Looking out from the doorway that leads to Lotte's office (or, in the case of Sam, who is just heading downstairs, from a vantage point at the top of the staircase) anyone who is interested can see a number of rough looking thugs striding into the room. The first is a huge - impossibly huge - man with arms and legs like tree trunks, massive gnarled hands, no neck, and beady porcine eyes. He wears huge boots and has lengths of chain wrapped around both meaty hands. The second, who has a pentagram tattooed on his forehead, is carrying a large, spiked club. The third, who has a pentagram tattooed on his left cheek, is wearing spiked brass knuckles on each hand. The fourth, who sports a wild hairdo somehow reminiscent of an escapee from "Kiss", is carrying two large fighting knives, and whisps of green vapor seep from his nose and mouth. He is also holding a chain which attaches to a nose ring on the fifth, whom astute characters will recognize as the guy they saw earlier spray painting outside the building (particularly astute characters will realize that he didn't have a nose ring before - the blood coming out of his nose will confirm that this is a recent addition). As number four enters he gives a savage jerk on the chain, causing number 5 to scream.
"Well?" says number four, hissing slightly and exuding more of the green vapor.
"Th... there, oh Blessed Frog Breath" says number five, pointing at Harvey. "That one! He tried to EAUGH!" number five screams again as Blessed Frog Breath twists the ring in his nose.
"The other?" he hisses, breathing green mist directly into number five's face. Number five screams again.
"I... I don't see him! I d... AARGH...!" number five does not get to finish as Blessed Frog Breath rams his head into the nearest wall.
"How dare you sully my ears with your voice, filthy Cursed." Blessed Frog Breath says, kicking the supine form.
"Oh shit," says Jonny (who is on the staircase) again.
"How can you treat a fellow human being like that?" Ingar asks quietly, calmly and indignantly.
Another figure walks in. Dressed in black leather, and looks a bit like Alistair Crowley, only younger. His eyes are infinitely deep and commanding, and he carries no visible weaponry, though he wears studded leather like his compatriots. When he speaks, his voice commands attention.
"I am Avan Bloodlord, favored of Satan and leader of the Glorious Lords. Know that Satan, Prince of Darkness is displeased that you have attacked one of his minions," he motions to the semi-conscious and whimpering form of number 5 on the floor, "and commands the blood of all in this building as compensation. However, I have other things to do today, so though I am neither merciful nor generous if you simply hand over that one," he points to Harvey, "and the other involved in this attack, we shall be on our way. Ms. Ashwari, I am disappointed that you are harboring such people. Consider your monthly tithe to the Lightbringer doubled from this point on." He waves a hand airily. "Be grateful I do not demand the heart's blood of some of your children as well."
Although he doesn't move his head, Leo's eyes slide to rest on Sam, up at the top of the stairs. He hopes fervently that the children will stay upstairs and out of harm's way. He looks back at the self-styled Bloodlord, acutely conscious of the throwing knives strapped to his forearms and ankles. Looks like a fight is likely to break out soon. He slides another sideways look, this time at Goodness -- the man had shuriken AND a gun earlier...
Then he feels like something just got stuck in his throat. Victoria. Satanists. Was Souster pimping kids to Satanists?
Sunuvabitch -- must -- pay.
Harvey listens to this little speech with a look of incomprehension on his face, "Avan Bloodlord" he says, "Bloodlord?" His expression becomes a mixture of fear and incredulity. "Is this some kind of protection racket?" he asks to no-one in particular.
"SHUT UP YOU AND GET OVER HERE!" screams Blessed Frog Breath in response to Harvey's muttered comments. Such is the strength and intimidating nature of the command that Harvey actually takes a step forward before coming to his senses.
"Don't let them bully you around, my friend!" Ingar says warmly to Harvey.
Chris stays behind Ingar, which is always the best place to be regardless of circumstances. He looks down the hallway towards the back of the building for a way out. "Ah, Ingar, perhaps they will listen to you."
Chris sees a large door at the end of the hallway, but there is no "Exit" sign or anything over it. It might be an exit, or it might lead to the wood shed. Without talking to anyone and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible Chris casually walks to the door and tries to open it. It appears to have been nailed shut years ago and painted over. The doorknob is stuck. Sufficient strength, perseverance, or tools might get it open, but not quietly and not quickly. Maybe Inger could gnaw through it.
The Scandinavian, who totally lacks an attitude (and a spine, for that matter), but makes up for it by slouching in a rather unsettling way, smiles a large, brittle and toothy smile at Aleister Junior, and gazes at him with his own, deep, bright blue, bovine orbs, saying: "Hi, Mr Avan Bloodlord! I'm sorry that we meet under such circumstances. You would not happen to be a relative of the Norwegian Bloddrott-family, now would you? At any rate, I must say that your demands are rather unreconcilable with our group's implicit norms, that this gentleman (he nods towards Harvey) is my personal friend, and that you may furthermore find me lacking in the blood department, but I still hope that if we talk things over for a bit, we will be able to work out an acceptable compromise."
Ingar's body seems to swell and grow somewhat as he speaks. Mindful of Goodness and his gun, he tries not fill the doorway too much, keeping to one side of it.
Avan Bloodlord does not appear to be particularly impressed by Ingar. "I have already compromised in requiring only the lives of those who wronged the Glorious Lords. If you seek additional concessions then you seek in vain. Give them to us and this matter will be settled. Refuse and you will suffer." He crosses his arms and waits with the air of a man who has said all he is going to say. His compatriots look menacing, each according to his build and armaments.
Ingar shifts uneasily, and tries to square his shoulders. An operation made difficult by not really having any. He pulls at the neckline of his plastic slip. Looks at Avan again, he lets his arms fall limply along his sides. Or rather, tries; they do not really stretch out, rather, they squirm slightly like drugged snakes held by the tail. His posture is growin increasingly semicircular, standing with head and feet foremost, arch and yet he retains approximately the same height.
"There, there. I can understand that you are angry. I would be angry, too. To be perfectly honest..."
