Freaky Friday

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Where: Velvet

When: April 13, 2012

What: They say Friday the 13th is unlucky, but it's just a superstition, right?

The jazz club is in full swing tonight, so to speak. The bar stools are full, as is the dance floor. Air conditioners work to try to keep the place comfortable, but the crush of bodies makes for a sweaty evening all the same. Costumes don't help. By now, thing like wings, pitchforks, top hats and other props have been removed and abandoned on and under tables; shoved out of the way in favor of music, liquor and company. Most people are a few drinks deep, a few dance partners along or otherwise thoroughly enjoying themselves.

In honor of Friday the Thirteenth, songs about troublesome topics and notorious singers play. Right now, the speakers pump out the upbeat chord of Ain't Misbehaving for a crowd that doesn't much seem to care what is playing.

Nash has no costume, he's going as he normally does, which means most people mistakenly think he's Chris Walken, or dressed up as Walken. He hasn't been in here before, but he isn't opposed to it, it's rather amusing, a party for a cursed day. He's even taking some time to enjoy a bottle of Chimay, it's cool at least, and that counts for quite a bit in this place, though given his previous experiences, this heat isn't all that much, and there isn't sand permeating every last bit of his body.

You'd almost think that it was cruella DeVille parked at a booth with a small cadre of other individuals - Tilly does have friends. The white dress, blonde hair on one side, jet black on another, viciously red lips. Even down to the cigarette holder which a cigarette is perched in but not lit. The most fabulous white fur coat - not real, don't get your panties in a bunch - is draped across the side of a booth.

The only thing out of place on Cruelle is the shoulder harness with it's gun seated firmly and safely in it, and the silver star badge clipped to the holster as well. What can she say, the fur got a little hot.

But black pointed heels bob under the length of the dress and she's eyeballing the bar before getting up to start wading through the crush of Hero's and Villains tonight. Ahh Jazz. A civilized womans best friend. Now if only she had a dirty martini to go with it.

Or a dalmation.

Word got around about some event or another, finding its way to Zan Caldecott's ears. Unlikely it's a venue his father would attend, and so it made for a great escape from another Friday night at home. Even if this Friday happens to be the 13th. A florescent colored band adorns one wrist, marking him as too young to enjoy the finer drinks and so root beer suffices. And it goes so well with the simple jeans and t-shirt that he's wont to wear, no costume for him this evening. No camera either. He's enjoying the mill and press of the people, conversing with the occasional face that recognizes him in connection to his family. Pleasantries passed back and forth with a smile and a laugh.

Dirty martinis are easy. Dogs, less so. Although, in this city, with enough money, you can get whatever you'd like. For Zan, though, the good news is that soda is free. Maybe it's just because the girl behind the bar keeps looking him over whenever he strays close enough.

But soda, beer or gin, it's all readily available. Cute waitresses make rounds at the tables, deftly slipping between bodies. It's them that are the first sign that the stigma may not be all myth and folklore, as a familiar Asian woman passes Zan with an empty tray in hand. It may take a second to place her, but then, last time she had bloody knuckles and an unpleasant companion. A far cry from the classy lines of her professional look.

Nash is quite content to not move from his position, lording over his barstool as the all powerful one. If he gets up, he's fairly certain he won't get his spot back, it's busy tonight. He does occasionally take out his cellphone to check it, since trying to hear it ring or alert him to messages would be hopeless in this place.

"Hey! Martini, Dirty as hell and three olives sweetcheeks" Tilly's slid in beside Zan, raising a hand to get the bartenders attention when someone slips away and she so deftly pushes her way in. The cigarette holder waving in the air with the promise of a significant tip if the woman or some other bartender working there, gets her her drink. Her other arm keeps a close press to her body. "Hey, you" Zan she means. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" Deja vu.

It doesn't take a second look to place that face, and recognition blossoms, the patron Zan had been talking to being momentarily forgotten. His head turns, gaze following the server, the easy smile on his face no longer so relaxed. He misses Tilly taking up the slighted opening at his elbow, and it's a beat after she's spoken before he turns toward her. Or his previous acquaintance who's been replaced by her. "Uh. Hey. Cake shop," he supplies, trying to relax his grin Slim chance he'd be recognized from the alley, right?

"Expecting a call?" It's a young redhead woman that leans over to look at Nash's phone when he pulls it out again. The red isn't natural, looking more like something from a crayon box than nature. But it gets her noticed. And by the crooked smile as she looks from phone to man, she likes attention. "It's no way to spend a night out," the redhead says as she picks up a drink that matches her hair color from the bar.

Tilly's order gets the bartender's attention off Zan and she nods with a slightly embarrassed smile. But she's not so distracted that she can't make the perfect dirty martini. While Vegas may like flare bartenders, here they take a classier— and quicker approach, and Tilly's drink is slid in front of her in moments. A glass of water following. To combat the saltiness, no doubt.

