13059/Urban Legends: The Wailing Women of Amusement Mile

Urban Legends: The Wailing Women of Amusement Mile
Date of Scene:	01 November 2022
Location:	Amusement Mile Boardwalk, Gotham City
Synopsis:	While pursuing something thought to be an extension of the washer women of Ireland or La Llorna appearing in Gotham City, Michael Hannigan, Ariah Olivie, Alfred Bennyworth and Austin Reese encounter a woman begging for help, which turn sin the light of truth to be four very large spider-like creatures. Austin and Ariah experience a minor displacement. Ariah bites Alfred.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Ariah Olivie, Michael Hannigan, Alfred Pennyworth, Austin Reese

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The oceanside by the Amusement Mile had long held its secrets, changed from the colonial times, built up and lauded for boardwalks that became the haunts of people who sold favors in the night. Before that it was another extention of the ports. Before that it had so much life along the natural harbor here, connected to the sea.

    Two nights ago, Elias Pratt had been jogging alongside the ocean at night, dodging beer cans and other flotsam from the water's edge when he heard a scream.

    "My baby! Please! Someone help! My child went into the water!" she screamed, and she rushed towards him. Unusual in dress, she was wearing dark clothing and a small hat pinned to her head, old-fashioned looking -- but it was Halloween, in Gotham. He had turned to make sure he wasn't about to get rushed by others in the sand, and then took his cellphone to shine a light into the ocean beneath the boardwalk. He began to livestream, talking about how he was going to help this lady -- no lady was in the background -- and as he searched the ocean there was a murmur of "There's... no kid here --"

    --followed by the sounds of a struggle.

    Elias's phone had turned up on the beach after he showed up at a hospital, screaming, scratched and bitten and coughing up seawater before -- very luckily -- finding himself in a ward where he could recover. The news had gone out from his livestream, and it had been tagged of interest by @MyopicMyosotis on some of the occult boards.

    Which was why Phoebe was currently monitoring the beach from on top of a coffee house, crouched behind its sign.

    "So out of the attacks, the spirit either changes clothing to appear from different time periods, or we possibly have multiple spirits on our hands with the same MO. There haven't been reports of this type of activity for about fifty years, since the area was rebuilt and the beach and boardwalk expanded past its historical settings and the fisherman's wharf being wrecked. I can't find a description for the lady other than it tended to change with the era, not like the Phantom Hitchhikers." she states over a shared comm system. "So, if you encounter one of the spirits, don't go near the water... there's been an uptick in body recoveries according to the GCPD and the coastguard, they're attributing the premortem injuries to different fish. Nothing about strangling though, which Elias reports is what happened to him."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    A certain small woman is no stranger to Gotham. Her 'home base' might be in New York, but she can be found equally as often in the dark city. Maybe she's just drawn to it. Thankfully, Ariah's attire isn't so much old as it is more... elegant. She surely wouldn't be mistaken for one of the strange ghostly specters, would she? Dark skin and shock of short, white hair aside, she's slowly picking her way across the beach, skirting the water line so that even the most ambitious of waves washing along aren't at much risk for licking her boots.

    Curiously, though, she's carrying a staff in one hand, polished silver metal shining when the moon glows above. If it has the chance to peek out. Every fourth step, like clockwork, the lower end presses into the sand. Her meandering seems just that, meandering, but every step is measured as she stares off into the distance. What's she looking for? Cowrie shells? Bodies? Ghosts? The girl in the red dress isn't trying to be stealthy at all.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Once again Mike has dressed comfortably. But unlike the prison where there was the effort of wearing a modified hoodie, he's more just dressed for the weather. On an early November night in Gotham that leads to-

A hoodie.

While the hood obscures the hair, Mike did take the time to secure his lengthy locks into a ponytail. The prospect of a sea breeze causing for a whirlwind of hair is always high when near the water.

Mike listens to the summary from Phoebe, considering the odd situation. Usually he doesn't know what's going on in these situations, but every so often he proves useful. Which is probably why he got called here. It certainly wasn't for his vast knowledge of water wenches.

He hrmms. "Do you think this is related to the angler situation at Dead Man's Hollow?" He pauses. Well technically they weren't anglers "Demonic Catfish. Whatever those things were."

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Down on the boardwalk, Alfred scans the beach warily, and his brows draw together when he spots someone walking along with what looks like a wizard's staff. "Any of the ghosts ever appear as a girl in a red dress?" he inquires softly over comms, before taking a deep breath.

"Right," he mutters to himself, "remember you volunteered for this, you great galloping fool." He opens the little gate to the steps leading down to the beach, emitting a faint squeak into the evening, and walks down to the sand, stopping at a point short of the water line to pose as if gazing meditatively out to sea. Conveniently, he has placed himself in a spot for Ariah to intersect him shortly if she continues her current pathing. He is an excellent actor, and overall looks like a perfectly normal, clueless human in harm's way, except for the way he occassionally balls a fist before catching himself and relaxing his hand.

