Post by Press1269 on May 26, 2020 18:43:52 GMT
5/13/2020 [OFF CAMERA]
THE BASEMENT TAVERN
2640 MAIN STREET, SANTA MONICA, CA
"So let's review the facts..."
The two men sat in the 1966 Pontiac Tempest in the parking lot just outside of The Basement Tavern, an underground place where the supernatural could hang out in relative peace of old pact warfare or enemy status. There wasn't any hostilities allowed inside the establishment, and if one were foolish enough to do so, then there would be dire consequences. The proprietor, a winter fey known as Leandra, had went through back channels to gain their services in a disturbing case of murders within the Pixie community. The leads were slim at best, but the two men had followed a few to what they thought were dead ends, but when strung together blew the case wide open.
Youth looked over at his partner's statement, realizing that the big man intended for him to be the one to lay out the 'facts'. "So, a couple of months back there was a disruption in the leadership of this fey, and Leandra was challenged by her lover, Trea. Trea failed in the attempt, and was banished from the tribe. Soon after the fey realm in Santa Monica underwent a series of grisly murders, which had the locals up in arms to find the culprit. This forced Leandra to reach out to her contacts, specifically LoLo, who in turn conscripted us thanks to a favor we owed her."
"The suspects were pretty obvious from the jump." Press suddenly said, not so much interrupting as helping his brain navigate the pathways.
"Correct. After speaking with Leandra, she made it clear that she didn't believe that Trea was involved despite the circumstances of their separation. Matter of fact, she gave signs that the two were still in contact with one another."
"Which was a ruse..." Press added, eyes narrowing.
"Best as I can tell. We followed up on our leads which lead us to The Ice Castle where a Gnome named Gerald had set up shop. Through some intimidation, Gerald revealed he had backed Trea in her coup against Leandra. He also let us know that Trea had been the one kidnapping kids in and around the area, a trick she probably knew would always lead back to Gerald because of his parentage."
"Two more points against her. She has no problem killing, and she has no conscious in concern to who she's doing it to. Kids....that's fucked up."
Youth shudders in agreement but shakes his head clear to continue. "After we decided to let Gerald live, I went back to ask a follow up..."
"You went back for frozen yogurt!" Press exclaimed in accusation.
Youth drew back defensively. "YO! When you recount the facts you can tell it however you want!"
Press eyebrow arched as he crossed his arms over his chest and settled back in his seat. "That sort of seems to defeat the purpose of retelling the 'facts'."
Youth glared at the big man until he finally shrugged and nodded for him to continue. After smoothing out his shirt indignantly, he did just that. "As I was saying, I never got the chance to ask that follow up cause Gerald was nothing but a stain on the floor. Somehow, something or someone had slipped right past us and murdered the guy in gruesome fashion without us hearing or seeing anything."
"No simple feat."
"Agreed. This led us to the conclusion that this entity had to be either really fast, super silent, or both. Maybe invisibility, some sort of polymorph ability. Either way, afterwards, Leandra paid us a house call. She was pretty clear that she wasn't pleased with our progress, and even gave us a threat if we didn't come up with answers soon. When pressed about Trea or some of her own people, she became quite heated that we would even insinuate, despite the possibilities pointing to an inside job."
"The ruse continues..."
"It would seem so. Regardless, we followed our intuition and went to the most likely source of information, which just so happened to also fit quite a bit on our list of abilities associated with these murders."
"I fucking hate sprites..."
"C'mon, man! They are kind of cute." After seeing he wouldn't get any further response from his partner he shrugged and carried on. "Anyways, through a little bribery and a whole lot of zone of truth mixed in with their meals, the sprite leader, Bolock, let us know that Trea wasn't a Pixie at all, but a Mim. A demon from the lower planes that gains it's power through the theft of other supernatural entities. Mimicking their capabilities. Huh...I never put those two together before now."
"What?" Press asked, eye cocked.
"Mim...Mimick. I guess that makes sense."
Press stared at his partner for a moment as one would stare at a pink zebra, but eventually rolled his eyes and toiled his finger so that he'd get on with it.
Youth, not appearing to appreciate how he had been regarded, sniffs the air a bit before continuing. "Anyways, so Trea had been trying to curry favor with folks in the Pixie communities before her big move against Leandra, but in the end it ended with Trea's failure."
"Or so she wanted everyone to think..."
"The best guess I have is that Leandra actually lost that challenge and Trea consumed her power, essentially turning herself into Leandra."
"So now she's eliminating both sides, slowly but surely tearing this tribe apart, and because she knew people would be upset about it she got us involved to take the blame."
"Her threat last time we spoke kind of sets that up perfectly. She continues to kill the fey, we take the fall, and in the end she gets to skin some Redeemer's alive to placate the rest of the supernatural populace." Youth pauses to think on it for a moment. "It's actually a brilliant plan."
