03-07-2017, 10:41 PM
So then a pale skinned guy in a zoot suit came out on the stage and started running the show like some kind of Capone wannabe. Something about tweed? Drake didn't think he'd ever worn tweed ever, once, in his entire life. I mean the general message of 'get the fuck out' was pretty clear so okay. Drake started to finish up with his current corpse and exit the way he came, but then zoot-suit called in a few mooks.
With...tommy guns.
"Whoa, wait, that uh..." Drake gestured helplessly at Harlan, "...guy asked me to leave so I'm leavin'. I'm gone. Easy."
The thugs in cummerbunds just gawked and got closer.
"Boss wants you back inside now. So just trot along, capiche?" one of the mooks said in a thick, twangy accent. Boston? Was that somone's lame attempt at a Boston accent?
That couldn't be right.
No, it was more of a northern-
"Ow!" Drake bitched as one of the suited youths prodded him in the back with the barrel. Alright, fine. Drake trudged back into the Top Kek with a very forced pout on his face. In reality, and as per the norm, he scarcely gave a damn about the situation. It wasn't as if he hadn't been in dozens like it before. They marched him up to the lip of the stage where Harlan lorded over the ruins of the club, full mobster style. Drake kinda chuckled. Harlan noticed.
"So, what's your scoop there crumb? I'm guessing you didn't pay the cover when you waltzed in." Harlan said, idly examining the edges of his fingernails. Drake started blubbering. It was very sad.
"No, wait, bwoss. You gots da wrong guy! It wasn't me it was the one armed man!" Drake said, abruptly looking down at the stump where his right arm should be. He looked back up at Harlan with a sheepish grin.
"Oh."
Harlan offered a polite smile and nodded his head. One of the Hufflepunks legit laughed and everyone shot her a dirty look.
"Listen. Here's the skinny Jimbo. If you're hurting for cabbage that bad, you feel free to roll with me and my boys. We got lots of spare suits-"
"Not while Westside claims these streets!" Interjected the Klingon. No one paid attention.
"-in the back. Why not roll with the real wise guys? Otherwise I can get you a nice Chicago Overcoat, I'm sure." Harlan said, waving his own death threat away with a dismissive hand. Drake just gawked at Harlan for a moment.
"Oh my god you actually talk like that." Drake said. The Hufflepunk girl snickered again and Drake ripped his plasma derringer out of his pocket, pointing it directly in the girl's face.
"Laugh again! Laugh again! Go on laugh it up you bwitch!" Drake shouted. The Hufflepunkette reached for her wand but Drake's right eye twitched in a very unsettling way and she thought better of it. "By the way, real quick on the draw there kiddos." the smuggler said, glancing back at the suits who had renewed the grip on their guns.
"Actually as long as I have my gun out I do have one question for the uh...doll?" Drake said, nodding at the grayscale lady. The chiaroscuro woman offered him a small kiss with her black lips. Drake offered a friendly smile back.
"So when you poop is it also-"
Drake didn't get to finish his sentence, since next thing he knew he was sprawled halfway across the club, face up. Someone grabbed him by the lapels, and Drake found himself face to face with Harlan.
"...and this one..." Harlan hissed, pounding the secondary in the gut.
"...is for making me TOUCH you. Now genius..." Harlan said, holding Drake aloft, whispering into the smuggler's disfigured ears, "...give me one good reason why I shouldn't have my 'kiddos' toss some lead your way."
Drake coughed up just a little bit of blood (just a little bit, I swear) and grinned over Harlan's shoulder.
"Because...you wouldn't want me to embarrass you in your own bar." Drake said with a growing chuckle. Harlan started laughing too. The warmth of Drake's neck so close to his teeth was making him twitchy.
"Oh yeah? And how do you propose to do that?" the vampire said flatly.
"Ever been hit by a flying motorcycle?"
"...what?"
"Clench your butt."
In the next instant, Drake had planted his feet on Harlans chest and pushed off as Drake's Tetrion skybike came crashing through the front door. The smuggler completed the somersault by landing flawlessly in the Tetrion's saddle, while the bike's nose smashed Harlan like a battering ram. Wind and noise blared into the confines of the bar as Drake cranked the accelerator and wheeled the black skybike back out through the entrance.
"I am actually interested in that whole job thing by the way 'kay thanks bye!" Drake shouted, just as machine gun fire began to rip open the air around him. A blast of hot engine wash, and the smuggler was gone, the engines of his Tetrion fading into normal subdued chaos of the Tier 5 nightlife...