Austin Reese has posed:
Right next to Balm is Osprey, listening to the quick brief she's giving, "Don't suppose you got any proton packs handy." He muses. Halloween was last night, the weird stuff should be winding down not picking back up.

Then again if nothing else he's learned that spooky stuff doesn't ever actually wait for the spooky season. "Seriously though, is there a plan to grab this thing and/or things once we lure it out? I assume you've got something for that." It's Phoebe, of course she does.

Probably like rat toenail fungus from that one shop she took him to that one time. Yeesh. He's probably going to stick to beating up gang goons.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "No, they all tend to appear as adult women crying for their children, the three that we have recorded from survivors are Dutch Colonial era, Industrial era, and 1920's, all middle class or possibly lower -- you know it's easier to affirmitively date female spirits because feminine fashion tended to change faster and more noticably than men's, which is an Earth constant and --" Balm goes off a moment, and she pauses "- later."

    She flips through some notes, and clears her throat.

    "Right. I don't think this is related to Dead Man's Hollow, but if it is... it's coming closer to home. Which means I might have to ask Oracle to source me all the archetectural buildings in case some guy named Shandor built them up." she answers, giving a look over to Austin as she takes a breath.

    "The plan is to see if we can entice out one of the ladies. If it's actual gang activity using the urban legend? Come in hot on a short night. Tag and bag for the GCPD and Phantasm can head back to business and I owe Momma Bird" - yes, that's Alfred - "a rare scotch. If it's ghosts, zero in on location, stay out of the water, and yeah, I got something for them." she states, and she lifts her palm where there's a palm-sized piece of s moothed over quartz with a sigil and some spellwork done on it.

    As Alfred is approaching the girl with the red dress, on a different part of the beach, Michael might pick up on an icy feeling, and the sound of someone crying out, faintly, echoing in all the wrong ways of the evening: My baby! Oh God, my baby is in the water!

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah doesn't quite make it into running smack into Alfred. No, she stops well outside of arm (or staff's) reach and slowly looks up at him. Mismatched eyes peer out from the fringe of her silver hair and blink owlishly at him. Then her head cocks slowly to one side, taking a near perfect 45-degree angle. "...you do not look like a ghost..." she states, voice soft and cold. "...energy is not strange..." the girl adds, and then nods politely to him. She continues to advance, making to simply walk around the gentleman.

    Then she pauses, sharp hearing catching the echo, just the bare edge of it. Her gaze sweeps over Alfred once more for good measure before she begins to turn in place, looking around the beach and boardwalk to try and catch a glimpse of something--or someone--that's out of place. "...or that..." she trails off, expression neutral.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
With Mike in his more human mode, the sense of touch is very much still functioning. Goosebumps brushing against the fabric of the hoodie sleeves, Mike turns his head in the direction of the sound. "Just felt a chill. Cry's between where I am and Bird." Yes he's aware that the title is Momma Bird but being the others got actual bird titles, he can at least drop the first part. Also, it's quicker.

With a bit of a shrug, Mike starts to move towards the sound, seeing if a figure shows up with it or if the sound gets any louder.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
"Later," Alfred agrees, to validate Phoebe's rambling. He turns at Ariah's approach, and a bemused smile begins to tug at his lips at her examination. "Now hold on, you forgot to poke me to be sure I'm solid," he quips, and is about to comment on how she seems to be here for the same purpose as himself, when she suddenly goes on alert.

He immediately goes silent, and strains to listen. He can't hear it, but then his senses aren't as finely attuned as the vigilantes he cooks for. "This way," he mouths almost silently, pointing along down the beach in the direction she was heading. It's just simple induction really; if she came along the beach from the one way, looking for ghosts, and didn't see anything, then the disturbance must be further along THIS way. He makes a beckoning gesture for her to follow him if she will, and begins walking methodically along the shore, endeavoring to look casual. Partly for the ghost's benefit, and partly to trick himself into not releasing any adrenaline until it's actually needed.

Austin Reese has posed:
"So we're trying to figure out the specific cause, then deal with it. Sounds good." Austin replies to Phoebe, before he gets up onto the ledge proper, taking a crouched position as he scans over the water with his mask, checking it out in AR, "Sounds like they might have something. Looking for a possible source."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The sands around Michael shift a little bit, and from the side, about ten feet from his shoulder as he looks about, a woman appears. She could have been coming from a late Halloween party -- or one to make up for Halloween being on a Monday. She's wearing dark gray dress, cut at her knees and a hat that covers most of her forehead and her ears. She looks like she's soaking wet, her feet sinking a little into the sand -- but not disturbing it.

    "Please! You have to help me -- my baby got swept into the waves! Can you hear him?" she asks, "Please help me find my baby!"

    There's no pitched sounds of infants over the waves.

