The Dynamic Duo, Part 2!

Ahh, Club Vivid. It has been so long since Luke had been here, he'd almost forgotten how much the 'public level' smelled of sweat, alcohol, cigarettes, and cigars. Of course, it wouldn't be complete without the sound of people with no sense of self-restraint. Floors covered in all sorts of things that were best left unmentioned, and even more so when the ceiling was inspected. This place had really begun to deteriorate. Then again, the reason he had stopped coming here was because most of those things used to bother him. Then again, maybe those observations were a bit exaggerated. Now that things had gone from eventful to downright stale, he had to mix things up to keep himself sane. One thing after the other, right?

It was difficult to believe that he had been with the Men in White for such a short time before their leader bit the dust and the organization virtually dissipated. It was unpleasant, to say the least, but that was simply because Luke had grown substantially bored since that happened. In the blink of an eye, he had nothing left to do but wander around Creta in search of something productive with which to occupy his time. Fortunately, Club Vivid was a good place to go to think. At least, if you could get to the VIP sections. Consequently, if you couldn't, then you were stuck mingling with the "Unmentionables," as Lucas would sometimes so egotistically put it. He tried his best not to fall to the level of a superiority complex, but given his background, he found that difficult at times like these. After all, he was one of the people that could afford to get to the VIP section with a simple mention of their last names.

"Welcome to Club Vivid's VIP section, Mr. Rosario."

"'S always a pleasure, and about bloody time that I paid my respects, wouldn't you say?" The man nodded and gestured into the room that was so lavishly decorated, it was almost criminal. Technically, it was, but who was paying attention to detail here? With a smirk, Luke made his way over to the mini-bar, only to shake his head. He was so caught up in the moment that he almost forgot he wasn't quite ready for that step. There was something too precious at stake for him to be making bad decisions like drinking in a place where he could be snatched up easily when intoxicated.

Turning back to the man whose services were, at this point, completely and totally his, he made sure to mention something very, very important. "'Fore I forget, Miss Lily Rosario's 'sposed to be paying you a visit, too...just tell 'er where I'm at, she doesn't need any bodyguards or anything of the sort, yeah?"

"Of course, sir. Anything else?" Luke contemplated asking for a male escort with short, blonde hair and cerulean eyes, resembling someone he'd once met and rapidly developed a simple crush on, but realized that probably wasn't the best idea since he was one - okay, two - steps short of complete manhood.

"Not at the moment. Thank you, though." After grabbing a bottle of sparkling cider (The white grape variety) and two wine glasses, Luke made his way over to the red, velvety seating area comprised of two large couches and a small sofa fit for two. Choosing the largest of the three, he slid into it, opening the bottle and pouring a fair amount into both glasses, placing them both onto the polished redwood table in the center of the seating area. Now all that was left for him to do was to wait for his lovely sister to arrive.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.

Ugh... Nearly deathpunching the alarm clock to death, Lily swung a leg out from under the covers, followed by another. Standing fully, she stepped into the kitchen and fixed a brief breakfast of toast and bacun, before heading to the bathroom, a cappucino in hand, hazelnut to be specific. Setting the drink on the table, she brushed her teeth and stared blankly into the mirror, per usual. "Morning hair... What I would give to look decent when I wake up..." Shaking her head, she went about brushing her hair, then placing it in two long pigtails, before finally approving the golden locks. Whispering to herself with a smile, she brushed back a bit of hair. "Mother always said a girl's hair was her prized possession. Well, she said that to Luke..." With a bit of a chuckle, she then went about the process of choosing clothing. In the end, she liked a pink skirt and a red blouse, accompanied with bangles on each wrist, all either gold or silver,and shiny. Putting on some red lipstick in the mirror, and a bit of eyeliner, Lily was FINALLY ready for today.

This morning ritual was a daily thing with Lily. Of course, the rest of the day wasn't so ritualistic; she was to go to Club Vivid, per Luke's request. If not for Luke's wishes, she would never go to that awful place; it smelled of sex, drugs, and all-around evil. Yes, Takatori had smelled of the same, but in a less dense scent, almost like he merely spritzed on cologne of that stench, while Club Vivid was a writhing cesspit where half-empty bottles of it were thrown against the wall. It, eh... To say it disgusted her was an understatement. Thankfully, the VIP section wasn't half as horrid as the rest of the place. So Lily skipped to the Club, and it was a nice trip there. And then, she spotted someone...

It was a weirdo. A creepy weirdo standing next to a white windowless van, spraypainting the wall of Club Vivid. So... He was a combination of a gangster and a pedophile? Odd... But Lily still had to avenge poor Takatori's building, no matter what he was! Were he alive, he would have had the man GUTTED. IN PUBLIC. WITH A SPORK. A USED SPORK. Lily didn't have a used spork to use... So she roundhouse-kicked his head into the wall. "WHY WOULD YOU WRITE ON SOMEONE'S NIGHTCLUB, YOU WASTE OF AIR!? YOU LOOK LIKE THE SPAWN OF SA-TAN, TO MAKE MATTERS WORSE FOR YOURSELF."

"You psycho! Who runs up and kicks someone in the head!? Crazy ho!"

Lily didn't always recieve insults from random hobo-gangsta-pedos. But when she did, she threw the aforementioned hobo-gangsta-pedos through a window, in this case, through the window of Club Vivid, before jumping in after him. "You crazy bi-" His words were cut short as a stiletto heel snapped his neck witha nicely placed kick to the jaw. "RUDENESS. Reqieum en pace , you freaky freak creepy creep."

At that moment, the man had come down from the VIP areas to see what the commotion was about. Recognizing him as a loyal worker at the Club, and one who'd known the ways of Takatoriu and his employees, Lily smiled to him. "Hello~ Mind getting me the cleaner's crew, a window repairman, and a mocha latte? Thanksies~"

"Ah... Ms. Rosario. Lovely seeing you. Your brother is at the minibar." Stepping over something Lily hoped was a non-blown-up balloon, she darted over to Luke, who had probably heard the noise as well, and sat down by him, a smile on her face. "Hiya Luke~"

Victor drew back the slide on the Beretta with ease, and sighed to himself, throwing his figure back onto the double bed of Club Vivid's handy top-floor fortress-cum-apartment with a sigh, inspecting the pistol under the pale white light of the bedroom's chandelier. No expense had been spared in upgrading the apartment from the veritable pigsty Knox had left them in their forced inheritance; the place was now beautiful, and about ten times as hard to break into. Not any simple moron with a chainsaw was going to cut down the doors.

