2020-06-17 Burn Down Club Dante

Still Alive

Participants: Miette Minerva Imani Artaud

Storyteller: Arsenic (optional)

Location: Club Dante

Date and Time: June 17, 20- 10:00 pm

Summary: PUNK RAWK

The club is pitch black. There is no sound at all from the speakers as everything is waiting for showtime. Then, finally, a light comes on from above, illuminating that black moth-eaten curtain covering the stage.

Artaud for his part has entered into the area becuase he had somehow managed to read some of the posters, the man just sort of, milling about looking things over. He has never been to a concert before! He is excited! Or perhaps terrified. The curious Lupus looking things over, even with his hobo-chic look, he at least.. is grungy enough to fit in. Right? Right? Maybe not.

This is good. Miette likes the dark. She lounges back on one of the pews. For once it's dark enough for the girl to forego her sunglasses, and they are pushed up into her mussed hair. She is dressed for the night out. Heels, fishnets, a hand-me-down dress and a thrift store fur coat over arm-warmers that run from elbow to fingers, leaving the fingers uncovered. Heavy eyeliner and her septum piercing finishes the outfit for tonight. She's in a mood, and her deep brown eyes move slowly over the outline of the crowd in the darkness.

The sound of an African drum is starting now. Then, with a primal beat, BOOM BOOM BOOM. Each hit is slow and steady then the funky bass sound fills the room as someone starts to go to funky town. Mo-Town is alive tonight, mixing with that drum as a voice rings out with a sneer into a mic. "Welcome.....To......My...Fever dream mother fuckers!" The sound of a crunchy, heavy guitar starts to riff as the curtain comes down.

On the stage is a gang of black punks, the one in the lead is snarl out into the crowd with his long dreads whipping around as he starts to punk his right fist in the air, as he sneers and snarls with the sound of guttural rage. "I'm fucking Arsenic. This we are the Mother Fucking SCREAMING SQUEAKERS!" With that, he launches himself forward in a flurry of body actions. His chest is a dark painting of flesh covered in ink and scars and a few bullet holes as he points to his right to the gothic-looking black woman, as he starts to chant. "THUNDER IS BRING YA THE FUCKING FUNKY! From that motor fucking city, that shit hole, that crash land. DETROIT!"

As he calls out her name, the rest of the band falls silent as she starts to launch into a long blues song with that beat of years gone by, from when Detroit was more than just a shithole. Arsenic grins at her as he rips the mic off the stand in a quick motion, wrapping it around his right arm as he sneers out at the crowd, starting to dance quickly along the stage now, to it doing a disco dancing ala Saturday night fever, he stops with a wicked chuckle as the baseline dies.

Artaud for his part just kind of looks up with a sort of bewildered expression on his face. His eyes widening at the sounds and well, screaming! This isn't any sorto f music the poor lupus is familiar with. His eyes widen as he moves to stand back then, taking a few steps to look around the rest of the room, then back to the man before him. Artaud is bewildered, there is no other way around it. He keeps his eyes adverted on the ground, wincing at times as he listens to what is going on then.. clearly uncertain.

Miette blinks. The girl reclines on the pew a bit and watches the crowd. It isn't type of music, but she LOOKS like she should be enjoying it, by her outfit. SO, she enjoys it. She grins softly, nodding her head a bit to the beat...while her brown eyes move over the crowd, taking in those nearest to her.

As the music dies down, he walks over to the drummer to lean against him, a prominent African man dressed in tribal robes with a giant wooden mask. "Deep in the land of war and strife, from the deepest heart of the land of bullets and lions." As Arsenic leans, the man starts to beat the drum with quick-rolling fingers. "Comes to you Bloody FUcking STUMP! Straight out of CAPE TOWN. IT BEATS LIKE HIS LIFE IS ENDING! BRING IT ALL FOR YOU, MOTHER FUCKERS!" The beat is picking up now, as the singer starts to stride Mic Jagger style-forward his arms out to the side, as he snarls into the mic.

