12963/A Stolen Voice

A Stolen Voice
Date of Scene:	04 October 2022
Location:	Allegheny Cemetery, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Synopsis:	When an emergency occurs with the demon Volroxach, the tormenter of Leksandra Sabry and responsible for the murders of all the families of the iAru-wheyt, Red Robin, Honey Badger and Red Hood all step up to deal blows to the demon Volroxach, until the binding can be finished. Next stop: Pina coladas and karaoke to celebrate Phoebe getting her voice back.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Gabby Kinney, Tim Drake, Jason Todd

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    A text went out late last night to the family members she trusted most. It showed Phoebe's neck, and the three gashes across it where the demon had ripped her larynx months before. It was crusting over, thick and infected, her dark skin visibly red around the wounds. It was accompanied by the words:

    She Knows. followed by the a set of coordinates, and an ask: "Come Prepared"

    The coordinates lead to a mauseoleum. Its gate had been opened, and there was a length of linen tied to the gate, with blue-colored in carefully tracing Middle Egyptian heiroglyphics, a prayer for the bodies within to lay undisturbed in spite of tresspass. Crime scene tape was wrapped and placed to the side.

    The crypt was marked with no last name on the outside, only the phrase "Mortui vivos docent" -- the Dead teach the Living.

    From there it's thirteen steps down into the massive mausoleum, where there is plenty of room to stretch shoulders and check weapons. There was a stone stand beneath a stained glass window, the Glass above picturing two stands of white lilies, a crown, an inverted star, and a book over art deco and faux-Egyptian filigree. (https://i.imgur.com/nyo1N6M.jpg)

    And then, in the gray stone tiles that covered the floor there was an array.

    It was burned into the stone, set with blood and desperation, with oil made from the basil of a mad monk's grave and charcoal from an oak tree from Glastonbury Tor, where supposedly Camelot once stood. The materials Phoebe had purchased from the pop-up apothecary in Gotham called The Flipside.

    It was a blend of Latin and Egyptian and Greek, spellwork that was inscribed to protect the caster, to defend not the caster themselves, but others who would have been harmed if they had wandered in. Of course, when this array was used, the creator didn't think the intended summon would have harmed her.

    And all around there are the whispers, layered upon one another enough that it was difficult to determine what was being said, all in the same voice, but move too close to the array, or to one of the scorch marks on the floor where a foot had been placed, or a candle had gone out, you may be able to hear below the omionous rumble of something dark in the back of your mind:

    Flectere Si Nequeo Superos, Acheronta Movebo
    De Profundis Inferni Clamavi ad te,
    Per Omnes Claustra

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Inveni me et Exaudi me Voca
    Reperio Me, Daemonium Constantinus!

    The whispers echo, layering over one another, some tones mocking, others grave and serious, others pleading and desperate.

    There's no question if Volroxach is here; she's just waiting for an opening while mocking those who would banish her.

    The air in the mausoleum is cool and clammy, with the promise of rain and blood on the tongue.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney was glad to have received the text from Phoebe, worrisome as it may be. It meant she wasn't going alone on things again. She'd left word with a few with what she was going to assist with along with another message that would be sent out the next day if she hadn't returned by then. Failsafes. There was no need not to be cautious about things after all. Maybe it was her own paranoia, Laura's, or even Tim's that had taught her to do such things but either way it is definitely taken care of.

Dressed in her full suit, tactical bodyarmor and all, she arrives down the crypt steps and moves to one side to check her weapons for the third or fourth time. There were guns. A tazer (never knew what might not enjoy getting zapped), and some throwing knives. Along with her own, naturally built-in weaponry which would likely be utilized.

One step to the side has her apparently traipsing where something had stood allowing that old echo of words to speak into her mind... and instantly she steps off. "Did you guys... hang on."

Her foot gently toes the area again to hear the same. "Yep. Not imagining it." Then, back and forth her foot goes, tapping, so that only parts of phrases tickle the back of her mind like a record being scratched repeatedly so as to create a beat. Her head bobs as she withdraws her uzi in one hand to slap in a magazine.

"I'm ready whenever." Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tim Drake has posed:
    In Tim's expert opinion, there is no real way to come prepared when magic is involved. Not even if you're a bonafide wizard, which he very much is not. Not even the wide array of Bat-gadgets at their disposal is adequate gear for a showdown with a demon.

