2019-07-10 - ...and the Sky Began to Scream

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...and the Sky Began to Scream

Summary: A pair of demon-hunting angels find Twisted's most notorious Demon Hunter in Happosai's gentleman's club, only things never quite go the way you expect...



Who: Dante, Panty, Stocking
When: Sep. 20th 2018-July 10th, 2019
Where: Happy's Eight Treasures - Stage room and Bar(#3043RV)


Dante-icon.gifPanty-icon.gifStocking-icon.gif

The information contained within this log is to be considered information gained Out of Character (OOC).
This information may not be used as In Character (IC) knowledge or in roleplay unless it has been learned in-game or permission has been granted by the parties involved.

Questions should be directed to staff.


Happy's Eight Treasures - Stage room and Bar(#3043RV)
After getting past the martial-arts bouncers the first thing you're confronted with is the sheer number of lights around, shining down on the stage and flickering around the many tables surrounding it. There's poles everywhere with the dancers for the evening, personal service and even meals the size of banquets (But who eats, really? Oh- The Ranma cast!). Only place that isn't heavily lighted is the mahogany bar stretching out where there are stools and waiters, female of course, serving customers. In one part of the room there's a big golden statue of an elderly man, looking quite compact, with balding head and a gi on. Seems to be holding a giant sack of something over his shoulder that's crafted to be empty with a sign stating 'Tips!' on it. There's doors to other rooms, probably for private shows, bathrooms, changing and manager room upstairs and such.


Dante finds himself stepping through familiar and altogether unfamiliar doors, walking into Happy's place. It's been a while since he's been here. He was younger then... He thinks he might have worked here for a time. Eh, he was always so busy chasing tail back then th-...whoa. T&A. He gets lost in flashing skin and smiles as these places tend to be so DISTRACTING...why did he come here anyway? He's just wandering around these days, creating rambling narratives. Yeah, I know I'm a narrative. It's not the weirdest thing that happens around here. He was always happy (pun not intended, but I don't expect the viewers at home to BELIEVE that) that they at least serve booze in these Japanese style places. He places a sake order, since he's managed to get hooked on it over the years, and glances over the new faces. Yeah, like anyone here believes he's looking at anyone's FACE. Tsk.


The women dancing about the large stage at the back of the room seem bored, but maybe that's more because of the time than anything. Luckily for Dante there's not a lot of traffic in here today besides the regulars, but that might be part of the dancers' dull looks as well. About the time he should find himself getting comfortable the lights turn up a little brighter and the women make their way towards the curtains and exit the stage leaving a few uncomfortable stage hands to give things a once over before the next act should begin. In roughly half the time it'll take a poor woman dressed like a Playboy bunny to come over and ask if our hero wants a drink from the bar loud bass starts pounding out of the speakers and the lights dim down once again. That'll make it easier to order for sure.

Stepping out of the curtains comes a shapely young woman dressed in an elaborate black and white gothic dress. Something about the bows and lace make her seem almost like she belongs in a high-school more than a "gentlemen's club" despite her long nearly floor-length purple and pink hair. Stepping up to the edge of the stage with her eyes locked on Dante, she raises a hand into the air seemingly plucking a halo out of nothing which expands and collapses to the floor transforming her outfit into a white and blue corset and skirt that would reveal far too much if not for the frills beneath them. Gripping the nearby pole with her legs she leans backwards blowing a kiss towards the demon hunter before standing straight up and screaming over the sound of the music, "PANTY!!! GET YOUR SKANK ASS OUT HERE YOU FUCKING SLUT!! WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE COMING OUT HERE TOGETHER UNLESS YOU WANT ME TO KEEP YOUR SHARE OF THE CASH!" She straightens up, putting her legs down on the floor before leaning towards Dante and apologetically offering, "I'm sorry, my sister's a bit of an unreliable sack of semen who's probably too full to the brim with cum to come out and dance for you. On the bright side for fifty bucks I can take you back there after the show and let you go for a pony ride on her. She'll probably never even feel it." Yes, friends. This log will not be rated PG. Maybe PSG if you're saying it to warn people that Panty and Stocking are involved.


Dante watches with some interest at the whole spectacle. He tilts his head slightly as Stocking gets closer and, oddly, sniffs the air. He looks quite amused. He offers a slow clap. "Well, young lady, I must say...that was an impressive string of cuss words. I certainly have a chub. Although, 50 bucks? That seems kinda cheap. ... Ah, I see whatcha did there." He wags a finger. "That's a nice implicit insult ya got going...although that's no way to talk about your sister. ... On the other hand, I don't have many nice things to say about my brother either. Not anymore..." He rubs his forehead for a second, looking annoyed, but he gets over it quickly. He looks Stocking over again, just for a moment...and rubs his chin. "Well, I didn't show up WITHOUT some money to burn. How much for the both of ya?" His grin is just a tad feral, at this point.


