RP: ISC Phoenix [Interlude 4] - A Hard Day's Night

Uriel managed to work up a smile at what he assumed was humor coming from Sebastian before they took their leave.

At the restaurant he sat to Enzo's left. When it came his turn to order, he realized he wasn't very hungry. So he kept it small. "A nine-ounce rib-eye, nine-ounce prime rib, and a nine-ounce NepPrime cut, all of them medium. Add to that an order of... steak fries, mixed veggies, and... mashed potatoes. Please, ma'am."

It wasn't long after that yet another strange fellow was approaching Captain Pavone, apparently attempting to "play the part" of a villain. The Patrician was already tired of this man.

Now normally he wasn't one to use his frame to intimidate others, but right now all he really wanted to do was sit down, eat, and try to get to know some of the crew, and this... Mr. Kreisen fellow was interrupting it all. To do so merely "playing a part" in some "greater script" was just some fool's means of creating a God without the weighty title and giving himself some snowblind path to mindlessly trek along. Moron.

So without hesitation, Uriel Hisshana rose from his seat and drew his Hippeis Xiphos with his left hand in one swift movement. The monomolecular blade came to rest in the nook between Michael's neck and shoulder. The Archangel's wings spread, careful not to interfere with people nor strike anyone's dishware. His smoldering glare settled on Kreisen while the following words left his mouth in a menacing tone, "We are enjoying a very pleasant time with pleasant company over pleasant food. If you do not remove your unpleasant self from the premises at once, I'll be glad to remove you, possibly in multiple parts."

Sebastian blinked in Uriel's direction, "I certainly didn't expect a response like that," He said under his breath.

Luca smiled at Vincent, "I think my friend has a point," He concluded with a nonchalant smile, "Besides, I never go anywhere without someone following, I can't look after myself after all, right?"

He pointed towards Robert and Panther, "I look after people, who look after me. Who would look after a guy like you?" He then dropped the happy façade and had an uncharacteristically serious moment as he remembered one of his previous missions, "I saw how you treated Hitori, and I doubt you'd ever make another friend after that."

Michael smirked, then chuckling once, "You haven't figured it out, have you?" he pointed to himself, "How do you think I got here, though I was killed quite dramatically back on N-357?"

Luca blinked as he remembered the 12 piece puzzle Michael was left in, courtesy of the Power Armour ninja, "You know what, I haven't considered that," He then realised the implications of what he just said, blinking and frowning, "Oh, crap."

A few other people stood up in the bar and turned around - they were identical to Michael. The five of them flocked to the presumed original, and cracked their knuckles in a sickening concert.
"Hitori, I retract my previous statement, this looks like trouble," Luca said lightly, staring the six man army down.

Anna chipped in, "That's illegal, having more than one clone active," she pointed accusingly.
"I think he's disregarding that flagrantly," Sebastian added his two cents as he shook his head, "Either way, I have a feeling the next thing is going to be unavoidable."
"I suppose that means lunch will have to be postponed," Luca said as he got up, and cracked his knuckles singlehandedly, "I'll make sure you stay down for good this time."

John was content with sitting down and staying out of this, "What? I've got no idea what any of you are on about. Leave me out of this," He drunk his beer.

Luca, and his crew (Hitori included) versus six clones. The barmaid was still busy processing the orders given by the crew, hopefully they'd get their lunch after the fight.

"Still afraid of death?" Michael mocked Luca, who just held his tongue for now, engaged in a staredown.

The other patrons had scattered upon realising that six identical patrons were in their midst, and failed to notice this fact before.
"Holy shit, I'm freaking the fuck out!" One guy who had too much to drink voiced his concerns and dropped his drink after contemplating it.
"At least it's easy to tell who the bad guy is!" A slightly more sober patron observed.

The fighting conditions themselves would be rather enclosed, with a bar to the left, a wall with permanent chairs and to the right, less-permanent tables and chairs in the middle, a stage at the very back, and a balcony behind them. Pulling a firearm out was probably not a wise idea.

"Save the real one for me," Luca cautioned to his crew as he pointed out the foremost Michael.

He's the Captain, Uriel thought to himself and without warning lunged to the right, pressing his wings tightly to his back. The nearest clone was grabbed around the throat, lifted from the ground, and driven through with the Xiphos still clutched in the Patrician's left hand. No better way to start off a conflict than an impressive display of force.

Of course this was nothing. What was impressive was how Uriel twisted the blade and yanked it free of the clone's innards with just one hand.

((let me know if this is too much; I've noticed each GM has his own way of handling things.))

Vincent didn't say anything as the clones trotted into the room, as if summoned by some sort of psychic beacon. After fighting giant, toothed, formless creeping blobs of pitch, special ops Nekovalkyrja with telekinetic abilities and a zombie hord on a desert planet, clones of a sociopathic bounty hunter were just another bump on the road.