"I am not angry," replies Avan Bloodlord evenly. The really large guy determines that this is a properly dramatic moment and lets out another bellow that shakes dust from the doorframes and rattles tooth fillings. Avan gestures in his direction with one hand. "Were I angry I would already have unleashed the wrath of the Prince of Darkness upon you and this building would be drowned in your blood. I seek only those who have wronged me. But as I have stated once, I have other things to do today. Turn them over to me before I decide that it is simply quicker and easier to kill you all and take what I want."
* * *
Woofard, curious as to the dangerous seeming sounds coming from downstairs, follows Sam as far as the landing, with a last look at the girls to make sure they are ok, and this isn't a deversion so these people can steal them away or something. He looks at the scene a moment, before saying to Sam in a very quiet voice, "I'll bet Mr Monster takes the Satan Squad easy, I'll even give ya 3 to one odds."
Sam looks over down at Woofard and says, "What do you mean by 'easy'?" Turning back from the landing Mr Dart approaches Ms. Smith once more. "So it seems the truth has come out at last. You and your satan worshipping cohorts are pimping these little girls out, is that it?"
Ms Smith is momentarily speechless at the accusation. "What?" she says at last.
Marda takes a different tack and asks, with the angelic disposition which only a child of radically different actual behavior patterns can assume, "Maybe it's time you told us what is going on and why the bad devil-man came here."
"I have no idea!" replies Ms. Smith. "They are bad people Marda, but we pay them money so that they will keep other bad people from bothering the children. One hundred dollars every month. Now it sounds like we'll have to pay $200. I don't know how we'll afford that.
"Ms. Smith can I bum a cigarette or at least a match?" asks Sam. "I might have a way of encouraging our little friends downstairs to leave."
"I don't smoke," says Ms. Smith.
Tata searches through the lint in his pockets and the room for a pack of matches or a lighter. He then makes a flying leap, skipping 5 or 6 stairs at a time until he reaches the little room where he keeps his 'little secret'.
* * *
"Get thee behind me, Doctor," mutters Buttery Goodness to Harvey.
Harvey moves ever so carefully behind Goodness, he waits for the outcome of the financial negotiations and tries to look for any avenues of escape.
The agent draws his gun and moves into Bloodlord's sight, leveling the barrel at the stranger's head. "Oy, Goth-Boy an' the Angst-Wankers! Hairvey ain't goin' nowhere wi' ye." The Scotsman furrows his brow, turning his pistol grip back and forth in a slightly-less-than-stable fashion. "I been threatened, hit, kicked, shot at, dropped on, threatened some moor, slapped aroond, an' I lost m' prostitute. I'm in a Real Bad Mood, an' I haven't even been able t' bowl a proper ten frame. Now step the fuck off afore I ventilate the lot o'you!" He cocks the trigger on the pistola.
While Goodness's words of greeting and waved firearm provide a focus for everyone's attention, Leo discreetly flexes his forearms to loosen the throwing knives from their leather holsters, and swipes the container of non-dairy creamer that sits near the coffee pot.
The very large Glorious Lord takes a single step towards Goodness, opening his mouth to utter another bellow of anger, but Avan Bloodlord restrains him with no more than a quick gesture. Avan looks Goodness squarely in the eye, clearly completely unafraid of the gun.
"Your debauchery difficulties are not my problem," he says calmly, but coldly. "If you have been on the island long enough to aquire one of those," he nods at the gun, "then you should have been here long enough to have heard of us. Are you REALLY interested in having the sort of problems that we WILL cause you if you stand in our way. Leave us those we seek. Turn and walk away, and you will awaken tomorrow with your heart still in your chest, not dangling before your eyes. I grow weary of this. Go. This is your final opportunity."
At the Bloodlord's words, Ingar speculates briefly as to whether anybody except him habitually wakes up to notice that cherished inner organs have ectoprolapsed during sleep and are scattered around the bed, having to be meticulously stuffed back into the body cavity before one is fit to see company or even do anything much around the house. He determines that this is in all likelihood not the case, and bristles at yet another threat made at a cherished friend, swelling a bit more. He tries to keep this from jostling or otherwise interfering with Agent Goodness.
Chris strides back to stand behind Ingar, still the best place to be (unless he just ate some greasy Italian) if you have to be near him at all. "Excuse me Mister Bloodlord, would you take a donation to your club in leiu of disfiguring my companions?"
Avan does not respond, but it is clear that Chris's statement has captured at least a bit of his attention (though he is not so foolish as to ignore the guy with the gun). He motions slightly with one hand, indicating that Chris should continue.
"I'm sure that we could come up with around a hundred dollars between us; that should repair the damage, eh?"
Avan does not look particularly impressed by that offer, but does not immediately order Blessed Frog Breath and the rest to rip Chris limb from limb either. Instead he simply locks eyes with Chris, his gaze seeming to burn its way past Chris's eyes to rattle around in his brain. Avan raises one eyebrow questioningly.
Having been subject to attempted intimidation by the best plus having many Ingar moments under his lobe plus being mostly not sane at the moment, Chris is not cowed by this lock the eyes thing.
But he does say "Two-fifty?"
"Three thousand," replies Avan Bloodlord calmly. The big guy guy grumbles. Blessed Frog Breath grins, allowing whisps of greenish vapor to escape from his lips like perverted cigarette smoke. The other two just glower.
Chris is losing patience now. Despite his protestations otherwise, Avan Bloodlord is not.
"That piece of shit isn't worth fifty cents," Chris says, pointing at scumpunk. "Three hundred. Final" Tingling through his body is something that he has tried very hard to suppress in the year since his retirement. Its return is welcomed.
"Cursed Steamer is nothing. His life is worth nothing. He exists at the pleasure of our Lord Satan. What you pay for is the dishonor you have done to the Glorious Lords and our dark master," replies Bloodlord.
At about this point Sam comes bounding down the stairs 5 or 6 at a time, past the surprised Jonny. One of the Glorious Lords (the one with the spiked knuckles) turns in a single fluid motion, almost too swift to follow, and moves to intercept like a striking cobra.
"BLESSED SLAG!" says Bloodlord in a commanding voice, without taking his eyes off those in front of him The thug stops almost literally in mid stride as Sam continues his bounding decent unmolested.
"I have not yet given you leave to kill," says Bloodlord. "$2500. An inexpensive price for your heart's blood I think."
