Goblin Doors Act Ii

It is partly cloudy, though not snowing tonight in NYC. Cold enough for warm coats, most certainly. A perfect night though for mayhem. And bikes. When the two are combined, it gets even better. The sounds of beasts growling and howling seems to be coming from a dirty unlit alley. That at the very least is an odd thing.

Twitch is walking his usual route, keeping warm in his leather jacket by keeping moving. A smoke hanging out the corner of his mouth as he watches the street cooly. His skin is pale grey though, and he looks under the weather as usual. As he passes the alley way full of loud rumbling noises, he pauses to consider what is going on, watching from across the street.

Apple sits across the street from the Crisis Center, leaning against a wall. She looks a little chilly, and seems to have collected some change, though that doesn't seem to be her purpose. She looks up at the sound of howling and starts looking a little skittish. She spots Twitch and starts toward him.

Crispin is in Hell's Kitchen with his hands deep in the pockets of his bomber jacket. His long, dark hair is loose and hides most of his face. It may be he has let it fall foward to help shield the cold. His sword is visible, at least the hilt of it is, where it comes from the hole in the back of his coat. Oddly enough people don't pay it any mind, as if they don't see it or see it for what it truly is. He walks as if he has no place in particular to go, like he is watching the area searching… or perhaps on patrol the way a beat cop might.

The bestial sounds resolve into the roar of motorcycles which come bursting out of the alleyway. Five of the machines, dark crimson tatood with black vines. Each one is driven by a rough looking character of obvious Changeling persuasion. The riders have leather jackets stained with blood, modern pistols at their hips, and an assortment of knives at their boots.

Twitch glances to see Apple ambling his way, then snaps back to watch the motorcycles rumble out of the alley. He swears to himself, stepping forward, but not certain what to do. These changelings appear to mean business, and since he doesn't recognize them, he's assuming the worse. He takes a couple of leaping strides towards the alley way.

Apple whimpers as the men ride out on their bikes and scurries closer to Twitch, right on his heels. She calls quietly, "Wait for me!"

Apple stops at the sidewalk when she realizes Twitch is running toward the bikes and backs against a wall.

Crispin comes to a stop and lifts his head with a violent shake which sends a shower of leaves, golden and red to the ground. His eyes flash a bit as he studies the emerging bikers with interest. His left hand comes out of his pocket holding a small bit of metal.

A small, round black shield emblazoned moon of silver suddenly appears in the elfin man's left hand.

The bikers stop at the entrance to the Alleyway in a fan formation and looks down the street. One, a skinhead chic, spits and calls out to the lead biker (a long faced green skinned man with reptile eyes and tons of sharp teeth), "You sure that little mouse came this way?"

"Yeh. Chuck can smell her. She came this way. Someone helped her kill Snaps. Then she bolted. Spread out. Find the bitch. If you find any Freeholders, just kill them. Tonight aint a night for slaves."

Twitch increases his lope to a run at the biker's words, making way for the alley entrance's edge before they see him. He plants himself flat against the way. His eyes lock on Apple across the way, and he makes a slight hand motion, as if urging her to run or hide or something.

Apple presses against a wall, looking like a deer in the headlights. She doesn't seem to know which way to go, and so she just tries to be invisible.

Crispin doesn't for his part step off the sidewalk or make any motion to hide. It is clear he caught at least some of what the biker's said. He simply steps off the sidewalk toward the street… not the middle of it… but into it as close as is prudent with the traffic moving by. He does in fact lift a hand up and wave until a biker looks his way and then turns the wave into the finger.

A shaggy man in the back with yellow eyes and fangs begins to growl as he notices the man and his finger, "Cajun. We got company." The skin head chic cackles with glee and a brutish Chuck sniffs at the air. "Dey is mo udem."

The lead biker, Cajun, shakes his head in amusement. "Celeste, Albert. Deal with him. Chuck. Marley. lets go find this traitor and take her heads as a trophy." Cajun revs his bike, as does the Ogre and the shaggy man. The skinhead girl jumps off of hers while Albert climbs off slowly and then flashes out knives for fingers with a wicked smile.

Apple inches her way to an alleyway and runs off. Hopefully to live another day.

Crispin watches the other bikers blaze off with nominal interest. His eyes glow red and he finishes giving the bird and drops behind the closest parked car to put cover between him and the two remaining in case they draw their guns. If they want him they will have to drive or move over toward him.