The mercenary turned his full wrath on the nearest clone, moving to melee range and grappling onto the chest of its black longcoat. The ex-soldier lifted hard with his big arms, jerking the clone into the air, then threw the clone facedown onto the bar table. Vincent gave the clone a mighty shove down the bar table, turning away from him to face down his next opponent.

With his crew behind him, Luca immediately lunged into Michael with a right jab, although brushed aside, he followed it with another fast jab, this time striking him in the chest. Michael was unfased by this, and snatched up a pepper shaker whilst sidestepping a left cross.

The one that'd been impaled by Uriel seemed to understand that he was another clone in a small fighting force, and tried to fight back, landing a few strong blows before bleeding out. People usually have difficulty functioning properly when their vital organs are missing.

As for the once engaged by Vincent, he lifted himself up from the table and snatched up a nearby knife, jumping on the Mercenary's back and slashing wildly into his shoulders. Sebastian saw this coming and grabbed the clone, pulling him before he did any major damage and laying him out on a table. Sebastian then drove his metal arm into his head with a sickening crunch.

Luca paused for a moment analysed Michael's moves, his stance, his act. Michael, whilst having an air of aloofness, had the skill to back it up, and dirty tactics to match, judging by the pepper shaker. However, Luca had the idea to beat him at his own game.

So he jumped onto an empty table in the middle of the room on his back as Michael threw the pepper shaker sans the lid at his head and missed. He then rode the table backwards, landing on his feet and flipping the table over. Michael then attempted to circle the table, but Luca sweep-kicked it into his legs, unbalancing him.

With this moment, Luca was able to lunge in and score a powerful right cross to the head. Michael staggered and smiled as a clone of his stood next to him.
"Hmm, you've learned a bit more since last time I saw you," Michael pointed to the captain, "I like this, but I can rival it. Two of me are gone, but the other three remain!"

Blocking and dodging blows from two Michaels proved to be troublesome, as Luca was getting pushed further and further away from the crew. Then the real Michael drew his signature katana from underneath his jacket, and Luca knew he'd have to fight dirtier, or get some help quickly.

Anna, who was still sitting down, had noticed that Enzo's number was on the table, and gave it a ring.
"Mr. Bortelli, we have a situation," She left a succinct message as Luca turned around and begun to sprint around the bar, jumping on and off tables to dodge Michael and his Katana.

Within minutes, a wet and shirtless Enzo was jogging across the street whilst pulling his pants on and dodging traffic. He carried a very large pistol borrowed from his uncles and ran straight into the crowd of people that had gathered at the door; too scared to stay inside, and too rubber-necked to leave. Grunting in frustration, Enzo turned away and made for a drainage pipe on the adjacent building. He clambered up the rickety metal and flung himself backwards from the top, landing heavily on the roof of the steakhouse. He stumbled across the cluttered roof and tripped over a pane for a skylight looking down over the stage below. He could see the crew struggling with the clones below. He didn't think twice before stomping the edge of the glass to break it and jumping through. He caught a metal rack with stage-lights dangling from them and swung one handed from them like a monkey. A deadly monkey with an HHG. He called out to the group of look-alikes in a jeering tone, "Hey, you! Trendy sons of bitches, come over here and get me before I picks ya off one at a time, see!"

As if to punctuate, he fired the pistol at one of the stage lights, blowing it open. He swung up with the momentum of the kick and perched on top of the rack, pointing his over sized gun down at the commotion below. With his free hand, he sneakily slid out his switchblade; ready to pounce on whomever took the bait first.

"Okay, NOW YOU'VE PISSED ME OFF!" Vincent shouted, loudly enough that the bar went silent for a moment before returning to its usual din. The soldier turned towards the nearest Michael clone, shrugging to make sure his shoulders weren't in enough pain to lock up, then dropped into a wide-legged stance and charged.

He gore-tackled the nearest clone at full speed, running straight towards the stage. Without slowing down, Vincent grappled his target up the stage steps and at high speed through the red curtains. What happened next was a vague mystery, although the sounds of a crashing melee from backstage were very obvious.

Robert had trouble picking out which one was the real Micheal among the clones so he just grabbed one from behind and stabbed it in the back with his signature knife.

"Chilli is fine," Zeta replied to the barmaid. Well as long as it'll be spicy. She then went back to checking the room. Few patrons looked weird, but she couldn't tell what bugged her about them.

Then the Yammie came. Looks like he and Luca go way back, but not in a nice way. Zeta was pretty much ready for fight. She reached for her new combat knife. There was too many people to start shooting and target wasn't far.

