Trinity Universe: Masked Men

[tooho]

Lotus relaxes into her hiding place and watches the gaily dressed patrons enter. She smiles slightly as she looks down at her own clothing. ::cool

*sigh* She unconciously whispers to herself in Japanese, "Seems I came unprepared. I will have to just observe until I figure out what is happening."

She'll circle the building marking all the exits and entrances then try to hide somewhere in the alley where she can overhear the entering and exiting patrons conversations, trying to glean any information she can about the establishment before she is moved to enter. ::sneaky2

[Heritage]

The obviously wealthy couple are quickly escorted to the 'secret' club once they speak easy. Entering the smokey club atmosphere, with the band music, shouting & laugher, is slightly disorienting to the Whistler - but a few moments hanging on to Polly's supportive arm are enough for him to adjust. Glancing about the magician spots the gentlemen Polly & he met earlier in the alley - the Norse fellow now dressed in a much more civilised fashion - although his lusty beer quaffing still leaves something to be desired...

After the room stops spinning, Karl is able to focus on the events around him; behind his smoked glasses, his eyes hungrily absorb as many details as they can, and his ears are listening for any 'loose talk' of the criminal variety.

Suddenly mindful of his young companion, he turns to Polly and leans in to be heard over the din of the club.

We'd better order drinks so we don't stand out - what can I get you?

[Archer21]

Kettles lights a cigarette, & offers one to the young woman, who takes it - hands still trembling slightly - & also proceeds to inhale the smoke. Offering one of the little white sticks to Ulfmund, the Doc raises an eyebrow,

"Smoke?" he inquires.

Suspicious, Ulf' takes the cigarette. Aping his friend Kettles, the warrior places the little white stick carefully, resting it upon his lower lip. Pursing his lips to hold it in place, Ulf's eyes flick around till he locates the box of fire-sticks...what did Kettles call them? *Matchsticks, or matches.* , he remembers. Grabbing the box of matches, he swiftly removes one and scrapes it on the box as he's seen others do. Rewarded with a flame, he grins and lights his cigarette.

Pinching it between his fingers like Kettles is doing, he draws a deep breath, inhaling the acrid smoke. Coughing violently, he flings the poisonous little stick away, into the crowded room, then takes a huge gulp of beer. Slamming his mug onto the table, he glares at Kettles through tear-filled eyes. A spate of ancient Norse escapes him. "I am unpleased, scholar!" He coughs again. "Bah! I will keep to beer, weak as your people's version is."

Ulf' drinks some more beer, frowning. Finally, he looks up at his friend. "Forgive me, Kettles. You did not intend malice. Your world, and its strangeness, confuse me. Sometimes I am easily angered."

[Prince of Boredom]

The door is easily kicked open, with some noise, but nothing noticable further inside the building. Sneaking inside, the hooded warrior finds the junk-strewn attic area. After some quick searching he locates the narrow stairway down to the floor where he heard all the 'interesting' bedroom activities... At the foot of the stairs in another door, also locked, through which the giggles, laughter, moans, & yelps of ill-repute drift to the martial arts master's ears.

He quickly, yet silently, creeps down the stairs to the locked door and again kicks the door open, this time trying to time his kick so that the noise is muffled by all of the ‘extra-curricular’ activities happening on the other side.

When through the door, he keeps his eyes and ears open, looking for a slightly open door where he might be able to ‘appropriate’ some clothes appropriate for the restaurant and club downstairs.

[ezekiel]

Nightingales:

Pinching it between his fingers like Kettles is doing, he draws a deep breath, inhaling the acrid smoke. Coughing violently, he flings the poisonous little stick away, into the crowded room, then takes a huge gulp of beer. Slamming his mug onto the table, he glares at Kettles through tear-filled eyes. A spate of ancient Norse escapes him. "I am unpleased, scholar!" He coughs again. "Bah! I will keep to beer, weak as your people's version is."

Moments after Ulf's gagging display the lights dim in the speakeasy and the crowds start quieting down as the dancers leave the stage and an orchestra starts tuning its instruments. Soon only silence is heard...

...

before a woman's pristine, angelic voice soars over the crowds, a whisper somehow heard by everyone.

"Somebody loves me..."

There's wild applause as the curtains draw open reveiling a red haired beauty that matches the voice, dressed in a white sequin dress and slowly walking down a set of stairs as glitter falls from the ceiling.

"I wonder who..

I wonder who he can be"

The orchestra pipes in as Cynthia Lewis (for it is Gotham's diva herself) suddenly picks up on their energy

,,

"Somebody loves me

I wish I knew,

Who can he be worries me

For ev¡¦ry guy who passes me

I shout, hey! maybe,

You were meant to be my loving baby;"

Cynthia walks through the tables of the speakeasy making eye contact with most of the men as she does so. Approaching a table she grabs a man bye his tie and pulls him close to her, pouting, their lips almost connecting.

"Somebody loves me

I wonder who..."

She pushes him back roughly to the seat and points behind her, encompassing the whole seated crowd

"Maybe it¡¦s you."

Orchestra riffs, Cynthia strikes a pose, the crowd goes wild...as usual... ::wink

[Asbjørn]

"I... I don't know nothin'..." he begins, but can't even maintain that pretense under the steely gaze, "Okay! Okay... I don't know everything. There's a big meeting. Representatives of all th' bosses are gonna' be there. Some new gang is movin' in t' town, & they wanna' talk. They've been orderin' those hits - th' bowman guy in th' papers - t', you know, prove that they mean business. Joe, th' Dutchman, Queenie - they'll all have people there. They say that this new mob is run by th' 'Big Guy'. Everyone just wants t' know how everything lies, you see? Maybe there'll be a war, maybe an alliance - either way, it's goin' down tonight."

"That's all you know, eh?"

After leaving the gangster a few breaths to consider his chances, he adds

"Now, there's just one more thing I want you to do. Confess. When the cops come to pick you up you're gonna tell them everything about the fire, and you, Shotgun and Fitzpatrick's involvement in it."

The Watchman's steel grey eyes catch the moonlight as he adds

"If you don't, I'll hear about it. And then I'll find you and make you wish you'd died here tonight. Do I make myself clear...?" ::devil

He gestures for Shamrock to move towards a nearby fire escape, drainpipe or similar object that looks solid enough, and cuffs the villain to it, preferably with a good view of his dead friend. He then casually walks back the way he came, turning briefly at the end of the alley to look at the man still living

"Remember..."

Then he rounds the corner and heads for the nearest phonebooth at a jog. The first phonecall is to the police to tell them where the persons guilty of setting the fire can be found, and the second one is to Terry, giving him the opportunity to witness NY's finest 'apprehending' a dangerous criminal or release him for a bribe... ::sly

A short while later...

A tall, handsome man wearing a black suit, an equally black hat and a heavy, expensive looking trenchcoat steps out of the taxi in front of Giovanni's Restaurant. His sideburns and moustache make him look in his mid-thirties - older than he really is - and his eyes are partially hidden behind a pair of dark glasses.