Chris grits his teeth. "Five-hundred and a digital camera, so you can take snap shots of your club meetings and barbeques."
"Good job, tata," says Woofard to himself, "Shove a can of Ex-Splodio's right down Lord Dracula's smarmy pie-hole." He tries to figure out if he should go down there as well. He decides not to yet. If Alister down there isn't intimidated by Secret Agent Man shoving a cannon up his nose, he didn't figure an angery dog would throw the scales over much. But an angry dog jumping into the middle of a fight might be a bit more effective. He watched the developments below anxiously.
Sam continues his run and dissapears into the room where his little suprise is. He then tries to find a place to hide himself in order to catch his breath for a few moments and listen.
A bit late, the significance of Sam's little run dawns on Leo. That box, earlier -- didn't Sam say he was carrying a...?
Bomb...?
Leo shoot a quick glance at his companions, then returns his gaze to the self-styled Glorious Lords, alert for any hints that the brawl is about to begin. And then he looks again in the direction where Sam was last seen. Surely Sam wouldn't bomb a school full of children? Naaahh...
And in the back of his mind, Leo tries to estimate what a dermatologist's income may be. If Harvey is a doctor, wouldn't this $2500 be pocket change to him? He started this, after all. Leo has only a very tenuous grasp on what incomes in the six digits and more can represent in practical terms -- he's usually happy if he can afford all the basic necessities.
Still silent, he holds his ground, looking much like like a long thin rubber band stretched and about to snap back.
Goodness sighs. Out of the frying pan... "Look," he says to Avan, "No one is dootin' the obvious strength o' the Gloorious Loords. An' we really airen't looking fer a fight. I'm sure we ken come to an agreement. What if we give ye somethin' even moor valuable than Hairvey or his cash equivalent? Would that satisfy Compton?"
Bloodlord turns his gaze away from Chris, and back towards Goodness. "This has nothing to do with Sir Arthur Compton, it is a matter for the Glorious Lords alone to handle. But I am always willing to entertain reasonable offers. However, I have little remaining patience. Make your offer."
Harvey says quietly to Goodness "you know, I can pay if it's necessary, although I don't have it on me. I don't want people getting hurt on my account."
Meanwhile, Tata tries to find an escape route out of one of the many boarded up windows. Certainly possible, but it will take time and make noise - Sam would have to kick the boards off the window. Instead, he grabs an old box and shoves his goody in it, then makes another break for the stairs. Once he gets to the top he shouts down, "Hey, If you dorks start killing each other down there do you mind if we evacuate the children first?"
Avan Bloodlord looks up and smiles serenely (it produces a lesser version of what happens when Ingar smiles serenely). "Of course I do. In fact should you be so foolish as to resist it I will make certain that Blessed Bellow here," he indicates the large one, "proceeds directly up the stairway and kills as many as possible."
Ingar snorts and grimaces neurotically. His swollen, disfigured body grows more agitated, his garbage-bag billows slightly as -things- that Man was not meant to know begins to twitch and twist with excitement all over the front of his abdomen, most pronouncedly at the crotch.
Whereas the Scandinavian psychotherapist-gone-vigilante out-monsters any of the thugs present in terms of sheer size and freakiness, a truly jaded and yet perceptive observer, such as (probably) Avan Bloodlord, would come to wonder whether said Scandinavian is more likely to attack or to be overcome with emotion and beat his head uselessly against a wall.
"By the way," continues Sam, "which one of you sick b*#$%rds did a little girl last night and dumped her on our doorstep?" While he keeps up the patter, he glances around for a means of egress on the second floor. Sam has not yet availed himself of the opportunity to examine the upper story windows from the inside. From the outside they looked pretty much like the lower story windows.
Avan ignores this comment entirely, returning his attention to Goodness. "I am waiting," he says. "I will not wait much longer. Make your offer or turn over your companions."
Unlike Avan, Blessed Slag keeps his attention riveted on the stairway. He shivers a bit, like a hound on a leash who sees a rabbit.
Goodness sighs, sensing that no one else is going to be coming up with a brilliant plan. "Me," says Goodness to Avan. "The offer is me. Take me t' yer leader, Bloodloord. I got somethin' tha Sir Airthur's never seen in 'is wildest dreams."
Harvey fumbles quietly with his cattle prod behind Goodness' back, turning it on again. This accomplished, he says in a loud and trying-to-seem-confident-but-with-an-edge-of-fear voice: "Goodness, it's me they want, I don't want anyone sacrificing themselves for me." Harvey then steps out from behind Goodness, trying not to look like a scared fat man holding a cattleprod.
"Ms. Smith," says Sam, "it seems there is about to be a major threat to your children from those satan worshipping dipsticks downstairs. Is there a fire escape from the second story?" Sam kneels down and involuntarially pets Woofard and Marda, looking at a very nicely built explosive device. Occassionaly, glancing up at Ms. Smith to see if she has connected the situation to the threat.
Ms. Smith, who is still a bit wary of Sam after having been accused of selling children to satanists recently, scowls at him. "No," she says after a moment (without doubt spent trying to figure out what Sam is up to and whether it is more dangerous to tell him or not to tell him). We used to have one, but someone pulled it down and sold it for scrap metal."
Downstairs, Avan Bloodlord smirks slightly at Goodness's offer. "How uninformative - and wearying. Perhaps a show of resolve is in order. Blessed Bellow, Blessed Break Bones," he says, pointing towards Jonny on the stairs (but without taking his eyes off Goodness), "crush that one."
Blessed Bellow and Blessed Break Bones (the guy with the big spiked club) begin moving towards the stairway, grinning.
"Oh SHIT!" says Jonny again. As if by magic two knives appear in his hands. Jonny is clearly rattled, but stands his ground.
"Jonny, RUN!" yells Ms. Ashwari.
"OK SUCKERS! LETS PARTY!" Jonny shouts defiantly.
"And aboot time, too," mutters Goodness. He aims his gun and fires off two rounds, aiming for Break Bones' chestal area. "Stupid dick. I was na goin anywhere wi' ye, anyway."
