19025/The Open Door: Mine and Mine

The Open Door: Mine and Mine
Date of Scene:	15 September 2024
Location:	Bryant Park
Synopsis:	A group works with Lucifer, and launches a battle with the horrible demon Hifazodhon in Bryant Park. Finale to 'The Open Door' plot.
Cast of Characters:	Lucifer, John Constantine, Atrice Duckstein, Frankenstein, Camille Russo, Barbara Gordon, Cain Marko, Rien D'Arqueness
Tinyplot:	The Open Door

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Lucifer has posed:
Of all days, this one doesn't feel appropriate for demon hunting. It is a very sunny, warm Saturday afternoon. It's pleasant, only light strands of cloud in the sky. But certain situations require movement even in the most unlikely of weather.

Mystics will sense the demonic activity, the trickles of it in New York. Something is brewing just beyond: like a creature was hiding under a sheet, but is starting to stand up, and this thin veil cannot mask the bulk or the motion.

Even in Gotham, this influence touches. There is an obsidian statue still standing in Gotham, and it suddenly cracks, tilting over, as a fiery imp-like creature rushes it and assaults it, claws gripping the stone and shredding it to bits: fully visible to the cameras that the Bats set up to watch the statue. It seems unaware of the cameras.

Ducky gets a text, clear as the day: 'Opportunity today, taking it. Ya busy?' with some winky-faces attached.

John Constantine has posed:
Bollocks.

Can a magus never catch a break? Bath, after a trip to Hell, interrupted last night. Now his morning meditation - that carried into the afternoon and involved a little light reading, a lot of scotch and a two packs of Silk Cuts. He one of the latter dangling between his lips.

The man truly looks like he hasn't slept in days. He's sporting some butterflies down one cheek - the bandage sort, not the winged and a bandage to the side of his neck.

Arriving with Camille he asides to her, "Stakes on this one are kinda high, luv."

Demonic energy, it all has a signature almost as unique as a fingerprint. Gluttony is the fingerprint taken from that energy. "Maybe we can finish this shite today, ey?" What makes him think it'll be that *easy*? It's never that easy. He plucks the cigarette from his lips and just waits. He's sure more will show, they always do. With all the do-gooders about, one would think there'd be less demons running amuck topside.

Atrice Duckstein has posed:
Ducky was just finishing up paperwork over at the funeral home when her phone started playing a remake of 'Sympathy For The Devil' and that caused her to find which pile it had gotten hidden under. Once it is found, she reads the message and there is a smile as she starts to collect things.

'I'm not up to much. Do I need to meet you somewhere?' she replies back to the text she got.

Frankenstein has posed:
"You really don't see a lot of vans like this on the streets anymore. My uncle used to have one of these, but, you know how it is, had to sell it to cover his lawyer fees..."

The security guard chatters away, leaning against the door of the van. Despite the guard's fondness for vehicles of its particular make and model, it's nothing special, and would generally be considered nondescript if it weren't getting along so well in years. Perhaps it's time for S.H.A.D.E. to fork out some money for a newer van.

The driver of the van seems uninterested in gabbing, but engages just enough to be polite. It's better to have the parking attendant on your side when you're setting up for an op, though it would have been even better if he'd simply taken the cash and let them in.

The driver is, like the van, a fairly nondescript sort, getting along in years. As he finally pulls into the parking garage, he selects a spot and then turns back to slide the partition open and give himself a view into the unlit cargo area. There's not much to see in there.

"Sorry it took so long, Frank. But we're in position now."

"Hrrrn...."

There are sounds of movement, causing the van's suspension to creak just a bit. S.H.A.D.E. really needs to fork over some money for a newer van.

Maintaining a friendly demeanor, the driver continues to update... whoever is back there.

"Only parking garage directly on top of sewer access in the area. We've already taken out the cameras, but you'll have to move quickly before..."

The van's back door opens, there is a loud creak, and then it slams shut. Whoever was back there is gone, leaving the driver with his own thoughts.

"You know... wouldn't kill the guy to say 'Thank you, Bert.' every once in a while. Maybe 'How's the wife and kids, Bert?' 'Oh, they're not great ever since the fire, but thanks for asking!' Swear to god, in fifteen years when my pension clears... they'll be missing me then."

Several meters away from the van, the coveted sewer access is approached by a lurching sort of figure. He lifts up the manhole cover with a single hand, and disappears into the unhygienic darkness, politely covering the hole to prevent accidental deaths.

Camille Russo has posed:
"Ugh, of course it is." Cam slips what looks like a wrapped candy out of her bag and hands it to John. "Do not ask me what goes into these, but it should give you a decent energy and alertness boost." Her marker follows, not even asking before she starts to scrawl flowers and runes for protection and safety across his hands, and then another set up her own forearm as she stares at the library. "On the bright side, I have way more of my kit with me than I did *last* time we were here, but I have no idea if it'll work against these things." Her bag clinks quietly as she shifts. "If some of it does though, I'll know what to stock for the next inevitable demons."

Barbara Gordon has posed:
Barbara had been out late last night, as the Gotham city streets mandate on some nights, especially Fridays. As such, she had slept late, and not even woke up until an alert went off from her Oracle AI system. It politely roused the redhead from her bed, and in a tangle of autumnal locks strewn about her face, she shot awake from the repetitive jangling alarm. "What is it?!" Babs called out, mildly annoyed, as one sometimes is when woken up from a really deep sleep. She raised a hand up, to toss her hair back over her head, and release a long groan, before she heard what was being said, what was causing the alarm.

She'd sprung up out of bed a second later, instantly energized; due to the nature of what caused the alert being realized.

Within moments, Babs had been at her computer station in the main part of her penthouse, sitting on the edge of her chair, as she watched what had unfolded with that statue deep in the darkened cave. She had never liked that solution, but it was necessary. As she watched from the hidden cameras, she just exhaled softly, and shook her head from side to side. "Shit. Not more of this ghost crap..." She said in a weary voice, as she rustled her fiery hair with a hand, and began to issue orders to her AI to bring her up to speed on all the collected data that they had been gathering on this thing, since they acquired it.

Lucifer has posed:
The tone of things has shifted a little bit. That presence that the mystics can sense, that heave, had a restlessness to it: the thing that was hiding was sensing it was potentially about to be found, and those nerves made it visible.

But now, there imps are coming in. Their mystic flavor is different, matching with their nature as sharp, fiery little pain demons. They are small, about the size of cats, though their claws are almost as long as their bodies, which they generally set aflame before they attack. The bats in Gotham have one, ripping that statue apart, and releasing a pungent black ichor all over the place. Microphones will distort with the shrieks that the stone-like pillar was making. The imp, finished with the assault on the pillar, sits down, and waits next to it, drawing runes in the ichor around its feet.

At the library, another imp is visible, tucked up under the entryway stone. It's easy to sense, and it certainly isn't invisible. It hangs there, observant.

Ducky's text answer is: 'You can contact the others, no? I'd rather chat with the group, and not repeat myself. I'm flushing the demon out.'

John Constantine has posed:
An amused little quick of a smile touches John's lips as he watches Camille do her thing. Kid's going to go places, she is, just needs a touch of education and direction. Keeping his voice pitched just between the two of them, he mentions, "This could be the day that bloody wanker Hifazodhon shows his face. Which means the game may be a little rougher than the last time, so stick close, ey?"

He doesn't so much doubt her ability to look out for herself as much as he's not sure the knowledge to go with her skill is entirely up to snuff.

His eyes stray toward the roped off library. "I'm wonderin' if that one is friend or foe," he whispers as he tilts his head toward the Imp. So, why not ask, ey?

In near perfect Lower Enochian he outright asks the little thing, "What's your business here today?" Again, patience is not one of his virtues.

Atrice Duckstein has posed:
Library it is! Ducky gives a bit of a nod to her phone and then is using magic to make her way to said destination. Hopefully she can get everyone together.

Then she has a really really amusing idea. She reaches up above her head in air and draws out a question mark that glows a ghastly green.

There's obviously a quest for the others there!

She then texts back, 'Well, hopefully this will help get everyone together. I will report back in a jiff!' she states. And if anyone is standing close to her she gives a bit of a wave and wiggles her phone, "Someone wants to talk to the group. Doesn't like repeating himself." she states.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
With the sight of the creature performing some kind of a ritual inside the cave, Babs just sighed, and cursed again under her breath. She felt a shadow cross behind her back, and when she looked over her shoulder, she saw the arriving form of her company's personal airship, the GGE Blimp. It was gliding in to a silent position beside the 25th floor of her Clocktower, on its scheduled delivery of solar energy from the sky, where it would shunt it then in to the Gotham power grid through a mechanism mounted on the docking port of the tower's facade. Barbara glanced at the clock, then quickly stood up from her station. She utilized a piece of her Bat suit equipment, and keyed up a microphone inside the cavern. "Creature. Whatever you're doing, I'd like to ask you to refrain from continuing. We're not very fond of such methods of tampering with our claimed belongings."

Did the thing even speak English? Who the HELL knew.

Barbara stepped out on to her penthouse balcony, still in her form fit black sleeveless shirt, and matching black short shorts. On bare feet, she ventured in to her AI operated blimp, vanishing inside the vehicle, high above the city streets below...

Frankenstein has posed:
"Once again, Frankenstein must trudge through humanity's refuse to act in its defense. Hrrrn..."

The unhappy Monster makes his way through the sewer network with practiced ease. It wouldn't do to have his lumbering, stitched-together body seen walking the streets of New York in the middle of an election year. But he seems to be relatively content with the arrangement, despite his lonely soliloquy. It's a short walk, at the very least, and he's far less likely to come across any sentient lifeforms down here.

Though he'd probably come across quite a few if this were back in Gotham.

"Father Time... I'm approaching the library. Still awaiting the updated mission brief. You know how I feel about being sent in blind...."

As he approaches the door, Agent Frankenstein, pauses, and seems to be staring blankly for several seconds. Then he snaps out of it, and moves to open the door with a renewed sense of clarity. Pertinent information is downloaded into the implant in his hindbrain, directly bypassing conscious thought.