"Now, I ain't got much to say about the last mother fucker." The music drops down once more. It is silent as the grave on the stage now, as the Black Man in the fancy suit with the Mohawk glares at Arsenic with his ax is high over his head. "THIS MOTHER FUCKER RIGHT HERE HE DON'T TALK MUCH! GROW UP WITH THE FUCKER! HE IS PAIN BRINGER!" With that, he launches into a heavy punk guitar rift, coating the fucking room with nothing but rage! He is losing himself in the music, starting to move with pure passion as both guitars now fill the room with heavy riffs and hatred flowing from the stage. Both of the Guitars Painbringer and Arsenic, battling with quick fingers hitting the strings, trying to outplay each other as he screams now into the crowd at some point. He wrapped the mic around his throat, aimed upward, sitting on his chest. "THIS FIRST SONG IS BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS! SING THE FUCK ALONG IF YA FUCKING WANNA!"

iT isn't the message that is perplexing Artaud, if he could actually concentrate enough to understand it, he would probably fully agree! it is the method of communication. THe man's hands finally moving up to cover at his ears then with a wince and a slight worried expression then. He continues to look up with a worry but tries to be a good trooper about it all. He.. probably stands out now. naive lupus that he is.

Miette flashes a young punk a smile, and she reaches out with her God given supernatural charm. She ends up wrapped around her finger, along with her boyfriend. Soon enough, both are sitting beside Miette. The girlfriend has her arm around Miette's shoulder, and the boyfriend has his arm around his girls. They lean into each other as they nod along with the music.

"FUCK YOU! WHAT DO YOU SAY! The WORLD WANTS US TO OBEY!" FUCK THEM! THEY ARE NOT OUR MASTERS! SHATTER THE CHAINS! FREE THE MASSES! WE WILL POUR FROM OUR HOLES! OVERWHELMING! BURNING! KILLING! BRING THEM TO THEIR KNEES! " A howl of music of rage coming out aimed straight into the crowd, as he starts to pace forward Aresenic's throwing his middle finger up into the air, as he slams his right foot down. There is no music for the opening verse, but the moment knees is screaming. An eruption of music and chaos erupts behind him as the band starts to play. It is an odd clashing of sounds. The African drum, mixed with that soul-filled bass, but those two guitars are nothing but pure fucking rage. The voice is screaming out once more to deliver the next verse.

"GUILTONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! GUILTONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! GUILTONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! That is the answer! that is the solution!"

The band is throwing themselves into the chaos of the song now. The singer is whipping his dreads around him as he leaps into the air with a wicked snarl. As he starts to throw up his middle fingers mid-spin, as he lands with a solid bang that fills the club, as he strides forward, now aiming his mic outwards.

"GUILTONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! HEADS WILL ROLL!"

As he screams this, he starts to motion for voices to follow up with him, his left hand moving in a flurry of motion as he grins out at the crowd. As he urges them to chant with him as he takes that Gultine line from the top once more, he does it three times with equal levels of rage each time, a few people starting to chant with the singer into that mic offered towards them.

Imani was checking out some local talent, she lingers in the back against the wall. She hmms softly, watching the stage presence, studying the movements of each of the band members with her arms lightly folded in front of her. She might stick out, given she is just wearing jeans and a nice blouse with a pair of low heels. She laughs softly as the song begins, standing to just listen and watch, her eyebrows raising up a touch.

Is again just holding his ears closed, or trying to, his hands againsth is head as he closes his eyes and slowly starts to back away. It is an awkward process trying to push through the crowd, but this is perhaps a bit much for a man's first ever concert no doubt! So off he goes! Away from all the scary humans and sounds. Miette is lounging back on one of the pews, with a male and female punk leaning against her. They're all nodding to the music as Miette idly flirts with the both of them, a hint of mischief in her eyes. She glances up at the stage now and again, but mainly seems interested in the two sna-...people she's cuddling up to!

The music stops now; his right hand is held high as he starts to wrap the mic around his neck once more, holding it up as if he is hanging. His voice is whispers softly into the mic. "When you are gone! We Can DREAM AGAIN! WHEN YOUR HEAD IS GONE! WE CAN LIVE AGAIN! BLOOD SPILLED! BLOOD SPLATTERED! OUR FREEDOM IS NOW!" With each line, the whisper gets more guttural, more driven as he repeats it over and over. Finally, he starts to choke himself with the mic, yanking it high above him as he whispers it one last time. His tongue is hanging from his mouth. He rocks back and forth in the quiet of the stage as if he got lynched. The band starts to clap now, making the next beat for the next song, as he swings and sways back and forth. His eyes closed so tightly, looking like a corpse.