Ingar crouches down in a fairly reptilian fashion, trying to keep ready to attack any prospective assailant of Goodness or Harvey, without interfering with any of his companions' line of fire. His entire body (except his back) is rippling with the contained hunger of countless voracious tentacle-mouths, but he has not ruined another set of clothes quite yet. He keeps a mouthful of such tentacles ready, looking very much as if he is about to vomit.
Sam glares at Ms. Smith. "Ok, lady. I just wanted to warn you since I'm about to blow this place to hell with this little BOMB here. You see thats my job. Blowing up shit. I should have realized you didnt care about these kids after what happend to Victoria." Sam stands back up, having is thoughts rattled by the indominable Ms. Smith.
Ms. Smith ponders the odd contradiction of "I am going to set off a bomb in the middle of a crowded school" and "you don't care about these kids." But since Sam, based on his dress and actions, strikes her as being the sort not given to reasonable persuasive techniques (i.e. as a raving madman) and she isn't exactly a skilled combatant she decides that direct confrontation would probably not turn out in her favor, and that there is only one course of action open to her.
"JONNY, HELP! THERE'S A MADMAN WITH A BOMB UP HERE!" she screams at the top of her lungs, at the same time placing her frail body between Sam and the room where Victoria and Marda are.
"I'M KINDA BUSY MS. SMITH," Jonny yells back over one shoulder.
Tata turns to Marda "Honey, you've got to help Ms Smith here understand whats going on. I dont think she likes me very much. Try and get her to get the kids out of the school before the badmen come up here to hurt them."
Marda hears Sam's plea and immediately goes about a plan of action. It occurs to her fairly quickly that this Skool place is an organization in which the traditional adult-child power relationship is rigorously observed, and that she might not have the time available to explain Tata's eminent suitability as her guardian. Most adults are not as well-attuned to these attributes as children were. Most adults are also not very open to logical argument when simultaneously threatened with explosive devices. (She knows that last one from experience.)
So Marda instead immediately goes into jury-rig mode with the intention of creating an avenue of escape for Teddy, herself, Woofard, and any other party potentially interested in the concept of self-preservation. Her first impulse is to check out the ventilation system, or whatever passes for it here. Her second (which comes upon hearing Sam's last comment about leaving him naked in the hotel room and the logical implication that these were the parties involved in Teddy's attempted ritual sacrifice) is to go down there and send the men to the Bad Place Where Little Girls Who Enter Into Restricted Areas Go When They Are Terminated. But she tries very very hard to resist impulse number two for the time being.
Blessed Break Bones heads up the stairs towards Jonny, grinning an evil grin and waving his spiked club in a most menacing manner. Behind him, Blessed Bellow lowers his head and begins to puff like a steam engine going up a steep grade, and lumbers in his wake. Goodness rounds on the pair, whipping out his pistol and firing two shots at Breakbone's upper torso. Both shots miss the first going wild and thudding into the far wall, the second ricocheting off one of the large spikes of Break Bone's club. Break Bones, dives for the nearest cover (which happens to be the space behind the stairs).
As Goodness lines up for another shot, Blessed Slag flows across the intervening distance like water, his movement no more than a blur. Goodness barely manages to sidestep a punch to the throat that would have sunk some two inch spikes into his windpipe, and finds himself fighting for his life against blows that seem to come from all directions at once.
Avan Bloodlord, seeing that the balloon has gone up, merely folds his arms and observes the scene with keen attenton.
Leo (noting Harvey coming up on the other side) dances past the Goodness/Slag fight and tries to put a throwing knife into Bellow's neck The throw is good, the target too big to miss, but somehow, in his flexing and shuffling stride, Bellow manages to flex and shuffle just enough to get out of the knife's path, so instead it imbeds itself in the stairs near Jonny.
"Watch it mutha!" Jonny screams.
Marda vaults onto the railing and from there makes a prodigious leap that allows her to grab hold of the cover of the nearest ventilation duct. Said cover comes away easily, (being held on with one nail, as it turns out, but even her mighty kidlike abilities do not allow Marda to wiggle around in time to avoid falling back to the floor with said cover, hitting the ground with a mighty crash that would surely alert all adult eyes in the area to her shenanigans if they weren't too busy watching Blessed Bellow prepare to reduce Jonny to chopped meat.
Blessed Frog Breath, seeking to protect Blessed Bellow, leaps at Leo. Instead of attacking with his fighting knives, the Glorious Lord releases a cloud of choking, burning green gas from his mouth - halitosis from hell! Leo staggers back, eyes nose and lungs burning, as Blessed Frog Breath chuckles and closes in.
Sam trundles down the stairs, holding his bomb in one hand and a bic lighter in the other, screaming "Ok, who wants do die today? You boys eager to meet your master? Well here is your chance, if you DON'T leave know." Mr. Dart flicks his Bictm and holds it about 6 inches from the fuse. "I hope your fire insurance is paid up, assholes.<Muahahahaha> This is for tying my ass up and leaving me naked at the damn hotel. I hope you havn't forgotten since I havn't."
Most of the Glorious Lords are already involved in a fight at the moment, and so are not in much position to react. Bellow is a bit too stupid to really comprehend big words like 'today' and 'chance', and is a bit too wrapped up in his current orders to crush Jonny to really pay much attention to the threats being offered, but is quite happy that there is another target on the stairs at the moment. Avan Bloodlord just smiles, as though he finds Sam's statement somehow amusing.
Leo has never, ever entered a fight with the intention to deal anything but disabling blows, and that only out of necessity. He certainly has never begun with his first move aimed at an adversary's vital points. But he has never been in a fight with Satanists willing to kill a bystander for PR value.
Nor has he ever been in a fight where one of the "good guys" is brandishing live explosives in an elementary school. "Goddamnit, Sam, no!" he yells. He takes long running strides towards the stairs where all the action is converging, and whips out a Hibben Lightning Bolt.
Jonny, hearing Sam come down the stairs, and remembering Ms. Smith's warning, is torn between attacking the mad man with the bomb and the hulking monster approaching him up the stairs. But Jonny is, at heart, a man of action and resolves to go at the big guy head on and hope that the idiot with the bomb doesn't set it off quite yet. "Let's se yo shit muthafucka!" he yells, leaping at Bellow with both knives. But Bellow is faster than he looks (or, in this case, luckier than he looks) and manages to fend off the attack with no more than a shallow cut to one forearm.
