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Once Quin slipped past him, Eisen was more than happy to release his concentration on keeping the zombies standing still. A couple fell flat on their faces, once able to move again. Eisen shuddered before racing down the stairs after Quin, and the zombies fell after them. They were not fast enough to catch-up, however, as Quin ran past the authorities that were questioning a few survivors at the main entrance. EMS technicians helped to escort a few frazzled souls out to the ambulances, and the NYPD stood with their radios and weapons, just watching the stairwell that Eisen and Quin were coming down. Luckily a few more survivors ran down with them.

Quin somehow melted in the crowd, and Eisen had to sprint to keep up with her. Where was she going so fast? Why was he chasing after her? Why wasn’t he just headed home? His could felt the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, knowing tomorrow he’d be so sore after all the tension and mutation using and biting and chaos.

Once safely outside and past the emergency personnel, Eisen noticed Quin with her black outfit and new plastic footwear. 

“A place? For what?” Eisen grew curious. He then began to recall just how swiftly and confidently Quin had dispatched the zombie clowns and he wondered, his heart beating calmly enough to do so, who exactly was this Quin person. And was she even trustworthy?

He decided to follow her, only because he was still frazzled and dazed, unable to really decide what he wanted to do next. “Lead the way.” He said, peering back every so often, not wanting to be followed by another zombie or something. Realizing he was zombie-tail free, he relaxed his shoulders and trailed behind Quin.

>>”Pull it together, Eisen!” 

“What the actual literal FUCK, though!” Eisen let himself be shaken by Quin, as all this survivor zombie nonsense was crushing him. This was why he worked for money, and not for people. Being a paid mercenary? No problem. Taking out a few Mystics here and there? Check. But having the responsibility of keeping a crowd of people alive —- no sir. He was checked-out, thinking now only of his solitary bed, no matter how lonely it was. The sounds of people screaming and the palpable fear in the air began to squeeze all the air out of his lungs. He wanted out, and he wanted so desperately to care only about himself. But here Quin was, looking him in the eye as if he had all the answers.

>>“But we need a better solution. I can do shit with plastic, vinyl, latex…synthetics. What can you do?” she said before shoving him back and looking around, brown eyes coming back to Eisen's.  "Where can we go?"

”Shit. Shit. Shit. Think, Eisen. Think.” As they hesitated more goo-filled individuals, that had laid as ragdolls, began to arise slowly. They weren’t as fast as the three clowns had been, but they were getting up. And Eisen didn’t want anything to do with those either. But if he wanted to get out of here fast and quick, clearing an exit for those who were still alive may have been the way to go.

The stairwell leading to the downstairs was still blocked off by the clown zombie, but if they could take him out it would pave a way for people to make it out. Another option was to make it to the balcony, where he could take him and Quin to the roof and save their own asses. Both were risky, and one was more selfish than the other. But both valid options. Together, they should be able to take down at least one more.

“I can use my mutation to walk on air basically, and lock things into place as long as I’m concentrating.” He finally responded to Quinn, holding out the pool stick to point out their options. “We could either take out that zombie and make a way for people to escape.”

Then he pointed to the balcony. “Or we could sneak out the balcony, and I can take us out to the roof and save our own asses. Wait for help that way.” He then turned to Quinn and sized her up. He should be able to carry her on his back… Right?

“But the only way I can get both of us out of here… is if you ride on my back.” He stood in full glory in front of Quin, the pool stick in hand and his neon yellow and white, flashing in the strobe light. All while the screams of chaos echoed in the barcade. 

The fleeing crowd combined with the bottleneck effect of the barcade exit doors, utterly terrifying. He’d been in enough mosh pits to know, a crowd could as relentless as waves on a stormy beach. The arms and the legs and the screams rolled over in on them, and when someone in front of them tripped, they were down and out for the count. Eisen for some reason he could not discern in the moment, held onto Quin for dear life and pushed and shoved his way through. He took an elbow in the rib and a sweaty palm to the face before he realized they needed to get to higher ground. They were currently on the top floor of the barcade, and thus the one exit was through the two stairwells at the back, and he realized that would be death, trying to rush down a stairwell with this crowd.

It was as if the clowns had read his mind, for only a few moments later did he notice one of the creatures leaping over the startled partygoers to make his way to the exit. Suddenly, Eisen’s stomach wrung like a towel squeezed of all its contents before being hung out to dry. These creatures must have had some sentience, or rather, something was giving them instruction. But immediately the crowd began to surge in the other direction; the other side of the barcade was the balcony and they were at least three stories up.

>>“We have to help…” Quin said, but Eisen couldn’t agree until they themselves were out of the sea of frantic faces.

“We need to find higher ground.” A few meters to their left were the pool tables, and Eisen pushed his way towards them, holding out his elbow, and body bulldozing through a good amount of people, his arm still on Quin, who allowed him to keep guiding her.

Before they could make it however, another one appeared in the vicinity, a little too close for comfort, and displayed his dominance over a poor woman. At the same time, a floor tile flew out from the ground and planted itself on the zombie’s mouth. The woman slumped on the floor, unable to avoid the goo, but as the zombie tried to pry off his muzzle, it gave Eisen a chance to reach the pool table.

As he pulled himself up on the green surface, he beckoned Quin to jump on it with him. Then he realized, from her suggestion that they should help, and the way she was focusing on the zombified clown, she must have been the mutant who slapped the tile on his face.

