2020-07-23 Blood Spilled at Sprawl

Fuck you

Participants: Sveta Rochelle Minerva Serena Ezekiel Sid

Storyteller: Arsenic

Location: The Sprawl

Date and Time: 07 23, 2020- 11:00 pm

Summary: Music time!

The club is illuminated in a crimson light. 4 Figures are standing on the stage hidden due to the pulsing of the lights. Each of them moves back and forth, swaying to a primal African drum beating with passion. The lights shine so brightly there is no way to see them, the man with the mic screams into it. "WELCOME TO THE FREAK SHOW, MOTHER FUCKERS!"

Rochelle had penciled the concert into her schedule. It was the only way to be certain there was time for it. She was looking forward to seeing Arsenic play, and be able to let loose a little. Her hair is left down tonight and she's wearing a pair of faded blue, ripped jeans, with a black graphic tee that hangs off one shoulder with an abstract, but also faded, design on the front. She up near the front and center, letting out a cheer with the others near her as the introduction is screamed.

Sid is here, because of fucking course she is. It's a concert. It's vaguely undergroundish. She's hanging out in whatever crowd there is near the back. The woman is dressed for the show with a black band t-shirt emblazoned with 'FUCKnuggets', a black cargo skirt that's not knee length, and enough fishnets to feed a small village. "Wooo!" She shouts towards the stage, raising a fist for a moment.

Of course Rena is here. Over in the corner in her leather pants and band tee shirt for an entirely different band called 'Our Tired, Our Poor, Our Huddled Masses', you may have actually head of them, they are actually pretty good. But as Arsenic starts, she cups her hands to her mouth and shouts. "Play Freebird!"

"Blood.....guts......fear......hatred.......the world wants you dead!! FUCK DAR FREEBIRD SHIT! IT'S FUCKING WHITE FOLK SHIT. WE AINT' WHITE MOTHER FUCKAH!"

On the stage is a gang of African-American 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 an extended funk song with that beat of years gone by, from when Detroit was more than just a shithole. When fast cars, loose women had the attention of the world. 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.

Minerva makes her way in with Ezekiel, eyes bright as she looks around the place. Is this music intended for her? No, no it is not. Is she going to be okay with it, yes, yes she is. Once in, yells up "Front or back!" to her companion, in that way you do at a loud concert, you know, private yelling, and then once he answers starts trying to create a path in that direction. She beams.

Tonight, Ezekiel is wearing his customary black T-shirt with a KMFDM logo, pants, boots, and an underlying fishnet. As he walks in with Minerva, an arm curls around her, keeping her close in the crowd. When she leans into a private yell, Ezekiel leans in himself, shouting privately. "Back." He says with a hook of his thumb. The man does take a look around, though, attention moving towards the stage.

As the music dies down, he walks over to the drummer to lean against him, a prominent African man dressed in a suit with lions and tigers etched into the pattern. "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 kick at the stage, matching the drums. His hair is flying around him, those dreads in chaos of motion matching that hate-filled beat..

"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. "We all got dreams, we all got hopes. But what if we are selfish twat, mother fucker. SPACE BOI!"

Is this Rochelle's typical music? Not really, but she's vibing with it all the same. Shouts, screams, cheers, jumping and dancing with the crowd. It's all just kind of kickass and great in her opinion. Maybe it's just nice to be doing something 'wild' on her own accord instead of doing to because her boss volunteered her for it.

Sid is clearly enjoying the music and the scene. She's near the back of the crowd, bobbing to the music, making a remarkable show of it despite wearing impractically high-heeled boots. "Burn it down!" She shouts towards the stage before she lets her eyes scan the crowd, trying to pick out any interesting tidbits amidst the mass of no-doubt unwashed flesh around her.

Rena nods her head a little hmming a bit. "I like the beat but he needs to learn to use his words..." Big grin though, she still looks like she is having fun, grinnign wide. Then, hey! Is that... "CRAPPY DRIVER LADY!" She lets out, pushing her way through the crowd towards Rochelle. Literally. She may look slight, but the tattooed bitch does play Derby Blocker.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY, AND I'LL FUCKIGN STOP! THE WAR IS COMING FOR YOU! THE WEALTHY ARE STEALING! BLAST TO SPACE! THEY DESTROYED OUR HOME! THEY ABANDON US IN A WORLD OF PAIN! SLAVE ON MARS! SLAVES ON MARS! TOIL SO THEY CAN ENJOY IT ALL! "The music is fast coming out of his guitar. The bass sounds dream as if one is drifting through the void. The lights are turning into millions of tiny white lights casting over the band. It sounds like David bowie snorting crack, with eight speedballs in him. The crimson lights are blinking like a fast strobe, casting long shadows. As the band space jumps like they got fucking moonshoes.