"Hrrrn... is this what I have been reduced to? These imps seem a trifling matter, and I was planning to read this evening."

"Yes, while listening to sad music. What of it?"

Back at S.H.A.D.E. command, the sudden arrival of a giant green question mark does not go unnoticed, and it is uploaded to Agent Frankenstein as well.

"Hrrrn... interlopers. Amateurs, undoubtedly. I fear that chaos will ensue."

Cain Marko has posed:
Cain Marko arrives... A lumbering brutish figure that appears from the misty signatures of the portal effects of The House of Mystery and likely pings any mystic senses watching for disturbances and magical entities like a boulder rolling into a swimming pool. He's last in, stepping forward into the sunny, yet demon infested, afternoon outing with dark shades resting on his broad flat nose and his head turning from side to side as he surveys the area like a tank turret looking from one side to the next.

Casual clothing strains across his monument like physique, the visage of a cartoonish image of Godzilla peering over a Tokyo skyline plastered across the billboard esque expanse that is his chest, a jacket and simple jeans and work boots finishing the look off. He's huge, of course, but not 'Working Hours' huge, seemingly opting for a more muted arrival as opposed to a more fully embraced armored-avatar titan visage.

As John addresses the demon, the immense man simply folds his arms, resting them against his torso with an audible sound of his sinew creaking and muscles fighting for room with one another as his arms come to a rest. He simply watches, for now. Waiting for a signal to begin to make his way in.

Potential chaos, indeed.

Camille Russo has posed:
"Of course. I know when to listen." Cam's shoulder bumps against John's arm lightly, and her eyes follow the tilt of his head towards the Imp before he's speaking words in a tongue that makes the back of her neck crawl. "Hope for neutrality, ready ourselves for a fight," she murmurs, shifting her bag more towards her back so she can rest her hand on her sidepiece. It's got freezing blanks in it right now, but she can change those out easily.

Cain gets a bit of a startled look, but while John and the imp speak she uncaps her marker and shuffles the few steps to his side. "Lord, I'm not even sure what sort of help my magic might be for you," she says to the lumbering man that appears. "Hand, please. Any particular weakness you need to get around?"

Lucifer has posed:
The imp that Barbara is talking to looks absolutely baffled by what exactly is speaking to it. It whirls around, but then answers (in the wrong direction). "Must destroy egg sacks. You keeping egg sack here," the imp screeched in answer. "We push soon. Be ready! Coming. We set ass on FIRE." The imp adds, with a bounce of body. "I give message, so well." Best imp messenger. It doesn't seem like it is going to LEAVE, more like it is happy where it is right now.

Similarly, the imp at the library is giving a similar tale. "Mortal fighter people. Hellblazey. Am here to check for egg. No eggs though, good. Maybe not here? Dunno. Get ready to go." The imp started in the same language John chose, then switched to English when it heard Ducky and Camille. The stitched, large new arrival causes it to blink and then actually come down, to happily bounce over towards him. "Hiiiii!" the imp chimes, in a cheery way to Frankenstien, seeming to expect a positive response. "We squishin' big baddies today!"

The imp also takes in Cain, with an appraising stare. It is acting more like a messenger than anything else, little welcoming committee.

Other people that may be around have sensed (or seen) people shifting away. Ducky gets a text of: 'Ixbi is out at the library. I'm finishing something here, one minute.'

Cain Marko has posed:
The imp stares at him. He stares back. Or seems to. His sunglasses might hide preicsely what he's looking at but one can sometimes feel the weight of Juggernaut's gaze as if an earthquake had decided to say 'hello' to you. This same sensation likely falls upon Camille as she speaks to him and the giant man flickers his eyes down towards her and her request for his hand.

"No."

Cain's response is clinical and brief in answer to Camille. He pauses long enough to pop out a piece of gum and begin the delicate process of using fingers the size of sausages to begin unwrapping it. His answer isn't -entirely- truthful though. There are things that can hurt him and weaknesses that can assail him. Stop him? That's a different matter.

"Besides.." he offers, deep voice rumbling out as he watches John and the imp, "...Probably not a good idea to try and cast spells on me. It takes a bit of power to make 'em work and stick or needs to be of a particular kind." He finally gives Camille a grin like a smiling great white shark, full toothed and cheeks pulling back like some Bruce the Shark imitation.

"It'd clash with m'colors. Save yer magic for the others. I got my own protection handy."

Atrice Duckstein has posed:
Ducky recognizes some folks and there is a nod to those that she does. Frankenstein gets a look over and a cheery wave, "Welcome" she tells him. She is the most positive person sometimes. Then there is an Imp, presumably Ixbi, speaking to her and she looks down at them, "Wonder if I can get an imp for Christmas?" she ponders aloud. "Yes we are here to help with that." she nods. "Or well, I am." she adds.

Then there is a look down to her phone and she answers back with 'Alright. Please be safe.' is the text.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
The GGE Blimp was only ever docked to one of its stations around Gotham City for a handful of minutes, before it would quietly pull back off on its pre-planned course. Just as the lumbering airship was in the process of pulling away, another vehicle came to life, this one on the surface of the blimp's upper super structure. A small plane, shaped like an angular bat, with its wings set forward, pushing in to the sky before it. The jet plane rose on VTOL wings in to the sky above the Blimp, gaining a steady altitude, before it shot off in to the sky toward the north!

Inside the cockpit, Babs manned the controls. She'd thrown on a few pieces of black body armor, on her way through the central lift of the Blimp, and now set behind the screens of her custom designed Batwing.

She stared at the creature, as it continued to speak, surprising her to no small amount. "Eggs? I don't think we have any eggs. It's possible that you got the wrong cave, my friend." Her voice bounced across the cavern walls, echoing through the darkness of the otherwise damp environment.

"If you'd like, I can give you a selection of other nearby caverns, and offer you up to date information on how to get to each one in a timely fashion. I am more than happy to provide you with real time assistance, to achieve your goals of finding eggs."

She's stalling him, or hoping as much.

With one hand controlling the jet's directional flight, Babs thumbs a stun weapon she has resting on her lap, checking its charge to see that it registers at full.

With a flick of a comm switch, and a tap of the screen beside the video feed she was watching of the Imp inside the cave, Babs pulled up the communication channels of the JL, and found one of their wizards and sorcerers listed. The ever busy John Constantine was in the Justice League Yellow Pages.

"John Constantine?" A voice sounded out, feminine and maybe vaguely familiar. "this is Oracle Batgirl, from Gotham City. I don't know if you're on this channel still, or if it takes messages for you. But I'm having a bit of a problem here, of a mystical nature. There's a creature, inside a secured location, it is performing some strange ceremony. I'm headed there now, to try and stop it, if I can."

Frankenstein has posed:
"Hrrrn... wretched pestilence. Even the repositories of knowledge hold no sanctity for vermin of their ilk."

It would probably be safe to say that Frankenstein is no great fan of imps, or impkind in general. In fact, he said very much the same thing in so many words.

Looming in the doorway that leads to the service entrance, Frankenstein appraises the situation with yellow, bloodshot eyes. Despite their somewhat glassed-over look, he seems to have no trouble seeing. Whatever it is that he's seen, he doesn't appear to agree with it on principle, which probably explains why one of his bare stitch-covered arms is brought up and over his shoulder to unsheathe the sword strapped to his back. A long, intricately crafted broadsword of celestial origins seems to practically gleam when unsheathed, having been cleaned thoroughly from yesterday's demonic slaughter.

"Prepare for extermination in whatever fashion suits you best. For the Blade of Frankenstein will cleanse this place like a mop soaked in acid."

Camille Russo has posed:
The marker gets recapped and disappears into a pocket. "Noted, but I've got a ton of questions I want to ask... when there are not demons running amuck in the immediate sense. If I waited for no demons at all, I'd never get to ask." She grins at him, reaches up to pat his elbow, and turns to watch the imp. "Huh. Cute demons. Never thought I'd see the day I'd say that." Her face scrunches up in disgust as it talks, though. "Eugh, gross. Egg sacks? John, you think that thing last time..." She shudders at the thought, and reaches a hand into her bag, pulling out a tight cap that her hair gets stuffed into. "Well, at least I came prepared," she mutters mostly to herself. "I hope, at least."

A gleam of... something catches her attention. "Whoa, big sword." She shakes her head, tells herself to focus, then pitches her voice to carry. "Heeeeeey, big guy with the sword, what's up?"

John Constantine has posed:
"Hey, mate," John greets Cain with fondness he spares only for his *friends*, so he not too may people - there's even an unspoken 'thanks for having my back, buddy' in those two simple words.

"I'll take that as friend," John concludes regarding the Imp. Sticking to English now, he asks, "Big Baddies, ey? One of them go by the name Hifazodhon the Many?" If not, then it's not *big* baddies, or at least not the biggest. But also - egg sacks? Those two words never ever mean anything *good*. But with conversation comes dawning. Bollocks.

There comes a point when a man is just too *exhausted* to deal with the likes of The Devil.

Dots connected, someone that doesn't like to repeat himself, little imps known to be loyal to Lucifer.

Bollocks. He's already steeling himself for the arrival of one of his - greatest annoyances? Best ally? Worst enemy? He bloody well doesn't know himself.

Back to business at hand. "...eggs? Giant ugly slug eggs?" John asks of the Imp. Be nice to know if all these gluttony wankers are the same or not. Might be a need for refiguring how to deal with them. "Give us the bloody skinny, mate, what exactly are we facing today?"

Gathering information, when possible, is always the best choice - sometimes, maybe, unless he's not in the mood for it.

Frank catches his attention, or more to the point did awhile ago, maybe even while the stitched together one was still in the sewer - magical signatures and all it. Mental note: Twice in two days. He spares the patchwork man a glance, a tilt of his head and a simple, "Frankie."

