Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-26543176-20140205062423/@comment-24147026-20140219192304

Neil was in pain, immense pain.

He wouldn't exactly call all of it physical, some was to his wounded ego. That damn bartender had seen though all of his tricks, all of his built up years of  self-training on the art of deception had been brought down by a hot-blooded former Hunter. He was not really looking to let that go, not by a damn long shot. There was also the pressing matter that he had kissed that man as a desperate act of getting out of trouble, of course that just came careening down on his head, like the floor did after he was knocked down to it.

He slowly began to pick himself off the tiled floor, gritting his teeth as he did so. He tasted blood in his mouth, which was just all together a horrid taste when it was mixed with defeat -and copious amount of alcohol and another man's saliva- spitting the mixture out of his mouth, he reached to his belt holster and retrieved his weapon.

Devium Alastor was always a last resort weapon, only used for deterring others from following him, or knocking them back if they got to close, it was a awful choice for the kind of fight Neil had in mind, but it was going to have to do. Taking a last glance in one of the restroom mirrors, he didn't seem that banged up, but that was only on the outside, the rage inside of him was too immense, if given corporeal form it would have engulfed half the city by now.

Limping his way out of the restroom, he hefted his weapon till it was on shoulder height, aiming it at the distracted bartender. "Hey Vermont, WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DEALING WITH?" He shouted as he pushed the single button on Devium's handle, sending the heavy lance head shooting out at the man's chest, the attaching cable making a whizzing noise as it flew across the room from the handle to it's target.