1582/The Bells: Artifacts of Hell's Gate

The Bells: Artifacts of Hell's Gate
Date of Scene:	09 May 2020
Location:	Hell's Gate
Synopsis:	A number of heroes fight shadow-spawned creatures, and learn a thing or two about their behavior... and taste in weapons.
Cast of Characters:	Loki, Jane Foster, Dane Whitman, Reed Richards, Sif

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Loki has posed:
A dog whines.

"Shut it up," hisses one of the figures to another. The group, standing in a circle on the rooftop of the liquor store, just north east of Queens' gate, consists of six people, and one white dog. They've made a circle of ash, and have tied the dog to lay in the center.

They begin to unsheath glowing, light green daggers: two of them, and set them at the top and bottoms of the circle, east and west. From all around, vibration begins to build, as if low, tolling bells from a long way away were sounding. Yet they aren't in a direction, they are right there, nearby. Somehow.

In the west, shadows lengthen. The sky isn't stormy, but it does get bleak, as if a darkened filter was passing over. Instruments that SHIELD has access to have spotted various animal-sized shadowy masses starting to emerge from these darkened shadows around the buildings nearby the site. Yet it's very specific, centered on that spot.

The dog, a golden retriever breed mix with white markings on her feet, looks at a nearby cloaked person and wags her tail in hope? Good dogs get untied and treats?

Jane Foster has posed:
SHIELD's array of sensors range from the mundane -- cameras, parabolic microphones -- to fairly esoteric, reading for dimensional vibrations indicating infiltration from another realm. While she may not have the powers of the Tesseract or a proper spell at hand, mundane science on the bleeding edge of human development does recognize those subtle shifts in matter and duly report them back. Of course, receiving warning is only half the battle.

Jane spent most of her evenings this week in the labs or doing fieldwork. It turns out Friday will be no different, beyond subjecting goopy slides to high candlepower lights, LED diodes, liquid nitrogen and compounds she needs four signed forms in duplicate to apply. When the array lights up, three calls go out.

One: her junior partner in WAND crime, notably Dane Whitman. Information starts streaming in a feed through her phone and tablet to him while she procures a car.

Two: Reed Richards, genius scientist and probable wise suspect. His daughter's involvement in shadow demon linguistics aside, she pops him a rapid text or three with a few schematics to bait his interest.

Three: Bobbi Morse, for CYA purposes.

If they don't have a mutual pickup location, then the mutual meeting location is about a block out from Queens' Gate. Ominous name, that, but it's on the border of Queensland Park where some work friends could gather. Jane has a few other objects in the trunk just in case, an ICER gun tucked away just in case. Her long coat might help with that. Right now, she's busy using the zoom function on her phone while parked on the side of the street and reviewing the bleeping from the SHIELD-authorized tablet in the console. "Okay, so /this/ looks fabulous. Ligting up liek there's no tomorrow."

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane Whitman glances skyward as he steps out of the car, peeling off a pair of sunglasses in oh-so-cinematic style, though it's less cinematic in the fashion he absently tosses them into the passenger seat of the car.

"That's probably not a good sign, but it might be a signpost." He's not moving in that direction just yet, but there's a sense of anticipation to him. But he tears his attention away and starts studying his tablet, seeing what the readings might be revealing. To see if there's some kind of epicenter.

Reed Richards has posed:
Dr. Richards has apparently choosen to arrive today in low profile mode, for him at least. A normal looking black towncar pulls up, looking a bit more ritzy then this neighborhood would expect but at least its not some flying sky-cycle or something. The scientist steps out of the back door as the car comes to a stop near where Jane is parked, he is dressed in a simple black suit and tie style business outfit and pulls a briefcase out of the car with him.

     He walks over to the driver side window and knocks once, before leaning to the cracked window and speaking to the driver. "Herbie, drive it around the block a few times and wait until I call you, keep your ears open" He then smiles turning toward Jane "Dr. Foster, how may I be of service?"

Loki has posed:
There's a lot of activity of shadows and dense forms moving towards that liquor store. The sounds aren't hypnotic, not yet, but there are some distant, eerie sounds: shrieks, like teeth on chalkboard (they lack claws).

There's a quick scream as a passerby encounters one of the big shadows, but it doesn't chase when she runs; it oozes hungrily up the street like an animated black trash bag, as if called by a blissful siren. A siren more interesting than chasing a screaming passerby.

