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Entry tags:

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Who: Giovanni (

ofobedience), Crowley (

eusford), and Keith (

emblazes)
What: Capturing a fugitive
When: idk, before the shady man is caught by PCs!
Where: back alleys of the red light district
Warning(s): violence

[It would have been safer, perhaps, to remain on the run. He'd exited the city with little difficulty, spent minutes hours days now on the road, camping out with some of the other fugitives, leaving the beginnings of familiarity behind all over one stupid act that he may have thought better of if it weren't for his own twisted background and limited knowledge of the outside world. If it weren't for the fact that, to him, the request had seemed a perfectly reasonable one. Ah, well. Hindsight and all that jazz.

It would have been safer, yes, but irritation burns in him, irritation at his own failings but also directed toward the person who roped him into this mess to begin with and wouldn't it feel good to have that shady man's blood on his hands up between his teeth to hear him scream as his bones break beneath Giovanni's hands? It would, and it's a thought that gets the better of him, in the end.

As such, he's been stalking and slinking around the city for a few days now, dressed in jeans and a hoody that stand in bright contrast to his usual sharp-edged attire, the entire ensemble a little too big, too loose, purloined as they had been from his roommate. His sunglasses are nowhere in evidence, hair swept back and away from his face and hood pulled low to obscure his distinctive bonestructre as best he can. For the most part he's been careful...but he's getting closer now he thinks and the closer he gets the more honed and narrowed his focus becomes until he isn't paying quite as much attention as perhaps he should to who else might be out on the hunt, tonight.

Getting close, working out where he is what he's doing where he's been, sniffs him out like a dog with its nose to the ground even as he slinks around in the shadows, just out of sight. Following him. Making sure.

Biding his time.

He moves cool and quiet through the nighttime streets, the words he wants to say already slicing into the tip of his tongue like razors or broken slithers of glass and he imagines how it'll go, his lips to that bastard's ear, maybe the barrel of the gun pressed into the small of his back like an intimate gesture gone wrong.

As he enters the dank little alleyway stained red by the district's distinctive lights, this is all he's thinking of. Distracted, then. Off-guard.]

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[ Crowley would like to think that he's adjusted to having the unexpected pushed on him, but with the absence of a certain someone the requests have admittedly become so routine and mundane that life had become boring. So of course he sees the interruption of peace as a possibility of gaining some form of entertainment, which ends up being even more amusing when he sees a list of familiar names. But of course when he's ready to leave on his own does the Royal Guard announce to him that he'll have someone tagging along. A child, no less, which earns a tight lipped smile.

To say that Keith wasn't necessary in his perspective would be an understatement. Though rather than complain (much), Crowley only allows that addition as there's more energy spent on saying anything.

The lights of the red light district begin to light the roads and many alleyways, the sun beginning to set, and as per usual he's making his usual rounds while at the same time paying close attention to the faces passing. And the familiarity that hits him isn't through sight, but rather scent, so subtle and light that it nearly manages to slip past him when the round a street corner. He of course is quick to act and to ensure that Keith follows he's grabbing the young boy by his collar and yanking—actually, he may just come to the quick conclusion that his feet are leaving the ground with ease. ] Shut up. [ Hushed, fingers gripped tightly around clothes as he physically carries the boy with him until careful steps come across the back of someone familiar. ]

Giovanni~ [ The name leaves in a teasing tone as he finally let's go of Keith... by tossing him over at the hooded man. ] There you are!

[Keith, on the other hand's, indifferent to his company. They're both working toward a similar goal, trying to bag a guy he'd been sour about since the explosion. His company, Crowley, is a quiet guy? Which is fine by him. A few assumptions are made about dedication and seriousness -- but Crowley isn't his focus. He's vigilant, tipped off in advance about a suspicious man in the area; the hooded figure moves just within his peripheral--]

What?!

[It's quiet, but adverse all the same. He wasn't even saying anything? Moreover, he's suddenly lifted and carried for absolutely no reason at all...]

Hey-!