The pause in the music has Artaud consider then as he looks aside then and back. His hands come off his ears then as he seems almost ready to listen then. Perhaps it wouldn't be THAT scary to be here in the punk place! But ARtaud clearly is near the door, sort of hesitant. About to leave. He can at least say he had gone to a concert right? Even if it was a scary, loud one with screaming and blood and like.. loud sounds. Other people seemed to enjoy it. Maybe he'll pretend he loved it and uh, had to dip! Yah thats it!

Minerva makes her way in, pausing to talk to one of the employee's at the bar (well, scream into each-other's ears) Rather than try and see anything from the back of the crowd she starts to head for the stairs to the upper floor, but notes Artaud with his hands over his ears, and she approaches gently and puts a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

Painbringer walks over to the mic that the singer is hanging from to lean over into it, whispering the next song's title. "OUR WORLD! OUR WAY!" Arsenic is still hanging there with that mic above his head, as he starts to kick his legs now, as he leaps forward now untangling the mic quickly, as he starts to pace back and forth with that manic energy once a man on way too many drugs or that stage can be brought out. As he begins to scream, that band joining in this one is nothing but rage. Everything is the rage that funk is fast, the drum beating primal as a shooting.

"OUR WORLD! OUR WAY! GET THE FUCK OUTTA THE WAY! WE SEE YOU IN THE DARK! STEALING IT ALL! HIDING IT ALL AWAY! WE SMELL THE CHEESE! WE KNOW YOU'RE A FIEND! DIRTY THANGS DONE IN THE DARK!"

He starts to thrash once more. As his right-hand starts hitting his skull with the mic, that beat fills the club as he screams loud enough to carry without it as he snarls at each person, making eye contact.

"ONCE I TRUSTED YOU! I THOUGHT YOU HAD OUR BEST AT HEART! ONCE I SAW YOU AS A SYMBOL OF FREEDOM AND POSH! BUT YOU HAVE BEEN EXPOSED! WITH YOUR GREED! YOUR DESIRE TO PUNISH THE WEAK! IN YOUR ARROGANCE AND IGGORANCE!"

Imani blinks a bit at the words spoken, hmming softly to herself. Some in the crowd my recognize her if their parents where fans of disco. She remains there though just listening and possibly judging. She finally receives her drink, a plastic cup filled with red wine which she lightly sips on. Her eyes flit to Artaud, looking worried for him as he keeps his ears covered, concerts can indeed be loud as hell, why most people have to go outside to chat after all.

Oooh, Minerva. Miette briefly loses her interest in the punk couple she's working on, and focuses on her instead. Her brown eyes dip curiously, before she slips a piece of paper into the punk girl's hand and kisses her cheek. Her phone number. She then rises to her feet, rising to a good 6'1" in her heels. She makes her way trough the crowd, focused on Minerva...and Artaud by extension.

"What? What? WHAT?" ARtaud offers then aloud then as he glances aside, his hands going straight to his ears then as he lcoses his eyes slightly as he tries not to focus on anything in particular. Trying very hard to blot out all the sounds and sights, but he'll look up at the stage every so often, in confusion. He'll shake his head then as he mumbles something under his breath. The concert is intense for sure, but now theres someone between him and the door.

"DOING IT MY WAY! FINDING IT MY WAY! LIVING MY WAY! FUCK THE REST! WORK FOR THE MAN! BLEED LIKE THE REST! NEVER FINDING HOPE IN THE WORLD OF WEALTH! ONE BILL AWAY FROM IT ALL CRUMBLING AWAY! I DO IT MY WAY! I DO IT RAW!"

The voice is howls out as the singer grabs that mic throwing it forward into the screaming crowd, hoping someone picks it up. The center of the pit is coming through the speakers now, the sound of bodies bashing into each other. The drums are beating quicker, that bass trying to urge it on pushing it quicker, more primal mixing with each other. The guitars are still filling the world with nothing but rage as he snarls down at the pit.