Having taken a step away, ready to go charging into the back to drag her sister out to the stage, Stocking really wasn't paying much attention to Dante or what he was saying. Possibly a good thing, except the last bit creeps into her skull and she puts together a string of pieces to what he'd rambled off. It's not a very good string. Maybe it's a trick of the eyes but for a brief moment the lights in the room seem to darken as a flash of white streaks across her eyes. How is it anime characters always manage that somehow? Suddenly perching on the edge of the stage and giving our red clad hero a shot of far too much cleavage, the stripping angel sits like a gargoyle making sure her head is inches from his face. "Do I look like some kind of cheap whore to you?" That's a loaded question to ask in this place, isn't it? "Look, 'Chubs.'" She points down to his pants, "You might be packing a bazooka down there in those Goth Topic leather pants of yours, but I'm not interested. If you managed to snag a girlfriend I'd offer to give her a good time..." Stocking hoists her breasts up for a brief second, "...but for now look at the goods and keep that mouth of your shut, alright?"


Dante doesn't say or do much in response. The lady is pretty skilled and knew JUST how to keep him from replying....good lord look at those t-Ok, ok. Down boy. He has a playful smirk plastered on his face the whole time. He MIGHT be enjoying her ranting. When she's finally done with her assertion on the situation, he lifts one finger...and taps it against his palm. "A.) If you want LESS chub going on, talking to me like THAT isn't the right way to go about it. B.) You don't look CHEAP, no. and C.) ...Well, if the ladies are your preference...how much to watch you with another girl? wink" He taps his chin a few times and looks thoughtful. "Although, if I might add an addendum: D.) If that sister of yours IS working tonight and she looks half as good as you do, I'm down. Lucifer KNOWS I've put enough into the international dumpster fund. ... Literally. Was rather impressed as I understand."


"Working? Fuck THAT!" Comes a rough, indignant tone from across what we'll charitably call 'the establishment', and all eyes - no, really, all of them - swivel with swiftly-dawning lust upon that rawest of sexual paragons; Panty Anarchy. The blonde angel is resplendent in a flashy biker jacket, zippers agleam and collar turned upward to tease at the edges of the broad grin on devilishly-painted lips. Beneath the tobacco-soaked outer garment is a scandalous little red dress, playing host to the perkiest buds in the whole fucking room. "Hey," Panty pauses to address said room, "Don't be a bunch of hung-up size kings. You motherfuckers don't need airbags to stay afloat..."

There's the build of a pout on her lips, and then she's back to that perpetually-confident rapista's grin as she swaggers through the bawdy spectators to nonchalantly prop herself against Dante on one gold-bangled wrist. Her nails are bright red, and sharpened to a point, a point she makes very clear as she digs herself a handful of toned bicep. Her eyes are all crotchward, however, and that positively filthy tongue flicks from her open mouth to lap the drool from her lower lip. Y'know, sexy drool. No, we're serious, bitches.

"Holy Mother of Fuck!" Yeah, those are all proper nouns. "This one's already at full mast, Stockin'!"

Panty's baby blues launch from Dante's meaty grinder to the equally-ravishing form of her sister. Work can fuck itself, but play? Mama LIKE.

"You fucking know what, you stuck-up candy cane bitch? I'm down to clown if YOU are." Her tone doesn't imply she has much choice. Panty's on this like spunk on a monkeycrotch. "That's right, asshole," she side-slurs to Dante, eyes lidding and tight little rosebuds prickling tantalizingly against the flank of his pectoral, "That's my sister, and you ain't seen nothin' yet." Beat. Grin. "Wanna be my boyfriend for the next thirteen minutes?"


There's an obvious look of disgust on Stocking's face as once again Panty locks eyes on the first piece of meat she sees instead of actually entertaining the rest of the crowd. Then again most of them seem fine to watch so long as they stay somewhere they can be seen. This isn't the most family friendly crowd on Twisted.

"Dammit, Panty! You can't just skank your way out here and start gyrating things into that bottomless abyss between your legs. We're supposed to be making money, not giving free rides to every Tom, Dick, and Horney you happen to come across. For the love of fuck, if you'd spent an extra ten seconds padding your fucking bra I could have made fifty bucks for the mental suffering you're going to put the sad sack of shit through." Plus, at least she bothered to actually dance and change clothes. Panty is still in her street clothes!!

With a deep breath her white and blue angel outfit seems to melt back to the white and black corset dress she was wearing when she first stepped out onto the floor. She's openly ignoring Dante at this point with her eyes firmly locked on her sister. They might as well be standing in the room by themselves at this point no matter how many bad looks she might be getting from the rest of the staff.

"Besides you second rate cum dumpster, you're supposed to TEASE them, not let them sample the goods! I swear if you get us fired from a job we were quite literally born to do I'm going to drag your bleach blonde head out that back door and wring your neck like the spooge sponge it is!! I'm not going back to wasting my time wasting demons for chump change while Garterbelt isn't around to take away our choice!"


Dante doesn't mind Stocking ignoring him. She gave him a GREAT show earlier...and to be honest, the shit talk is a turn on. She ALSO mentioned that she was mostly into the lady-folk and he's just peachy with that. In MANY ways. Seriously, he's just not much of a bigot. Especially these days! Old, tired n' all that. His line of thought is derailed slightly by a hot blonde piece of ass showing up and claiming to be...wait, the goth bitches SISTER? His nose must be deceiving him here but....eh. Tis a new world after all! (Twisted has ALWAYS kind of been like that and so, as far as he's seen, has every other city that's attached to it thus far). He regards Panty with an amused expression as she sidles up to him. Whoo, this one's got a mouth on her too. ... What? He mentioned the drool! He totally mentioned the drool. ... He just HAS to reply to her earlier assertion though, "Well, babe...not...FULL mast. I don't want to wreck your stage or anything." He shakes his head at that one, knowing full well that he's getting less successful with his quips. Ah well, old age huh? He continues regardless, "13 minutes? ... Huh. Well, fine...but ya might want to work on your staying power just a bit there. I'd be HAPPY to help, of course..."


