Post by Mortifero on Dec 7, 2019 22:09:56 GMT
Like a shadow dancing through the lights, Rome moved through the crowd with ease, despite the numerous people moving about to the music around him. The sound was being produced by a number of speakers that were hanging from a metal frame that lined the ceiling. A majority of the speakers hung around the edge of the dance floor itself, while only a few were actually scattered throughout the rest of the nightclub. There were an additional two speaker that were embedded into the wall that rested right in front of the club DJ's booth. It was not far from the booth that Rome seemed to hone in on a group dancing together. As he moved towards the group, he took in everything he could around him, though he did not do this consciously.
Rome's childish demeanor did many things in his favor. It made him extremely unpredictable for one, gave him unrestricted thought, and caused many to underestimate him. Despite how he acted, Rome was actually quite the little genius. He was constantly taking in information, but unfortunately that childishness also limited just how much of it that he was actually aware of. Mainly, he was well adapted at memorizing things that he was aware he had seen. This would especially be useful to him here in a few moments when, unbeknownst to him, Leo would cut the power to the club. No, for now he was more focused on gaining ground on the group. Now that he was closer, he could see that they were mainly women, though a few men seemed to be with them as well. The group as a whole became less interesting to him by the step. However, his focus simply began to move to one woman amongst their numbers, more than on the group as a whole. He hadn't been able to tell until now, but he was certain now that it was her. He could feel it almost... She was an enforcer of law, but feared chaos. She came here to be close to her fear, to feel that exhilaration of being so close. She was what drew him to the club in the first place, he knew that now. He could feel it. She had been visiting this place every night since his arrival, and that was what had been pulling at him. She did this. She feared chaos. SHE REFUSED HIS NIGHTMARE! No longer though. He had her, and she would not escape him now. As quick as he could, Rome suddenly pulled up right behind her. The woman froze, her brown here slowly swaying from the momentum of her dancing. "Order is nothing, but a shroud across your eyes. There is only lies in the guise of a lawful structure. The only structure that exist is the law of nature. That law being, chaos reigns over all things. Those who cannot see, are doomed to die," as he spoke, Rome pressed Leo's knife into her palm, folding her fingers around it's hilt, "While you just let it consume you, or will you survive?" As Rome asked, he released her hand and stepped away. Not even he was sure what it was he had just done, but it had been instinctual... Or something deeper than that. He could see her looking down at the knife. Rome's head split as his monstrous grin returned to his face just a moment before the woman lunged forward, slashing at the closest person to her, one of her friends. The victim yelled in surprise and pain, alerting others around them to what was happening. The one wielding the knife was somewhat trained, and was now armed, so she was taking care of herself fairly well. Stabbing and slashing, making sure to keep some distance. It was not long before the club suddenly succumbed to darkness. Screams and yelling quickly rose. Those screams that came from near Rome was indication of the knife finding flesh. Taking advantage of the darkness, Rome also decided to join in on the fun. His Dark Particle Armor manifest out of his body before his fist, and tails, started lashing out at those closest to him. His own vision wasn't as enhanced as Leo's was, but he could still see those within arm's reach. These blows coming from nowhere only intensified the numbers of screams. However, unknown to him, there was someone in the club that could see unhindered by the darkness. Those eyes were keenly watching Leo and Rome. |
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Post by Reya Starlyght on Dec 10, 2019 21:30:29 GMT
Even before Leo brandished his blades, the distinct, harsh echoes of conflicts played music on his ear. The screams, yes, they had originated from above, the overly zealous bass replaced with a soprano of horror. Tracing the sound, his sight made contact with the void soon leading back to Rome. Perhaps, then, the faint ambient light leaking from a window was enough to give the other patrons of the establishment a degree of vision, for it seemed the region around him had broken into a semi-intelligible fight, although Leo had never truly been able to see from the perspective of those who were blinded at the simple flick of a switch.
Down below, however, blood did not yet run. A travesty, he sought out the brutality much like others merely hungered for sustenance, a primal desire that was, in the end, unabated by concepts such as morality, logic, and reason. Violence, it whispered sweet nothings in his ear, and palms stretched out wide he obliged, at once his chosen weapons materialized. A smirk still plastered on his visage, Leo advanced upon the writhing crowd, focus suddenly and abruptly zoning out any consequences of his actions in favor of that ever ebbing rhythm of life, a balance so delicate and easy to crush.
He perceived the details of the mass with a casual expertise, clusters of different social strata now straying from their origins as darkness took hold, and at that point did Leo lunge forward, steel coming to bear with flesh as a cry echoed. "Do take out your weapons; I know you have them." Yet despite the polite nature of the phrasing his words were spoken with complete malevolence, even as the man he had struck so imprecisely swiveled toward his voice. A firearm was produced from his belt, neck wreathed in tattoos that detonated an underworld connection - Leo didn't have to know the city well to deduce such. "Are you sure you want to do that?" he asked, as the man's finger caressed the trigger, stance still nearly at point blank. His subject displayed a moment's hesitation, before the discharge of ammunition rang throughout the club. A brief flash of light, followed by another, another, Leo had ducked out of the way at last second, a patron used as target practice in his stead. "Oops," he remarked from behind the man who, even in the dim light, had seen his misdeed by his expressions alone. Before he could offer any further response, however, Leo plunged List through his back, piercing the heart.
