The bar was fairly empty as the redhead limped in, sitting at the bar and staring at the list of drinks like he was trying to read in some unknown language. He knew beer sucked, but he needed...something. What with not getting his girlfriend back, and running into that jackass who gave him a matching limp. Lady luck just wasn't very kind to Ty, it seemed. But maybe that was because he was constantly paying for his 'sins.' Oh well...

"Hey kid, you look a little young to be here. Show me some ID or get the hell out." Ty looked up, hands stuffed in the pocket of a new leather jacket he'd swiped just earlier that day. He removed his left hand, covered by the usual green fingerless glove, and pulled his ID from the back pocket of his black denim pants.

The blond bartender took the ID, a pair of blue eyes staring past the rims of her glasses before pushing them back up. "Oh. Sorry about that, Hun. Boss has been bustin' my ass about carding people. Happy birthday," she said, somewhat smiling before pouring him a shot of...something. "On the house."

"Thanks," Ty said, grabbing the drink and taking a sip. Holy crap that was strong! It burned the back of his throat, but he took a breath, taking the shot-glass firmly in his hand and tossing it back. Okay...maybe it actually wasn't that bad. Whatever it was. He turned around, glancing around the bar before looking at the bartender and debating getting another one...

"Scotch on the rocks."

Plopping onto a bar-stool a seat away from another bar patron, Megan crossed her arms over one another and leaned heavily against the counter. "...And an ice pack, if you don't mind." The bartender, a blond woman who she'd met before, mixed her drink first before fetching an ice pack from a fist aid kit beneath the counter. With both her drink and medical supplies in hand, Megan took a long sip and slapped the cold bag over her left eye. Casting a glance right and left with her good eye, and nodded at the man on one side silently, then glanced over at who sat to her right. Some Ginger sat a seat away, nursing an empty shot glass and a dour expression.

Sipping at her drink again, the twenty five year old lowered her ice-pack and swished the alcohol around in her mouth. It worked wonders for getting washing the taste of blood away, but stung like a mother around where her teeth had punctured the inside of her lip.

"Why so glum, chum? Ain't seen a frown like that in a long time. She raised her glass, took a sip, and pointed a finger at him. "You should try your bourbon with ice. Or a Manhattan."

She was sure she looked a mess, but didn't rightly care. A still forming black eye and blood on her feet was the least of her injuries, though thankfully the only visible ones. A skilled eye could probably stop the signs of a scuffle, from the dirt on her clothes to the disheveled hair. Traces of red were still smeared across the toes of her boots, but she'd already wiped most of it off on her victims shirt. Draining the rest of her glass with a satisfied sigh, she waved for another and slapped her ice pack back on.

Ty looked at the woman who'd just entered. Yeah, the kid probably looked pathetic. A definite first-timer. Ty knew the signs of someone just emerging from a fight; he wasn't exactly a stranger to that, really.

"Just sorta down on my luck, I guess," he murmured. His face was dotted with a number of faint, barely noticeable scars, most of them from a recent job-offer turned mutant-hunt. He nodded to the bartender at the mention of bourbon with ice, and she gave a nod, obliging.

"Figured, hey...since I turned 21 today, I may as well cash in on the legal-drinking-age thing." He took a cautious sip of his drink, heaving a small sigh. Maybe one of these days he'd catch a break.

"21, eh? I remember when I was that age." She paused, lips pursed in thought, "Actually, never mind. I don't remember much as all until i hit 22." Grinning made her cheeks hurt, but she did it anyway.

"Though, I still remember my friends getting me so wasted I thought the bartender was Jimmy Carter. Never lived that one down. Nope." Specifically the part where she'd asked him to sign her stomach, because she'd been under the impression that it would make her a historical artifact or something.

Seeing as she was in such a spirited mood, though, she waved the blond woman down and ordered him an Irish Car Bomb to go along with his Bourbon on the rocks. "Trust me, it's a good one." She winked, and cradled her second drink for a moment, before slipping off her gloves and removing the brass knuckles that had been hidden underneath. Both were tucked into the pockets of her half jacket, and she picked at a spot of red on her tank top. "Use vinegar, he says. Blasted liar.

Ty cracked a smile, relaxing a little as he sipped a little more confidently on his bourbon. He quirked a brow as she ordered him another drink to go with his barely-started bourbon. But hey...could he really argue? Not that he knew what he was in for, but...well...that time would eventually come. For now, he was taking it slow. For once.

He blinked as he saw her remove her gloves and brass knuckles. It was apparent that this chick went around looking for fights. Typically, fights just hunted him. "Yeah. The best remedy for blood-stains that I've found is don't get into a fight wearing your favorite shirt. At least that's still wearable. Mine went from green to the beautiful color of dried blood. And it wasn't even my blood..." He took another sip of his drink, kind of scared of the Irish Car Bomb for now.

She snorted back at him, plucking at her black jacket. "Dark everything, and yet it still manages to get on my bloody shirt. 'least it's a throw away." She eyed him, evaluating and scrutinizing from toe to orange, messy mop. He... didn't exactly look like someone who'd talk about being doused in someone's blood.