"BREAKING OUR CHAINS! BREAKING OUR BONES! YOUR LIES YOUR DESIRES FOR MY SOUL! TO BE ONE OF THE ELITE CAME OUT IN A ROAR! SO FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! RIGHT IN YOUR MANSION! BUILT ON DREAMS AND BLOOD!"

As the pit is erupting into massive roar into that mic, as they are slamming and pogoing, doing what punks do best fuck shit up!

" DOING IT MY WAY! FINDING IT MY WAY! LIVING MY WAY! FUCK THE REST! WORK FOR THE MAN! BLEED LIKE THE REST! NEVER FINDING HOPE IN THE WORLD OF WEALTH! ONE BILL AWAY FROM IT ALL CRUMBLING AWAY! I DO IT MY WAY! I DO IT RAW!"

As he screams the last line, Arensic's hand is reaching down for the cord as he yanks it out of the pit, watching it sail upwards as he reaches up to grab it as the instruments going wild now, everything is chaos it is no longer music, but the essence of rage and hate.

"BARK LIKE THE DYING DOGGO THAT YOU ARE!"

Minerva gets a slight 'oh shit' look on her face, her hand coming out of her purse with a packet of ear plugs (she's been to concerts before, obviously) but realizing that probably won't do enough. She shifts to the side so she is no longer in his way and gently presses Artaud in the direction of the exit to the lobby. Even so, her body rocks a little bit to the sound of the music.

Miette slows as she sees Minerva began to head off with the man, and she stops. She growls a bit to herself and glances back at the pew, only to find that her 'friends' have already gotten up and moved on. The girl stamps a heel in annoyance and brushes her fingers back through her blonde hair.

Artaud, almost feels like he is being attackedn ow at this point as he looks up on stage, almost confused. It is hard to ignore the sounds at this point, even through his hands on his ears. But he is being ushered out then as quickly as can be, and Artaud is soon far enough outside to breath a sigh of relief, even as he stares at the scene from afar, perhaps peering trhough the door, angling his head slightly then. "J-just going to head out now yes? Was interesting experience? Have fun here! Yes!" He'll offer then to Minerva, "Go in, say hellO! meet friends! Make friends. Going. Leaving. Will see later."

Imani looks a bit surprised at the lyrics, clearing judging, unsure how she feels about it. She winces at the chaos of noise and lack of melody, her nose furrowing a bit before she drinks her wine a bit more. She begins to slowly make her way towards the lobby as well. This really definently isn't her scene, she sighs a bit sadly while lightly shaking her head.

After five minutes of that heavy rage-inducing music, the band stops playing again, as the singer grins with a wicked little chuckle. "Now, friends, I think we are friends now. We have gotten outraged together. We have bonded over blood spilled and broken ribs. That makes us fucking family. It is time to say bye-bye-bye. I know, I know, very fucking sad. I shall miss you." A roar of displeasure erupts from the audience as he shakes one finger at them, shockingly not the middle one. "But, before we go, I have someone to tell you all about. He is just a fucking CUNT IN A SUIT!"

The music is fast pace, danceable hardcore beat now, it is ska beat on the drums, and the bass but only one guitar now as Arsenic is not playing, just leering forward as it all mixes, as he starts to tango on the stage with himself. He screams out the lyrics as he twists and turns, wrapping himself up with the mic as he starts to move quicker and quicker.

" YOU WALK AROUND NOSE IN THE AIR! THAT NOSE IS TOUCHING THE AIR! YOU NEVER LOOK DOWN! UNLESS IT'S TO REMIND US HOW HIGH YA BE! YOU GOT IT ALL! YOU TELL US ALL!"

THe band starts to kick at the ground, as the drum begins to clap, now urging those watching to beat with him, as he drops his African drum. The beat is that of a wild tango, mixed into the other chaos of the music.

Minerva makes sure that Artaud gets back into the lobby, where he won't be overwhelmed, but her concern for him is not so great that she feels the need to miss the rest of the concert, no. She does rush back in, just in time for the music to sweep up into something with a beat. No way is she joining the mosh pit, but she moves towards the back of the dance floor, flailing enthusiastically if not particularly skillfully.