However, around ninety percent of the money Vic had placed in had gone to ensuring he had a fine repertoire of cocaine to fall back on when it came to the 'lazy days', or so he called them. Despite the drug's stimulant effect. Pulling the M92's slide just a little further, a full clip of copper-jacketed 9mm rounds dropped out, and Victor spun the pistol around, to expect the empty dock it had just fell from. Clean as a whistle, with stray sparks of light shimmering from it. Vic grinned. A Dresden firearm through and through, adhering to all the fine standards.

He loaded the gun once more, and flicked the safety on, tossing it aside, sitting up, and running a hand through his short-enough crimson hair. The colour of blood, of course. With a grin, he looked up to the CCTV camera, but the expression quickly turned to a snarl as his eyes narrowed and his hand scrabbled for the nearby short-wave radio to one of the VIP section guards. "Henderson, d'you mind telling me what the fuck those two kids are doing in my VIP lounge?!" He reached instinctively for the 90Two in his jacket, looking it up and down as the grille crackled and Henderson replied.

"Sir, they're on the lis-"

The response was a veritable fit of absolute rage incarnate as Victor howled back down the radio before slamming it down until the batteries popped out. "I DON'T GIVE A SINGLE FUCK, YOU IMBECILIC MEATHEAD! I'LL BE DOWN THERE IN TWO, AND YOU'D BETTER HOPE TO FUCK YOU CAN SALVAGE THIS SITUATION BEFORE I BLOW YOUR GODDAMN BRAINS OUT!" With that, he snapped upright and clenched his fists, Eclipse shaking in his hands as he grabbed the white Armani suit jacket, and pulled it over the matching shirt. Trousers and dress shoes were of course the same colour, Victor epitomising style in his dress, and the silken necktie that sat upon his chest drew the most attention with a deep black sheen.

He cocked the pistol, holstered it, and, snarling, checked the calendar as a cokehead would. Excellent! It was a Tuesday. He reached beneath the bed for the appropriate case, and rifled through it quickly, before snapping it shut and snarling his way incoherently to the elevator with a significant dose of anger in his stride.


The drugs only accentuated the man's anger as Luke and Lily got even more comfortable in the lounge. Fortunately for Henderson, upon Victor's arrival, despite the bumbling, sycophantic wreck the man had turned to in the past two minutes, the simply kicked him in the chin upon his arrival, sending the man sprawling across the lounge, with most patrons ignoring the display. In the Dresdens' club, this was a daily affair. He muttered incoherently. "You're lucky I don't have a silencer on me, or you'd be one giant fucking exit wound,"

With that, the man pushed straight through into the VIP lounge, grasping the list upon the podium that Henderson had approved these two little assholes upon, and scrunching it into a little, unrecognisable ball as he entered, smiling uncannily at the two, face a brighter shade of red than a tomato, and steam rising from his ears in geysers. "Fuck the list," He announced in a simple, and rather vulgar manner. "Fuck Knox, and fuck his preferences," Another snarl. "Knox is dead. I run the place now."

Once the announcements had been made clear, the various dinner suit-clad VIPs returned to their business, and Victor quickly strode over to the twins, setting down his Tuesday case by his feet all-too-carefully, and drawing Eclipse from its inner holster with a sick, cocaine-fuelled grin, giggling like a madman. "Now, will you please tell me why you two LITTLE SHITS ARE IN MY FUCKING V-I-P LOUNGE?!" He sounded every letter out with spittle hanging from his jaw, teeth gritted and bared.

Flicking the safety off on the Beretta in his hand just for emphasis, he continued before the other two could reply. "YOU'VE GOT TEN SECONDS TO EXPLAIN WHO THE FUCK YOU ARE AND WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE DOING HERE," Victor's roars resounded through the entire lounge as patrons watched in horror. Not surprise, but simple, bored, typical... horror. "BEFORE I VACATE YOUR BRAINS FROM YOUR CRANIUMS," For added effect, he spun his head, and aimed his pistol behind him, at the unconscious, bleeding Henderson, and launched a round towards the man, which embedded itself in his gut. "GOT THAT, YOU TWO LITTLE FUCKERS?" He stepped even closer to them to make the point absolutely crystal clear. "THERE WILL BE FUCKING MURDERS."

There was but a small interval between the time that Luke sat down and Lily approached. A few heads turned, of course, but the glances were just that - quick glances before the individuals turned their attention back to whatever business they had in the VIP lounge. A smile passed on Luke's lips as his twin made her way over to him and sat down. Offering her one of the cider-filled glasses, he ran a finger along her cheek. Unlike Lily, he wasn't prone to many emotional fluctuations unless the circumstances were serious. As a result, while he more or less heard her crazy entrance from his spot in the lounge, he calmly waited for her to come in. The times when Luke's emotions could get the best of him were when his sister was involved (most likely as a target of some sort), but in this case, he didn't have to worry.

"Hey, sis," the alchemist chimed softly, leaning his forehead against hers. That was more or less his version of a hug, as it was the only thing he really did outside of offering his arm during walks and giving her kisses on the forehead every so often. He wasn't really one for public displays of affection, and he knew that she was aware of that fact. Sitting up straight, he stretched out his arm and picked up the other glass, lifting it to his lips as his left leg crossed over the other. After taking a sip, he looked around the room. The crowd seemed a little different from what he remembered, but he didn't think much of it. It seemed more or less like a change in the seasons, as it occurs in nature (but in this case, with people).

"Lil, I need something to do. I've been wanderin' fer who knows how long since I found out about the ole boss. I figgered you'd help me think o' somethin', and I also thought I'd take the opportunity ta spend some quality time with my lovely twin." As a matter of fact, his true goal was to make sure that she was doing alright. Ever since she became this Pope-like figure amongst her 'circle', not that Luke knew who that included, he hadn't been able to be around her as much. He was never too keen on going to Church, but he read the scriptures when he could. Lily, while a stickler for religion, didn't seem to mind his lack of religious enthusiasm. Then again, it was difficult to do that when killing people was a daily feat.

The atmosphere then seemed to change just a tad as the level of tension rose just outside of the lounge. At the entrance, the man allowing people in - or turning them away - grew restless at his podium. The chance of it having something to do with the twins was fairly high, given they just recently arrived and all of a sudden the staff is in a fuss. He wondered whether it was due to the change in management. While Luke wasn't aware of the exact process or whose hands the place had been changed to, he figured it was someone that liked to run things their own way, regardless of the past. Lucas Taylor Rosario wasn't one to hand out respect on a silver platter, but in this case, he felt it was well-deserved. Perhaps he'd have the opportunity to speak with the owner of the place someday.