[He isn't even allowed enough time to escape; he's just. Thrown. At Giovanni. Incoming.............................]

[He doesn't turn when he picks up a scent of his own, two scents in fact, familiar in ways that he doesn't want right now. Picks up on the scent and the pitter-pat sound of them, soft and swift as Crowley's movements might be, but these little clues as to his fellow Guards' proximity come too quick and sudden for him to make a clean break, for him to run or take to the rooftops. And then there's the sound of Crowley's voice deceptively friendly in the red-lit gloom of the alley, and still he doesn't turn, curses softly under his breath. Not now, he's busy he's close he's--

--narrowly avoiding being hit by a flying teenager??

Smoothswift he steps to the side (sorry Keith, but it's the wall you're going to end up crashing against) and in the same fluid movement he's drawing both pistols, levels one at the boy on the ground (or wherever he happens to be in that moment), the other at Crowley's head. Half his face is obscured by shadow, but the crooked twist of his smile is visible enough. He takes one step away, then two.]

This looks like fun and all, but I'm playing another game right now.

[ Crowley promptly ignores the fact that Keith is possibly bruised now after making contact with the wall, not even offering a sympathetic wince or bat of his eyelashes when the alleyway erupts in the sound of the crash. It's not like he threw him too hard, he's not going to be breaking anything unless he's as fragile as a piece of glass.

And so it should be no surprise that he doesn't flinch when there's a gun pointed at his head. his hand comfortably dropping down and placing itself against the handle of his sword. A bullet made by humans isn't going to be enough to kill him, at the very least he'll be stunned briefly until his body regenerates. ]

Oh, we're not here for any games. [ Though it certainly seems as if he's taking the situation as one, his voice remaining calm as day and his eyes not wavering from Giovanni's figure. If he's going to take two steps back then he'll effectively take three steps forward. ] Not today, unfortunately, we've got work to do. And since it's obvious you know what this is let's cut to the chase. The kid and I are both very busy people. [ His fingers curl around the handle of his sword as he pulls the blade from its sheath. ] He's got a curfew, you know? [ Don't be distracted by his bullshit Keith... he's the distraction. ] So sword, drink my blood.

[ Several spikes suddenly erupt from the hilt of his sword, piercing through the palm of his hand and within seconds the blade transitions in color from silver to a bright blood red. ]

[Into he the wall he goes, marked by an audible oof. He'll save the lectures for later, but he's certain this...wasn't part of the plan? Like, if they'd talked at all besides mutually agreeing on the goal here, he's certain this would have fallen under Some Ideas Are Bad Ideas And This Is One Of Them. He's without any scrapes only because his Marmora uniform's a durable thing, but bruises? He'll find out later.

By the time he's gathered himself up -- onto a knee, he finds himself being targeted by a pistol?! Another reason they probably should have had a dialogue along the way -- a what if sort of thing, but whatever. He'll tug his blade out from the sheath at the small of his back; Crowley's talking, and he'll use that as an opportunity to unlock his own weapon's potential. Silently -- the hilt only emits a dull purple glow as the blade expands into something more swordlike....but all in all he's lying in wait, looking between Crowley and Giovanni, still fairly worried about that pistol? He's not sure how willing he'd be to overthrow whatever weird truce he's got with Lance and, I dunno, blow his head off, but he's 80% sure that's all but been dissolved as per this specific situation.]

[His attention doesn't waver or break, and even with his blood-coloured gaze fixed on Crowley's smug face, he keeps Keith in his periphery, attends to those small moves he's making, the gradual drawing of his sword. Still, it's Crowley who retains the majority of his concern-- the boy, he thinks, he should be able to handle without breaking so much as a sweat should the two of them find themselves alone, and it's not as though he isn't accustomed to fighting multiple enemies simultaneously. It's only that he isn't entirely sure what Crowley is capable of, isn't certain which of them is faster stronger better and this sure is a hell of a time to have to find out.