Like so many others this night, 'Mr Jackson' asks for a seat in the enchanted grotto,

"...possibly with some female company as the evening progresses...?" ::wink

Smiling to the head waiter as he's guided to the interior of the building, the disguised Watchman takes in all the details of the rooms with a practiced eye - especially when he reaches the club area.

"Maybe it¡¦s you."

Orchestra riffs, Cynthia strikes a pose, the crowd goes wild...as usual...

In the roar of applause from the excited audience, the newcommer quietly takes a seat at a good table - if any are left - and orders a bourbon on the rocks before he starts scanning the crowd for familiar faces.

He chuckles silently to himself as his gaze falls on the bar

Looks like they changed the mirrors since last time I was here... ::sly

[ProfPotts]

We'd better order drinks so we don't stand out - what can I get you?

Polly grins ::biggrin ,

"Why boss, are you trying to get me drunk?" ::wink

Then, with a shrug, she adds,

"Anything that won't make me blind is fine."

"I am unpleased, scholar!" He coughs again. "Bah! I will keep to beer, weak as your people's version is."

Kettles looks shocked at Ulf's outburst ::nervous ,

"You just have to get used to it, old boy - good for the lungs, the doctors say."

"Forgive me, Kettles. You did not intend malice. Your world, and its strangeness, confuse me. Sometimes I am easily angered."

The doc' nods, then smiles & proceeds to somehow magically cause the smoke from his lips to form ring-shapes that drift off & disipate into the general smokey substance of the club's atmosphere.

At the Norseman's outburst, several of the men around the room reach under their jackets - but the fact that Ulf' quickly calms, & (more to the point) the fact that none want to disrupt Miss Lewis' performance, stays their hands.

Upstairs, White Dragon waits until it sounds like there is no traffic passing the door he's at. The swift kick causes some noise as the door-frame bursts, but by the time anyone glances out of a room to see what it's all about, the martial artist has concealed himself - braced between the walls - on the ceiling. Again timing his actions until there are no witnesses, the hooded man drops silently to the carpeted floor, & steals across to one of the many bedroom doors. None are left open, but White Dragon selects a room from which the noises indicate the occupants are extremely busy, quietly turns the handle, & stealthily liberates the suit of the gentleman within (after all, it doesn't look like he'll be needing it for a while). After a quick change back in the attic, the vigilante finds himself in a suit that is tailored for a larger man than he, but which should pass casual inspection. A short trip down the stairs to the rear of the main club's casino area (& an appropriately satisfied-looking smile to the men guarding that door as he exits) & the White Dragon is in the club proper.

In the main club, those looking around [with at least some dots in Savy] recognise quite a few known mobsters who are in tonight. There are hoods from Joe the Boss's organisation, guys from the Dutchman, Irish gangsters, even the Voodoo Queen's black hoodlums, & a group of inscrutible Orientals from the Black Dragon tong. Something is definitly going to happen, & not all the bad guys look comfortable with the idea of sharing the club with their peers from other gangs...

Soon after Cynthia takes the stage, Vito Giovanni himself emerges from his private offices (a door to the right of the stage), an Oriental beauty dressed-up in the style of a typical flapper (bobbed hairstyle, low-backed dress than ends at the knee, long string of pearls, cigarette in a long black holder, etc.) on his arm. The smiling Italian-American club owner looks fine himself, in dark tuxedo, with slicked back hair & handsome Mediteranian features. As the couple are sitting themselves at a reserved table by the edge of the stage, two suit-clad heavies take up protective positions by the wall behind them. Vito calls a waitress over to order drinks, & glances around the room as he does so - seeming to note the various hoodlums who are in attendance...

In the alley outside, Black Lotus has observed several taxis & limos pull up, deposit patrons, & leave. Some are couples, or small groups of couples; others are groups of men. Then she watches as a distinctive all-white limo pulls up & stops. Three large & brutish looking men get out of the car - two from the front & one from the rear. All three are dressed in pale-blue tailored suits, with matching heavy woolen overcoats on top, & all are wearing thick leather gloves. Probably more important is the fact that each appears to be concealing a sawn-off, pump-action, shotgun under his coat. The three appear to check the street, then two flank the white car's rear door as the third opens it. Three more figures step from the back of the expensive luxury car: two very beautiful blonde women, each wearing a matching outfit - a white silk evening dress with a plush white fur coat on top. Each woman also sports a diamond necklace, bracelet, & earrings. The final figure from the car is a tall & athletic looking young man with pale skin, short platinum-blonde hair, & ice-blue eyes. This man is wearing an all-white suit, including white shirt, tie, fedora & gloves, with a white fur coat over the top. In his hand is a white diamond-topped cane. The two ladies each link arms with the man in the white suit, then all six of them enter the restaurant...

Back inside, the Whistler's keen hearing picks up the distinctive sounds of violence from the stairs to the restaurant - blows being struck & the groans as they hit. A few moments later the club's main door bursts open as one of the guards from the stairs tumbles out, unconscious. In rush the three blue-suited heavies - sawn-off shotguns at the ready. One of the men obviously guarding the club pulls his automatic pistol - a shotgun blast goes off, & the man is hurled back across a nearby table - his chest a bloody mess peppered (surprisingly) not with shot, but with what looks to be shards of ice ::blink ! Whistler also notices a thin sheen of frost covering the metal barrels of the shotguns. The band stops playing, several women scream, men get to their feet - or hide behind tables, depending on the strength of their backbones - & everyone stops to stare at the newcomers.

Once the room is quiet, the man in the white suit, & his two lady friends, enter. Vito Giovanni - on his feet, with his dragon-lady moved protectively behind him - narrows his eyes & calls out to the man in white,

"Viktor Eckhardt, what is the meaning of this? You know this was meant to be a peaceful meeting!"

Eckhardt smiles, a glint in his ice-blue eyes,

"That's not entirely true. The Big Man asked you all to attend with peacful intent. He didn't say anything about us being peaceful." ::sly

Back outside, a short while after the strange party entered the building, Black Lotus finds the restaurant patrons all rapidly exiting & disappearing into the night - looks of fear on their faces. Something appears to have occured... ::lookaround

[tooho]

Back outside, a short while after the strange party entered the building, Black Lotus finds the restaurant patrons all rapidly exiting & disappearing into the night - looks of fear on their faces. Something appears to have occured...

With all the confusion, Lotus tries to slide in the doors without being marked by the guards, attempting to slide in and duck down behind a table if possible. ::ninja

If seen she'll remove her hat and attempt to talk her way out of trouble. ::blush

Definitely attempting to slide to where all the action is but not without maintaining as much anonimity as possible. ::halo

If unmarked by guards, Lotus walks innocently upstairs listening and watching carefully for trouble to the main club area in part trying to mark where the six she saw enter have disappeared. At the point just before she can be seen from above the stairs, she'll listen carefully before attempting to leave the semi safe cover. ::bigsmile

(OOC: OOOh the fun.)

[Asbjørn]

A few moments later the club's main door bursts open as one of the guards from the stairs tumbles out, unconscious. In rush the three blue-suited heavies - sawn-off shotguns at the ready. One of the men obviously guarding the club pulls his automatic pistol - a shotgun blast goes off, & the man is hurled back across a nearby table - his chest a bloody mess peppered (surprisingly) not with shot, but with what looks to be shards of ice ::blink !