Of course, it was no coincidence that they just happened to be meeting up here. If Luke's prediction were true, then they'd at least be getting some sort of minor questioning by staff. Things seemed to have been running smoothly, though. While it was a bit disappointing, the Rosario twin wouldn't let it dampen his mood. Right now, he was just enjoying the relaxing atmosph-

A loud "thunk" could be heard in the lounge, but the only one concerned seemed to be Luke. He looked toward the entrance once more, noting that there was something very, very strange. Was that his imagination, or did that man really teleport from the podium to the other end of the lounge? No; teleportation wasn't quite within the reach of science just yet. He'd been forcefully launched. Who was the culprit? None other than the man running the place, of course. Coincidence? Hardly. The red-faced man (with equally red hair) walked over to the two of them, clearly hysterical. Not only that, but judging by the intonation of his statements and the fact that he hardly gave any sort of response time, the man likely had anger management problems. Those could be very beneficial in this type of setting, depending on the individual's ability to...well, cause harm to others.

It was quite obvious that this man came well-prepared as he was holding a weapon towards the floor. He meant business. In situations like these, it was best not to resist. After all, Luke liked this place and wanted to be able to come back if possible. Though, judging from the words that came out of the man's mouth, that would be a tough task to undertake. To keep his sister from getting the first words, however, Luke had to come up with a good response - the truth. There was no point in keeping anything hidden since it didn't jeopardize anything at this point. His parents were dead, and if anyone were to look up the case files, both incidents were written off as accidents and left alone. Revealing who he was and why he was here didn't involve the disclosure of any truths that needed to remain secret.

"As for who I am, kind sir, my name is Lucas Taylor Rosario...the son of the late Nigel Rosario, a lawyer, and the late Katherine Rosario, whose maiden name is - or was, however you prefer - Luhann." Taking a breath, he sipped his cider. "The reason why I'm here is to catch up with my twin sister, Lily Sky Rosario, and hopefully find a way to cure my boredom. You wouldn't happen to know how I could do that, would you? Things have gotten pretty slow for me since the old boss passed away, and it's really got me itching." Grabbing the bottle, he held it toward the man in an offering gesture with a sincere smile on his face. Hopefully Lily wouldn't overreact again and make things....unpleasant.

"Care for some cider? It's one of the only two bottles I could find."

As Luke and Lily greeted each other in their sacred manner of touching foreheads, a practice in use since childhood, she smiled. Oh, she hadn't seen her brother in a while, she'd been wondering how he'd been. Sitting back in her seat as Luke did the same, she recieved her coffee, muchly needed, and set it to the side, for after her glass of cider. Taking a sip of the apply beverage, she savored the flavor. All sweet and apply and such, it was. Perfect for the twins, both amongst the very top tier of the upper class. They could enjoy the finer things in life, as it was, for with money and education came luxury, and where education fell into the equation, it allowed them to control their luxury in a way not to become greedy or lazy. No, no, instead they merely led normal lives, with highly refined extras. Only the best for the Rosario twins, of course...

Glancing up as Luke spoke again, Lily listened. So he was bored, eh? Sounded like Luke, hehe~ And this was most likely more for the quality time than the boredom relief, as Lily could tell; she had been planning on arranging a day to hang out with Luke. "Boredom is pretty boring, ne?~ But what could resolve that boredom, I wonder..." Indeed, she had no ideas formulating yet; Men in White itself was something they more or less stumbled onto than something they'd found by searching. So perhaps Luke would stumble onto some cure for boredom? She herself was usually pretty busy traveling between Creta and La Ciligia, as she held the duties of a Bishop fairly well, and was often called to perform various duties within the Sanctus Gloria. As it was, she was actually just recently promoted to Bishop. Ah, how the times go by~ It felt like so long ago that she'd really done anything else of any importance; in reality, she had seen Luke a few weeks before, spoken with Takatori not long after, and it wasn't even too long ago that she had her little spat with that devil of a woman, though it felt like forever that her finger had been this slightly curled piece of steel with it's serrated edge. Staring at the finger, as she thought of it, she glanced briefly at Luke, knowing he would worry his poor little head off if he knew someone had hurt his sister.

Ah, and that was one thing that never changed; since they could barely walk, Luke had always been protective of Lily, even when Luke was Lily, and she was Luke... Perhaps not everything was in a cycle of rapid growth and decay, as was the rest of life...

And Lily would have liked to continue her thought process, but she was rudely interrupted by a flying man, the same man whom had retrieved for her the coffee and the clean-up crew. "... I didn't know people could fly..." Taking a sip of her cider, she glanced rather boredly at the one called Henderson, before her mind switched to cause nerves in her neck to recieve electronic signals from the brain, which when relayed to muscles in the aforementioned neck resulted in the turning of her head to face what SEEMED like Takatori but notably less psychotic in appearance, while more psychotic in rage.

In fact, he so reminded her of the dear old boss who frequented this club enough that she'd always considered it to be his club, she didn't even snap out at the man and start transmuting the bar or the walls into a wide array of weaponry. No no, she simply smiled at him as Luke responded to his obscenity-smattered ranting with charm and grace, the bread and butter of her twin.

Indeed, Luke had always been opposite Lily in this manner of persona; Luke was the calm, easy-going twin, never without his gentlemanly disposition, while Lily was the firecracker of the two, always quick to anger, and a tad or two bipolar. But thankfully she wasn't planning to enrage the man further, and instead sat as spectator to Luke's conversation with the man.

Widening her yes slightly as Henderson was shot in the stomach, she figured the man was pretty serious. Hehe... And to top it off, like the cherry on a sundae, all she really had to say was the traditional "You got beef, bro?" Of course, such a statement would have possibly ended with Rosario brains across the bar. So she merely sat and smiled. Why do things when Luke had the situation handled? As he ended his explanations and introductions, she felt it was polite to speak, though, and she would, with grace not often seen from Lily.

"Bishop Lily Rosario, a pleasure to meet you Mr...?" Indeed, she felt the need tointroduce herself title and all; not only was she rather proud of her position, but it seemed there was a slim possibility he'd be less likely to shoot someone with her standings. Eh... Actually, he probably would anyways... Judging from his choice of vocabulary, anyways, he seemed like one who skipped church for other activities... No matter, she'd play nice nonetheless.

"... I didn't know people could fly..." Victor's head snapped towards her and his face reddened and bulged like a misshapen, somewhat-oval-like tomato. Offchance comments like that, he didn't like. Offchance comments like that were going to get her killed.

"Fuck what you know, too, for good measure," He explained, before breaking into a further roar. "You, Henderson, THE FUCKING LAWS OF FUCKING PHYSICS, THEY ALL OBEY ME IN MY CLUB." He turned back to the male of the two - dubious as their genders were, unbeknownst to the criminal - as he speaked, veins bulging on his forehead as his eyes twitched with sporadically explosive rage.

"As for who I am, kind sir, my name is Lucas Taylor Rosario...the son of the late Nigel Rosario, a lawyer, and the late Katherine Rosario, whose maiden name is - or was, however you prefer - Luhann." Victor threw up his hands, gun and all, and harrowing laughter echoed throughout the lounge before he lowered them, opened his eyes, stared straight into Luke's, his voice lowering to a deadly, near-silent growl, the most unsettling of his vocal tones yet.

