04-14-2015, 06:37 PM
White calmly adjusted his tie as he noticed Oriena's gaze flick over him, and the room's poor lighting wasn't quite able to hide the hint of a smirk that crossed her features. Did she recognize him, or find his dispatching of Goldie to be pleasing? Women in general were dangerous, but few could really catch his attention. Spectra being the top of the list.
He rolled his shoulders, buttoned his suit jacket closed, brushed away some of the dirt, then glanced towards the group that had formed around Oriena and her mystery boy-toy of the evening. The third man in their company was familiar; no one worth their salt would fail to recognize the Sigma, Marcus DuBois.
The Almaz's security finally began to show their unremarkable faces. They had likely been delayed struggling their way through the flood of cowards racing for the exits, or some other paltry excuse to have missed the brunt of the excitement, but they still had appearances to maintain. The club's visitors loved the false feeling of danger the club offered. A few dozen bruisers in the rafters and the strict no-weapons policy enforced at the doors were a nice safety net for the city's coddled elite. They could pretend the club was dangerous and filthy and sinister, while being consciously aware that if there really was trouble, there were men in place to keep their hides safe.
The bruisers stalked forward on where Goldie and Rougarou had fallen, and while Giovanni was in the company of ones importantly placed enough to, probably, keep their boorish hands off his designer suit, White did not have that protection. Not that he needed it, of course. He was just another bruiser to their eyes, one who had overstepped his place and made them look bad.
One approached at a bold stride, closing the distance on White and raising a hand warningly, "Step back right now, sir."
The honorific wasn't exactly honestly given; the bruiser all but spat the 'sir' part, a requirement for 'polite' conversation.
White fixed the approaching man with a cold stare, brow furrowed as a few drops of blood fell from one dark eyebrow. "Are you head of security here?"
His tone was quiet, but clear, and most certainly dismissive. The bruiser clearly wasn't; it was just a line to draw the man in.
"What? No! Now know your place and get outta the way, you fu..."
the bruiser closed and swung an arm against White's chest, aiming to push White out of the way, none too politely.
White moved quickly. His left arm came up over the bruiser's extended arm, then drove down, catching his wrist in White's grip. The downward drive of his arm bent the bruiser's arm inward sharply, causing the big man to stagger forward a half-step, where White's right elbow snapped forward to connect with the man's throat gently. Gently by White's standards anyway.
The big man gurgled in surprise, beady eyes wide with shock as White grabbed a fist-full of the man's hair and released his arm, then with both hands in the guard's hair drove the man's face down into White's rising knee, which struck against the lug's forehead with a resounding crack of bone-against-bone. The guard dropped to his knees with a pitiful, concussed mewling, but White kept a grip on the man's hair, curling it in one fist to force the man to, barely, stay on his feet.
Long enough for White to lift the man's cheap tie and carefully dab the blood from his forehead from where Goldie had scratched him. He paid the other guards no mind; they had all frozen in the few seconds it had taken White to subdue the lead bruiser.
Satisfied that the drops of blood were under control, White dropped the concussed guard to the floor and into the sour puddle of urine that had dribbled from the man's pant leg, then calmly plucked a card from one pocket. He held it up between two fingers, letting the room's low light glint off the boldly embossed logo of Pervaya Iiniya Securities, then flicked it to the least dumb-struck looking bruiser, "Consider this evening an impromptu test of your club's security arrangements. The sort of clientele you cater to, you may want to bring in a consultant. Now, does anyone else want to try touching me tonight?"
The guards balked as White calmly removed himself from the immediate vicinity of Goldie, and even waved impatiently for some of the guards to deal with the unconscious property and their fallen comrade, but none seemed ready to further accost White at the moment. They were well paid, but that only went so far at times, and if he was cooperating...well, they didn't need to push him any further, did they?
He rolled his shoulders, buttoned his suit jacket closed, brushed away some of the dirt, then glanced towards the group that had formed around Oriena and her mystery boy-toy of the evening. The third man in their company was familiar; no one worth their salt would fail to recognize the Sigma, Marcus DuBois.
The Almaz's security finally began to show their unremarkable faces. They had likely been delayed struggling their way through the flood of cowards racing for the exits, or some other paltry excuse to have missed the brunt of the excitement, but they still had appearances to maintain. The club's visitors loved the false feeling of danger the club offered. A few dozen bruisers in the rafters and the strict no-weapons policy enforced at the doors were a nice safety net for the city's coddled elite. They could pretend the club was dangerous and filthy and sinister, while being consciously aware that if there really was trouble, there were men in place to keep their hides safe.
The bruisers stalked forward on where Goldie and Rougarou had fallen, and while Giovanni was in the company of ones importantly placed enough to, probably, keep their boorish hands off his designer suit, White did not have that protection. Not that he needed it, of course. He was just another bruiser to their eyes, one who had overstepped his place and made them look bad.
One approached at a bold stride, closing the distance on White and raising a hand warningly, "Step back right now, sir."
The honorific wasn't exactly honestly given; the bruiser all but spat the 'sir' part, a requirement for 'polite' conversation.
White fixed the approaching man with a cold stare, brow furrowed as a few drops of blood fell from one dark eyebrow. "Are you head of security here?"
His tone was quiet, but clear, and most certainly dismissive. The bruiser clearly wasn't; it was just a line to draw the man in.
"What? No! Now know your place and get outta the way, you fu..."
the bruiser closed and swung an arm against White's chest, aiming to push White out of the way, none too politely.
White moved quickly. His left arm came up over the bruiser's extended arm, then drove down, catching his wrist in White's grip. The downward drive of his arm bent the bruiser's arm inward sharply, causing the big man to stagger forward a half-step, where White's right elbow snapped forward to connect with the man's throat gently. Gently by White's standards anyway.
The big man gurgled in surprise, beady eyes wide with shock as White grabbed a fist-full of the man's hair and released his arm, then with both hands in the guard's hair drove the man's face down into White's rising knee, which struck against the lug's forehead with a resounding crack of bone-against-bone. The guard dropped to his knees with a pitiful, concussed mewling, but White kept a grip on the man's hair, curling it in one fist to force the man to, barely, stay on his feet.
Long enough for White to lift the man's cheap tie and carefully dab the blood from his forehead from where Goldie had scratched him. He paid the other guards no mind; they had all frozen in the few seconds it had taken White to subdue the lead bruiser.
Satisfied that the drops of blood were under control, White dropped the concussed guard to the floor and into the sour puddle of urine that had dribbled from the man's pant leg, then calmly plucked a card from one pocket. He held it up between two fingers, letting the room's low light glint off the boldly embossed logo of Pervaya Iiniya Securities, then flicked it to the least dumb-struck looking bruiser, "Consider this evening an impromptu test of your club's security arrangements. The sort of clientele you cater to, you may want to bring in a consultant. Now, does anyone else want to try touching me tonight?"
The guards balked as White calmly removed himself from the immediate vicinity of Goldie, and even waved impatiently for some of the guards to deal with the unconscious property and their fallen comrade, but none seemed ready to further accost White at the moment. They were well paid, but that only went so far at times, and if he was cooperating...well, they didn't need to push him any further, did they?