    To the AR, she shows as a weird, gl itchy energy signature, colder than the air around her. Like half a person. It may have issues processing the information.

    To Michael though, she looks solid -- minus the fact that her shoes disappear into the sand.

    As Alfred makes his way over, he may notice the shadow alongside the hooded man.

    Ariah would feel the cold. There is something very old at work here.

    Balm hops up to the top of the coffee house's fascade, and then shooting a grapple line, takes off towards Michael!

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    At the suggestion that Ariah should poke Alfred, she does just that. Her staff comes up into both hands, and with a gentle nudge, goes for the gentleman's calf. Not hard. Just to make contact. Boop. Satisfied, though, she simply nods and frowns again. Well, at least Alfred doesn't seem like a ghost or a violent sort or anything. Not that Ariah is too worried about him. No, it's what lies beyond that she has concern for, even if it doesn't show on her face.

    "Oui, onward," she states, accent thick and French, voice as cool as the night. And then it just gets. So much colder. She's no stranger to the chill but her body feels... she visible shivers. "..very wrong.." she mumbles now, blinking owlishly at Hannigan and then surveying the immediate area. There's a small spark of energy under her thumb as she idly rubs it over one of the runes etched in her staff, igniting the symbol and there it pulses with a blue-white light, only really visible when her digit slides off of it in this.. nervous tic of hers. "...identification... containment.. dispersal..."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Hearing the voice, Mike's forward momentum halts as he ends up turning to look to the new position of the cries for help. Whelp. Chalk that up as a yes for if it'll get any louder.

And now to play dumb concern.

"Your baby got swept into the waves?" Mike repeats, somewhat relaying for others benefits in case they're not seeing this.

Mike looks in the general direction of the water but not making a step towards it. Time to inch up the concerned tone... "What color outfit were they wearing?! Can they swim?"

Oh noes...Panic. Panic. Panic. Concern.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred halts on coming within visual range of the tableau. "I'm here, Michael," he murmurs softly on comms. "Staying back so as not to, er, spook it."

He looks down at Ariah, and speaks softly, "I take it this is the sort of thing you deal with regularly? I'm here with a group. The young man up ahead is aware of the trap."

Austin Reese has posed:
Austin stands up once the AR picks up the signature, "Something's there, but I can't see exactly what." He says over comms, as he tries to zoom in on the figure that the AR isn't picking up, "It's cold. Colder than the air. I'm thinking we may need your method on this one, Balm."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Panic, panic, concern -- it's like Duck Duck Goose but Adreniline.

    The ghost doesn't seem so moved - "Please, you've got to help me, my baby -- a wave came up and swept him out. He can't swim! Please help me find my baby!" she repeats, voice echoing oddly now.

    The sand is disturbed again around MIchael, but not with footsteps from the woman. These are heavier, round, sinking into the sand like there was a lot of pressure around them.

    The holes begin to appear around Alfred and Ariah as well.

    Balm, with her blue optics, narrows her eyes, and then she brings her hands up.

    "O lux per me diffusa, ostende nobis veritatem!" she calls out.

    And the woman disappears.

    Between the Phantasm, the Butler, and the Vampire there are now four large creatures. They resemble cellar spiders, the long, thin-legged spiders that hide in basements if their bodies were five feet long, and their legs cresting at ten feet in height. Their bodies hanging down between their legs. Between the long mandable fangs hangs a human-like head, though upside-down with one, massive eye coming out of the mouth, and its eyes replaced by small fanged mouths with twitching, long-whiskers.

    For a moment, the four creatures look confused, as if seeing each other for the first time in a long time.

    "My baby--" says one, before they begin to skitter. One goes for Michael with a screech, trying to whip those whiskers around him to grab him!

    One goes for Alfred, hissing low as its single eye glows dimly like a dying ember.

    Two go for Ariah, snarling and each two-part mouth snapping its fangs in a threat display!

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Regularly?" Ariah asks Alfred, shaking her head. "Non. Have done it before? Oui. Long time ago..." she states. How 'long' that could be, however, is not really explained. She does not in understanding, though, and keeps her distance from Michael. She does, however, start to use the end of her staff to draw a line in the sand. A curved line, the makings of a circle, and then... the heavier holes. She stops. Freezes, frowns. "...this is sub-optimal..." she mumbles.

    The shift makes her pause, from sensation to visibility. The four-foot-ten girl in the dress is craning her neck, staring up at both of the massive spiders that quite frankly tower over her. They look like they could just... snatch her up and each take one half of her and off they'd go. A light snack with her stature. Speaking of light, though, the rune under her thumb pulses with more energy, shining brighter and spreading to the other runes.

