Beyril's Apartment (Join With Permission | Mature (of course))

"When am I not?" She asked finally, rolling her eyes. "Just drive, peto." Savannah offered a single nod to Tony as she tossed him Beyril's back and made her way to the bike. He didn't say a word in response to either of them, sliding into the driver's side and dropping the bag into the backseat. The engine started with a vicious, wicked roar that he'd long-since learned was a terrific turn-on for the girl beside him, but that thought wasn't even the last one on his mind as he set it in drive and pushed it to speeding, ignoring any other, nonexistent, traffic as he peeled out of the drive.

(I'm just going to keep the thread here for simplicity)

Beyril started to nod off in the passenger's side, and focused on the sound of the engine to keep her conscious. A man in a white coat waited outside the entrance to the ER, stretcher and EMTs at the ready. Beyril mumbled to herself, largely unintelligibly as they loaded her up and wheeled her in. The doctor turned to Tony, "Mr. Hayashi said I am to refer to you for the time being. We have a room away from the main ER set aside for her, and he's done all the check in work."

Akira drove like a bat out of hell, reaching speeds the poor bike didn't know it was capable of as he followed the blip on the map that lead to Beyril's phone GPS. He sped through downtown, out of the city, and through deserts in a mad dash to catch up to Brody.

The doctors wasted no time getting her into her room, one stitching wounds while another hooked her up to IVs and monitors. The girl's head bobbed, and she looked around with a sort of blank confusion, pain not truly registering any more, muttering and mumbling to herself, only bits of words making it past the split lip and missing canine, with the exception of, "Where" and "Tony" slipping between the fades between conscious and sleeping.

The roads were empty for a long while. Until the sun started to peak the horizon, in fact. When a tiny black dot on the sandy roads came into focus; a black lamborghini that lined up with Beyril's blip just so. Akira didn't have to ask permission or for an order. His right arm shifted into the links of chain that made up his weapon form. He drove with his left, letting the metal grind and spark along the asphalt until it lit with a powerful fury. He shoved the shoulder forward, slinging the chain through the back tire, watching it explode with a loud bang and a screech as the car spun around backwards on the road. He quickly turned his arm back and spun the bike to a halt while two men in suits lept out brandishing guns. Akira looked over his shoulder, "I'm all yours, aijin."

Tony paced back and forth several times outside of her door, stuck in some conflictual limbo between the waiting room and trying to assist the doctors. His eyes hadn't completely faded yet, but his gloved hands gave way to their wounds soon enough. With a frustrated sigh, he went to the nearest nurse's station, the biker glove removed before it could be 'tainted,' and requested treatment. She gave him a bewildered expression, but as his eyes had finally turned blue, despite the cat-eye slits, he still had his enchanting charm to lull her. Offering a nod and a clipboard, she allowed him to fill out the necessary paperwork right there. They saw him quickly, cleaning up the room and setting in stitches. His other fist was balled as he sat there, his constant glances to them telling them to hurry the hell up so that he could go and check on Beyril. The second they told him he was clear, he went back to the room, pacing in the hallway again and stealing glances inside.

She waited until he kicked the stand down, an instinctual movement that happened before the men even moved. Calculating and ready, not bothering to check if the underarmor, bullet proof vest was secure enough, she took his hand as she dismounted. As he transformed, the whirlwind of fury in her eyes escalated, and she approached slowly, spinning Akira idly at her side. There was a determination in her eyes, but so, too, was that mysterious seduction that she so loved to use to her advantage. Not a word was said as she stepped forward, every pace more deliberate than the last, and as the first bullet rang out, she spun him faster, reangling him in front of her and sending the bullets flying wide. The instant she was close enough, she slung him forward, moving as she could from the other shots as she sent him to wrap around the first man's gun. She ducked behind him as she did, hand wielding a blade as she grabbed the man's neck and pulled him down backwards, allowing Akira to do what he wished with the gun while she used the body as a temporary shield.

After a while, a doctor stepped outside, holding the door for Tony, "Press her call button when her IV is finished. She's groggy, but she's awake, and on enough morphine that she probably doesn't feel a thing."

Akira's tip lit fire with their combined rage, wrapping around the second man's leg and burning the skin. He cried out, not thinking twice before firing five successive rounds into his partner, the shield.

Tony nodded fervently, the concern evident by this point, and it was a wonder he hadn't already busted his stitches. He eased inside, trembling, looking at her half-asleep, frail body and his breath hitched. His eyes flashed to the doctor once more, as he was fearful of going near her, of touching her after all she'd faced. Her boyfriend didn't dare ask the extent of her injuries, the number of stitches now painting the canvas of her body.