On the roof, the people in robes pause, and confer a little bit, in low voices: they too have noticed the activity around them, and their voices grow eager.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Wayfinder?" Jane supposes, though she is still measuring the different inputs coming from dozens of sources. Their wavelengths leap up and down across the screen. "Truly, the best ways to spend the night." Her own vehicle -- well, technically leased to SHIELD -- is hardly memorable, just another dark, late model SUV with room enough to shove four people and their gear together. Probably wishes it were a Subaru Outback and hitting a trail, but it's not. A towncar, on the other hand, warrants attention as it appears. Her hand drops down beside her, possibly to toggle the locks. Failing that, though, Reed Richards is a hard man to miss. She lends that swift, slight smile in his direction, expression brightening. Tinted window rolled down a little, she says, "Well this is a surprise. Doctor Richards, who knew you'd come to take in the stars out here. Let me cut to quick introductions? Reed Richards, meet Dane Whitman. Dane, Doctor Richards," she adds.

Time, however, is not a luxury on their side. She flicks off the automatic running lights with a twist, frowning a little. "We're dealing with an active crossover situation if I had to guess. Shadows are coming, centered here." She swipes right and reveals a map overlay with a few dots radiating like ping tracers depending on how strong the signal from the acoustic monitors and other devices are. "Last time we missed them in action. Here they are, and we have civilians in the area. It might be a Friday night dinner time or something more specific is in play, but..."

The shriek cuts her off, her expression darkening more than a little for several seconds. "Point in check. They use sequenced harmonics along several frequencies to communicate and stun their prey. We're still working on a white noise array, but our best bet might /not/ to be caught in one place. Not sure I can drown them out with the loudest, most chaotic music we have, but I layered Manowar playing Nessun Dorma, all of Holst, the War of 1812 overture, and a lot of screamo music into a looping track just in case. And earplugs. And noise-blocking headphones."

Hello glovebox!

Dane Whitman has posed:
"It's an honor, Doctor Richards." Dane Whitman is slipping the earpieces that Fitz and Simmons have developed into his ear, and reaching for one of the spare pairs out of the glovebox to hand towards Reed, "You'll probably want to use these if you don't have something already. Should cancel out the hypnotic frequencies. Assuming that they aren't being backed up by magic."

And without further ado, Dane's on his way towards the epicenter of the disturbance. Into the fray, it seems!

Reed Richards has posed:
As his car pulls out Reed nods slowly in Jane's direction, "I had heard that they were using some sort of sonic weapon on people, I have a few prototype ear buds with me, I am afraid they haven't been field tested" He taps the side of his head, "Yet, but I have a couple extra pair if anyone would like to try them out. They completely negate all sonic input, record it, and then play it back on a one second delay with a three percent harmonic frequency dialation. Everything will sound a little weird and delayed but any sonic pulse weapon based on exact harmonic frequency modulation /should/ be distrupted" He shrugs, "Maybe...." He opens the brief case in his hands on the hood of the Shield SUV and reveals several pairs of what appear to be blue tooth earbuds.

As he turns and sees Whiteman moving toward the disturbance and that Jane already has a solution of his own he shrugs, pops a pair of buds into his own ears, and moves to close the case and follow Dane with a small smile toward Ms. Foster and even a gentlemanly offer of an arm.

Loki has posed:
Something changed. The shrieks are suddenly gone. Not that those with the earplugs will notice right away, unfortunately. Richards will, with his delay, though. But the whole of the darkness reorients. Everything, as if to prepare.

It may feel as if the eye of Sauron, that was mostly just taking a nap, is suddenly panning across Queen's Gate. It sweeps through, this thick, cloying darkness, and with a stark surge, the vibrations begin, the tolling bell-like sonic assault starts. All around, the bystanders without ear protection go right into a trance, staring into space. Some drivers of vehicles promptly twist and crunch together, others just sit at intersections while the light changes to green.

Three bulky, shadowy forms slide out of the shadows off of the building near the liquor store, where they had been headed: perhaps just a block away from the approaching group of heroes. A column of shadow curls upwards near a parked car, and then moves, like a ghastly leg being picked up by some 200 foot tall giant, striding near-invisibly across the street to the other side.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Let's just say your prototype beats most things on the market. I have faith in them and your abilities, thank you," Jane replies, stifling a dim laugh. If Reed's earbud blows up in her ear, she won't hear the monsters anyway. A plucked movement and they are soon enough in place, even while she queues up the mashed-up music just in case. Vuvuzelas feature through the interspliced tracks, just to create an additional layer of chaos. Then Dane's out the door, causing her a pained look swiftly buried under a professional mask. Then Reed is offering his arm and she takes a deep breath, pulling the ICER gun and a bag from the back as she steps out of the car.