What the hell...?

The Watchman's own hand instinctively reaches inside his jacket, but he stops himself short of actually drawing his pistol. Instead he tries to get a closer look at the intruders' hardware.

The band stops playing, several women scream, men get to their feet - or hide behind tables, depending on the strength of their backbones - & everyone stops to stare at the newcomers.

Standing like all the others around him, the Watchman scans the crowd again - ready to take cover should the room suddenly turn into a killing field.

There has to be others in the crowd. Three guys isn't enough to control a room like this...

"Viktor Eckhardt, what is the meaning of this? You know this was meant to be a peaceful meeting!"

"That's not entirely true. The Big Man asked you all to attend with peacful intent. He didn't say anything about us being peaceful." ::sly

Oh, bugger. He's nuts.

Realizing that the newcomers most likely are willing to kill everyone in the room, the Watchman slowly edges his way out of the group he's standing in and pulls back to somewhere he can move more freely should the need arise.

[Prince of Boredom]

an Oriental beauty dressed-up in the style of a typical flapper (bobbed hairstyle, low-backed dress than ends at the knee, long string of pearls, cigarette in a long black holder, etc.) on his arm.

Bai Long pays close attention to the Asian woman as she walks to the table, attempting to discern if she fits the description of Mei Mei provided by Mrs. Wong.

A few moments later the club's main door bursts open as one of the guards from the stairs tumbles out, unconscious. In rush the three blue-suited heavies - sawn-off shotguns at the ready. One of the men obviously guarding the club pulls his automatic pistol - a shotgun blast goes off, & the man is hurled back across a nearby table - his chest a bloody mess peppered (surprisingly) not with shot, but with what looks to be shards of ice  ! Whistler also notices a thin sheen of frost covering the metal barrels of the shotguns. The band stops playing, several women scream, men get to their feet - or hide behind tables, depending on the strength of their backbones - & everyone stops to stare at the newcomers.

Having no problem with hoodlums killing other hoodlums, he stealthily steps back into the shadows of the club and, after checking that no one is watching him, dons his hood and pulls off his ‘borrowed’ suit, revealing his gee. *lucky thing this suit was oversized…*

Once the room is quiet, the man in the white suit, & his two lady friends, enter. Vito Giovanni - on his feet, with his dragon-lady moved protectively behind him - narrows his eyes & calls out to the man in white,

"Viktor Eckhardt, what is the meaning of this? You know this was meant to be a peaceful meeting!"

Eckhardt smiles, a glint in his ice-blue eyes,

"That's not entirely true. The Big Man asked you all to attend with peacful intent. He didn't say anything about us being peaceful."

Bai Long watches the interchange between the criminals with little interest, providing the majority of his attention to Mei Mei (assuming that’s who it is) and preparing to jump in and grab if she appears to be put in immediate danger…

[Heritage]

Polly grins ::biggrin,

"Why boss, are you trying to get me drunk?" ::wink

Karl laughs, probably a bit louder than he means to ::blush

Then, with a shrug, she adds,

"Anything that won't make me blind is fine."

He nods.

Scotch it is then, or whatever passes for scotch in this place.

In the main club, those looking around [with at least some dots in Savy] recognise quite a few known mobsters who are in tonight. There are hoods from Joe the Boss's organisation, guys from the Dutchman, Irish gangsters, even the Voodoo Queen's black hoodlums, & a group of inscrutible Orientals from the Black Dragon tong. Something is definitly going to happen, & not all the bad guys look comfortable with the idea of sharing the club with their peers from other gangs...

Returning with their drinks, Karl whispers to Polly as he hands her the scotch.

Looks like the entire underbelly of the Five Boroughs is here tonight - remind me to thank Ellen for her tip.

Karl is captivated by Cynthia's performance - he finds himself leaning forward, trying to take in every nuance of both her and her singing. he murmurs to himself.

Absolutely breathtaking.

At the end of her song, he 'remembers' Polly, and turns to her while he applauds enthusiastically.

She's - she's good, isn't she? ::blush

The Whistler's keen hearing picks up the distinctive sounds of violence from the stairs to the restaurant - blows being struck & the groans as they hit.

Karl cocks his head, then slides his hand under his coat, where he's concealed his cane in a special long pocket; he runs his fingers over the silver gargoyle head, ready to leap into action at a moment's notice.

A few moments later the club's main door bursts open as one of the guards from the stairs tumbles out, unconscious. In rush the three blue-suited heavies - sawn-off shotguns at the ready. One of the men obviously guarding the club pulls his automatic pistol - a shotgun blast goes off, & the man is hurled back across a nearby table - his chest a bloody mess peppered (surprisingly) not with shot, but with what looks to be shards of ice! Whistler also notices a thin sheen of frost covering the metal barrels of the shotguns.

What the devil...?

The band stops playing, several women scream, men get to their feet - or hide behind tables, depending on the strength of their backbones - & everyone stops to stare at the newcomers.

Karl moves to protect Polly, and whispers tersely in her ear.

Be ready for anything - if I have to make my move, get the innocent bystanders outside as quickly as possible.

Once the room is quiet, the man in the white suit, & his two lady friends, enter. Vito Giovanni - on his feet, with his dragon-lady moved protectively behind him - narrows his eyes & calls out to the man in white,

"Viktor Eckhardt, what is the meaning of this? You know this was meant to be a peaceful meeting!"

Eckhardt smiles, a glint in his ice-blue eyes,

"That's not entirely true. The Big Man asked you all to attend with peacful intent. He didn't say anything about us being peaceful."

Karl tenses, waiting to pounce, one hand on his fighting cane, the other on his opera mask in his left coat pocket, his body still sheilding Polly.

[Archer21]

Intrigued by the stunning redhead's performance, Ulfmund watches silently until her song is done. A broad grin stretches across his weathered face as he comments to Kettles, "By the Gods, what a woman! I will speak with her."

Draining his beer, he stands and sets the glass mug down, ready to introduce himself, and then...

One of the men obviously guarding the club pulls his automatic pistol - a shotgun blast goes off, & the man is hurled back across a nearby table - his chest a bloody mess peppered (surprisingly) not with shot, but with what looks to be shards of ice! The band stops playing, several women scream, men get to their feet - or hide behind tables, depending on the strength of their backbones - & everyone stops to stare at the newcomers.,,

Sharp eyes taking in the scene before him, the warrior hurriedly whispers to his friend. "I will distract them, do your best to escape, and take her with you." He nods at the woman from the alley.

Picking up his beer mug, Ulf' casually strolls towards the bar, pausing halfway there as he notices the bartender is now nowhere to be seen. Coincidentally, his pause places him directly between the opposing criminals. Frowning, he turns his head towards Vito Giovanni. Holding up his empty mug, he nods slightly towards the bar. Deliberately making his accent thicker than normal, he asks, "More beer?"

[ProfPotts]

Absolutely breathtaking.

Polly raises an eyebrow ::sly .

She's - she's good, isn't she?

"Yeah - sure boss. She's also got curves in all the right places..."

"B!tch..." ::angry

"By the Gods, what a woman! I will speak with her."