"Oh shit," says Jonny, deciding that he probably won't have to be worrying about that alleged bomb after all
Break Bones, having had a couple of slugs fired at him, reassesses the situation from beneath the stairs.
Harvey, stepping around Goodness, attempts to hit the elusive Blessed Slag with his cattle prod, but Slag's uncanny speed and timing allow him to dodge every blow. Chris steps up on Slag's other side attempting to hem the wily Glorious Lord in, but even facing three opponents Slag manages to get himself out of the way of Chris's blade as well as Harvey's cattle prod.
Blessed Bellow pauses just long enough to stare at the thin cut on his arm before slamming a chain wrapped fist into Jonny's face. There is a sickening crunch of bone and teeth as Jonny's face is driven into his brain and both eyes knocked completely out of their sockets. Jonny's body cartwheels up the steps as if shot from a catapult to land in a bloody, untidy heap next to Woofard, Marda, and Ms. Smith. Blessed Bellow howls in triumph and turns his beady eyes expectantly on Sam.
Seeing that the 'lesser minions" are out of the way, Ingar too moves around the growing Slag/Goodness/Wilson/Finklebaum fight and lumbers in the direction of Avan Bloodlord who watches him approach with some mild interest. Whatever fearsome aura it is that Ingar can project seems totally ineffective on the leader of the Glorious Lords, so instead he opts for the direct approach, vomiting a mouthful of tentacles from his mouth at Avan, while simultaneously releasing another horde, like a nest of striking vipers, from his chest and abdomen. Avan bursts into motion, sidestepping the attack and moving around to sledgehammer an elbow directly into where Ingar's neck would join his body (if he in fact had a neck - but soft tissue damage still counts, right?) There is a horrible squishing and what sounds, to those around, like a high pitched scream (rather like the sounds that shrimp make when you throw them in boiling water), and Ingar begins to feel warm ichor leaking down his back and soaking into his jacket. Avan balances on the balls of his feet just out of reach, still smiling. He makes a "come hither" motion with one hand.
Elanore Smith and Lotte Ashwari both scream "JONNY!"
Blessed Slag launches a series of lightning fast punches at Goodness' face, but these turn out to be just a feint as he puts his full weight behind a snap kick at the plucky Scottsman's gun arm. Goodness manages to swing his arm out of the way just in time to avoid the blow and Blessed Slag curses.
Avan Bloodlord is in and out of Ingar's tentacle range before the Norwegian psychologist even registers that he has moved. One foot lashes out in a leg sweep as he goes past, with an elbow strike to the spine (or where the spine ought to be) for good measure. Unfortunately, the unusual nature of Ingar's physiognomy (his backwards knees, for example) conspires to thwart the main of the attack, and though Ingar suffers another blow its impact is considerably lessened from the previous one. As he spins to face his attacker again Avan continues to appear relaxed and confident, though a genuine smile plays across his features. "Not bad," he comments. "You may prove to be amusing."
Blessed Frog Breath follows up on his attack upon Leo with a slashing knife thrust aimed at the kidneys. Despite the burning in his eyes and sinuses, and the light headedness that makes him wobble, the circus performer deftly avoids the cut through the simple expedient of falling on the floor like a broken puppet.
Marda wails (since she is wailing until Sam gets there, we will leave her to her wailing for the moment).
Leo, having gotten a good lungful of air, bounds (or staggers) to his feet and makes a grab for Goodness' pocket (there really ought to be some good dialogue here, but I am not going to write it - Ed). Plunging in one hand he manages to snag Goodness' lighter. One lungful of air isn't enough to escape the wrath of Frogbreath however, and Leo still feels woozy.
Sam backs frantically up the steps in the face of a Blessed-Bellow shaped armageddon, waving the lighter under the fuse. "Stop loser! Or I'll shove this baby up your rear and send you straight to your master. Now BACK OFF!" This has no appreciable influence on Bellow, but it does serve to make Sam feel better about himself. Maybe.
What DOES seem to affect Bellow is the launch of Woofard from the top landing. Woofard tenses and leaps past Sam and throws all his weight on the back of the guy that had killed Jonny. Only upon impact does he start snarling like a maniac rabid wolf from Hell, the kind of snarls that would have Cujo giving up his kibble. The Akita sinks his teeth into Bellow's shoulder and begins clawing at the thick leather jacket, drawing blood and causing Blessed Bellow to, you guessed it, bellow in rage!
Sam, now at the top of the stairs puts down his surprise and addresses Marda (I know that I am leaving some stuff out here, but there is a limit to what I can cram into a 3-second combat round - Ed) <in a clear and quiet voice> "...can you get the kids from their classroom and I will help them into the ventilation shaft. Then you can lead them out of here. OK?"
Marda finally shakes herself from her fit and starts running into the first classroom, which happens to be full of older students (older meaning somewhere between 8 and 10) telling whatever students there of the plan to get out through the ventilation shaft (ignoring whatever adults happen to be there.)
"Elinor!" screams Lotte, "Bar the doors in the classrooms! Tell Samuel!" She turns and runs for her office.
"Engar!" bellows Goodness. With practiced ease, the Scotsman reaches into his pocket and whips out a throwing star, finally bringing one of his skills to bear upon the situation. He flips his powerful wrist, sending the pointy object toward Avan Bloodlord's stinky head, aiming for an eyeball. "Come an' get some, ye greet goon!" The shuriken hisses past Bloodlord's head, missing by inches. (Perhaps the stink deflects it?)
Simultaneously, Blessed Break Bones breaks from behind the stairs and heads for Chris, swinging his spiked club. At the same time Chris takes a swing at the elusive Blessed Slag's hands, looking to slice some tendons. Break Bones scores only a glancing hit on Chris - the the force is enough to rattle his teeth. Slag proves as elusive as previously, and manages to dance away from Chris's slashing attack.
Bellow, screaming with rage, attempts to dislodge the Akita from his back by hurling himself down the stairs. Woofard tries to squirm out of the way but the staircase flies up to bat him off Bellow's back as they both tumble back down to the ground floor (barely missing Harvey) once again to land in an untidy heap. (Both are prone).
