[OPEN; carnival event]

[todefydestiny]

Who: Eike Kusch, Chief Warden Tamaki, Bellatrix Lestrange, Regulus Black, Sirius Black, Elena, and OPEN.
What: The carnival.
Where: The fountain area.
When: September 15; late afternoon to evening.

Comments

[feverhound]

It had to be fate. A disgustingly cliche word, of course -- fate, serendipity, destiny, and such -- but hey, what else could you call such a perfect coincidence

[7livesleft]

The bullet tore into his skin above his left elbow and he clamped a hand over the pain that shot through arm. Well, that was easy. And Spike thought he'd be used to being called that by now.

"That's better," he called back just as loud as before. It was about time he got him to draw his gun. He saw where Namae was aiming and made an amused sound. "But you're still whining too much."

He rushed him then, firing two open shots before cutting to the side and swinging his leg around to kick towards his missing appendage when he was close enough; suddenly interested in seeing just how long he could last.

[feverhound]

As spike spoke, Namae only fingered the trigger, figuring he'd at least give the other the time to finish talking before he shot. But his expectations were overturned -- though he'd pulled the trigger the moment the last word dropped from Spike's lips, the bullet only ruffled past hair and embedded itself into a far wall.

The two shots just barely grazed past him, and Namae fell back a step, laughing under his breath. "Ah -- yeah, that's more like it."

There wasn't time to say more than that. Swiveling on his heel to face the incoming kick, he fired a wild shot in the direction of Spike's leg -- grunting when the impact knocked the breath out of him -- then swung the gun upwards to attempt pistol-whipping Spike across the head.

[7livesleft]

He felt a shot graze dangerously close to leg and might have ripped through his skin; he didn't look and barely shielded his face from his counter. The brunt of the blow hit his arm and he could feel it bruising over the shallow cuts that hadn't completely stopped bleeding. Spike had been careless, but it was never the same if he didn't get hurt, was it?

Not bothering with conversation, because he wasn't thinking about Nagi or the information he needed anymore, he closed the gap between them. He had his gun raised, pushing forward now, using every opening to throw forward a fist or a kick until one would hit home, all while his other arm hung uselessly his side. Spike was aiming to get him against the wall, but failing that he'd be happy to beat him where he stood. He'd earned it.

[feverhound]

Yes. Yes yes yes. Yes. This was what he'd been looking over. This exhilaration, this thrill, this bloodrush through the skull. It was just a pity that Spike hadn't taken things to this level earlier, because by this point, bloodloss and difficulty in breathing had carved down his stamina considerably.

But still, he spared what breath he could to choke out a laugh, grinning as he parried a blow, feeling kick bruise deep into his forearm. A particularly vicious kick jarred against his side, rattling the gunshot wound in his back, and he buckled for a moment before returning the gesture. And his vision was starting to blur around the edges, but what did he care? He was aware enough of the fact that he was being cornered, though, and so. Well. Grinning manically, he made a grab for Spike's shirtfront to catch him in a vicious headbutt, followed by a lunging tackle.

[7livesleft]

He was easy to please, wasn't he? Spike's arms were wet with blood when he drew them back, and not all of it his. He didn't pay it any mind. After all his trouble, he wasn't planning on leaving empty handed.

As close as Namae probably was to losing consciousness, he didn't stop fighting back when he could. And he thought it was a shame, that he'd make a good sparing partner if he wasn't so intent on keeping him from what he wanted.

He felt his shirt being pulled and a sharp blow that came to his forehead a moment later. Shaking off spots in his vision, he didn't recover fast enough to keep his footing when Namae's body slammed into him and grunted as his head bounced against the pavement.

"Heh." Spike was quick to get his good arm between them, gun still in hand, and attempted to roughly shove him off. "Having fun yet?"

[feverhound]

To be honest, the tackle was probably a bad idea, because the impact of hitting the ground easily knocked the breath out of him, and Namae spent a precious moment hunched over, trying to steady his wavering balance. Ah -- his thoughts were spinning. But the shove against his shoulder had him fired right back up, and he laughed as he punched Spike across the jaw -- his gun had gone clattering across the pavement, dropped when he hit the ground, and Dog stood guard over it, growling

[7livesleft]

Spike rubbed the side of his jaw as he stood back up, never taking his eyes off of Namae. He might have gotten carried away. With the amount of blood the guy was losing, he could tell he wouldn't last much longer.

"Selfish, aren't you?" There just a hint of sympathy in that, but he didn't dwell on it. It's what Namae was begging for. And it seemed like he wouldn't settle for anything less.

Only Spike hadn't come there to dick around with him all day. It'd already taken longer than he thought. Not to mention that he might need to take more time to recover before he could hunt anyone else down. If he didn't know better, he'd think Namae planned it like that.

He easily moved out of the way when Namae lashed out again, and made a move to shove him back towards the wall. Spike didn't sound as playful anymore, and he didn't think he need to remind him. "It's not over yet."

[feverhound]

Stagger, cough, reel -- his balance was starting to fail, as was his ability to fight, and Namae grunted as he felt his fist miss its target. The area around his shoulder and side were alternately numb, and throbbing with a dull pain, and he swayed in place for a moment before giving way to the rough shove, laughing as he felt his back his the wall. His shirt had already plastered itself to his back with blood, and there was a faint squelching noise as it glued itself to the wall.