The doc smiles,

"I can hardly blame you. If I was ten years younger I'd give you a run for your money with that filly..." ::blush

At the sudden appearance of Eckhardt & his friends White Dragon takes the opportunity the distraction provides to slip out of his borrowed clothes & into the shadows, having decided that (after filtering out the embelishments common for an elderly female relation) the Chinese girl is, indeed, Mrs Wong's neice Mei Mei. The Watchman & The Whistler both prepare themselves for the worst.

Be ready for anything - if I have to make my move, get the innocent bystanders outside as quickly as possible.

The brief, almost imperceptable, nod from his sidekick is all the confirmation that The Whistler needs to know that she understands & awaits his move.

Meanwhile, upstairs: slipping quietly, unnoticed, inside the restaurant as everyone else leaves, Black Lotus finds no guards - until she opens the door to the stairs that lead down to the basement club. There she finds two men, who appear to have been swiftly beaten unconscious. However, it's not the two thugs which draw her attention, but the chill which is in the air & - about halfway down the stairs - the wall of ice that completely blocks the narrow passage ::blink ! The ice appears to be about twenty-five centimetres thick, & is translucent enough for Lotus to make out both muffled voices & the movement of light & shadows across the opening at the bottom of the stairs. It's also very cold - a thin coating of frost has spread some way up the stairs, walls & ceiling of the passageway.

"I will distract them, do your best to escape, and take her with you."

Kettles looks worried, & starts to whisper an answer,

"I don't think that's a good idea, old boy - remember what I told you about guns?.." ::lookaround

But it's too late - as the Viking is already on his way to the bar...

"More beer?"

Pretty much everyone is momentarily stunned by the strange man's bold (of foolhardy) gesture - including Eckhardt ::blink . But only for a moment...

"Frosty?" orders the man in the white suit. One of his blue-suited heavies takes a pace towards Ulf', commenting as he levels the shotgun,

"Sure thing, boss."

Frosty's finger squeezes the trigger of the deadly ice-loaded firearm... ::nervous

[Archer21]

"Frosty?" orders the man in the white suit. One of his blue-suited heavies takes a pace towards Ulf', commenting as he levels the shotgun,

"Sure thing, boss."

Frosty's finger squeezes the trigger of the deadly ice-loaded firearm...

His head turning at the sound of Eckhardt's voice, Ulf' shakes his head almost imperceptibly as the thug steps forward. Hurling the glass mug with all his strength at the shotgun-wielding goon, the Viking simultaneously leaps toward, and hopefully over, the bar to use it as cover.

[Prince of Boredom]

Remaining in the shadows, the White Dragon lies in wait, keeping his attention focused on Mei Mei, only revealing his existence if she appears to be in danger.

(Not doing anything unless 1) Mei Mei is directly attacked, 2) Her 'date' is attacked, 3) bullets start flying randomly and she is in danger of being hit. If one of those happens, he runs into the room and gets Mei Mei down and out of the fray.)

[tooho]

Lotus stares at the wall of ice with disgust. She crinkles her nose and stamps her foot angrily. ::crazy

*Things never go smoothly. *sigh* How to melt...* ::biggrin "Well, there went the silent approach."

She slips her hands behind her back to pull her shotgun out of her jacket. ::biggrin "I always enjoy this part."

She'll aim for dead center hoping to crack through the wall and splinter enough of a chunk for her to slip through to the other side.

[Asbjørn]

Frosty's finger squeezes the trigger of the deadly ice-loaded firearm...

Hurling the glass mug with all his strength at the shotgun-wielding goon, the Viking simultaneously leaps toward, and hopefully over, the bar to use it as cover.

That's it. Somebody's about to get killed. Better make sure it's someone who deserves it... ::sly

As the mug flies through the air, the Watchman moves quickly through the crowd and - when he's near enough - rushes the closest of the other blue-suited goons while he's focused on the mugthrowing gentleman and throws a punch to his jaw, then tries to wrestle the shotgun away from him.

[ezekiel]

Cynthia remains ducked behind a table near the stage, trying to determine which is the lesser of evils, "Frosty" or the mob...

[Heritage]

His head turning at the sound of Eckhardt's voice, Ulf' shakes his head almost imperceptibly as the thug steps forward. Hurling the glass mug with all his strength at the shotgun-wielding goon, the Viking simultaneously leaps toward, and hopefully over, the bar to use it as cover.

As the mug flies through the air, the Watchman moves quickly through the crowd and - when he's near enough - rushes the closest of the other blue-suited goons while he's focused on the mugthrowing gentleman and throws a punch to his jaw, then tries to wrestle the shotgun away from him.

Seeing the hulking Norseman and the unknown gentleman moving into action, Karl slips on his opera mask and hefts his cane.

Polly - now!

The Whistler leaps towards the nearest blue-suited goon, drops to a roll and slams his cane across the back of the thug's knees.

[ProfPotts]

Reacting with lightning reflexes to the threat posed by the shotgun weilding thug Ulfmund is moving before most know what is happening! The mug shatters across the gunman's chest, as the strange foriegner leaps towards the bar. Frosty lets out a loud grunt as the vessel impacts him, but swings his weapon in the rough direction of Ulfmund's leap & lets a powerful blast of icy shards explode forth! The side & top of the bar splinter as they're struck by the blast - which narrowly misses the Viking as he vanishes behind cover - shards of ice shatter glasses & bottles in their path, & send a spray of beer spurting from one of the barrels resting in the line of fire!

Polly - now!

At almost the same moment the suddenly opera-masked gent is charging up the steps from the area next to the stage & swinging at the nearest man in blue with his cane. The thug in question looks suitably surprised as The Whistler clears the top step at a leap, & rolls towards him - but quickly jumps backwards, narrowly avoiding the swipe the cane-weilding vigillante aims at his knees - & lowering his own shotgun to meet this new threat! The blast rips painfully across The Whistler's left shoulder as cruel splinters of ice imbed themselves deep into his unprotected flesh, but the floor next to him takes the worst of it as the plush carpet is ripped open & the floorboards beneath explode! [The Whistler is Wounded with Lethal damage]

Polly, meanwhile, is on her feet & trying to usher the customers by the stage towards one of the two doors which flank it. Doc Kettles appears to have a similar idea as he grasps his blonde companion's arm & tugs her towards what is most likely the dressing room (the door the other side being the office where Giovanni came from, & there not being any other doors within quick reach). However, whilst his men slowly react to the various gentlemen who have rushed them, Eckhardt himself appears both icily calm & well aware of everything that's going on. Narrowing his eyes, the white-suited man reaches his left hand towards the group of fleeing customers - stretching his fingers wide. For a moment a frosting of ice crystals glitter over the glove of his outstretched hand, & a pale tendril of white vapour surrounds it - simultaneously, amazingly, chill white vapour swirls in front of the door a full twenty-five meters across the room. Doc Kettles - the first to the door - pulls up short as the vapour clears, only to reveal a thick layer of ice covering & blocking the exit! ::blink

As the impossible display of cryonics occurs, The Watchman charges from his position, swinging a fist towards the third blue-suited goon's jaw. It appears the thug is no stranger to violence, as he manages to duck the blow & step away from the vigillante before the other man can grab his ice-cold weapon from his heavily-gloved hands. Too close to reasonably level the shotgun at his opponent the thug instead tries to smash the butt-end into his face. Luckily, The Watchman is also no stranger to violence &, in turn, ducks the savage, but inaccurate, blow...

