Hunter's Hunted

Gabriel turns the table on two would-be vampire kidnappers.


Paradise - East Sunset Road [#34]

So close to the southern edge of McCarran International Airport, planes can be heard taking off on the runways adjacent to East Sunset behind high fences. This must explain the prevalence of warehouses, storage facilities and other industrial complexes.
Here and there one will also find an auto parts store, garage, construction outfit and other commercial enterprises. Seeming acre after acre of asphalt mingles with a jumbled jungle of concrete and brick buildings as the industrial zone continues further down Bermuda Road. Here and there one can see signs of revitalization, especially as one approaches the 215 Beltway down south. Heavy industrial machines are parked across Pilot Road in a large fenced-in lot between crumbling brick edifices.

In the city of Las Vegas, where the population hardly ever takes to sleeping before the crack of dawn, there are constantly planes taking off and landing at the McCarran International Airport, which makes this part of town quite noisy from time to time. It's dark out, just past sun-down, but in Sin City that hardly ever means that there's no light. That doesn't hold true here. There are no neon signs advertising everything in a gaudy wash of colors. Most of the dim illumination comes from street-lamps, some of which haven't been maintananced well enough to even continue working. Occasionally, vehicles go by, mostly coming and going from the airport, but at this time of the evening, the thriving tourists are holed up in a casino or drunkenly wandering the strip.

What business might somebody have in Paradise at this time of night, you might wonder. The bars and hotels are for the most part ignored completely by the large man that slowly trails his way down along the streets. His face is obscured by a hoodie which stretches itself over his large frame, the shadows within illuminated slightly by the red cherry of a lit cigarette. Despite his casual walk, Gabriel seems to have somewhere in mind as he continues on his way.

For a time, things proceed as normally as they have, with the large man walking to whatever destination he might have in mind, and traffic ignoring him for the most part, either far too occupied with getting into this den of sin, or far too desperate to leave their guilt behind as they try and make a flight. However, one vehicle does pull off to the side. Not only does it pull off to the side, it comes to a slow roll about ten feet behind the lone man, never quite stopping - just inching along. Occasionally, broken glass or some other piece of garbage is crushed beneath one of the tires. The cab of the old, rusted van with the nasty blue paintjob is shadowed well enough, but from within, the cherried ember of a cigarette swells brighter as if on cue, revealing only the most vague hints of a black man's face.

<OOC> Gabriel says, "What kind of car is it? Any labels or noticable details Gabe might notice if he looked in a mirror/store window reflection?"

<OOC> Endymion says, "It's largely un-marked. An old chevrolet cargo van. There are no windows in the back at all, just the front. But yeah, he would hear it. It's creeping, but not really -hiding-. No details about it though. Crappy blue paintjob, and a lot of noticeable rust spots."

Gabriel continues to walk along the street as the vehicle coasts along behind him. Pulling his hands out of his pockets, Gabriel starts to slow down before coming to a complete stop. Standing still for roughly ten seconds, he takes in a deep breath and lets it out as the options run through his head. The man is a blur as he moves, crouching down before leaping back through the air and landing hard on the roof of the vehicle that's been trailing him.

While the man stands still, contemplating, the van continues to cruise forward in that same creeping fashion, two people staring out at him through the darkness of the interior. It's when he leaps onto the top of the vehicle that it comes to an abrupt stop. It rocks as two distinctly different voices come from within, one of them saying, "What the fuck was that?! I thought this chump was just a cut-and-run!". In response, the second voice says, "Fuck that. Let's gut this peckerwood. Just means we don't have to worry about hurting him too much..". Both of them step out of their respective sides, one black with dreadlocks that fall to about his waist, the other caucasian, with a short military cut to his blond hair. Both of them are wielding weapons, one a crowbar, the other a large and sharp-looking bowie knife. Already, they seem on the defensive.

Talk about underestimating your targets. Looking down at the two, Gabriel tilts his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. His thick Danish accent luls its way out and through the air. "Are you leeches or human?" He doesn't move quite yet, seemingly more interested in the temperature of the blood in their veins than the weapons in their hands.

The two men seem less interested in talking with Gabriel and more interested in getting him off of their van. Of course, they don't do it without a bit of dramatics, hoping perhaps to get some intimidation in. One of them, the black man with the dreadlocks bares a large, sharp pair of canine teeth, issuing forth a sound that's almost a hiss before hurling his crowbar upward and at the his intended victim, the steel bar twirling through the air with a preternatural speed. Almost as if he's hoping it will be a distraction, the white man with the knife grabs it between his teeth and makes a running leap to try and scramble up the side of the van.