    Getting a set of enchanted weapons for the entire team is rapidly climbing towards the number one spot on his to-do list. Because, seriously, this is getting ridiculous.

    He nods to Gabby, mouth set in a flat line as he sweeps his gaze back and forth. Like his fellow Outsider he's in full armor, swapping out his usual red suit for something meant more for stealth, heavier on the blacks and greys than his signature color. His metaphorical pack is figuratively light; he's foregone most of the other goods and sundry he carries with him on a day-to-day basis, stripped down to only the heaviest hitting, which in his case is mostly just an array of different grenades.

    And the sword. The possibly-cursed sword acquired by shady means, though Tim hasn't tracked down the exact details yet. This seems like a good excuse to pull it out and take on whatever risks there may yet remain undiscovered in wielding it. Not exactly his weapon of choice, but at least everyone he expects to see here won't confuse him for the other Robin.

    "I'm assuming you're also hearing voices in the back of your head that aren't usually there?" he asks, his voice as bland as it could possibly be.

    Maybe Volroxach wants to play mind games, but Tim has no intentions of participating.

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd would have been the biggest hypocrite had he refused to show. Does he want to be here? After the events of Fuck Bottom, PA, the Gotham park, and never-ending pineapple, even helping kill the summoned creatures as Jessica banished the sorcerer that possessed her Lantern ring. It's not the place he -wants- to be. But Phoebe is Family and she has been through enough. This needs to end.

Arriving as requested, he is fully armored and armed. Not that he has a lot of ghost busting skills of course. Killing things? He can do that. Grenades of every sort, more than enough ammo (he hopes), his custom pistols. His trusty crowbar. And two pineapples. Fresh from their appearing in his 'fridge.

After tonight, he cannot help but wonder if they're going to stop appearing.

A nod to Tim and Gabby, stepping close, he looks around.

"In stereo. At least it isn't just breathing in my left ear."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    <It is really unnerving to hear my own voice mocking me.> comes a computerized voice over the coms, and Phoebe arrives, coming down the stairs.

    She's not supposed to be here. <Zatanna got held up.> she explains without celebration or much to it, and instead just pulls the collar of her jacket up, and she looks at the assembled group. She presses her lips together, and she rubs at the back of her neck, dark eyes lookingo ver everyone as she steps close to the array that she burned into the ground, looking very uncomfortable as she looks over her work of desperation, trying to find where she went wrong as she adjusts her glasses.

    Unlike the others she wasn't in armor. She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be sitting in Saint Anthony's, situated on a leyline, and in a state of meditation.

    <If we don't go, I might lose my voice forever. If we do go, there's bad stuff ahead. She knows we are here. And she might not give up easily. Do you still want to continue?>

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney tap tap taps her foot giving a nod to both RR and Hood as they confirm what she too hears. "Yep. And you're right, it is weird hearing your voice that way Balm, but at least we know we're in the right place." A smile is offered over toward her friend while watching her step further into the room looking far more concerned when the mention of Zatanna being held up comes.

"Ah. That sucks." She has to agree only to draw a deep breath. Looking to her side she regards RR and Hood, eyebrows rising questioningly. "We're already here, be a pain to have to come back later." Besides, it already knew that they were here after all, is silently said. Though she looks to them for confirmation she turns back to Phoebe with a firm nod.

"Won't be the first time I've jumped into something dangerous."

Tim Drake has posed:
    The pineapples that arrive with Jason already have Tim concerned, so when Phoebe appears precisely where she isn't supposed to be (AKA, here) his expression goes from grim-and-bear-it to outright frowning. But what can he say against the reason she gives for her presence?

    They need someone in the heavy hitting spellcaster role. The magic on Gabby's claws means she's the frontline DPS, and that leaves Tim and Jason as... well, he's hoping they'll be more useful than just meatshields.

    "Only one way to go: forward," is all the response Tim gives to the question. To Gabby, he gives another nod, and moves to stand next to her. There's only a flinching second of trepidation as he pulls the blade from its sheath in his hand.

    And then nothing happens.

    Even the dirt on the mausoleum floor seems to cringe away from the sword's presence though when Tim allows the blade to hang loosely in his grip, the tip nearly brushing the ground. Which is weird, but about as paranormal as the sword has shown itself to be. An aura of icky vibes.

    He takes in a breath. "Seriously, though, I'm getting us all enchanted brass knuckles or something after this. Then I can put this thing back into the Drake family vault forever."

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd nods to the voice thing. It is pretty odd. Unsettling. "Yeah. But that's the point. To unsettle us. Mind games."

He's frowning inside his mask. "Okay. So we don't have the heavy firepower." A shrug, "We're here for you Phoebe." A nod as Tim says the same thing. "We're not leaving till we help you finish this."

"Wish my pistols were still enchanted. That was nice while it lasted."

Falling with the others, he stands behind them. Because he's taller. Not because he's scared. He probably should be, though.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    <If I had more time...> Phoebe winces, and she brings a hand to her throat.

    So it was down to them.

    She takes a deep breath, and she settles to her knees in front of the array.

    <It was raining the night I was here. I thought I heard his voice calling to me. I thought I was going to find comfort. Well. Guess we know that I don't get that luxury anymore.> Phoebe states, and she brings her hands down and with a wince, slices her fingertips aling the sharp edges of the burns in the stone.

    The array, circles upon circles begins to glow. There's a low rumbling sound, the slow gnashing of stone teeth as the tiles begin to split, to crack down the middle of the mausoleum, and fall away into an inky red-blackness below.

    Audi, pestilentia! Captor vocis meae! In nomine omnium maiorum corrupisti me; stare in iudic

    Something akin to a dirge starts, low, bass voices, humming, like static on a broken radio twisted around the sound of mollasses as a hand comes up, grasping the side of the tile.

    And another hand comes up, this one bound by a faintly glowing golden chain.
        And Another hand, wraped and strained, the chain distorted.
        And another.
            And Another.

    Finally, the full, twelve foot form of the demon has arrisen. Her lower torso is a leach, its mouth bloody as if freshly pulled from a lively body, black and shining like a blood clot. An emaciated waist, lengthening to a burnt torso from which six arms errupt, five bound by the chain -- and straining it. Spikes lance up from the demon's back, hanging chains from it as if in decorations and causing a clinking, jingling sound to accompany her presence. Jewel-like baubles hang from her neck, lacerating into the dense skin below and traced with markings from across the world.

    And then there are the faces. Blank-eyed, as if made from clay, but each has a grimmace, a yell, or a whimper etched into the mouth, some with trails of tears down cheeks in pleading, others showing tense musculature of aggression and anger beneath the porceline skin. <1>

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Foolish children... do you think you can survive where so many more accomplished mages have fallen? For the sake of a little bleeding tissue?

    And she holds out her free hand, where indeed there was bleeding, living tissue, kept alive through macabre magics.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Fear shivers up Gabby's spine as the hands begin to appear in a multitude past what was normal for most individuals. Her mind begins to prepare for something not humanoid, not entirely, which is likely only what saves her from the utter terror that comes. Those faces made her stomach churn just a little bit in unease when she stares too long at any of them in particular. So she opts instead to stare at the unchained hand that holds that dripping mass of flesh which was ripped from her friend so violently.

"Naw we thought we'd offer you an exchange for it. Pineapple?" She suggests helpfully with a child-like grin. Let the damn thing underestimate her for all she cared.

Tim Drake has posed:
    With the amount of violent crime in Gotham, Tim feels reasonably secure in the strength of his stomach. He's seen some pretty grisly stuff, lived through even worse, and is as sane as anyone who dressed up in bright costumes to fight crime can reasonably be.

    But what rises from the floor is... nauseating isn't strong enough of a word. There's no flinch, no outward sign of his revulsion, but on the inside Tim's struggling against a wave of disgust that makes the bile rise in his throat.

    Somehow, though, he steadies himself, feet sliding across the ground into a ready stance to avoid the growing fissure in the tiles. "Go ahead and underestimate us. I like our odds either way," he answers.

    And then he darts forward past Gabby's offering of pineapple to try and slice through the outstretched wrist of the creature before them.

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd watches as the beginning of the ritual is started. As the tiles split and hands begin taking hold of them, he slowly spins in a circle, checking the groups Six before pivoting back around and stepping away from the growing fracture in the floor.

He had not drawn his pistols before Phoebe began the ritual - but as the fugly demon climbs out of the fracture there is a soft muttering from inside his mask.

"... whaaat the shit..."

He doesn't remember grabbing his pistols yet they are in his hands. His eyes are looking at the fresh looking larynx in the demon's hands. It should unsettle him to the point of panic. It's an effing demon after all. He's got plenty of fight or flight adrenaline pumping through his veins now, but unsettling or scared? Actually he's eff'ing pissed.

He came here to help Phoebe. If that means killing a demon he's going to see this through to the end.

And then Tim is pressing the attack. Jason had intended to let Phoebe lead. Now that Tim's in motion. Well. You have to back your brother's play.

His pistols rise and erupt as he fires at the head of the demon.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe didn't even have to do the whole ritual. The demon was bound to this place... she just had to raise the curtain in order to show the stage was set for a massacre, and she felt that familiar burning in her throat where bits and pieces of her should be, that dull ache as she breathes out, and she readies herself, drawing down to a crouch and placing her hand flat on the floor, raising her own sheilds around her.

    As the others begin their advance, she tries to piece together the missing parts in her head. She can't make the incantation work -- she needs air for it, from her lungs, through the vocal chords.

    Some bindings were particularly sticky like that, and she could see the incompleteness in the chains, the way the links stretched.

    Gabby offers the demon... a pineapple.

    Phoebe just stares.

    The pineapple ruse doesn't seem to have halted the demon though, she rises up, hissing, the round, leaches mouth opening and showing all its teeth ( https://i.pinimg.com/564x/39/62/b2/3962b2c8bc4a085412a65e2f1e072fa6.jpg ) as Tim comes in for the slash at one of her wrists. She moves fast, her free hand, which unbound by the chains was able to move faster looks to both sweep his blow aside, and tug him into her toothy embrace at her belly as her foul laughter fills the air. Her voice doesn't not echo; there's no physical voice.

    Only the mocking tones of Phoebe pleading for Daddy to show up one more time.

    The bullets, on the other hand, they do a fair bit of damage. The masks all begin to break apart into a million pieces, shattering from the impact, black ichor flying up against the ceiling, the walls (and probably Tim, unless he gets out of the way of the demon leech body), the voice cackles, and slowly the head rebuilds, each mask one by one... but now it's missing a mask. There's still pieces of it, shards broken apart from the mask that's not regenerating.

     -- some of the mask got in Phoebe's Circle of Protection.

    Phoebe is also not looking too hot; she's sweating.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
It wasn't the greatest distraction Gabby knew but it was an attempt. Maybe if the demon had thought she was serious about some kind of trade she may have set her own request. Maybe not. Either way it doesn't much matter as Tim leaps forward to swing at the demon.

She ducks low, swinging her center of gravity down as she starts forward. The splatter of ichor that comes from the gunfire seems very hopeful. Which meant it was probably too easy.

Claws flick out, the moonlit glow shedding a pale blue light in the room. With quick steps she starts forward again only to veer to the side swinging one claw down toward that fraction of mask to scoop and yeet it toward the wall away from Phoebe's circle. She'd learned herself circles were important. No letting the enemy within.

That's the last task she sees to before joining in the fray to leap directly at the demon, feet first. Tucking them up to her chest she swings both arms across her chest trying to slice off arms in the process before intending to spring back away once she fully impacts. If she fully impacts.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Normally Tim would be in the thick of the logic puzzle that Phoebe is now having to tackle on her own. For all of his research, countless hours spent trying to understand the fundamentals of magic, it's just not an area he'll ever be able to understand. So he's relegated to being the distraction along with Gabby and Jason.

    And while Gabby is a Kinney and is competent in the ways implied by that name, the thing about being Robin, even if Tim (and moreso Jason) has left that name behind?

    The whole point is being a brightly colored distraction.

    Even as his sword meets nothing but air, Tim doesn't let that slow him down. The whiff's motion becomes momentum, twisting his torso around as he pushes off the floor and dives over the hand that reaches for him. It's not exactly an easy landing but he rolls with it and ends up on his feet at the end, which means his cape catches the goo splatter for the most part.

    "Gross," is the only reaction Tim has to that as he palms a concussion grenade from his belt and underhand throws up towards the top of the creature and its stack of masked faces, pitched in an arc to slow its descent just enough to let Gabby get in and back out again before the explosion.

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd emptied both clips. One of the masks is chipped, badly it seems. By that calculation, it's going to take a lot more bullets to break the masks. He's got them and another idea. He brought his custom rounds because - always plan for the unexpected. He was a Robin. He got the 'plan for everything' mindset drilled into him by Batman.