Will take his leave then, moving to step away, after listening, content to make his way out of the scary place. Artaud is back on the prowl to explore! Imani is growing closer to the lobby doors, she lightly shakes her head at the comment about being family. But every artist has their own flare, hers was just very different in her hayday but different times and genres call for different things of course. She is soon following Artaud out to the lobby as well.

"WE ARE LIVING IN SQUALLER! ONE MEAL A DAY! IF WE ARE LUCKY! FANCY-FREE! NO RESPONSIBILITY! GOT NOTHING TO DO BUT ENJOY THIS WORLD. I GOT THE WORLD AT MY HEELS! SEEING IT ALL! I WON'T MISS A SINGLE MOMENT OF THIS! REAL-LIFE IS MINE! FICTION IS YOURS!"

That mic is now wrapped all around him like a spider web that he is struggling to break out of, as he wiggles around, falling now as he rolls around on the stage wrapped in cord, as he screams out the following lyrics.

" YOU WALK AROUND NOSE IN THE AIR! THAT NOSE IS TOUCHING THE AIR! YOU NEVER LOOK DOWN! UNLESS IT'S TO REMIND US HOW HIGH YA BE! YOU GOT IT ALL! YOU TELL US ALL!"

Ah, she's back. Miette grins a bit to herself as she hones in on Minerva again. She sways a bit to the angry music as she cruises towards her like a shark through the tide. She pops up beside her, looking down at her and flashing a grin. "Dance with me?," she yells out at her over the music, barely able to be heard. Her accent is midwestern.

He stops now as the music dies with an abrupt stop, the last cords filling the club, as the rest of the band starts to clap now. As Arsenic whispers into that mic, as he struggles to stand, he begins to untangle himself as if he is a butterfly coming out of a cocoon.

"Have you ever suffered, have you ever seen the darkness? Ever felt that boot on your throat, knowing the world is out to getcha. Ever seen the look of hate and fear when you cross the street. Ever been thrown on a hood for looking wrong. The world is not the same for you and me. But, doubt you get it once again." As he whispers it, the cord is now beside him as he throws his hands upwards, starting to clap, as he leans forward leaning over the mosh pit.

"Cameras aimed, hate plays. The nightly news, telling me I'm a sinner. White folk is clutching their coaches. Knowing, I'm out here trying to be no good. Rep, is all I got, and what I got ain't good broken down, breaking around, trying to find my way home. But home is gone, last in the time, spent crying and dying. My brother locked up. My sisters are in the wind. We got nothing left for us to shout about. Blood on the streets, that's how you know it's our home. Killing, thieving, what more do we do. Cause, when we try to be more, that boot is on our neck again! We are here, don't look away. The homeless youth, with hell to pay!" Minerva looks surprised as she's approached, and her smile is bright. "Is this really 'with' music?" she asks, and yes, she's used to loud concerts because she pumps that volume from her diaphragm. "I think it's more 'near' music, but okay!" And then the beat stops and she turns her attention to the band as the music becomes just the singer holding the audience in his hand.

Imani makes her exit as she briefly watches Minerva get approach and then out to the lobby she goes and more than likely, back to her own club.

"YOU WALK AROUND NOSE IN THE AIR! THAT NOSE IS TOUCHING THE AIR! YOU NEVER LOOK DOWN! UNLESS IT'S TO REMIND US HOW HIGH YA BE! YOU GOT IT ALL! YOU TELL US ALL! BUT WHAT CAN WE DO.......WHAT CAN WE DO................but die alone in the dark. In our cage." As he finishes now, he flips off the crowd as he leaps off the stage, heading right for the bar. The rest of the band following quickly, as they all need to get their free drinks on quick as a whip. "WE ARE MOTHERFUCKING, The screaming squeakers! THANK YOU, MOTHER FUCKERS, FOR FUCKING WATCHING!" With that, he is downing the first beer in a long gulp as he sets it back down, starting to hand beers to anyone around him that is in handing distance. "DRINK EM UP!"

Miette laughs. "Close enough." She turns to watch the singer as the music itself stops. She notices something about Minerva, though, and her gaze drops to her back. When the music stops she grins a bit and looks back to Minerva. "Damn, looks like we lost our chance. Well...buy you a drink?", she asks, smiling down at her.