Demitri - White at Night

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Description: Demitri walks into a punk rock club in Britain just as the lord of the crack commits another hired hit.

After White's gleeful rampage of drug-induced murder through Southtown during the gang wars, the old badger has decided to retire to London for a time, to sit on his giblets and enjoy the weather. It's the harvest season, and what perfect time to spend the Fall Harvest in Britain, by entertaining some of the local youth?

Or, as White would prefer, the local youth entertaining him.

At a punk rock club called, 'The Shindig', a corporate attempt at making something that rich kids that hate their parents would enjoy, White has set up shop. A band is on stage, some California surf punk rock act that was put together by a British Intelligence officer's son, the sort of maligned seed of England that produces all the horror show latex-coated sleaze that one encounters when going to a poser record store.

As kids rock out to the band, exchanging smiling, saucy-eyed looks and jingling their rubber bracelets made to deliberately look like alternative scene studded bracelets, White is in a VIP booth along the back wall, overlooking the entire affair.

Normally, these booths are for journalists, but White knew a guy. And that guy is dead, of course.

"So, Ripten, what do you think of that guy playing bass?" White asks his fellow in the booth, pointing a large Magnum revolver with a scope on it at the distant bassist, his wrist limp and the gun dangling off his thumb and forefinger's groove.

"I dunno, guvnah, I think he looks rather rad in those fisherman's pants."

Both of them are severely intoxicated, with White's friend under the Romanichal's mental geas, seeing visions of blood and severed hands in his mind, playing a piano with a mastiff perched on it, looking at him.

The news of what had happened in Southtown didn't really resonate this far west, usually news of what happened in Japan stayed in Japan--though there was also the Spire to deal with, so likely any news of that would top priority. More Darkstalker excursions into Earth. What was Jedah doing? Pretty soon a guy wouldn't even be able to get a bite to eat around here. And speaking of bite to eat... Demitri walked along, the dark woolen longcoat draped over his entire body. He was over six-feet, sure, but there were guys much taller and larger than him, he was sure of it. It had been cold enough to snow around here, and had a fair bit--though it wasn't right now, frost and a residue of white clung to everything.

Not many people about, alas, least of all anyone that might make a good target. He wasn't even that hungry, to be fair, and this wasn't the first time he'd been in London... Last time he had stove pipe hats had been in fashion. Now those were the days...

The sound of the music from the nearby punk rock bar however attracted his attention. Public place. And it was still the dead of night. The laws of the natural world would not come calling for a good amount of time yet, and... he supposed he could have a little fun in the meantime.

And so, coming into the club was Demitri Maximoff, Romanian Vampire Lord.

"So what would you tell me, Ripten my boy, if I could make five thousand pounds, with just this here pistol?" White says, looking sidelong at Ripten with his blood red eyes, barely visible in the dark beneath his white bowler hat and the assorted chaos of his lond blond hair.

"Well, White, I don't know how you'd be doing that. That pistol of yours would barely resale at a five hundred pounds and a pence."

White laughs, a haughty, effeminate, high-pitched whine, crossing his right leg over the left at a sharp angle.

"Ripten, you're going to have to tell me how you saved that pawn broker's wisdom from my probe some day."

"I don't rightly remember, White, you did get me to eat my wife."

White sighs and stands up, flicking the safety off his pistol. "That was a cake, Ripten, a cake. You didn't have a wife."

White's grip firms as his wrist stiffens and he takes careful aim, across the club. His eyes narrow as he focuses, and the bassist locks up, stepping forward, into a pyrotechnic effect.

There's a scream amid the crescendo of the music and the roaring fans, that covers the dull gunshot.

The bassist falls to the ground, and instead of writhing in pain, he's dead.

"Five thousand pounds in my bank account, Ripten, for a contract hit from a rival musician. It barely took any convincing to get her to hire me to kill that man."

Ripten claps his drink of white milk and amphetamine accelerator back his throat, quite greedy from the drink, as he bellows a laugh through his bellow. The liquid slops all over his mouth and suit.

The music is nearly deafening and offensive to the ears but also good taste--but when the gunshot rings out and peals of screams fill the club, the man who just walked in and didn't even pay to get in is quickly forgotten. Demitri was just about to deal with the door man or bouncers, too--it relieved him of the problem. He steps further into the club when this is probably about the time everyone is stampeding for the door.