He's about to address Ducky when he hears something over his comms - a familiar voice indeed. At least it's not Batsy - he rather likes some of the others, Oracle included. "Nononono, luv, if it's a little red demon, let it be. It's on *our* side in this one, trust me. If you're dead set on gettin' in the thick of it, we're at Bryant Park - the library." Lesser of two evils - particularly when stopping the other evil gets a lien off his soul - man he really does use that thing as bargaining chip way too much.

Bollocks.

He's slow today - lack of sleep's to blame. When the little Imp starts bouncing its way toward Frankenstein, John hurries to intercept. "Nononono," he holds up a hand in a 'stop' motion. "Let's not play with the big lumbering one that wants nothing more than to slice you to ribbons, eye? Make my day a whole lot easier if that didn't happen."

He rolls his eyes heavenward, simply because it's what people do and not because he believes anything up there actually cares. His other hand gives a similar 'halt' gesture to Frank. "Friend, not foe, not today, mate."

Cain Marko has posed:
"You got questions, I got answers." responds Cain though, like Camille, his attention seems mostly on the matter of the imps. He pushes the stick of gum into his mouth.

"Ask whenever you want.." he rumbles after a few chews. "I can multi-task. Nothin' hard about swinging a fist and answering a question at the same time..."

He falls silent though and continues waiting...not really moving too much until he notes the arrival of the -other- big guy.

Cain twists slightly, turning his full attention towards Frank and both of his ginger eyebrows lift up over the rim of his glasses. It seems there -are- things that can surprise him.

"Huh...well I wasn't expectin' -that-... This some other JLD guy? John..."

One eybrow cranks back down while the other stays lifted as Cain glances towards Consantine.

"C'mon....one big guy on yer team aint enough? There's a quota here. Too many in one place and you throw everything off..."

He's -probably- joking. Then again Juggernaut's been known to be 'genre' savvy.

Lucifer has posed:
When the imp near Frankenstein fails to get the reception it wanted, it doesn't throw a tantrum -- it just heads back towards the others. "Not a pet, you don't 'get one'," the imp says to Ducky, insulted. So insulting!

Barbara's imp looks baffled. "This. Broke it. All done now," it explains, pointing at the black 'statue'. The imp is saying that it found what it wanted, and broke it, into a slush of black ichor.

The library, not a week before, was beset by horrors within, bathing it in a slush of body parts and disgusting demon-vomit. It's... not much better than it was, such restorations take time, and it is well-tarped and contained by squads that came to deal with the horrors inside. The exterior is fine, though the big plastic tarps flutter sometimes like the tent over a fumigation.

The tent flaps start to move heavily now, magic gathering sharply, heavily, on the roof of the library, and up above it. The library roof shudders, and a hellmouth spills open. Six flying, horse-like demonic monstrocities exit. They are more like gargoyle demons than 'horses', though they have hooves, flaming manes, and long forked tails ending in fire. Their wings are tattered, batlike.

Around the same time, while everyone is very likely looking UP at that hellmouth heating the sky like a flaming eyesore, the man that was parking nearby has approached on foot. Lucifer's easy to overlook due to that big distraction, but recognizable and memorable to those that met him the week before: not overly tall, blonde, well-dressed suit. "Don't mind the steeds, they're for your use if you like," he calls. "Hi," he says brightly to Ducky, on approach. Lucifer doesn't /feel/ special, his 'mask' is well in place.

John gets an intense smile too. "I thought I'd give the courtesy of letting you know what I'm doing... before I do it," Lucifer says, pleasant, but curt. He's not going to linger around here.

John Constantine has posed:
"That's Frankie and, no - not with us." Not yet anyway. Of course John still isn't sure if they parted on good terms or not the last time they met. Might make team joining negotiations a little strained if not.

The sudden appearance of a Hellmouth does draw John's attention away from his explanation of the patchwork man. He tenses, ready for whatever might spew forth. Then he sees what does and, well, he groans.

Show-off.

Lucifer's actual voice draws his attention. "Right then, good on you mate." His smile's strained as is his voice. Really - he's just too exhausted to handle their typical back and forth. Bloody ghosts, so dramatic, keeping a man up all night begging for help and allit.

He raises his hands in the air and calls out, "A'ight, everyone, bloody well mount up!"

He has to be joking right? The man himself will not be taking a steed. He can't even drive a car due to that whole blood alcohol level thing. No, he'd rather fight with his feet firmly on the ground or - if need be - under a levitation spell that he has *complete* control over.

He winks at Camille and says, "Now's your chance to get a little Hell between your knees, luv."

To Barbara he adds, "Do not take out those bat lookin' wankers, they're on our side too."

Just what side is John Constantine on these days? Well, some think his own, but truly its humanities. Better the Devil that he can bargain with, the one that lends a hand from time to time, than the likes of The Many.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
"Red?" Babs quietly said, as she looked at the display screen on her jet's console. It's an IR camera. "Uh, on our side. Got it." She replied, as he spoke of Bryant Park. She new the place, and obviously knew the library, as it was quite famous, and situated not far from Times Square. "I'll swing by. I've been eager to find a way to get rid of this situation we've been experiencing."

She looked toward the Imp once more, while turning the direction of her plane to directly fly toward Manhattan. With one hand on her control yoke, and the other keying on her stealth systems, to approach NYC without setting off any FAA alarms, Batgirl applied speed to her nimble little craft, its bulkheads shaking as the wind rushed across its airframe.

The man's words, heard over the comms, draw Babs' attention, but the sight of a distant light showing up over the city of New York has Babs' feeling a sense of forboding dread. "Jeeze. What now..." She muttered.

It did not take very long for the Batwing to soar over the Hudson, and in to Manhattan airspace. She angled her plane down, in a curving flight path that would have her circling over Bryant Park within seconds, her eyes staring out the glass of her Batwing's canopy toward what was unfolding below.

Frankenstein has posed:
"Hrrrn..."

The blade of the Archangel Michael looks almost sad as its placed back in its sheath on Frankenstein's back. Probably a trick of the light, or a simple case of anthropomorphizing the inanimate. Humans do that. But Frankenstein himself definitely looks disappointed, and gives the group a somewhat quizzical look as he suppresses yet another rumbling growl.

"You would have me stay my hand? Do you realize the chaos these creatures are capable of causing? Why, the missing socks alone..."

Looking at the imps through long-dead eyes, Frankenstein begins to doubt his course of action, and wish that the upload to his hindbrain had been filled with more useful examples with which to make his case.

"Bah! We have more pressing matters to attend to. I have the feeling that my mission is not in opposition to yours. If another 'big guy' will not prove too cumbersome, I shall aid you."

He's barely had time to offer his assistance than the Hellmouth has opened above him, leading him to scowl in a most disagreeable fashion. Lowering his voice so that it would be difficult for most of the others to hear, he berates the staff back at headquarters.

"Father Time... your intelligence was garbage. Looks like we're going to pay more than we planned for our parking space."

Atrice Duckstein has posed:
"I'm very sorry for the insult." Ducky tells Ixbi in the language he's used to. Then her mismatched gaze looks to where the tent is and then the Hellmouth. Well, that's an entrance! She gives Lucifer one of those cheery waves, "Hi there." she tells him with a smile. She doesn't try to talk his ear off because she knows that he doesn't want to linger around. Or repeat himself.

For the moment she does step back and let others react and speak. Though the blade that Frankenstein resheathes gets her attention. Nice. Very nice.

Camille Russo has posed:
"What in the nine hells?" Frankie? Does John know every demon and giant man on the planet? "Not really my type of music hon, but I'm firmly on the ride a cowboy side of that whole save a horse, ride a cowboy song. Not sure starting with a hellsteed is the way to get my foot in the saddle." Cam gives John a rather dubious look, but despite her words she does approach one of the horses, looking a little spooked as she does so.

"Lucifer," she acknowledges, holding out a hand under the nose of the horse she's beside, letting it sniff along her hand and forearm before patting it along the side of its face. "Please do not bite or toss me," she murmurs towards one of those stony ears before pressing her hands down along the demonic back and using momentum to lift herself up and onto the horse, both legs dangling over the same side. "Alright, side-saddle or whatever it's called is good enough for me," she says to herself, giving the horse a firm pat along it's neck. Her bag gets adjusted to swing from the side her legs aren't on, and then she sits up, watching everyone else.

Cain Marko has posed:
Jesting aside, Cain's right hand had subtly balled up upon Frankie's arrival...listening and waiting. It's not a true tightening of his fist but he watches and listens and as John proclaims that the presence of the lumbering newcomer is not unwelcome - Cain relaxes his hand and resumes chewing gum. To Frankie's own words he gives a light shrug, lifting both of his hands up in a sort of 'eh' gesture.

"Sometimes ...y'need two." he answers. Someone to tank, Someone to DPS, as things may go.

The hellmouth, on the other hand, causes a slightly different reaction and the immense man turns to direct his full attention upon it and then the arriving Lucifer. His scowl nearly mirrors that of the large swordsman. "You gotta be joking."

Cain's heavy brow knits together and his eyes narrow at all of ...'this'. He reaches up and pulls his shades off, revealing the intense scrutiny of his icy blue eyes as they peer at these mounts with an expression that could charitably be called incredulous. "You expect me to ride....that? Ugh..." Complaints aside...he does step forward. He's not going to hold the show up if he doesn't have to but clearly, this isn't an ideal method of travel in his opinion. "Maybe I should invest in some sorta booster-jet pack or somethin'..."

Lucifer has posed:
"I don't," Lucifer answers Cain first, to his question of expecting him to ride. Though in reality, those monstrous 'horses' have carried far more bizarre and wide creatures than Cain, when necessary -- though the steeds are clearly optional. They vary in size, though all of them are large at the baseline, powerful. No saddles are present, but Camille as she climbs onto one will sense the creature is intelligent, and adjusts weight, with awareness of the rider. It should be easier than flying something that is ignoring you. Strands of gross hair-like spines can be used to hang on at the back of the fiery 'mane'. It's still a hotseat, not recommended for bare legs.