Unless it was it own, maybe. But, hell, she was one to talk.

Her glass hovered at her lips for a moment while she removed her eyes from him, ice blue instead gazing deep into the amber liquid within her cup. The ice cubs crackled in protest and clinked against the glass; with a sigh, she downed the rest of the burning liquid in one gulp.

"You'll want to drink that before it starts to lose it's kick, you know." She muttered, pointing one finger at him with the empty glass in her palm. "Gotta drop the shot in quick, then gulp it down in one go. It'll put some hair on your chest."

The empty glass was cast aside, and she ordered herself a beer. There really was no need to try and drown herself in booze, when it didn't work right on her anymore, anyway. Blondie, who had been keeping an ear out for them, popped the cap off of a cold bottle and slid it Megan's way. The twenty six year old caught it in one hand, tipped it in thanks, and promptly took a swig.

"Hey, ya'know what's fun?" She glanced around, a half smirk on her lips, and leaned toward him like she had a secret to tell.

"Yeah," he replied, dropping the subject before he had to mention that the one time he was doused in blood was that one time he'd accidentally shot someone. And later cried about it.

I hate chest-hair...Was Ty's last thought before doing everything the girl had instructed, tossing the drink back in one gulp. Okay...that was likely a bad idea. And Ty was such a lightweight. Setting the glass back on the counter, he held onto the bar with one hand, suddenly doubting his judgement.

He looked at her, trying to steady the room that was now slowly spinning. "What?"

Megan's lips curled into a grin, the kind that spoke volumes about how pleased she was with how her night was turning out. She'd stumbled upon some kid in a bar she hardly ever visited, on a night when she was ready for just about anything.

"Motherf#%&in' anarchy!" Her voice was low, maybe a little raspy due to screaming at someone only an hour prior, but she made sure he heard her.

Then, a split second after the words had left her lips, her grip tightened on the bottle of beer in her hand. In one smooth motion she was up from her chair and slinging the heavy bottle at the back of a man's head across the room, with the grace of one practiced in bar fights.

The resounding thunk of glass on skull, and then the thump of the guys forehead meeting table as he pitched forward, unconscious, drew a depraved giggle from her. The passed out mans three buddies hopped to their feet, confusion still in the process of shifting to outrage. Megan cracked sore knuckles and her neck, before slipping out a slim black object from her coat pocket. With a twitch of a finger a lengthy blade flicked out, and she waved the approaching men toward her.

"Hope you know how to dance, sugar." The comment was directed at the birthday boy; whether or not he'd heard her, she didn't rightly care about. "C'mon boys, momma ain't got all night."

That...that was not Ty had expected. Not in the least.

"Well, ****..." he muttered, standing to his feet, the effects of the alcohol starting to settle in. "Fairly...but this isn't exactly the kinda dancing I was hoping for tonight..." he slurred slightly as he pulled out his own knife. It wasn't as long, but the little guy had seen alot of blood since Ty bought it from that pawn shop months ago.

"Not the context I wanted to hear that in, either..." he grumbled about her last comment as the....five? men approached in the still-spinning room. This...was going to suck.

Grinning from ear to ear Megan gripped her blade tighter. The flash of knives had given the three men a reason to pause momentarily, but considering that her male partner was swaying on his feet slightly, they felt they still had enough of an edge to win a brawl. Blades or no blades.

One of them picked up a rickety bar chair to defend against the knife Megan held, while one of his buddies attempted to circle around and flank her from the side. The last of the threesome headed for Ty, making sure to keep a wary eye on the blade as he fell into a well practiced boxing stance.

"You're gonna regret hurtin' jim like that, bud."

Megan snorted, twirling her blade as she waited for her own opponents to close in. "Never regret anything. Regret is for chumps."

When the man holding the chair out at her like he was a lion tamer was in range, she lifted a leg and spun. Her heel smacked squarely into the side with enough oomph to send him off balance momentarily. The other jumped at the moment of opportunity her spin kick gave him, hopping forward to capture her in a powerful bear-hug from behind. She responded by ramming the back of her skull into his nose as hard as she possibly could, and was more than satisfied with the pop and crunch that followed.

Behind the counter, the blond bartender was reaching for the phone. She wasn't a fan of having to deal with fights on her shifts, and had long ago put the police on speed dial. Unfortunately for her, the second her hand came in contact with the phone a small army of fuzzy black spiders rained down on her from the ceiling. It was enough of a fright to send her reeling back from the receiver as she swatted at herself and screamed bloody murder at the top of her lungs.

Screaming which ultimately tore a childish giggle from Megan, who wasn't very fond of New York City's finest interrupting her fun.

Ty attempted to find his footing, but not being used to being under the influence made it harder than it should have been. And he wasn't used to fighting; usually it was a one-sided hit, or a stab. Now, he had two guys trying to box with him. Great. Wait...the two merged into just one, but...he was swaying. That, plus the spinning room made it very hard to focus. Suddenly, Ty saw an opening and he jabbed with the knife, feeling it sink deep. Then he pulled back for another attempt.

