Slagthuset Nightclub

Ludwig felt one of the men land a blow at his stomach, and he immediately retaliated. This was going to hurt, which was why he had to get to his gun before someone pulled out a knife or they got to Feliciano.

Ludwig slammed his own fist into one of the men's nose. The rush of his youth, when he was standing up to his mother's boyfriends. It was also a reminder of the bullies when he was a kid.

The men were fighting him with their all, and he felt fists slam into him more than once. He was going to have to get away from them enough to pull the weapon out, but still keep their attention o him rather than Feliciano, so the man could get to the car in safety.

Feliciano ran.
He wasn't going to even try helping Ludwig in the fight - he wouldn't know from where to start, and he knew he wouldn't be of much help, since he was normally the one who was knocked out at the first fist. So he ran away, with the intention of going to the car and... do something, once inside.

One of the guys following their drunk "friend" saw him, and thought that it was going to be funnier following that pretty brunette instead of risking a black eye trying to beat the scary blond man up.
So he followed Feliciano.

Luckily enough for the Italian, though, the man was too drunk for doing anything more than just chasing him around in the parking. Feliciano saw him, and ran faster, only to realize that he didn't remember where the car was - or rather, he thought he remembered, but now the parking was crowded, he was scared and the car just didn't seem to be there anymore.

He eventually spotted the red bonnet and hurried in that direction, desperately searching for the keys inside his pocket.
In the meanwhile, the drunk man was getting closer, and Feliciano slalomed among the cars, trying to leave him behind.


((one reply and Feli's coming to save Lud~))

Ludwig wasn't capable of getting his gun, not with all of the fighting. The men were on him far too quickly and he wasn't able to bend down and get it. So, he was left fighting with his fists.

He landed a few blows and felt a few strike him. He knew he would have a black eye in the morning and a nice bruise on the jaw. It was bound to be painful, but as long as most of the people are focused on him, it was probably all the better. Fewer of the bastards would be going after Feliciano.

Two of the men attempted to grab hold of his arms and hold him back to let the man from the dance floor get an open shot at him. He wasn't used to getting overpowered, but he wasn't used to trying to protect someone as much as he was trying to do for Feliciano.

His speed was what saved him - that, and the fact that the guy after him was really drunk and stumbled a few times against the cars Feliciano was so fast in letting behind him.
Hands shaking, it took him some time to get the keys out of his pocket, and finally open the door. He slammed it behind him just in time to close the other out.

The engine was turned on with a roar, and Feliciano pressed his foot on the accelerator. He could hear the man's protests, but didn't even turn back to look at him.
He had to go back and help Ludwig, somehow.

He could see the small group of people all around his friend. He had to find a way to make them step back so to let Ludwig free to come towards the car...
Hand pressed on his car's horn, he drove directly on the small crowd, aiming at a few guys on the side of the group.
Feliciano didn't really mean to have a blood bath on his conscience, and just as he hoped, none of them was too drunk or deaf from the loud music of the club to not hear the car arriving. They stepped back surprised, leaving Ludwig's side.

"Ludwig! Come in!" Feliciano shouted, stopping as close as he could.

Ludwig managed to free one arm from one of the men, but he was not having much luck with the other, and he knew if he couldn't get himself loose soon, things were only going to get worse. Six men to one did not make for fair odds, but the blond was able to slam his fist into the man at his right's jaw and dislodge his other arm.

He still wasn't quite sure how he was going to get away from all of these drunk idiots, but he stood a better chance now.

Then he heard the car and he smiled. Feliciano had gotten to it safely and was coming to his rescue. It was a turn of events he hadn't expected, but appreciated nonetheless. He made sure to give the man from the dance floor one solid punch for good measure before getting into the car with the Italian. He didn't even have time to think about how frightening a driver the auburn-haired man was.

Shutting the door, he looked at Feliciano -- at least, he tried; one of his eyes was starting to swell. "Are you okay?"

"Not until we get out of here!"
Feliciano didn't even wait for Ludwig's door to be closed, that he was already pressing on the accelerator like never before. The one guys that had tried to grab the car's door (probably to drag Ludwig out again) shouted something at them, but he couldn't care less.

In a few moments, they were on the road again, even though Feliciano didn't seem to care where they were going. He passed a couple of crossroads without slowing down the least - luckily, it was quite late already and there weren't many cars around.