"Oh, c'mon, Stockin', Tom blew his load in two point four seconds flat--" Panty tries to ignore that her protest is (c)rudely interrupted by Chuck, playing a brief cameo just to point and laugh at the blonder angel's lesser chest. She pointedly ignores this, save for daintily lifting a heel and kicking the chattering dog-thing in the goddamn head. Otherwise, totally ignores it. Mmhm. "'William' sure didn't live up to his name." She stomps on the absolutely-ignored Chuck's head six or seven times for good measure. "And horny?! That's MY fucking line!"

She goes from enraged rant to simpering sexuality like a hot pink sports car goes from eighty to NEGATIVE eighty. They... they all do that, right? Whatever. See-Through's awesome, and Panty is back on Dante like rye on a shitty bar. "Oh cunting ho, you really think you can match me, you steaming asshole?" She thinks for a moment, then flashes that devili-- er, angelic grin. "Fuck yeah, I need all the help I can get, right, Stockin'? Ask my sister," she exudes to Dante, for no immediately apparent (or every currently apparent) reason stretching out her right wrist. (Here, golden bangles somehow flash seductively) "She'll tell you I'm a fucking mess. But I'll be the hottest fucking mess YOU ever fucked, you fucking pervert. Now let me get a hand on that throttle before this prude starts stranglin' me too early..."

Panty makes the most long-suffering of pouts toward her sister, while simultaneously extending her arm in the air. For a moment she's almost graceful.

And then she makes the lunge right for Lil' Dante, painted fingernails at the fore of an air-to-cock missile.

Oh, and Chuck's still there. Also, drooling. This is normal.


Welp, that's it. As long as Panty has her eyes on a new piece of meat, there's no point in pretending to work anymore. Stocking is leaning against the back wall looking bored. Not too bored as to stop listening though. "No, she's right. She needs all kinds of help." For that she starts counting off on fingers, "Mental health, physical health, STDs, something for that halitosis, something for that infection that seems to be turning Backlace green, help leaning how to please a woman..." It's probably a coincidence that having counted out five fingers she makes a fist and fist-pumps the air. Yeah. Probably. Wait, was she implying something with that last one?

Somehow everything she says magically fits into Panty's rant despite neither of them seeing to slow down, pause, or take breaths. Must be an angel thing. Bored with watching her sister climb all over Dante again she glances towards the remains of Chuck and shakes her head. "When the fuck did the Chuck get here anyways...?" That's a good question. Did he even come with them to Twisted? Having asked the question he's immediately exercised from her mind. Damn thing doesn't have any plot importance anyways.


Dante watches the whole thing with some amusement. He's used to...well, a lot worse than this. Keeping calm is easy...especially when you don't have the energy to keep up with the young hybrids anymore. He comments, sort of generally, "I gotta say...hot as ya both are, there's definitely a few nails loose on the collective bulletin boards. ... Does anyone USE those anymore? Fuck, I'm old." He continues after rubbing the back of his head just a bit on that last one. "I guess I know the feeling. Lord knows I've run into enough clashing between one half and the oth-" He trails off as he's promptly groped. Oh, he could sense/track the movement n' all that jazz but...you know, one doesn't talk to scantily clad strippers in a SOMEWHAT seedy strip club NOT to get their bits touched...right? Well, normally that's not what the girls are GOING for but...hell, he's used to having this effect on women. He does mention, though: "Sweetheart, I'd be remiss if I said I wasn't turned on by all the sweet talk...but ya might wanna be careful there. It's got a mind of its own and...it kinda runs things."


"Come ON, Stockin'!"

Chuck sidles casually up to the aforementioned goth, and attempts to lick her left knee.

"If I've learned anything from men, it's that nobody can absolutely satisfy a woman except HERSELF." Right on, sister, to the chick rooting around in a guy's pants. In a stripclub. Feminism!

"Wait, what?" Sweat forms on Panty's brow as she leeeeans back from Dante with her eyes wide and mouth forming not an 'o' of astonishment or an 'ahh' of terror, but a 'fuck yeah' of a delicately-budding flower realizing she might have bitten off more than she can chew all by herself. "Look, dude, I'm not a goddamn idiot, I know how men work and I know how to work men. All I gotta do is tweak it a little bit here..." Oh, and she does. "And yank on THIS PART RIGHT HERE!" Oh yeah, you better believe she shouts that, and the activity down below is uh... exuberant. This'd be about the time their heavenly pimp would weigh in with a stunning revelation, but, well. Here's Chuck.

"Chuck!"

"Shut that little fucker up, Stockin', I'm tryin' to work here. Hey, this IS a big one, think it'd be worth a few Heavens?"

Yup, Backlace is here too. Wait, is she really thinking about...?