But it wouldn't come out. Great...he'd jammed his knife into the bar, and now it was wedged. Fighting with it didn't last long as he felt a punch connect to his jaw, and he swung in retaliation, hearing the man cough as he--for once in his life, got lucky and connected with the man's throat. He then used this opportunity to...well, get rid of the alcohol in his system.

So, he quickly and awkwardly made his way to the nearest bathroom--no wait! Scratch that--Trash can.

Well, hopefully the guy he was fighting would have a little pity on the kid who was one minute trying to defend some girl, and the next kneeling with his head in a potted tree...

The lion tamer abandoned his chair, stepped in with once stride and took a swing at her. She narrowly managed to duck back and out of harms way, feeling the class ring on his finger scrap past her cheek.

Her back slapped solidly onto the wooden top of the bar, her hands clamped onto the inner lip and she brought her legs up and over her. One steel-toed boot caught her attacker solidly under the chin as she flipped herself over the bar, before landing on her feet again on the other side. With her knife still in hand she glanced over to see how her birthday buddy was doing... and noticed that he was gone.

Icy eyes widened slightly and she skirted around the bar as quick as her feet would take her. He wasn't on the floor on the other side, nor was he being pummeled or pummeling anywhere close to her. She did however spot the knife he had been holding, stuck fast into the wood of the bar. With one solid yank, she ripped it out and palmed it. Once she found him, she'd have to give it back.

... unless he was dead, or something.

One of the brawlers recovered, the one she'd clipped under the chin. He came at her hard and quick with a right hook she didn't manage to dodge this time. Stars exploded through her vision momentarily, but she managed to keep her wits about her and lashed out with her knife in retaliation. The blade slashed through his shirt as he through himself back and away, leaving a thin cut from one nipple to his collar bone. Megan latched onto the stool next to her, one that she had stumbled back into from the blow to the face, and swung it at him.

It connected, was blocked mostly by his forearms, and someone latched onto her from behind. The boxer that her drinking buddy had punched in the throat; He lifted her off her feet as the man she'd cut came at her again. She lifted her knees to her chest and kicked out both feet straight into the guys chest. The force of the blow sent the guy holding her falling back, and with an elbow to the ribs she managed to free herself.

Ty slumped against the wall. Okay...that made him feel a bit better, oddly enough. Oh crap...fight. That's right.

Ty saw the guys trying to team up on his new...friend? But they weren't doing so great. Weakly, the kid made his way over, picking up a chair and breaking it against the back of the guy Megan had just broken free from, and he went down. Well, he still wasn't doing very great but...hey he technically took one out, right?

This drinking thing...maybe it wasn't his thing. He lifted his knee to the fallen man's nose, then he lost his footing and fell flat on his back. He just lay there, letting the room spin for a minute.

Two were down; one to go. The kid had re-appeared, but when she spotted him he didn't seem to be doing so well. She new that look, too. Chuckling, she righted herself and stepped toward the last man standing. He wasn't much too look at, being smaller than the other two she'd faced, but he wasn't currently nursing a broken nose, and hadn't had a heavy wooden chair broken over him, which meant he was the least injured.

Spitting blood off to the side, she pointed her knife at him, wiggling it slightly in invitation.

RRRAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

The bar fell silent immediately. All eyes spun to the once hunched over figure of the man Megan had knocked out with her beer bottle. He was up now, back facing the room as his shoulders shook and trembled. It almost looked like he was having a fit of some sort, what with all the jerking and growling he was doing.

That all changed though when he started to visibly shift. His shoulders broadened, arms stretching out wide as his sides as his back arched. His forearms started to elongate, hands bending and stretching into flesh colored points. The clothes he had been wearing ripped and tore, falling off of his body in shreds as he finished mutating into something straight out of a horror movie. Something entirely alien, that no longer resembled the human it had come from.

And it was pissed.

"Ohs%$#! Time to go!" Ignoring the startled man she'd been about to fight, she sidestepped and headed straight for the birthday boy. A table crashed into the bar behind her, splintering down the middle. She straight up hopped over a stray bar stool and reached down to try and grab her new friends arm, intent on forcefully dragging him up and out of danger with her. Meanwhile, chaos erupted in the building. The blonde bartender finally managed to get on the phone with the authorities, but they were having a hard time understanding her over the screaming everyone else was doing.

Another eardrum shattering roar rose above the shrieks, the only warning Megan was going to get that mutant-man was gonna charge. Freaky head down, freakier arms a'swingin'.

When Ty hit the ground, his first thought was to never get up. Then, the roar shook the room. Okay, maybe I should get up,[/color]" he thought, though it was much easier thought than done. When he felt Megan grab his arm, he quickly hopped up, that being all the help he needed. You know, because the roaring beast and the splintering wood and screaming patrons weren't sign enough that they needed to split.

He ran with her, praying to any and every deity he could think of that they'd make it out in time. Well, it wasn't the sort of action he was hoping for, but...at least this was an eventful birthday, right?

"Damn," he half grumbled, half chuckled. "You sure know how to pick em."