"Ah -- good, good." Another laugh, and Namae shot Spike a drunken smile. Judging by the pins and needles at his fingertips, he had maybe five, ten minutes before he went into shock. Maybe a few more minutes after that before he bled out. Well, no matter. Plenty of time before that. "That's good."

For the first time, Dog showed signs of hesitation, whining for a moment before snarling and Spike -- and Namae calmed him with a lax wave of his hand before grinning at Spike. "Go ahead."

[7livesleft]

Of course he wouldn't object. He'd turned out to be quite the masochist. Spike frowned at that, but at least he was taking him seriously now.

He holstered his gun and thought over how important it was to save him. It wasn't like he could call an ambulance. He guessed it wasn't that important as long as he got what he came for. Like Namae said, death had lost some of its charm in this city.

Spike met his eyes with a deadpan expression. He really hated having to repeat himself, but he could cut him some slack for forgetting the whole reason he was bothering with him. He took a step forward and moved to throw his arm over his collarbone, keeping him upright just as he was pinning him in place.

"Where is he?"

[feverhound]

So close, so close. So so so so close. He could almost taste it, the familiar thrill of life-and-death, of knowing that something still fucking mattered. And Namae just laughed when Spike shoved him against the wall -- still laughed, as he felt the bullet entry point in his back grind against the brick wall. It hurt, but that just made it better. A painless in this city wouldn't mean shit, but at least if it hurt, it was halfway convincing.

"Don't pull the good cop act on me now. Just a little more, just a little bit." His words were rambling, restless, his thoughts scattered, and he laughed against before gripping at Spike's shoulder. "Just a little, okay?"

He jerked down without warning at the same moment that he drove the point of his knee into Spike's stomach.

[7livesleft]

At some point he'd crossed a line, and Spike sneered in revulsion at how desperately he was clinging to him. Could be that this place had finally caused him to snap. Or maybe he always had that little problem; Spike never had heard the story on how he lost his arm after all. Now it was starting to make sense. He should care less, really. What mattered was that Spike was only about half sure that he had the information.

He wasn't in the position to block his leg, and it hit him hard just below his ribcage. Spike grunted and lost his grip for a moment before he slammed it back again, harder than before, this time gripping his shirt tight in his fist. "You don't know when to quit, do you?"

[feverhound]

Yeah, this was what he'd been thirsting for. Pure, unhindered violence, without any of that 'magic' or 'supernatural' bullshit that so many people here seemed to like. And Namae chuckled as he let his head cant back to rest against the wall. "Ah -- yeah. I'm bad at giving up." Pity, though. He could feel his thoughts start to blur, his limbs going numb -- he was probably bleeding out fast.

Without warning, Dog launched itself from where it had been standing, knocking Spike away and pinning him to the ground. And Namae was still laughing, as he slid down the wall, lying down on his back. "But alright. Alright. I'm good." Dog backed off, standing between its master and Spike, growling softly -- and Namae dug a cigarette out of his pocket, searching lazily for his lighter.

"Hey." His words were badly muffled and slurred about the edges, as he idly gestured into the air. "Gimme your communicator."

[7livesleft]

He was breathing harder by now, and he glared through the throbbing in arm. Not that he wouldn't have kept at it if Namae didn't give in, but he was somewhat relieved when he did. "I can tell."

Of course that was when that mutt would finally decide to attack. Spike had almost forgotten it was there before he was suddenly grappling with the thing on the ground. It was stronger than it looked, and he struggled to kick it off without getting bitten. He was reaching for his gun when Namae called. Once it retreated, Spike didn't fail to notice that cat of his watching passively, like it thought he had it under control. He fumed quietly while it discretely cleaned it's fur. Hate you too, pal.

With an immensely soured expression, Spike stood up, fished his communicator out with one hand and threw it at him. He cursed under his breath as he straightened his bloodstained suit. What a goddamn pain.

"Thanks."

[feverhound]

The adrenaline rush was still lingering even after the fight was over, and despite the throbbing pain that was pulsing through his shot back, Namae still felt good enough. Probably lightheadedness from bloodloss, he mused -- but what did it matter, a rush was still a rush. He took his sweet time fishing his lighter from his pocket, staying right where he was lying on the ground as he lit up. "I really wasn't asking much, was I

[7livesleft]

"That'd be a real shame." It'd almost be worth it if he could get rid of the thing. Not like he hadn't tried everything else already. Spike stared down at Namae and sighed away his irritation. He still didn't know much about Genkaku, or if he had the same kind of abilities Senji and the rest of them did. But he could bet it was going to take a lot more to get by him. He'd worry about it later.

Spike picked up the communicator and quickly checked the location, then switched to the network. He had a headache from the whole ordeal, and he strained to remember the name of the last doctor he talked to. How many weeks ago was that? It'd be just his luck if he wasn't there and he'd have to treat their wounds himself.

"Do me a favor, and don't die for a while." He thumbed through the list of filters, considering. "I don't know too many guys who make house calls, but I'll see what I can do."