" MOTHER FUCKERS GETTING RICH! TAKING TRIPS ON YOUR BLOOD! LEFT TO DIE! LEFT TO BLEED! BLOODSUCKING FREAKS! TAKING TRIPS ON YOUR DIME!"

Sitting atop the spectator's scaffolding is a dour looking Eastern European woman. She's smoking a Marlboro 100, her eyes hidden behind a pair of novelty florescent-neon framed sunglasses promoting a movie that came out a decade prior, its logo long-ago faded into obscurity. Perhaps she's been here since the start of the show, or perhaps she's simply sat up from a deep recline on one of the salvaged couches, but in the ebbs and flows of the pumping music, it's hard to really keep track of arrivals and departures. Her foot taps along to the rapid beat of the rabid frontman and his crew, despite her face remaining impassive and unweighted.

Minerva stays in close against Ezekiel, though she is by nature and by situation, bouncy. It's clear she is trying not to jostle Ezekiel too violently. There's a howl of appreciation in particular when Thunder is introduced, someone has a fangirl. She goes up onto her toes to try and get to Ezekiel's ear, "You should get them back to the club!" and then looks around at the crowd while her fingers toy with the belt loop at her companion's waist.

The music is starting to slow down as the singer walks up to the edge of the stage. His voice is a whisper of pure hate like he is telling you such dirty secrets.

"We allowed them to steal, to cheat, to lie. We told them they mattered more. In the end, we built our graves for the sake of greed and thirst. We are hungry for justice. We fill our heads with the lost American dream."

The lights turning into crimson lights that swirl around the band as they are playing quicker once more. The sound of a countdown mixed into the beat, as it comes out with a metallic sound, like a robot.

" Built on blood-stained packages! Built on blood-stained packages! EASE INTO YOUR SLAVERY! ONE CLICK AWAY FROM GIVING IT ALL AWAY! NEVER PEE! NEVER BREATH! BUT RIGHT TO YOUR DOORSTOP!"

Nobody seems to be bothering Sid and she doesn't seem to mind. Win win for everyone! She might as well just be a face in the crowd, though she's managed to move so Wait. What? Surely no one all the way over here on this side of town could possibly know her. But 'Crappy Driver Lady' rings pretty damn clear to Rochelle even over the music. She turns her head and sees a woman coming right towards her. That she vaguely recognizes. Oh shit. "I wasn't *that* bad!" Rochelle insisted anyway as Serena came closer. She remembers her as the one that got severely flung from a car but that's about it. There had been a lot happening.

A package is lifting high into the air over Arsenic's hand as he starts to open it quickly. It is an amazon package. In the center of it is a severed heart that he tilts to show the audience. It is medical real, as it beats quickly with blood spurting out of it covered the singer's face and chest in its crimson glory. He screams out the following line. Blood splattering his face and chest.

"MOTHER FUCKERS GETTING RICH! TAKING TRIPS ON YOUR BLOOD! LEFT TO DIE! LEFT TO BLEED! BLOODSUCKING FREAKS! TAKING TRIPS ON YOUR DIM"

Launches that bloodily package into the crowd where it splatters in the center of the pit. The blood erupts into the air as the heart blows up, covering the stage and those close to the stage in crimson gore.

The music starts to slow down to the beating of a heart as the singer looks out over the gore-stained crowd as he starts to whisper.

"There is nothing left for us to bleed. Our world is done; they are gone.....still we bleed forevermore. Smug smiles are watching as we die....in their hubris of the American dream!"

There are more heart packages soaring out into the crowd. They had been lined up on the side of the stage. Each of them with beating hearts and dripping blood, Arsenic is kicking them off the stage with his foot, soaring them throughout the club.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY, AND I'LL FUCKIGN STOP! THE WAR IS COMING FOR YOU! THE WEALTHY ARE STEALING! BLAST TO SPACE! THEY DESTROYED OUR HOME! THEY ABANDON US IN A WORLD OF PAIN!"