But when she turns to take care of another customer, Tilly and Zan get a view of Thea looking back over her shoulder, lips curling into a crooked, cruel smirk as she winks at Zan. She and her empty tray don't head for the bar like they should, but she seems to be aimed toward a back door instead.

Nash is interrupted from his business when the redhead speaks to him. "Not at all, just making sure I don't need to head back to my own business. It's unwise to ignore a business call, I don't need to come back to it tommorrow and see a smoldering ruin of a building." He says in his calm nonchalanant demeanour. "I only came out to see the costumes people could come up with, perhaps run into Diamond."

"That's right, Mayors kid huh. Nice to see you're not trying to break the rules. Good on you kid" She points to the bracelet on his arm. "Don't want to have to declare marshal law on you!" Okay, she's had a drink before this, which means Tilly's less scowl and more friendly. "How's going?" But oh, look someone sinterested in him. "Quick, follow. Catch that bull by the reigns kid. Carpe Diem. Or Carp diem. Seize the fish I declare"

"Mayor's kid," Zan agrees with a chuckle. He might sound a little uncomfortable there, hard to say with the music and conversation already going on around them. He lifts his glass up in a wave to Thea, a glance going to Tilly at the suggestion. "She's… not really my type," he explains, haltingly. "Little older than I like." Though his gaze darts back to the woman, or the door in which she disappears through.

"Not much you can do if it's blazin', you know. Just staring from the street while you wait for the fire department like everyone else." Ophelia lifts her eyebrows as she sips her drink through a straw.

The door in the back is only closed for a moment or two, and when it opens again, more than just Thea come through. Zan recognizes one. The other don't ring a bell, but they all look… young. And determined.

Thea and Oz slip off from the group, and Ophelia glances that way before she lashes a smile at Nash. "Gotta run. Good luck." Luck for what, she doesn't say, but she slips through the throngs of people and out of sight in the space of a few steps.

There's little time to ponder them, though, as the music cuts off and the group from the back step into view with guns in hand. A glance around shows the doors and exits blocked by burly gents who were not the bouncers that let everyone in here.

"Everyone sit down!! And no one gets hurt."

Of course, people don't sit. They scream. They run. They flail around in the crowd when there's no where to move to.

Nash's first reaction is to go for the gun he normally carries, but tonight, he lacks that gun, so instead he moves to slip the bottle of Chimay down below the bar when people begin screaming and lightly smash it, and keeps it there, if some one tries to grab him, they'll get a throat full of broken glass. "This is why I like having a phone." he says, moving to dig his Bluetooth out of his pocket and slip it into his ear, so he can begin dialing 911 with out having to physically hold the phone with his one free hand. He figures with the screaming and yelling, the gun men may not notice..

Maybe it was good the kid didn't go out the back. What with you know, people coming in, with fairly big guns that probably aren't street legal. Well. They probably were at some point. Not so much now.

Speaking of guns…

Tilly's sneaking hers out of the holster. Not so much to aim it at the individuals. No. That's stupid with all these screaming people. Quite the opposite. She's grabbing zan by the collar and yanking him up as much ass he can onto the bar. "Down behind kid. Really suck if your ass got shot up" But if he resists, she's not going to protest. Not whens hes' doing the same. using her leg to knock over drinks and get down behind the bar. "US Marshal" She informs any bartender who might try to stop her. "Jesus. Sure hope there's some cellblock tango later. "

"Oh, shit." It's probably lost amongst the screaming and flailing of terrified people, but Zan's fear spikes and he speaks rather than tries to flee. Almost like a deer caught in the headlights, while others are trying to get down or out, he's stuck in place until Tilly's pull on his collar gets him moving. He half ducks, then pushes himself over the bar, backing into the display well behind the counter.

Zan falls behind the target, and the first thing he sees is the cute bartender looking wide-eyed and shaking. But with good reason. Thea has a hold of her, a knife to her neck and stands with the bartender as a meat shield. In contrast to the girl's fear, Thea just smiles when Zan drops into view.

"You're not who I was hoping to find here, but you're going to do just fine. Might want to come with me before you get shot out there. Oh, and before I cut her throat open." The woman's eyes narrow, watching Zan as she makes her threat. From the trickle of blood making its way down the bartender's neck, she's not afraid to follow through.

Out on the bar floor, though, the gunmen fire toward the ceiling and that gets a lot of the people near them sinking to the floor.

"Money. Jewelry. Out on the floor! I see a nice pile and we'll get out of here, no one gets hurt. You out there decide to play hero, we're going to have a problem." The warning is enough for some, especially the ones with a front row view of the hardware they're sporting, and valuables start coming out. Out there they seem unaware of the mini drama behind the bar.