Press curtly nods, jaw going tight and grim. "Only one caveat didn't play out to her specifications..."
"Oh?" Youth asks, perking up to hear the big man's gem of inspiration.
That grimness transforms into a grin on the big man's face as he turns towards his partner and levels him with a gaze. "The bitch didn't build a contingency for us figuring out her little secret."
"Actually," Youth responds sheepishly, hating to have to steal his buddies thunder, "She did."
Press looks crestfallen at having his Dirty Harry moment stolen, but curiosity gets the better of him as he holds at his hands in a 'What' gesture.
Youth snickers, shaking his head at the display as he turns to look out the passenger side window down towards the steps that would lead them to the tavern.
"She intentionally told us the entire plot so as to throw us off from her direction, which is a dangerous ploy as it can easily backfire. Case in point..." He focuses on the pathway seeing shadows creep from down below. "But she also knew that even if we did figure it out that we couldn't just come out and say it. No one here would believe us. They all think that she is Leandra and that Trea was defeated."
"Well...shit!" Press exclaimed, sinking in his seat slightly defeated. "What the hell are we doing here then?"
Youth took his eyes from the doorway and gave his partner a sly grin. "It was a real solid plan on her part, no doubt, but even she couldn't predict everything. Trea had no idea how connected we were with LoLo. She just thought we were some low level mercenaries bartered into service by a favor."
"Meaning?"
"I called the one person I knew could make those folks down there believe us. LoLo texted me about an hour ago that the plan is in place. No one from the pixie tribe is going to stand in our way towards Trea. Oh, and by the way...with Leandra dead, the enchantments around the bar no longer hold weight. We have a clear path of fire with no fear of our immortal souls being sucked into the void."
Press stared at his partner dumbfounded, wondering how the same man who couldn't put Mim & Mimick together could also be brilliant enough to formulate such a plan. After a moment, he realized that was a quandry that would never be answered, so he shrugged with a confident grin.
"Then let's get this party started!"
The two men exited the vehicle with gusto, heading around to the back of the car where they pop the trunk. Inside are a bevy of items ranging from modern day weaponry to herbs, spices, and spell components. Press reaches in and pulls forth a sawed off double barrel shotgun with a rune embedded on the handle. Youth raises an eyebrow at the display of firepower while pulling to small blades and a .38 Special from one of the bags. He affixes the blades into holsters at his side and tucks the .38 into his belt behind his back while still looking at the shotgun.
"Dude...don't you think that's a bit much."
Press looked down at his choice while also pulling out a Dessert Eagle, still in it's holster.
"Hey...we're walking into a denizen of evil!" he exclaimed.
Youth's eyebrow cocked to one side before he responded. "Uh...most of these folks are on our side now. That thing has a spread. Ever heard of friendly fire?"
He could tell by the way his partners jaw had suddenly gone rigid that this wasn't an argument he would win.
"I'm taking it."
"Fine!" Youth replied, exasperated, and the trunk slammed shut with a motion from his hand. "Shall we?"
The two men made their way towards the steps leading down to the tavern, and before they took the first one they could hear the faint sound of music echoing up from the chamber. They carefully made their way down to the bottom and Press wrapped on the large oak door three times. The viewing portal opened and the two yellow bulbous eyes of the Ogre they had met on their first venture to the tavern appeared. Upon seeing the two of them standing there, the eyes narrowed, but the door was swiftly unlocked and slowly creaked open.
Press held the shotgun down at his side and slightly behind his leg as they made their way through the archway. Inside the tavern was bustling with life. It was busier than last time they had been by, but more than that, almost every patron appeared to be Pixies. The entire tribe had turned out upon receiving news from LoLo it seemed. Regardless of that knowledge, being surrounded by this many denizens of the lower planes didn't do anything to alleviate their anxiety.
They quickly shuffled their way through the crowd towards the back of the room where the plush sitting tables were placed and the bar stretched out in front of them. Leandra/Trea was behind the bar when she noticed their approach, but that wasn't all she noticed. Her eyes drifted to the weaponry that they carried on their sides, and Press cursed a bit as they eventually found the shotgun he was trying to keep hidden.
She slowly made her way to the edge of the bar, bidding with her hand that everyone give her some room as she confronted the two Redeemers with suspicion.
"You two are heavily armed for a place that doesn't allow violence."
Press, seeing no reason to continue his deception, allowed the shotgun to dangle from his hand at his side and gave the woman a stern expression.
"Violence isn't always allowed, but sometimes it's necessary."
Her eyes flashed to the big man in threatening manner and Youth tensed, unable not to notice the ogre bouncer slowly slipping in behind Leandra to loom threateningly at them.