There's an audible sound of metal cutting through something meaty as Chuck is sliced in half, blood spraying through the air. The dog-thing simply giving an abrupt, "CHUUUUUUUU-"(CK) before landing in a heap on the ground. Don't worry, they do this sort of thing to him a lot. He'll pop up whole again in a minute or two when people aren't looking at him. "DON'T YOU DARE LICK ME YOU LITTLE LEG HUMPING SHIT-STAIN!" Oh, what was Panty saying again?

Stocking looks up with a sword in hand (and only one stocking on her legs) and grins. "Hell yes!! I was wondering if this was the right guy or not. I was expecting that douchemonger who gets the prostiteens all wet from the TV show, not some grizzly old grandpire trying to reclaim his glory days by slapping on some patchouli and a pleather jacket he found in a dumpster after his last group of whores got tired of his shit and kicked his ass to the curb." She inches closer to the two of them, keeping the tip of her blade pointed towards him. "Y'know, I gotta hand it to you Sis. You actually had a thought of your own for a change and it turned out pretty good. I mean, the money wasn't bad either, but the smell of this place kinda sticks to you like that fungus I mentioned." She side glances Panty, "Seriously. You need to get that looked at. Green panties are grody."


Dante leans back a bit at first. He knows the etiquette for this kind of establishment...albeit that these 2 seem to have a little more going hormonally than MOST dancers he generally sees outside of third-world countries...but then, as he said before, he knows all too well how it feels to be a little bit of...well, a few things, huh? - He's also not an idiot, even if distracted by...all...this...pulchritude...and touching...I mean, it couldn't hurt to j-...Don't you HATE it when your expositional narrative plot device goes off on tangents? ... I might refer to my penis, in the future, as an expositional narrative plot device. Fair warning. No, no...Dante knows what's up. He speaks, "Ladies...I'd be lying my wrinkled old ass off if I said this wasn't the most fun I've had in a while...but ya don't get to be THIS old, in my line of work at least, without learning to read the room....so..." At this, there's a brief 'flash' as reality rips asunder JUST a wee bit, as it's prone to doing around these parts, and expands to a red glowing platform aligned vertically in between him and Panty, covered in runes that...well, who the fuck knows what they mean? Ask Vergil. He's the nerd. Jesus. ANYWAAAYYY...Dante kicks off of it and skids with his seat backwards toward the middle of the room. The platform fades away as he rises slowly...one hand on the chair, oddly enough and the other...offering a teasing wave. "If ya want it, I warn ya now...I'm going to play really hard to get."


Almost as if out of nowhere, those runes seem to basically be wards to protect those around Dante's change and to help Dante change, old Demonic form, that yes Vergil could read, but he's not there.


"Oh fuck! Cockblocked!? You mushroom-dicked asshole!"

Panty's fury knows one very specific bound as Dante makes his (brief) getaway, her left heel up and pounding its one skanky nail against that eldritch barrier. "Goddammit, this fucking fucker's got fuckin' help, Stockin'!" Her teeth grit, enamel emitting a gentle shriek as she works her jaw, then glances to the suddenly-converging crowd of punters and (so-called) strippers alike. "Love it," she asserts, throwing out her previously-very-busy arm to stop the crowd with an outflung hand. "When I don't have to hold back. Also, one: I have lots of thoughts. Here's one now; you're fat. Here's another; uh... fuck you! Two: my panties are NOT fuckin' green!" Thumb and index finger slide through fragrant lace, Panty bends over slightly, and-- "They're BL--" They're green. They're definitely green. "MOTHERFUCKER!!"

Backlace is aloft and spins around her furious fingertips, pulsating with a light that's decidely not-blue, whereon a large verdigris blob of ex-Chu(ck) flies into the face of a nearby salaryman. Dude's fine with this. Panty rather unconvincingly shrugs it all off and takes a big sidestep that just happens to put her closer to her smarter, goth-ier sister.

"Alright, now I'm pissed off. Quit fucking around and finish gettin' undressed, Stockin'. Old man? I ain't DONE with you." Backlace stops spinning, and with a searing flash the barrel of one outrageously angelic Eagle is levelled on her - shit, their - smoking hot target. "Get the fuck back here and check in to the Heart Attack Hotel. You wanna play hard? Let's play hard! We'll blow both your fuckin' loads, you fuckin' pony-ridin' fuckin' fuck!"

Panty's panting slightly, and her eyes are a little glazed. Man, it's hard to keep up with an overachieving sister...

She side-eyes Stocking anyway, and there's that grin, as convincing an argument as that holy revolver.

Is that... music?


A darkened shadow falls over Stocking's eyes as her sister discovers the bit o' Chuck down under. Even blown apart pieces of that zippered dog-thing seem to be a perverted as the whole. Her reaction would be ominous if she didn't go straight into a fit of giggles. This lasts until Panty gets serious and with a nod of her head she turns her back to her sister again just in time for the music.

"Look, you Abercrombie Cowboy, you only get one free show a night so let's speed this up!" It's a weird concept to behold but Stocking repeats the same actions as the dance she came out to at the beginning of this scene. Only this time her movements are mirrored by her sister. Meanwhile the music continues to swell louder and louder.

o/~ "Fly away now, fly away now, fly awaaaay..."

The undergarments are again pulled off. Halos appear again. It's almost like stock footage being played a bit too fast, but that makes no sense.

o/~ "You'll never find a better tiiiime. Make a stand, you'll be fiiine. Know the game, and all it hoooolds. Watch it now as it unfooooolds..."