He should run, probably. Shouldn't waste time with sticking around to discover who is best poised to win this little scuffle, but he's loathe to turn his back on an enemy - because that's what they are right now, isn't it? - who he doesn't fully understand. Dislikes, in general, running from a fight. But one should pick one's battle, and this isn't the one he'd wanted, today.

Then there are Crowley's final words, the sudden eruption of spikes from the sword, the feeling of something unpleasant encroaching and he doesn't want to wait longer than needed to find out what thay something might be. So he's skipping lightly to one side, movements smoothslick and a little too fast to rightly be called human, and before Crowley can strike with that ominous sword, he's pulling the trigger in a flash of light and gunsmoke and sound.

Keith may be relieved to find he aims only for Crowley, that the gun pointed at him remains quiet and still.

The bright clatter of the bullet rings loud in the alleyway, and this time Giovanni does turn and run.]

[ Wonderful job, Keith. Way to stay conscious.

He expects the firing of bullets when he exposes himself, because if Giovanni remembers clearly he not once used the blood within his own veins to enhance his strength while fighting against those thugs. But he knows all too well of the regenerating abilities the man holds, something that isn't human and thus he needs to strike with the intent to kill.

Fortunately enough he's accustomed to bullets flying thanks to a certain human from home. These are unlike those very bullets, however, that were imbued with the demonic properties to kill his kind, and he doesn't even hold his breath while deflecting each one that came flying in his direction. I hated writing that sentence, I hope y'all hate reading it... playing OP characters in 2017 really makes ya think. Anyway getting back to the tag Crowley advances forward at an admittedly slow pace, but if only because he extends his sword arm and swings his blade in a vertical motion to send a powerful blast of air. And surprisingly enough he's being awfully considerate of the direction and ensuring that it doesn't stray far enough to accidentally hit Keith. ]

[See, they really should've strategize a bit. This isn't at all how things looked in his mind prior to all of this. Similiarly, he wasn't aware of any supernatural abilities Crowley possessed and so his attention's divided -- not evenly, but divided all the same. There's movement to his side -- Giovanni, and he only hesitates at the blast of that gun. Things would be different if he had his shield with him.

Alas, he does not; he's shaken, but the bullet wasn't meant for him...thankfully, as it would've pierced the bicep he's using to protect his face. The slow start after Giovanni may end up benefiting him on principle of Crowley also possessing the power of Wind from The Adventures of Captain Planet and proceeding to showboat that ability.

Whatever, bowlcut's gotta deal with bad weather and a squishy teen bringing up the rear.]

[Come on now Crowley, that's totally cheating! Giovanni might even have pointed that out too, if it weren't for the fact that said blast of wind slams into his swift-retreating form, takes him utterly be surprise as it hurls him forward on a collision course with the nearest wall. He's bodily thrown against the red coloured stones of the alleyways far wall, hard, and there's the sickening crunch of breaking bones intermingled with the low sound he makes when the collision knocks the breath right out of him.

He hits the pavement in a not at all elegant way that will certainly displease him, but he's already moving, pulling himself to his feet with the wall as support and his discernibly broken shoulder rapidly mending. Lips pulled back into a razor-toothed snarl, he levels the gun held in his undamaged right arm, fires again, onetwothree, aim steady and sure but perhaps a little useless when he's attempting to avoid Keith and Crowley can quite clearly handle this.]

[ His face splits into a predatory grin, a successful hit on his prey that brings a rare sense of excitement to course through him. Though he's not exactly having fun. Especially when he's forced to hold back to ensure two things: not to hurt Keith and not to kill Giovanni.

Actually they both might fall into the same category. He can't kill either of them and this is bullshit honestly. ]

Go, Keith~ [ Look he's being supportive; slowly blinking when his sword again cuts through the bullets that come in his direction. One coming close to his cheek, earning a small glance at most before his focus settles on both of the younger men. ] Pin him down and then I'll break his legs.

[ He's being... serious... yikes. ]

Watch out for the teeth.