"Look into my eyes," He paused for a moment. "And, please, tell me," He took a step back, and raised his arms, the growl raising to a snarl. "Do you honestly fucking think," Then the snarl to a bellow. "That I give a single god-damned shit," Then, finally, the bellow to that trademark Dresden roar. "About your fancy fucking lifestyle situation, you prepubescent little MORON!?"

He continued to explain further. "I don't want to know who your mummy or daddy were or even fucking are if they've had the good fucking grace and sheer moron factor to stay on the planet looking after you two little shitheads," Victor hoped to god he was making himself perfectly clear, so Mr. Nine Millimetre didn't have to take over in this little spiel. "No, I want to know exactly what I asked you," He put on the most delicate tone for that sentence, to juxtapose entirely the next ultimatum. "So, I'll re-iterate, for the sake of your little teen shithead ears, all fucking four of them," A pause. All fell silent in the VIP club, as Victor summoned all the air he could into his belly and forced it back out like an oh-so-familiar artillery strike. "WHO IN THE BRIGHT BLUE FUCK ARE YOU, AND WHAT IN THE NINE CIRCLES OF HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING IN MY VIP LOUNGE?!"

"Bishop Lily Rosario, a pleasure to meet you Mr...?" Victor extended a slender, calloused finger, outstretched and pointing towards Lily as he nodded his head slowly, entirely ignoring the child's request for his moniker, with falsified respect sitting upon his pallor, as if he was commending something Lily had said or done in an entire mockery of it all. Quickly, the mask upon his face cracked, and along with it, the illusion of the joke, and he returned to the cackling, drug-addled, insane wreck that was Victor Dresden, arms dealer and psychopath.

"A bishop's got some real bollocks walking into the Devil's club, unlike your goody-two-shoes fuck of a brother over there," He explained. "Little missy, do you know where the fuck you are, and who the fuck I am!?" He rose the gun, squinting down the iron sights at Lily through a single open eye. "You stumbled into the wrong fucking bar. I don't like God, he doesn't like me, and we have a mutual agreement on that," A snarl; a vicious sneer rose to Victor's expression. "I've never been in the fucker's good graces, and he definitely doesn't send his agents into my bar to do his damned dirty work,"

Summarising, Victor pulled up a coffee table with a horrid screech, planted his buttocks upon it, and rose the pistol to the right once more, shooting a recovering Henderson once more in the side. He still writhed, unfortunately alive. "So here's the deal," Victor opened his mouth and began to explain, the gun swaying slightly in his hand's vicegrip, before he rose it to point the gun at Luke. "You shut the fuck up, and you stay that way, cause I don't like you," Victor spun his arm, aiming the barrel now at Lily. "But, Sister, I swear to god, if you don't tell me what you're doing away from the island and why in Satan's name you're actually in my lounge, I'll shoot you," He paused, pensively, for a moment, before making an addendum. "And if I don't like your business, then I'll shoot both of you." He nodded slowly, a vicious smile emerging, making one final addition before he gestured for the two of them to begin.

"And, no, before you ask, I don't have any little boys you can please yourself with, you sick little bitch. Not even my sister would. If that's what you're here for, I'm just going to shoot the pair of you on principle," He finished casually, his eyelids twitching gently as his heart pumped the cocaine around his veins and arteries, the sick, deathly grin still carving the man's face in two. He spoke as if it was a simple act, like making a cup of coffee, or buttering his toast.

For Victor, it really was.

A slow, disappointed sigh escaped through Luke's lips as he scratched his head. Saying that this man had a bit of an anger management problem was obviously an understatement, a polite way of phrasing it, if you will. It was the first time that the alchemist had ever encountered someone like this, but he wouldn't let it irritate him too much just yet. After all, given that there were likely multiple weapons at the man's disposal, the more polite twin was at a slight disadvantage. Though getting into an altercation could prove to be entertaining, it would be a shame to let the place get shot up or otherwise defaced. It was a very nice VIP lounge.

It was obvious that his chances of getting into the man's good graces were slim to none. The silence of the entire lounge indicated that while most of the other parts of the evening had been fairly normal, this was escalating far beyond what they were used to. No matter, Luke would figure out a way to avoid getting into even more trouble...somehow. How much could it possibly take? Despite his initial setbacks - failure to answer the questions properly and coming here in the first place - there had to be some method to taming this beast. Instead of his usually quick verbal responses, he'd have to think very carefully about how he was going to approach and respond to this particular situation.

One possible method was to sit there and let Lily do all the talking. In most cases, this seemed to be detrimental to the Rosario twin's causes, but in this scenario the idea didn't seem to be as dangerous. After all, their current human obstacle was already quick enough to anger, so anything they did was likely to anger him further. As a result, Luke didn't think it would matter if he let Lily anger him more. In fact, there was also the very, very slim chance that allowing Lily to do this would HELP them. Shaking his head, Luke rested his chin on his clasped hands, his elbows placed carefully on his knees, which were spread shoulder-width apart.

There was also the possibility of trying to say something less snotty, as that would possibly help the situation. Bringing this type of violence around his twin wasn't something that the Cretan really liked to do, so it was naturally his duty to try and soften the blows a bit. Then again...

With a subtle groan, Luke scratched his head again. This was starting to become very frustrating, especially since - by the look of things - Luke would have to go with the first option. Saying anything at all at this point, considering that he'd been told to "shut the fuck up," didn't seem like the smartest course of action. As a result, he opted to do just that, and gave Lily an approving nod, the expression on his face telling her to handle things. It then switched into a sort of death glare, as if to say, "If you mess this up and we get out of here alive, I'll kill you," except with the gentlemanly disposition that was usually exhibited by Luke.

Ehehehe~ Lily smiled cheerfully, sipping her latte calmly, as she crossed one leg over the other. "I am at the wonderful Club Vivid, and I would assume you run this fine establishment, am I to be correct? As for why I'm here, well I can only be at the Church so much, ne? Surely you leave the Club at some points also, do you not?" Ahhh... Perhaps her words would anger the beast of a man before her. Perhaps not. Perhaps she really didn't care. And of course, perhaps her mind truly was gone with the winds of time itself. Whatever the outcome, whatever the cause, her words had been spoken, and honestly, few people would have the balls to have said them to a man who shot a good employee for letting two people get into the VIP area, the root of all this trouble. Honestly, she didn't see the issue; they were VIPs, and the VIP area was for VIPs.