Meanwhile, halfway up the stairs to the restaurant 'front' of the club, Black Lotus hears the muffled thumps of guns going off, pulls her own shotgun from her jacket & blasts the wall of ice blocking her path. The ice shatters, tripping & bouncing down the narrow stairs in various sized chunks, leaving the way clear, as residual frosty vapour drifts more lazily around the masked young lady.

With the sudden turn towards open violence the club descends into chaos. Most of the customers try to run from the melee - up into the casino area - or just fling themselves behind the nearest available cover. The various representatives of a criminal persuasion, however, react as their profession dictates, & haul out guns of their own - all except the small group of Chinese gentlemen who, although wearing suits typical of modern American fashions, draw a strange assortment of blades, chains, & clubs...

Most of the armed customers appear to draw pistols of various types - & the bullets soon start flying, although, behind the bar, Ulfmund witnesses the cowering bartender reach for a pump-action shotgun he has resting there. As Giovanni's men draw weapons & start to shoot (generally towards the guys in blue - although no-one is being choosy about where they aim), Vito shoves Mei Mei back through the door to his office, before re-emerging himself armed with a dread drum-loaded Tommy Gun!

As the lead starts to fly, Eckhardt's two molls also dive behind over-turned tables, each pulling a small automatic pistol from her garter.

Chaos reigns...

[tooho]

Lotus smiles as she dusts the ice particles off her jacket. Reloading as she walks down the stairs, she marks the whining gun fire farther inside the club and carefully makes her way towards it.

::confused "I'm missing the show. Must fix that." Lotus slides carefully along the wall. ::smile Standing crouched to the side of the door, she ducks down and tries to get a better idea of who's causing the pandamonium inside. Making quick darting looks into the room to try to make sense out of the chaos. ::lookaround

(OOC: She's staying here till she sees customers needing help or a familar faces to blast into oblivion.)

[Heritage]

At almost the same moment the suddenly opera-masked gent is charging up the steps from the area next to the stage & swinging at the nearest man in blue with his cane. The thug in question looks suitably surprised as The Whistler clears the top step at a leap, & rolls towards him - but quickly jumps backwards, narrowly avoiding the swipe the cane-weilding vigillante aims at his knees - & lowering his own shotgun to meet this new threat! The blast rips painfully across The Whistler's left shoulder as cruel splinters of ice imbed themselves deep into his unprotected flesh, but the floor next to him takes the worst of it as the plush carpet is ripped open & the floorboards beneath explode!

The Whistler's shoulder burns like blazes - these fellows were not afraid to play rough! The masked vigilante flips his cane over in his right hand, levels it at his assailant's left leg, and fires his concealed air rifle!

See how you like it!

[Prince of Boredom]

Still unimpressed by all of the commotion, and none too worried about criminals killing each other, Bai Long sticks to the shadows and heads over to Vito's office to check on Mei Mei. Glancing back at the melee ensuing, he starts to remember the newspaper article he was just reading, and begins putting names to faces (or masks as it were). *Hmm, the man with the cane must be the Whistler…*

He then turns and enters the office, ignoring any guards that may be with her (will go full defensive if he’s attacked) “(in Chinese) Mei Mei, I’m Bai Long. Your family is worried about you. This is no place for a lovely girl such as yourself; we must get you out of here.” He holds his hand out for her to come to him, and glances around to see if there are any exits out of the room other than the way he came in…

[Archer21]

Grinning like an idiot, Ulf' scrambles over to the broken barrel. Taking a few long deep draughts, he finally stops, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Belching contentedly, he eyeballs the bartender. "Do not move." , he says in a dangerously casual manner. Shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket, the long knives in their harness quickly make their way into the warrior's hands. Popping his head up for a moment, Ulf' scans the chaos.

*Hrm. The Whistler seems in trouble. Kettles escape is blocked by a thick wall of ice...this should be interesting.*

Scooting backwards to give himself room, Ulf calls upon the power of Fenris to lend strength to his legs. With a powerful leap, the Viking soars into the air above the fray. Mid-air, he hurls one of the scramaseaxes at Whistler's opponent, ready to avoid any attacks aimed his way.

(Basic throw, switch to full defensive if needed.)

[Asbjørn]

As the impossible display of cryonics occurs, The Watchman charges from his position, swinging a fist towards the third blue-suited goon's jaw. It appears the thug is no stranger to violence, as he manages to duck the blow & step away from the vigillante before the other man can grab his ice-cold weapon from his heavily-gloved hands. Too close to reasonably level the shotgun at his opponent the thug instead tries to smash the butt-end into his face. Luckily, The Watchman is also no stranger to violence &, in turn, ducks the savage, but inaccurate, blow...

Whoa! Better not get your hands on that gun after all, Jack... But it's not too safe to let this guy keep it either.

Ducked under the goon's wild swing of the shotgun, the Watchman lands a hard punch to his stomach, then follows with an uppercut to his jaw.

Hopefully he's big enough to shield me from the shooting that should start right... about... now!

Most of the armed customers appear to draw pistols of various types - & the bullets soon start flying, although, behind the bar, Ulfmund witnesses the cowering bartender reach for a pump-action shotgun he has resting there. As Giovanni's men draw weapons & start to shoot (generally towards the guys in blue - although no-one is being choosy about where they aim), Vito shoves Mei Mei back through the door to his office, before re-emerging himself armed with a dread drum-loaded Tommy Gun!

As the lead starts flying, the Watchman either throws himself out of the line of fire or - if his punches connected well enough - hunkers down and holds the unconscious goon up to shield him from the shots headed his way while moving out of the deadly hailstorm.

[ProfPotts]

Slipping through the shadows of the nightclub, using the chaotic battle to help cover his movements, the White Dragon prowls past the stage, towards Vito's office...

... however, when he reachs to doorway he soon realises that with Vito physically blocking the way (not to mention the two goons flanking their boss), sneaking in is an impossibility.

"Do not move."

Noticing the rather crazed gleam in the strange man's eye, the bartender grips his shotgun tighter, remains cowered behind the bar, & gives the Viking a rather nervous nod... ::nervous

Crouching as he draws his twin weapons, a faint wolf-like image momentarily seems to form around the Norse warrior, as a chill touches the air behind the bar, & a bestial growl can be heard... Suddenly Ulf' pounces impossibly high into the air & over the bar, hurling one of his long knives as he twists sideways to aim at the man threatening The Whistler. The blade flies true, slicing through the left shoulder of the man's heavy coat & drawing blood, & ending up imbedded in the floor behind him. Leveling his shotgun, ready to finish off the dazed & injured (& deafened) Whistler, the wound from Ulf's knife causes the blue-suited thug to stagger back a few paces & take a moment to stare stupidly at his own injured shoulder... Before angrily swinging his gun around towards where the Viking lands in an almost feral crouch... ::angry

The Watchman's punch makes a satisfying solid connection with his opponent's stomach - the man lets out a deep grunt, but still manages to dodge back from the follow-up blow to his chin. Again swinging the freezing sawn-off shotgun the thug this time tries to whip the barrel across The Watchman's face, but again the more skilled combatant ducks the wild blow - at the same time moving to make sure that his foe is between him & the almost-random gunfire that fills the room...

