'll tell him."

Casting the Demon Scum biker aside Ripclaw stumbles out the front door, if Rose doesn't move quick enough she'll hear the familiar growl of her Tomahawk.

Fitzy is not responding and he probably followed the speedster asshole over elbows out, so she scoops up a bottle and is heading past Randy to pause, flip the disposable phone open, take a snapshot, send it and then drop the phone beside him, crushing it under heel and kicking the pieces across the floor of the bar. Knocking back the bottle of vodka she takes a long draw, though her gaze never leaves Ripclaw even in his departure.

There is a moment of pause and even before her Tomahawk fires up she speaks up. "Oh /HELL/ no."

The pace is picked up and with a hop over the final thrown biker she is out the shattered front window and in a flurry of a few steps and a jump she is sitting on the back of her bike with a kunai prodding at Ripclaw's side. "I did not offer you a drink, nor my bike."


"Take a left ahead and head for Salem. What's Cyberdata?" Her milky eye stares sidelong at him, flashing green and then casting a light iridescent blue glow.

She is either asking him or the eye, either way…
"Only borrowing. A bike like this you have to have a way to track it right? Besides, I didn't know it was yours." The kunai gets a curl of lips but Ripclaw says nothing about it. "Never heard of Cyberdata? One of the lead designers for advanced cybernetics technology. They are as corrupt as you would suspect and no one is doing anything to stop them. So, I'm stopping some of their flow. Kill the supply lines or in this case one of their disposal services."

A turn off of a side road has him heading towards the a byway ramp, "Why would I go to Salem?

How could she forget? Time had been one fucked up jump after another and things from where she had come from slowly began to fade, a preventative measure for the butterfly effect? Who knows, but as she scanned and he explained she recalled a very speedy friend, the recollection enough to have that blade tucked away and the bottle drawn firmly between them.

"Velocity." The name whispered and perhaps eaten on the wind as it whips past them in their speed away from the demolished bar full of bodies, one of which she called in the bounty for before departing.

"Because I have people there that can help patch you up and put you up." And she was not about to parade him to Xavier's. Not yet. She'd rather lose the bungalow before she put them all at risk.

"Unless you are a lone wolf. I get it, but the people I speak of, they're against companies like your Cyberdata, and if they're as bad as that Demon…" No need to say more, the bottle goes up like a salut and then goes down the hatch.

"I'll patch on my own." Another turn and they're headed east back towards the Harbor. Just a round about way as he doesn't want to cross through the police or more Demon Scum bikers.

"I just met you. Not going anywhere but where I decide… fancy moves but considering you were in Three Strikes, that makes you what… someones sidekick for supervillainy? Last week it was those Trenchcoat Mafia kids with their video killings in there. This week its Demon Scum… " Blood-loss has Ripclaw blinking a little too long and the bike begins to drift lanes, a horn is slammed on and two bright headlights zip past them. "We need to stop… "
"You forget, I'm a lady. I decide. Plus, you're driving /my/ bike." The keys in her pocket had a remote stop and start, and yes the bike has a few different tracking devices in random places. Not just one, because she knows she would look if she was going to steal a beast like this.

For a moment she fumbles with them, because he is about to kill them both and sobriety is a thing that happens when the light at the end of her tunnel just turned out to be a skimmed by F250. Fast movements have her reaching around Ripclaw, and with the remote in hand she powers the engine down, gripping his arms and digging fingers in if need be to guide him in steering off the road.

"Never been a sidekick, I was out bar hopping and looking for a good time." And to prove her asshole father wrong in her skill level, or herself. She's still working this out. Once the bike gets to the side of the road she pulls her blood covered hands back from him and looks at them, then caps off her bottle and pulls out another burner phone.

"Protest all you like later. You look like hell and I am not in the business of fixing people."

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