Desmond Miles ❖ 007
Who: failssassin and all of somarium !
Where: In front of his club, in Somni
Style: Starts in third, but I'll match any
Status: OPEN! Desmond's club falls victim to the Prohibition mob and gets burned down to the ground. Come comfort him! Or laugh at him! Or be part of the mob! Police officers and firefighters very much welcomed in this thread as well!
Warnings: Language for now.
"Hey! What's going on here?!?"
Desmond quickly makes his way through the crowd assembled in front of his club. But it's not the shouting against what the establishment does that worries him, but the sound of wood cracking and glass shattering. He pushes the demonstrators baring signs claiming the devil is residing in the club, gently at first, but as the leader of the mob starts to ask for the place to be torn apart, for this town to be rid of this abomination, the bartender starts to shove people to get to him.
"What the hell man?!?!" the Assassin snarls as he gestures to the overthrown and broken furniture lying in front of the club in the muddy street. As he feared, the rowdiest member of the mob have broken into the club, destroying the chairs and tables and breaking the many liquor and beer bottles as well.
The ringleader turns around and Desmond recognizes him as one of his best customer before this whole 'faded colors 1920 set-up' things happened to the dream world. He gives him a glare while the other returns it with growl as he grabs the front of the white dress shirt Desmond had finally put on that morning:
"You! You harbour the devil inside this place! And cater to all the sinners' needs! This must end now!"
"Come on, man! This is not the Prohibition! You used to love this place!" retorts the Assassin, quickly disengaging himself from the hold on his clothes. When the crowd gasps and calms down momentarily, waiting on its leader's answer to Desmond's accusation, the leader huffs and shakes his fist:
"Lies!! All slanders and lies! Do you not see, my good people, what alcohol can do to an honest man? Turn him into a sinner and a liar! God demands that such atrocities be erased from this place! In fire it shall perish, by the fire it shall be cleansed!"
The crowd roars and Desmond's eyes widen as it dawns to him what the man means. Already, rioters are closing in to the windows of the club with what looks like Molotov cocktails in their hands.
"Oh for fuck's sake...No, no, no, no...."
What happens next seems like a blur to the bartender: Desmond launches himself forward to try and stop the men but is quickly stopped with a hit to his stomach delivered by the cross of a Tommy gun. Hard hands grab his shoulders and forces him to his knees, the hands heavily resting on him to keep him down. But there's no real need: there's nothing he can do anymore, and he watches in disbelief as the fire quickly spreads around. He barely notices the arm he brings over his face to shield himself as the front windows violently shatters from the explosion as the brazer catches on to the liquor reserve. Behind him, the crowd screams jubilantly at its victory and the rioters slowly disassembles as the firefighters' siren can be heard in the background.
Too shock to move, Desmond watches what's had become his life in Somarium disappear in smoke and flames.
Where: In front of his club, in Somni
Style: Starts in third, but I'll match any
Status: OPEN! Desmond's club falls victim to the Prohibition mob and gets burned down to the ground. Come comfort him! Or laugh at him! Or be part of the mob! Police officers and firefighters very much welcomed in this thread as well!
Warnings: Language for now.
"Hey! What's going on here?!?"
Desmond quickly makes his way through the crowd assembled in front of his club. But it's not the shouting against what the establishment does that worries him, but the sound of wood cracking and glass shattering. He pushes the demonstrators baring signs claiming the devil is residing in the club, gently at first, but as the leader of the mob starts to ask for the place to be torn apart, for this town to be rid of this abomination, the bartender starts to shove people to get to him.
"What the hell man?!?!" the Assassin snarls as he gestures to the overthrown and broken furniture lying in front of the club in the muddy street. As he feared, the rowdiest member of the mob have broken into the club, destroying the chairs and tables and breaking the many liquor and beer bottles as well.
The ringleader turns around and Desmond recognizes him as one of his best customer before this whole 'faded colors 1920 set-up' things happened to the dream world. He gives him a glare while the other returns it with growl as he grabs the front of the white dress shirt Desmond had finally put on that morning:
"You! You harbour the devil inside this place! And cater to all the sinners' needs! This must end now!"
"Come on, man! This is not the Prohibition! You used to love this place!" retorts the Assassin, quickly disengaging himself from the hold on his clothes. When the crowd gasps and calms down momentarily, waiting on its leader's answer to Desmond's accusation, the leader huffs and shakes his fist:
"Lies!! All slanders and lies! Do you not see, my good people, what alcohol can do to an honest man? Turn him into a sinner and a liar! God demands that such atrocities be erased from this place! In fire it shall perish, by the fire it shall be cleansed!"
The crowd roars and Desmond's eyes widen as it dawns to him what the man means. Already, rioters are closing in to the windows of the club with what looks like Molotov cocktails in their hands.
"Oh for fuck's sake...No, no, no, no...."
What happens next seems like a blur to the bartender: Desmond launches himself forward to try and stop the men but is quickly stopped with a hit to his stomach delivered by the cross of a Tommy gun. Hard hands grab his shoulders and forces him to his knees, the hands heavily resting on him to keep him down. But there's no real need: there's nothing he can do anymore, and he watches in disbelief as the fire quickly spreads around. He barely notices the arm he brings over his face to shield himself as the front windows violently shatters from the explosion as the brazer catches on to the liquor reserve. Behind him, the crowd screams jubilantly at its victory and the rioters slowly disassembles as the firefighters' siren can be heard in the background.
Too shock to move, Desmond watches what's had become his life in Somarium disappear in smoke and flames.