    "...the game begins, monsieurs..." she states, changing the grip on her staff to two-handed, half of her grasp wrapped around the place where light is spreading. A thin line of it cracks the circumference of the staff and she pulls. A rune-etched straight saber is drawn from the sheath that is the staff and she swings for the nearest set of spindly legs as that blade is engulfed in blue-white fire.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
There is something to be said about actually being able to hear others when you're a little bit a ways from your temporary teammates. Alfred's indication of his immediate proximity is a good indication that yes the others are aware of what's going on. Which is fantastic!

So far the general objectives list is being followed. Entice out one of the ladies. Check. Zero in on location. Check. Stay out of the water. Well... depending on when the others make their move, at some point he's going to have to make it look like he's actually falling for the ploy and he's not sure how much playing along room there is til he runs out of beach to do it on.

Mike responds back with his own tone of insistence. "I know that lady! What color is he wear-" Mike's voice halts as the woman vanishes and is instead replaced with a giant nope.

Well, so much for the concern about staying out of the water.

It is at this time that one would probably expect for Phantasm to come leaping forward, ready to fight but there is a small problem with this. One. He is currently in human form. Not human shape. human FORM. As in solid. Two. It takes time to shift. Three-

SPIDER!

Mike makes a graceful jump backwards. Or as graceful as one can manage when the surface you have to land on is loose sand. Feet scramble back, pushing away from the incoming humandibles.

It's perfectly fine folks. Mike has a plan!

...

Avoid death first. Change later.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred has a hand in his jacket, reaching for his service pistol the moment the round holes start appearing around him, but he seems to forget about it the moment the spiders actually appear. "Dear god," he gasps, staggering backward in sheer horror. That flood of adrenaline mentioned earlier? Yeah, now is the time.

He manages to keep his footing - barely - in the soft sand, but as one of the giant hairy horrors leaps at him, the weight of it bears him down as he lets out an alarmed yell.

The service pistol is then remembered, and he tugs it out of its shoulder holster with an ungraceful jerk as he frantically plants his other hand against the thing's face to keep the snapping mouths at bay. Too unbalanced to make a reliable shot, he resorts to smashing it repeatedly in the head with the heavy butt of the gun.

Austin Reese has posed:
As soon as the sand started to move, Osprey stood up and pulled his grapple gun off his belt, firing a line towards the boardwalk's light, one of the main light sources above the sand, rapidly pulling himself onto the lamp, balancing there for a moment before he smashes the light, the bulb throwing out sparks and a bright flash of light before plunging the pole into darkness.

Osprey's lenses switch into night vision as he leaps off of the lamp pole, the metal running along the knuckles of his gauntlets starting to glow hot as he plunges downwards, aiming to smash that white hot knuckle into the spider closest to Alfred.

It's not that he doesn't trust Alfred to be able to take care of himself, but he still owes the man for the drinks last night!

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe doesn't think Alfred couldn't take care of himself, but she's not really willing to deal with the aftermath.

    <This isn't what I expected!> she protests as she also kicks off the bit of boardwalk she was haunting, but MIke, Alfred, and the girl with the stick that turns into a light -- err, Rune Sabre! Phoebe is DEFINITELY interested in that trick, but right now they're in the thick of it.

    <Keep them off Alfred, Oz.> she states over the bats-only comm, <Phantasm and the new girl can probably take care of their own.>

    And what about Balm?

    She's keeping her light on the subjects at hand, namely her hand crackling with emitted light illuminating the area and keeping the spiders in vision!

    The spider going after Michael gives a purring, yipping sound, and its mandable-whiskers reach down, trying to grab a hold of Michael's legs and drag him towards the water, happily chirring like a friendly giant horrific spider thing.

    Osprey plunges the spiders into normal darkness, and then as the white hot knuckles activate, he serves an extra spicky knuckle sandwich to the spider that is also being pistol-whipped by Alfred, the creature trying to wrap its own tendrils around Alfred to try and drag him to the water as well!

    -- only it screeches when the knuckle sandwich strikes its back, reaching backwards onto four legs instead of all eight!

    One struck by Ariah is taken out, its legs are lightly resistant -- they creak and crack, oozing blackness, but aren't cut straight off.

    The second screams, and attempts to grab Ariah by the feet to try and rob her of her balance, but is giving a good amount of room, wary of getting within slicing range!

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah can't be everywhere at once. Her 'vampire speed' isn't the same as her Sire's, and neither is her strength. The sword gives her added reach but she's certainly... not the most physically imposing individual here. Which, to be fair, is reserved for the spiders. The lack of light doesn't bother her, though, and that silver saber shining with arcane power is more than enough of a torch to see by on the beach. "I have never dealt with one of these before," she states, voice even and cold, "Let alone four."

    The other two thirds of her staff is in her other hand, and the runes on it are igniting at a rapid pace until they reach the end, the half-crescent blade of a scythe formed of pure energy jutting from it. She engages in a deadly dance with the two spiders, still trying to hack through the legs of one of them to bring the head and body more down to her level--and gets caught on the back-swing by the second spider.