Then other five stood up and she found out why she felt uneasy about them. They were all clones. Zeta stood up, ready to start killing.
Luca said few more words and then brawl started.

The large Elysian killed one of clones quite quickly while big ID-sol fought with another. Sebastian then smashed skull of that one. Cyber arms are very handy. Vincent then attacked another clone.

Then Luca started his fight with "real" Michael. It looked like Luca had upper hand until other clone came to help out. Well two on one wasn't fair in Zeta's eyes.

She ran up to the clone helping out real Michael with Luca and rammed him with her shoulder. Clone was send few meters back where he got his balance back. Zeta didn't give him much more time and tried to stab him with her knife.

After Panther he was signaled out by Luca, he began to feel obligated to at least participate in this fight. So after a short growl, he loosened his jacket and let the hood fall off while he fell to all fours and began moving around like a cat on the prowl. He used the tables, furniture, and other patrons as a way to move about quickly without attracting too much attention.

Panther kept watch from his low viewpoint in help with his exceptional hearing to keep on mind where everyone was. At the first sign that the most rear clone was out of sight from the others, the Kohanian would quickly rush from behind and hold the man's mouth while stabbing him in the back once then slashing the throat.

"<Goodnight,>" the assassin would say in a low purr in Kohanian as he would dispatch his unlucky target.

Enzo's marvellous distraction was able to let some of the clones get a run for their money by being distracted. One poor bastard got swept up by Vincent, and would later emerge with most of his body sticking out of a giant subwoofer speaker, and had no intention of returning to the fight.

The clone Robert was dealing with proved to be somewhat troublesome, pulling a knife of its own and attempting to knife the short mercenary. Robert didn't have a problem parrying or dodging the blows, though.

As for the Clone Panther was after, it was too busy trying to decode what Enzo had garbled, and ended up with a back full of knife, courtesy of the Kohanian.

As Zeta closed in towards the Clone that was assisting the real Michael and provided a worthy distraction, Luca took an opportunity to kick a plate into Michael, who sliced through it - leaving himself open to a boot to the face from above.

Michael stumbled as he nursed his nose from the captain's boot, "Seems like I've overshot this again," He frowned as he bought his katana to bear, "Either way, I'm not going to go down easily."
Luca thumped his chest with a grin, "I'm something, aren't I?" He goaded him.

"You're NOTHING!!" Michael charged into Luca blindly, who simply sidestepped his attack, grabbed him single-handedly by the neck of his longcoat from behind, spinning around and grabbing him with his other hand and swinging him around in a large arc like a ragdoll.

"ON, THE, CONT-RARY!" Luca yelled out as he continued to spin him around, and got him into range to assist Zeta, by using him as a human club against the clone. Needless to say, the clone was both surprised and in pain as his master's boots gave him a concussion.

He then released his grip and sent him barrelling through the air and onto the stage, landing close, and face down to Vincent. He dusted off his hands and cracked his knuckles, "I'm definitely something, I know it. Vincent, do elaborate my point."

The real Michael took a moment to use his sword as a cane and lift himself up weakly, then turn around to notice the eight foot tall ID-SOL. He quietly mouthed a six letter minced swearword that we're all familiar with: "Bugger."

Zeta was prepared to stab her enemy when suddenly legs flew from nowhere and hit the clone. He fell on the he looked like he is out of it. Zeta quckly crouched near him cought him by the shirt and punched him in the face with her matel hand to be sure he is unconscious.

"Okay that would be catching a prisoner." she said. She looked around to see other clones being mopped up and real Micheal lying on the grounf in fron of Vincent. Poor fellow but he deserved it.

She then shouted to Luca. "Captain thanks for asistance. I caught him. We may learn something from him. His account number for example." She ten grinned and watched her catch with a laser pistol in her hand.

"Gladly." The words were, somehow, the single-most threatening words Vincent had shouted in the entire melee, the two-syllable word being little more than a gravelly grunt, as the mercenary advanced on Michael.

Vincent grabbed Michael by the back of the head, turned towards the nearest wall and threw his arm forward, cracking the assassin's face against the wall of the stage repeatedly before throwing him to the ground. The assassin tumbled headfirst to the stage and got a boot to the already-broken nose for his troubles, the force sending him skidding across the stage floor and down over the edge, onto the floor of the bar. Vincent picked the assassin up one last time, grabbed him by the collar of his black cloak and the waistband of his pants, dragged him to a door, and gave him a hard heave-ho, the force of Michael's torso shattering the particle-board-and-oak-laminate door and throwing the assassin out into the street.

Uriel was about to take care of the poor fool who'd bothered to announce himself like he had some sort of plot shield, but Luca wanted Vincent to deliver the final blow. So the Patrician backed down, cleaned his weapon with great care- the Archangel had much more than a swordsman's bond with this weapon- and sheathed it. Then he shot an inquiry Captain Pavone's way: "Are you always being troubled by such... buffoons?"