So it is that he slots fresh clips into his pistols. One with more hollow point slugs, the other with his custom, non lethal taser rounds. If the thing can ooze goo it has moisture. And electricty does, dearly, love water.

The reloading is really a thing of beauty. Choreographed to perfection, the guns are soon back on target. He fires the hollow points at the cracked mask to try and finish off the job. The taser roundss are sent forth toward the disgusting leech maw. Getting some shock rounds inside the thing seems like a good an idea as any.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Tim, Gabby and Jason are more than distractions. They *are* hurting the demon. Those golden chains around it don't just bind it, they weaken her.

    As much as they weaken the binder who made them.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
Why fight for her? She is a liar. You do not know who she is.

    The demon doesn't audiably scream when Gabby manages to remove one of the bound arms. The face that Gabby removed the chunk from Phoebe's circle of protection begins to grow back, bathed in dirty yellow curls too chemical to be blonde. Its cry of anguish is now a manic grin.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
She was willing to risk your lives for something so small as a chance...

    The head snaps back, full of hollow points at masks break and shatter again, slowly rebuilding. The maw closes around the rounds, its gelatinous make up wriggling and writhing before blossoms of pale reddish ichor appear on its skin , pushing out from the inside.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
... to hide what IT really is. Not a girl. Not a daughter, not a sister. A THING. the voice hisses, withdrawing back as the grenade strikes and catches one of its masks.

    The entire head blows apart, broken bits of mask exploding outwards in unholy shards, striking and sticking to the walls like thrown quills. The demon begins laughing, a sticky, ugly sound.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
Ask me anything, children of Gotham and Science, and I shall tell you the truth IT does not.

    The demon seems to need a breather, its body pulsing as if in pain, trying to repair itself, to heal.

    I can even call the Lady in Red. Leksandrea. Assseeennaaaaath.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney flips back to land in a crouch with her clawed hands extended to either side. She trusts that she didn't catch a bullet while in that close--Jason was a professional. If she did it wouldn't matter immediately anyway. It wasn't a if she'd notice unless it hit something vital that needed longer to repair. So she just fixes her gaze on the demon grinning with amusement.

"WHAT she is doesn't matter. WHO she is, does," comes her stern retort to the demonic critter. A glance is cast from the corner of her eye at the regrowing head/mask thing, and she tips her head toward it in case the others hadn't noticed.

"If you know the truth tell me this: Who is my Mother?" A question with no answer. Maybe it would stump the demon, maybe not, but it didn't matter because she follows up with, "If you know that answer then you'll know our answer as to why we do NOT care what her origins are. She's OURS now and we protect our own."

Once again she leaps in close but her intent this time is to slice at the hand which holds that lump of bleeding, pulsing flesh that was Phoebe's. Time to take that back.

Tim Drake has posed:
    "Gross." That's all Tim has to say, still. Sure, he could say something witty, some retort no doubt lingering on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't even want to engage with this demon and the awful things it gives voice to.

    Though he does smile slightly as Gabby steps in to cover that angle anyway. He pitches another concussive grenade towards the demon. He's not particularly invested in this one hitting; instead it's just -- you guessed it -- a distraction for the second grenade he throws with his other hand which tumbles across the floor until it lands in a clatter at Volroxach's... well, we'll say the base of Volroxach. Where it begins to spew out liquid nitrogen. It's a follow-up to the logic that led Jason to the shock rounds.

    Electricity loves water. Water can freeze. And maybe it'll help hold the demon still while Gabby goes in for the snatch-and-grab.

    "Balm, don't listen to anything it has to say, just focus on what you need to do!" he calls out from across the mausoleum.

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd had cut it close, perhaps, with the rounds sent down range at the demon while Gabby was in the demon's personal dance space. He hasn't fought along side her often enough to know all of her likely moves. Still, the rounds are all meant for the demon and it is into the demon they all go. Two more clips emptied as the thing begins to try and sway them.

"She's right" he agrees with Gabby, "But what Phoebe is, also matters to me. She is Family. And whatever an ugly sack of shit like you will try to say to sway us and save yourself?"

Reloaded, his pistols rise again. "You have no power any more. It's time to die." His pistols begin to erupt once more in a hail of bullets.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Tim doesn't retort, he doesn't engage with the mind games of the demon, he's strictly down to business. Ending this. Now.