    In her struggle to not end up face-down in the sand, she brings the scythe-blade down on the spider she'd started hacking at, to try and lodge the blade in its head and keep herself upright.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
"This is a LOT like Dead Man's Hollow!" Mike mutters as he scrambles back, darting to the side to avoid another lunge from the spider. But taking the time to dodge was getting in the way of switching over. Which this situation definitely called for.

His last attempt to dodge is not so successful and as his feet are pulled out from underneath him for the drag towards the sea. Back rubbing against the ground, likely taking some of the beach with the folds of the fabric, Mike stills.

An unnatural state of shadow forms under the somehow undisturbed hood. A glow of eyes appear from the hooded abyss before the creature taking Mike's place sits up, slashing claws at the whiskers. The spider does not get greeted with happy sounds but more that of a low pitched, but easily interpreted snarl.

Phantasm is not a happy being at the moment. Allow him to express his discontent!

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred CAN take care of himself, normally, but giant spiders fall outside the butler's purview. He has his face averted from the nasty dripping spittle and horrid sticky tendrils of the one accosting him, beating on it with all his strength as he kicks and struggles to find purchase in the soft sand to hold his ground.

He's lifted slightly, then dropped back onto the sand with a *whump* as the spider accosting him suddenly rocks from an external blow, and relinquishes half its legs to strike back at the Osprey.

"There you are," he snarls as the creature's new posture gives him a clear view of its thorax. He digs his heels into the sand to hold his position as well as he might in case it starts yanking at him again; squares his shoulders and opens fire at center mass without hesitation.

Five rounds, rapid.

Austin Reese has posed:
Osprey knows how aggro works. You do enough damage to something and it'll take it's focus off of everything but you. That's why he holds the punch as long as he can, until the spider breaks contact finally and Osprey hops backwards, landing between the spider and Alfred, but off just to the side to allow Alfred an unobstructed view.

As Alfred fires his shots, Osprey throws a pair of batarangs from his belt up at the spider's exposed underside, aiming for the same exposed area that Alfred just fired into. There's a familiar red flashing on them when they hit, and they detonate after a moment, an inward focused blast.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The spider that was happily burbling in its way dragging Mike to the water stops its happy burbling. Instead of screams.

    It screams, high-pitched as the dull eye in the middle of its upside-down head glows momentarily at the clawed figure ripping apart its tendrils. Instead it rears backwards, each of its leg-ends pointing down, and it tries to put four closely-spaced two-inch holes into Phantasm's chest!

    The spider that had been facing off against Alfred and Osprey has its belly pretty well ripped apart. Its chitonous exterior cracks with the gunshots, five placed in close proximity. The batarangs crack in and with the explosion, it pushes through and cracks the back of the beast.

    The snack-sized one was small, but mighty. The scythe comes down as the runes ignite, the two spiders in a macabre dance with her to try and gain an upper hand -- but it's Ariah that gains first. The blade comes up and gets lodged in the spider's head. THere's a scream, an awful screech of pain and anguish before it topples, trying to make its way back towards the water.

    THe other one, lamed, attempts to guard, hissing at Ariah as it backs away.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    For all of the screeching, hissing, and screaming the spiders are making, Ariah is terrifyingly silent. Through her grim, close-quarters work, getting black blood splattered all over her skin, hair, and dress. Snack-sized yes, but easy open? Hardly. The conjured scythe blade burns hot and is as sharp as the silver of her sword, but burning is exactly what she's doing, too. The light of runes flare under her sleeves too as she uses the blade buried in the spider's head to drag herself atop it.

    She missed the warning about the water, she doesn't know. Hauling herself up onto the toppled spider, she's taking her sword in both hands to thrust it down and deep into the spider's neck to try and sever its head from the body. The spider on guard though will notice she's.. flagging. Her movements slowing. The chill of the sea, the night, and the supernatural cold biting away at her. And her torch is burning bright and hot, leaving her with less fuel.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
As the spider rears back, the Phantasm swings forward. The glow of the eyes vanish as the dream being phases through the exposed underside of the spider. And then. That's it. There's no Phantasm on the other side.

How anticlimatic.

Perhaps it is the mindset needed for this particular form. Perhaps it is just out of necessity. Or maybe it is because of the horror movie night event for friends of Shaw Studios to blame but. What inspired the next events is a bit out of this world.

A few moments go by before what could be considered the equivalent of the chest region of the spider starts to bulge. There is likely some form of discomfort as something from within provides a severe amount of focused pressure. And eventually-

The phantasm bursts through.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred rolls over and pushes himself to his feet, staggering slightly in the poor footing. A few drops of blood speckle the sand from... somewhere. He wipes nameless ooze from the left side of his face with his jacket sleeve and heaves in great lungsful of the cool night air as he looks around to regain his bearings. He spares a nod of gratitude to Austin, but too late notices their unexpected ally chasing her prey into the surf. "No, don't go in the water!" he calls out, feeling the uselessness of the late warning even as she climbs atop the wretched creature and starts hacking away.