At any rate, she merely smiled on as he mentioned his relationship with the Lord, and that he did such and such and blah blah blah blablah. "Well, while it was in His plan I be here today, I don't come here to preach, nor to shed blood in the name of God, so don't even think of me as a Bishop at all, rather, as a patron of your bar. Easy-peasy, aye?" And as she spoke, she listened afterwards, as the man seemed to strike a deal of sorts, or rather, propose one. He pointed a gun to Luke first, but then...

Oh-ho-ho... Lily barely noticed Luke shoot some symbollic glances at her, as she was far too entangled in the words of one Mr. Dresden. Such an angry man, was he, and Lily could only smile pleasantly as a gun was pointed to her forehead. In a soft tone, a whisper, almost, she spoke words oft sung by the band called Bon Jovi. " 'Lord, I have to ask a favor, and I hope you'll understand; Because I've lived life to the fullest, let this boy die like a man. Staring down the bullet, let me make my final stand.' Blaze of Glory, lovely song." With a giggle, she sat back in the seat, not bothering to even acknowledge the weapon still trained on her. "Furthermore, sir, I'm away from Ciligia on my own time; a vacation, might you say. Indeed, the Church isn't my only usual haunt, as I did come here a few times before the old man kicked it. Takatori, you may have known him. Lovely man, he, a shame. Ah, and that brings me to my first point; I suppose he did stare down the bullet and make his final stand. 'Shot down in a blaze of glory, Lord I never drew first but I drew first blood, I'm no one's son.' " And as she finished her statement, she caught his next.

She laughed.

No, no, not the giggles she'd been laughing.

Not a chuckle, or other gentle, light noise.

She laughed.

A split second sent her cackling, the sole sound in the club being her mad laughter, as she buckled forward almost exaggeratedly, narrowly missing the barrel of the gun as her head dropped nearly to her knees, latte thankfully not spilled. She laughed for a few seconds, actually, nearly half a minute. She then rose back up, grinning madly, a crazy flare to the orbs eyeing Victor. "THAT. Was funny. I've killed men for lesser insults. But, no, no, not here for little boys; I'm not that kind of Bishop, dude. But, I like you, you're a real riot, you know?" Whoa boy... Hopefully, for Luke's sake, the twins wouldn't be shot immediately...

"I am at the wonderful Club Vivid, and I would assume you run this fine establishment, am I to be correct? As for why I'm here, well I can only be at the Church so much, ne? Surely you leave the Club at some points also, do you not?" Victor snarled. She had bollocks, and that was going from something to be admired to a feature of her personality that'd quickly get her killed. He looked down to the pistol, then back to her, responding with a very low, and very serious growl. To start.

"You'd assume fucking right," Victor rose the pistol, and aimed it off towards Luke's bottle of cider, now the boy had clammed up. The hammer was eased and cocked. The beauty of semi-automatics. A pound of trigger pressure, and crash, all that was left of the bottle was a jagged neck and a pool of shattered glass and fizzling grape cider looking rather unhappy on the floor. "SOMEONE GET ME A SHOT OF FUCKING VODKA!" Victor roared, and a hand went to his collar to loosen it. Things were going to get brutal, here. Very quickly.

"Maybe I do leave my club," He snarled. "Maybe I do so to conduct business, and keep it running as it does, a well-oiled machine of... lucrative properties," With his other free hand, specks of cocaine still flecking pale skin, Victor rose a single finger and grinned that vicious, malicious grin of his. "But that doesn't make a single ounce of fucking difference," The snarl began to increase in dynamics and volume, resounding through the lounge. Various local political figureheads and other patrons quickly shrank away, skirting and darting back into the shadows, Selina's high-class prostitutes in tow. "Because, it's MY fucking CLUB!"

"Well, while it was in His plan I be here today, I don't come here to preach, nor to shed blood in the name of God, so don't even think of me as a Bishop at all, rather, as a patron of your bar. Easy-peasy, aye?" He stared her down with twitching, rapidly engorging irises, as some mook appeared with a liberal measure of vodka upon a drinks tray, trying his absolute hardest not to tremble. Victor picked up the glass with his one free hand, and gestured for the man to scarper, knocking the alcohol back. The burning sensation of the liquid soothed the callous and coarse ridges that all this screaming had forged, and refreshed him that little bit more so he was ready again to get up and continue.

The cocaine and the alcohol began to fuse themselves together within the man's blood in a matter of moments. Cocaethylene. An ester produced from the two synthesising together, a new compound. Greater highs. More intense. Sharper. Energy flushed through Victor and tingled at his fingertips; he felt like what he conceived was a god, staring through the eyes of one of the ancient greats. Zeus, or Thor, perhaps. He was a lord of lords, a king of kings... and these two... these two were really starting to piss the king of kings off.

"See, that's just the problem," Vocal tones picked up in timbre and tempo. He was talking faster. Louder. More erratic. Behaviour was climbing to the point where the red tinge upon the man's face was more visible than ever. "I don't want you in my bar, and you waltz in here, seemingly thinking you're entitled to... I dunno, fucking whatever, a so-called VIP..." He turned his head and snarled a final time. "Knox is done. So's the old guest list. You're off, and you're off forever." The sentence was finished, but an addendum was in order. Momentarily, Victor stood up and turned away, before snapping his head straight back and bellowing at the two, vodka-smelling spittle flying with the roar in their direction. "DO I MAKE MYSELF FUCKING CLEAR, YOU LITTLE BITCH!?"

Victor ignored the song lyrics, rolling his eyes and tossing the glass aside, flicking open the clips on his suitcase single-handedly with a grin. It was a Tuesday. That was always good. The 90Two was still trained firmly on Lily's forehead, but with one hand, fingers strong and nimble, Victor rose the case to his dominion, his side of the coffee table - fuck it, the entire club was his dominion, but he was just being safe - and let the sides of the case fall flat, to reveal the two weapons within. Tuesday's quarry, Tuesday's tools... today he had the glorious Centaur, a PP-19 Bizon of Drachman origin, and its counterpart, Minotaur, a sawn-off double-barrelled Lupara shotgun, of Cerisian origin. How beautiful they looked together; black of gilded metal and brown of furnished wood, pale white light of a shielded bulb above them dancing along the weapons gracefully. Victor grasped the PP-19, and pulled the sling over his head and one shoulder, and let the sub-machine gun hang limp at his side; whilst with his free hand, he grasped the Lupara, aiming it dead centre at Luke's forehead.

"Aren't you just so fucking sweet..." He muttered with a mock smile turning quickly to grit determination, easing back the shotgun's hammer. "IF THE NEXT FUCKING THING THAT COMES OUT OF YOUR MOUTH ISN'T SOLID FUCKING INFORMATION, YOU LITTLE SLUT, I'M GOING TO PAINT THE GODDAMN LOUNGE WITH YOUR FUCKING BROTHER'S GODFORSAKEN, ENTIRELY UNWORTHY, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING USELESS MULCH SHIT INCARNATE BRAINS!"