Nash can see the drama behind the bar, that, and he doesn't really want to know what hardware they are sporting, he possibly help supply it, it would be a bitch to be shot by his own sales. Now here is a gamble, a crazy lady threatening to gut some one, and a shelf full of liquors around her, and the only true cover near him is behind that bar. So he'll whip his shattered bottle forcefully at the displays and try to vault that bar, some twenty years of Ranger and Legion training coming into play, he's going to try and plant a foot right into Thea's skull on the way. "Pardon me." He says in his now upset tone.

Awww come on. Really? She had to make it back here and be stuck with the kid and one of the criminals. "Sorry kid" Tilly really does look sorry, at him and the bartender who's being held at knife point. It's going to suck behind the bar a lot. But when you have seconds, precious ones, you do what you feel you need to do

Especally when Tilly's pulling the trigger with the gun pointed at the Mayor's son.

Not easy on the ears in such a relatively enclosed space, the bark of the gun, bullet emerging from it, ripping into the teenager leaving a hole in his clothing, blood blossming a few seconds later. It's going to suck to be Zan. But as quick as it came, before the pain can really even get a chance to sink it's fingers in, it's wicked away, gone, Tilly clenching her free palm. Then flings that hand out towards Thea even as Topper's making his run. Fingers thrown out, arm extended and focusing on Thea.

As Topper vaults over the bar, Thea pivots. It's enough to take her attention off Zan and Tilly as well, as she shifts herself and her meat shield to take the attack. The knife comes off the bartender's neck and stabs into Topper's thigh as the woman lets her shield (and bargaining chip) fall and she dashes to the side.

It ends up being a short dash, as a bullet wound opens in her own leg and she stumbles into the back of the bar.

But she's not alone, as metal hands come make a grab for her, flinging her over a hardened shoulder. "He ain't here," Oz rumbles to her, apparently not recognizing Zan himself as he turns to make for an exit. Ophelia's red hair can be seen where she holds the door open, behind the burly guard. He doesn't seem to mind these three getting out before others.

Unfortunately, the gunmen are undeterred by the fact that the La Vida Mala representatives are heading for the street. They care much more about the fact that there was a gun fired and it wasn't one of theirs. There's no fancy leaping over bars for them, just a systematic approach as some go too look under tables and behind booths and a pair come to see what the hell is going on behind the bar.

It's overload, trying to fathom Thea and the woman, then a sudden concussive force just behind his ears and a man jumping over the counter. Zan doesn't even notice the blood at first, though the world tilts forward a little, a hand reaching out to catch himself. In that few seconds it takes for him to grasp some sense he yells out, "No!" Such vehemence throwing the tones of a shriek into the word, made louder over the residual ringing in his ears. He lifts his head to watch the La Vida Mala members run, half tempted to make an insane, reckless dash after them. A look over his shoulder is directed at Tilly, something saying he'll talk at her later before he clambers after the group. Maybe he'll luck out and get a plate number.

Nash wanted to dash after Thea, even with the knife he's pulling out of his thigh, it's not an immediately life concerning wound, and he's suffered worse, instead he's quickly wiping the blade off on his coat so he can get a better grip, and moving to crouch, he's pretty sure he's going to end up in a hospital later tonight, any intent to call the police is forgotten as he notices a bigger problem, two of them, coming for the bar. "That was Zan, wasn't it?" he says off handedly towards the Marshal as he flips the knife around to hold it by the tip, and begins to line it up on one gun man's throat, the best chance for a quick take down. "You should probably go after him, I'm fond of him, he's ballsy." Nash murmurs to him self as he whips the knife. "I spent two decades saving freedom, to get stabbed in Vegas." He comments.

Whoever the hell this guy is that came flying over the bar, telling her what to do, garners only a roll of her eyes as she's watching the mirror behind the bar. Using the mirror to watch the men approaching and letting Zan take off as he see's fit. She'd only be a target like him and better to deal with the men with guns as opposed to running off after Mayoral offspring.

Besides. These heel's be a bitch to run in.

She lets Topper do what he seems really good at doing right now which is distracting her targets. Taking the cover fire. It's with less ability in play and more skill in play that she pops up as he lets go, just enough to slide her arms level with the top of the bar, sight the left hand guy she'd been watching, squeeze the trigger with aim for his chest, then pop back down. Hope that the guys not wearing something protective.

"How about you call 9-1-1 instead of monologuing?" She hisses, always watching the mirror. Go with god kid.

Zan has little problem slipping out behind the gang members, and they only go as far as the parking lot before they stop to look at Thea's leg. Oz's metal skin fades back to normal, and Ophelia pulls off a scarf to serve as a pressure bandage for the moment. None of them seem to mind bleeding all over some random person's car. It's a momentary pit stop, but enough for the young man to catch up.

