All Fun And Games

jesus_icon.png timothy_icon.png

Where: Mayor's Mansion - Front Lawn

When: July 4, 2012; Evening

What: It's not all fun and games when the front lawn of the Mayor's mansion is opened to the public again for the annual Independence Day Barbecue.

If the Mayor’s Memorial Day barbecue was big, then obviously his Fourth of July barbecue is even more grand. All the stops have been pulled. Decorations are everywhere and music plays out of scattered speakers to add an undertone of sound to the constant chatter of guests. Streamers of red, white, and blue intertwine around tables and chairs and structures. Table clothes keep up the patriotic theme. Balloons stretch and sway skyward in the gentle breeze, affixed to anything and everything that would keep them from flying off into the heavens. There’s even rumor of a spectacular fireworks display come nightfall. But since there are fireworks every year, this isn’t as much of a rumor as the children would have you believe.

Twice the number of tables had been set up under open-side tents with selections ranging from salads and breads to cold cut meats, sides such as beans and fruit and chips, to deserts of pies and cookies and brownies; and of course coolers with pop, water, and juice choices. Once again, no alcohol given the children running around. Grills and smokers stand nearby to serve those seeking cooked fare, offering chicken and ribs, dogs, brats, and burgers. There’s even a huge cake made out to look the flag superimposed on a background of fireworks already neatly cut into small slices and awaiting any who wishes a piece.

There were games and activities and contests for all ages. From the bouncy house and slip-n-slides, to various pickup games of horseshoes or frisbee, even an all-ages game of tag that someone started had strangers laughing and playing together. There’d even been a football tossed around at some point. Contests have been held throughout the day, consisting of things such as watermelon eating to water balloon tossing. There was an egg drop race for the kids and a three-legged race for adults. And of course the prizes! Small but coveted all the same, gift certificates to locally owned ice cream parlors or t-shirt shops.

The festivities have been going on already for most of the day. It’s been a whirlwind of fun and fellowship. Kids are still off playing despite the late hour, running on reserve energy while they bounce themselves crazy in the inflatable castle or take yet another run down a strip of plastic under a spray of water. Their laughter and shrieks of play can be heard throughout the grounds, the epitome of merriment and adolescent drive to stay awake. The scheduled activities have mostly concluded, save for the long awaited fireworks show which is slated to happen within the hour. And while the sun makes its slow descent, a pickup game of baseball forms up and starts on the drive.

In and out of the house at various points, Timothy's made the required appearance at the event and enjoyed himself, for the most part. He's dressed as formally as ever, slacks and a black button-down shirt, sleeves down despite the summer heat. There's enough nodding, and polite smiles, and eventually he grabs a water bottle, walking back towards where he's been sitting in the shade and taking a seat, cross-legged in the grass until his presence is required to meet this person or that person.

Someone familiar - If Tim remembers that awkward night and the attempted mugging and subsequent boozing - is at the party. Co-incidence? Highly likely given the populace that attends these things being those who are more socially higher. Jesus, in a crisp white button down and khaki's is smiling - which frankly, the tattoo's that are bared don't make it seem all that friendly - to someone who is parting ways and leaving the comrade in arms alone with just his plate of food. He manages to see Timothy, surprise on his face, and he lifts his drink in salutation to the Caldecott brother.

Timothy raises brows at the familiar face, not quite sputtering on his water in surprise, but nearly so, and then there is a jerk of a nod to invite the other man to thread his way over and join him. "Rob," he greets, a hint of a smile. What might have been advertised on the night on the town, there's no hint of now, and the young man's manner is strictly professional, reserved. "Come to enjoy the fireworks show?"

All around people are mixing and mingling. Several walk by Timothy to wave and say hello, no one he'd recognize though surely they recognize him. The Caldecotts have been known in the community for years, and many from the local area have seen the kids grow up. And though few at the event could claim the amount of tattoos that Jesus sports, he's more easily accepted at the affair than he might have been at a black tie event.

Cheering comes from the direction of the drive, where the game seems to be moving into full innings. Adults and teens alike have gathered to field and bat, the teams mostly evenly split.

