In a span of a second, she passed him from the right side and he could feel her turning and standing behind his shoulder, eyeing the spectacle unfolding in front of them. Luke knew what was coming, and he welcomed it. He decided, without a shadow of a doubt, he will do it just like he used to, in the good old times. Limiting his senses to the fullest, cutting off any magical senses that went outside of his body, he prepared to do this in the traditional way.

He needed this, he craved this.

Barely aware of what was happening in his surroundings, he used his magic to Command:

„You got lost, Pretty Lady, go outside, go to safety and forget about what happened.” Lukas commanded the woman behind him. Barely, he could hear a stiffled laugh, and after it, a gentle touch carrased his shoulder.

„The name is Olga'theru, have fun, Tough Guy” a sensual whisper entered his ear. A split second of suprise took over him, dissapearing immidietly as the group of men in front of him started charging at him. He raised his glass and chugged down the contents in one gulp. After that, he threw it forward, towards the assailants.

The first of the group raised their guard, anticipating the glass to hit them.

Lukas took a fast step forward, and with a lighting quick left straight, he connected to the flying glass, shattering it mid flight and making the glass pepper the enemies like shotgun pellets.

The shards shot out in a cone, spraying them all, stopping their movements. Making use of the advantage, he short stepped the distance, his new shoes gripping the floor tightly as his hips spun.

The one closest to him brunt the full force of Luke's spining kick, it was inevitable, and it crashed against his chin like a truck, dislocating it on contact and sending his head and torso spining with spittle and blood showering his nearest companions.

Just as Luke's left foot landed on the floor, he proppeled himself forward using it, launching a mean, right hook powered by his whole body into the guy that was on his left. He could feel the temple crunch, and he could see the enemies eyes turned white as he lost conciousness and his eyes rolled up his skull.

He smiled.

The guy on his right managed to push him backward, but Luke assisted the movement. He wanted to gain distance, he knew, he couldn't get surrounded. As the shoulder sank into his torso, he allowed it to push him back two steps, at the third, he grabbed the guy by the belt and the back of his kneck and launched two quick right knees in succesion, first to the stomach, the other one to the revealed face. Cutting out his lights before the body hit the ground.

The slam of 100kg body put a pause to that escapade, three have fallen already, the rest, even in the drug induced mania became cautious of that. The moment of respite allowed Luke to check behind him, making sure the Pretty Lady was at a safe distance.

She was gone.

His eyebrows rose up, the whole exchange took less than 10 seconds.

„Interesting” he whispered under his breath.

He switched his mentality, shuffling in the state of mine required for this. Looking at the bustling group, he focused on stretching the stiff shoulders, slow, deliberete movement highlighted his barrel like chest as he unzipped the hoodie, and his muscles bulged from under the tight T-shirt as he took of the sleeves from the hoodie, and with the last twist of the body spun it around himself, locking the sleever into a tight not at the left side of his hip and the hoodie dangling off the right side.

„Placing is important,” Luke was sure to remember,”The devil lies in the details,” he made sure it fit him just right, so he wouldn't trip or loose mobility. Even a split second could make a diffrence.

His focus returned to the group in front, he counted six all together, two of them wielding glass tulips in their hands. One of them with a knuckle duster, and one with a police baton.

„Great...” Luke exclaimed. Some of them were looking behind their back, as if anticipating something to come.

Lukas knew that never bode well, and he also knew in such situations.

„There is no time like the present.” he shot forward like an arrow. Air whistling around his raised guard as he charged forward in a low boxers stance, full guard raised up, shuffling his feet on the moist ground in a side step.

They rushed at him in equal speed and just as willing. All of them, including Luke, had their faces twisted in mischivious grins, the promise of violence, the best top up to any drug, the most pure of addictions. Excercising the competence of your body, upon someone worthy, the call to violence.

They wished to answer it with a smile on their faces.

The two tides clashed in a mangled mess of limbs and shouts. Lukas shot to his right, ducking the swipe of a police baton, feeling the rustled wind pass over his head as the metal traveled just a hairs breadth away from his scalp. In the same dash, he allowed his left leg to drag a bit more, and with a quick snatch, he drew it inward, sliding the foot along the floarboards and tripping the guy.