With...tommy guns.
"Whoa, wait, that uh..." Drake gestured helplessly at Harlan, "...guy asked me to leave so I'm leavin'. I'm gone. Easy."
The thugs in cummerbunds just gawked and got closer.
"Boss wants you back inside now. So just trot along, capiche?" one of the mooks said in a thick, twangy accent. Boston? Was that somone's lame attempt at a Boston accent?
That couldn't be right.
No, it was more of a northern-
"Ow!" Drake bitched as one of the suited youths prodded him in the back with the barrel. Alright, fine. Drake trudged back into the Top Kek with a very forced pout on his face. In reality, and as per the norm, he scarcely gave a damn about the situation. It wasn't as if he hadn't been in dozens like it before. They marched him up to the lip of the stage where Harlan lorded over the ruins of the club, full mobster style. Drake kinda chuckled. Harlan noticed.
"So, what's your scoop there crumb? I'm guessing you didn't pay the cover when you waltzed in." Harlan said, idly examining the edges of his fingernails. Drake started blubbering. It was very sad.
"No, wait, bwoss. You gots da wrong guy! It wasn't me it was the one armed man!" Drake said, abruptly looking down at the stump where his right arm should be. He looked back up at Harlan with a sheepish grin.
"Oh."
Harlan offered a polite smile and nodded his head. One of the Hufflepunks legit laughed and everyone shot her a dirty look.
"Listen. Here's the skinny Jimbo. If you're hurting for cabbage that bad, you feel free to roll with me and my boys. We got lots of spare suits-"
"Not while Westside claims these streets!" Interjected the Klingon. No one paid attention.
"-in the back. Why not roll with the real wise guys? Otherwise I can get you a nice Chicago Overcoat, I'm sure." Harlan said, waving his own death threat away with a dismissive hand. Drake just gawked at Harlan for a moment.
"Oh my god you actually talk like that." Drake said. The Hufflepunk girl snickered again and Drake ripped his plasma derringer out of his pocket, pointing it directly in the girl's face.
"Laugh again! Laugh again! Go on laugh it up you bwitch!" Drake shouted. The Hufflepunkette reached for her wand but Drake's right eye twitched in a very unsettling way and she thought better of it. "By the way, real quick on the draw there kiddos." the smuggler said, glancing back at the suits who had renewed the grip on their guns.
"Actually as long as I have my gun out I do have one question for the uh...doll?" Drake said, nodding at the grayscale lady. The chiaroscuro woman offered him a small kiss with her black lips. Drake offered a friendly smile back.
"So when you poop is it also-"
Drake didn't get to finish his sentence, since next thing he knew he was sprawled halfway across the club, face up. Someone grabbed him by the lapels, and Drake found himself face to face with Harlan.
"...and this one..." Harlan hissed, pounding the secondary in the gut.
"...is for making me TOUCH you. Now genius..." Harlan said, holding Drake aloft, whispering into the smuggler's disfigured ears, "...give me one good reason why I shouldn't have my 'kiddos' toss some lead your way."
Drake coughed up just a little bit of blood (just a little bit, I swear) and grinned over Harlan's shoulder.
"Because...you wouldn't want me to embarrass you in your own bar." Drake said with a growing chuckle. Harlan started laughing too. The warmth of Drake's neck so close to his teeth was making him twitchy.
"Oh yeah? And how do you propose to do that?" the vampire said flatly.
"Ever been hit by a flying motorcycle?"
"...what?"
"Clench your butt."
In the next instant, Drake had planted his feet on Harlans chest and pushed off as Drake's Tetrion skybike came crashing through the front door. The smuggler completed the somersault by landing flawlessly in the Tetrion's saddle, while the bike's nose smashed Harlan like a battering ram. Wind and noise blared into the confines of the bar as Drake cranked the accelerator and wheeled the black skybike back out through the entrance.
"I am actually interested in that whole job thing by the way 'kay thanks bye!" Drake shouted, just as machine gun fire began to rip open the air around him. A blast of hot engine wash, and the smuggler was gone, the engines of his Tetrion fading into normal subdued chaos of the Tier 5 nightlife...
And, we dream of home I dream of life out of here Their dreams are small My dreams don't know fear I got my heart full of hope I will change everything No matter what I'm told How impossible it seems We did it before And we'll do it again We're indestructible Even when we're tired And we've been here before Just you and I
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued