12885/Modern-Day Relic

Modern-Day Relic
Date of Scene:	25 September 2022
Location:	Middle of the Desert, Somewhere in Mexico
Synopsis:	Phoebe uses HOLY LIGHT to make a solar forge for Hellboy to smack some stuff around somewhere in Mexico. The combination of so many holy elements in one place attracts another demon who possesses the helicopter pilot. Phoebe wins the day and Hellboy carries her home on foot...through a portal.
Cast of Characters:	Hellboy, Phoebe Beacon

---

Hellboy has posed:
    One of the benefits of knowing sign language is that when one is in a noisy helicopter, one can still communicate. Hellboy pulled strings and tossed a bit of money around to get Phoebe and himself flown on several private forms of transport from New York across the USA and across the border into Mexico. Parts of that were in the helicopter, where Hellboy could talk to Phoebe. Those with them likely assumed they were talking about secret spy stuff, or maybe even demon stuff, but Hellboy was just asking Phoebe how life was, what her favorite pizza toppings were, normal conversation.
    Now landed, the pair was deep in the desert in the middle of nowhere. The only thing that was certain was that it was bright and sunny, the sky was completely clear, they were in the desert so that wasn't likely to change, and they were somewhere in Mexico. As the helicopter's rotor spun down, pilot remaining on standby, Hellboy signed.
    -Can you sense any spirits? Demonic, ghostly, anything? Last thing we need right now is all this work to be undone.- Everything they were going to work with was in an armored backpack on the demon's back. He was dressed to forge, but he had very little protective gear. He was immune to fire, what did he care? Besides, nobody was about to hurt the Right Hand of Doom no matter what they were doing, let alone a little tap with a forging hammer.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    This continues to be one of the most exhausting weeks of Phoebe's existence, but when Red asked her to help him, she couldn't say no. They're in too deep. Her hearing still required protection (she was sensitive to that) and she wore the heavy headset to hear their pilot wore a pair of peach sunglasses with dark lenses to keep her Air of Mystery. Really, it wouldn't do to have everyone recognize the Wayne heir everywhere, especially hanging out with Hellboy.

    She had answered back about how tired she was. She was in talks with a demonologist/exorcist to help with a long issue and how she accidentally ended up winning a duck from a nut festival in upstate New Jersey whose name was Hazelduck and she was having A Time figuring out what to do with the duck. And her favorite pizza topping was mushrooms and peppers, and spicy vegetables. There was a shop in Gotham that had Spicy Kimchi pizza that she loved.

    He would also find out that Phoebe was *terrified* of flight, and going up and coming down she held tightly to Red, while looking rather green around the gills.

    As she came out though, she set her own go bag down, and she applied a ballcap to her head as she looked over the desert, and then she shakes her head.

    -Ambient magics. Not a lot to work with for a city girl like me- she joked.

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy had, of course, held her and promised to keep her safe. From many people, that wouldn't mean much, but Red was a demon of his word, it seemed. In any event, they'd gotten there safely, now, and he nods as she explains jovially about the situation around them. -Good,- he signs. -You sense anything, let me know. We're probably going to piss off the local rotting hordes when we start forging with holy and starbound materials.-
    He walks into the desert, away from the chopper. The whirlybird was getting quieter with each minute that passed. Pulling his things from his bag, Hellboy sets out:

- A rough chunk of what looked like pure iron.
- An urn.
- A container of sanctified oil.
- A few drinking bottles filled with holy water.

    Hellboy has everything out within about ten meters of a large, flat rock native to the desert. Still wearing his huge, nebulous coat, Hellboy pulls that device from one of his pockets that he's been using to test light of various people. He uses it to take readings on the rock. He seems satisfied with the readings, so he takes off his coat and tosses it aside. "You good with the light, here?" he asks. He starts pulling his shirt up and off, tossing it onto his coat. No sense causing fires.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    -Oh good. I love pissing off rotten hordes on a Sunday afternoon- is Phoebe's deadpan response, her face going absolutely flat, and then she brings her hands down as she grabs her bag and follows Hellboy.

    Phoebe looks at each item in turn -- cold iron, an urn (AN URN?!), sanctified oil and drinking bottles. She could feel the Holy coming off those.

    -You know I can make that, right?- she signs to the big guy, and she gives him a soft knock on the shoulder in passing as she looked at the device delivering the readings and then -- uh... Red begins to disrobe. She's very glad that she's wearing sunglasses with dark lenses, though her eyebrows go up.