Savannah smirked, lurching him back to her as she unholstered and cocked the pistol at her hip. A single shot fired, and a neat literal bullet hole appeared at the crown of the man's head. Her eyes were already trained on the vehicle, and she made her way around towards the driver's side slowly, whip in her right hand, pistol in her left. "I don't suggest making me wait." She said, her voice so clipped and steady that it could cut an earthquake or eruption short. "Come out and face me, you cowards."

Beyril seemed to be mostly bandages, her upper lip the only real visible stitching. A clear plastic tube ran along under the length of her nose, and her right arm seemed to be hooked up to every machine they had. They had to shave back part of her hair on one side to mend a laceration on her head, and gradually the color seemed to be coming back to her freckled cheeks. Her eyes lit up when Tony came through the door, one not widening quite the same way as the bruise beneath it swelled slightly. "Tony..." she breathed, sounding relieved and even somewhat happy.

The door on the other side of the car opened slowly, with a click, and the low chuckle of a man who thought himself too powerful to be killed came just before the man himself. He had unruly dirty blonde hair, and the sort of face that would have been attractive on anyone else. He had a red handkerchief in hand, still wiping Beyril's blood off of his hands, "I take it you're the little friends that Red threatened me with?" his accent heavily Irish wound around the vowels, "You're a lot prettier than I expected."

He couldn't hide the shaky smile on his face, the look of breathless relief. He stepped closer, pulling up a chair along her left side and reaching for her hand gently. "Hey, fenices." Tony whispered, smiling at her as reassuringly as could be managed. "Do you know another word anymore?"

Savannah merely smirked, confidence bordering on cocky as she stood up straight, golden amber eyes locked on his steadily and easily. "More than a pretty face." She said, but the flirtation was there, even with her pistol trained on his head, the whip dragged behind her and ready to slash forward. "Threatened you with us, did she? My, the little lady has gotten wise, hasn't she?" A pout followed, though, and she tightened her grip securely on her fiance, taking a step forward and looking up at him, watching and waiting. "Of course, you didn't take her seriously now, did you? Those men, ha! they were wimps." Her head shook slowly, as if in slow motion. "But you and I... you don't look to be up for a fight. You're going to be a reasonable man, aren't you?"Though her eyes did not appear to leave his, they took in all that they could, everything about his attire, his form, the placement of his weight, and even with her soul perception going strong, reliant on her sense of hearing, she still trust Akira to let her know if anyone else approached.

"Loverboy." she smirked back weakly, intertwining her fingers with his. "Mmmm... warm hands..."

"To be honest, I didn't think you would be able to find me. Not to mention when the girl spoke of friends," He laughed, "I didn't see it possible for it to be true. Someone who mucks up as much as she does, I didn't think she'd have any. As far as reason, I think you'll find I can be very easy to deal with, Miss."

A choked laugh escaped him, and he shook his head. "You make me want to watch Dirty Dancing. Every time. Every damned time..." His head continued to shake as he spoke, and the smile was growing more genuine all the while.

Her eyes blazed and, despite herself, she found herself pistol whipping him straight across the face. To insult her was one thing --- she'd been called a whore since blood had first trailed down her legs --- but to insult a friend, to insult her friend and to her face, no less, was a graver insult than one could have otherwise spoken. She took a step back, muttering curses, actual curses, in Japanese under her breath, unable to formulate the words spiraling through her head, the hatred constricting her chest.

She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, "Maybe you can bring it tomorrow. And we can watch together? I can scoot over, if you wanna sit with me." Beyril smiled gently, watching his eyes, and trying not to move the part of her lip now stitched together, her lip trembling a bit as she saw the sadness, "I'm sorry..."

Liam fell back a bit, stumbling to stand back up, then laughing as he rubbed his jaw, the skin split where she struck him, "I should've known. It's always the pretty ones with the temper. I'd rather not have to turn this into a fight, miss."

He offered her a weak smile, shrugging and slowly easing himself beside her. "What are you apologizing for?" His eyes were pained, but he didn't dare say a word to her, holding her hand close and stroking the back of her hand easily.

She smirked, sliding Akira's handle into her holster and stepping a bit closer. "What's a fox without a little fire?" A giggle followed, a bit softer than normal, no innocence behind it as she watched him. "I'm no competition for you, surely."

"Because I'm worrying everyone." she muttered, a tenseness in her shoulders as she laid next to him, "I... I had gone to Brody to talk to him. I took the GPS out of my phone just in case he got mad... But he had left a message. Called, even. It was a voicemail. He said if you came back over then he was going to kill you. He didn't like us being together. So I went to tell him I wasn't going to make you leave... I-" her voice cracked and she winced from all the talking.

Not a fraction of a second passed, and Akira barely had time to relay, "Watch ou-" when Brody fired three times at Savannah, and ducked around behind the front of the car.

Tony's eyes blazed slowly, the ice blue engulfed in a mystic, azure flame. The pupils of his eyes broke into slits at this, but he did what he could to reign in his temper. "Don't worry about him." He said finally, watching her, skin heating up slowly.

