Who: OPEN TO ALL.
When: Saturday, December 3rd, from four P.M. to morning sirens.
Where: An abandoned warehouse in Sector 8.
Summary: That
one zazzy event Pickles and D-Joe have been talking about.
Warnings: Adult language, loud music, alcohol and drug consumption, mentions of satanic imagery, eventual violence and NPC death, and anything else that
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At about a half past four, she enters the warehouse (able to get in for free by saying she was with "D-Joe" and a newcomer), eyes widening at the sight of the interior.
She glances back at the door, moving inside with a small crowd of people. It was probably rude to leave this early. ]
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He's excited for tonight, hopeful and bouncing on his toes, a little anxious that the big warehouse won't be packed, lest that seem lame.
He skims the crowd for anyone who seems remotely familiar, hoping to see Roxas and his spiky blonde hair, or maybe that really cool sounding convict he's spoken to on the network.
...or hey. Maybe another blonde?]
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It’s a little difficult to maneuver through the crowd, but with a little forceful shoving, Claire manages to get through. ] Hey, Joe.
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But he was on the hunt for certain drug dealers, who he was sure wouldn't give up going to a thing like this. He glanced around as a set ended, looking for someone.]
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[OOC: See here for references on the usual effects of Dethklok's music.]]
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[One aggro'd Joe Fieldman, fresh off the natural high of a crowd listening to whatever his thumb decides to punch into the mixer (and the secondhand high of...the haze currently wafting through the warehouse) tears off one side of his headphones and glowers at Pickles.
Since when was jacking his set without warning part of the game plan!
So as the speakers begin to wail with strange and melodious deth previously unheard in the Port, the tech at the soundbooth (currently ousted from playing poser DJ) clenches fists in righteous fury, ponders cutting the speakers, but-
His finger pauses on the volume sliders. Nah, the music is actually awesome. So he takes it up to the max, because if the subwoofers blow now, he can always just blame Pickles.
With that, he whips around and mouths over the deafening noise
'What's the big idea!']
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But he knows he got it to work when he hears the orchestral opening to Dethharmonic--what he considered a strong opening to get the crowd warmed up.
It grabs Pickles, at the very least. Music was supposed to take you to a different place--or something gay like that. As soon as he heard the violins, he remembers the concert and Fatty Ding Dongs in crystal sharp detail. It's almost disorienting to hear Nate's voice again; then rock backwards and remember where he was.
Before he can react, he turns and sees Joe mouthing...something to him. He grins crookedly and waves.]
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It definitely did not work out as well as she thought it would. ]
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The key difference was normally when this shit was happening, he was on stage and out of the line of fire. He was going to have bruises from dicks and assholes elbowing him in the gut, and he was trying to stay away from anyone that looked like a cop...
Pickles nearly jumps out of his sneakers when he feels something latch onto his ankle. It's alarming to feel anything touch him below the waist; he can't even process what would be on the ground until he looks and sees a girl. What was she doing there?
Blinking a couple times:] You all right?
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Be a gentleman and help a lady up, bro. ]
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