    She's touch-avoidant, not dead. And she takes a breath, gives a puff of air out and looks up to the blue sky.

    -Red. I *AM* The Light. Almost Literally.-

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy smirks. "Yeah, yeah," he says. He's not taking his pants off, but he does have his rosary in hand when he takes one of the bottles of holy water. "Give me a little holy light, then," he says as he approaches that rock. He begins to sprinkle some over it as he starts saying prayer in latin, holding up the rosary's tiny cross.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    She can't be too sure. She spent time with the facsimile of a magician who could at any point in the day be pantsless for any variety of reasons.

    And as he approaches the rock, she turns and looks over, and she looks to her hands.

    Last time she made anything Big and Weapony, it got turned over to her enemies.

    BUt she brings her hands up, cradling the air as she closes her eyes. Her fingertips and palms glow, her magic circle -- an eight-pointed star of intersecting squares, its geometry surrounded by hieroglyphs, forms on the backs of her hands as she calls forth her own Light.

    It forms a ball of rose-gold and white, swirling slightly between her palms, about the size of a softball.

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy isn't about to steal that, though he does get a little distracted by it. The demon isn't wearing shades. When one regenerates from damage, it becomes less of a priority. He usually only does it to look cool. That IS a priority. He sprinkles his holy water all over the rock in the holy light of the Phoebe. Soon, he seems satisfied. "Alright," he says. Looking over at Phoebe, he says, "I want you to bring the full force of the sun down on the top of that rock. Enough to melt steel, if not the rock itself." To be fair, he really did need a good working surface. Maybe he should have brought fire brick or something.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Shades are very important for looking cool.

    Phoebe gives A Look over to Hellboy, and she shifts her stance. This is something she's not done before. Being Light was one thing, Controlling it? Eeeeeeh...

    Especially with heat.

    But she takes a breath, she focuses, and she feels the warmth prickle over her palms a sshe brings The Heat as well, evocations for fire, drawing in the brillance of the Sun and blending it with her own light, feeling her skin begin to sizzle.

    She wouldn't be able to do this in a fight -- or very often -- but she holds the heat and light in a coke-can width cylinder, struggling to hold it in place!

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy grabs the iron and the urn and brings both over. He sets the urn at his feet and sets the iron in the fiery blaze Phoebe has constructed. It quickly begins to turn red, warming past that into orange and even yellow. Holding it with his left hand, Hellboy works quickly, smashing his Right Hand of Doom down onto it to start to work it. Every once in a while he changes hands, sprinkling ashes from the urn into it before folding the iron over with brute strength and hammering at it again.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Ashes adding carbon to the iron, making it stronger, 'steeling' resolve. Phoebe keeps her focus up, her shoulders shaking slightly as she stretches her hands, her fingers curling as she winces visibly.

Hellboy has posed:
    After getting it about as well-worked as he can, Hellboy opens the sanctified oil and drops the whole chunk of iron into it. He looks over at Phoebe and says, "Okay, kid, take five!" He jogs over to her, not touching her, but ready to catch her if she falls from her exertion.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Yep. Five. Good show.

    Phoebe halts her focus of the sun's light, and just sort of... teeters. And then finally waves Red off entirely before she turns and upsets the desert landscape. Blerugh.

    She digs into her own pack and pulls out her water bottle, opens the cap, swishes and spits, and then drinks the water down.

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy stays close to her. He's significantly less roughed-up by the heat than she is, but he does collect his big coat. He then holds his arm out and makes a shade for her. "You alright, kid?" he asks.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    -Used up a lot of gusto flooding a woods in the Upper Catskills on Saturday.- Phoebe signs back, plopping down and waving Hellboy off. -I'm Egyptian. I can handle a little South West Heat.- she states, even though it's humerous to have a very large, demony looking fellow coat-ily shade her.

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy nods and kneels next to her, keeping his pseudo-tent arm up with his coat draped over it. He does care about keeping Phoebe safe, it seems. "Well, you did good. I don't think holy energy wears off, so you take your time, and we'll get back in the air as soon as you're ready."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Yes, because immediately what Phoebe wants is a queazy ride on the helicopter again.