"I only just entered and already someone is dead--I suppose it is true what they say about this brand of music," Demitri looks around at the struggling, fleeing people--then up to the stage, where the dead man is laying. All that blood was being forced out by the man's heart right about now, dead instantaneously. What a waste.

It doesn't take his cape long to lose the facade of a modern full-length coat and return to normal, the vampire is on the stage in a second, looking for the shooter.

"Maybe someone else wants to provide entertainment for the evening?" he's issuing a challenge.

White lifts his kid-gloved left hand to his bowler, and tips it up a notch.

"Well well well, if it isn't a bat out of Hell. You find yourself out the back, Ripten, we aren't done playing with you yet." White then discards his pistol and plants his hand on the VIP booth's outer rail, flipping himself to the ground.

He lands in a jagged lagged guitar stance, before there's a brief slide inwards between his feet and a hop to a standard position, the last of the terrified fans exeunt behind him. He extends his hand upwards and a cane drops into it, dropped by his departing comrade.

"Well well well, bat-man, it looks as if you've come here for a bite to eat." White tucks his cane underneath his arm, his iron-shod heels tapping on the ground as he marches forward. "Normally I don't offer myself up as cattle, but I'd like to know how I taste, and I've never been sampled."

COMBATSYS: White has started a fight here.

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White            0/-------/-======|

COMBATSYS: Demitri has joined the fight here on the right meter side.

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White            0/-------/-======|=------\-------\0          Demitri

"Hmph, more like Bat-Master, to you," Demitri replies rudely, brow furrowing a little at the man's insult. He hadn't necessarily gotten the hang of the back-talk banter bit yet, he hadn't been out of hibernation for /that/ long, though constant haranguing by Morrigan over text messages had given him a course in dealing with it.

"I was thinking of it," Demitri threw his cape back over himself, the scalloped edges creating a wickedly cruel silhouette in the overhead lights, likely the vampire was about to throw the cape back and unleash a horde of bats at him--given they were beginning to swarm around him now.

As the bats swirl around Demitri Maximoff, White dashes forwards, sensing the last of an open opportunity to engage Demetri on his terms. His red eyes lock into Demitri's own as the Gypsy psychopath dares to press fingers into the mind of the long undead Romanian noble, his rivalry with the ancient clans of mountain dwellers strong. Once, White's people were held as thralls in Romania, and now, White cannot resist the temptation to pit his own superb fighting technique against an ancient demon that tormented his clan line into the hideous beast that White is today - a beast that resembles a man in clay only, and perhaps not even mettle.

White leaps into the air and lands on the stage, charging forward with his cane swung horizontally, aiming to slam it across Demitri's face.

"Come on, vampire! Taste the blood of a fellow nocturne!" White's blood is rank with various psycho-active, psychotropic, and anti-psychotic chemicals, plus a few herbal mixtures to poison whomever attempts to make a blood pact, to dope them into submission for White's own purposes. An ancient solution to the monstrum of the various climes the Romanichal call home.

COMBATSYS: Demitri endures White's Straight Staff.

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White            1/-------/=======|===----\-------\0          Demitri

The vampire is apparently too slow to duck the swing of the pimp cane that White brings to bear--sending the tall and broad-shouldered night-thing off balance and staggering--but not stunned, exactly.

"You are gypsy eh? I know your people came from my land, fitting," Demitri finally drew back his cape and one of his large, almost blocky fists up--pulling it back for a straight cross that was aimed downward at White--as if he was seeking to hammer him into the ground!

COMBATSYS: Demitri successfully hits White with Medium Punch.
- Power hit! -

[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
White            1/-------/=======|====---\-------\0          Demitri

White laughs in Demitri's face as the cane slaps across it, before his giggling mockery is cut off by the fist down on his head. He slams into the ground on his chest and stomach, his hat toddling off his skull, producing a deep wheeze as his shoulders knit together above the bloody stage.

"I am the beast your kind have created, King of Nothing," comes a hiss.

He glowers up at Demitri, baring his teeth, before he jolts to his feet and off the ground, rushing at Demitri with a hard shoulder tackle meant to slam him into the stack of amplifiers behind the pair.