Taking a step back towards the entrance stairs, Eckhardt again extends his hand - chill vapours swirl in the air before him & a block of ice roughly two meters tall, a meter wide, & twenty-five centimeters thick (although thicker at the base & tapering towards the top) forms just in time to catch the hail of bullets meant for the man in the white suit! The ice chips & eventually shatters under the barrage, but Viktor himself gains enough time to duck back into the stair-well - where he comes face-to-face with Black Lotus! Nearly tripping over the crouching young lady as he steps backwards onto the stairs then turns, the white-suited man appears pretty surprised to see her ::blink !

"I..." the man starts to say, but he soon gathers his wits enough to furrow his brow & ask, "Just who are you?" Although his grip tightens slightly on his cane, the man seems to be undisturbed by the fact that Lotus is holding a shotgun...

As bullets fly across the room the third blue-clad gunman, Frosty, kicks over a nearby table & crouches down behind it. The more observant notice that he, & his similarly dressed friends, are actually each hit several times by incidental fire - but although they wince at the pain of the impacts, the way their heavy coats react to the shots suggests that they are, in fact, armoured...

... Still, left out in the open, the thug facing off against The Watchman proves that cleverly concealed armour is no substitute for actually getting out of the way - turning as he foolishly tracks his opponent's cunning movements, he ends up with his back to the majority of the room - & that's a target no self-respecting gangster could resist (shooting a man in the back is, after all, the safest way to go about it ::devil )! The man dances as rounds start to thud into him, then suddenly goes stiff as a lucky (or not, depending on where you're standing... ::sly ) shot catches him in the back of the head - the spray of brains & blood narrowly avoiding The Watchman as the bullet exits the man's forehead leaving a neat little hole. A moment later & the thug drops to his knees & is on his way to being face down on the floor when The Watchman catches him - propping the corpse up as a makeshift shield.

The thug with the wounded shoulder rolls behind an overturned table of his own - his friend's demise aparantly causing him to decide that shooting the Viking or The Whistler can wait for a moment. From his new location he yells out,

"Chill's brought it!"

Eckhardt's two gun-molls each fire at the enemy gangsters - a shot catches one of the Dutchman's goons in the shoulder & he goes down. Frosty ducks up from his cover & sends a blast of ice shards towards where the group of Tong representatives are crouched - shattering the table they were hiding behind & sending them running. Several of the other gangsters decide to use the opportunity to take care of old rivalries, & two of the Orientals drop bloodily to the floor before they reach new cover. Frosty calls back to his wounded collegue,

"Keep 'em pinned down, Blizzard." calling over to the two gun-molls he adds, "Sparkle, Glisten - make sure the boss is okay!"

Meanwhile, after completing his heroic leap, Ulf' finds himself in the line of an awful lot of fire, so rolls behind a rather attractive ceramic statue of a nude dancer that is near his position - shots follow him & start to chip away at his art deco cover.

The Whistler, however, is caught out in the open whilst too dazed from the blast to his shoulder to seek safety - several lethal shots riddle his body before he can regain his senses! There's a scream from across the room as Polly is witness to her boss's fate - Doc Kettles grabs & holds back the woman to prevent her from running into danger herself. One thought goes through the minds of all who observe the masked man's doom... "Surely no-one could have survived that?.."

[Time for some Dramatic Editing from Heritage I think... ::sly ]

[Archer21]

Polly's piercing scream carries easily over the din to Ulf's sharp ears. Peeking his head around his rapidly disappearing cover, he sadly notes the mulitiple impacts jerking at Whistler's prone and still form. Gauging the distance to the wall of ice blocking the exit, the Viking has an idea. He bellows across the room in his native tongue.

"Scholar! Get everyone clear of the ice wall!"

((If he can lift it))

With a grim set to his jaw, Ulf slams his remaining knife into it's sheath. Crouching to help him lift, Ulf' wraps his arms around the nude statue and hoists it off its pedestal! Grimacing at the weight of the thing, he turns it horizontal(keeping it somewhat between the gunfire and himself), then madly charges towards the ice-wall, the head of the statue aimed for the center of it!

((If he can't lift it))

The power of Fenrir flowing through his veins, the blonde warrior will again leap into the crossfire, hurling himself across the room and towards Whistler's bloody body. Doing his best to avoid being hit, he scrambles to drag the opera-masked man to cover.

[Prince of Boredom]

Hearing the scream from Polly, and noticing Whistler's body on the floor, the White Dragon suddenly appears from the shadows. Running as quickly as possible, he seems to completely ignore the bullets flying around, grabbing Whistler's body and dragging it back to the shadows when he gets there.

[Asbjørn]

A moment later & the thug drops to his knees & is on his way to being face down on the floor when The Watchman catches him - propping the corpse up as a makeshift shield.

With the dead man held between himself and the majority of the shooters, the Watchman quickly follows Eckhardt towards the stairwell, prepared to dodge any attack from the ice-wielding villain's goons - be they male or female.

Should he reach the stairs and the standoff there unmolested he'll draw a gun of his own and point it to Eckhardt's head. Nodding towards the stairs - his steel gray eyes glaring at the bastard over the dark glasses promising no easy way out - he says

"Keep moving, pal. Nice and easy. We're leaving this party."

Not taking his eyes off his prey, the Watchman addresses the shotgun-carrying figure

"Cover us, would you?"

[tooho]

"I..." the man starts to say, but he soon gathers his wits enough to furrow his brow & ask, "Just who are you?" Although his grip tightens slightly on his cane, the man seems to be undisturbed by the fact that Lotus is holding a shotgun...

"Do you not think the question should be, who are you? And what am I doing? I am Black Lotus, and you would be on your way out, I believe, which is not acceptable."

"Keep moving, pal. Nice and easy. We're leaving this party.

Not taking his eyes off his prey, the Watchman addresses the shotgun-carrying figure

"Cover us, would you?" "

::blink Lotus looks slightly confused. "Who are you to steal my prey? You would allow this man freedom from the justice those within would deal?" ::confused She keeps her gun trained in Ekhardt's direction though she looks questioningly towards The Whistler. "You should shoot him now and be done with him. There is much more filth to be removed."

[ProfPotts]

"Do you not think the question should be, who are you? And what am I doing? I am Black Lotus, and you would be on your way out, I believe, which is not acceptable."

The man in the white suit & coat gives a cold micro-smile in response,

"Cute, but I'm not in the mood."

In a flash an icy coating spreads over Black Lotus' shotgun, from the tip of the barrel to the end of the butt. Cracks follow in seconds - even as the intense cold prompts the young vigillante to drop the weapon before her hands are frostbitten - then the whole things shatters into fragments the moment it hits the stairs! ::nervous

"Scholar! Get everyone clear of the ice wall!"