Both gesture towards their halos, pulling theme downwards, and again their clothes seem to melt into similar angelic outfits. As if there wasn't enough noise from the song, this whole time the two of them drone on in a well-practiced strange monotone...

"O pitiful shadow lost in the darkness, O evil spirit born of those drifting between heaven and earth, may the thunderous power from the garments of these holy, delicate maidens strike down upon you with great vengeance and furious anger, shattering your loathsome impurity and returning you from whence you came!"

As the last line is spoken the music stops. Stocking has both her stockings drawn and changed into matching impossibly sharp swords. Panty and Stocking are once more back to back in a pose... well... not unlike the kinds frequently shared by Dante and his cohorts. Why do demon hunters always seem to follow into the same pat-"REPENT MOTHER FUCKER!!"


Dante quietly sliiides his cell phone away, having evidently been out the whole time. He whispers off-screen to himself, "Regardless of how things go tonight...that one's definitely going in the spank bank." He returns to his composure and offers some hearty applause, blowing whistles through his fingers a few times (Reaching somewhat unpleasant Db's). "That was beautiful! I've been in the biz a long time and I have GOT to give you ladies some credit. You two aren't in the BEST synch or anything, but considering how fucked up of a partnership THIS shitshow already is, I'd say kudos are in order!" He grins widely, a small sparkle glinting from one of his slightly enlarged canines. "That aside, though...I'm very much a foreplay kinda guy so...I'll go easy on ya, but..." He seems to wrap his hand around the chair he was just resting his hand on. The music seems to be slowly climbing b-...no. Different song this time. Two can play at this game, one would suppose? (Devils Never Cry, in this case, since this Dante is 'divergent' if ya will) He whips the chair forward toward the ladies. Anyone else in the place may want to hit the deck or run for it but...he's not even sure anyone here is real. Who the hell knows around here? There does seem to be another chair hurtling from elsewhere...and another. There's pretty much a storm of chairs assailing his would-be capturers/killers/blah-blah-blah from all corners of the room. Oh, they'd hit hard enough but...they just seem to be normal chairs. This place definitely did NOT have that many chairs in it, though...Dante seems to have disappeared from view under the storm of chairs. Anyone with extra-human 'senses' can tell he's still here though...somewhere.


It's a dance as old as time, a universal ballet of mortal arousal and divine fury that would cow lesser men. Even as she's bending over to remove her namesake panties (wait, didn't she already...?), our heroine can't help but notice their outrageously - nay, devilishly - hunksome target's reaction. Up to a point it's so far, so demonic, so worthy of being hunted. But--

Fuck it, there's no but. This dude's definitely evil to the core. To the butt.

In the moment before the somewhat-freshly-debriefed Panty gracefully oozes into the final pose with Stocking, her big ol' baby blues find Dante once more, and in that instant she mouths the words: 'get rocked!' Or it might be 'get fucked', considering who we're dealing with. In any case, Backlace pulsates with enough energy that a lil' spurt of holy energy dribbles out of the barrel, mirroring the passion in the blonde angel's synchronized shout as both sisters give voice to the very actual heavens (accept no imitations; no refunds). Oh wow, was that a rumble of distant thunder? Is it a plane? Is it Garterbelt?

Nope, it's an organ. A duelling choir of angels. Panty's eyelid twitches. A man in the front row, bent double over his dirty anorak, is suddenly sawn in half by a fleeting barstool.

"Well, THIS is a no-brainer! We SAID..."

Panty just starts shooting, big bolts of celestial plasma spewing from Backlace to meet Dante's own missiles in mid-air. Splinters fly, shards are launched, woodchips fill the hair of anyone not beheaded or scalped in the midst of the onslaught - and the erstwhile angel doesn't seem to notice, weaving in and out of the chaos that's one third her own, pausing here and there to tumble, flip, leap, or swing off a filthy light fitting (or filthier patron). It's fortunate for the maintenance of her powers that Panty chooses to wear red - that way, nobody can make out all the blood. She can explain the stuff on her legs.

Dante's soundtrack is - by no sure coincidence - absolutely in time with everything that Panty does, drawing her into the same dance as him. At least she can be sure that Stocking's kept pace, and as Panty flips one last time, coming down atop a falling folding chair, kicking it wide open by spreading her legs - then surfing back to 'earth' (in this case, it's mostly human beings and broken wood) with Backlace held behind her. After a few bumps and skids her unlikely ambulance carries her with a thump up against the long, sticky length of the establishment's pe-- er, main bar.

Her free hand rips an opened bottle of rye from the aghast bartender's hand. Those baby blues flash to Stocking.

"Time to sit this stallion down," Panty asides, because reality has those.

She hurls the bottle, end-over-whisky-sloppy-end, at where her Schlong Sense tells her Dante lurks. What a waste, she briefly muses. What was she saying?

"REPENT--"

That's it! Backlace belches, and the makeshift cocktail ignites. Half the bar goes up instantly.

Oh neat, it's Stocking's turn to look like a GODDAMN BADASS. Team Angel, bitches!


As if on instinct once chairs start being thrown like missiles, Stocking takes to running down the length of the wall - ON THE WALL. How's that for badass? Her swords cutting through chairs that crash into her way and once close enough she kicks off with a spin, landing on the bar top and then charging as fast as she can knocking drinks and whatever off the side as she tries to get to the side of Dante and catch him off guard while Panty goes in for the full frontal assault. Is that in synch enough for you?