What he can do, is provide some cover fire. He takes aim at the remaining lame spider in defensive posture and methodically plinks away at it, one careful shot at a time. He doesn't expect the bullets to have quite the same effect without the clear shot he had at the other's underbelly, but all he's trying to do is keep it on the defensive until one of the actual heros can dispatch it.

Austin Reese has posed:
The spider goes down, and Osprey turns around to scan over the remaining spiders. There was still one standing, and Alfred was already firing on it. Osprey turns his attention to that, and quickly crosses the distance towards it, his gauntlets giving off that same white-hot glow as he swung with an overhand right to hit the spider, aiming for a spot near its legs, trying to keep it from being able to fully retreat into the water. They can't let any of them escape, or more people might die. This has to end here, regardless of the risks of venturing into the water.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    WELL. CHESTBURSTING PHANTASM IS CERTAINLY A THING.

    A horrible thing.

    Balm is going to have additional nightmares and she is not happy about that. She feels her stomach turn, keeping the light of truth going for the gang below. The creature that became the prey of an alien-inspired horror move collapses, its burbles and happy chitters-turned-screaming turned to silence.

    No, no you should not go into the water. The spider goes down, its head severed from its body, and the head tumbles, gathering sand and sinking, becoming empty.

    There is one spider left.

    The Spider does not appear to want to stay in the vincinity of these monstrous creatures that've eliminated its breatheren. It's smart. It's trying to escape.

    Waves lick at its legs. The spider is shot at, stabbed at, introduced to heat. Steam and mist rises from around it as it screeches, echoing into the night.

    Calliope music is carried on the breeze.

    Austin and Ariah, in closest contact with the creature, would see a brief view of a twilight sky, speckled with green and glowing stars before the water swallows them in a massive wave.

    The two are left spinning in the riptide, water rushing over them and trying to pull them out to sea!

    Balm comes running up the beach, plucks her grapple and lights it up, laucnhing it into the water to try for a little hero fishing!

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah didn't get the memo. Was there one? She's just lost in the sea of gunfire, sword, and... cold. So cold. She feels the neck giving, watches the head tumble, and pulls her blade free. She stands defiantly on the remaning body segments, blade in one hand, scythe-staff in the other. Mismatched eyes watch Austin race at the remaining beast and she holds sword and staff together, conjuring two bolts of white-hot concussive force. Guided by Austin's blazing gauntlets, she lets fly towards the final creature's form, intent on having the magicks detonate and destroy the thing.

    And then her world is twilight. Her eyes, full of stars. They go wide before the sea swallows her. All of the glow of energy on her person and her weapons are extinguished as the cold of the water saps her strength, leaving her unable to fight the current threatening to drag her to the depths. Or worse, beyond? Thankfully, her clothing is loose and flowy enough that a grapple should have no trouble snagging her unconscious form and hauling her back.

    Drowning is another matter entirely.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Scary, messy, or not. One can not argue with the end result. The phantasm crawls out of what's left of the spider. Turning to look around, looking Alfred's direction, a jagged glowing grin is flashed to the butler before he steps back to promptly shake off the accumulated arachnid guts.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred of course lowers his gun as soon as the others engage with the last spider, slips the safety back on and re-holsters it. He then takes a moment to bend over, hands braced on his knees, to catch his breath. He looks up at the odd sound of calliope music, and makes an inarticulate sound of dismay when he sees the two dragged beneath the waves by a vicious undertow. But then he sees Phoebe run up with the grapple, nods faintly to himself, and re-focuses on taking deep breaths. Nothing he can do to help in this instance, anyway.

After a minute or so, his legs are no longer shaking, and he's able to stand upright again. Just in time to see the Phantasm make like a disgusting dog drying itself off. He makes a grimace of distaste, and then turns his attention to shrugging his jacket off so that he can start rolling up the sleeve of his left arm, where there's a long shallow scratch left by some flailing bit or another of his spider while he was holding it at arm's length by the face.

Austin Reese has posed:
There's a moment of quiet after the creature's cry ends, and the music from the boardwalk can again reach the beach. That moment lasts for only a moment, however, as suddenly the world is upside down and wet, that beautiful city twilight visible for a moment before the water washes over his head.

It's confusing and being washed off your feet will always quite literally throw you for a loop. The riptide pulls him again, flipping him upside down as he tries to right himself.

Swimming is a mandatory skill at Bat Academy. Thankfully. Osprey manages to turn himself around and once he spots the light from Balm's grapple. In the dark water, he reaches out and grabs for Ariah's form, hoping that it's her and not the spider, or this would get awkward. Once he grabs hold of her and pulls her to him, he reaches out and grabs the end of Balm's grapple wire, and pulls hard on it with his left hand to tell her to pull.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    On shore, Balm braces her feet in the sand and activates the grapple. Against the pull of the water, with two figures in tow and Ariah's dress, she grunts with the effort of holding on, and clips it to her arm armor, then brings her other arm up to cross over it.

