11023/The enemy of my enemy

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The enemy of my enemy
Date of Scene: 04 May 2022
Location: Alleyways: Brooklyn
Synopsis: Robbie saves his nemesis from an untimely demise at the hands of another demon.
Cast of Characters: Hayal, Robbie Reyes




Hayal has posed:
Just as Hayal hunts demons, there are other beings that prey on magic and the angelic. A wounded angel is like catnip to these creatures, and some of them have found Hayal. Usually he'd be up and away in a heartbeat, but he's physical enough that wounds hurt and drain his energy. A moment taken to rest was time enough for them to take him.

Now it's his turn to writhe under a weapon intended for his kind. A ruined warehouse near the docks, not entirely sealed off, has become a makeshift sorcerer's den. The stained concrete floor is covered with arcane sigils in chalk and paint, and in the center of the ring they outline, the angel is pinned like a butterfly in some collector's display. Spikes of some softly shining blue metal pierce through wrist, leg, pinions and right where a human's heart would be.

There are human figures present there, most of them bent over him, like a pack of wolves tearing at a downed deer. They seems to be doing various little things to him - experiments, tests, extractions. Some of the equipment even seems scientific, rather than occult.

But at the head of the circle stands a tall, gaunt man, wrapped in a faded coat. The light in the room seems to flinch away from him, leaving him looking like a black and white character inserted into a color film. It's him the angel regards with genuine horror as he struggles, ignoring the others around him.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Under cover of darkness, a vehicle glides to a halt at the mouth of the docks. The engine cuts out with an agitated rumble, and the wash of taillights over the rotting pier melts away as the LEDs wink out.

Swinging out, gloved hand on the door, the young man pauses a moment as if to read the air. He's certain this is the place; he can practically smell them.

Slamming the door, he tosses a coiled length of chain across his shoulder and prowls not for the warehouse entrance, but a fire escape leading to an access point on the second floor. Up he goes, two stairs at a time, then leaping to grab the rung above him so he can swing and land solidly on the narrow platform at the top. Sneaking's not usually his M.O., but there's something else here. Something familiar; and it makes him more cautious than usual.

Grasping the rusted handle of the door, he forces it open with a sharp shove, snapping the lock like a matchstick. Once he's inside, Robbie's careful to keep to the shadows while he takes the lay of the land; and squints slightly to try to spot what's going on down there. Is that.. it couldn't be.

Hayal has posed:
Oh, but it is. As Robbie observes, it's clearer that the humans huddled around him are under the influence of the man in the dark coat. He's pale and dark-eyed, handsome in an entirely forgettable way, but to the Rider, it's clear that this isn't a mere human, or even someone possessed. It's something no more human than the figure pinned to the floor, merely wearing a human semblance.

It speaks to the angel, and its voice is horrible, words like bone grating against bone. But there's tone enough to his speech to make it clear he's taunting the demon hunter. It's also clear that Hayal is *afraid*. Afraid enough to ignore the young woman busily stripping feathers from one wing and depositing them in a sack.

There are a handful of young men, with the tattered look of real street punks, trying to stand some sort of guard. A few have pistols, and one even has a shotgun, but they're all watching the show rather than really tending the perimeter. Watching with a wolfish avidity, like dogs waiting for their master to drop a crumb from the table.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Crouched in his little hiding spot in the shadows, Robbie has a decently good vantage point on the proceedings, and the winged creature at the centre of them. This, presumably, would be his opportunity to turn his back, slink out that door, pretend like he was never here. Let his angel problem take care of itself.

But that isn't what he's going to do. Not because he has some sort of bleeding heart for the creature (he doesn't). But because he came looking for blood tonight, and blood's what he's going to get.

He slings the chain off his shoulder and starts winding the end of it tightly around his gloved hand. Eyes on the woman plucking feathers and dropping them in a bag, then the one in the dark coat, where his gaze remains. Yeah. He's gonna save that one for last.

There's a sudden crash then, as he leaps down to the lower floor, and tumbles a couple of times before springing to his feet. The punk nearest him takes a set of chained knuckles to the teeth, and Robbie's hand comes away covered in blood and brain matter. The other man topples to the floor, and his stunned buddy gets a roundhouse kick to the gut, sending him crashing through a stack of crates.

Hayal has posed:
The remaining two would be guards round on Robbie, and the one with the shotgun has presence of mind enough to fire. His aim is even pretty good. The other is gobsmacked enough to only bring his pistol up slowly.

The circle of those around the angel bring their heads up in unison, a herd of startled horses, and then they're scattering. Scattering with a peculiar care, making sure to step carefully amongst the circles and symbols on the floor, lest they disturb them. Some of them are clearly going for weapons hidden nearby, a few just fleeing.