"Furthermore, sir, I'm away from Ciligia on my own time; a vacation, might you say. Indeed, the Church isn't my only usual haunt, as I did come here a few times before the old man kicked it. Takatori, you may have known him. Lovely man, he, a shame. Ah, and that brings me to my first point; I suppose he did stare down the bullet and make his final stand." He let the hammer down with a grumble. At least she was being compliant now. The song lyrics were still pissing him off, though it revealed a little more of the twins' nature. Takatori's lackeys, eh? The fucker was dead, and he was going to stay dead. The last remnants, the ghost of Knox's lingering regime had died with his soul, the gutless bastard.

"I knew Takatori. The man was a cunt," He spoke simply, with little remorse or regret for the man passed, knowing his nature well. This business was ruthless. Takatori was good at pissing people off: too good. As much as he and Victor could be compared, the man had been ballsy, but he was fucking stupid, too, taking on the Royal Guard, the Cretan military themselves. After all, why do that, when they're such good customers?! "He's dead now, so, your threats are fucking empty." Danger flickered like a wildfire in Victor's eyes. "You have no respect. No reputation. Takatori is gone. So are the old ways. Out of the last ounce of respect for the empire the man held, I won't kill you." Quiet Victor was done, bringing it back with a final roar. "NOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CLUB!"

The priest, however, brought it a touch too far. The laughter began, lurching forwards and invading his ears, sickly-sweet tendrils slipping in and corrupting his brain. Pervasive... disgusting. "THAT. Was funny. I've killed men for lesser insults. But, no, no, not here for little boys; I'm not that kind of Bishop, dude. But, I like you, you're a real riot, you know?" All too promptly, he shot a hole in the latte she clutched, spilling china and hot coffee all over her lap for starters. They'd awoken the serpent, and ignored the extension of his good graces. Now there'd be fucking hell to pay. "YOU'VE DONE IT NOW, YOU LITTLE WHORE!" He flipped the barrel of the pistol round into his hand, raising the grip up into the sky, light glinting from the black finish. "NOBODY FUCKING LAUGHS AT ME!" Smash. The pistol came down in a sweeping arc, colliding with Lily's jaw at first. "NOT EVEN A FUCKING PRIEST!" Smash. The second hit slammed straight into the side of her eye socket. That was going to leave a bruise. "YOU CAN TELL GOD TO FUCK RIGHT OFF! I DON'T NEED HIS HELP!" Smash. A single third time, crashing into her nose, and he pulled himself off of her, seething rage simply dripping, exuding from him as a simple, single form. Silence hit the room save for his echoes, before, finally, he lifted his shoulders and cried out to the sky. "I AM VICTOR FUCKING DRESDEN! I'M FUCKING IMMORTAL!"

He leapt backwards from her, raising both the weapons from side to side, spinning the 90Two about his finger with a snarl. The hilt was coated with slick, crimson blood; instead of prohibiting better grip, he simply allowed his hand and the blood to meld together about the ridges and bumps of the pistol's inlay. It was further fuel to the adrenaline-stoked fire burning deep within the pit where his heart should have laid, or could have laid, but he held nothing within him beating like that. Victor was right in all but one respect; he wasn't immortal. To the rest of the world, he was living on borrowed time. He was simply... already dead.

CRASH.

Well, this was unpleasant. The man had shot the glass bottle containing that rather sweet-tasting cider that Luke was enjoying up until now. It wasn't necessarily something to fuss over, but it was a tad disappointing. Just like that saying, 'No use crying over spilled milk,' Luke figured it would be a waste of time and energy to whine over the loss of someone else's cider, no matter how good it may have been. As a result, he simply responded with a subtle sigh, and turned his attention away from the sadly pooled liquid back to the matter at hand (which was close to impossible to ignore, as it was).

This exchange between Lily and this man (whose name escaped him, if it was even stated at all, which he doubted) seemed to be going as smoothly as before. Which, if anyone were to be in doubt, was not smoothly at all. It was growing increasingly difficult for Luke to maintain his composure around this man. The vodka seemed to make things worse after it was almost lustfully consumed. Around the room signs of the growing tension emerged; People were nervously watching this disagreement happen, others seemed to be trying their best to get out of the lounge entirely, but seemed to be paralyzed for whatever reason. Obviously this man knew how to run a club.

"DO I MAKE MYSELF FUCKING CLEAR, YOU LITTLE BITCH!?" Luke cringed. He was okay with being taken off the list, even if just a little bit disheartened, but now things were starting to get truly ugly. It was one thing to take away their VIP status, but yet another to call Lily something so vulgar. Luke wasn't going to have it. Rolling his head about to stretch his neck, the alchemist then cracked his knuckles. Of all the things, of all the things to make him lose his composure, this was something that most ordinary people wouldn't dare to do. Of course, it was clear that this was no ordinary man, but that didn't matter to Luke. This was his twin sister, despite a minor inconsistency with the two of them.

After another round of heinous words directed at Lily, that's when the real trouble started. It seemed that everything had been thrown into slow motion. Luke felt the bile rising from the very first blow to Lily's face. In that moment, he felt as though he couldn't even move. Now the second hit. Luke's eyes seemed to sharpen in that instant as he held back a roar of anger. That was it. That was fucking it. The words were just bunnies compared to this beast. A broken nose. Lily's blood. That was all it took to transform Luke from even-tempered to comparable to this pistol-whipping man's rage.

The slow motion seemed to end once the man moved backwards, and in that instant, Luke grabbed the table between the twins and this rage-taken monster, slinging it upward to be used, first and foremost, as a temporary shield. Pieces of glass and the broken bottle neck slid down to the floor.

"DO NOT. EVER. PUT YOUR FILTHY FUCKING HANDS. ON MY SISTER. EVER. AGAIN." In one swift motion, Luke drew his arms back before pushing the table full force at this fiend. As his hands touched the wood, there was an electric glow emitted from his back as the transmutation circle was activated. This table would do much more than just tumble awkwardly at its target - Luke's specialty was amplifying the force exerted by the vibrations he created, through alchemy, of course. The large, heavy piece of wood was launched at the man with a good few hundreds of kilograms of force. Luke used that window to grab Lily by the arm and drag her behind the seats, scooping the glass up along the way. He didn't care if he got glass splinters lodged into his flesh or cuts that bled all over the place. This was about a man hitting his sister.

"SHIT, LILS! WHY THE FUCK DID I LET YOU HANDLE IT?! UGH!"

Smack.

The pistol collided with her jaw, as he carried on laughing. Her head rolled with the pistol whipping as her cackling only rose in tempo and volume. They say laughter is the best medicine, so she was going to give it to Victor; a rather lovely overdose of laughter, actually. She was invincible. Bullet-proof, undefeatable. Untouchable. She barely felt the harsh blow to her jaw.