    "C'mon c'mon c'mon...." she whispers, pulling the two out of the water -- or at least close enough that they can stand.

    She looks over to Alfred then, checking him up and down.

    "You good, Momma Bird?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah is light. But she's also something else. Dead weight. The ends of her staff are clutched with a deathgrip that might be rather literal at this point but Austin will notice that she's not moving. As she's dragged to shore, there's no sign of motion, no sign of life. And she's cold. Frigid cold. It's as if the icy waters of Gotham's shoreline had sucked all of the energy out of her. Surely she just needs a hot bath and a fire, right? Not that she's breathing either, though.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Despite the visual and the apparent result of cleanliness that comes afterwards, there is little evidence of the gore that had been previously spotted upon the Phantasm save for a few drops. Some things are not worth the effort to make sense of.

With no more prospect for fighting anything, the glowing expression gives an almost disappointed look before fading away. The darkness that accompanied it fades, leaving Mike's, less than enthused expression for the situation as a whole.

The musician looks down to his gloved hands, and shakes his head.

Taking a breath, he starts to head over towards the growing gathering near Phoebe.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
"Nothing a bit of bandage won't fix," Alfred reports. "I will need to get this cleaned as soon as possible, of course. I shudder to think what kind of... juices that thing may have dripped on me." To punctuate his disgust, he gives the arm a good shake to distract from the sting.

He looks up then, and his gaze falls on the two forms just pulled out of the water. Austin seems to be all right, but the other... "Oh no," he mutters, and jogs over to the water line to check Ariah for life signs. "She's... ice cold," he reports, leaning low over her to check for breath as he searches her wrist vainly for a pulse. That he's putting his neck within asking-for-it distance of a vampire's fangs certainly never occurs to him. "Balm, we may need you here."

Austin Reese has posed:
The wire pulls the pair to shore. Osprey knows his shoulder is dislocated as soon as the wire pulls taught, but they make it back to shore. He's still breathing, at least. But he can feel that air hitting his lungs, though he does wind up coughing up some water. This water is cold on a good day but on a fall night like this its freezing. At least it's not icy.

The dead weight in his right arm gets his attention as he lets her go when they hit the shore, and rolls her onto her back, <"Balm, I think we're gonna need you."> He says over the Bat comms, as he starts to work triage on Ariah, tilting her head back and checking for breathing, despite how cold she is. His left arm hangs by his side for now, as he tries not to move it too much.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I'm on it." Phoebe replies.

    Everyone is within range. She feels the blue lenses on her domino flicker as she begins to channel through Power Cosmic, tapping into the limitless.

    Below her a magical circle appears, ringed twice in heiroglyphics, with lazily spinning, doubled-up squares that form an eight-pointed star beneath her, glowing in Rose Gold.

    She reattaches her grapple to her side, and she focuses, looping her middle and index fingers to her thumbs as she channels the neergy to those around her.

    It tingles. A bit like when your foot falls asleep and you're trying to wake it back up again. It feels warm like a blanket from the dryer, rumbling like the purr of a heavy cat on a chest is how most people would describe the feeling of Phoebe's Group Heals.

    Shoulders may return in place, skin heal, aches and pains fade away to nothing. Broken toes and fingers and worn wrists and ankles mend as Phoebe, appropriately callsigned Balm, heals those around her with her natural healing abilities.

    ... though she is carefully watching Ariah as well!

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    If ever were there a drowned body totally laying on the beach, it would be right now. At least the seawater has washed away all the weird black cosmic spider goo that she'd gotten all over herself. Well. Some of it is still staining her hair. That'll buff out. Right now, though, Ariah is too far gone to hear what's going on. Her brand new allies fussing over her, the gathering of energies. The proximity of Alfred. Such a kind gentleman. Then that rush of healing warmth.

    It doesn't seem to have an effect. For good or ill. But what's there is still...warmth. Heat. Her body craves it, even if the source is not going to give her any real magical replenishment. It's the warmth that surrounds her. There's no pulse, however. Which makes it all the more surprising, perhaps, when her mismatched eyes shoot open and the first thing she spies is Alfred's throat. "So cold..." she rasps, reaching surprisingly quickly for a corpse to wrap around the man's shoulders and push her face right into the crook of his neck.

