(Untitled)

[sunnydalealum]

February 14th, 2007
ManhattanNobody on the street (not even the beat cop on the corner) seems to notice anything odd about the fact that very well-dressed people, singly or in pairs or larger groups, have been walking into the closed-for-repairs underground parking garage and not walking out. Nor do they notice anything odd about the people in

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[nomorekaraoke]

It's a ripple of expectation, of delight and nervous tension all at once. What will it be like inside? Will I get in? Will she? The air is alive with energy that no one cares to subdue. Everyone there has their cards, they're special enough to have them, and now there's only one thing left. One last obstacle to overcome before they can mingle with the latest and the greatest.

A murmur spreads like wildfire from the front of the line, where the two guards make the final adjustments; some sort of technical equipment. Metal detectors? Something more difficult to get by?

And then, one by one the expectant guests start walking up to it. The first three get to go inside and do so eagerly. The fourth one... The fourth one is louder, despite his vertically challenged frame.

"I SHOT THE SHERIFF, BUT I DID NOT SHOOT THE DEPUTY--" After a moment, he dances all the way to where the party's at.

[sunnydalealum]

A very different ripple goes through the few human (or formerly human) members of Lord Vayan's entourage.

"Wait, was that --"

[stilljustandrew]

"Was he --?"

[sunnydalealum]

"Singing," Angel finishes, his voice very low and tight.

[nomorekaraoke]

Tonight, Lord Vayan is dressed to impress and furthering his appearance with a regal bearing the likes of which the Queen of England would envy. He wrinkles his nose slightly at the way his hired help tenses every which way. It is unseemly.

"Is there a problem?" He asks Andrew. Pointedly.

[stilljustandrew]

"An unforeseen circumstance, my lord," says Andrew; he's spent the last couple of days rereading the Gondor and Rohan sequences of Lord of the Rings to drum the right rhythm of speech into his head. "Is this customary, for those who gather here to sing before they enter?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Unless one sings, one is not permitted into the club proper," Vayan explains loftily. "It is the way of things, and a small price to pay for partaking in the festivities."

[sunnydalealum]

"A curious custom," Andrew observes gravely.

"But as you say, Lord Vayan," Angel puts in, "a small price to pay as a courtesy to the Host." His gaze flickers to Gunn's on the last words, and then to Spike's, and finally back to Vayan. "I don't think it will be a problem."

[nomorekaraoke]

"Perhaps," Lord Vayan tilts his chin up to observe the trio (down the length of his nose). Questioning the ways of this most select slice of the demonic community? It is a slight he is willing to let slide, but he isn't so sure about the host.

"But one would not, should not, call it a courtesy."

[stilljustandrew]

"Is it not?" Andrew tilts his head.

The parking lot's growing ever more crowded, with the line of patrons stretching almost all the way through it and more still arriving; there's the muted rumble of a slowly approaching car, and the dark gleam of a limousine is just barely visible, turning down the spiral ramp from the next level up.

[nomorekaraoke]

The light in the demon lord's eyes changes, flickers like a flame, as he looks from Angel, to the firefly, to the dark one whose name he has yet to take note of, to the icy blond vampire. He leans closer, as if to share the most intricate of insights into demonic high society.

His mouth quirks into a small grin, and his voice rumbles. "It is a requirement."

[sunnydalealum]

"We could just go home," Spike mutters under his nonexistent breath. Oddly, Angel's glance at him isn't quelling or exasperated; it suggests he's strongly tempted to do just that.

[sunnydalealum]

But, to the great disappointment of everyone involved, the prospect of simply going home is diminishing with every tick-tock of the clock. Every second focused on the entrance, on the people arriving, is one second lost where something could be done to foresee what lies ahead.

The wind sends a lone bundle of newspaper rustling and rolling nearby - but there's something else, isn't there?

The parking lot is closed. That car is not supposed to be there.

[nomorekaraoke]

Suddenly, something glints in the air, slicing through the wind itself and coming to a sudden stop not even three inches from Lord Vayan's high forehead. To the left of him, his most trusted aide stares into nothing, her clawed hand reaching up to the thin, pen-like stiletto embedded between her eyebrows. Time slows down. Her eyes go blank, and she falls to the ground in a heap as several cloaked figures burst from the uninvited limousine.

Not one second later, the concrete box echoes with the sound of primal screams.

[sunnydalealum]

The crowd doesn't so much scatter as explode, fragments flying everywhere. A few, including a clutch of vampires in leather and silk and a very good-looking human man in an Armani suit, stand where they are and watch with interest. Of the rest, some flee for the scant cover of the concrete pillars; some set their backs to the wall and brace to defend themselves; and by far most of them stampede for the door to the club.

Angel and Spike are moving forward, Gunn and Andrew drawing back to flank Vayan along with the rest of his pack, all of them drawing weapons.

[nomorekaraoke]

The dangerously thin bouncer by the door cowers behind his pin headed giant of a friend, talking frantically at his left cuff link while the chaos rages on. So much force is behind the expensively clad stampede that the bouncer only known as Jarvis almost budges from his position.

The cloaked figures swarm around their target and his flesh and blood shields, surging not only from the limousine but from every dark corner of the vast garage. Some have swords, other have more unusual weapons; some glint, some don't; but every last one of them move with purpose.

Vayan did not come unarmed, neither did his servants - one of them leaps into the air with a gut wrenching roar and unsheathed claws, using the slate gray wall as a spring board to vault over her master. She will avenge her sister with nothing but her teeth if she has to.