At a black tie affair, none of the tattoo's would be seen, hidden under white sleeves and black fabric. Here, most of it is modestly hidden in an effort to not scare off people. "Timothy" Friendly and casual, offering his hand out to shake after having gotten rid of his drink, then taking a seat. "Something to do. I heard this was the place to be, but I hadn't expected that you would be here" His attention flicks to the game at hand and the people participating. "You?"

Timothy grimaces at the use of his full name. "Tim," he corrects slyly, handshake returned. "Please, we've had a few drinks together, if you call me 'Timothy' you're going to start sounding like my father, or my boss." There's a nod, then, and Tim leans back on his hands, quite comfortable sitting in the grass in the shade. He shrugs. "The fireworks show is excellent, one of the things I've missed while I was away at school. Plus, if I didn't show up my father would have a conniption."

The goodnatured cheering is broken at odd intervals, sometimes with the crack of a bat against a ball. Sometimes to change rhythms to heckle, all in fun of course, or chant someone on to running. From the sounds of it, both sides are having a good time and drawing a bit of a crowd.

"Tim. My bad" No trace of an accent that Zan if he were present, would recognize. But the comment of father, having a conniption if he didn't show. Well. "Fathers are like that. Even when you're old enough. But, they raised you, so you owe it to them. Familial obligations. enjoy it while you can. Some day they will not be around." He relaxes into the chair, looking over to Tim. "You sticking around after the fireworks, or do you want to hit up a bar? I mean, if you don't have a ball and chain you have to answer to"

Rob's attention is diverted from Tim, to the game, looking like he might get up to help break up whatever argument is about to errupt from the game. But it's over, just as fast and for a fraction on a moment, he looks disappointed. "You have any particular bars in mind Tim? I'm always open to trying new things"

Timothy chews on his lower lip, then drops the conversational pitch down one step in volume, naming a few bars. Most of them known for being both classy, and catering to the edge, a little, catering to a more varied clientele. "Any of those are pretty nice places, going to be hopping tonight likely," he responds. "And possibly eye-opening." The lawyer fidgets with the cuffs of his shirt, delicate but plain silver cuff links on each sleeve.

While the crowd hoots up another play, another man in a Penguins team cap works his way out of the growing swarm of spectators. Quick steps take him after the first, his junior by a few years. At a distance, it's difficult to make out what's being said, but one can tell he's calling after the younger man. Whatever is being said, it doesn't appear very pleasant. Within seconds of the be-hatted man reaching him, the first to leave the game turns to confront him. And the argument resumes.

A few of those, Rob seems to know if the smile on his face is any indication. At the resumption of the fight though, He's standing up, looking for any indication of Security assembling before he's striding forward, with a sharp 'hey" and a throwing up and out of his chin. "Take it somewhere else, not here"

Timothy pushes up and to his feet, tossing the empty water bottle into a nearby bin, and circling around to approach the two fighting from the other side. There's an invisible mantle of authority donned, and he pipes up, projecting and throwing his voice forward some. "Enough, please. This is an event for the community to come together, not for arguments."

So far, there's no sign of security coming. But the argument has drawn the attention of those not watching the game. Besides Jesus and Tim, that is. "Mind your own business," the capped man yells back at Jesus and Tim. "This don't concern you, just this punk here." His words are punctuated by a finger jabbed against the younger man's chest, who in turn reciprocates with a sharp shove of the older. "Man, back off," he can be heard yelling. "Freak, what's your problem?"

Timothy straights, squares his shoulders, and strides forward, pushing himself such that he's in between the two men. Each of whom gets a rather heavy push backwards at the sternum from a flat-palmed strike, quick and accurate movements. Timothy then clears his throat. "It does concern me," he corrects them, reaching to pull out a radio from the pocket of his pants, and then back into his pants, slipping the earpiece on. "This is my parents' house, this party, and I will not tolerate disturbances from the likes of you." If his companion hadn't yet caught onto just who the lawyer is, well, this makes it clear. Timothy Caldecott, the eldest Caldecott kid. Explains the radio.

Rob has a bit of a surprised look on his face at Tim's reveal, but he's maneuvering quickly to grab one of the men, the antagonizer at least and attempt to maneuver it so that an arm is twisted back and up, pinning the man against him, and force him up on his toes. "You heard the man. It's his parents house. There are children present. Such shame you bring to a joyful occasion. You disappoint me."