    -I'm fine to continue when you're up for it. Gotta make steel while the sun shines, right?- she signs back over to him, her eyebros rising before she takes off her hat and fans herself with it a little bit.

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy smiles at Phoebe. "Hey," he says, "don't sweat it. We've done what we planned on." He gestures at the container of oil. "Got a lump of the holiest starmetal, psychometrics in tact. You did good, kid." He tries to brighten his smile, but it looks a little unnatural on him. Not that he doesn't smile, but that mug of his is...well...a mug.
    However, Hellboy's smile fades when he hears the helicopter's rotors starting to spin back up. "Guess he figures we're done, too," the demon says. He puts his coat on, removing the shade from Phoebe. "Come on, kid," he says, more loudly, scooping up the container of sanctified oil, steel and all, and screwing the top on. He slings it over his shoulder before he continues, "Let's get packed up so we have enough gas to--" The helicopter lifts slowly and unevenly off the desert sand. "--get left behind?" Hellboy finishes to himself. "What the crap?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The one thing about working with the Gotham superhero family she's part of, it gives you an excellent sense of paranoia.

    Phoebe gives a wan smile to Hellboy as she goes to stand, and she rolls her left shoulder for a moment, listening as the whine of the engine gets louder and stronger.

    Something feels off, though, and she takes a couple of steps back off from Hellboy as she pauses, and tilts her head, eyes narrowing behind her shades.

    And then she begins running *towards* the helicopter, and the expression on her face reads like a litany of explitives!

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy watches Phoebe run at the chopper. "Yeah!" he calls. "Get 'im!" She looks like she's got a fire lit under her, despite not liking flying. The helicopter pilot, meanwhile, doesn't seem to know what the hell he's doing, just now. The helicopter tilts toward Phoebe and starts sliding across the desert toward her, rotors barely a meter off the sand. "Aw crap," Hellboy says to himself. He begins sprinting after Phoebe, if only to try and put himself in harm's way and protect her. She just threw up after putting her all into his little project. He's not about to let that favor be met with letting her die!

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Yep. She had a fire. But she also recognized the skilled pilot didn't seem to be himself. And she was running towards the chopper in order to keep the distance and the machinery in *her* control.

    She might not have a lot of oomph for Magic, but Tim Drake And Laura Kinney hadn't trained her to be a slouch.

    Phoebe zags off to the side, narrowly missing the rotors, and as she goes she raises a hand up, sand scratching her shades as she throws herself to the side, rolling in the sand and giving a grunt, accidentally inhaling some of it.

    She's going to have to hope Red can get to the Choppah himself!!

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy skids to a stop as the chopper is running right for him. He doesn't have Phoebe's nimble reaction times. He usually isn't afraid to take a punch. Meanwhile, he usually doesn't have choppers coming right for him. "Aw, crap," he says, shoulders slumping slightly. He tosses the container to the side just before blades begin slamming into his flesh. They snap like twigs against him, tossing him one way as the body of the beast twists the other way, spinning it around. The whole of the vehicle smashes into him after being flung into the air and flipped over. The body of the chopper spins slowly and the pilot hangs up-side down. However, his head remains pointed at Phoebe as he hangs there in his seat. Well, that's not normal.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe is stomach-down in the sand, and she rolls out of the way of one of the rotors being launched at her. She squeaks, head coming down as she brings her hand up, her shield smaller than normal as she wheezes into the sand, and then she sees the pilot.

    Yeah. Yeah, that's not normal at all, and she gives a sort of resigned look before she brings her left hand up brings her index and middle finger to her left temple, and swipes outwards.

    <Red I think the pilot's sick.>

Hellboy has posed:
    There's no response from Hellboy. The pilot undoes his seatbelt and lands in an unnatural position in the spinning cockpit. For a moment, he looks dead, all ragdoll physics, but soon, as the chopper spins around to reveal the slowly slowing cockpit, he's not in it. However, there's not a lot of places he can go, and it's the middle of the day. He starts coming at Phoebe counter the rotation, teeth bared as he lets out an unholy sound.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    ...

    <Red?> Phoebe asks, broadcasting outwards and then the chopper spins around, the cockpit rotating, the pilot ragdolled. She pushed herself up out of the midday sand, wincing as the blisters on her palms healed over, slower than normal.

    She exhales, and stands, ready to try her healing powers against the poor pilot -- and then he's gone.

    AND THERE HE IS.