"Your words ring true. Fortunately for us, our violence is not measured by the spells that protect this place while yours does."
Press didn't flinch at the threat, instead choking up on the shotgun so that now his finger is on the trigger.
"Maybe, maybe not, Trea..."
Leandra didn't blink, but there was a brief moment of surprise in her eyes before they narrowed to slits. "You see friends, what did I tell you? These two are nothing more than hunters hell bent on bringing about our kinds destruction. They have no semblance of live and let live despite our innocence, and now they insult us with this ridiculous claim."
The Ogre can be heard growling behind her, moving a pace closer so that he's now directly at her back, nearly resting his massive head on top of her own. Press gave Youth an uncertain glance as if to ask if he's certain that these Pixie had received word from LoLo, but the expression he receives in response does nothing to settle his nerves.
At that moment, seeing his partners distress, Youth finally pipeed up. "The jig is up, Trea. We know what you did, and what you're doing. And so does everyone else..."
She let out a tinkling laugh that has no joy in it, dainty head lolling back so that her blue hair cascades down her shoulders. The back of her head bumps the ogre who she realizes now is standing dangerously close, and the laughter slowly faded. She stared up at the looming creature who is now looking down at her with a hateful grimace.
For a split second panic filled her features, her instinct to bolt, but before she can even take a step the ogres massive arms clamped down around her in a bear hug that lifted her a few feet off the ground. She cried out in pain, but it is momentary, as she closed her eyes and muttered something beneath her breath.
Seeing this, Youth lunged into action, one hand going for one of the daggers at his side while the other stretched out to try and cover Leandra/Trea's mouth. Unfortunately it's too late, and the spidery tendrils of magic filled the air. The Ogre holding her in place took in a few sniffs, a look of confusion coming over his face, and he suddenly released his grip allowing the woman to fall harmlessly to her feet. He took a few steps backwards as his eyes roll into the back of his head and with a whimper fell to his knees clutching his skull.
The rest of the Pixies called out in alarm and Press watched as the tiny contingent of Sprites they had met a few nights ago at the Santa Monica Pier buzzed into existence right in front of Trea. They zoomed through the air in a flying V attack pattern, but the woman threw out a hand, and instead of a whisper comes a roar of arcane energy that spurted forth like a bright flashing light. Press and Youth are both forced to hold their hands up to their eyes along with everyone else, but when they were able to blink away the affects they see that the Sprites are just drifting lazily in the air, their bulbous black eyes blinking stupidly.
Having seen enough of this display of power, Youth managed to grab hold of Trea's dress, but the dexterous Mim spun through the move sending him stumbling past. Press lifted his shotgun in her direction, ready to fire, when she pointed a finger directly at him and rattled out some gibberish. Youth watched as Press' eyes go wide with fear and he dropped the shotgun on the ground, turned, and bolted for the exit.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." he muttered while lunging forward with the dagger.
As if she had eyes in the back of her head, Trea spun once again at his attack, the iron blade passing dangerously close but not scoring a hit. With a sharp rise of her knee into his sternum, the combination of his momentum and the sudden strike nearly knocks the breath out of him, causing him to stumble back several steps, making a plain target.
Trea lifts her hand in his direction and shadows began to amass at its center as the words of magic continue to burst forth from her lips, but just as she's about to release the necrotic weave, she's pelted in the side of the head with a beer mug that breaks her concentration. Her head snaps in that direction with a snarl to see her goblin barmaids arming themselves with other improvised weapons from behind the bar. That isn't all, however, as her third eye catches movement on either side of her and behind her.
For a moment she's overwhelmed by the sensation, but she quickly pushed through it. Deciding that retreat would be the more sensible option, she closed her eyes and speaks a command, disappearing from sight as she went invisible.
The action, however, is a step too late.
With all of the distractions happening simultaneously her third eye failed to keep track of her intended target, which had recovered his breath and had moved in with another strike with his blade. The dagger sinks in deep, nearly to the hilt, wet black blood pouring out to hit the floor.
Youth is shoved backwards but he retained his grip on the knife which slides out of the fresh wound. Momentarily the space where Trea had been standing shifts, something unseen covering the wicked gash, but blood continues to flow, making it easy to mark her movements. Youth started to creep in again but is suddenly knocked aside as the denizens of The Basement Tavern converged on the hovering blood stains. Trea's cry for mercy went up into the air as claw, fist, and bone clamped down on her, bludgeoning her, until finally there was nothing left but silent and the heavy breathing of furious pixies.
With her death, the invisibility faded, as did the illusion perpetrated to make her appear like Leandra. Lying on the floor, body twisted beneath a pool of blood and flesh, lay a Mim demon. One of the goblin barmaids walked around the corner of the bar, tentatively giving Trea's jaw a shove with her boot.