"Now then...." Lucifer, a showman at times, waits for attention before he explains himself. His voice //carries//, he has no need to actually 'speak up'. "The demon Hifazodhon burrowed into the boundary of hell much like... a tick. Or, as he is Hifazodhon the Many -- MANY ticks," Lucifer begins. "Laying eggs against the veil."

Lucifer pauses. "That has made him frustrating to remove. I am going to... //change// the boundaries of Hell today. He'll have no choice but to expose himself." Lucifer's smiley quality shifts into an intense look.

"Moving the boundary is... dangerous in a number of ways. I'll be preventing--other problems, from the other side." There now, they are prepared. Lucifer looks up and over towards the hellmouth, his attention moving.

John Constantine has posed:
So far John's still a hard 'no' on the whole fiery gargoyle like steed thing. Truth be told, he doesn't think that his role in this whole battle can even take place from the back of something flying through the air - drawing circles, preparing rituals and spells, dabbling all petty like as he's known to do, non of it works well from the back of a mount.

Last night he was front and center Downstairs, but today - everyone might be better served if he just finds a place to lay low and do his thing. To that, he addresses Cain, "I can't do what I do from on the back of one of those things - keep me alive long enough to do it, ey?"

Then his attention shifts to Camille, "Right then, poppet, don't be a hero. Things get to hot," perhaps literally, "...bloody well get yourself clear of it, ey?" Frankie. "Oy, Frank, mate, whatever's about to come next? Not on our side."

And to Barbie over the comms, <<It's about to get really hot and really dicey down here, luv. Keep sharp, ey?>>

And just like that, John Constantine is working with a team, even making plans. But there's a saying about plans. Certainly he has a 'B' up his sleeve.

He's pretty certain that the lay of the land is about to change completely - best wait until that happens to choose his spot.

Frankenstein has posed:
"Hrrrn... it has been a few years, but when I first started driving, horses were really the only option available."

Frankenstein doesn't really look younger than his actual age, because he pretty much looks like a stitched-together corpse. However, he looks like an especially well-preserved stitched-together corpse, so it might come as a surprise to find that he's been stitched together for more than two centuries. Which means that when he mounts the hellsteed, it's with an easy, practiced sort of motion.

Sure enough, he hasn't forgotten how.

Gripping the mane, and pointing his toes inward, Frankenstein pats the steed near its shoulder, and mutters some words of gloomy encouragement.

"Ah! stud-bred of ill-omen,
I have watched the strongest go -- men
Of pith and might and muscle -- at your heels,
Down the plantain-bordered highway..."

The horse seems to understand, or at least it snorts in an understanding fashion. Frankenstein looks pleased as his mount turns on command. Animals have always treated him better than humans have. Even the ones from Hell, it seems.

"Fear not, Constantine. Whatever approaches will meet with a fate most grisly."

Barbara Gordon has posed:
Barbara certainly had a good view of the situation down below. All of this paranormal, ritualistic, occult shit was beyond her. It was not her wheel house, as they say. But that isn't to say it doesn't interest her, how could it not? She was a gamer, afterall, and had fought the forces of many different Hells from her childhood, on in to her adult years, at least in video game form.

The comm chatter could be heard over the channel she linked with the JL Sorcerer, but she did not reply to him directly, as the Batwing she was piloting was moving in a wide counter-clockwise vecter around the city block that the park was near to. The sleek black aircraft losing speed, as it hovered over a particular rooftop, utilizing its VTOL systems to lower itself down. When the canopy of the small craft slid open, the black clad figure of Batgirl rose up from inside, her masked helmet settled down over her head, her red hair draped out the back to run in wild waves down the cape that unfurled from her shoulders, down to the middle level of her thighs.

Batgirl marched across the roof, stopping at its edge, overlooking the park, and the Hellmouth in the near distance. She grimaced at the sights and sound, a city facing strange dangers to the point where its citizens surely get better rent payments than they would have to endure otherwise, why on Earth would anyone choose to live here if not?

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
As everyone is gathering to ride out and meet Hifazodhon, a portal is torn open in the fabric of reality behind the group. Literally, glowing blue claws REND the space-time fabric apart into a jagged opening through which a hurtling missile of French mutant comes racing through! She flicks a hand towards the portal to close it up juuuuuuuuuuust as an explosion is rocking on the other side. Wisps of fire and smoke puff through at the last moments before the rend seals itself and is gone.

Picking herself up, Rien straightens her clothes and looks to the group with a grin, a very large slashmark across her face healing up as she does so. "Bonjour, mes amis! My apologies for being late, there was an... incident... that had to be dealt with." She's wearing clothes already torn and blood-stained, likely as a result of this 'incident', but Rien offers no complaint, merely moving to one of the demon horses and swinging herself up onto its back easily.

There's a grin at the sight of the Juggernaut down below, "He managed to pull you for this one! Excellent." Everyone else gets a cheery smile and wink as she settles onto the horses back.

Atrice Duckstein has posed:
Demonic horses?! Ducky is a weird one alright. She reaches out to pat one, "I won't call you Artax as I don't want to get stuck in a hellpit of sadness." she tells one of them. She then gives a bit of a frown, "When you try to remove a tick they just burrow in further, but here to help." she nods to that. The second horse that she pats causes her eyes to glow for a moment.

"Better quit doing that I guess." she frowns. Then she gives a look as Rien joins the group and there is a wave of welcome to her as well.

Cain Marko has posed:
"Well I aint riding that thing if I aint got to." responds Cain after Lucifer's words of clarity. Visions of him somehow falling off of one of those things or it collapsing under the weight of him resulting in him dive bombing into to some sort of abyssal depths are already plauging his mind.... And he -has- ridden horses before it's just....well..it's been awhile. The beasts do look study enough for him, he'll give them that. At least, sturdy enough for the moment for it's quickly revealed that this has been Cain at his most 'compressed'.

A sudden crackle of crimson energy wreathes his body like the tendrils of a bolt of lightning. His body expands, taking on more and more monumental proportions and scale. The ground shudders, cracking and sinking in under his feet as the pressure of his presence begins to fully unveil itself and the crimson armor of the Avatar of Cyttorak wraps about his torso and legs.. Immense arm bands, knuckle dusters and finally that tell-tale dome shaped helmet enveloping his head.

Nearly ten feet and one ton of monster-man is finally on display and Juggernaut reaches up and laces his hands together - cracking his knuckles and producing a sound like sequoia trunks shattering and boulders splintering.

"Ready when you are, Luci!"

There is a quick glance of acknowledgement sent Rien's way as he brings his hands down, "Eh - we talked about it not long back. I said I'd help out."

Camille Russo has posed:
"Don't do anything too foolish, John. I don't feel like explaining it to Sara. Or Mike and Rick." She gives him a steady look, brightening at Rien's appearance. "And you know I'll try not to, just going to do my job. If I'd known demonic ticks were involved I would've bought out a section of fingernail polish, though. And maybe some of those giant food tongs to use as tweezers." Her eyes track Ducky, and she nods in agreement with the woman's words. "They do, and they're damn good at it. I imagine demonic ones are even worse."

Cain's transformation catches her full attention. "Holy?" Of course. Of course John knows the damn Juggernaut, a man whose SHIELD file consists of the line "If encountered, try to lure away from civilian areas, otherwise DO NOT ENGAGE." Well, if anyone can squash nasty demons it's got to be this guy, right?

Lucifer has posed:
"If he burrows deeper, to ME, you'll be bored up here," Lucifer teases Ducky. "I hope he does do that."

Technically, Lucifer doesn't need a steed-- but he's still keeping his own power entirely pulled in, masked, and concealed. He snares one of the steed's manes with one hand. "Two minutes," Lucifer grants them. There's a jaunty grin and wave, though it has some intensity and distraction under it. He's really got his attention elsewhere. He empowers his steed, though: it blooms into a twisting spiral of hellflame, and is gone, like a shot, back into the hellmouth. The mouth seals instantly as Lucifer exits, though the ripples of where it was remain.

Two minutes.

The hellish steeds, the firey horse-like gargoyles with their big ragged bat wings move and prance, far more agitated now that Lucifer isn't present. One of them snorts a six foot flame from its jaws, and eyes the group, but they remain under control.

As the two minute mark is crossed, an earthquake trembles through Bryant Park. The people in the park, unevacuated, react in surprise, but not fear yet. The fear begins when a semi-transparent black mass begins to bubble up from the surface of the park, and the buildings around it. Globs of incorporeal mass, like an extracted tumor, begin to surface.

The demon has not chosen to go into hell. Instead, it is arriving here. And it is... in pieces. A torso starts to solidify out of slime in the center of the park lake. Two bizarre hands-- one on a hardware store across the park, the other in a parking lot. Feet, limbs are close, at the library....

The demon had spread himself apart, all over the place, sinking into these areas. Sluglike demons appear on each 'severed' area, like blobs of congealed blood. Hifazodhon is massive, but was not prepared to be forced to the surface in this way. His head isn't human-like, more like a twisted shape with circles of teeth, eyeless, the gluttonous mouth, and is the furthest away, bulging out of the street at Broadway.

Chaos erupts, as these horrifying severed body pieces 'bleed' slugs, and try to inch back towards Bryant park. If it in pieces now, but if it reforms---? A hell lord loose is not a minor problem.

John Constantine has posed:
Right then, get to work John. He was getting the lay of the land pre putrid bubble bits and now he's taking a second look post. His gaze lands on a spot that's relatively flat and relatively hidden - behind a giant dumpster of all things.

'You'll be completely vulnerable once you start, John. - I know *that* but they've got me. - Are you sure? - No, but what choice do I have?

It's the same sort of doubting internal dialogue he has before anything this big.

Some people may wonder if his coat is some sort of bag of holding? Truth is, it isn't. It has a many pockets sewn into the lining, but it's just a coat. That isn't to say he doesn't have quantity tricks up his sleeve.

It starts with a bag of salt no bigger than a plastic sandwich baggie. It's made of silk and glows faintly when it's opened.

Get to work.