    If Phoebe had a larynx she would have screamed, but instead her eyes go wide and she topples back into the sand, for one second she was trying to force air to make no ise as she speaks, unable to invoke fire, instead she manifests her Light staff to try and catch the pilot and sling him to the side with as much strength as she can muster!

Hellboy has posed:
    Light-staff isn't a phrase the pilot has likely ever heard before, and now he doesn't seem phased by it. Okay, well, let's stop counting things that are weird about the pilot. He narrows his gaze at Phoebe, then looks at where Red ditched the container of holy oil. The pilot begins rushing at it, instead.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Where the heck was Red? Phoebe could try porting -- she might have to wait for nightfall, though. She could try to get on her domino and call for aid from the Outsiders, but who'd come so quick?

    ... well. Impulse would.

    Phoebe winces, and pushes herself up with the brilliant white staff that lights the side of her face. She breathes out, and she brings her hand up to try and 'bubble' the holy oil containing the ingot for Hellboy's weapon, and she grits her teeth. Her nose has a little trickle from where she fell flat on her face.

    Not Today, rothead!

Hellboy has posed:
    The helicopter lurches, the back spinning around to smash into the ground as it tilts. Red sits up, then rolls over to stand. He cracks his neck with a hand on one side of it. He looks at the scene. The pilot running for the container. Phoebe bleeding from her nose. Wait, the pilot? Red grabs a rock and chucks it. It pings off the guy's helmet. There's a sickening crunch, but the unnatural movement of his neck only confirmed what was already obvious: Pilot's dead. Doesn't seem to stop him, though. "Phoebe, I don't think that guy's the pilot, anymore!" Red says as he starts running toward the guy. The pilot, meanwhile, picks up the container and starts trying to open it.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    <No Shit Red.> Phoebe replies, and she has lost all patience with this weekend, with the pilot-that-is-not-a-pilot anymore.

    She pulls off the webbing strap around her left wrist, showing a pale and very magical tattoo.

    Phoebe forces the wind through her lungs to form sound, Latin, echoing with power as she unleashes, and then her last name becomes obvious as the joke.

    When Phoebe lights up, she Lights Up, and she forms her evocation of Fire, raising both hands as she unleashes a fireball at the pilot -- it'd be stronger if she hadn't, y'know, flooded the woods to get rid of a demon yesterday with Holy Magic and The Light, but right now there's a trio of softball-sized Holy Magic Fireballs being slung at the pilot as he tries to open the container!

Hellboy has posed:
    It's enough, even if it's not her peak. The fireballs ignite the possessed corpse who is promptly separated from the container by a good amount of demon muscle power. Hellboy holds the burning corpse at arms length in the Right Hand of Doom as the former pilot thrashes until his flesh can no longer hold together and he falls apart. He then drops what's left of him there and looks at the residue left on his Right Fingers of Doom. "Eugh," he eughs. He then notices Phoebe again and jogs to her. "Hey," he says. "You okay?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    <I am going to throw up.> Phoebe replies with absolute honesty, looking pale as she looks up to Hellboy, and she teeters, then falls to her side.

    She reseals her aura, and then with a grunt, she brings her hands together, and concentrates.

    Then rosy-gold colored energy crackles, and a portal *just* big enough for Red to cross through would open on the sand. Looks like it's going to the Curio bar.

    <Do us a favor and just drag me and my bag through with you.>

Hellboy has posed:
    As Phoebe falls to her side, Hellboy reaches out, ready for it, and catches her. He braces her against himself. "Yeah, I'm not going to just drag you," he says. He leans with her against himself and swipes up the strap of her bag in the same Right Hand of Doom that holds the strap of his artifact's holding cannister...of sanctimonious oil. Standing upright again, he looks at Phoebe and says, "Sorry about this in advance." He carefully lays her back against his arm and scoops up her legs. He carries her like he would a child through the portal. He's very gentle, especially for a creature right out of hell.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe gives a slight shrug <Don't jostle me too much, we'll be even.> she replies, and then lets the mental spell go. Her head was killing her. And she leans herself against Hellboy as he picks her up. She's quiet, one hand holding against Hellboy's hand and arm as he lifts her without much trouble, and passes through the portal to the Curio bar.

    Well. A room off the Curio bar. The lady who was using the restroom pretty much screams as a LITERAL DEMON comes out of the mirror and into the second floor lady's room.