    The grenades hit, the first busting another part of Volroxach's upper torso, splitting its ribs wide open and showing a pulsing, withered bit of flesh that might pass for a heart before the ribs slowly close like the mouth of a venus flytrap.

    But it's the nitrogen that helps. The demon is stuck where it stands, giving a low, electronic-sounding hiss as she tries to pull herself together, but is interrupted by another hail of rounds from Jason Todd, intent on protecting his bit of family.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
One named for the wife of Abraham, who watches all her daughters from afar: The name is Sarah the demon laughs, the hand holding the larynx was sliced. Gabby now has Phoebe's physical ability to talk. It pulses. Ew.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Focus Phoebe does.

    Gabby would find the tissue turns to some sort of sparkly ash. It flits around the room and dissipates, and as it dissipates, a voice gets stronger.

    Phoebe's voice.

    And as she speaks latin, her eyes glow with that rose-gold light of her magic, lines tracing their way up her hands, shining through the sleeves of her coat.

    There is the roar of a freight train, and then it all goes dark. Dark as ink, dark as night, dark as the grave you might wake in if you were buried alive. Where all stories begin and where all things end.

    And then... the group finds itself in the mausoleum again. There is no trace of the fight. The array Phoebe had burned into the ground was gone. The stained glass pit-pit-pits with the sound of a heavy autumn rain falling against it as electric lights flicker on, one by one, leading up the now fourteen stairs to the pathway of the grave.

    A blonde man, tall with sandy hair and strong arms eases Phoebe down to sit against the wall, wearing a fireman's overalls, and then between one breath and the next, he too disappears. The whispering has stopped, and instead of the taste of blood it is now a taste of ash.

    ... there are also now three pineapples where two once stood.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney finds herself standing there with hand upheld where she had grasped that meaty fleshy peice of Phoebe before it turned to ash in her grasp. It left a gritty feeling in her hand which distracts her even as the sudden loss of light had caused her eyes to widen staring into the darkness.

And the light comes back earning a quick blink, her head snapping back to Phoebe to watch as the man lays her down leaving her puzzled. Her gaze sweeps over Jason, over Tim, then back to Phoebe before she finally turns and drops her hand at her side.

"Who the fuck is Sarah?"

Tim Drake has posed:
    The darkness shouldn't be soothing, but somehow it is. Maybe that's just the Gotham influence, but in that brief moment where they're shrouded in a cloak of blackness, until the mausoleum fades back in, untouched and unaffected by the demonic presence that once lingered here, Tim's heart begins to slow down from its adrenaline pitch.

    He lets out a breath and sheaths the sword with a faint grimace, casting it a wary side-eye before he moves over to Phoebe. As he passes by, both Gabby and Jason get a subtle-but-there once-over, and then he's crouching down to do the same with Phoebe, much more obviously.

Jason Todd has posed:
As the grenades blow, Gabby frees what rightfully belongs to Phoebe from the demon's grasp, and his rounds slam into the demon, Jason is feeling one thing: Determination. This was going to end.

When the room turns inky blank, it is a moment of respite from the horror of the thing they were fighting. Even his mask's optics could not show him the room. Suernatural effects are hard to handle even with technology. But then the room returns.

He sees the man setting Phoebe down and then the man disappears. He looks to Tim and Gabby. Lowering his pistols, he reloads and holsters them.

A shrug is all he can offer to Gabby. Who was/is? Sarah. That would be a question that needs an answer sometime later. For now he is a half step behind Tim in going over to check on Phoebe.

"The room is right again." No scars, even an extra step. It was all pointing to a good ending. Happy? That is relative. As long as Phoebe is safe and whole? Good was an ending Jason can live with.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe is very still for a moment. The gashes across her throat have healed. Her eyes press a little more tightly before she stirs, and coughs, and looks around to Tim, to Gabby, and to Jason, and then to the mausoleum and its near pristine state of existence...

    ... and then creaks out:

    "Did it work?"

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney moves over to crouch near Phoebe as well, not getting too close so that Tim has a chance to check her over. A broad grin is offered to her though, along with a firm nod. "It worked. Whatever you did, was exactly what needed to be done. And now," she muses, reaching up to run a hand back through her hair. "I think we should drag you home and let you rest."