"You are in your Father's house, fool, and I am the host within the chalice!"

COMBATSYS: Demitri blocks White's Strong Throw.

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White            1/------=/=======|====---\-------\0          Demitri

The clash of bone and sinew commences--the vampire could feel the impact as his fist bore down on White, hitting him hard enough to even hurt his own hand. He had kept his wrist straight for the most part, at that. White was apparently made of sterner stuff than he thought.

"You can call me the King of Pain, then," Demitri flexed his hand after pulling back from the blow, since he really had hit White hard enough to hurt it--taking the impact of White in his shoulder and thrown back by it--but quickly recovering and catchhing himself with his arms before he was forced to the ground.

"I think you'be got a death wish," Demitri's leg then shot out--aiming right to slam his brown leather boot to one of White's knees and kick it out from under him!

COMBATSYS: White blocks Demitri's Medium Kick.

[          \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
White            1/------=/=======|=====--\-------\0          Demitri

White's leg gets kicked out from under him, snapping backwards and leaving him face down in the murky blood. He splutters up blood, before he presses off the ground and jaunty-legs back to his feet with a perfect lever snap backwards, his body straight. Caterwauling away and around, he circles the space between them, before he recovers to face him.

"Death? Is that what you think I wish for?"

He laughs, his face raucous and insane in bent agony. The high-pitched barbed laugh can be heard lurching from his throat, as blood leaks down his face from his brow, that punch having down grievous harm.

"Let me show you my wish for us, vampire king."

He goes rushing back in, his hand reaching out, and it slaps forward with a blur at Demitri's brow, attempting to make a brief synaptic link, before a massive pulse discharges between his hand and whatever it touches, a blast of psionic cocoon exitting White's twisted mind.

"Return to your dwelling place, this place is my home! This is the theater!"

COMBATSYS: White successfully hits Demitri with Hypnotize.

[           \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////             ]
White            0/-------/------=|=======\=------\1          Demitri

"Feeling your limitation yet, human?" Demitri has to feel a little smarmy about this, White was really cocky and it honestly felt /good/ to deliver this kind of punishment, despite the fact they were clearly out of eachother's leagues. Demitri didn't seem to care. Still, the mortal's bravado and excitement even in the face all this pain is enough to unnerve even him--and he definitely didn't expect the surge of psycho power that sprang from the man's body after that.

"What the--" Demitri felt the psi-power hit him, but also the oath and decree that White gave after was unsettling. White was sincere and strong of belief enough in that one moment to rebuke even him--causing his vampiric powers to fail.

"Aarrrrgh!" bits and pieces of cape and jacket went flying as the psionic power crashed into him--hurling him back. The vampire was wounded now, forced to push his body to it's full limit to survive!

"You might BELIEVE you can stop me, but your body will come apart!" Demitri lunges at the man, prepared to grab him and send him crashing into the floor and stage!

COMBATSYS: White blocks Demitri's Negative Stolen.

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White            0/-------/------=|=======\==-----\1          Demitri

White is lifted into the air, his legs kicking out around Demitri, before he's slammed into the floor and the stage.

There are a hollow few moments, before White bursts out of the hole and flies backwards, looking nearly as if he's floating, before he lands in a jaunty stance with his hand down.

Breathing hard, his cane in hand, he grins, bloody blond hair hanging down around his face.

"Haven't you heard our legend, King of the Dead?" He slowly, painfully moves to an upright position, his body jerking and snapping, as he corrects his gnarled ligaments and tendons, bones serving as obstructions. Then, a final snap to the back-left with his shoulder, until he smoothly moves into stance. "It's not me believing it, it's your belief that counts."

White jumps at the vampire, over the hole, landing face to face, chest to chest, and then he shoves at him, before he swings his arm up and around and down at the noble blooded fiend, his cane coming in at a diagonal arc.

COMBATSYS: White successfully hits Demitri with Wild Swing.