Twitch remains pressed against the wall, but his right hand slips something out from under his leather jacket, probably a knife knowing the Wizened. He smirks at the bird-flipping Crispin, giving the Bright One a slight nod to let him know he's ready. His eyes move to anxiously see where Apple got off to, but when he doesn't see her, the squinted eyes seem relieved. He watches the bald woman and the one with the 'Freddy Kruger' fetish carefully.

The sounds of the bikes die away into the city as the three thugs go off chasing their prey. The two that are left don’t seem to have noticed Twitch, but they have certainly noticed Crispin. The bald girl shrugs off her jacket to reveal a halter top underneath. With a snap of her fingers she is suddenly awash with a multicolored heat mirage wafting off her flesh. She draws her pistol and nods to her partner, "Chase him out of there." The razorhand smiles darkly and walks slowly towards the car.

Crispin waits until the approaching man is close enough and then comes up in a single deft motion so he is facing the other turning out in front of the car and drawing his sword so fast it isn't unlike watching an archaic version of a gunslinger. His goal is to be in combat with the man with some small concealment from the car. His goal isn't to kill but to place and make a point.

Crispin spins out and puts the blade on the throat of the man. "Move and you are DEAD."

Twitch watches Crispin deal with the Freddy Kruger hands, and follows his lead. He finally moves forward quickly, attempting to come up from behind and place his own weapon at her neck. She notices though, his cover blown, and that's when Twitch starts to move even quicker. He lunges forward to put the sharp edge against her neck, trying to place himself behind her. "Yo, Crispin, nice meeting you in the neighborhood. What do we have here, huh?"

The razorhand freezes and sneers at the sword wielding Crispin, while his partner fires off a round and shatters the car's windshield. She hisses softly as her aura flares up and burns at Twitches knife wielding arm. "That will bring the cops running. I suggest you two muggers scram, or this will get ugly fast."

Crispin keeps the point of the blade on the sneering Changeling's throat. The light from his fades away but if he is frightened it doesn't show. "THe gun on the ground now… witch!" His eyes still blare red. "Drop or he dies."

Twitch snarls, and grits his teeth. He presses the knife up in against her throat sharply. "You try that again, and this pushes through your skin, hear, babe? As I see it, you two are the muggers, and you're coming with us. Gun on the ground now!"

As the heat mirage girl squeezes the trigger once more. Crispin jumps backwards to use the car as concealment. Luckily for him, the bullet just grazes his side. The razorhand, Albert, takes advantage of the shot to slice out with his fingers, catching the glowing gent on his chin and drawing first blood.

The bald chick takes another shot at Crispin. Twitch growls at the heat eating away at his arm, and snarls out, "Bitch!" and slams his knife up under her jaw to the hilt. The jugular sprays a fine mist of red, coated Twitch's grimaced face. "Fucking bitch!" He lets go of her immediately, back pedaling a bit and clutching at his burnt arm.

Crispin is down low behind the car and blazing with a glowing red brilliance that pulses not unlike a police light itself. He thrusts his blade out into the gut of the man in front of him.

The girl falls in gurgle of blood and pain and she will not be rising again. Catching sight of this from the corner of his eyes, Albert attacks Crispin with a flurry of slicing blows. In his rage however, none of them seem to hit.

Twitch stumbles and retches a bit. Either from the pain of his arm, which looks like second degree burns at best, or from his actions. He stares at the girl gurgling blood. "Oh, shit, man, come on, Crisp, we gotta hull balls outta here! Oh shit!" The Wizened greaser glances over at the Bright One, "Come on, man!" He turns on his heels and starts booking down the street.

Crispin smacks the other man as he comes up.

Filled with an unnatural rage, the Privateer surges forwards, both hands slicing flicker flash at the swordsman. The blades strike true and the glowing swordsman falls down. Sneering viciously, Albert retrieves his friend’s pistol and returns to the fallen man. Aiming it down at Crispin's head, he shrugs. "Stupid cunt… Tell them this city is ours, sucker." he then drops the gun, shot unfired and snaps his fingers at the bikes. They both rev to life and follow him thru a glowing portal at the back of the alleyway into the hedge. Why he didn’t finish off his foe - maybe time will tell.

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