Those bystanders who even bother to listen to the strange man's shout look confused by his alien tongue, although Kettles frowns, then blinks as he realises his friend's plan ::blink . Quickly the academic starts to shoo people back from the ice-blocked door...

With a grim set to his jaw, Ulf slams his remaining knife into it's sheath. Crouching to help him lift, Ulf' wraps his arms around the nude statue and hoists it off its pedestal! Grimacing at the weight of the thing, he turns it horizontal(keeping it somewhat between the gunfire and himself), then madly charges towards the ice-wall, the head of the statue aimed for the center of it!

More bullets 'pink' & 'chip' at the statue as Ulf' pounds from the main bar area, down the wide semi-circular steps to the area by the stage - gathering speed as he does so - & charges towards the blocked door! As he runs for... & then right past... the various gangsters holed up in the lower area of the club most pause in their gunfight to gape at the obviously insane (although equally obviously athletic) man! ::shocked

Letting his momentum carry him onwards, the Viking slams the statue full-tilt into the door to the right of the stage - smashing both the ice & the door beyond into fragments! At the point of impact the statue breaks in two, & Ulf' himself - carried by his powerful charge - crashes into the room beyond. As Doc Kettles, Polly, & the others cautiously peer into what turns out to be a dressing room, they spot movement from an open chest loaded with various outfits for the show. Moments later a slightly dazed Ulf' pops his head up from under a layer of sequined & tassled bikinis, a shapely pair of ceramic legs still clasped firmly in his hands, whilst the top-half of the nude statue rests rather provocatively face-down between his spread legs... ::lookaround ::blush ::biggrin

The dressing room turns out to have no exits, other than onto the stage (which it extends behind), but the bystanders are soon herded inside none-the-less - after all, it's out of the line of fire & safer than where they were.

Hearing the scream from Polly, and noticing Whistler's body on the floor, the White Dragon suddenly appears from the shadows. Running as quickly as possible, he seems to completely ignore the bullets flying around, grabbing Whistler's body and dragging it back to the shadows when he gets there.

The hooded man's sudden appearance [description please!] causes even more confusion amongst the various criminals - although one of the Tong members points & loudly proclaims,

"Aieee! Bai Long!" ::nervous

Having made his presence known, & burdened with The Whistler's body, White Dragon finds it impossible to again conceal himself, but does manage to carry himself & The Whistler to cover by diving over the nearby bar. Amazingly, the martial artist discovers that his burden still lives! Although his tuxedo is riddled with bullet holes, at close range White Dragon can see a lining of fine metal links - many now burst & bent out of shape - within The Whistler's outfit. Battered & bruised (but not perforated) by the multiple bullet impacts, the opera-masked man stirs again - only to look up at White Dragon's hooded face...

Meanwhile Blizzard continues to exchange fire with the other gangsters - blowing away cover with his more powerful ice-blasting gun. Frosty, ducked out of sight, produces a fist-sized frost-covered metal cylinder from inside his coat, pulls out a pin fixed to the top via a metal ring, & lobs it (without looking) over the table he's behind. The cylinder starts to vent chill vapour as it arcs through the air, then bounces down the three steps to the stage area, where it skitters & rolls to a halt up against a table that some of Joe the Boss's men are hiding behind. In the corner of the room, still framed by the door to his office, Vito Giovanni pauses in his stream of Tommy Gun fire towards the blue-clad thugs, eyes widening as he spots the cylinder ::shocked , then dives back through the door behind him - & not a moment too soon! With a loud 'bang!' the cylinder explodes, spraying the area with some sort of freezing liquid. The liquid rapidly evaporates, but everywhere it touches - floor, walls, ceiling, furnishings, & men - is frozen solid!

In that moment, the gunfight is won. The entire area near the stage is covered in ice - icicles hang from the ceiling, the air is chill as wisps of white vapour drift lazily around, & the gangsters opposing Eckhardt & his men are frozen statues!..

[Cynthia had time to get out of the way if she wanted to...]

The sudden frost spreads a little through the smashed door to the dressing-room, causing several of the bystanders within to shrink back & gasp, & a little up the stairs - but not as far as Eckhardt's men.

As the 'ice-grenade' goes off, the two gun-molls, Sparkle & Glisten, start towards the stairs & their boss, only to stop as they spot The Watchman moving towards them. As one, the twin beauties turn & rapid-fire their small automatic pistols - a couple of the shots thud into their friend's dead body, & others follow the [civilian clothed] vigillante as he drops the rapidly degenerating corpse & dives to one side - the bullets narrowly missing him...

Behind the bar the bartender - still clutching his shotgun in white-knuckled hands - gives White Dragon & The Whistler a nervous smile... ::lookaround

Through the main bar room, up the steps to the casino area beyond, the various club patrons who were trying their luck when the shooting started have fled - exiting the building through the back door. Those who were unfortunate enough to have been watching the stage show (or who fled the wrong way) are huddled in the dressing room with Ulf'.

[Archer21]

Moments later a slightly dazed Ulf' pops his head up from under a layer of sequined & tassled bikinis, a shapely pair of ceramic legs still clasped firmly in his hands, whilst the top-half of the nude statue rests rather provocatively face-down between his spread legs...

::blink ::biggrin ::laugh Glancing about himself and his predicament, Ulf' starts roaring with laughter. Extricating himself from the statue and clothing, he wipes a tear from his eye and beckons everyone inside. Plucking a brassiere from his head, he studies it for a second, then tosses it aside with a grin.

Winking at Polly ::wink , he steps towards the door's entrance and looks out, just as the ice-grenade explodes! Ducking back into the room, all trace of levity is gone from the Viking's expression now.

Stepping into the open doorframe, one hand draws the knife at his side; the other hand snaps out, reaching towards his knife still imbedded in the floorboards. The blade eerily pulls itself free, flying across the room into Ulf's waiting grasp.

With a snarl, the tuxedo-clad Viking sprints towards his enemies. Frosty and Blizzard are his two first targets...try as he might, he cannot bring himself to attack the gun-wielding women behind their table. Avoiding their bullets is something he has no compunction about, however.

[Asbjørn]

As the 'ice-grenade' goes off, the two gun-molls, Sparkle & Glisten, start towards the stairs & their boss, only to stop as they spot The Watchman moving towards them. As one, the twin beauties turn & rapid-fire their small automatic pistols - a couple of the shots thud into their friend's dead body, & others follow the [civilian clothed] vigillante as he drops the rapidly degenerating corpse & dives to one side - the bullets narrowly missing him...

Lucky, Jack. Too lucky to last. Better finish this.

Hitting the floor he rolls behind a table and comes up to face his attackers with his own pistol drawn. Half concealed behind his cover he rapidly fires two shots at the women - one at each if the first one drops after one shot, both at the same if required.

Justice is all for women's rights... ::sly

[tooho]

"Cute, but I'm not in the mood."

In a flash an icy coating spreads over Black Lotus' shotgun, from the tip of the barrel to the end of the butt. Cracks follow in seconds - even as the intense cold prompts the young vigillante to drop the weapon before her hands are frostbitten - then the whole things shatters into fragments the moment it hits the stairs!