Reaching the end of the bar, Stocking leaps to the floor stabbing it with both Stripe I and II and tightening her corset as she eyes Dante for that very important opening while all other eyes are on her sister, but as time goes by and we see Panty blowing her load all over the place, uh...? Where is Stocking?

That's a very good question. It'd be easy enough to answer though as her eyes caught a distraction along the way and stopped at the end of the bar to devour a conveniently placed ice cream sundae. You just can't let something like that go to waste, now can you? "HECK NO, NOT ON MY WATCH!"

When Panty realizes she's been stood up, Stocking will hold her spoon triumphantly in the air and scream, "YOU CAN DO IT, SIS!" Oh, and somehow Chuck has ice cream now too. What is this, a social?


There's a brief beat or two where the sheer ridiculousness of the situation hangs over the scene. A moment after everything fires into a blaze, the air turns cold. REALLY cold. A thin layer of ice climbs across the bar surfaces and from the floor and the fire is slowly beaten into a corner and finally snuffed. The ice hangs against the backdrop for a moment, a few sparkles glinting in random pockets of atmosphere.

Dante steps out slowly from the shadows. Panty was evidently spot on with her targeting. What SOUNDS much like the howl of three VERY large poochies resonates through the bar for just that moment before trailing off JUST as the ice manages to poof into what seems to be a snow flurry and then fading from view. Dante offers a slow clap, which is at LEAST less painful than the type Panty normally has to deal with, right? Right. He grins a bit at the whole scene and offers a bit of a shrug. "So, it looks like the hot gothy one is more interested in junk food, not that I can totally blame her...and we mighta gotten off on the wrong foot. So...lemme ask ya, does someone have a bounty on this beautiful head o' mine? Some shit like that? I can double whatever they're payin' ya, if it's just a money thing."

At this point...the air hangs a little heavy, almost as if triboelectrically charged. His hair stands up just a bit, obscuring his face occasionally. In his old(er) age, he probably should have cut his hair. His grin turns slightly more feral, his elongated canine's a bit more prominent now. "Really, I'd love to solve this peacefully. Gotta tell ya though...if ya JUST don't give me ANY other choices..." It seems as though a dull red-spectrum series of 'bolts' of some kind or another are crackling up and down his body just a bit... "I'll have to make you both a fond memory."


Hurk, hack, wretch, cough; all manner of onomatapeia flood from betwixt Panty's painted lips as she inhales a brief burst of unadulterated heat, only to find the instinctive intake of breath strengthened and made painful by the similarly-abrupt shift to icy cold. Shaking her head, she manages to achieve control of her faculties just in time to hear a 'ping' as both her nipples stand to attention, like good, well-broken bullets. THESE two girls clearly know what's up, at least. "MotherFUCKER," breathes the blonde angel belatedly, curling an arm over her chest to cover her buds.

Naturally, this has the side effect of sending a sub-orgasmic shudder through her body. This pisses her off further; she doesn't care about the cold, dammit! She's just really turned on! When a gently-smouldering bystander tosses her his winter coat, her fury intensifies. Backlace snaps around, and two holy pellets catch the helpful bastard in forehead and throat, pitching him backwards with a startled choking squelch.� "Well!" Declares Panty, rising to her feet with a swipe of her head that sets outrageous straw-coloured bangs to bouncin', "You can't blame a girl for trying to look cool, right?" Backlace spins behind her, held against the curve of her butt as she leans coquettishly towards the dashing demon hunter. "You bet there's a bounty, pretty boy. Heaven wants your kind shot to pieces, and that's what we DO, capiche?" Well, that explains that... (No it doesn't.) "I gotta say, it's been a long-ass time since anyone dared to upstage me and Stockin', but if that bitch is just gonna sit there anyway..." Her shoulders shift in a shrug, the downfall bringing back that whiplash, daredevil grin. "Motherfucker, I'll show you a time you'll never fucking forget." The universe skips a beat, and then Panty's quite literally throwing herself at Dante.

"CAN YA THINK ANY FASTER, YA FUCK?!"� With the speed of the heavenly hellbound, she crosses the floor with an hellacious left hook, unveiling her pronounced rosebuds in the process - prompting a fountain of blood from each side of the room as her erstwhile admirers catch full sight of the angel's arousal. In truth, the punch itself isn't all that impressive, bloodworks aside, at the level these two are at. What it is, is a setup for a pirouetting backflip, and an entirely-emptied clip of Backlace up and down the length of Dante's hopefully-off-balance body.

"Suck my lead, you ghost bastard," she hisses, because talking is STILL a free action. Fuck you.


Stocking idly watches on. The pace of her consumption slowed. She really should be helping out, but Panty can handle things on her own. She's Panty Anarchy! She can do anything! Somehow just thinking that pisses Stocking off, however. "Stupid, good for nothing, goody-two-shoes, girlfriend stealing whore!" Another, angry, mouthful of ice cream. "FUCK HIM UP, SIS!" Yeah. Good pose. Why is something about this gnawing at her? What if this wasn't a ghost? What if this wasn't a demon they should be attacking? Should she be more concerned...?