Soon after, his swords flared out upon the bystanding audience, although it quickly devolved into a cacophony of gunfire and momentary flashes of light after the first disruption had struck. That was the glory of havens of crime, he supposed, a single act of bloodshed only ever begot more, as the bright ichor consumed the establishment in its vibrancy. Truth to be told, Leo preferred it when they fought back, not because of any true moral dilemma, so to speak, but because it made things more entertaining, the prospect of a life put on the line, the adrenaline that flowed from such risk. Peace was nothing if a fleeting fantasy, after all, every time he had clung to its principles a scar had been engraved into his persona, one after another, despite the lack of any physical comparison.
A slash, stab, duck, and parry, it was amusing how little even the so-called guards of the nightclub knew when it came to martial prowess, their concerns evidently more on intimidation and lackluster shoot-outs than the skill it required to wield something that didn't merely have a barrel and a toggle. Among a plethora of other things, Leo had always felt disappointed that the modern world offered so little when it came to subjects such as, well, true dueling he supposed - anything that had once resembled acts of violence taken on by sport had been reduced to mere games with little true danger involved. Then again, he wasn't chased by devoted fanatics with pitchforks and torches quite as much anymore, which Leo supposed was a fair trade off.
All the while, he had been steadily advancing toward where Rome had struck against the attendees of the bar. Corpses laid in his wake, correct, but more so was it the spread of conflict itself, even as the sheer clustered condition of the combat left him with wounds of his own, although no injury was severe enough to prompt a fuss about, at least for Leo himself. If anything, he reveled in them, the sliver of pain enough to remind him of the truth of the blows he inflicted onto others. Yet as he approached the one who had suggested such an intriguing venture in the first place something caught Leo's senses, an entity who didn't seem to belong in a place so quickly turned dark. Whatever it was soon escaped his grasp, however, as his surroundings proved to be euphoric enough on their own.
Down below, however, blood did not yet run. A travesty, he sought out the brutality much like others merely hungered for sustenance, a primal desire that was, in the end, unabated by concepts such as morality, logic, and reason. Violence, it whispered sweet nothings in his ear, and palms stretched out wide he obliged, at once his chosen weapons materialized. A smirk still plastered on his visage, Leo advanced upon the writhing crowd, focus suddenly and abruptly zoning out any consequences of his actions in favor of that ever ebbing rhythm of life, a balance so delicate and easy to crush.
He perceived the details of the mass with a casual expertise, clusters of different social strata now straying from their origins as darkness took hold, and at that point did Leo lunge forward, steel coming to bear with flesh as a cry echoed. "Do take out your weapons; I know you have them." Yet despite the polite nature of the phrasing his words were spoken with complete malevolence, even as the man he had struck so imprecisely swiveled toward his voice. A firearm was produced from his belt, neck wreathed in tattoos that detonated an underworld connection - Leo didn't have to know the city well to deduce such. "Are you sure you want to do that?" he asked, as the man's finger caressed the trigger, stance still nearly at point blank. His subject displayed a moment's hesitation, before the discharge of ammunition rang throughout the club. A brief flash of light, followed by another, another, Leo had ducked out of the way at last second, a patron used as target practice in his stead. "Oops," he remarked from behind the man who, even in the dim light, had seen his misdeed by his expressions alone. Before he could offer any further response, however, Leo plunged List through his back, piercing the heart.
Soon after, his swords flared out upon the bystanding audience, although it quickly devolved into a cacophony of gunfire and momentary flashes of light after the first disruption had struck. That was the glory of havens of crime, he supposed, a single act of bloodshed only ever begot more, as the bright ichor consumed the establishment in its vibrancy. Truth to be told, Leo preferred it when they fought back, not because of any true moral dilemma, so to speak, but because it made things more entertaining, the prospect of a life put on the line, the adrenaline that flowed from such risk. Peace was nothing if a fleeting fantasy, after all, every time he had clung to its principles a scar had been engraved into his persona, one after another, despite the lack of any physical comparison.
A slash, stab, duck, and parry, it was amusing how little even the so-called guards of the nightclub knew when it came to martial prowess, their concerns evidently more on intimidation and lackluster shoot-outs than the skill it required to wield something that didn't merely have a barrel and a toggle. Among a plethora of other things, Leo had always felt disappointed that the modern world offered so little when it came to subjects such as, well, true dueling he supposed - anything that had once resembled acts of violence taken on by sport had been reduced to mere games with little true danger involved. Then again, he wasn't chased by devoted fanatics with pitchforks and torches quite as much anymore, which Leo supposed was a fair trade off.
All the while, he had been steadily advancing toward where Rome had struck against the attendees of the bar. Corpses laid in his wake, correct, but more so was it the spread of conflict itself, even as the sheer clustered condition of the combat left him with wounds of his own, although no injury was severe enough to prompt a fuss about, at least for Leo himself. If anything, he reveled in them, the sliver of pain enough to remind him of the truth of the blows he inflicted onto others. Yet as he approached the one who had suggested such an intriguing venture in the first place something caught Leo's senses, an entity who didn't seem to belong in a place so quickly turned dark. Whatever it was soon escaped his grasp, however, as his surroundings proved to be euphoric enough on their own.