Black Lotus looks crestfallen at the broken gun then up to the chilly stranger. "That was not nice."

::confused She keeps her hands at her sides, near to her guns but she waits to see if he will respond before she does anything rash. "But why? Why all the fighting?"

[Prince of Boredom]

Behind the bar the bartender - still clutching his shotgun in white-knuckled hands - gives White Dragon & The Whistler a nervous smile...

From his position leaning over the body of the Whistler, Bai Long looks up to notice the crazy bartender smiling at them. Without a second thought, he immediately leaps up, striking him in the groin, then wrapping his left arm around the man’s arms (essentially to make him unable to aim the shotgun), then sweeps his feet out from under him.

[Heritage]

The Whistler finally catches his breath and looks up at White Dragon.

Thank you, friend.

Once his head is clear, he looks horrified, for a moment dropping his crime-fighting persona.

Where's Polly? Is she-

He stops and composes himself.

Where is the young lady I came with? Have you seen her?

[ezekiel]

Meanwhile Blizzard continues to exchange fire with the other gangsters - blowing away cover with his more powerful ice-blasting gun. Frosty, ducked out of sight, produces a fist-sized frost-covered metal cylinder from inside his coat, pulls out a pin fixed to the top via a metal ring, & lobs it (without looking) over the table he's behind. The cylinder starts to vent chill vapour as it arcs through the air, then bounces down the three steps to the stage area, where it skitters & rolls to a halt up against a table that some of Joe the Boss's men are hiding behind. In the corner of the room, still framed by the door to his office, Vito Giovanni pauses in his stream of Tommy Gun fire towards the blue-clad thugs, eyes widening as he spots the cylinder  , then dives back through the door behind him - & not a moment too soon! With a loud 'bang!' the cylinder explodes, spraying the area with some sort of freezing liquid. The liquid rapidly evaporates, but everywhere it touches - floor, walls, ceiling, furnishings, & men - is frozen solid!

In that moment, the gunfight is won. The entire area near the stage is covered in ice - icicles hang from the ceiling, the air is chill as wisps of white vapour drift lazily around, & the gangsters opposing Eckhardt & his men are frozen statues!..

[Cynthia had time to get out of the way if she wanted to...]

[she did]

Cynthia starts running in her high heels, no mean feat, and throws herself out of the way, into the orchestra pit screaming

"Help!"

[ProfPotts]

"Help!"

The famed singer vaulted into the relative safety of the orchestra pit moments before the ice grenade went off.

Striking like a coiled snake, White Dragon leaps across to the nervous bartender, punching the surprised man hard in the groin ::blink ::shocked ! The guy doesn't even have time to scream as his eyes roll back & he collapses unconscious, curled tightly into a ball.

"That was not nice."

The man in the white suit gives the young vigillante a slight smile,

"It wasn't a nice thing to point at someone." ::sly

"But why? Why all the fighting?"

"Ask the guy who threw the first punch."

Unlike others Black Lotus has encountered, the way this man looks at her hints that he understands the potential threat she could be - his stance, & his grip on the diamond-topped cane, remain guarded - his eyes watching for any sudden moves...

Regaining his senses (& his hearing) The Whistler directs his questions to the man who just sucker-punched the cowering bartender...

Thank you, friend... Where's Polly? Is she- ... Where is the young lady I came with? Have you seen her?

Suddenly Ulf's blade works itself loose from where it was imbedded into the floorboards & flies - seemingly under its own power - across the room, only to be caught by its owner as he sprints towards his targets! The strange owner of the blades appears to be an old hand at running on ice, not even breaking his stride as he rapidly crosses the slippery floor & leaps up the steps to where Frosty & Blizzard remain ducked behind cover. The two blue-suited men double-take: first at the animate knife, then (as they duck above their cover to see where it went) at the almost primal man bearing down on them! ::blink

Both of Eckhardt's thugs whip their shotguns around to blast Ulf'. Even as the Viking dives over their cover, Frosty gets lucky - his wild blast clips Ulf's ribs! The ice-shards only scrape-by though, & don't imbed, leaving the Viking with some deep scratches & a ruined shirt, but nothing he hasn't suffered in the past. [ulf' is Bruised with Lethal damage] Blizzard, on the other hand, has luck of a different sort - he pulls the trigger of his frost-coated gun, but nothing happens... For a second he stares stupidly at the thing, then...

BOOM!

... Blizzard's gun explodes, splattering freezing liquid & white vapour all around! Moments later the vapour clears, revealing the gun's owner as frozen as the gangster victims of his friend's ice-grenade, locked into a pose of surprise, with half of the expolding weapon in either hand - a moment locked in time... ::crazy

Meanwhile, the Watchman rolls behind some cover of his own, & comes up firing! His first shot catches Sparkle in the shoulder - she screams & clutches at the wound as she drops to her knees behind the nearest overturned table. The vigillante's second shot goes wild. Glisten joins her friend behind the impromtu wooden shield & pops up to take a shot at the Watchman, only to have her small pistol jam! She quickly ducks back, as very un-lady-like comments from her drift across the room...

[Archer21]

"Help!"

*Hmm...must get to her when I've the chance. Rescued maidens are grateful maidens...* ::biggrin

Both of Eckhardt's thugs whip their shotguns around to blast Ulf'. Even as the Viking dives over their cover, Frosty gets lucky - his wild blast clips Ulf's ribs! The ice-shards only scrape-by though, & don't imbed, leaving the Viking with some deep scratches & a ruined shirt, but nothing he hasn't suffered in the past.

The Viking snarls at the bruising impact, readying a simultaneous attack on the shotgun-wielding mooks.

Blizzard's gun explodes, splattering freezing liquid & white vapour all around! Moments later the vapour clears, revealing the gun's owner as frozen as the gangster victims of his friend's ice-grenade, locked into a pose of surprise, with half of the expolding weapon in either hand - a moment locked in time...

With a toothy grin, Ulf' turns his full attention to Frosty, twin blades whistling through the air.

[tooho]

"Help!"

The young vigilante flinches at the yell and almost reflexively turns to look at the sqirmish within.

"It wasn't a nice thing to point at someone."

::blink "You are of course correct, sir, but as I don't know who you are, it can be forgiven can it not?" A smile twitches her mouth as she shifts her weight and left over slivers of ice crunch beneath her. "It's not like I placed huge ice walls to block the exit of terrified bystanders, now is it?" ::sly

"Ask the guy who threw the first punch."

Watching him carefully, "And I don't suppose you are going to tell me who that was? Or even why?" For a moment her inner pain shows and her eyes look saddened by the weight of her world.

Unlike others Black Lotus has encountered, the way this man looks at her hints that he understands the potential threat she could be - his stance, & his grip on the diamond-topped cane, remain guarded - his eyes watching for any sudden moves...

She carefully keeps her body still though surprise lights her face. "I've not a reason to attack you, yet, stranger. Please don't give me one. Is it not enough, I have to replace my gun?"

If no response,

Black Lotus bows slightly to the stranger, and ducks into the room, trying to reach the scream for aid heard earlier dodging opponents and bullets as she runs.