Topper's knife slides into one of the gunmen, and he falls with a gurgling sound. But it's barely heard, since his buddy opens fire a moment later and Topper feels bullets ripping into his gut and arm. Mirrors at the back of the bar shatter with the shots that miss.

Tilly's shot hits a gunman looking under tables, and throws him off his feet. He stays down, which is a good sign, at least. The bad sign is when the people start panicking again. They scramble toward exits and up stairs, while the gunmen fire into the crowd. Which, of course, gets people screaming. But the lead bad guy is calmly collecting his take at the back of the bar and taking the cover of chaos to make an exit. Only those that notice follow him.

The boy ducks instinctively when more shots ring out from inside. Though the sound is muffled, it's still unnerving to hear anything so close that isn't on a television screen. His feet keep moving after he's cleared the door, though his gaze trails behind as though expecting one of those gunmen to be following. When his attention returns to the parking lot he's almost startled to find himself facing the trio, quite openly; he hadn't expected them to stop so suddenly.

Topper knows the gut wound could be serious, especially because it's distinctly painful to get back up, so he stays down and begins to start calling 9-1-1, probably having to scream to be heard over the gunfire. "Because I doubt they'll hear me." He tries to mouth out when the screaming and yelling and panic picks back up. "Aren't you a fucking Cop? Why aren't you calling for back up?" He suddenly yells at Tilly, becoming aggravated when he realizes he's running a good chance of bleeding out, and he doesn't even want to look at his arm, he's just going to flex it to make sure it's still attached.

"Shut up. Close your eyes" Gun held close to herself and at the ready in case someone thinks they're brave. Then, with more concentration and perhaps some lack of finesse with her ability than she likes to have while using it, She's doing what she did to Zan. Sluggish movements as she 'pulls' the chest wound out and making to fling it at the door, trying to single out one of the fleeing would be robbers. "Something tells me you're not gonna say thanks" Gritted out between her teeth as she spends what little and more of her own ability than she could afford too, feels that little part of her flicker and shut down. There's a thought given to chasing after the teenager, see if he's outside or not, but it's just a thought.

Behind the bar is the safest place to be right now, as it keeps them safe from the churn of panicking people. Until authorities arrive and restore order, at least. It leaves Tilly and Topper with nothing to do but wait, especially when the surviving robbers finally make their way out. But wounded ones are left behind.

Outside, Ophelia draws up as she notices Zan suddenly standing there. Having no idea who he is, the red head can only laugh. "What an escape route you picked," she says, looking to the others for what to do. She's not muscle, clearly. Even when Oz turns around, he doesn't place the face. But Thea simply growls out the word alley and the male of the group is lunging toward the mayor's son to make a grab for him. At least he's leaving out the metal skin for now.

Not exactly frozen in place, Zan's eyes go from Oz to Ophelia to Thea in quick succession. The close proximity, the finding the three right there unexpectedly, he's slower to react. But he still reacts. Twisting around again, he makes for the door he just vacated through though Oz may be too close to avoid entirely. Especially after memory serves and he remembers guns going off beyond that door and he tries to sharply change directions instead.

For a moment, it looks like he'll be able to escape back into the club, but that last minute decision to change direction gives Oz the moment he needs. A hand grabs firmly around Zan's arm and he starts walking him back toward the girls.

"What the hell exactly do you want to do with him?"

"He has to know where that bartender got off to, he was there!"

"Look, he wasn't here! Just deal with it! This is just a punk kid!"

"If you two want to know what he knows," Ophelia cuts in with, "Why not ask him?" It's something of a novel concept. The two thugs look at her, then at each other, making some sort of decision before Thea turns to Zan again.

"Where's that guy from the alley? The one you and your little friends tried to rescue?"

It's hard not to fight back, but it's not highly intelligent to try. So Zan's efforts are minor, more in keeping with trying to not have his arm torn off as he's 'helped' along. His eyes dart, from one to the next to the third, each as they speak before focusing on Thea. She seems to be leading the operation. At least in a sense. "Tried to rescue?" He scoffs, the sound more nervous than derisive. Though he tries to mask his fear with anger. "We rescued him, no idea where he's at. Wouldn't tell you even if I knew."

Oz and Thea look to Ophelia there, and she just laughs again. "Well, he isn't lying. Particularly on that last part, he's very behind that bit." As much as she's a part of this gang, she seems to be much more lighthearted than the others. But Oz turns to Thea, giving her an I told you so look before he drops Zan's arm. Thea doesn't look happy, though, even as the trio look ready to head out again.

"You didn't save him. You're a distraction. He's going out extra mangled, just for you," she says, pointing a finger toward Zan. Oz lets her rant, but as sirens start to sound, he slips an arm behind her back to guide her off. The pair don't say goodbye, but Ophelia waves before she turns to follow them away from the incoming police.

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