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White            0/-------/-----==|=======\===----\1          Demitri

"Looks like your belief wasn't strong enough," Demitri grinned, hopping back once White had been slammed into the ground, though he wasn't aware the fighter had softened the fall and thus the blow. "But it's not, I don't have to believe in anything, technically," Demitri corrects him, straightening one of the ruffled cuffs of his suit jacket and cravat while White speaks. Demitri this time is quick enough to put his arms up even as White body checks him--causing him to stumble back. For a moment their faces are uncomfortably close to eachother, Demitri's a cringe and snarl of fangs and ivory white teeth.

As White came down with his arm, Demitri was quick to rush to grab his arm--his body wreathed in prismatic chi, flaring hot as can be.

"The night... she has left me a bit... hungry," the man's visage was already shifting to demonic and cruel, eyes glowing red as he sought to trap White in his magical hex!

COMBATSYS: Demitri successfully hits White with #Midnight Bliss EX#.

[                         \\\\\  < >  ////////////                  ]
White            0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0          Demitri

White's curdled blood flows into Demitri's mouth, as he grinds his teeth, staring Demitri in the eye point blank. His blood has an acerbic flavor beneath the metal-tinged sweetness of normal blood, and it's a heady experience, his life's essence, full of mind-altering substances, a careful balance of chemicals to keep White's damaged mind together.

White prepares the mixture in a laboratory himself, of course, from memory.

As the pair lock amid the hexlines, White produces a low, amused, laughing growl, his hands clapping around Demitri's neck. Even as he's sucked dry, his body feeling as if his lungs are imploding inwards, he elects to fight on desperately.

There's a sharp grip, and then he swings around to hurl Demitri away from him, swinging the vampire's head to one side with a sharp snap, before he hurls over his head and to the side, attempting to send Demitri flying away.

COMBATSYS: Demitri endures White's Vortex Scream.

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White            0/-------/-----==|>------\-------\0          Demitri

Demitri's entire body has now shifted into a bestial, demonic form--cape and suit replaced by leathern wings and body. His mouth is a yawning pit lined with long white needle-like teeth as White's blood is drawn in a torrent through the air into it. All the while White's body would be taking on an emaciated, drawn look--as if he was literally sucked dry by a giant insect.

Demitri roars as he is somehow still picked up and thrown--body crashing into the stage in a wave of debris, parts of the stage and equipment breaking apart around him--slowly rising to his feet afterwards, still demonic.

"I suppose one of must leave this place dead then," Demitri, still in his unreal form stalks forward toward White to deliver one last final, crushing punch!

COMBATSYS: White dodges Demitri's Fierce Punch.

[                         \\\\\  < >  ////////                      ]
White            0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0          Demitri

White drops to his knees, the succor broken, shaking and shuddering and snapping his neck and shoulders with brutal twitching motions.

Unable to continue much longer with the drain to his essence, he watches carefully as the monster approaches him, knowing very well that this could be the last chance he has to seal the monster.

White rolls to the side, narrowly avoiding the fist. Coming to a standing position, he throws a handful of narcotic powder in the air, given shape by telekinetic force and function by Psycho Power. It takes the shape of a large, child's face, the white cloud rolling at Maximoff over the broken stage.

COMBATSYS: Demitri blocks White's Baby Breath.

[                         \\\\\  < >  //////                        ]
White            0/-------/--=====|==-----\-------\0          Demitri

Demitri's face is actually partially sheered off by the psi-power that eminates from White, the vampire partially returning to his more normal, human form--even as blood and bone is revealed beneath the left side of his face, the power blowing past him after cleaving into his cheek.

"I see we'll have to call this one a draw, till next time, mortal~" Demitri's voice begins to check as his entire body disintigrates into what looks like a horde of chittering, screeching bats--all the windows of the establishment blow out at once as the forces of reality bend to the undead man's will--the bats surging outward in a cloud!

COMBATSYS: Demitri can no longer fight.

[                         \\\\\  <
White            0/-------/--=====|

COMBATSYS: Demitri successfully hits White with Improvised Smack.

[                             \  <
White            0/-------/--=====|

White is kicked off his feet by the horde of bats, and flips backwards into the ground on the back of his head and his shoulders. He flips over onto his stomach, legs kicking in the air before he wheels down onto his face. He lays there, unconscious, beaten bloody and drained of his essence.

COMBATSYS: White can no longer fight.

Log created on 16:34:18 11/20/2018 by Demitri, and last modified on 20:38:30 11/20/2018.