That was one way to put it. A much more respectful way would have been "low-caliber," but Uriel saw no reason to pay any of these soulless cretins any sort of respect.

"Yeah, well some of us work for him." Enzo said, moving from behind Uriel and approaching one of the cleaner clones. He knelt down and unbuttoned the shirt the clone was wearing, making a point of tossing the clone's wallet to Zeta with a smile. After removing the shirt, he slid it over his head and was soon wearing it as his own. Continuing on his looting spree, Enzo scoured the room and nicked various things people had dropped in the process of clearing out. Looking around to see if the bartender was still around, he slid two bottles of gin into his cargo pants and made for the door.

"I'll be right back," he said, "I'm gonna go get my stuff from across the street."

He returned moments later, wearing his coat, hat, and bag. As he entered the door, he slid his belt on under the coat with his pistol and the large pistol both holstered on it. Being prepared for whatever happened next, Enzo took his place right behind Luca and lit up his cigarette.

After whispering a prayer to the spirits, the Kohanian let the body drop and picked up a cloth to clean the blade. After sheathing the blade, he then zipped up his hoody jacket once again and in an instant was back in his disguise, hood over head included.

He would then order some fish like none of this had happened. To him it wasn't really much of a challenge so the events preceding hardly mattered to him.

"It doesn't really bother me now," Luca said as he dusted off his hands and inspected the carnage that he and the crew left in wake of the fight, "Either way, it keeps me busy. I can't not just sit down and do nothing after all." He took it upon himself to straighten up what was destroyed as best as he could.

"Not entirely true, you need to learn to just sit sometimes," Sebastian pointed out as he looked over the destruction and sighed, tapping his foot, "But sometimes, we are forced to stand, sometimes a bit too often for my liking. Wouldn't you agree, Uriel?"

The barmaid came out with three plates in her hands, and set them down on the Crew's table, "You have some very interestin' friends 'n enemies, ya do..." She said in a scorning tone as she headed back into the kitchen to fetch the remaining food.

Steaks for Luca and Sebastian, Uriel's largely specified order, Chilli for Zeta, a grilled Fish for Panther and some salad for Anna. Meanwhile, Mel and John were content with just having a bowl of chips to share.
"Y'know Luca, yeah, y'do," Mel pointed out, "How in hell would a lot like us have come t'gether anyway?"

"Believe me, now that Dad's mentioned it, I've been wondering about it..." Luca replied solemnly as he started to have his lunch. He was thinking of just cutting his holiday short here and concluding it elsewhere, when someone approached him.

"Hello? You're the Mr. Pavone fellow, right?" A rather soft-spoken, pale woman wearing a rainbow scarf, had red eyes and very obvious cybernetic attachments approached her, "If it isn't much trouble, can you deliver this to a place called Drift, please?" She put a purple, lovingly gift wrapped package on the table in front of him. She also had a way with puppydog eyes.

She was recognisable as a Freespacer, and Drift was a long way away - straddling the border between Yamataian and United Outer Colonies space.

Zeta took her clone prisoner. And sat him on a chair, tying him up with his own jacket. It is not perfect but it will hold and she will keep an eye on him.

She then checked the wallet Enzo tossed her for anything important or valuable. She than sat at the table to enjoy her chilli. But she didn't stop watching her prisoner.
"We could get the location of their hideout from him, if they have one we could loot it then. He could also have their account number," she said to Luca and then listened to the conversation.

It was true that crew of Phoenix was somewhat interesting. Captain was a hero who travelled with his parents and had crew of misfits, cut-throats, perverts, clones and big kitty with anger management problem. Quite strange indeed.

When the lady came and asked Luca for job all Zeta watched was the small box-like wrapped thing. "I hope it is not a bomb," Zeta muttered when she saw that little gift.

Enzo pulled up a chair and sat at the table, leaning over to examine the purple box. "Personally, I hopes it is a bomb." he said, "It'd be really awful to make such a pretty box for somethings other than urgent death, cash-on-delivery."

After saying his piece, Enzo leaned back and propped his feet on the prisoner's lap. Occasionally, he would tap ashes from his cigarette into the clone's hair as everyone finished their meals.

Uriel ignored Enzo's statement, but recognized its truthfulness. He only gave a solemn nod in Sebastian's direction as a response; it was noncommittal as the Archangel was unsure of Sebastian's meaning. However, he had a feeling that it struck a strong cord that resonated deeply with the story of his life.

As things were settling down, he reclaimed his seat at the table and once more began routinely and neatly devouring his food. If only the Nepleslians knew how good they had it when it came to filling your stomach...