Jesus catches the hatted man's arm, but not until after he's returned Timothy's strong-armed shove. It knocks the radio from the lawyer's hand, and once his arm is wrapped around behind his back, he holds up his free hand in a placating gesture. Despite arching slightly and lifting onto the balls of his feet. "Ow. Ow. Okay, man. Okay. I get it."

The younger, stumbled after the break apart push, picks himself upright a little slowly. He brushes at his clothing, shirt and shorts getting straightened as if it were a big deal. A second later, after righting himself to a meticulous satisfaction, he comes at Timothy with a sudden left hook, fixing a nice little mouse above the lawyer's right eye. "I said back off! Trying to get out of here already and you all keep stopping me!"

Timothy moves with the blow, doesn't even wince, then ducks, trying to get out of range and standing up again, but he's at a fighting and ready stance ready to block any other blows that come. "If you like," Timothy says, projecting a bit more, "you can leave. I'll call security to escort you out." Radio is retrieved, partially, kicked back towards Timothy and then picked up, shoved hurriedly in his pocket. "Don't hit me again, though. I would _hate_ to file charges."

"I'd listen to him. I've seen his right hook. It wasn't pretty" There's a beat as he tightens his grip on his own guy and Rob looks at Tim. "But it was as well" Pretty that is. "So I'd take that security escort if I were you. Before he's forced to give you a piece of pretty. See this guy?" Rob points to the guy in his grip. "he's smart, he's doing what I tell him to and he's going to get out of here, won't you Pendejo" The last word spoken real low and with a hint of accent.

"Man I don't need your security." The younger guy shoots back. He does seem a little wary about going after Tim again, in a sullen sort of way and regardless of Jesus' warnings. "Just mind your business, like that loser said. Leave me alone." Yet he doesn't back off either, except for more of a shift backward, giving himself space. And then promptly spitting at the hatted man's feet.

The one with the hat, leans back further, making some strangled noises like he hurts but doesn't exactly want to admit it. "Right, right," he's quick to agree. "No trouble here. Just going to wait. And leave when you let me." So he says, until he leans back just far enough to drive the elbow of his free arm into his captor's face. In one motion he pulls his arm free and turns on the young man he'd been quarreling with, knocking past Timothy as he goes in for a tackle.

Timothy stumbles backwards, and grumbles. "Really didn't want to have to do this," he says, lifting to press the button on the radio headset. "This is Tim. We have a ten-ten on the north lawn, security presence needed, over," he says, using the code for a fight in progress and then ignoring his headset after that. There's a brilliant smile flashed to Robert, and then Timothy is wading into the fight, aiming that solid right hook at the aggressor's head. "We _said_ to knock it off."

Roberts right in there with him - and likely t frankly be construed as one of the individuals who'sinstigating as he's not a Caldecott and well, the sleeves. But there's a certain ruthlessness to his actions, strangely managing to shake off the elbow to the face that will blossom into a brilliant black eye later and wades in as well, going for the throat of the one he was holding, attempting to wrap an arm around him, and his body and apply pressure to either side of the jerks neck and cut off blood flow.

Instead of just outright killing him like everything in his body says to do.

It's almost like trying to separate two strange cats who'd been dumped in a tub full of water. The older man is wicked with boney fists. Not only does he catch the younger man, but Timothy and Jesus both feel knuckles bite into them, hitting ribs mostly. It takes a combined effort of the two to pull him off the younger man, between punching and chokeholds. Tim lands a solid blow that stuns him just long enough for Jesus to wrap his hand around the guy's throat. Which may or may not be a good thing.

On the ground, the younger guy has done a decent job of defending himself. He's kept himself in tight, turtled to keep his face and body protected. There's been little in the way of fighting back, every effort thus far had been defensive. Until the aggressor is pulled off. He lashes out then, coming up so suddenly, a knife produced from somewhere on his person, thrust and driven into the older man's thigh.

Timothy snaps into the radio now at the sight of that knife. "I said we have a ten-ten on the north lawn, and we need a bus and locals, aggravated assault," the lawyer says, releasing the button and turning to kick the knife arm, knee to the downed man's groin, another one of those hook punches to the guy's face and then Timothy's moving to restrain the guy, all the while looking for the errant security officers. "If those dimwits don't get here right fucking now, I'll make sure none of them get a job in the field ever again."