Ingar performs a combination of lunge and waddle towards Avan, spreading his tentacles wide and trying to gauge his opponent - relying on his massive millenia-long memory to dredge up a trick that might work against a recalcitrant ape. Avan is fast, very fast, but the distraction provided by Goodness' shuriken is just barely sufficient to allow Ingar to lay a tentacle on him, ripping a deep gash in his left cheek before the leader of the Glorious Lords can rebound out of reach again.
Avan smiles once more.
Elinor turns and hobbles down the hallway in the direction of her classroom. As she does she yells into the room that Marda just entered "Samuel, there's trouble! Bolt the doors!"
Harvey just stands on the stairs, cattle prod forgotten, watching Woofard and Bellow hurtle past on their way to a collision with the floor. A primal scream of the sort Ingar would be proud of, were he at the moment engaged in therapy rather than a fight with a preternaturally strong and fast ape, rips from Harvey's throat and he shouts over the tumalt of combat "I'll pay, I'll pay, whatever, I'll pay."
Slag takes a swing at Goodness' face, attempting to make a dentistry check unskilled. Once again the Scottsman is able to dodge the blow, but in doing so he loses his focus on Avan.
Avan drops back a couple of steps and gives a flick of his wrists, and two finely honed throwing daggers drop into his hands. He immediately hurls both at Ingar. Both blades sink deeply into the writing mass of tentacles and immediately begin to smoke as ichor begins to eat away at the blades and handles. More spills onto the floor.
"Time for you to be dying," says Avan with a smile.
Turning from the elusive Slag, Chris does a spin move into a crouch and attempts to cut the Break Bone's ligaments at the back of the knee. Break Bones manages to get enough out if the way to avoid being hamstrung, but takes a deep cut across the backs of both calves instead, which makes him howl in rage and pain, and stagger from the extent of the injury.
Leo shakes his head, still foggy from that lungful of Frog Breath's noxious green gas. With all the dexterity that his usually deft fingers can muster, he pops the top from the can of non-dairy creamer with his left hand, and flicks Goodness's lighter on with the right. In a quick snap of the wrist, he flicks the can of creamer in a graceful arc under Frog Breath's nose, leaving a trail of white powder -- which he ignites by touching the lighter to the tail end of it. The white stuff catches fire with a WOOF! worthy of friend Woofard, and Leo has only a fraction of a second to hope that Frog Breath's halitosis may be flammable too, as he continues spraying the flammable material in a trail around his opponent's head. The non-dairy creamer ignites, singing Frog Breath's hair and burning the skin on one of his cheeks. Frog Breath snarls at the smell of burnt meat and hair, and decides that Leo will be fun to gut. Slowly.
Lotte Ashwari finishes running into her office.
Ignoring those of his tentacled mouths which are currently screaming, having been impaled by the throwing knives, Ingar lurches forward, trying to back Avan into a corner where is will be out of wiggle room. he shouts "Keep it coming, Goodness" at his oldest (36 hours) and much beloved friend The agile Avan manages to sidestep this attempt to box him in, however, and continues to dance around his foe, just out of reach.
"Avec ple-fekkin'-zere!" shouts Goodness, reaching for another shrunken. He takes aim and lets fly once again, shooting for Avan's optic orb once again, and this time putting a little something behind it (like an experience die). The Scotsman may die, but he won't let his Norweigian friend eat the Omega if he can help it. "Oy, Avian!" shouts the agent. "Come an' get some! Yer favourite band SUCKS! Toori Amos would na sleep wi' ye if ye were the last Goth turd on God's grey Earth! Yer mum shaves her back hair wi' a fekkin' lawn mower, ye piss baby!" The flurry of blows being aimed at Goodness' face by Slag manages to put a kabosh on any plans to sink a shuriken into Avan's eye, however, and this one goes wide too.
Break Bones, near mad with pain and anger, attempts to cave Chris's ribcage in with his spiked club. The club sails over Chris's head, and it begins to appear as though he might have a chance to bowl a couple of sets tonight after all.
As Woofard springs to his feet and prepares to leap, one of Bellow's meaty hands shoots out in an attempt to grab the Akita by the throat. The Akita manages to squirm enough to prevent the giant thug from getting the sort of grip that would result in a broken neck, but still gets knocked back painfully against the stairs as Bellow begins to stagger to his feet.
Marda continues to attempt to convince the kids in the classroom to exit the room for the ventilation shaft. Unfortunately, these kids are older than Marda (when have older kids ever listened to younger kids?) and most of them just stare at her, looking instead to the old guy at the front for instructions.
Christ, jumping on this ape is like tackling a dump truck. The sonuvabitch will snap me in half before I even slow him down, are the thoughts slammed through Woofard's head as the pair of them tumble down the stairs. All right, goddamn it, time for a change in plan. Gort here may be big, and muscles like stone, but they won't do dick for him if he can't get his pins under him again.
Woofard scrambles to his feet, taking advantage of the fact that he doesn't have as far to go to do so. He does the dog thing, attacking at the lower legs, grabbing at the goon's pants and pulling and ducking back, only to rush in and do it again, basically doing his best to keep this guy from getting to his feet again, while trying to keep his fuzzy head from getting stove in. He gives a tug at just the correct moment, causing Bellow to topple once again, ramming his head against the stairs with a sickening *CRACK* as he falls. The giant howls with pain, but seems unimpared by the blow, despite the blood which begins streaming from the cut on the side of his head.
Sam waits impatiently for kids to start coming out of the classroom
so he can hand them up. None seem to be appearing. Perhaps
Marda is not as persuasive with her own kind as she is when conning Sam
into something?
Harvey remembers that he started all this with his cattleprod. Jumping forward nervously he jabs it at Avan Bloodlord in a feeble attempt to assist Ingar.
He continues saying "omigod, omigod, omigod" throughout this action.
Avan dodges the cattle prod as he has dodged so much else recently. He seems to take no offense at the fact that he is being ganged up on, but rather seems to relish the challenge.