When the body remained limp, she turned to Youth and said, "You should go. We'll clean up this mess."
He started to respond but just then Press came blustering back through the front door looking confused and ashamed. His face was flush, as if he had been running this entire time, and he had to place his hands on his knees. He sort of looked pitiful.
Through fits of breaths he did manage to look up and ask, "What happened?"
"She's dead," Youth replied.
"Oh..." That was all the big man could seem to muster as he lifted himself up and fell into the doorjamb for support.
Youth turned back to the rest of the Pixies to find them all giving him the same expectant stares. While appreciating their help in uncovering this deception by someone they had thought was one of their own, he could also see that this tribe had a lot of healing to do. Not only had they lost their leader, they had to contend with the fact that they had all bought into this new Leandra played by Trea, and possibly contributed to even more of the kin being killed. It was a hard pill to swallow, but betrayl often was.
With a curt nod, Youth turned towards the door to collect his still out of breath partner. As they made their way up the steps, Press confided in him he didn't know what happened. One minute he was ready to fire, the next he was terrified and compelled to flee. Youth patted the big man on the shoulder in understanding having recognized the Fear spell from previous fights with denizens of the underdark.
The drive home was a quiet one, both men contemplating tonight's events and what it meant. Their business here in Santa Monica for this portion of their lives was completed. They would both have their challenges in their other lives as wrestlers for IPW, but they had a much larger task still looming over their heads. Covid 19 be damned, they would need to head back to Vegas soon. Odin had given them a time table on locating his brother, Loki, and this little favor for LoLo had stolen precious time from that task.
It was an interesting turn of events really. This case had come to an end on this front, while on the other, they had put down yet another team of originals from IPW in Jason Dave & Scott Wilson. As with both circumstances the future was wide open and certainly with their own unique challenges, but one has to savor a victory as they stumble across them.
The two men sat in the 1966 Pontiac Tempest in the parking lot just outside of The Basement Tavern, an underground place where the supernatural could hang out in relative peace of old pact warfare or enemy status. There wasn't any hostilities allowed inside the establishment, and if one were foolish enough to do so, then there would be dire consequences. The proprietor, a winter fey known as Leandra, had went through back channels to gain their services in a disturbing case of murders within the Pixie community. The leads were slim at best, but the two men had followed a few to what they thought were dead ends, but when strung together blew the case wide open.
Youth looked over at his partner's statement, realizing that the big man intended for him to be the one to lay out the 'facts'. "So, a couple of months back there was a disruption in the leadership of this fey, and Leandra was challenged by her lover, Trea. Trea failed in the attempt, and was banished from the tribe. Soon after the fey realm in Santa Monica underwent a series of grisly murders, which had the locals up in arms to find the culprit. This forced Leandra to reach out to her contacts, specifically LoLo, who in turn conscripted us thanks to a favor we owed her."
"The suspects were pretty obvious from the jump." Press suddenly said, not so much interrupting as helping his brain navigate the pathways.
"Correct. After speaking with Leandra, she made it clear that she didn't believe that Trea was involved despite the circumstances of their separation. Matter of fact, she gave signs that the two were still in contact with one another."
"Which was a ruse..." Press added, eyes narrowing.
"Best as I can tell. We followed up on our leads which lead us to The Ice Castle where a Gnome named Gerald had set up shop. Through some intimidation, Gerald revealed he had backed Trea in her coup against Leandra. He also let us know that Trea had been the one kidnapping kids in and around the area, a trick she probably knew would always lead back to Gerald because of his parentage."
"Two more points against her. She has no problem killing, and she has no conscious in concern to who she's doing it to. Kids....that's fucked up."
Youth shudders in agreement but shakes his head clear to continue. "After we decided to let Gerald live, I went back to ask a follow up..."
"You went back for frozen yogurt!" Press exclaimed in accusation.
Youth drew back defensively. "YO! When you recount the facts you can tell it however you want!"
Press eyebrow arched as he crossed his arms over his chest and settled back in his seat. "That sort of seems to defeat the purpose of retelling the 'facts'."
Youth glared at the big man until he finally shrugged and nodded for him to continue. After smoothing out his shirt indignantly, he did just that. "As I was saying, I never got the chance to ask that follow up cause Gerald was nothing but a stain on the floor. Somehow, something or someone had slipped right past us and murdered the guy in gruesome fashion without us hearing or seeing anything."
"No simple feat."
"Agreed. This led us to the conclusion that this entity had to be either really fast, super silent, or both. Maybe invisibility, some sort of polymorph ability. Either way, afterwards, Leandra paid us a house call. She was pretty clear that she wasn't pleased with our progress, and even gave us a threat if we didn't come up with answers soon. When pressed about Trea or some of her own people, she became quite heated that we would even insinuate, despite the possibilities pointing to an inside job."