    For her it's minutes, the process of reaching, grasping, lips parting, and biting. But for those watching, it might be unsettlingly quick for someone who had been more or less dead on the scene moments prior. For Alfred... the brief sensation of pain as she sinks her fangs in, and then warmth. Soothing heat radiating out from the twin punctures to smooth over the sting of the bite. What might hurt more is the way her fingers dig into his clothes, clinging tight.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred is able to get out a choked noise of surprise as the unexpected teeth pierce his flesh, before the almost narcotic effect of the following warmth masks the pain. He tries to pull away but he really was in an awful position to facilitate such a move, leaning over her as he was. All he manages is to plant one arm on the sand while the other (scratch now healed, thanks to Phoebe's mojo) flails in alarm like the tubeman of myth.

"Stop," he manages to gurgle, and after a moment he recovers enough from the shock just enough to pull his arm back in and close his own grip tightly over one of Ariah's hands. From the outside, it might almost look like he's returning her embrace, but he's really just trying to pry her fingers loose from his shirt front.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
As Mike approaches and sees Ariah grab a bite, pale eyes widen.

"Sh-" Mike brings his hands quickly together.

'Don't let the dark
have final say,
Lucia's Light
show me the way.'

With the quick utterance, the dark fabric of Mike's clothes lighten as a holy feeling aura starts to come off of him. Hands still pressed together, Mike approaches, bringing the energy with him in an effort to push the attacker away from the victim.

Austin Reese has posed:
As soon as Alfred gets bitten, Osprey is immediately going into action, moving to try to get around to the other side, seeing if he can get himself a better angle at figuring out a good way to pry her off of Alfred without hurting him, "You've got about one second to let go of him." The metal knuckles on his right hand starts to get that glow across it. Which may actually be enough warmth to actually help out in this situation, although quite unintentionally.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    It's a good thing that others dove for Alfred when they did -- because as Phoebe ebbs off the Healing on everyone, she's forced her catch her breath.

    And she forces her own staff to appear, but the extending one she and Red Robin use, no.

    This staff is glowing like a red dawn, and it is definitely Holy in nature. The feeling radiates off it -- and off Phoebe.

    She doesn't even have to say anything, but she does place her hand on Alfred's shoulder to support the old Mi6 gentleman.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    It's brief. Very, very brief. Just enough for a trickle of blood to coat Ariah's tongue, to send a small amount down her throat, to convert into whatever strange energy actual fuels her body. The infernal undead engine that kick-starts with a spasm of her body. Just enough to awaken her properly. Just enough for her to hear Alfred's 'Stop' in her ears. Enough to feel the different shades and sources of warmth around her. From the staff to the gauntlets.

    The reaction is immediate, she pulls free with a gasp, eyes wide and glazed over. Any attempt at words turns into a coughing fit, her lungs still full of water. She releases Alfred and claws at the sand instead, expelling the seawater from within while Mike's song 'encourages' her to try and feebly retreat.

    Except there's not enough energy in her. Austin's knuckles add to her warmth, which add to her consciousness, which primarily results in her curling up to shield herself from the various sources of the divine around her. Ariah's body continues to be wracked by coughing and choking, but every few are trailed by a weakly rasped apology, over and over, in French. <<S-sorry... s-so... so.. s-sorry...>>

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... she's not a danger." Phoebe interjects. And she lets her holy fade.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike doesn't pursue Ariah once she backs off from Alfred. Instead he adjusts his positioning somewhat near the other three to keep them within range of the spell's effect while trying keeping Ariah out of it. Not that she's making it easy. =

Hearing Phoebe's interjection, yellow light tinged blue eyes look to Phoebe, "No, but still needed her to stop." The musician looks over to Ariah's curled up form and sighs, releasing his hands and taking a step back.

The light fades away.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred is spared from falling backward onto his butt this time by Phoebe's hand on his shoulder. He lets out a gasp of shock, but it's not his neck that he immediately slaps a hand to, but his chest, where there's a lingering ache from Ariah's life-or-death grip. "I'm all right," he blurts out quickly. "Just... took me by surprise." Now he does reach up to touch his neck to see if he's actually bleeding.

He turns his head at the sound of Ariah's continued coughing and wretching, and he almost moves toward her, but the alarm of his recent experience holds him back. "Help her," he says instead, in a measured tone. "I'm all right."

Austin Reese has posed:
Well Alfred says help her, Phoebe says she's not a threat. Austin has no reason to not trust them, so he kneels down next to Ariah, and helps her to sit up. He turned off the knuckles, but there's still ambient heat from where they had been running.

"I think we need to get a fire going or something." He does a quick glance to see if there's any fire pits or anything nearby.

Truth be told he could use the fire himself, he was still freezing and wet.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Let's get everyone into one of the coffee houses. I'm sure Osprey and I aren't the weirdest things that Max's has seen late at night." Balm suggests, and she looks to the shiverrying, crying... well. She was short, but not exactly a kid.

    "C'mon, you too. I'm Balm." she gives a slight smile. "I'll get you a hot drink and we can talk, okay?" she offers her hand down to Ariah.

    "I have some friends with a similar... need." she expresses. "You just gave us a fright."