Dante quirks an eyebrow at the scene. He waves away a few frightened and awed 'just 18!' types that think this is the most amazing sight they've ever seen! He just shakes his head at them as they turn to leave, dejected. Dante continues, "Sorry kids. I'm afraid that this is about to reach such ridiculous levels of fan service, that we have to remove the noobies." He turns to the forth wall and offers a grin, tipping Dr. Faust which seemed to have formed out of nowhere in particular. "This message brought to ya'll by Dante, love doctor."

He turns back to the scene at hand just in time to...reach up a hand and pat the oncoming punch. His physical strength is STILL quite a bit more sizable than either of theirs and it's likely (the way the punch was described at least!) that it doesn't phase him much. He tilts his head slightly as she uses the momentum to pivot backwards. A brief flash interrupts the scene as it seems that Dante has produced a cell phone and quite rapidly snapped off shots that keep Panty's posterity (and likely her posterior). As he pockets the phone, he grins widely at the PDW. Closing his eyes and opening his arms up, he mutters. "Clever girl! ... Well, nah. Clever isn't the word I'd actually use he-" It disappears into gunfire as he grunts in pain a few times, being pitched backwards into the shadows, spraying blood everywhere.


Yeah, not only is Panty not THAT strong (if very, very flexible), she vastly overestimates how brawny she is. You know, when you're used to decking mere mortals or extra-planar haunts... wait, why are we giving her any excuses? Dante's parry goes off without any kind of hitch, and he even manages to get several, erm, 'meaty' lens-fuls of Panty's-- we'd say panties, but lest we forget, she's absolutely wielding those as a weapon right now. What a shame the demon hunter isn't prone to nosebleeds. Better that he CAN bleed, at least.

"Wait--"

That's not better! That's not better at all!

"Stockin', is this fucking fuck bleeding like a fucking normal-ass fuck?" Rabbits Panty as she fiddles around with her divine gusset-gun, making a show of slamming in a fresh clip (what is that, an odor-eater?!) before she turns another cycle in mid-air and lands on the ceiling. Grinning. "That's a new one! Normally it's obvious as FUCK that they're all supernatural and shit. This is like that time we both got turned into zombies!" It's not really anything like that, Panty. "Hell YEAH! Stockin', you gettin' some of this? Oh fuck it, I'll just do your thing for ya!"

Reaching out with her free hand, the blonde angel latches onto a light fitting and then bodily kicks a fan blade from underneath it, turning another somersault before she actually falls - to plant both feet and begin sprinting along the ceiling with her improvised weapon held up like it was a damn katana made of stockings. "Whoooo!" Excitedly enthuses the commando one, breaking into a chaotic wall dash that sends bits and pieces of ceiling debris everywhere. Fuck the rules, she thinks, she's got this by the throat. "Hey, now I get why you do this shit!"

She's not entirely positive where the vanished Dante is going to end up, but by crikey she's trying, and she's still deluded enough to believe her celestial senses will clue her in as she jubilantly springs off the far corner and comes swooping down across the room, cutting a broad enough swathe with her broken fan blade that... she has to hit something... right? Yeah, clever ain't the word, my man. Clever ain't the word at all.

"REPENT, MOTHERFUCKEEEERRRRRR!!"


Rules. There are rules to this kind of thing. For example, Panty's gun can only hurt those with ill intent. To everyone else it just stings really bad. This is a rule. When it gets cold, Panty's nips stand at attention. This is a rule. Everything is rules. Rules are important. Dante was a devil. Panty was an angel. The two must fight. This is because of rules. Otherwise everyone would just be happy, naked, and fucking each other all day and all night like the carefree souls they were intended to be. Rules help keep things together.

Angels don't like rules. Rules where created by the Devil. When that proverbial apple was bitten into rules where created. Modesty became essential. This is why we wear clothes. Clothing is a type of rule. The stricter it is, the more it adheres to the rules. To do without is Anarchy.

Stocking Anarchy watches things become more and more serious and then... stops? Her pace at enjoying the now nicely re-chilled ice cream slows to a halt as well. What is that slutty whore of a sister doing?! Rising up from her seat she marches forwards, grabbing the fan blade out of the air sending her own blood spraying. Something about her has changed. The lights are on, but suddenly it seems that no one is home.

With dead eyes she begins to speak with a calm, monotone voice that on the whole sounds nothing like her. "For every event, there is first a prophecy. An event first comes into existence when there is a prophecy." She turns to look at Dante with those dead, empty eyes. "History is not merely a linear collection of points that we pass through on a timeline. They are connected by a line." Stocking's gaze turns to Panty. "No, perhaps it is more accurate to say that they are made to connect. The body is merely a physical phenomenon caused by synapses delivering electrical impulses. The body exists only to verify one’s own existence."

There is a long pause before the fallen angel begins to move again. In that fleeting moment reality seems to come undone. Shadows seem to be covered in blood. "F̰͌̔̚Ū͉̾ͦ̌́L̔̆ͥ̓ͧ͌Fͮ̎̽̆̊ͨI̜̪̤̅̊̿ͭ̚L̮͐̅Ḻ̼͓̂̂̉̐ͤͮͅ ̩ͨͣ̇̿͆̄T̋̔Ḧ̞͇̩͕̗͈̬̽ͤͨE͓̮̍͛̉͊̚ͅ ͍̗̪̘͎͖̣P̭̔ͦR̜͔ͬ͒ͨ̃̐̉Ȍ͚̮ͧ͑P͆H̖̥E̞̤̤ͯ̌C͋̃Y̭͔͍̑" seems to be written in place of all words in the room. With that same quick flickering the room returns to normal and a much more animated Stocking lifts the sword in her free hand and plunges it into Panty's heart without warning.

