birthright_rpg | (no subject)

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It was a slow night in McKenna's and Mike had let the bartender and most of the waitstaff go early. There was no point in keeping them standing around when there wasn't any demand for them and they wouldn't make any tip money. He knew the business as well as anyone and he hadn't scheduled himself to work the Dive that night, so he put himself behind the bar instead.

Not that there was much to do there either, there were only three customers in the bar area and he had one waitress left to cover the tables. The prep work was all done and at this point unless there was a sudden flood of people all they'd need to do is put things away for the night. He looked up from his newspaper as the bell over the door rang, jostled by said door's movement as someone stepped in from the street.

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As the two men seemed to call a tentative truce Gerald thought to himself, where's a Slayer when you need one? Perhaps he should get one on speed-dial, just for instances such as this. As he sipped his scotch he also thought of Ragnarok, and the clientele there, and wondered if there were any who might have some reason to have loosed these beasts, and whether they'd be so kind as to call them off. But all these thoughts were quickly dismissed when Daniel's suggestions started to flow.

"I'm beginning to think firearms might be about our best bet, given there's two of them," he contributed. "A little noisier than a crossbow, but has the advantage of not requiring reloading. And also there's a greater chance there's one on the premises." He glanced across at the doors that were still being hammered by the hounds outside. "I guess the question then is, given, I'm guessing, that Mike would be the better at using said firearm, which door would you like, Daniel? Left or right? I could take one, you the other, and we open them, Mike shoots them. If we can find a gun, of course."

Edited 2014-01-11 02:10 (UTC)

The comment caused Mike to frown. Guns were something he definitely knew how to use, and he helped funnel weapons to the Army, but he didn't keep the guns in the pub. They could attract too much of the wrong kind of attention to his legit business.

"I've got a pistol. And a shotgun hidden in my office."

“Alright, but… you stay a little behind me,” Daniel said to the older man. He had no inkling of connections to the Council and, besides mild bewilderment over the man’s knowledge on the subject at hand (which he had no time to scrutinize), no reason to believe he wasn’t an ordinary person. “I’m stronger than I look.” Plus, he wouldn’t bleed to death if bitten.

He looked to Mike. “You got any towels? Something to wrap around our forearms in case we have to defend ourselves?”

"I appreciate your concern," Gerald said to Daniel, a little amused that a predicament had presented itself that not only caused a vampire to reveal himself, but that it was to a Watcher. It did cause him to take pause, that the said vampire was willing to put himself between Gerald and harms way, a piece of information he stored away for later consideration. The matters immediately to hand were deserving of his focus right at that moment.

"Bar towels might suffice?" he suggested to Mike, indicating the runners along the bartop.

"Yeah, go ahead and grab towels from behind the bar." Mike waved them in the direction of the bar. "I'm gonna go get the shotgun." Somehow the pistol just didn't feel like it would have enough firepower to do the trick.

It was a good thing he'd never gotten around to taking the box of solid slugs home, they'd come in handy tonight. "I'll be right back."

Daniel went behind the counter. He grabbed a handful of towels and tossed them at Gerald before parsing out a few for himself. There was a roll of tape under the counter in a box of miscellany. First, he wrapped his left forearm in terrycloth. Then he looped tape around it and tore it with his teeth. "This should hold it in place."

The next arm wrap was clumsy, but he managed to make a decently thick sleeve for himself.

"Here." He offered his assistance, just because four hands were easier than two.

"Ready?"

Gerald nodded at Daniel, only bothering to secure a towel to his left arm, and wondering what the other patrons thought of this unlikely trio. "I will take the door on the right, and use it to protect my right side," Gerald stated, explaining his deference to the offer of a 'sleeve' for his other arm. He collected his cane from the bar where he'd left it before going to the restroom. The ornate top was twisted and placed back in his hand, fingers positioned so if necessary, he could activate a button that would convert the lower half into a weapon concealed inside.

He looked around for Mike as he crossed to the door, pushing a couple of chairs to different positions, creating a makeshift barrier that would aid in protecting him once the doors were opened.

Mike shooed the few patrons and staff into the back of the dining area before quickly retrieving his shotgun from the office. Less than five minutes after leaving the other two men he was back, loading the last of the shells into the magazine as he approached.

"I've got everyone in the back, are we ready to do this?" He saw the makeshift barrier and the towels wrapped around their arms and nodded in understanding. Good thinking, that.

He tried to control his own nerves. He'd faced death before, but never in his own country and from something supernatural. There really was no way to know if this was going to work, but the beasts didn't seem to want to go away and he had to think of his employees and customers.

Daniel got into position. It was difficult – nah, it was actual work – to keep his face from vamping out. The last thing he needed was to freak anyone out, but the growls and barks outside the door set his teeth on edge. The hairs on his arms and neck stood up. It was a matter of time. “Ah, sorry if my face,” he gestured vaguely at it, “Yeah.”

He shook his head.

“Alright, Let’s open up on three. One… two… three!”

Daniel pulled. A blast of cool air hit him in the face first, followed by a grotesque stream of saliva and foam as a hound threw itself against the wooden door. He recoiled. His brow rippled and changed. “Yaaargguuuuug!”

As Daniel yelled 'three', Gerald pressed the button on the cane that drew back the sheath on the lower half of the cane. Just a precaution. He also stepped back, opening the door and shielding his body with the large, heavy wooden 'shield'. He knew his limitations, and Mike with his gun, and Daniel with his 'undead' status were both far better equipped to deal with the beasts.

From behind the door he could hear the snarling beast, the pungent odour also heralding the beasts' arrival. With a well-exposed sense of self-preservation he awaited the sound of the shots from Mike, hoping the man wouldn't wait too long, or be overwhelmed by the sight.

Mike nearly froze a at the sight of the beasts, but self preservation was a wonderful motivator. One of the hounds lunged and he snapped out of his brief instant of shock and fear to shove the muzzle of the shotgun into the snarling beast. Here goes nothing. He squeezed the trigger and felt the weapon kick back against his shoulder.

The bullet tore into the hound. It barked and whined as it fell to the floor just inside the pub. It twitched on Daniel's foot, but he didn't notice.

"Nice shot!"

The other hound threw its weight against the gap in the doors.

Gerald felt the weight of the second beast as it shouldered through the door, squeezing him back against the wall and forcing the older gentleman to turn his head so as to prevent his nose being injured. He could smell the beast on the floor but his attention was completely on the one which was now lurching up, it's snarling growl echoing around the empty bar.

"Shooting now, would be good!" he called, hoping Mike hadn't been too overwhelmed by the sight of the beasts.

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