Just as he felt his feet snatched his opponents off the floor, he straightened, and practically slid his tight guard around the torso of the man with knukledusters, one of his fists managed to scrape Luke's rib as an uppercut aimed at his head barely missed. He winced at the pain but didn't stop moving, he bounced his back off the railing and swung his head to the right in rapid motion, making his vision blurr, but not enough not to see the opening that was just created as the opponent missed his left straight.

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From the offset position, he clenched his fist, like a sledgehammer it rose in an arc and his knuckles impacted the liver, and slid upwards to break ribs, a revenge for the slight.

The man screamed an awful sound, liver shots are a horror of its own, broken ribs must have shook his mind. Luke was moving again even before the Knuckleduster guy's knees started to buckle, Luke was already 4 steps away when the man hit the ground, forehead first, while tightly clutching his sides and dry heaving.

Luke spared him no more thought, the man with the baton was standing up, that was the biggest threat factor. Next, came the tulips. And they rushed at him, dancing in pair. A buqet of glass, begging to turn crimson. To bloom.

Lukas dropped the guard lower, and straightened the stance, from tight and compact to loose and flowing. The transition was seamingless, fluid, and the flow of the upcoming movement started unnknowingly.

The arms flared, the hips turned, a deep inhale was drawn in.

„TSS AH!” he exclaimed as a spinning back kick burst from the spin. It lifted him of his feet, the rotational power of his arms dragged the torso along it course. His eyes focused to stay on the same point, head snapping as fast as possible to regain its target.

Alas, the kick was too slow, the shattered ankle failed to deliver enough speed and power.

One tulip turned into a shower of glass, the other one pushed forward enough to drag a deep wound along the lenght of his calv, ending under the knee of his right leg. He cursed as both legs smashed into the boards.

His enemies stopped, both getting peppered with shards of glass in the eyes.

Before he could reorientate, they were pushed away by the guys behind them. The two armed with just their fist, and the one armed with a baton. They rushed him, pinning him against the support pillar, his scapula stretched painfully as his arms were sprayed open by the two, unarmed men.

He thrashed and shoved, it made no diffrence. He was stuck.

With a devious grinn, the baton wielder took a heavy swing and swiped the instrument over Luke's ribs, as if playing cymbals, each broken rib elicited a diffrent note in their owners scream of pain.

Luke could feel them being loose, shifting under the skin, swimming in the mass of flesh.

His eyes bloodshot, rage rising like a tide. He used his the purchace of two man holding him to lift himself up, pushing his spine and neck agaisnt the pillar and shooting out double leg kick like a balista shot, his blood from the open calve hitting the Baton Man face first, the impact followed next.

The whole mass of Lukas's overdeveloped body, carried through his posterior chain, slammed into the mans head, left food detaching every front teeth and pushing them down his throat, while the right broke both orbital bones, almost popping the eyes out of their sockets. The man shot backwards and tumbled, muffeld, chocked sounds of pain were coming out of him as blood and tears rained from his ruined face. The nose was lost in a garbled mess of ichor.

The Tulip Men jumped over the victim, the one still armed tried to thrust the broken bottle into Luke's chest like a fencer. Luckily, Luke had enough time to land both his legs, just as they touched the ground he pulled in his arms as much as he could, lowering his center of gravity and shot forward with a karate-style front kick into the incoming mans clenched hand, by the grace of fate, managing to dig his toes in rapid movement into the attackers wrist. Even through the fabric of his shoe, Lukas could feel the tendons snap on impact like guitar strings, the shifting of bones was grating to feel, like dragging something along gravel. The man clutched his hand immiedietly and backed off, screaming like a bitch.

His friend made use of the opening and unloaded a superman punch packed with his charging momentum into Luke's face, making his head crack against the pilar, disorienting him, His head swayed side to side as his vision blurred and a ringing sound filled his head, disorientating him. What followed next was a rain of blows showering his body with merciless abondon.

Being placed in the crucifiction pose by the two men clinging to each of his arms left Luke with little option of defending himself. His arms tensed as they were pried apart, his head and corpus was treated like a drumset, fists connected with his temples, split his lips, cracked his nose, moved downward onto the broken ribs and internal organs.