"The ruse continues..."
"It would seem so. Regardless, we followed our intuition and went to the most likely source of information, which just so happened to also fit quite a bit on our list of abilities associated with these murders."
"I fucking hate sprites..."
"C'mon, man! They are kind of cute." After seeing he wouldn't get any further response from his partner he shrugged and carried on. "Anyways, through a little bribery and a whole lot of zone of truth mixed in with their meals, the sprite leader, Bolock, let us know that Trea wasn't a Pixie at all, but a Mim. A demon from the lower planes that gains it's power through the theft of other supernatural entities. Mimicking their capabilities. Huh...I never put those two together before now."
"What?" Press asked, eye cocked.
"Mim...Mimick. I guess that makes sense."
Press stared at his partner for a moment as one would stare at a pink zebra, but eventually rolled his eyes and toiled his finger so that he'd get on with it.
Youth, not appearing to appreciate how he had been regarded, sniffs the air a bit before continuing. "Anyways, so Trea had been trying to curry favor with folks in the Pixie communities before her big move against Leandra, but in the end it ended with Trea's failure."
"Or so she wanted everyone to think..."
"The best guess I have is that Leandra actually lost that challenge and Trea consumed her power, essentially turning herself into Leandra."
"So now she's eliminating both sides, slowly but surely tearing this tribe apart, and because she knew people would be upset about it she got us involved to take the blame."
"Her threat last time we spoke kind of sets that up perfectly. She continues to kill the fey, we take the fall, and in the end she gets to skin some Redeemer's alive to placate the rest of the supernatural populace." Youth pauses to think on it for a moment. "It's actually a brilliant plan."
Press curtly nods, jaw going tight and grim. "Only one caveat didn't play out to her specifications..."
"Oh?" Youth asks, perking up to hear the big man's gem of inspiration.
That grimness transforms into a grin on the big man's face as he turns towards his partner and levels him with a gaze. "The bitch didn't build a contingency for us figuring out her little secret."
"Actually," Youth responds sheepishly, hating to have to steal his buddies thunder, "She did."
Press looks crestfallen at having his Dirty Harry moment stolen, but curiosity gets the better of him as he holds at his hands in a 'What' gesture.
Youth snickers, shaking his head at the display as he turns to look out the passenger side window down towards the steps that would lead them to the tavern.
"She intentionally told us the entire plot so as to throw us off from her direction, which is a dangerous ploy as it can easily backfire. Case in point..." He focuses on the pathway seeing shadows creep from down below. "But she also knew that even if we did figure it out that we couldn't just come out and say it. No one here would believe us. They all think that she is Leandra and that Trea was defeated."
"Well...shit!" Press exclaimed, sinking in his seat slightly defeated. "What the hell are we doing here then?"
Youth took his eyes from the doorway and gave his partner a sly grin. "It was a real solid plan on her part, no doubt, but even she couldn't predict everything. Trea had no idea how connected we were with LoLo. She just thought we were some low level mercenaries bartered into service by a favor."
"Meaning?"
"I called the one person I knew could make those folks down there believe us. LoLo texted me about an hour ago that the plan is in place. No one from the pixie tribe is going to stand in our way towards Trea. Oh, and by the way...with Leandra dead, the enchantments around the bar no longer hold weight. We have a clear path of fire with no fear of our immortal souls being sucked into the void."
Press stared at his partner dumbfounded, wondering how the same man who couldn't put Mim & Mimick together could also be brilliant enough to formulate such a plan. After a moment, he realized that was a quandry that would never be answered, so he shrugged with a confident grin.
"Then let's get this party started!"
The two men exited the vehicle with gusto, heading around to the back of the car where they pop the trunk. Inside are a bevy of items ranging from modern day weaponry to herbs, spices, and spell components. Press reaches in and pulls forth a sawed off double barrel shotgun with a rune embedded on the handle. Youth raises an eyebrow at the display of firepower while pulling to small blades and a .38 Special from one of the bags. He affixes the blades into holsters at his side and tucks the .38 into his belt behind his back while still looking at the shotgun.
"Dude...don't you think that's a bit much."
Press looked down at his choice while also pulling out a Dessert Eagle, still in it's holster.
"Hey...we're walking into a denizen of evil!" he exclaimed.
Youth's eyebrow cocked to one side before he responded. "Uh...most of these folks are on our side now. That thing has a spread. Ever heard of friendly fire?"
He could tell by the way his partners jaw had suddenly gone rigid that this wasn't an argument he would win.
"I'm taking it."
