03-07-2017, 05:39 AM
Well, this whole thing had gone about as south as a federal marshal in Mexico. His entertainment was currently passed out on the stage, taken out by a stray bottle. There were three other people standing somewhat close together, an orc on the floor, and what looked like a living movie gal right in the doorframe.
Harlan tossed the gun away, where the robotic man scooped it up with his sticky fingers. The vampire shot him a look and growled. "If you're just here to play Boss Tweed at the buffet, then twenty three skidoo. Now, if you want to maybe help these poor kids get out on the street, you can call the doc wagon. I got problems of my own."
He kicked the remaining orc viciously in the side with his wingtips, and looked over at Audrey, motioning her inside. "I suppose I have to you to thank for icing those loutish backups he was so confident were coming?" The woman nodded, blowing a cloud of smoke across the room and clicking forward on her stilettos. Red smoke. Good god, she was familiar. Something about her was at once familiar but also offputting. "Twas a nice, neighborly thing to do, Mister Higgs."
"Excuse us, but we believe you have some ques-" One of the witches began, but was interrupted by a roar from Kirg the Klingon. "You are Higgs? You are insidiously moving into our turf! Westside turf!" He drew a knife, moving it in a complicated pattern, and when he was finished, pointed it at his own breastplate. "This is dishonorable and will not stand!"
Harlan had to fight a laugh and shot the alien man finger guns. "That's absolutely charming. I like that, I really do. You a circus man as well? Do tricks?" Kirg roared and made as if to attack the suited gentleman, but his blue haired compatriots stopped him by waving their own fancy sticks, an invisible force holding his arms back.
"Listen, Higgs. We were like...sent here to investigate this stuff." She holds up a packet of Amaranth. "Chems are Hufflepunks business. You sell 'em, you go through us, dig? Or else Weasel puts the notice out and it's open season on any motherfucker in a doofy suit." Harlan actually clapped his hands together and laughed.
"Wonderful. Strictly business, is it? While I appreciate your attempts to minimize the casualties from Fucky Tusko and his Boys down here," He said, punctuating his words with another rib shattering kick from his wingtip, "This is hardly the place. I have to clean up this fucking mess and run damage control."
At that, a contingent of Jacks burst in the door, guns drawn and looking for action. "Uh, boss, we came as fast as the runner got to us, but uh....them fuckin' orcs is liquified, literally." Audrey waved at them, wiping a bit of blood from her lips. "This classy dame right here is thank for that." Harlan said matter of factly.
The robot man had run out of bodies to loot and was edging out of the broken windows to go loot the orcs outside when Harlan added, "Oh, and introduce mister graverobber here to our famous hospitality. Gently, now." Three of the younger Jacks started to approach him with nefarious intent. "Come on, clink. Boss wants you to come back to the Club."
The Ravnos turned his attention back to the Westsiders. "Like I said, bad place to talk business. The blood is making my teeth itch." He flashed his fangs to punctuate. "In any case? You want this orc trash, he's yours. Him and his gang don't know what box of mints they just opened. And if you want to talk real business regarding Amaranth, or any other serious, respectable issues..."
He gestured with his fingers, a small piece of paper forming from nothing. A ticket, marked with a spiral pattern and a glowing purple cross. "You give your boss that and tell them to meet me in the clouds. If they can." Now all he had to do was try and enter that hole he'd been sensing, permeating through in alleys and wherever people were dreaming.
Harlan tossed the gun away, where the robotic man scooped it up with his sticky fingers. The vampire shot him a look and growled. "If you're just here to play Boss Tweed at the buffet, then twenty three skidoo. Now, if you want to maybe help these poor kids get out on the street, you can call the doc wagon. I got problems of my own."
He kicked the remaining orc viciously in the side with his wingtips, and looked over at Audrey, motioning her inside. "I suppose I have to you to thank for icing those loutish backups he was so confident were coming?" The woman nodded, blowing a cloud of smoke across the room and clicking forward on her stilettos. Red smoke. Good god, she was familiar. Something about her was at once familiar but also offputting. "Twas a nice, neighborly thing to do, Mister Higgs."
"Excuse us, but we believe you have some ques-" One of the witches began, but was interrupted by a roar from Kirg the Klingon. "You are Higgs? You are insidiously moving into our turf! Westside turf!" He drew a knife, moving it in a complicated pattern, and when he was finished, pointed it at his own breastplate. "This is dishonorable and will not stand!"
Harlan had to fight a laugh and shot the alien man finger guns. "That's absolutely charming. I like that, I really do. You a circus man as well? Do tricks?" Kirg roared and made as if to attack the suited gentleman, but his blue haired compatriots stopped him by waving their own fancy sticks, an invisible force holding his arms back.
"Listen, Higgs. We were like...sent here to investigate this stuff." She holds up a packet of Amaranth. "Chems are Hufflepunks business. You sell 'em, you go through us, dig? Or else Weasel puts the notice out and it's open season on any motherfucker in a doofy suit." Harlan actually clapped his hands together and laughed.
"Wonderful. Strictly business, is it? While I appreciate your attempts to minimize the casualties from Fucky Tusko and his Boys down here," He said, punctuating his words with another rib shattering kick from his wingtip, "This is hardly the place. I have to clean up this fucking mess and run damage control."
At that, a contingent of Jacks burst in the door, guns drawn and looking for action. "Uh, boss, we came as fast as the runner got to us, but uh....them fuckin' orcs is liquified, literally." Audrey waved at them, wiping a bit of blood from her lips. "This classy dame right here is thank for that." Harlan said matter of factly.
The robot man had run out of bodies to loot and was edging out of the broken windows to go loot the orcs outside when Harlan added, "Oh, and introduce mister graverobber here to our famous hospitality. Gently, now." Three of the younger Jacks started to approach him with nefarious intent. "Come on, clink. Boss wants you to come back to the Club."
The Ravnos turned his attention back to the Westsiders. "Like I said, bad place to talk business. The blood is making my teeth itch." He flashed his fangs to punctuate. "In any case? You want this orc trash, he's yours. Him and his gang don't know what box of mints they just opened. And if you want to talk real business regarding Amaranth, or any other serious, respectable issues..."
He gestured with his fingers, a small piece of paper forming from nothing. A ticket, marked with a spiral pattern and a glowing purple cross. "You give your boss that and tell them to meet me in the clouds. If they can." Now all he had to do was try and enter that hole he'd been sensing, permeating through in alleys and wherever people were dreaming.
“I don’t wanna be a product of my environment. I want my environment to be a product of me.”