"Hey!" who brings a knife to a BBQ. For sure, next time, security will be frisking people. For now, Robert is trying to yank his guy away, away from the other and let Timothy handle himself and work to do what he's doing, which is still to knock his guy out, but put his own body between his and Tim's guy. "You'll have to hire me instead. Think I'd get it with my military credentials?"

Just as Timothy starts calling for security again, the plain clothed officers come into view of the altercation from different directions. There are quite a few people to get around and the grounds are large. But they're not there yet. Tim has ample time to strike the younger man and pin him against the ground. Though it's too late to have stopped him from stabbing his assailant.

Red stains the man's pants, though he's still well in Jesus' control. He's screaming. No manly yelling of pain, the guy is screaming like a strangled prepubescent boy. He thrashes in his captor's grasp, arms grabbing at the hand around his throat and the knife in his leg by turns and doing little good but to hasten the choking's effect. By the time security arrives he'll be out cold.

Timothy strikes the guy who'd had the knife a few times for good measure, which will be a nice black eye later. "Are you familiar with aggravated assault?" he asks the man, words slow. "And prison? Because you're going to be familiar with both pretty soon. There's a sigh and a shake of his head, as the lawyer continues to restrain the man until the security guards can come and take over. "That bar is starting to sound pretty good."

"And a cold raw steak for my eye Tim" He can feel the man in his arms starting to suffer the effects of a lack of blood really making it to his brain. "Long as I don't get tossed out of here" And even if he is, well. He tightens his grip, trying to rush the process along. 'Mayors son huh. Afraid it would scare me away from hanging out with a beer there?"

Sirens are already wailing, the red and blues of police responders seen though still some ways off. Security finally makes it to Tim and Jesus and the two combatants. The guy under Tim doesn't have much fight in him, once he's beaten and held to the ground. He doesn't even struggle, though he's fully aware and awake. One of the officers takes over from the lawyer's efforts, keeping the young knife wielding man pinned while another officer affixes cuffs to his wrist. Another pair step in for Jesus a beat later, dragging the unconscious man a few steps away to put cuffs on him as well. The bleeding knife wound is given a once over and a sterile pad, something that will need emergency crews that are likely following the incoming police.

Timothy takes a moment to give a brief statement and a card to one of the police officers, before foisting the radio off onto one of the security guards and waiting for Jesus to extricate himself from the situation. Which shouldn't be too hard, given as the Caldecott has said he's okay, is to be left alone. "Kinda," he admits, once they've gotten a bit of space. "More that well, the mayor's son is definitely not supposed to be a man like me, you know what I mean."

Robert looks at Tim - having successfully indeed extricated himself from the police and refusing any of his own medical attention. But he looks at Tim, nodding his head, a gesture to his arms and the color all around them. "Too much. Lets leave yur family to take care of the guests, we have earned a drink, I think" Naming one of the places that Tim rattled off earlier, a glance back to the two men being subdued.

Statements are taken, though Jesus is given more than just one dubious look. Security leaves him alone, taking Timothy Caldecott's word on the matter. The two combatants are taken off the grounds after all is secured. In no time, the sirens cut off and two new charges are given into LVMPD's care. In the silence that comes with the sudden calls, the sounds of the party pick up again. Cheers rise from the ball game while the laughter of children echoes in response. Soon, though, first one and then a second whistle rises into the air, both punctuated by a staccato pop and crackle. Flares and flashes of color light up the sky as the first of the fireworks take flight, and they're soon followed by more, bright and brilliant sparkles and explosions.

Timothy is sporting a few developing bruises himself, and he grins. "I think we do deserve it," Tim agrees, leading the way to the curb. "The bar's walking distance, unless you'd like to take a cab?" The lawyer waves off one of the staff of the event, then continues. "So, you don't think less of me for being the mayor's oldest son?"

"Nah, makes me think you're not quite the pussy I think you are" Which is a joke given that twice, both of them have found themselves in a situation requiring use of force. "I'll let you get the drinks though. Since you come from money"

Timothy smirks as he sets off down the street. "I'll take that as a compliment, coming from you," the lawyer says. "Drinks are entirely on me," he goes on to assure, and he makes good on that promise when they get to the bar. The evening is more pleasant than the fight that the two broke up, filled with the occasional smalltalk and discussion of interests, music, and Timothy being a little more relaxed.

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