Blood sprays in her face. "WE HAVE TO FOLLOW THE RULES, PANTY." She twists the blade before pulling it free. "Swords are MY shtick." With a quickly spreading smile Stocking looks at Dante and announces, "Senior Diablo sends his regards." In the distance a low rumbling starts just as the sky begins to scream...


Dante steps from the shadows where he had 'retreated'. Yeah, he's actually uninjured. (Sure, it takes energy to heal but...he doesn't have to TELL anyone that). He turns to observe the odd events transgressing. Yeah, I mean, he's HOPING for some kind of clothes ripping, hair pulling catfight...but instead he gets whatever the fuck kind of sibling rivalry THIS is an-.....shit! He reaches forward, taking a quick step but...he's too late and Stocking has been possessed (we'll say possessed) and has attacked before he can respond. "No! What the fuck are you do-..." He trails off. His visage takes a bemused look and he lowers his guard into a relaxed position. He glances toward a window briefly before looking back at the scene at hand. "Diablo, huh? Can't say I didn't miss the fucker."....he shakes his head, looking a little pained as he surveys the scene. Slumping onto a stool, he fishes a bottle of beer from behind the bar (try saying THAT 3 times fast) and sighs a bit before draining it. "I take it, though, that SOMEONE is just a LITTLE pissed off. ... Eh, can't say I blame em..."


"What--"

Panty's eyes spread wider than her legs.

No, seriously.

Panty's FUCKING eyes are wider than the full, exhausting wingspan of her gams right now.

Shit's real.

"--the FUCK, Stockin'?!"

It comes out in a shrill, impossibly-furious scream right before everything else unfreezes and the moe-goth angel seemingly executes her sister. At least it's not in cold blood - everybody's pretty hot right now, just sayin', wait-- holy shit, did that just happen? Panty's expression goes through a maelstrom of changes, from rictus shock to uncertain, lip-quivering insecurity. For an instant, lost to time, there's even a flash of that habitual dick-eating grin. When the momentary lapse of reason is passed, she's not left screaming, squirming, or otherwise reacting in any way as one might expect her to. She flops across the floor of the strip club, her dress hanging off now in the least sexy way, blood pooling around her...

And she sighs as her eyes begin to close. "...what... the fuck..."

There's no anger in there, she just sounds deeply, impossibly sad, like the heartbreak of heaven itself. Betrayed, again. The sky is screaming, and somewhere God sheds a tear. Another angel down. Panty makes a rough, choking sound - shit, it's been a long time since she couldn't keep that kind of thing down - and flops over again, bringing her a little closer to Dante through no particular engineering of her own. Maybe it's fate. Maybe she's just been stabbed through the vitals by her fat sister, and-- fuck, fuck, fuckery, she can't be angry about this. She's just CONFUSED.

"...um..."

Baby blues flutter open, just long enough to regard the seated demon hunter. Is he part of this? He seems... god, she wishes she was smarter sometimes.

"Help?" Is all she can finally manage, and then the fallen angel collapses limply into her own broiling fluids.

At least it's far from the first time?

Ba.

Dum.

Tish.


"I was really hoping I could have sent you off with a one liner. You deserved better than that." Stocking wipes her sister's blood off her sword with the hem of her dress as she casually goes to reclaim the other one. "Yeah, but that's the breaks." She walks back to look at Panty, her stockings back on her legs and her blades gone. The angel(?) frowns and lets out a sigh. "No, no. Don't get up. I guess I'll have to carry you home AGAIN." She reaches down and throws her sister over her shoulder without caring if she's still alive or not. Blood squelches and begins to run down Stocking's side from the gaping wound.

Pausing to glance at Dante a moment, Stocking nearly drops her load (I CAN BE PUNNY TOO!) as the world suddenly shakes and that far off rumbling becomes a deafening roar. "From one demon to another, you should probably get your ass to that office of yours and get under your desk. Shit's about to get real." Angelic wings unfold from somewhere unseen and with a single flap the colors go from white to a black dark enough that it seems to be without shape. "This isn't how I wanted this to play out, y'know but sometimes you just have to keep your head down and follow orders." With a massive flap Stocking is hovering in the air and with a second she vanishes out the door just as the lights go out...

Today will be remembered. Not for the blood of an innocent spilled by her own family. Not for the death of an angel or the destruction of the interior of Happy's Eight Treasures, but because this is the day that Bishop 3.2 tried to undo Diablo and Gegoshi's bastardizing of the portals which surrounded the TASK Building. With a straining scream that echoes across the ethereal plane the suspended portals rip back into their original positions, the folded space ripping and tearing the stable Twisted into ribbons. Chunks of rock blast away from the slowly formed planetoid and into the eternal darkness that surrounds it. It would be months before the world known as Twisted reformed, and longer still before the people who lived there could return to their "normal" lives. Yet on this day a prophecy was fulfilled.


The exact details of that prophecy..? That's a story for another day.



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