"Fine!" Youth replied, exasperated, and the trunk slammed shut with a motion from his hand. "Shall we?"
The two men made their way towards the steps leading down to the tavern, and before they took the first one they could hear the faint sound of music echoing up from the chamber. They carefully made their way down to the bottom and Press wrapped on the large oak door three times. The viewing portal opened and the two yellow bulbous eyes of the Ogre they had met on their first venture to the tavern appeared. Upon seeing the two of them standing there, the eyes narrowed, but the door was swiftly unlocked and slowly creaked open.
Press held the shotgun down at his side and slightly behind his leg as they made their way through the archway. Inside the tavern was bustling with life. It was busier than last time they had been by, but more than that, almost every patron appeared to be Pixies. The entire tribe had turned out upon receiving news from LoLo it seemed. Regardless of that knowledge, being surrounded by this many denizens of the lower planes didn't do anything to alleviate their anxiety.
They quickly shuffled their way through the crowd towards the back of the room where the plush sitting tables were placed and the bar stretched out in front of them. Leandra/Trea was behind the bar when she noticed their approach, but that wasn't all she noticed. Her eyes drifted to the weaponry that they carried on their sides, and Press cursed a bit as they eventually found the shotgun he was trying to keep hidden.
She slowly made her way to the edge of the bar, bidding with her hand that everyone give her some room as she confronted the two Redeemers with suspicion.
"You two are heavily armed for a place that doesn't allow violence."
Press, seeing no reason to continue his deception, allowed the shotgun to dangle from his hand at his side and gave the woman a stern expression.
"Violence isn't always allowed, but sometimes it's necessary."
Her eyes flashed to the big man in threatening manner and Youth tensed, unable not to notice the ogre bouncer slowly slipping in behind Leandra to loom threateningly at them.
"Your words ring true. Fortunately for us, our violence is not measured by the spells that protect this place while yours does."
Press didn't flinch at the threat, instead choking up on the shotgun so that now his finger is on the trigger.
"Maybe, maybe not, Trea..."
Leandra didn't blink, but there was a brief moment of surprise in her eyes before they narrowed to slits. "You see friends, what did I tell you? These two are nothing more than hunters hell bent on bringing about our kinds destruction. They have no semblance of live and let live despite our innocence, and now they insult us with this ridiculous claim."
The Ogre can be heard growling behind her, moving a pace closer so that he's now directly at her back, nearly resting his massive head on top of her own. Press gave Youth an uncertain glance as if to ask if he's certain that these Pixie had received word from LoLo, but the expression he receives in response does nothing to settle his nerves.
At that moment, seeing his partners distress, Youth finally pipeed up. "The jig is up, Trea. We know what you did, and what you're doing. And so does everyone else..."
She let out a tinkling laugh that has no joy in it, dainty head lolling back so that her blue hair cascades down her shoulders. The back of her head bumps the ogre who she realizes now is standing dangerously close, and the laughter slowly faded. She stared up at the looming creature who is now looking down at her with a hateful grimace.
For a split second panic filled her features, her instinct to bolt, but before she can even take a step the ogres massive arms clamped down around her in a bear hug that lifted her a few feet off the ground. She cried out in pain, but it is momentary, as she closed her eyes and muttered something beneath her breath.
Seeing this, Youth lunged into action, one hand going for one of the daggers at his side while the other stretched out to try and cover Leandra/Trea's mouth. Unfortunately it's too late, and the spidery tendrils of magic filled the air. The Ogre holding her in place took in a few sniffs, a look of confusion coming over his face, and he suddenly released his grip allowing the woman to fall harmlessly to her feet. He took a few steps backwards as his eyes roll into the back of his head and with a whimper fell to his knees clutching his skull.
The rest of the Pixies called out in alarm and Press watched as the tiny contingent of Sprites they had met a few nights ago at the Santa Monica Pier buzzed into existence right in front of Trea. They zoomed through the air in a flying V attack pattern, but the woman threw out a hand, and instead of a whisper comes a roar of arcane energy that spurted forth like a bright flashing light. Press and Youth are both forced to hold their hands up to their eyes along with everyone else, but when they were able to blink away the affects they see that the Sprites are just drifting lazily in the air, their bulbous black eyes blinking stupidly.
Having seen enough of this display of power, Youth managed to grab hold of Trea's dress, but the dexterous Mim spun through the move sending him stumbling past. Press lifted his shotgun in her direction, ready to fire, when she pointed a finger directly at him and rattled out some gibberish. Youth watched as Press' eyes go wide with fear and he dropped the shotgun on the ground, turned, and bolted for the exit.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." he muttered while lunging forward with the dagger.
