14658/June and Daimon in NYC

June and Daimon in NYC
Date of Scene:	11 April 2023
Location:	Manhattan
Synopsis:	June makes a deal with the Devil. Cassiel's arrow secured in her pack, left to her own devices in the belly of a tall building somewhere in Manhattan. Daimon is no longer Cassiel's quiver, so everyones happy now. Right?
Cast of Characters:	Daimon Hellstrom, June Connor

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Daimon Hellstrom has posed:
The first herald is the smell of Soulfire. Soulfire smells different to different people, some say brimstone, smells are subjectivel suffice to say it is both distinctive and unforgettable. The sound is equally distinctive, begining with a dull vibration and snapping violently like broken timber until it an audible dampening, like a heavy blanket thrown over a flame flumps it out. But its the symbols and circles weaving in and out of visual reality that really catch attention. Some on the ground where Daimon appears, others spinning in the air, unanchored, free, and radical. Angelic script, demonic script would seem to narrate the effort of appearing in this place and presumably coming from another.

June Connor has posed:
    June had just given a solid kick at the heavy steel door, followed by a stream of language that would make a sailor blush. She's wearing a pair of black shredded jeans and a brown Fratelli's shirt that is cut to be a ghetto version of a crop top, baring her midriff. Her black backpack is open, and she kicks it again. "Piece of shit Taiwan lockpick!" She growls. This was suppposed to be free money. The place hadn't even installed a security system, she just had to get in the door. She kicks it a third time, but it's clear that the door is stronger than her breach attempts. "The hell is that smell?" she comments, wrinkling her nose.

    She turns around and slumps against the door with a huff, only to see the source, the symbols apppearing, and her eyes widen. "Da fuck?" she says, slowly sliding down the door a little to pick up the backpack, zipping it closed carefully, as if it might trigger a bomb, her eyes staying fixed on this strange event unfolding before her.

Daimon Hellstrom has posed:
Eyeing June after a moment spent pawing indelicately at an feathered golden post sticking out of his chest, he approached the skinny teen and then stopped. "Wanna make a deal?" he offered and then upnodded at the door vaguely.

Daimon turns his shoulder enough to show the other end of the long golden arrow, barbed with swooping hooks, to her point of view. "You pull this out the nice way, I'll get you through that door."

June Connor has posed:
    June doesn't answer initially, she just stands there with wide green eyes of shock. She looks at the arrow as he turns to show her the other side. "Uh..." she simply stammers, uncertain to what to make of this strange event. Why does crazy stuff always happen to her? She pulls a small knife from the front pouch of her bag carefully, clutching it as if it was some sort of shield to protect her.

Daimon Hellstrom has posed:
Daimon Hellstrom explained with muted generosity, "You can keep the arrow if you like, its proof." he offered with a sort of amused ominous air; as if he were being deliberately obtuse or fatuous. He'd already smelled the fear pervading her soul, minute by minute cadence that governed her reactions, and read the defensive posture; perhaps she could even sense on some level how invasive a single gaze from the Prince of Lies was, but he was already disengaging. Stepping back. Uncornering the animal.

June Connor has posed:
    "Okay, so um, pardon being an asshole, but..." June looks from the arrow back to Daimon, "Who the fuck are you? You just like, appeared from nowhere, you got some Ben Hur shit through you and you just ask me to pull it out like I'm some fuckin' ER Nurse?" She is scared, but her scared response seems to be to appear aggressive more than to simply cower. What she lacks in physical stature she more than makes up for with attitude. "Is this some crazy superhero bullshit? Because if it is, I'm stayin' out."

Daimon Hellstrom has posed:
"Its just bargain between two entities. Starts here, ends here." he stated matter of factly. "Quid pro quo. This for that. Who knows if we'll ever cross paths again." and then "Don't worry about who I am, just name your price and pull the shaft."

June Connor has posed:
    June wrinkles her nose further. She glances at the door behind her. "OK, innuendo aside, you're gonna just help me bust into this place if I pull an arrow out of your shoulder?" She gives a mock frown. "I mean, I guess," she says with a reluctant acceptance. She gives a 'come here' motion with her hand for him to approach again.

Daimon Hellstrom has posed:
Daimon took the bold steps toward the hellion, June Connor, and then turned and offered his back. The parcel of fine wool interrupted by the golden barb of the arrow head and a small trickle of black blood that since dried enough to cease its motion. "A deal's a deal, you want in there, then you're getting in."

June Connor has posed:
    June skeptically nods. Something about this doesn't strike her right, and that's clear. But, as per her normal behavior, she doesn't let it stop her. She reaches out and takes hold of the barb. She twists, trying to break it, but it won't give. "Shit," she growls. "Sucker is strong." She cuts her hand on the edge, winces, and looks at the blood she drew. She sucks on it for a second. "I'm gonna have to pull it through, it'll hurt like a bitch," she warns, as if she may have experience. "Who shot you anyway?"

Daimon Hellstrom has posed:
Daimon growled his complaint as she worked the arrow free, an arrow that made his finger tips tingle and itch when he touched it. "Cassiel." he said, dripping with contempt. "From the concealment of his speed of course, while I was politely excusing myself. One of mine would probably have done the same if it was in my dimense."

June Connor has posed:
    June gives a slight smirk. "So you pissed off a super," she says. "I been there," she doesn't track tthat this isn't simply mutant stuff. "Aight, bite your tongue or whatever," she says. "On three. One-" YANK! She pulls hard, the shaft dragging through the wound, pulling the vanes through as well as she yanks it free, stumbling back with the golden rod in her hand. "Fuck that sucker is big." She gives it a look over, knitting her brow.

Daimon Hellstrom has posed:
Daimon roared a bit more loudly than was condusive for June's night of planned theivery. He did not seem to enjoy the extraction. His aura lit breifly around him, visible in the dimly lit alleyway as clearly as a ring around the Sun but substatively less divine. He whirled, turned on her, closing his fists and hulking a moment with a snarl curled across his lips.

The awful smell returned, the snapping and popping, the dull vibration that blotted out other sound; and then the pair of them where in the dark. Silence but the hum of climate control, the red light that read "Exit" over the door behind them, persistent and helpfully compliant.

Despite the pain he was soothed, the itch was gone, the tingle of the angelic runes was gone.

"You're in."

June Connor has posed:
    June flinches at the aura that suddenly shows itself, and instinctively takes a defensive stance, the arrow her weapon should Daimon attack. She twitches at the smell as the brimstone takes over. Yeah, this was probably a bad thing she just did. She glances over her shoulder briefly before looking back. "Uh, thanks," she says, taking a forced casual backpedal from Daimon.

Daimon Hellstrom has posed:
A deal is a deal, and when its over its over. Whatever June was up to, it was not his business. Not his monkey, not his circus. He tugged the cuffs of his shirt from the concealment of his jacket. He postured a moment, resetting. He actually looked at June, as if noting that she existed finally. "Hm." And then Daimon was gone, and with it the tension that was both his tool and his burden.

June Connor has posed:
    June jumps as he just disappears into thin air. She looks at the arrow in her hand again. "This city is fuckin' nuts. I should hitchhike to Kansas or somethin'." She stuffs the arrow into her backpack, shoulders it with the barbed tip sticking up like an antenna behind her, and makes her way into the loading station to continue her nightly crime.