Aha, preternaturabiliy. The wonderful nature of not having to hold back. If they thought Gabriel was human, they are sorely mistaken as the Beta of the Crazy Eight's jumps up into the air to avoid the blow of the steel bar and comes crashing down where the man's friend is trying to crawl up the side of the van. Gabriel is fast. Really fast. Some might say he's one of the fastest in Vegas, and it shows.

"Fuck, man!" comes the response from the black kidnapper as their victim manages to leap over the flung crowbar's graceful arc. He doesn't really waste much time in reaching behind his back and jerking at the handgun he keeps tucked into his waistband, but before he has even a moment to level the weapon, Gabriel is already landing on his partner, who is pushed off the side of the van and down to the ground with a snapping sound of something breaking. Landing on people - or at least creatures that look like them, is never graceful however, especially when the vampire begins to flail and hiss, reaching upward and raking with nails. The black vampire immediately begins to circle the van so as to gain a better vantage point.

Gabriel's teeth cringe as he feels those claws rake across his skin, but the man doesn't seem to be stopping. The glint of metal has him dropping to his knee, the bony joint aimed for the neck of the vampire beneath him as he slams down against the white vampire's face with a piston like fist. "You picked the wrong target, leech."

With a sickening crunch, the side of the vampire's face seems to give way and slightly cave in beneath the force of the large man's muscle. It slows him down, but only slightly. In a choked howl of pain, or at least frustration, he spits up a gout of blood that clearly didn't belong to him in the first place, and continues to claw at his target, flailing but largely pinned down. The black man with the dreadlocks comes around the side of the van then, leveling his pistol at Gabriel and snarling, "You're fuckin' dead, asshole!". With fangs bared, he snaps off a shot, but in his attempt to not finish off his own partner, his aim goes wild and he only grazes the arm of the Scandinavian, leaving a deep but superficial gash. At the sound of the small arms fire, traffic that had began to slow down a bit, immediately speeds back up.

As the bullet grazes his arm, the priority of Gabriel's targets change. A gun is no thing to scoff at, and the molten heat of a bullet is never a pleasant experience. Pressing down against the vampire beneath him, Gabriel catapults himself towards the black vampire with his hands outstretched. The man is a blur, barely trackable even by supernatural eyes as he aims to grab his assailant's wrist.

It's no secret that the black man doesn't seem to even be a match for Gabriel's speed and strength. For vampires, the pair of assailants don't exactly seem to know what they're doing - acting more like hired thugs from a gang than seasoned creatures of the night. His wrist is grabbed, and he immediately winds back with his free hand to toss a hard blow at his newfound captor. Slowly, as if he'd just had a rather large opponent crush in half of his face and possibly something in his chest, the other vampire makes an attempt at picking himself up off of the ground, shoving a hand around his backside as if reaching for something. The sound of metal sliding across asphalt can be heard.

As Gabriel grabs onto the black vampire's wrist, he twists and tugs to try and pull the man around between himself and the white vampire. That sloppily thrown punch is caught in his free hand and his deep voice rumbles in his throat. "Is it homocide to kill something thats already dead?"

"You won't be findin' out, homeboy!", the black man retorts, nostrils flaring in malice as he's flung about and positioned between Gabriel and his own partner. His mouth snaps open and he lunges forward as much as he can, sharp canines set to snap down on whatever piece of they can gain purchase in. Of course, he never makes it. The change in position is too fast, and the vampire on the ground isn't exactly in good enough shape for peak performance. Before he can stop himself from firing, he snaps a round off right into the backside of the black man, the caliber of the bullet powerful enough to go clean through and splatter the Scandinavian with more borrowed blood. The scent of it is offensive to smell. "Shit..", he mutters, as he drops his gun and crawls to his feet with all the speed of a cripple, as if he might begin to hobble away. The black vampire's new wound causes him to screech like a hellion and begin gnashing his fangs over and over, dangerously.

Gabriel barely avoids those fangs, their edges raking jagged lines across the flesh of his shoulder and sending the large man into a rage. Letting go of the man's wrists, he moves forward to grab him by the throat and groin to attempt to heft him into the air and chuck him at his fleeing friend. Vampire chucking. All the rage in New Zealand. "That is enough!"