Her head jerked the other way now, as she still only JUST felt a blow to her eye, and her body moved slightly to her right, taking the hit full force, laughing. Ever laughing... She saw Luke stand in the corner of her eye, and it seemed only then that everything would go to plan. Yeah, she had no plan, but did that even matter? Her plan didn't have to exist, all she knew was that by enraging Victor to this point, she'd egged him into making the one most fatal error short of harming Luke; he'd attacked Luke's sister.


Still laughing, now a wild, uncontrolled explosion of laughter, maniac and psychotic, she was struck in the nose. She felt the blow, yes, but didn't react. Likewise, she heard the very audible crunch of shattered bone and cartiledge, but screw reaction. She let Luke handle that. As she dropped from her seat, to the side, she could only grin and carry on her insane laughter as Luke blasted a table at him. Luke rached for her arm, and in forethought, she touched the shards of glass stuck in the limb and her hand glowed blue as the shards vanished, merging with the rest of the air. Aye, blood now rose a bit faster from the spots there, but not anything to worry about. No use crying over spilt blood. And now, just out of his reach as a table flew at him, Lily could only wickedly grin and yell out yet more song lyrics, Magnum being the choice of artist now. "Go on SHOOT! Justify the blood you're spilling! Go on SHOOT! Show the world that you're not kidding!~" Yes. She had a death wish, so it seemed...

Luke dragged her away then, and she finally calmed down, smiling at him. "Because he told you to shut up, silly~ Besides, he's as stubborn as stone, there wouldn't have been anything but angering him more, so I did~Besides, better he hit me than you; I'd have leveled the bar in that case, and I kinda like it here. Y'know, without No Name whining."

"DO NOT. EVER. PUT YOUR FILTHY FUCKING HANDS. ON MY SISTER. EVER. AGAIN." Victor's face swelled and reddened until it bore the likeness of a tomato. His sleeves, fists, and even part of his face, once lit up with glee, was now lined with specks and lashes of blood that had spurted upwards from Vic's pistolwhipping. He considered it generous. Anyone he hadn't had an ounce of respect for, and he'd execute them right there and now.

Half of him wanted to commend the kids for his balls and promptly kneecap him. However, that half was unfortunately buried beneath drug-frozen synapses and a body fuelled by whiskey, cocaine, and pure, undiluted anger of the cleanest and simplest form. Rage began to drip from him like sweat, simply emanating and radiating from the man. "You'd better not have just tried to give me orders, you little fuck," Victor spat, lifting his lips to reveal gritted teeth. "ORDERS?!" The spitting turned to a bellow. "FROM AN UNEDUCATED LITTLE FUCK LIKE YOU?!" Then to a howl, almost inhuman in the tones of sheer rage they possessed. "IN MY OWN FUCKING CLUB!?" Silence as cackling laughter escaped Victor's throat, before he snapped the guns upwards and cut the giggles short, just snapping at the kid like a shark would at a fish.

"YOU'RE A TENACIOUS LITTLE CUNT, YOU NAMELESS PIECE OF FILTH," A pause, Victor letting the echo resonate through the room. "LAST WARNING. SIT BACK DOWN BEFORE YOU REALLY PISS ME OFF, AND DO SOMETHING YOU TRULY REGRET." That was when the kid blasted a table at him.

Big mistake. Victor snapped into reaction. Had it not been for the cocaine surging through his veins, he would've reacted a hell of a lot slower. Funnily enough, in this instance, Class A drugs saved Victor Dresden's life. Raising the shotgun, in an instant, Victor pulled the trigger twice, and emptied both barrels into the rather expensive VIP coffee table. The first shot slammed into it and caused the thing to weaken considerably, cracks appearing all along it, and the second split it in two, and crushed all the momentum it possessed. In a matter of moments, inches before it would have collided into Victor and sent him reeling across the room, the remainder of the table lay on the floor, two halves of wood and thousands of tiny glass particulates, drumming along the floor like tiny, shattered diamonds.

Due to the angling of it all, the pellets hadn't gone anywhere at all near the Rosario twins, though Victor found himself trembling a touch more, his hands far unsteadier than they'd been earlier. The case had been toppled, and, raising the Beretta and training it to Luke's head as he simmered with rage, moving to the empty container and setting Minotaur, the Lupara shotgun, back down in its holder, barrels smoking, and ammunitions entirely spent saved for two empty plastic shells.

Instead, Victor now rose the PP-19 into the other hand. Glass crunched underfoot. The half of him that would've commended this kid's balls was sitting beneath three grams of cocaine. The other half just wanted to slaughter him and be done with it. But somewhere between those two, that silken, beautiful white powder had driven a steak between and offered its own choice, adding in a third half. A half that was unpredictable, sporadic, and erratic, liable to do everything and nothing all at once.

Victor spat off to the side, his face contorted in a vision of rage. "BAD IDEA, YOU LITTLE FUCK," The gunshots echoed and whined in the canals of Vic's ears, and he let the PP-19 fall slack at his side, charging in to grip Luke's collar firmly with his free left hand, hoisting the little bastard up and pressing him against the wall. "TRY AND LAUNCH A FUCKING TABLE AT ME NOW, YOU INSIGNIFICANT LITTLE BASTARD,"

"Because he told you to shut up, silly~ Besides, he's as stubborn as stone, there wouldn't have been anything but angering him more, so I did~Besides, better he hit me than you; I'd have leveled the bar in that case, and I kinda like it here. Y'know, without No Name whining." Victor spun to her, seething and panting as his face only reddened further. Destruction flared in his eyes as he trained them quickly on her, raising the Beretta to her forehead.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, BEFORE I EXECUTE YOU, STRING YOU UP, AND GUT YOU SIX WAYS FROM FUCKING SUNDAY, YOU LITTLE BITCH OF A PRIEST," A pause. "AND I'LL KILL YOUR SHITHEAD OF A BROTHER, TOO." He rose the gun back to Luke's face as he glared back at the kid.

"KEEP QUIET AND LISTEN." For the next sentence, he roared plainly enough, pressing his head up to Luke's ears. "I DO NOT WANT YOU HERE. I OWN THIS PLACE. IT'S MY RIGHT TO DO WHATEVER THE FUCK I LIKE WITH IT. THAT INCLUDES THE FUCKING GUESTS LIST." That was plain and simple enough. But, for flinging a table at him? One of his tables!? IN HIS OWN CLUB!? There would be consequences.

"As for your little alchemy gig," Victor spat, his voice lowering, cocaine still coursing through his veins along with the alcohol. "You're an audacious little fuckbag, and I..." It was hard to speak through gritted teeth and offer this disrespectful imbecile any positive feedback. "Well, I understand that. YOU REMIND ME OF ME WHEN I WAS YOUNGER," Victor roared. Drug-forged fondness twinkled along Victor's irises as he snarled in pride, snapping himself back into reality. "But you gotta realise that this is going to have consequences..." The man trailed off, loosening his grip on Luke's collar and allowing the shit to fall to the floor.