Even this little bit - the beginning of pouring a salt circle, it takes concentration. He allows the noise and the chaos to fade into the background when he begins walking a circle, trailing a line of salt from the Dead Sea behind him. He's still walking long after that tiny bag should have run dry.

With the very first fallen bit of salt, the magic begins. The larger the circle becomes, the more that magic can be felt - not only by his allies but by everything out there with senses of such things.

Frankenstein has posed:
Although the intel provided by S.H.A.D.E. is usually less complete than he would prefer, Frankenstein's hindbrain is suddenly bombarded with more than he can realistically process in such a short space of time. But the gist of it is simple: He's not the only dismembered body in New York right now, nor is he even the biggest. Fortunately, centuries of reading poetry nearly every day have prepared him for moments like this, and Frankenstein knows exactly what to say.

"Hrrrn..."

His hellsteed whinies, as flame jets shoot from its nostrils. Wings outstretched, it prepares to takeoff. But takeoff to where?

"Constantine! Your merry band of Seven Soldiers will have its work cut out for it. I must play the part which my appearance would suggest: and go for the creature's brains!"

The wings flap, and off Frankenstein goes, toward what looks like a pretty unmatched fight with a giant head. But who knows? Maybe he'll surprise us all and escape with only minor injuries.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
Over the ledge of the building roof that Batgirl had been perched upon, the sight of that black mass forming to create an unnatural demonic lord continued on its formation progress.

Back at the Batwing, a hatch was opened on the side of the jet, a storage compartment exposed to the evening sunlight. A case had been thrown open, and a item had been removed. The sound of footfalls stomping on roof debris sounded out the location of Batgirl, as she charged across the roof, her gloved hands clutching a silvery rifle, that she quickly charged with a pump of the weapon's action lever. The silver weapon sprung to life, with a glowing blue light inside the cracks and contours of its surface. Batgirl leapt up on to the ledge of the building her jet was parked upon, and launched herself in to the air. her black and gold cape stiffened, spreading out the wings of her blide-suit, allowing her to scale the distance between buildings, but she was not stopping at the next. She was headed toward the hardware store where part of this Demonic Monster was forming.

As she flew, her cape fluttering in the wind behind her thighs, Babs readied the rifle, as she came down out of the sky, sliding to a halt on the hardware store roof, she raised the silvery weapon up, and pulled its trigger.

A blossom of blue-white light shot from the weapon's barrel, fanning out in all directions as the mist it shot out formed in to jagged ice crystals. With a reverberating thrum, a jet of cold fire ice shot toward the massing black goop, that was forming a hand? She wasn't sure, but a refined version of a Mr. Freeze rifle was going to be used upon it, to at least slow it down, if nothing else.

Cain Marko has posed:
Yes indeed it is The Juggernaut. Cain's civilian identity of 'freakishly large red haired man' enables him to still make his way through daily affairs and events without people immediately going 'It's the damn Juggernaut' so...surprise Camille! No doubt she -does- have questions.

But now it's his turn to express surprise. As the entire area ...quite literally goes to hell...Juggernaut squints his eyes and peers at the chaos and confusion from within the shadowed depths of his helm. "....Riiiiighhht.." he rumbles, lifting a hand up to bring his immense fingers against his mouth and chin. If -he- were the aggressor and seeking to just ..destroy everything in his path he'd have quite the number of options - many of which would send his erstwhile companions tumbling every which way along with the bystanders that have yet to evacuate so complete and utter mass destruction seems to be out of the question at the moment.

"Riiiight..." he rumbles again as Frankenstein takes off to attempt to solo the head of this thing. He searches the landscape for a target of his own and then rumbles, "Ah..th'hell with it.." and begins a trundling approach in the direction of the hardware store and the limb therein. Each footfall begins to contribute to the earthquakes in the area, increasing in intensity as he picks up speed - going from a slow walk, to a jog, to a thundering run that sends *TOOOMS* ripplign through the air with each of his stomping steps. He's more of a freight train or a cannonball then he is a speedster so there's no zig zagging or course changes here - but he attemtps to direct his trajectory to catch as many slugs as he can in the wake of his thundering approach towards the building.

Camille Russo has posed:
"Oh fuck me, that's disgusting," Cam mutters angrily. She reaches into her satchel and comes up with a set of vials, purple liquid swirling inside. "Hey buddy, can you get me into throwing range?" The horses seem intelligent, so why not be polite? She doesn't want to piss off Lucifer, at any rate, and she doesn't want to end up on the enemy side of the herd either. They take to the air, and both vials get launched in succession at the same foot, connecting and slowly-spreading into a patch of frost that will hopefully slow any movement down.

She keeps one eye on John as she reaches for another set of vials, giving her horse a scritch between the shoulders. "Alright, let's head for the other foot." They repeat the motions for that foot - two tosses and that slowly expanding freeze creeping across. The library may end up being a total loss for the city with all of these demonic incursions, she thinks.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
As Cain grows into the Juggernaut, Rien can only watch with a growing smile. That never gets old. It's almost enough to distract her when John starts moving, but she catches sight of him scurrying towards the dumpster and the protection it provides.

Moving her hands, chanting low under her breath, Rien weaves a warding spell of protection around the magus. All but invisible, it will wrap around John like a protective cloak, helping to keep him armored while he's concentrating. Luckily for him, Rien's specialty is demons, so it's a little extra effective today!

Turning to the issue at hand, she scans the demon as it slowly start to pull itself together, her features twisting into something beautiful and terrible. Glancing up towards Juggernaut, she mutters, "May need your help in a minute... if you're not having too much fun when it happens..." But then he's off to go upend a building and leaving her to nod and kick her own winged steed into action.

Hands freed, Rien starts flying through the area around the misshappen torso of the gathering demon lord. Her goal is simple.. to keep as much of the rest of him from attaching to it as possible. That means conjuring up magical blasts and lines to take out slugs as they crawl in, or doing fly-by attacks to sever forming connections. As people start to settle into what they're doing, she's sticking to utility for the moment... waiting for a good opportunity to present itself.

Lucifer has posed:
Head -

    The head orients towards the incoming foe, and a tongue the length of two cars slides out. It may be disconnected, but it is hardly defenseless. The tongue lashes, mainly to keep things away, and then is used to heave and start to move the squishy head towards Bryant park, through the traffic. There's a lot of accidents, screaming, movement as the city reacts to a horrible giant head rolling through their street. It doesn't look like it has a 'skull' in there, it is more ... squishy, than that, like an octopus's head.

Right Hand -

    The freezing blast cuts across the slugs oozing from the right hand's elbow joint, making them twist and harden. The hand is twisted backwards, the fingers upwards, like a weird disjointed spider. It grips, slow, numbed, unable to grasp onto anything at the hardware store, as it is sprayed down by cold. It starts to flex a little, trying to break the icy situation.

Torso -

    The torso in the park is not moving; it appears to be face-up. It has limbs on it-- in that they end at knee and elbow joints. It is easily the biggest part of it. It isn't 'fat': everyone may have expected the gluttony demon to be fat, but instead, it is concave, as if the whole stomach were empty. Some slugs from the other areas are starting to rush this way; many of them fly. Rien starts to murder them, and they pop when hit. A few slugs were nearby and able to attach to the torso at the limbs, starting to return to the main core. The stomach gurgles, a deep, demonic growl. Ribs move unnaturally, like teeth, lifting upwards to 'bite' at Rien's steed's feet. The flame is too much, though, and the rib-teeth pull back down.

Left Foot -

    Camille goes for the ground, and the traction of the slugs tugging at the foot is slowed significantly. The clawed toes rake and move, seeking things to push off of. If left alone, it would probably take it five minutes to move back. The right foot has gotten more progress.

John Constantine has posed:
About half way through the creation of his circle, John stops. <<Right then, my target is givin' this wanker a bad case of indigestion - you lot need to keep those other bits from joining with the stomach.>> Makes sense, doesn't it, that a gluttony demon's biggest source of power and its biggest weakness would be its stomach? Instructions out there, he gets back to work.

No words accompany his slow circle, just intent backed by his more innate magic - the stuff born of Hell itself truth be told. Most of what John's 'internal' magic is a direct result of the demon blood coursing through his veins.

Focus John - focus.

Breathe in, breathe out and *focus*. There's nothing going on out there - you aren't one breath away from certain death if something gets through the others.

You're *fine*.

He's got this.

He's *got this*.

He feels Rien's magic settle around him. See, they've got you.

With the completion of the circle - the magic around John is just that much more palpable.

It hardly seems large enough to bind - or draw back into Hell - a demon of The Many's size, but magic doesn't work within the confines of 'making sense'.

Atrice Duckstein has posed:
Ducky points to her eyes and then points to Lucifer, "Two minutes!" she nods. What was two minutes?! She doesn't ask because he's got stuff he was going to do. She then looks to Ixbi, "Do you want to help me clear the park so people don't fall into a Hell hole?" she asks the imp. Then Lucifer is going into the Hellmouth and...all Hell kind of breaks loose? She should have figured that. There is all of the others that are fighting the different appendages that she was wondering if she should do crowd control.

"Or do you wanna go fight this thing with me?" she offers the other option to Ixbi.

Frankenstein has posed:
Frankenstein's egress results in surprisingly little collateral damage considering the dramatic flurry of action and flame. It's possible that the image of a giant patchwork figure riding on the back of a flying fire-spewing horse will end up on some website or another. Perhaps it will even go viral. But at the moment, there are larger concerns than anonymity for the Agent of S.H.A.D.E.

"No Father, I don't recommend using nuclear weaponry at this time. A subtler approach should work. Yes... I will use my favored subtle tactics: fall upon it from the sky and hack it until there is naught remaining but an unctuous, foul-smelling ruin."

As they near the gigantic tongue-propelled head, Frank and his hellsteed both look similarly disgusted. That really saying something, because Frank has seen himself in the mirror on more than one occasion.

"You must keep your distance, Floyd. Support me with your fiery blasts, if you possess the skill to do so without burning me, for I detest the feel of burning flesh."