The dark-skinned vampire doesn't go without a fight, and though he's lifted into the air, he puts forth every effort of resistance by kicking his legs and making himself into the most unwieldy projectile possible. He comes up just short of his partner, landing with a solid thud against the pavement and skidding to a halt, where he immediately begins an attempt at scrabbling to his feet so that he can follow suit with his fleeing co-kidnapper. The hobbling white vampire with the major injuries continues to scoot off at the fastest manageable speed, somewhere between a cripple's gait and a jog. At this point, neither of the 'predators' seem to be in the mood for a fight anymore, but some extra traffic begins to slow down again and take leery notice of what is happening.

<OOC> Gabriel says, "Is the car running?"

<OOC> Endymion says, "Yeah. The van is running."

Gabriel doesn't quite seem to be in the mood to let this go, and as they start to try to get away he bolts after them. The van is ignored for now, a mere hindrance long forgotten since the start of this little incident on the side of the street in Paradise. Even as Gabriel starts to run, the wounds along his flesh start to heal. Sadly, the rakes from the vampire's fangs seem to be closing at a snails pace.

It doesn't take but for the black vampire to glance over his shoulder and see Gabriel, before he picks up his pace, catching up to his partner. At first, it looks like he might shove the man forward, but then he lashes out with a kick and sends the injured, white blood-sucker down and sprawling, collapsed into a heap on the asphalt. Immediately, the dread-locked man changes direction in a sort of panick and heads right for the speeding sections of traffic in the distance.

Gabriel comes to a stop as the white man is crippled and sent to the ground, "Looks like you should choose your partners a bit more wisely." Reaching down, he makes an attempt to grab the white man by the neck and drag him back towards the running van. Better to question him and find the black man on his own time, than risk losing both on a chase through the city.

"You motherfucker!" the white vampire howls, as he's grabbed by the neck and dragged towards the van, his insult clearly hurled at the betrayal of the man that he'd been working with. It happens so fast that it's almost over before it even began - the black vampire hurtles himself out into the middle of traffic, not even realizing that Gabriel has given up the chase on him. It only takes on single misstep before a car cannot slam on the brakes fast enough, and the air is filled with the sounds of screaming pain and twisting metal. Traffic behind the accident manages to slide to a stop as well, some bumpers grating against tailgates and such. The white, severely injured vampire isn't smart, but he's clever and he's desperate. Unable to break the man's grip with struggling, he reaches out for the stopped vehicles, begging with them, "Help me! Call 9-1-1! This man is tryin' to murder me! He's a freak!".

Gabriel curls his fingers and send a quick and powerful jab towards the white vampire's wind pipe to collapse his throat, as he continues to drag him towards the van. Hopefully the collission will distract most of the people, but just in case Gabriel picks up his step and rushes to put the man away and out of sight inside of the van.

"He's a fuckin' freak! A kidnappin' fr—..", comes the pleading cry of the white vampire as he continues his smear-campaign on Gabriel. He's cut off before he can finish, wind-pipe collapsed by a powerful blow to the throat, and this seems to slump him over into a sort of passive acceptance of his fate - or maybe he's just been too bashed up to struggle anymore. Easily, he's dragged to the van and tossed into the back. Meanwhile, traffic seems to just keep piling up, with the closest people already getting out of their vehicles to figure out what is going on, their attention torn between the obliterated remains of the black vampire, and the newly-silenced white guy that is being shoved out of sight.

<OOC> Gabriel says, "Any way of driving away the opposite way of the traffic accident?"

<OOC> Endymion says, "You can try and cut across traffic. It's stopped going in one direction, because of the accident. So if you drive around that, you can hit the road going the opposite way."

Shoving the white vampire into the back of the van and makes sure to lock the doors in case his captive gets any funny ideas. "The way I see it, you've had yourself stabbed in the back. You can try to escape, die in the process, and get nothing out of this…or you can cooperate and maybe, just maybe, you'll…unlive to see another night." If the white vampire cooperates, Gabriel goes back to the driver's seat. If he doesn't the large man goes about systematically breaking limbs. Its his choice. Either way, whichever outcome may be, Gabriel works his way into he drivers seat and works on driving around the traffic so that he can start driving the opposite way of the jam.

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