"You've got balls, kid," Victor moved over to the next coffee table, and picked up a bottle of twenty-year-old whiskey from it, flicking off the cap and drinking it with his one free hand, letting the cask-matured liquid burn its way down his throat for a good few seconds before he tossed the hundred-dollar bottle off to the side, smashing it, with a sigh. "But unless you can back 'em up all the way through, those balls will getcha into a lot of trouble in my world," He tucked Eclipse, the Beretta, back into its holster, and began his advance back towards the pair, gripping the Bizon and holding it steady at his waist; he could twist it to fuck either of them up with ease if they moved, fill each of them with lead.

"Look at you..." He sneered, stopping in his tracks. Glass crunched underfoot. The speech turned back into a rage-fuelled, angry snarl, almost indistinct in its primal animalism. "Been playing in the deep fucking end of the pool for five goddamn minutes, and suddenly, you think you OWN THE FUCKING PLACE," Once more, in that systematic way that Victor did it, he just continued to beget his own anger, spawning and prodding it again and again, a self-perpetuating vicious cycle which rarely settled. "I'VE GOT NEWS FOR YOU, SHITSACK," Another pause. "YOU'RE STILL A SHRIMP, STILL A SMALL-TIMER, AND STILL A FUCKING KID!" Victor spat off to the opposite side once more, aiming close to Lily's shoes. "YOU'RE A MUTT, COMPARED TO ME, KID," He snapped up to Lily, howling once more. "YOUR SISTER, TOO,"

The glass continued to crunch underfoot. He moved over to Lucas, and, finally, lowered the submachine gun, pointing solid at his forehead, with a look of bloodlust and glee mixed together, intermingling near-perfectly upon that reddening expression. "Truth is... you'll never get as big as me. You can't even hope to." Lowered now to a whisper. "You're a fucking joke."

Right there, and then, Victor had his heart set on killing him. His fingers weaved around and began to compress on the trigger. Had he squeezed it fully, he would've shot upwards in an arc of recoil, but not before spattering Luke's brains and skull all over the VIP lounge. And for two reasons, and two reasons alone, he hesitated, stopped, and decided on a different course of action. The first was that they'd already trashed the lounge enough, and blood was far harder to clean up properly than glass and a few bullet holes. And the second?

The alternative course of action he'd decided upon was far more amusing.

At the last moment, he swung the gun to the side, and tensed his finger on the trigger. A burst of rounds spilled out from the end of the barrel, firing upwards to draw a curved line upon the wall, hand unsteady when firing such a volatile weapon even to an expert gunman as himself. Smoke quickly began to trail upwards from the sub-machine gun, Victor exhausting a good twenty rounds when he finally stopped, leaving naught but the rounds' echo, the ting of fresh cartridge casings spend, and the stench of cordite upon the air. A smell that Victor, personally, loved.

Grasping Luke by the collar once more, Victor pulled him up to his feet, and spun him around, pushing him up against the wall as he grit his teeth in determination. "HOWEVER," Victor made a bellowing announcement of a comment, his eyes glistening with happiness, obviously something rather of a treat in store for the kid. "YOU ARE STILL BUT A CHILD, MISTAKES WILL BE FUCKING MADE, BOYS WILL BE BOYS, BLAH BLAH BLAH,"

With a vice-like grip, holding Luke up to the wall using his foot as a stop, Victor grasped his pants, and yanked on them until they gave way, slipping down a good couple of inches, thus, revealing the soft, white flesh of Lucas Rosario's ass-cheeks. The barrel of the PP-19 Bizon sub-machine gun still left smoke trailing as a grin lit up on the Dresden twin's face, the arms dealer's plans now that slight bit clearer. He looked greedily from the firearm to Luke's hindquarters, and back again. "BRING ON..." He began to roar as an announcer would for a gladiator show, or a bullfight. "...THE BRAAAAAND!"

With that, Victor grasped the sub-machine gun, tilted it downwards, and rammed it dead-centre into the flesh of Luke's ass-cheek. Further smoke filled the air, the barrel's orange-red heat fading from its muzzle as the smell of burning flesh wafted greedily into the arms dealer's nostrils. He held the boy in place with a single hand on his back, pinning him to the wall as he stuck out his tongue with a look of insane determination similar to that of a workman's lining his face.

He kept the weapon pressed into Luke's ass-cheek for around ten or fifteen seconds before pulling it away, staring masterfully at the sore-patch and the smoking red ring of a scar he'd left on the boy's right buttock. Picking up the case and setting it upon the far table, Victor unhooked the PP-19 from his shoulders and set it back down, clipping the briefcase shut with a sigh. A productive evening after all.

"You're lucky, kid, you're getting away with just that," He yawned, and spoke as if he were talking about frying an egg, or going for a stroll in the park. He jerked a thumb towards Luke's scarred, singed arse. "Normally, I'd kill you, your sister, and your parents and workmates for good measure," Another sigh. God, he was getting tired. He felt the cocaine begin to buck and fade; he was coming down off of his high. MORE LINES! "I'll leave you be with that, now. But you've got a warning, the both of you," A snarl, and Victor unsheathed his pistol. "If I ever see you again, on the streets, in the club, wherever," Victor spun towards them.

"I'll fucking kill you. I'll shoot you, cut you, gut you, behead you, violate you in every manner possible, and then stick your brainless mugs on pikes on my elevator doors as a general deterrent for spineless morons like you two, and a warning for people not to fuck with me." Silence. Victor rose his pistol off to the side, and shot Henderson a third and final time, splattering the man's head like he'd crunch an egg underfoot. "Clear?" He waited for no response, taking the silence as approval. "Good."

He headed towards the exit elevator of the VIP lounge, ready to return to his fortress. Aside from the three of them, and Henderson's body, the only inhabitants of the room were crickets, tumbleweed, and a few ballsy bartenders that had seen the whole shebang before. Victor grabbed a cold beer off of the bar before heading to the elevator and pressing the button, spinning round one final time. This sort of thing was probably bad for business. "Now GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY DAMN CLUB BEFORE I HAVE TO DRAG YOU OUT BY YOUR GUTLESS, DISEMBOWLED, MORON BODIES MYSELF!"

With that, he stepped backwards into the open elevator with a comical ting, all manner of senseless instrumental music washing over him as he slammed the button marked '5', ready to go back upstairs for a good bout with one of Selina's best. Maybe he'd try taking a line of cocaine off of her ass. He always liked doing that. Especially if she had such a round rump as the last one... mmm...