At last, the loud noise of a braking behind them seemed to remind him that they were risking their lives maybe even more than with the drunk guys of the nightclub, and he eventually stopped in the middle of the street.
It was dark and empty, all around, and Feliciano turned to Ludwig.
"A-are you alright? Your eye looks bad..."

Ludwig held on to the dash and his seat. He was a bit worried that he would end up skidding through the windshield if they took an abrupt stop. He paid very little attention to the men trying to grab onto the car. There wasn't much chance they would manage to evade Feliciano's driving. As frightening as it was, it would be amazingly successful at evasion.

When they finally came to a stop, he put his hand on Feliciano's. "I am fine, or close enough to it," he said. "I have been through much worse."

He didn't doubt, though that he looked in bad shape at the moment. He was sure he was covered in bruises at this point.

"Did any of those morons get you?"

Feliciano shook his head.
"No, I was faster than that one drunk guy."

His hands left the wheel to touch Ludwig, and he realized they were shaking. He crossed them on his lap, hoping they would stop soon. He felt like bursting into tears from one moment to another, but he guessed that it wasn't going to be of any help in the situation, especially if Ludwig wasn't feeling too good - despite what he said, that is.

"Your face is still half red, though." he replied quietly, looking at him with worried eyes. It looked like the kind of red that was going to turn blue very soon. "Where did they hit you? You need some medication."

Ludwig took Feliciano's hands in his own. "I will probably need some medicine for the pain, but I should recover."

The blond wanted to laugh now at the suggestion of some of the people at Interpol who had suggested Feliciano might have a more active part in his brother's business. This was not a fighter or killer. The poor man was practically shaking like a leaf.

"Do you want me to drive us back to my hotel?" He thought he might be able to find his way back. He hoped so at least. He might be sore -- very sore -- but he was used to feeling this way and dealing with the emotional crash as his adrenaline ebbed following a fight like this.

He shook his head again.
"I can do it... you shouldn't drive with that eye. You need some ice or ointment to put on it before it swells too much." even though he could tell that it was swelling a lot already.
He tried to squeeze Ludwig's hand back, but his grab was still shaky.

"I'm sorry that this happened. We shouldn't have gone dancing at all... you didn't even have fun, and now you got all beaten up and everything..." he muttered. Nightclubbing had seemed such a good idea, in the start.
Even though he knew that it wasn't his fault if that creepy guy had decided to fight with them only because he was drunk and pissed off, Feliciano still felt somehow responsible for what happened - they should have left the dance floor earlier, avoiding that creepy guy.

"I have everything at home, though. We should go there to medicate you, first of all." he didn't know if Ludwig was mad at him and only wanted to be left alone, but if there was anything he could do, he wanted to help him.

"I suggested we try going out on a real date, and even if I didn't like dancing, I enjoyed spending the time with you," Ludwig said, moving his hand to Feliciano's knee to try to ground the smaller man. "If you think it safe to go to your house, I am fine with that," he said.

He rather liked the idea, to be honest. Though, he remembered he had those pastries the Italian had talked about still up in his hotel room. He supposed they could keep for another day if they absolutely had to.

Feliciano nodded.
"It's safe... everyone will be sleeping soundly." He didn't think his older brother was even home. "Besides, I keep a first aid kit in the restaurant as well."
That was for when knives ended up cutting pieces of fingers together with the rest. Accidents like that didn't happen often, luckily, but sometimes they did.

He started the engine again, starting do drive slowly along the road. Only now he realized that he didn't have the faintest idea of where he was. It took him some time to eventually recognize one of the streets names and figure out the way back to the restaurant.

His hands were shaking less, now. They were going home, Ludwig was going to be okay. And he was going to have a hot chocolate and hopefully a hug as well.

When Ludwig again felt the car come to a stop, he let out a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. They were away from the club and Feliciano was definitely safe now. The trouble was that he also now realized just how much he was hurting.

The men hadn't hit him hard enough to do any serious damage, but he was still aching and sore, and he likely would be for several days. He wondered how he could explain this to Interpol. How could he tel them that he'd allowed himself to be beaten up by some drunk idiots who were not in any way related to the mafia activity he knew was present at the club.

((I posted back in the pizzeria))