At some point along his journey, Frankenstein began referring to the steed as Floyd.

It's only after Frankenstein has leapt from the horse and begun plummeting toward the giant head that the thought occurs to him that maybe the horse doesn't really speak English. It's only fair, as Frankenstein doesn't speak hellsteed.

No matter. The sword of the Archangel Michael is once again loosed from its sheath, as Frankenstein falls from a height of several stories in the air, blade first, building up speed until he collides with the giant squishy head!

Barbara Gordon has posed:
The Freeze Gun had been salvaged from an incident two years ago, when a Mr. Freeze plot had been foiled in an abandoned tech industrial park. Babs had spent the part part of a year and a half trying to figure the design out, before she felt comfortable enough to modify the weapon for her own use. It'd been a fun thing to lose herself within, on quiet nights in her workshop. She was putting her redesign to the test here, and now, unleashing the full onslaught of ice beam wrath upon the strange bloated slugs, and the hand itself.

When one of the slug things wormed its way toward her, Babs fired with ruthless disregard for its well being, until it seemed to be fully frozen through. Her golde-bronze armored boot was slammed down upon its frozen shell, shattering the thing in to multiple pieces, before she backed up, and shot again toward the hand itself.

The rifle was rapidly running out of power, however, as its power supply had been one of the biggest hurdles. She had managed to double the length of its life, but the precious energy run-off effect was a bane to most pieces of equipment run by batteries.

She continued to pour the ice flow in to the hand, until her rifle began to protest, and when she slung it over a shoulder via its nylon strap, Babs dashed forward to rush toward the building's ledge, wishing to abandon the roof before the hand toppled and caved the place in.

Cain Marko has posed:
Shards of ice and bursts of frost billow and spray in all directions as Juggernaut closes in on the hardware store and begins crossing the parking lot in a steady thundering charge that sends parked cars flipping this way and that if not literally flattened under foot with immense footprints embedded into their roofs and hoods. The giant slows, taking in the sight of the ice formations about the building and the hand as it struggles to burst free from them.

"Thanks Babe." he calls out in the direction of Batgirl and her assault upon the hand that's kept it busy and at bay until he got near.

"Lemme take a crack at it...."

Said crack occurs as he drives his massive hands into the ground , fingers dividing the concrete pavement like a hot knife into butter and the surge of strength from The Exemplar of Physical Power rushing into the landscape from the blow. Fissures begin to crack and form, opening up in every direction as The Juggernaut leans forward into his task and then heaves forward and up. Muscles as thick as suspension bridge cables bulk up and swell - creaking and warping his armor like a second skin as if threatening to burst through the mystic metal about his torso ... and with a horrendous final sound of the earth giving way and a shaking of the entire park, Juggernaut moves to haul the landscape upwards, hardware store and all. Pipes burst and power lines sunder as the foundations of the street and city are revealed like watching a slice of cake being hauled upward, hardware store included.

Once satisfied with this feat, Juggernaut shoves and pushes forward - intending on literally flipping this landscape upwards and over, and everything with it, to try and send it burying ontop of and crashing into the demonic hand.

He, naturally, gave Babs the time needed to get the hell out of ther of course. He can be a team player on occasion!

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rising up into the air on her own flaming hellsteed, Rien can't help but grin as those rib-teeth try to grab at the horse but can't hold out against the heat of the Hellfire. She looks over the torso, as if seeking something. Listening hard, cutting through the din and chaos of the battles being fought, the cacophany of destruction. She's pinpointing something. There. That will be the point of entry.

Marking the spot for herself, Rien wheels the horse around to take another strafing run around the torso, letting the hellsteed burn away the slugs reaching for the torso even as she makes another pass to ensure none of the other 'parts' are getting close enough to reconnect with the torso. Trying to keep it clear, as separated as possible.

And waiting for a signal... this is going to suck. A lot. But it will suck less for her than for most. So of course, she's going to volunteer for the suicidal job!

Atrice Duckstein has posed:
Ducky gets a REALLY bad idea.

"On second thought, stay here, Ixbi. I don't want Lucifer mad at me if you get squished." she admits. Yes, she really didn't want to annoy him. She grabs one of her knives from it's sheathe and hurries off to do said Really Bad Idea.

She stabs herself in the upper arm, letting the blood flow down over the blade before she tosses the blood covered blade at the torso of the demon. "Alright, lets see how they like this..." she mutters.

Lucifer has posed:
Head --

    The head is prepared for Frankie to some degree-- the lashing tongue was meant to fend him off, though in this case is ill-timed, and ends up hitting Floyd hard, and only catching the edge of Frankie's leg. This doesn't stop Frankie's descent into the face, though, and the huge distended cheeks that separate further: protecting the cheek areas from the deep blows that hammer into the face's weird circle of teeth. The mouth is full of something, though --- objects. The head exhales, and Frankie is pelted with all manner of metal-like shapes. Gluttony had been tempting people with cursed money, jewelry, and storing it like a demented squirrel in the cheeks. Much of it is very sharp, when expelled at speed. It's not bullets, but it is... wealth shrapnel. In a sense, Frankie is being offered all sorts of a bribe right now, to tempt him. Take the jewels, take the money....? ...as it stabs you.

Right Hand -

    Juggernaut has effectively caught the ice-paralyzed hand, rolled it into a burrito of street, broken wires, debris. ... and fire. The infrastructure isn't prepared to be rolled into this shape, naturally, and electrical probelms explode out of the area. The hand is electrocuted and held, grasping uselessly at the moment. Slug blood-oozes out, and the hand starts to shrink, empty a little. It's still frozen, so this looks very effective: though not 'permanent'.

Torso

    The slugs don't seem to be learning their lesson-- though they do pause some, to gather more of them, before they make zig-zagging, chaotic runs towards trying to re-merge. There's too many for one person to handle, and the torso is large, but Rien is doing a lot to keep them at bay.

Ixbi blinks at Ducky. "Uh, yes. The boss LOVES me, don't let me be hurt," Ixbi says, definitely lying. Lucifer probably doesn't care about Ixbi much. Ducky, on her steed, goes straight towards the torso, then. The teeth of the ribs automatically react, and try to lift to snap at her, rib-teeth gaping, into a morass of acidic yuck between. The hellsteed snarls, breathing fire downward, twisting. Ducky's able to get in a slice of sword alongside the top chest of the torso then, and it shreds into the flesh there. Slugs pour out, disoriented, disconnected from the torso for the moment as they fly around and bump each other. The 'many' is in disarray.

Left Hand and Right Foot are nearly back, but Left Hand pauses to grab a Nissan and FLING it through the air at those flying around the torso. The car flips over twice, careening towards Rien and Ducky.

Camille Russo has posed:
The freezing is... helping. Good. She takes another turn on her borrowed steed, vials heading out at both feet again before she steers her hellsteed in the direction of the crowds, the streak of fire cutting between crowds and the vile pieces of the entity and driving them farther away from the demon. A cut across, and then a path back, each time moving them farther from the demon slug bits.

"Let's head back," she murmurs, unholstering her gun and flicking the safety off. As the circle back to the feet, she tugs lightly on a rein to freeze in mid-air, taking aim as her steed stops moving. Four shots ring out in succession, two stunning shots aimed at each foot.

John Constantine has posed:
Circle finished, John steps inside it. A smooth piece of black onyx, about the size of his fist is fished out of his pocket. Next, a silver dagger. Everyone should know where that second is going. He places the onyx at dead center of the circle. When one deals with circles as much as John Constantine does, they learn to make them perfect and to judge center.

He drags the silver dagger across his palm as he straightens. When those first drops of blood hit that black stone, the magic around him flairs in response.

So far nothing he's done has been strenuous - at least not physically so - but he's sweating.

Everything around him has faded into nothing, not even background noise - just silence. He's entered 'the zone', the point where concentration and intention are paramount and trump everything else.

John retrieves a small vial of holy water next. One drop, two, three - the reaction between his demonically tainted blood and the water cause a reaction in the stone that, in turn, causes the circle of salt to begin to glow. It starts softly, no brighter than a child's toy held under the light for a moment before turning the lights off.

Gradually the light gets brighter and grows until it's a dancing wall of blue flame. John raises his hands, palms up, fingers splayed.

He waits and waits - and waits as those blue flames get higher and higher - until they're nearly as tall as the magus himself.

Hold steady Rien.

"Exilium Hifazodhon, Dominus Multorum, In Abyssum Aeternum."
"Exilium Hifazodhon, Dominus Multorum, In Abyssum Aeternum"
"Exilium Hifazodhon, Dominus Multorum, In Abyssum Aeternum."

With each pass of the incantation, John's voice grows louder, more commanding until it reaches a volume that shouldn't be possible.

It's after the sixth pass that he gives that signal. What would normally be a whisper meant for sensitive ears, actually comes out as a shout, a booming shout. "NOW RIEN!"

The blue flames leap higher, a good three feet over his head.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
Barbara had just leapt off of the roof of the hardware store, and landed in a classic superhero poase, her armored suit giving her knees a bit of a break, since it has an internal skeletal system that increases her strength and durability by enough to help her manage this wild lifestyle. It still gives quite a kinetic punch to drop that far down to the ground, but the real shock comes in the form of the Juggernaut appearing, and addressing her, on his way to handle the ice hand. Her green eyes went up to him, and went huge behind her mask, as she clutched her Freeze rifle against her armored chest. She had met the Juggernaut before, when he had been scoping out Arkham Asylum one night, some time ago. They'd chatted, and he'd seem to lose interest in whatever had him staring longingly at the infamous asylum's walls.

She let him do his thing, in this instance, however, and shot back to the mouth of a nearby alley, as she pressed her back up against a brick wall. "It's all yours!" She shouted in his wake, as she shot a hand down to her gold utility belt, where she plucked for a small black puck, that's edges glowed with a sun-lit hue. The puck was slapped up against the power supply of the ice rifle, an instant connection made between the modifications Babs had done to the weapon, her portal charging device immediately beginning to pump more power in to the rifle's reserves; but it'd take a hot minute.

