roadrunnermuses | for Wizera } { random rp shenanigans

To be honest, the Jack in the Box sounds more his style - not that Dean is the type to pay for it, but still. They might have heard something about the case if they've been picking up the right johns. So he files that information away for later and smirks a bit.

"I don't really do soft rock. But thanks for the suggestion."

Denise grunted in agreement. Her musical philosophy pretty much followed along the lines of 'the louder, the better.' But Joe was a friend and she know that he had style...even if he was boring as hell.

"I'm running out of ideas, Buzzcut," she said. "What kind of things do you like to--"

And then the back wall of the bar exploded.

Dean is already ducking at the sound of the explosion, and when he comes up, his gun is already out, ready to stare down whatever big bad is coming their way with a loud: "Son of a bitch."

It is Dean's catchphrase after all.

She actually hadn't seen it coming, but when Denise moved, she moved fast. As in, supernaturally fast. One minute, she was standing behind the bar. Then, in a blur of pink and brown and black, she was up on the counter, cocking a rifle.

Although she couldn't even see what it was that had caused the destruction, Denise had been well-trained when it came to breaking the Masquerade with civilians around.

What happened next to her was some what intangible. Difficult to describe. She was still Denise. She was the same bar tender she had been moments before, but now she was so much more. It was like Zeus revealing his splendor to Semele. One moment, she was ordinary, the next she had the air and the beauty and the magnificence of a goddess. A wild, primeval goddess.

"Anyone who doesn't want to get hurt better get out of here now," she said. And her voice didn't actually echo, but it did. And most of the customers suddenly looked compelled to obey her, like zombies. Moving, yet unable to take their eyes off of her.

Maybe it's because Dean's got years of hunting experience under his belt, maybe it's because his eyes are more focused on whatever it is that came in the back wall, or maybe it's just because he's an asshole - but he doesn't move. The gun that he usually keeps at the small of his back is out and pointed in the direction of the destruction, unsure if they're there for him or her but he's willing to bet it's him.

They're usually here for him.

As Denise's sudden flock of obedient minions began to clear out, so did the dust. Standing in the midst of the destroy wall what what could only be described as a walking skeleton. It was like something out of a Tim Burton movie. Something from a Dios de los Muertos celebration. Long, white bones with no skin on, creeping along the floor with surprisingly good balance for something without muscles.

And it was laughing.

Like, James Bond villain-style laughing.

"Well, that's new," Denise deadpanned. She noticed, much to her irritation, that Buzzcut hadn't cleared out with the others. Majesty wasn't entirely foolproof. She knew that. But it was a pain in the ass. The last thing she needed was to fight Jack Skelington and watch this guy's butt.

Dean doesn't really care one way or the other how this is going to play out. All he knows is that that thing sure as hell ain't human, and he's going to do his damn job. He doesn't even hesitate in the face of the laughter, and just starts shooting Jack Skellington in the face.

Repeatedly.

Well, Buzzcut had the right idea, anyway.

Denise fired off her shotgun with one hand, the bullet hitting the skeleton clean between the eyes. The back of its skull shattered. And, annoyingly, it didn't slow down. Didn't even look like it was in pain.

She took that personally. When she shot someone, she expected them to feel it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she snarled. But in the same breath, she shouted, "Duck and cover, pretty boy!" as she grabbed a bottle of tequila from the bar, tossed it at the skeleton, and shot it, lighting the alcohol on fire.

Dean moves backwards from the flaming skeleton, knowing that that isn't going to be hot enough to destroy bone. Dean, however, will continue to shoot at it, but this time he's aiming for joints, trying to disable the thing rather than outright destroy it. He aims for the knees first and hopes he doesn't have to move on from there.

Denise had many strengths. Biology wasn't necessarily one of them. The fire didn't really do any permanent damage, but it certainly slowed the sucker down.

The lose of kneecaps slowed it down further.

But the skeleton seemed to have another agenda. And it raised a boney finger, making zig-zags in the air. With each small movement, there was a scream from the back wall. Bottles exploded and shelves became unhinged. And in scrawling, nasty letters, a message was carved into the drywall:

Don Giovanni will rise

Denise barely gave it a glance, but the message certainly didn't fill her with pleasure. "You won't be around to see it, motherfucker!" she snarled, shooting off another enormous chunk of skull.

Dean takes things in as he goes continuing to shoot through bits of bone and trying disable the skeleton as much as he can. It's not easy, but eventually it's just a pile of bone bits and he's glancing over at Denise with an amused look.

"Nothing interesting happening, huh?"

Because the Brujah never did anything halfway, Denise shot the last two rounds in her gun into the pile of bones, even after it stopped moving. It was more to satisfy herself than to make sure it was dead. There was no such thing as overkill, after all.

But then her clip was empty and she tossed the gun on the floor as carelessly as a piece of laundry and she hopped off the bar, landing smoothly no her feet. "Thanks for the backup, Buzzcut," she said, making her way to the door. "I hope you have a license for that piece. California gun laws are strict."

"Yeah." That would be a lie. But he also has the fake law enforcement badge to back it up, so he's not too worried about being stopped by the cops for his arsenal. "I'll be fine. What the hell was that?"

Judging from the fact that he wasn't freaking the fuck out, Denise figured he was something weird. A Mage, a Changeling, a Hunter. Or, God forbid, a Gaoru. She didn't want to push her luck too much, lest she end up having to kill him or something.

"Something big and bad and scary that I'm gonna have to deal with," she replied. Hopefully, he hadn't figured out what she was.

There was a pitcher of beer by the door that was still intact. She grabbed it and starts to slosh it on the walls and the floor.

"You got a lighter?"

Edited 2015-11-27 16:33 (UTC)

Of course he has a lighter. He goes to fish it out of his pockets, watching her as she wastes all that alcohol on the doors. "You're torching the place?"

She spared him a dull look. "Duh." The pitcher emptied, she grabbed the next nearest bottle. "You want someone to walk in and see that?" she asked, gesturing to the message carved on the wall.

Hell no.

Denise walked over to the bones and took out her cell phone, dropping it on the pile, before she doused the whole thing with booze.

"Fair enough."

But before she does, Dean's just going to snap a quick shot to send Sam with ??????? as the message underneath it, before slipping his phone back into his pocket again.

"And you said this town didn't have anything interesting."

"It doesn't," she replied absently, tossing the pitcher over her shoulder and going behind the bar again. It had only been a temporary gig, so she didn't have a lot of stuff to gather: A pair of drumsticks that she slid into her back pocket, a leather jacket with extraneous buckles, and her favorite revolver which she slid into the waistline of her jeans.

Denise wasn't exactly one of the all-time 'planners' of the universe, but she was doing her best. After torching the place, with her phone inconveniently put out of commission, she'd high-tail it to Ohio. Deal with the problem. Be back before Arty could send anyone else into the mess.

Easy as that.

"Light her up," she said dismissively, already on her way to the door. "Feel free to take any booze you want."

Edited 2015-12-04 18:01 (UTC)

"You got it, sweetheart," he says with a sigh before quickly heading behind the bar to ... do just that. Dean, you're alcoholic tendencies are showing. You might want to look into that.

That being said, unless she's got anything else to say, he's going to just get his booze and torch the place, as requested, before heading back to the hotel to see if Dean's got anything on the mystery symbol from the bar.

for Wizera } { random rp shenanigans

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