Frogbreath, annoyed beyond reason with Leo's attempt to light him on fire, makes a try at cutting Leo's eyes out with his fighting knife. While missing the precious orbs, he does give Leo a good slice across the cheek, lips, and gums that leaves the circus performer's mouth rapidly filling with blood.
Elinore hobbles into the infirmary, saying in calm but urgent tones, "Come along Victoria, we need to go into the classroom now."
In Marda's classroom, the old guy in front yells back out into the hallway "What's happening Ms. Smith? Where's Jonny?"
Blessed Slag decides to go for a forehead punch against Goodness, hoping
to open up a
nice bloody cut that will bleed into his eyes. Once again the
Scotsman weaves at just
the right moment to take most of the power out of the blow, and he
receives no more than
a minor abrasion.
Dammit, this is what they mean by having a tiger by the tail, thinks Woofard. If I try and get away from Gorgo, he'll snap me in half. He's beating me goofy, and I might a well be attacking a Sherman tank with a waffle iron. Best to keep him off of his feet as much as possible. Woofard again focuses his attacks on keeping the man down, attacking his lower legs and feet with sharp white teeth, pulling and tripping, and keeping way from those big ole' ham-hock mitts as best a dog is able. Nimbly dodging in, he once again sinks his fangs into the mighty Bellow. The huge fighter is hampered while lying on the ground, and Woofard takes a good sized chunk out of the back of his right knee as he tries to rise, causing him to fall over once again and scream in agony and fury at this galling attack.
Avan Bloodlord has survived countless fights, and hasn't risen to leadership of the Glorious Lords without some knowledge of when to take risks. Sidestepping Ingar once again he rounds on Harvey in a lightning fast move. Stepping towards the dermatologist he makes a grab for the cattle prod (not the live part naturally) and uses his grip to yank Harvey into the path of a knee to the crotch, followed up by an open handed strike to the face. Harvey goes down, seeing stars, and Avan now has a cattle prod in his hands.
After ducking the club Chris rotates back, raises up a little steps inside the grasp and short strikes to the thug's neck with his bloody Gerber. The attack does not quite manage to sever any major arteries or the tarachea, but leaves a severe gash in the thug's neck that takes him down, holding his throat and gagging - out of the fight.
Bellow decides that it is time to stop playing with his new canine friend and get on with business. Consequently he attempts to shove one of his heavy boots down Woofard's throat with the ultimate goal of having it come out the other end. Although the blow is largely avoided, it catches Woofard just in the spot where he had previously cracked his head when the big thug landed on him, and the Akita starts seeing stars and hearing tweeting birds (he's messed up).
Lotte does whatever it is that she is doing in her office.
Marda pauses in the classroom, hoping that some of the kids will follow her suggestion, but most of them seem to be looking at the old guy up front.
Leo, deciding that the last hit hurt enough, dances his way out of Frog Breath's reach. He jumps on the rolling office chair that was Souster's and launches himself across the room and out of Frog Breath's halitosis and blade range, balancing against the swivelling, and ducking lighting fixtures. He steers away from other combattants as best he can, surfing on the caster-chair -- one gang memeber at a time is enough for him. Upon bouncing against the next wall, he jumps from the chair, flips it with his foot, and whips it up as a makeshift shield against Frog breath's oncoming attack.
Sam, seeing Bellow down and Woofard staggering, makes a heroic leap down the stairs with the aim of planting his feet in some vital spot on the giant gang member's anatomy. How he manages to miss what amounts to a slab of beef lying on the ground will remain one of the great mysteries of Al Amarja, but he lands in a heap at the bottom of the stairway.
Frog Breath, rather than pursue Leo, will turn (a bit belatedly) in an attempt to assist Breakbones. Once again a cloud of noxious green vapor pours from his mouth, enveloping Chris's head, causing him to gag, choke, and retch.
Harvey, dazed and in extreme pain, lies there and tries to remember
how to successfully breathe.
Goodness decides to try something a little tricky. He waits for Slag to make his next move, staying on the defensive. When Slag strikes, the plucky agent is going to shoot him. Shoot him good. Right in the gut. And then kick him down the stairs.
"Can't we all joost get a--aw, fuck it," mutters Goodness. In his next life, he's definitely coming back as someone who gets bitten by a radioactive spider.
At point blank range, there is no way that Slag can get out of the way of the bullet in time - but somehow he manages it anyway. Damn, but he's fast!
Nauseous with pain and atavism, Ingar wobbles slightly. With a pleading gaze at his opponent, he implores him "Define 'death', please!" The last word ends in a gurgle. Ingar, shaken, stirred and with a twist, lurches backwards as his wounds spew forth at Avan a generous helping of Ingar's ichor, this multipurpose liquid which doubles as blood, lymph, gastric acid, bodily waste, semen, venereal retrovirus, drain opener and polish for all hard, corrosion-resistant surfaces; Thousands of uses around the home, and perfect for dealing with those pesky apes with swollen neocortexes; Not approved by the Geneva convention nor by Ann Landers.
Mixed into this deluge of filth are corroding shards of bone, slivers of metal and shreds of plastic. It smells pretty much like Hell, and the one good thing one can say about it (apart from the possibility that it may hit Avan) is that it brightens up this drab room immesurably, with lots and lots of colours looking much like a melted, highly-unstable rainbow.
With animal cunning and daemonic speed, Avan flings himself behind a children's plastic play area which has seen better days, but now probably won't see many worse ones as it begins to bubble and dissolve. He vaults over the acidic mess as it begins to eat through the floor, causing multicolored nauseating vapor that makes Frog Breath green with envy to rise and begin filling the room. Avan lands near Harvey (who is thankfully free of the bubbling gehenna slime for the moment). The look on his face makes his future intentions towards the consulting dermatologist rather obvious. Just a little nudge... one good swift kick ought to do it.
"Sorry!" adds the big lummox automatically as he tries to keep from suffering more bodily injury or stepping on/eating/otherwise inconveniencing the friend-chimp with the electroshock inductor. His mind reels and tries to come up with something more constructive than Triassic battlecries, dire invocations and countless charts of the fluctating price of primate brains over the millennia, measured in energy units.
* * *
Upstairs, Samuel moves over to the door of the classroom, slams it closed, and throws a bar across it.