[Weird and unusual. Giovanni looks like he's already on his last leg, uh, kind of. It's like one of those scenes out of a bullfighting ring; he's still got some fight in him, but -- but okay. He'll proceed onward, jolting ahead like Usain Bolt if Usain Bolt was a knife-wielding teenager out for blood.

And through his mad dash, he's decided: that gun's gotta go; sure, he's not being targeted by it specifically, but they're a duo here. Crowley can handle it, but his focus would be useful elsewhere.

That Galran blade of his goes air born in chucking it at Giovanni -- specifically aiming for the hand toting that firearm. Whether it pierces his hand, arm, whatever, he hasn't mapped out a specific coordinate in his brain and isn't at that skill level just yet anyway. So long as it makes enough contact to disable the dang thing...]

[He should try to evade it, try to avoid taking any further damage than he already has done, but perhaps the most significant flaw of a creation such as himself is that, when one doesn't need to concern oneself with one's injuries, they're often simply ignored. He sees it, hears it, the swish of the blade as it cuts through the air and embeds itself in his forearm, drawing a hissed exhalation from him as his arm is thrust back against the wall, momentarily pinned there. There's blood and there's smoke spilling out of the wound as he fires off a few more bullets as though nothing has happened at all, seems dramatically less concerned than perhaps he should be. Instead he's moving his left hand - the bones of arm and shoulder both already healed, already mended - to yank himself free and to throw hurl the knife to the ground.]

Well, that's charming. Just when I thought we were beginning to get along.

[Words aimed at Crowley or at Keith? Both perhaps. Whatever the case, he's abruptly moving to holster the guns, to dash rapidly in Keith's direction as his second injury rapidly heels and then he's bodily lifting the boy from the ground, intending to hurl him right back at Crowley as the vampire had done just moments before. Sorry Keith, this isn't you're night.]

Now if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to.

[He really is hoping Keith will knock Crowley down or at the very least distract him, whilst he makes to rush around him and back the way he came.

A mistake, perhaps.]

[ Definitely Keith, because in all the instances Giovanni and Crowley had even so much as looked at each other's general direction there was no way that they were ever getting along. But of course he does register as general sarcasm and so there's no feelings hurt here or there, besides he has a whole manchild being thrown at him and he needs to actually save him for once.

So he uses an arm to wrap itself around Keith, ensuring that he's not meeting the cold alleyway floor or a nearby wall. Though the collusion might still hurt because Crowley's the equivalent of a truck so really was this an accomplishment??

But it's definitely a mistake on Giovanni's behalf, because as Crowley quickly balances himself he extends his sword arm and brings the blade to the man's stomach. Wow he's really about to gut a man because he knows he won't die... oh well, Gio should be used to that by now. ]

[American Horror Story: Freakshow, the boy cannonball. Before he can even retrieve his blade, he's seized and sent in reverse, hurling back towards a would-be ally this time, at least. A groan marks the moment of impact -- a bara arm is not, surprisingly, the nicest way to land -- not the kindest thing to land between, rather? He'll generously provide himself all of two seconds to recover before he's kicking like a deer trapped in a fence.]

This is getting really stupid-!

[In an exasperated tone typically reserved for Lance.]

[He really has no time to consider how stupid this little display has become, to think about Keith's words or his concerns or much of anything besides the feel of rending muscle and flesh as Crowley's sword slams into him, slams though him. Because he's moving too fast to stop himself from becoming impaled on that length of steel, and abruptly pain crashes hard through him, he makes a surprised wet sound as blood splatters from the wound and up between his lips and yes his body tries to mend itself but it's a little difficult to do any such thing with the sword still buried deep in his gut.

Both hands come up quicksharp and already he's endeavouring to bodily push himself off the blade, but his momentarily trapped in close range now, and surely his overpowered foe has the capacity to make use of this situation faster than Giovanni can free himself from it.]

[ So now Crowley has a guy kicking in one arm and another dying on his sword, I really hate writing this sentence.