The moment the ribs were hit again, Lukas howled in agony, he could feel them crushing his lungs and air escaped from him with a scream. Overpowering even the loud music that surrounded them.

People were gathering on the stairs and the whole club was becoming aware of the scuffle.

The attacker gained sadistic glee when he heard those screams, he returned to the ribs and started pounding on them, cracking them even further.

Unlucky as Luke was, this allowed him to regain his focus and the pain cleared away any dizzines the probably concussed brain was swallowed by.

From a haze, a light of cognition shined through, tinted crimson by anger and pain.

Blindingly fast, Luke curled up, lifting his legs in the air. His body was to heavy to hold in air freely even for the two, especially with how tired the tug of war made them already. They came closer, Luke waited for a bit untill he felt his body drop and a fist smack against his shin. Before another one could come, he twisted his body to the side, and rebounced from the ground, again, pushing as much power as his body could produe through his posterior chain. This time, the vector was reversed, and what started at the hills came to a halt as his forehead smashed against the face of the person that was clutching his right forearm, instatly releasing it.

With a rapid spin of his whole body, accidently slamming his open palm against the metal pilar and growling: „KURWA !” at his opponent, he grabbed the other guy stuck to him by the scruff of his neck. Barely registering how another punch landed on his liver, painfull, but thankfully missing the most of the broken ribs.

With a sudden snap, he once again rapidly twisted his whole body, the arm that was grabbed by the man was now hanging on tightly, clutching his shirt. Using the leverege of his hip, and pulling with both his arms, he took a step forward and shoulder threw one man at the other. Making them both clash and tumble.

Heaving dryly, he didnt allow them to get up. He soccer kicked the one on top in the head, making his body go limp. Under the weight, the other guy struggled to escape.

Luke shambled to stand over his head. Actually resting his palms on his knees and and breathing rapidly, drool mixed with blood escaped his torn lips and in extended, slimy drops dripped onto the last opponents face.

Having a second to compose himself, he straightened.

* Last one left* he thought as he lifted the bleeding leg, prepering to drop it down and impale his heel into the mans face.

Lights flashed, and the floorboards trembled. Luke barely could react.

He raised a sloppy guard as a freightrain slammed into his forearms, crushing them into his chest and with his unstable stance, causing him to fly backward, and tumble few rolls along the corridor, into the crowd that gathered behind him.

He scrambled from all fours back to an upright position while wobbily trying to guard up. From behind his raised arms, he peaked at the source of this assult.

„Ain't you a big fucker...” he said as the full sight of the man in front of him hit him. He was taller than Luke, and about as wide as he was tall, a fat, slobby mother fucker. Spilled drinks stained his shirt, stretched thin over the flabs of fat resting on visibly pernounced muscles. Bald, with the folds of his head reminding a wrinkled, saggy scrotum.

*ugh... * distate spilled from his mind, the fat man's head pulsed, vigurosly, his whole body pulsed.

What was the weirdest, so did his eyes. The man must have taken the lions share of The Blitz. His eyes were constantly shifting with colors, swimming hues of amber and crystal blue permanated his retinas, his whites, the whole eyeball seemed like a moving abstract painting.

Luke felt something was amiss. He gauged the distance between them, and it was hard to believe that a mortal was strong enough to cannonball him so far, even one the size of a juiced-up, walk-in fridge.

Lukas eyes focused and he allowed himself to peek through The Veil, the fat guy started rambling some bullshit while his spit flew everywhere but Lukas paid him no mind.

The man was a mortal, he held no True Presence over The Veil. Surrounding his Specter, Luke could see some thicker density of diffrent energies but with his inebriation, and taking account of the place he was in, he could't be sure what that meant.

So he ignored it, after making sure the enemy was just a human, he relaxed a bit. He could still have his fun.

The distance that separated them was at least 5 meters, Lukas was surrounded by a crowd getting thicker by the second while the Fat man stood lonely in the hall, with the pillar Luke was stuck to, and the guardrails on his left and some tables and couches on his right, the collapsed group laid behind them just near the stairs leading upstairs. Also, clogged up by onlookers.

The music stopped. The lights froze for a moment.

They met each others gaze.

A new song started with a blast, the whole building shook, the lights went crazy.

They charged.