Babs watched the Juggernaut doing his thing, watching the power cables bursting sparks in all directions, and watched him wrapping it full within them, and seemingly everything else he could manage to utilize.

When more of those slugs came forth, Babs reached once more to her belt, and pulled an electrical shock batarang out, her hand snapping the thrown weapon forward, sending it twirling in a precise arch toward the creatures, splashing in to one's side, as it burst out a sphere of ball lightning that spread forth a good ten feet in diameter, before bursting like a bubble, shocking the literal shit out of anything that fell within its radius.

Frankenstein has posed:
As his flesh is pierced with objects of wealth, Frankenstein has almost enough time to ponder the irony. For though he feels very little pain as he's mercilessly pelted, he also has virtually no use for currency. No matter how much wealth he were to acquire, he would still be a monster. But it's likely that if he survives this battle, Frankenstein will walk away with a bit of unintended wealth embedded within his undying flesh, including the very fetching broach that has just gotten buried in his right eye socket, eliciting a 'Hrrrn...' of discomfort as The Creature collides with a truly enormous tongue.

His fall arrested by the squishy flesh of the demon's head, just as he planned, Frankenstein begins to give battle to the enemy, as is his custom. Sword gripped tightly in both hands, he begins hacking like a barbarian from ancient times, his face contorted into a savage grimace as bits of his green flesh fly away from his body under the fusillade of finery.

"Embrace death, foul beast, for the blade of Frankenstein will be your undoing!"

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien's been trying to help out while keeping herself largely 'free' around the torso. Waiting for something. She can feel it building, the power building and stacking and growing further. It's like air pressure behind the ears, if only for mystical senses.

Still, she's cognizant enough to notice the car flying at her and Ducky, sheeling her mount around and upward even as she tosses a telekinetic blast to help divert the vehicle away from other woman as well.

Up she flies, higher and higher, climbing towards what would be lethal altitude... if she weren't her. Just as she's reaching the apex, John's signal is heard and Rien does the dumbest, showiest thing possible.

She leaps off the back of the hellsteed and angles herself as a living magic missile towards the torso. Using that telekinesis to help guide her trajectory, Rien punches through the chest cavity and inside the demon itself. Catching herself as her bones mend and skin repairs from the damage of puncturing through a demon's skin and bone, she takes just a moment to orient herself.

Moving quickly, Rien reaches out and starts to carve a banishment spell into the demon itself, using her magic to keep it in place. The moment the last rune is in place, John can feel it. Rien lays a hand on the carved spell and opens herself up to the Hellblazer as a conduit. This is the part that's really going to hurt. Giving him the opportunity to push that spell, through her, and directly into the demon itself, adding the power of her own magic to his.

Atrice Duckstein has posed:
The more time Ducky spends around demons...the more strange things start to happen to her. But she'll figure that out later! The woman lather, rinses, repeats on the stabbing when she can. Those she looks a bit wide eyed with the Nissan flying her and Rien's way, "Oh shit, either dive or go up!" she tells the hell steed. "Ri...oh she's got it." she offers a thumbs up to the woman!

"If we don't die I'll buy you a cupcake. How does that sound Ixbi?" she asks as she gets ready to go around again.

Cain Marko has posed:
As a general rule - Juggernaut usually avoids doing 'business' in Gotham. Sometimes the urge strikes or the particulars of a job may carry him this way but there's a feeling of it being more trouble then its worth to contend with the defenders who call this city home.

But on occasion - changnig winds and wild whims can result in him passing through and though he doesn't speak to it - he does indeed remember Batgirl and his glance notes her initial trepidation at his arrival.

It's enough to make a guy smirk in bemusement.

Fire rages, electricity surges, the earth sunders and The Juggernaut remains unmoved and unbowed. The explosions caused by his own action wash and roll over him with the impact of a passing spring shower upon his flesh and armor and his attention remains rooted to that of the demonic hand as slugs begin to pour forth and the hand struggles to free itself form the prison the avatar had crafted out of the landscape.

As the creatures surge in all directions, Juggernaut turns about, grinding his heels into the ruined landscape as he spins and cranks an arm ...and then brings it down in a thunderous palm slap for the ruined landscape. His massive hand crashes into the earth and a shockwave, kicks off that sends the ground lurching violently, cars bouncing and the buildings shaking.

More fissures form, racing out from him as the sinkhole widens and the shockwave rolls forth in an attempt to flatten, disperse or otherwise crush the gathering slugs. Debris flies in every direction as if caught in a blast of hurricane winds and even so he acts with some restraint in consideration of comrades on the field.

"Got this hand covered!" he booms, "Who needs some help??"

Lucifer has posed:
The demon's aura has finally settled into the area. Much like a demon of hatred would cause fighting in his zone, this one... has a different tone.

Hifazodhon the Many is a Gluttony demon of the hardiest sort, able to take himself apart to spread his influence. An influence that is rooted in an unnatural level of ambition. And that is the feeling in this area: to want more. Unhappy with the current amounts... to want something that you do not need. A clawing, restless wanting: and therein, a feeling of lacking.

Never being enough. And maybe that can hit a number of hearts here: Not being 'human' enough. Not being 'strong' enough. Not having the right words, or the right ability, or enough smarts. This demon wanted, so deeply, to be more than it was: to get beyond hell, to be MORE.

Maybe if it could be more, it could be better...

This fuels it, makes it redouble efforts, to grasp and 'want'. Though having Rien inside it isn't something it wants.

Having electricity explode and disable the right hand entirely isn't what it wanted. Having somebody Frankie-shaped carving holes inside its head isn't what it wanted from this.

That helplessness is the real pain for this demon... that it can't get anything it does want. In a last effort, it attempts to unleash acid upon Rien, trying to destroy her, melt her, in the tomb of it's body. It WANTS to eat her... and it often does get to eat what it wants. She may have only seconds, and will need to make them count.

John Constantine has posed:
"Exilium Hifazodhon, Dominus Multorum, In Abyssum Aeternum!"

One last time, this time John's voice is downright thunderous. Those blue flames shoot upward in a cyclone of swirling light - straight into the sky only to arc and come back down again. Through Rien into the sigils and runes and straight into the belly of the beast - literally.

The passing of the flames through the air was quick, a beat or two maybe, but the sound and disturbance of nearly caused damage in the area to match that of the Juggernaut. Waves ripple outward from the cyclone of blinding bright light - swirling and twirling and picking up bits of slug and demon matter along the way - most of it stays inside, some of it gets shredded and spit back out again.

That's a *lot* of magic, it's something that can be felt by mystics throughout the city and, perhaps, further. The blinding funnel of blue light can be seen for miles.

That's a *lot* of magic.

Even with Rien's help, with that amplification - it's still a lot.

When it's over, the wall of flames is gone and John Constantine is on his knees in the center of a burned circle of salt - covered in his own sweat.

Bollocks - he needs a bath and some sleep.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
The destruction that Juggernaut was capable of dishing out was a sight to behold, but sadly there was a lot to be beheld in this developing situation, and as the big guy seemed to be capable beyond her, Babs slung the charging ice rifle back over her shoulder, pulled her grapple gun from her belt, and shot it skyward. She was gone a second later, back in the air, having used the grapple to sling shot her form in to the space above the building beside the hardware store. Her cape returned to its glide state, and with it she swept across the sky, to find a perch atop a water tower on a neighboring building. Her green eyes scanned the park, the library, and the chaos still taking place.

"Constantine?" Batgirl's voice came over the comms, "I really hope you, and your friends here, have a solution for whatever this is. I'm not sure ice, and some seriously impressive muscles, are going to do the trick alone."

She could see there were others at-play in the other parts of the demonic formation, but what was going to stop this T1000 from just repeating its creation again?

Apparently a hell of a lot of blue flame. As Babs was crouched on top of a high ground position, she watched the spell (was it a spell? She didn't know!) play out, with a mouthed 'wow' coming from her lips. Her cape fluttered in the wind behind her back, and when the light died down, Babs was scanning the streets for any signs of civilians in trouble.

Frankenstein has posed:
Though he isn't especially susceptible to physical pain, there's certainly one type which Frankenstein has had a lifetime to experience. The sudden longing for acceptance that he knows will never come, the desire to walk carelessly in the daylight, the urge to hold a hand that doesn't recoil in horror. All these longings give him more pain than having chunks of his flesh sheared off.

But though he's holding up admirably under the onslaught, Frank is starting to look a little ragged. New holes have appeared in his coat and breastplate, and large sections of his skin are simply no longer there, exposing the muscle beneath it. In many of these cases, odd coins, antique jewelry, and even random gemstones have been embedded so deep within his flesh that it's going to take someone back at S.H.A.D.E. quite a long time to pull them all back out.

But just when it seems that he's about to be ripped to shreds, he gets a sudden assist from a source that would ordinarily cause him to recoil in abject terror.

Fire from above descends down upon the squishy sack of wriggling flesh, narrowly avoiding Frankenstein in a display of skill that would make certain human torches proud. The savage death whinny of a flying hellsteed can be heard, batlike wings flapping furiously.

"Ha! Well done Floyd!"

Atrice Duckstein has posed:
John and Rien are channeling are big magic and Ducky is going in to stab wherever she can help. Ixbi is in the saddle with her as he said that he was LOVED by the boss. So of course Ducky isn't letting anything happen to that imp. She guides the steed to the foot where she delivers another round of Nephilim bloodied steel to the fleshy parts of it.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Exilium Hifazodhon, Dominus Multorum, In Abyssum Aeternum!"

The words echo from John, the power flowing up and out, then back down and in and THROUGH Rien. Her voice is his voice, echoing the banishment to reverberate within the belly of the Beast (literally). The power flows, and while magic is often fast, it still takes time for it to enter, be added to, and flow out of her to power this spell.