As his companion bounces and jumps around, Ezekiel just smiles toothily. Ezekiel's focus is on the stage, his head bobbing to the music some, even he's getting into it. At Minerva's words? He nods, and leans in again. "Yeah, I think so too." He keeps it short, prolonged conversation at this volume is near impossible.

Almost impaled by the self impaler is more accurate, but it isn't exactly a point of contention. "Hey! Good to see you!" Big smiles all around, happy and upbeat even as Arsenic screams and yells about the DOOM AND GLOOM and bleeding hearts and anger. It doesn't make /her/ and less chipper! "You work for that really important guy right?"

Minerva starts to say something to Ezekiel, and then the carnage starts and it switches to "On second thought! Not twice in one week..." and she starts gently tugging him more towards the back, looking like she's thankful he made that particular decision.

Rochelle gasps out in surprise as she went from being totally dry (aside the sweat she was working up) to now covered in hopefully fake blood from the exploding hearts. She'll find out soon enough how real or not it is. She takes a moment to wipe soft of it off her face, eyes wide as she looks back to the stage. "Damn, these guys go hard." She comments with a laugh. Good thing she wore stuff she didn't mind throwing away later. Then she circles back to answering Serena's question. "Yeah! I do. Mr. Blue. He's a movie producer/director/etcetera."

"OUR WORLD! OUR WAY!" Arsenic watches as the boxes blow up once more in crimson glory. 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!"

Aaaaaand, Serena is wet. She blinks a few times, reaching down to wipe some of that red stuff off of her and put it in her mouth without a care in the damn world. "Rasberry?" She questions before her attention snaps back to Rochelle. "Hey, that is really cool! I have not met anyone really famous yet. But I don't think they let me near the important folks."

Sid even gets a little splatter on her cheek where she is, thanks to the goings on. Her reaction? She doesn't even bother wiping it off. It just goops there. All raspberry bloodlike. "Come on, use real blood you wanks!" She shouts at the stage with a good natured laugh, clearly still enjoying the show. You paged Sid with 'Hot sticky, feels real but it's not. But very very close.'.

"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.

One. Two. Three. Perfect - it's fake. This is confirmed A - by the taste when her tongue flicks out over her lips and B - Serena's own questioning. "It is pretty cool." She admits. "He's kind of eccentric, but definitely the most interesting guy I've worked for. Even if he does keep me busy." She back to hopping around with the music, seemingly able to do this and keep up the conversation with Serena. "Maybe you can meet him proper in a less frantic setting some time if you wanted! I can arrange his schedule even." Because why not?

"Oh yeah sure!" Serena answers to Rochelle, even as she gives a big thumbs up to Arsenic. Hey, she can appreciate the effort and showmanship going into everything. "I always did want to be an actress!"

After five minutes of that heavy rage-inducing music, the band stops playing again, as the singer grins with a wicked little chuckle. "Now, fiends and ghouls. Are we friends now? 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.

With the band playing one last song Sid takes the opportunity to take a few steps towards the back, brushing past some of the other folks enjoying the show. She gives the stage one last look, reaching up to wipe the goop from her cheek with a single finger and flick it into the air. She smiles, then, and heads towards the exit.

Minerva is back to the bouncing, since very luckily (though perhaps squarely) she only got the raspberry blood on her shoes. She wriggles in Ezekiel's grasp, because she is going to bounce/tango to the music whether he is or not, though, from the way she moves, she'd probably prefer he dance along.

"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!" You paged Sid with 'As a warning he is a ratkin. If you still want to do it go for it.'.

"Hell yeah! You'd be an awesome actress!" Rochelle agreed with Serena before letting out another cheer as the final song kept amping out. "I'll get your number when they finish!"

Arsenic 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 goodbroken 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! WATCH YOUR ASS BEFORE THE KNIFE GOES IN FOURTH AND FIFTH. NEVER WALK AGAIN!"

Zeke holds on for as long as he can while Minerva begins to bounce once more. At first? He looks hesitant to dance with her but, after a moment? The man begins to move slowly at first as if someone he knows might be watching. But, after a bit, he's pretty into it with his companion.

Sid is at the door now, stopping to take one last look at the band before she disappears into the night.

"Oh! If not, I work down at the Heart of Venus, so you can just find me there most nights!" Serena gives a little nod before she turns to scream for Arsenic. Because screaming is good!

" 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. 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!" As he screams it into the club, as he heads into the backroom to get changed.