But the man in the dark coat turns with a sort of relaxed deliberation to face the Rider. The eyes in their dark sockets have begun to blaze with a familiar kind of fire, and his expression has turned amused. "This one," he says, slowly, "Is mine. I caught him, get your own. Or...if you want to help my servants, maybe I'll leave you the rags."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Who the actual fuck is this dude? Robbie spends a confused second or two poised there, chain in hand, watching as the guy's eyes light up with the same fire as his own.

But the moment's distraction is just long enough for the asshole with the shotgun to put a couple of slugs into him. The first rips through his shoulder; the second tears his carotid open in a wet spray of blood. A sharp snarl of pain is forced through his bared teeth, and his eyes light up with the same hellfire as the man in the coat as he turns to look at who shot him. And starts to approach the poor, misguided fool at a slow prowl. He takes another slug to the chest, and one to the thigh; the second one exposes bone for a fraction of a second before the flesh knits itself back together again. Still he keeps moving, in no particular hurry to reach his prey, even as others find their weapons and begin pelting him with bullets.

"You," he tells the man in the coat, as he comes nose to nose with the shaking kid who's now out of shotgun ammunition, "wait your turn." And then he wraps a gloved hand around his throat, and the guy goes up like a pyre, his screams continuing long after the flesh has started to melt off his bones.

Hayal has posed:
The man in the dark coat merely watches, though as Robbie's eyes start to glow, his brows go up. He doesn't seem particularly shocked, but rather intrigued. His tone is amused, almost indulgent. "Really? Giving orders to me? You must be new here. Do you intend to destroy all my servants? Or just the particularly stupid ones?"

The way Robbie simply immolates the boy only makes his brows arch further. "Goodness," he says, and for all he speaks clear English, his voice still has that awful note in it. "Look at you."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
A couple of his 'servants' have wisely fucked off, probably deciding they want no part of trying to go up against a.. thing who can light them on fire. But two of them are still firing on him, determined to believe that if they just put enough bullets in the kid, they might be able to take him down.

Roaring his anger and pain at the continued assault, Robbie turns on the one with the pistol first. Whipping his chain around in a vicious backhand that takes his head clean off. Mid-swing, he lights the chain on fire and snaps his wrist to alter its trajectory, disarming the second guy with his uzi and sending it crashing through a window. Then on the third swing, the chain's length coils around his midsection and lights him on fire, too. With a hard jerk, the guy's body disintegrates onto the floor and Robbie walks slowly toward the demon, dragging the end of the chain on the ground after him.

"What's he to you?" He keeps his.. well, hollow, burning pits where his eyes once were, on the 'man', though jerks his chin in Hayal's direction.

Hayal has posed:
The man holds up a hand, one finger extended, as if to admonish Robbie. But at the tip of the forefinger is the merest glint of greenish flame. It's a sickly color compared to the glow of Robbie's hellfire. It creeps over him slowly, but does not burn away his flesh. No firelit skull like a Rider. He simply stands and burns, filling the room with that eerie light. It renders the spilled blood black, shimmers over the feathers of the angel sprawled on the floor. The drawn circles that surround Hayal also glow, albeit in subtle, oily colors.

"Since we're wearing our real selves for this conversation," he says, lazily. "He's my job. Those," the now cadaverous face turns as he nods at the pinned demon hunter, "Are a perpetual annoyance. They never stop showing up here, as if they really made a difference. But they can be useful when you catch them and take them apart. And you? You've never tasted one, I take it."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie's no stranger to demons in other guises, things of pure nightmare given form. He's sent a fair few of them back to Hell, as it happens. The boy prowls closer, nostrils flared like a bull about to charge, and the chain wound around his hand given a slow twist to wrap it tighter.

He holds the other creature's gaze steadily, and when it mentions 'real selves', there's a metallic shriek comingled with a snarl of pain as his face starts to rip open and ignite. In mere seconds, all that remains is the skull with its steel plating, sparks and ash billowing out of several narrow vents, and all of it on fire.

"You talk too much," the voice hisses, like metal melting. "I will enjoy making you suffer." He attempts to snatch a handful of the demon's coat, and haul him in closer.

Hayal has posed:
Now the demon looks indignant, jerking up his chin. "How dare you!" he hisses, and his mouth is too full of sharp teeth. But he's genuinely not expecting Robbie to lay hands on him. Not at all.