The drips of acid hitting skin and cloth are the first signs that she's running out of time. A few drops, then patters, splashing... its going to get worse. Being digested alive as they attempt to banish the demon lord back from whence it came... this is actually legit what she signed up for!

She's holding out until the last possible second, letting every bit of that magical energy flow through and into the spell. As John collapses onto the ground, Rien shrieks as the last of the spell's energy is used. Turning, she strikes out, tunneling her way THROUGH the side of the Demon's torso like some demented version of Jonah and the Whale.

Slicing and shredding demon hide is, thankfully, something her claws are MADE for, so she manages to get through the last bit of resistance, spilling out onto the ground in a horrific melange of demonic stomach acids, ichor, blood, bits of flesh... and the half-eaten magi-mutant. She gasps in a huge lungful of air through lips already reforming, down a burned throat and into lungs still rebuilding. She's far from a pretty sight, the steam of acid eating through wisping up all around her, skin and muscle and bone all visible at various points. To those morbidly curious... yes, ALL of her skeleton has that blue magical glow on it.

She's going to need a moment.

Cain Marko has posed:
Juggernaut had just wrestled with this. Not a handful of weeks ago and .just the other evening when visiting his brother. The need for more. More power to protect himself, to face his enemies, to enact retribution, to be considered worthy. He'd wrestled with this and had been failing, manipulated by others into a gambit that would hav seen his power twisted into an unrelenting monster of the truest sort. The influence of this demon over the area digs into him. The ambition necessary to use his power to its fullest extent ..the desire to prove himself to others. It all digs in...

And Juggernaut grits his teeth and weathers it and pushes on. The armor may be assisting - it does grant protection from sorcery and magical influences - but it's not absolute...and the emotional pangs still resonate.

Ultimately, he focuses. The hand and the slugs near it seemingly in hand, Juggernaut turns his attention to the rest of the battlefield just in time to see Barbara take off for a new position - and in the wake of that to see the area light up from the fury of the light that washes over the area as the mystical efforts begin to yield spectacular results.

He reaches a hand up to shield his eyes and then, once his eye sight has adjusted, begins to step away from the ruins of the hardware store and starts to make his way back into the park in search of comrades to assist and then begins to move as rapidly as possible towards Rien's position as she spills back onto the ground in that hellish condition. "Good grief!"

Lucifer has posed:
The power conduit through from the separate location that John created fires into Rien, deep inside the protected area of the demon lord. Hifazodhon pulses and heaves, as the energy hooks into and begins to drag his most vital and important organ--his stomach-- towards banishment. He goes berserk, fighting as much as he can, rolling over towards Rien-- fortunately the Juggernaut is there, and can pull her out of the way from being rolled OVER ONTO and crushed under a bloated case of slugs and stomach acid!

With a pressure of magic, though, the stomach alights in blue... and is forced, harshly, back to wence it came from. Each limb shudders like a spider, the slugs falling off of it heavily... then not as heavily, as it starts to turn into a darkened ash.

All of the cursed items flare with their caustic demonic power, burning softly -- many of them in Frankie's body, or the hands of people all OVER the city, people who had fallen prey to the offers of Hifazodhon.

But then, the Gluttony demon falls into decay, and the truck the left hand had been about to throw falls to the street backwards, with a crashing lurch.

The city is left to the sounds of horns, screaming, fires... but no more of that horrible stomach growling, or the screeches of the slugs.

John Constantine has posed:
John pushes himself to his feet, sways on them a moment - get his feet beneath him proper and...

Lights a Silk Cut - of course he does.

For a long few moments he just stands there. When he finally comes out from behind his dumpster to get a look at all the destruction, he mutters, "That didn't go half as bad as I thought it bloody would."

Everyone's still alive - battered, exhausted but not beaten.

Clean up? That's not his job. Dealing with panicked civilians? That's nowhere near within his wheelhouse.

Picking his way carefully over the ruined landscape, he makes his way toward Rien. "Thanks, luv," he offers - making no comment about her appearance. He's been there and it's never fun to have someone point out how horrible he looks. "Drinks at the pub after you're all finished, er, putting yourself back together?"

Drinks at the bar to celebrate their victory and the end of another day ending in Y?

"Poppet!" he calls out. Of course Camille will get the same invite, as will Cain.

Drinks for all! On the house. He'll worry about profit margins another night - when they haven't just finished battling a demon or other such madness.

It's likely the day will never come that John worries about his profit margins.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
It wasn't long after that wizard fire subsided, that Babs heard a melodic ring of her rifle being fully charged by her Sun Puck. She leapt from her high point, and swept through the air upon the wings of her glider. When she landed, she emerged from the alley along the side street, giving the freeze gun another charging pump with her gloved hands. The rifle sprung to life once more, as Batgirl marched down the side street, blasting what remained of the Blood Slugs, her cape flowing in the wind behind her, and her messy red hair waving around her shoulders.

Spherical discharges of icy death launched toward slug after slug, as Babs worked her way past several cowering civilian clusters.

"Is that Batman, Dad?" One small child asked, as Batgirl marched past them, utilizing her rifle to cause one of the Blood Slugs to burst in to a thousand tiny shards upon the sidewalk, beneath a kick from Batgirl's armored boot.

"That is definitely not Batman, son." The father shot back, as he pushed his boy inside the back seat of the vehicle they were taking cover behind.

When the remnants of this demonic invasion subsided, Barbara stood beside a city repair vehicle, her rifle emitting tendrils of steam from its barrel's tip, as she raised it up to lay it over her right shoulder. She scanned the park, her green eyes staring at the ruin left in this situation's wake.

"I have so many questions." Batgirl said, over comms, and just in general.

Atrice Duckstein has posed:
Ducky guides the steed to land and she unceremoniously falls off of it. Woozy from the blood loss. "Yeah...almost transfusion time again." she breathes out. There is a moment taken to find her phone and text Kaine. Because if he was at her apartment she didn't want to show up bloody and not warn him. "Good job team!" she calls as she gets to her feet and then brushes herself off before she wraps her wound.

"Wait...where did the little guy get off to?" she frowns. Oh no! "I'll just eat his cupcake." she shrugs to that. Then she moves to intercept the first responders that might show up...because oh boy was this a lot to explain!

Frankenstein has posed:
As the cursed treasures within his flesh begin to burn, Frankenstein feels pain of a more literal sort. This is nothing he can shrug off with one of his normal 'Hrrrn's'. No, as dozens of trinkets burn within his face, torso, and limbs, the Agent of S.H.A.D.E. finds himself hunching forward and letting out a 'HRRRRRRRRRRRRRN!' which can be heard halfway around the block. At least if anyone was paying attention to his personal struggles rather than fleeing for their lives.

Covered once again in demonic viscera, and missing pieces of his body, Frankenstein has lived once again despite the odds.

A new friend lands behind him, causing Frankenstein to turn, and straighten up his posture as best as he can. The pain is beginning to fade away, though unfortunately his demonic blood is causing the flesh to reknit over top of the embedded bits of metal. That will be fun to sort out later.

He looks as Floyd approaches, and pats the hellsteed on the side of its face with a gentleness that might be surprising from such a monstrosity.

"We must part now, Floyd. For you belong in Hell, and I have no desire to care for a pet."

The horse snorts. Little bits of flame erupt.

"But know that you have gained an ally this day. For the memory of Frankenstein is as long as his undying lifespan. Never let it be said..."

And the horse has beat its wings, and is flying off back to whatever hell it came from.

"Hrrrn.... Frankenstein to HQ. Send the van to my location, I tire of standing here covered in filth."

Cain Marko has posed:
Sickening demonic acid belches forth, splashing in every direction, burning the ground and making the air rancid - and Juggernaut endures. The acid boils against his back as he interposes himself beween Rien and the monstrosity and both of his arms spread out from his sides as his body braces against it's crushing weight.

His eyes flash, crackling with crimson energy as he twists, preparing to turn and send a fist hurtling for the demon---but then it is demanifesting! He feels it's disgusting weight and gross presence lifting up off of him both physically and mystically and he holds his position...and then slowly opens his fist.

"Don't think me savin' you was anythin' special." he rumbles to Rien while thumbing over his shoulder towards Frankenstein's positon.

"It was either you or the green guy. Heads vs Tails."

He gives her a coy smirk and then starts to step away to leave her to her recovery.

"Nice sword." he offers towards Frankie before turning and starting for the edge of the battlefield.

Camille Russo has posed:
She sways on horseback as the wave of magic is felt, and Cam turns the hellsteed sharply, gliding to a stop a few feet short of John and Rien. Her scramble down is graceless, but she gives the steed a careful pat once she's down, thanking it and crossing her arms as she looks them both over. "I swear John, you're gonna give me a full head of grey before I turn thirty." She slips an arm around the man, offering silent support. "You're not allowed to pass out until we're back at the Magician, or I'm gonna ask Mr. Cain to carry you in the most embarrassing way possible. Sack of potatoes, bridal, dangling by an ankle maybe."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Scooped up and held safely in the giant fist of the Juggernaut, Rien manages to look a LITTLE less worse for wear by the time he releases her back to the ground. She coughs, gags, then spits out a wad of nasty dark ash from a chunk of Hifazodhon that had gotten inside her during her rushed exodus from it's body cavity.

She manages a grotesque half-smile and mutters, "Of course... it isn't like you like me or anything. Just... convenience, I was closer." Smiling fondly after the crimson behemoth when he heads out.

She looks to John at his approach and he can SEE the damage that's slowly knitting itself back together. Muscles that are building out bit by bit, as if she were being 3-D printed in real time. "You know me, cher, I'm always down for being eaten." Giving a nod, she straightens as best she can, "I will absolutely take you up on that. Also, let's not do that again for awhile."

Rien looks to Camille and lets out a laugh, "Thanks, chere, I'm just fine. Worrying about Constantine is a futile effort. He always survives, and he will never stop doing what he does." Turning, she opens up a portal, "Now if you will all excuse me... I'm gonna... go lay down until my muscles regenerate. Standing hurts." With little fanfare, she floats through the portal and lets it close behind her.