As if she had eyes in the back of her head, Trea spun once again at his attack, the iron blade passing dangerously close but not scoring a hit. With a sharp rise of her knee into his sternum, the combination of his momentum and the sudden strike nearly knocks the breath out of him, causing him to stumble back several steps, making a plain target.
Trea lifts her hand in his direction and shadows began to amass at its center as the words of magic continue to burst forth from her lips, but just as she's about to release the necrotic weave, she's pelted in the side of the head with a beer mug that breaks her concentration. Her head snaps in that direction with a snarl to see her goblin barmaids arming themselves with other improvised weapons from behind the bar. That isn't all, however, as her third eye catches movement on either side of her and behind her.
For a moment she's overwhelmed by the sensation, but she quickly pushed through it. Deciding that retreat would be the more sensible option, she closed her eyes and speaks a command, disappearing from sight as she went invisible.
The action, however, is a step too late.
With all of the distractions happening simultaneously her third eye failed to keep track of her intended target, which had recovered his breath and had moved in with another strike with his blade. The dagger sinks in deep, nearly to the hilt, wet black blood pouring out to hit the floor.
Youth is shoved backwards but he retained his grip on the knife which slides out of the fresh wound. Momentarily the space where Trea had been standing shifts, something unseen covering the wicked gash, but blood continues to flow, making it easy to mark her movements. Youth started to creep in again but is suddenly knocked aside as the denizens of The Basement Tavern converged on the hovering blood stains. Trea's cry for mercy went up into the air as claw, fist, and bone clamped down on her, bludgeoning her, until finally there was nothing left but silent and the heavy breathing of furious pixies.
With her death, the invisibility faded, as did the illusion perpetrated to make her appear like Leandra. Lying on the floor, body twisted beneath a pool of blood and flesh, lay a Mim demon. One of the goblin barmaids walked around the corner of the bar, tentatively giving Trea's jaw a shove with her boot.
When the body remained limp, she turned to Youth and said, "You should go. We'll clean up this mess."
He started to respond but just then Press came blustering back through the front door looking confused and ashamed. His face was flush, as if he had been running this entire time, and he had to place his hands on his knees. He sort of looked pitiful.
Through fits of breaths he did manage to look up and ask, "What happened?"
"She's dead," Youth replied.
"Oh..." That was all the big man could seem to muster as he lifted himself up and fell into the doorjamb for support.
Youth turned back to the rest of the Pixies to find them all giving him the same expectant stares. While appreciating their help in uncovering this deception by someone they had thought was one of their own, he could also see that this tribe had a lot of healing to do. Not only had they lost their leader, they had to contend with the fact that they had all bought into this new Leandra played by Trea, and possibly contributed to even more of the kin being killed. It was a hard pill to swallow, but betrayl often was.
With a curt nod, Youth turned towards the door to collect his still out of breath partner. As they made their way up the steps, Press confided in him he didn't know what happened. One minute he was ready to fire, the next he was terrified and compelled to flee. Youth patted the big man on the shoulder in understanding having recognized the Fear spell from previous fights with denizens of the underdark.
The drive home was a quiet one, both men contemplating tonight's events and what it meant. Their business here in Santa Monica for this portion of their lives was completed. They would both have their challenges in their other lives as wrestlers for IPW, but they had a much larger task still looming over their heads. Covid 19 be damned, they would need to head back to Vegas soon. Odin had given them a time table on locating his brother, Loki, and this little favor for LoLo had stolen precious time from that task.
It was an interesting turn of events really. This case had come to an end on this front, while on the other, they had put down yet another team of originals from IPW in Jason Dave & Scott Wilson. As with both circumstances the future was wide open and certainly with their own unique challenges, but one has to savor a victory as they stumble across them.
*****THE END?*****
5/28/2020 [ON CAMERA]
MUNIN'S HOME
633 12th STREET, SANTA MONICA, CALIFORNIA
"My partner has a flair for the dramatic..."
He says this flat, devoid of emotion.
"Most people say he's the charismatic one. He's the wildcard, the guy with the personality, the goofball that makes everyone else look stupid with his quick wit and charm."
He sighs a bit, looking down at the floor before allowing those dark orbs to peak out from under his brow.
"They're probably right. It's not that big a sore spot with me. See, we've been at this for a long time. Twenty years or more and we've had a fair share of success in promotions far and wide. Me, I even had a successful singles run a couple years ago. Snagged some gold and held onto it for a long time."
He smirks at the thought of PAW which was so far behind him in the rear view.
"I never felt the compulsion to revisit all of that on camera. To drone on and on about my accomplishments in other promotions or my history before stepping foot into the new place. Our reputations may proceed us at times because of it, but we don't live rooted in the past. We embark in the present and look to the future. Essentially, every place we've ever gone, we create a new reputation."
The dark orbs find the camera once more, piercing through the lens at the audience.