But he doesn't seem completely annoyed by Keith's attempt to weave out off his grasp. If only because there's that familiar sound of steel cutting into flesh, ripping through tendons and muscle, delivering a satisfactory blow. It's then that he decides to drop Keith (again), stepping forward when Giovanni attempts to draw back and digging the blade further. ]

You're really being persistent for no reason. If you don't stop struggling then I'm going to end up tearing you in half.

[ And that's going to be a lot more messier than what he originally planned. Fortunately enough his black uniform pointed by the Guard doesn't leave any obvious evidence of blood that splatters on him, even if it's not exactly desired.

He brings a hand to Giovanni's shoulder, almost comforting before his fingers add an inhuman-like pressure that sure enough squeezes down to the bone. It may even make an audible crack if he jerks away too quickly. ]

You'll be just fine later, right? So sit still... unless you wanna get out of here just barely breathing.

[He's about to voice his disdain in being used as a human ping pong ball between the two of them (again), but there are much more distressing things happening within arm's reach -- nearly. Giovanni's being gored and while it all seems proactive in their efforts....

It also seems excessive? That threat is, at least. Both of those threats.]

Crowley!

[While sitting up onto his knees; he's quick to reach full height, but he's not physically interfering.]

We have him, don't overdo it...

[When Keith's saying shit like that you know you're being extra...]

[It hurts, it does, pain that rattles right down to his bones, multiplied by the furious kinetic activity as his body tries - and fails - to mend itself. That pressure at his shoulder seems a comparavtively small thing at first, the renewed depth of the blade leaving him coughing up blood and though the smoke rises off him in bluegrey plumes, it doesn't change the fact that he's pinned here. But then he does try to jerk his shoulder free, pulls back hard and fast and--

--and. There's the bright crack of bone as it breaks. The corresponding arm goes momentarily limp and there's a kicked-dog groan of pain to mix with the blood on his lips and it hurts. He wants to sink down to his knees, to collapse beneath the weight of it, but he can't do that with the blade still running him through.

He considers, vaguely, trying to push off from it sideways, letting it cut right through and out of him, but he's already feeling unsteady from blood loss, thinks he'd need a moment (or several) to recover from such a significant injury and therefore it'd hardly be useful in terms of escape. So with his good hand he continues to grasp the blade, endeavouring to keep himself on his feet, will just have to bide his time and hope he can do something once Crowley pulls the sword out of him.

For now--]

Just...hah...ah...just get on with it will you? The sound of your voice is starting to grate on me.

[ Poor Keith, he nearly forgot he was there. ]

Ah, sorry. [ His tone is far too playful, however, indicating that the apology isn't genuine even as he finally pulls his blade from Giovanni's gut. The blood now decorating steel going unnoticed for a brief moment as he allows the fugitive to drop.

But of course it's within his own space; catching Giovanni in his other arm. ] You're probably not used to this sort of thing, huh? You're still a child, after all.

[ He draws his attention over to Keith, however, smile prominent. ]

There's no need to worry. This guy has more lives than any cat I've seen, I'd probably have to decapitate him to actually kill 'im. [ So that makes all his actions necessary????? ]

[This is A Lot for Keith; as many people as he's probably killed, none of those deaths were half as torturous as what he's doing to Giovanni. Of course, the guy's a dick who could've killed a ton of his friends, but...

It seems wrongish, but he's not going to intervene. Crowley's smile's met with barely a lineface. Whatever, guy.]

[Keith. Really. After all that time he spent following you about, keeping you (relatively) safe from harm. If he weren't caught in the grip of excruciating pain and accustomed to worse betrayals than this, he might feel quite put out.

As things stand, he allows himself to go limp in Crowley's grip, just for a moment, whilst the smoke rises from him in acrid plumes and the wounds begin to heal over just enough for him to regather some energy, regroup--

--and when he does he's moving fast and smooth, twisting in the circle of Crowley's grip, slamming his arm up and in, intending to thrust it through the man holding him now, to tear out whatever passes for his heart.

It's what he intends to do with that sweeping arm, at any rate. Let's see how far he actually gets.]

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pretend i didn't fuck up and make this a week late

no

god sorry I suck atm, I'm so distracted with work

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