IC: Anyanka (Bar, Onu-Wahi)
Anyanka's head snapped up from Aexias suddenly, her deep brown eyes, clouded with smoke, suddenly filled with a deeper intrigue. Her gaze met Havon head on, and--
Wait, no it didn't. He kept moving a...what the...why did he keep wobbling out of her gaze? Was his skeleton gelatinous? What sorcery was this? What kind of glitch was causing the Matrix to spaz out in such a fashion that this strange little man had wandered into what had just moments before been a pretty peaceful bar and ask for the biggest, grossest, most mainstream drink one could ask for? Frankly, it was kind of insulting to the somnambulist.
Oh, right. He was a drunkard. Well, that's no fun.
"Hey. Buddy! Hai."
Havon turned around drunkenly and met Anyanka's gaze, slurring a hi back. The Toa of Plasma had to work not to recoil; this guy could probably brew moonshine with just an incisor, could ferment alcohol inside his throat, so foul and potent was the stench of drink on his breath. Stand around this guy for more than ten seconds without a tolerance, and he'd have you rolling around on the floor spilling your secrets to someone who looks like your best friend but in reality was a cop who would just love to hear about all the petty crimes you committed back when you were doing freelance work in the Great Mines.
"Yeah. Uh...you kind of just crashed our party, and...wow, you smell dank. Like...really, really just hoppy. You trying to drink yourself to death or something?"
No answer; the Toa of Fire clutched haplessly at the bar and focused his eyes, trying to see past hers. Something in the adventurer's gaze flickered, a brief moment of clarity, but then it dimmed and died again, leaving him clueless as to the danger he was in by being around the Toa of Plasma. Her grin flicked upward a notch, sharp enough to leave a ding in Protosteel. Slowly, her hand reached around a bottle of small batch bourbon, and her other hand slowly brushed Havon's cheek, then his jawline, then his chin.
"Poor baby," she sighed sadly. "I'll take that silence as a yes, yes? Sounds like a yes. Shame, shame, shame. Well, I mean, I guess if there's no stopping you..."
Her index finger suddenly darted into his crown meridian, underneath his chin, and pushed upwards hard: Havon's mouth suddenly grew even limper, if that were possible, and began to sag like the skin of an old woman: Anyanka then reached her fingers into his mouth - a bar towel was, of course, wrapped around them; she didn't want whatever residual booze was hanging around this guy's saliva soaking her soft hands - and pushed down hard, breaking his jaw with a stomach-jolting snap. Now it hung even limper, flopping like a fish attempting escape from a net, slapping everything in its path. The imagery made Anyanka giggle, almost as much as the sudden return of the understanding spark in his eyes.
"...I might as well help!"
The somnambulist mercenary took the bottle of bourbon with much more cheer than you would normally expect from a person who was about to attempt what Havon thought she was about to attempt, but she was crazy. Clearly, this girl was crazy. And why did he smell smoke...?
"Do me a favor. Cough," Anyanka said, her voice suddenly totally grimdark, like a doctor performing an exam on a patient: she took the bottle and thrust it into Havon's mouth, the bottle sliding seamlessly through his mouth - after, of course, the impact broke all his teeth - as the neck lodged into the start of his throat. The bottle was uncorked by the blow, causing the bourbon to spill into Havon's stomach all at once like a waterfall. Through bloody and alcohol-soaked gums he attempted to scream, but the sound only was caught in the empty bottle and echoed back into his throat, creating an odd, bassy sound in his chest.
"You didn't cough, you twit!" she chirped angrily, crossing her arms. "Now how am I supposed to know if you're healthy or not? God."
The assassin made her way back over to the pool table and then stopped, turning back to the wailing - or, at least, she assumed it was wailing; it sounded to her like dubstep - Havon and the bartender, sniveling in the corner and trying to hide from the wrath of the newcomer. She turned back to Aexias, then to the pool table, and her grin lit up again, all Chesire and pretty and oddly terrifying.
Anyanka advanced first on Havon, then on the bartender; both, in their weakened and inebriated states, were incapacitated with ease and carried to the center of the floor, where the Toa of Plasma ripped the halves of the pool stick from their niche in the floor only to stab them through the right foot of each Toa, crushing the bones and preventing escape. Aexias, the poor Skakdi assassin, watched in horror as another pool stick was broken and shoved into the dominant hand of each patron of the bar as Anyanka stood back, adopting the flourish and pose of a circus ringmaster.
"I once knew a guy who used to take marshmallow chicks on holidays, put toothpicks in them, and then try and melt them to see which was a better warrior!" she explained happily. "I'm kinda curious to see it happen on, well...a larger scale, I guess? What do you think, Aexias?"
No answer from the Skakdi: Anyanka, pouting, snapped her fingers, and suddenly the floor beneath Havon and the bartender erupted into plasma, burning away at their feet, bubbling and broiling like devilish carbonated water. Havon's screams inside the bottle grew louder: the bar employee had no such inhibition when it came to his screaming, and within seconds wails rang out through the dank air, creating an ambiance of pain and a slow, merciless death that the Toa of Plasma almost seemed to soak up, as though she were sunbathing in it.
"I can't wait to see which of you two lovely little marshmallows proves to be the better," she giggled, "but as it is, we have more wabbits to hunt! Right, Aexias?"
No answer, again, and Anyanka sighed, rolling her eyes and muttering something about girl talk. The merc took Aexias by the hand and pulled her out of the bar, leaving the screams of Havon and Sir Mookington behind her as both men melted alive, naught but marshmallows caught in a bad dream.
OOC: Anyanka and Aexias out of region.
It begins.
-Tyler
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