Which is why he's raising a palm to try and shove a handful of that sickly green fire in the Rider's face. "Suffer? Suffer! If there's anyone here besides that obscenity who's going to do any suffering, it'll be you, you little upstart."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
The fireball slams into the Ghost Rider's armoured cheek, exploding on impact. The demon doesn't so much as flinch, or pause in its approach. If anything, its own flames burn hotter; its eyes become black, smoking pits as it twists a gloved handful of the other creature's clothing, and hauls it right off its feet.

"Go back where you came from," growls the demon in the steel mask; and what follows can only be described as torture. The thing isn't destroyed outright, but instead made to relive every terrible thing it's ever done to anyone in excruciating detail-- as if they're happening to it. It's enough to make most mortals lose their minds, and eventually either die or find a way to kill themselves. A few have gone permanently mad from it.

Hayal has posed:
.....It isn't supposed to work like that. The demon's expression turns astonished, fanged mouth a round O of shock, as he's lifted off his feet like some errant Rebel fallen into Vader's clutches.

Then he's screaming, and it's a terrible sound. Like metal shearing, but it goes on and on and on, beyond what a mortal's breath could sustain. He starts to lose his form, though Robbie does not lose his grip on him. After moments, the green demoni is only a shifting pillar of viridian fire, generating smoke in pulsing waves that reek of rot.

A pillar that dwindles and dwindles and dwindles, the sound and smoke diminishing along with it, until there's a last green spark caged in Robbie's fingers that promptly goes out.

The human minions that aren't dead seem to have fled. Now it's only Robbie and the angel still pinned to the floor.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
The Rider.. well, he's clearly *enjoying* this. The more his prey screams, the brighter and brighter he burns. Rage and sadistic pleasure; the transgressions of this creature are like sustenance to the Sin Eater. At last, he holds the spark in a gloved hand, and watches it sputter and die.. before turning back to the angel still pinned to the floor.

With the demon sated, the fire goes out and Robbie's left there alone, panting, as his burned and ruined flesh starts to reform. Then he turns to approach Hayal, picking his way closer carefully while slinging the chain over his shoulder.

Hayal has posed:
He doesn't *have* to breathe, so Hayal isn't. The only hint that he's not actually dead is the way his eyes roll to focus on Robbie as he approaches. Eyes that betray his inhumanity - there's a limitless weary patience in his stare. Just waiting to see what Robbie and his passenger will do.

The circle's been besmirched by blood, so there's no tingle of magical energy as the Rider approaches it. But those metal rods are still in place, and as Robbie gets closer, he can see how the flesh around them smolders softly.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
He could leave him here to suffer, for however long a creature like he is capable of. Or until someone else with the ability stumbles upon him and destroys him. Certainly, it's what the Rider wants; and possibly what Hayal deserves, after what he's done to the boy. But Robbie, corrupted as he's been by the demon's influence, still has enough humanity to reject this idea.

Instead, he starts pulling out the metal spikes one after the next with a grunt of effort. They're tossed to the ground, and he steps over Hayal's body to reach those at the pinions of his wings, flinging those to the side as well. Not a word's spoken throughout.

Hayal has posed:
The angel watches this warily, brow furrowing just a little. The removal of the spikes makes him close his eyes tightly, but there's no sound from him, even though it has to be painful. As they're removed, the wounds left by them don't heal immediately; they're still scarlet and black marks.

Freed, Hayal sits up, looking almost dizzy. Then he raises his eyes to Robbie and asks, voice hoarse, "Can you destroy those?" It's clearly a plea.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
The boy meets that gaze steadily, his own expression hard, and that tiny curl of his upper lip like he might lunge and bite if Hayal tries to get too close.

His voice is a low, scratchy scrawl in the spotty dark, "You and me.. don't think this makes us friends." He runs his tonguetip along his lower lip, then looks away, to the spikes scattered nearby. Assuming they burn? Then they're going to be a smoking heap in a matter of seconds.

Once he's done, the kid sends Hayal a backwards glance over his shoulder, and starts plodding for the exit without another word.

Hayal has posed:
Burn they do, with a smoky, sullen fire tinged with green. The scent of hot metal is awful. The angel's voice is clearer now, if weaker than is his wont, as he replies, "I understand. Thank you, nonetheless."

Sitting up, however, was apparently more than he had in him, for Hayal simply topples to the side. Conscious, enough to move a little, though not enough to actually get him anywhere. The way he pushes awkwardly at the concrete floor with one foot is all too reminiscent of an animal twitching in a snare. The strain in his voice is nearly gone, though, as he notes, "I did not expect mercy from you."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"Save it," Reyes tosses back, watching the fair-haired creature once more as he reaches the door, then hauling it open and disappearing into the night.