"Johnathon," he says to one of the older boys, "get the grating off the ventilation duct. Quickly now!"
Elinore Smith, Victoria in her arms, hobbles at best speed towards her classroom. The pressure of time proves too much for her leg, however, and she falls sprawling in the hallway, twisting desperately in the air so that Victoria lands on top.
* * *
Slag feints with his fists at Goodness' face once again, then strikes for his groin with a booted foot. The luckily his police training allows Goodness to see the blow coming and step deftly aside.
Not so fortunate is Harvey. Avan Bloodlord tosses the cattle prod into the pool of Ingar's wholesome fluid for friendship (where it immediately begins to hiss and spark, causing even more noxious smoke to arise as the floor continues to dissolve and the playset to run like heated wax), bends down, and drags Harvey to his feet by the collar. The satanic gang lord wrenches the consulting dermatologist's head around so that Harvey is peering much further over his right shoulder than he ever peered before, hearing the muscles in his neck pop and his cervical vertebrae crackle in protest. It is pretty obvious to anyone with any sort of martial arts experience that a few more p.s.i. of pressure will see Harvey's spinal column part company with his brain. Harvey whimpers with shock, fear and pain.
"STOP!" shouts Avan in an infernal and commanding tone. "Lay down your weapons or I shall send this one screaming to hell!"
Goodness' head whips around from sighting on Slag to staring at Harvey. "Goddamnit," the agent mutters. He stares at Bloodlord, trying to will laser beams to shoot from his eyes and melt the flesh off of the man. When this fails, he slowly places his gun on the floor before him. "All rait, all rait, ye big bruiser, the gun's doon. Let go o'the doctair, eh?"
Ingar halts in midstep, wobbles and sputters at his irreconcilable desires for Old Testament retribution and living friends. Like a hound (a tentacled one) on a leash, Ingar strains towards Avan without moving an inch. His pupillae implodes into pinpoints as his intrapsychic conflicts begins shouting and slamming the doors, and he moans - a sound like iron on glass.
The same is true for Chris. Except for the bit about the tentacles. And the pupillae. And the moaning. Chris just sheathes his weapon and hopes no one notices he does not "drop it"
A hush falls over the skool as the combatants grudgingly separate. Frog Breath and Slag move back in the direction of the door, giving the bubbling and smoking section of the floor a wide berth. Bellow staggers to his feet, his beady eyes glowering at Woofard and Sam with feral hatred, then begins lumbering towards the others. Though streaming blood from several wounds, he appears too stupid or too tough to really notice. Break Bones simply lies on the floor, woozy from lack of blood and pretty much unconscious.
"You have inconvenienced me," says Avan, never loosening his grip for an instant. He doesn't seem particularly angry, more like slightly amused. "I thought you were simply a bunch of weak, stupid Burger far from safety. In this I was clearly mistaken - you are not weak, except in that manner that your kind are almost always weak. Look at you - paralyzed by the threat of death to this one man. He was useless - were you simply to accept his death, you could undoubtedly overcome my companions and perhaps even myself, though I would take your mutant with me to hell. And yet you hold back." He chuckles. It isn't a pleasant sound.
From upstairs comes the sounds of children banging around in heating ducts. Avan pays it no mind.
"Now that I have your attention," continues Avan, inclining his head slightly towards Harvey, "Why did you attack Cursed Steamer, and what do you want?"
The steaming, smoking portion of the floor that Ingar vomited on takes this opportunity to collapse with a hiss and a crash into the basement.
Great, thinks Woofard, shaking his head to see if he could possibly be able to manuever his brain back to someplace in his skull where it might be used for more than an interesting avant garde sculpture display, beaten up my satanists. My mom would be so proud. Not to mentions the boys back in O'Malley's pool hall.
He tries to refocus his eyes, or at least get them to stop spinning around as he gazes at the invaders... well, other invaders... Of course these dudes are a lot tougher than the pasty faced goth freaks that called them selves satanists back in San Francisco... Hey, ya don't suppose they really..... nah. I must have gotten hit harder than I thought ta be thinking like that, and I thought I was hit plenty damn hard.
Harvey, moaning slightly in pain, manages to utter a few words. "We found an abused girl, we thought he was one of the abusers, it was a stupid mistake. I wish I'd never done it, violence never works." He tries to turn as he speaks, so as to relieve the pressure on his neck.
There is a momentary silence.
"That's all?" says Avan with a touch of amusement. "You found some maltreated gutter rat and somehow got it into your head that Cursed Steamer was the culprit? Cursed Steamer?" He chuckles, but doesn't loosen his hold.
"Let me assure you, burger, that the only connection the Cursed have to abuse is to be on the receiving end of it. They are judged unfit by our dark lord for service and are therefor below contempt!" He sneers, then smiles. "The Blessed, on the other hand, are a completely different matter. But, in fact, we didn't. The Glorious Lords do not make victims of children." He pauses dramatically. "They're boring. Adults are far more... versatile. Allow me to demonstrate."
He leans close to Harvey's ear and whispers.
"Jonny died to save you money," whispers Avan, "you could have bought us off. It was only one of the Cursed."
Harvey listens to Avan's whispered words, his face crumpling as he does so. Suddenly, Harvey begins to sob uncontrollably, nose running and tears cascading down his face. "Oh my god" he repeats through his tears, "oh my god". His whole form seems to slump in some inner defeat.
Seeing Harvey's obvious horror, Avan laughs (though he still doesn't release his brutal hold). Ingar, holding back his messy rage, stares with great vengance at the brute and his hostage.
"Let's go, Brothers," Avan says to the still mobile Slag, Frogbreath, and Bellow. Bellow skirts around the hole in the floor in order to pick up the still unconscious Cursed Steamer by the hair and fling him over one shoulder. Nobody makes an effort to help Breakbones. Frogbreath, Bellow, and Slag all head out the remains of the front door, Bellow pausing for just a moment to scan the group with his beady little eyes before going. Avan Bloodlord drags Harvey over to the front door.
"We're finished," he says, "The Glorious Lords have been repaid in full
for the damage done to Cursed Steamer." With that he steps out the
door (and out of the line of fire of Goodness' firearm) and shoves Harvey
back into the room.
To Be Continued...