“Oh thank God you’re a mutant too.” Eisen breathed a sigh of relief. That meant he wouldn’t have to worry as much about protecting her. But they still had a situation to take care of. Eisen grabbed a pool stick and held it out like a bowstaff - of all the nights to forget his own weapon at home, this wasn’t the night.

“This’ll do.” Eisen then watched as the closest zombie struggled with the tile on his face, white-makeup and all. Then pried it off and latched itself onto another victim.

“That tile was you, right, Quin? What else can you do?” He asked as he picked up a pool ball and threw it at the zombie, who swiveled its head in their direction. It looked visibly pissed. Then it began to charge, the crowd having parted enough that there was no one between it and the pool table.

Once the zombie clown was within two meters of them, Eisen channeled his mutation through the soles of his feet, into the pool table, through the floor and to the zombie’s clothing. He stood suspended, arms flailing, as his clothes held him in place. Within the strobe light of the barcade, its blood shot eyes spilling a glowing blue liquid made it seem like its vision must have been obscured. They could use that to their advantage. Eisen held his mutation, and felt the zombie tug against it; and he waited to see who would win the tug of war.

“If you’ve got anything else in your bag of tricks, now’s the time to do it.” He called out to Quin, holding his mighty pool stick up, ready to strike the moment the zombie broke through.

Every so often when Eisen closed his eyes, he would see flashes of his empty bedroom. The littered cans of Celsius, Monster, Red Bull, and wrappers and wrappers of plantain chips, and his array of bongs named after various presidents like him, all orbiting his huge king sized bed where many a nights were spent with his ‘friends’ and lovers alike. Where were they when he wanted them or needed them? He never asked. As he danced, however, these thoughts latched onto him like the perfumes and bodily stenches of the strangers in his vicinity. He had almost tuned out Quin, the music, the dancing, the sights the sounds. A chilling chant at the back of his head, ‘Loser’, ‘Imposter’, ‘Thief.’

But just like that, he jumped even harder, pumped his fists even faster, gave into the ache of his body and opened his eyes again once the ginger facing him asked a question. He pondered whether to give her a fat lie, or to swing at her with the hammering thoughts in his temple, and go all out. What did he have to lose? It’s not like he’d see her ever again anyway.

“What? You mean— why am I here? At THIS shithole? Why ELSE does anyone do ANYTHING in this city, gorgeous? We’re all running away from SOMETHING. So just fucking DANCE.” Eisen spoke loudly, to the point of yelling. He almost lost all reverence as he rubbed his ass on a lesbian couple behind him. They rubbed themselves against his white and yellow. The purple lighting turning Eisen into a neon polar bear in the middle of a dark forest, and he invited Quin in by widening his wingspan and beckoning her closer.

Then the DJ put on a headbanger. The dance floor was a black linoleum that was already sticky with spilled drinks and hard earned sweat. The crazies raved, legs and arms finding new homes on other bodies. He loved this scene, the zaniness, the hype. He loved it. Right?

He watched as Quin also put on her own moves, finally giving himself a chance to see her in her simple black outfit, her curves and skin and inhibitions all in full display. She obviously wasn’t used to this scene at all, and Eisen had his ways to get what he wanted. To say the right things, touch the right places, tickle the right fancies. But for some reason, tonight he felt like a sieve, his gusto leaking out onto the floor like the rest of everyone’s fluids. She didn’t seem like a girl he’d have an easy time taking home either, and he wasn’t so sure if tonight was a night for a challenge. So he gave her just a little more breathing room.

“And YOU? People don’t come to BARS to be ‘IMPRESSED’. What brings you HERE?”

As Eisen asks the question, a couple groans and shouts of pain and surprise can be heard from some individuals on the dance floor. But the music drowns out the waves.

[OOC: The clowns are starting to be mind-raped and begin to bite the people they’re dancing with. Feel free for Quin to notice or not.]

Eisen’s hopes came crashing down like Santa tumbling into a big, deep, open chimney. Except he had no presents other than a little stutter and a blush that streaked across both cheeks of his. Lo and behold, a gorgeous woman, a tall glass of V8 that looked packed with vitamins and minerals, stood and looked down on him with her own sophisticated beverage.

“I think I’ve had it with machines for the night,” Eisen said as he puffed up his chest and reached down to pick up his glass just so she wouldn’t notice him taking a long, drawn out look of her from her toes to the tip of her ginger-head. His heart bumped around inside his chest, a rush of anxiety grabbed his shoulders and made its way down to his toes. Of course it had to be someone beautiful to see him as the mess he was this evening. Though, the fact she almost looked like she could be his long lost sister added a strange twinge of confusion to his already dazed heart.

“Have you tried popping a quarter in her, and seeing what comes out?” Eisen tried to say coolly- but as soon as the words rolled out of his mouth he wished someone would come out from behind the arcade machines with a giant bat and smash it against his nut-sack. It would’ve hurt less than the sound of his own stupidity right now.

“Uhh… Not that I support the utilitarian idealogy that people are merely vehicles for personal pleasure. Of course not. Right? And if it isn’t an ideology I subscribe to, then I ought to be in that psychic-orgie fest using a yardstick to keep those hormone-charged fleshbags far away from each other.” Eisen gave his new companion a wink and offered her a vodka-stained hand.

“But if I were to be a hedonist, even just for tonight, would you care to dance with me, you beautiful thing?” Eisen no longer paid attention to his words. Pretty girl and lots of her. A young night. Nothing more to lose than he’d already lost. Might as well shoot his shot, as skewed a shot it must have been at this point. The lifeguarding clowns awaited them.