The point blank was a bitch on her shoulder, but she was more than used to dropping, for several reasons, and she rolled in the opposite direction that he went in. Her eyes were narrowed as she looked beneath the car, catching site of his knees. Both hands took hold of her pistol and she fired, shattering his kneecap with the bullet before standing and darting around the opposite side of the vehicle, slowly drawing Akira back into her grasp.

She relaxed a bit into his shoulder, the blips on her heart monitor returning to a normal pace as she mumbled into his shoulder, "I told him I loved you. That's what made him mad..."

Brody cried out, sounding quite a bit less terrifying screaming and cursing like a child, clutching the fragmented knee, blood running between his fingers, "You bitch!"

He tensed, the heat slowly fading, eyes returning to normal as his expression softened. He looked at her, both distant and reflective, unsure of what to say but merely remaining in place.

"I've heard worse." She said, a level of attitude to her as she approached him, whip in one hand, pistol in the other. As she drew nearer, another shot rang out, blasting his hand and sending his own gun skidding across the pavement. She moved to him, spitting in his eyes and striking him hard across the back with her partner. "And I know you've said worse." Another crack, "I know you've done worse." She struck again, "Too bad I don't have a bat, huh? A bat with nails." Another strike, the hardest, and the fury of her own anger heated his chains further, turning them red-hot.

Beyril sort of hummed to herself as she rested against his chest with the one side of her face that seemed to have largely been untouched, muttering to herself, "Mmm.. head-kisses... warm... tummy."

Brody's hand practically shattered as she shot it, and the man's screams pooled out like the blood that ran more freely down his face with each strike. Akira's anger fueled into the links of the chain, lighting them against his skin. "I told her!" Brody spat back, "That's what bitches get for not listening to their masters! You're gonna act like a dog, you're gonna get beaten like one!" he laughed maniacally.

He held her close as she fell to sleep, smiling softly and kissing her forehead as he assumed she asked. He didn't sleep anymore that night.

Her eyes blazed and she threw Akira into the air, allowing him to transform. As he did, she step forward, gripping him be the collar and ramming her booted foot against his bleeding and shattered knee. "Petto," she said, eyes narrowed to the point where you couldn't tell that they were open, "Why don't you tell him how your aijin treats you?"

Akira landed at her side, leather boots, jeans, and v neck shirt all he really needed aside from the order itself. He sauntered around behind Brody, across from Savannah, smirking, devilish and seductive, all in power and control as he let the whip form of his right arm drop alongside him, "How well do you trust my aim, aijin?" he tilted his chin up, not really needing the answer as he knew it, letting her hold him up by his collar, and taking advantage of the exposed back, pulling the whip back, then launching forward, the hooked, barbed end sinking into flesh and peeling it from his back with each strike. Liam's face contorted as he screamed, trying to wrench free of Savannah, but Akira's whip recoiling him back before he could muster up any force.

She did not loosen her grip, did not move from her place as she held him up, balanced precariously on his one functioning knee. "Were she anything like me," Savannah said, teeth grinding between words, "Beyril Stone would just love to hear you scream. Thankfully," She lowered herself closer, gun aimed at his temple in the event that he dared move from her. "She is nothing like me."

He smirked, laughing between crying out at the strikes, "You're right," He laughed, then cried, letting it fade into a laugh again, "You're like me."

Something cracked, a spark of ember and magma breaking through brimstone. She didn't look at Akira, did not give Brody the satisfaction of breaking his gaze. Her knuckle tightened, however, and she dropped the pistol, out of reach and at his damaged side anyway. In a split second, she'd cracked her fist against his jaw, muscles quivering just slightly.

Brody only laughed harder, blood dripping from his lips, "What are you going to do, kill me? I'll get out if you throw me in jail. I have a hundred times! You can't win! You kill me and you're just as bad as I am, you don't, I walk free again. What will you say to that?"

Akira picked up the pistol and pulled back the hammer, aiming at at Brody's head on the ground, "I say fuck you." and pulled the trigger.

Brody's head exploded on the opposite side, the neat bullet hole in his temple like a single marr on white canvas. Akira looked to Savannah, "I'm sorry, but I couldn't stand another second of his damned lies."

Savannah was frozen, staring at the empty haze of a corpse and watching as the soul slowly floated to the surface. She couldn't focus on him, couldn't see straight or think, and her fists and arms were trembling, needing, desperately to attack something. Before he could even approach her, she whirled around and slammed her fist into the hood, surprisingly denting the metal, and rather drastically at that.

Akira frowned, "Beat the car to a pulp if you like, but wear gloves or you'll destroy your hands. I don't want to be the only one not in the hospital."

The door opened to Beyril's room in the morning, though the girl slept too hard to notice. A man in a blue police uniform nodded to Tony, "We have some questions about the incident for Miss Stone? And some... bad news."