"It's no different here in IPW. As many of these idiot main stays like to point out, we haven't been here for long. Yet in that short period of time our quartet has managed to completely decimate, dominate, and reshape the landscape. Sometimes kids, it isn't about how long you've been with the promotion, but the lasting impacts you create upon your arrival.
He snorts a little with a chuckle, shaking his head.
"That seems to escape you people. Stuck in your ways, tires spinning. I understand it. Seen it a thousand times. While Youth and I may not spout out our history and experience, it's there all the same. You folks used to be the stars of this place, taking your spots in the limelight and basking in your abilities and accomplishments. Then we showed up and took all those glittering jewels and revealed them to be nothing but fucking costume jewelry."
A grin emerges, white teeth glistening beneath skin colored lips.
"We've treated you people like jokes. We've brutalized you through backstage attacks and in ring debauchery. We have bathed in your blood, taken your spots and your championships, and done whatever we damn well pleased with only a monochrome of resistance. And while most of you have cried like babies about the outcome, tried to jump on the bandwagon of change as if you had a choice in the matter, or futilely stood in our way while we carved this path of destruction through your territory...there are those of you who have finally began to understand the notion of what we were trying to accomplish here."
He leans back on the stool, an expression of mild amusement stretching over his face.
"Vin Halsted and Enforcer. Unlike the wining of Jason Dave and Scott Wilson, you two took the direct route, and for that I can appreciate it. Respect?"
He grimaces a little, looking uncomfortable, while omitting a slight sound from deep in his throat that sounds like..."Ehhhhhh".
"Not quite yet. See, while I can appreciate the directness of your challenge to the titles, which my partner already accepted by the way, I can't fathom your approach. See, when I say that you two morons are worthless, washed up, soon to be made shit stains in the ring by The BombTrax, you are the ones that have to prove otherwise. Not us."
A twinkle enters his eye as the mirthless grin continues to beam.
"Unlike you two, who seem to think you are the most excellent of talents, I'm not saying all that because we believe that we are. Nah, we know exactly who we are, what we're capable of. We don't have to crow it to the masses, we just got to go out there and show them. And in this case, that is where history comes into play."
He shifts on the seat, letting one leg dangle lazily off the side to the floor.
"If you haven't noticed, we don't just walk into situations and announce our intentions. We employ a little thing called strategy. We know that there are more ways than words to issue a challenge, and that physicality can be one hell of a statement. By the time we're done fucking with you and you finally get your chance at retribution, you're so frazzled that you don't even know where to begin. And if you need proof, if I need to spell it out for you, look no further than Civil War Two."
He barks a laugh now up at the ceiling now, head tilted back, unable to hold back his howl. He's still amused when he drifts back towards the camera and its evident by the timber in his voice.
"Jason Dave & Scott Wilson were friends. They fought alongside each other, encouraged one another's career aspirations. Yet after just one tango with us, these guys completely fell apart. Wilson was always tactically pushed into the wrong position, and Jason Dave was prodded and provoked until he couldn't take it anymore. Now these two are going to be at each others throats, while we ride off into the sunset...Mission Accomplished."
The low rumbling chuckle he had while stating all of this slowly subsides, and he nods slightly before renewing his glare.
"So I guess, Enforcer, my question to you is...what makes you think that you and ole' Vin are any fucking different? What makes you two so special that our history here in IPW is about to be turned on its side? Do you believe the bond that you two have is anymore than me and Youth's? Have your failures as singles competitors finally stacked up enough that you realize you have better chances trying it together?"
Eyebrows arched, truly wishing to understand.
"Don't get me wrong, I've seen you out there Enforcer. You've wracked up an impressive amount of wins against the dredges of IPW. While you eeked out a career by staying at the bottom we waltzed into this place and took their Main Event. God damn, if this was a court room the prosecutor would fucking rest his case!"
Press holds up his hands, shaking his head 'No'.
"But we're not, and I'm not here to judge you for that. Every man has to choose his own path, and you have chosen to step into mine. So without crowing too loudly, without touting myself in a pathetic attempt to seem better than I am...let me just spell out what's about to happen come Chaos."
Press lifts his heavy frame from the stool and moves closer to the camera. For a moment the camera goes dark, a scratching sound being made as it's lifted in the air. It eventually comes to rest on the big man's face, the dark orbs from earlier returned with a dangerous stare.
"I'm going to come down to that ring with little fanfare and complete focus, and I'm going to bleed you until there's nothing left. And when you're laying there, face down, ass up, in a pool of your own fucking blood...."
The eyes intensify even more, all encompassing, all malice.
"I want you to think about what happens when a crow gets too close to the lion's den."
With that the view suddenly goes static. Fade to black.