Softly as they approach, she drops her voice as low as she can. "They respond strongest to fire and daylight if you want to hurt them, anything bright. It weakens their ability to move. Sacred relics seem to keep them away. I'll retreat into a church or synagogue if I have to. No religious items on me that are likely to work." Okay, that's technically a possible lie: on her wrist is a modest, happy golden bangle chased in a few pretty knotwork sigils, bearing the might of Asgard.

The hunt begins, and something visceral in her stomach twists, ripping at the moorings of her equanamity. Seeing it on film isn't the same as this. This produces silken anger that murmurs with the rage of her dreams. "Feeding. Keep moving."

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane isn't often a "jump straight to lethal combat" type of guy, but he's also had a lot of experiences with...a wide array of supernatural creatures. He catches that strange half-sight of the gigantic leg, trying to trace it upwards to envision the size of the bearer of that phantom leg, focusing his sight, trying to pierce the veil of any magical illusion that may be hiding it.

In the meantime, his photonic blade is in hand, flashing to life as he draws nearer the creatures. Hard to get much purer light than that, short of mystical sources.

Reed Richards has posed:
Reed begins his way down the street, with Dr. Foster on his arm. While she is armed, he is not, unless you count the possibility of using his briefcase as a club. As they pass through one intersection heading in the vague direction of the liquor store, a single car, not stopped or crashed passes through the intersection, and swerves around various accident sites expertly to take another spin around the block.

Reed responds, "I could have brought some sunlight grenades and holy water if you had told me we were dealing with vampires before I left the lab you know" He smiles at the younger scientist, "Have we considered capturing or detaining on of them? I know Val is working on figuring out thier language" He looks at her then and realizes his words are likely falling on deaf ears given her music of choice. Kids these days. He shakes his head and begins moving in the direction of the nearest shadow creature, or at least the movement in the shadows that he can make out. Slightly easier now that all of the other movement in the area has stopped dead. He watches almost detatched and anayltically as Dane approaches the things with his Light Saber, stopping in place now to see what happens.

Sif has posed:
The news had come to her in Asgard, when a little bejeweled bird had very sofly whispered in her ear of stirrings in Metropolis. Thankfully, it had also whispered an enchantment in this very ear to muffle her against the very threat to bring the Goddess of War back to Earth. She knows better than to bring the Bifrost's shimmering, fantastical beam close to the city itself -- it would be a startling sight, no doubt, but certainly not the sneakiest manner of arrival -- and rather, far to the outskirts is where she arrives on Typhon's back. The pegasus stallion swoops down out of the Bifrost in a wide spread of gloriously-white wings and immediately, they head into the city proper.

Up Sif brings her mount to enter the low-hanging haze above the city as she begins a wide sweep. Where oh where are --

Oh. There, with the summoning circle and the torches and the dog.

That's just rude.

It's close and quiet to Sif's ears, buffered as they are in magical deafness, but her heart rate rises as she pulls Brumeoalfold from its scabbard at her waist. It gleams weakly high above even as she brings the pegasus about...and then into a steep, steep stoop. Wind rushes as both dive down and immediately buzz the entire affair with the abruptness of a stealth jet. SURPRISE, SUDDEN PEGASUS.

Loki has posed:
The giant 'leg' phases out, as if suddenly a light switch was thrown. The sounds disappear, as if whoever was singing took a breath. Everyone around seems to start to move again... and then the sonic bells return, in a different pitch. It is very obviously adjusting. And during that time, that giant limb moved out of the way. Sharp eyes like Dane's can track that it phased out, leaned over beyond the bank, and became more visible over there. It's reacting to them, positioning, moving out and around, like a calculating wolf or other predator.

The three blobby shadow creatures has become eight, now, and they are ALL interested in the sword, coming towards Dane... and two from the sewer directly next to Jane's legs, moving to snap at her with their massive fangedjaws set in unspeakable black shadowy forms.

Shadow creatures emerging on the roof by the summoning circle paused, but now resume, going towards the group of cloaked people. That is, until a Pegasus comes out of nowhere. The hypnotized people don't react or duck. That means... two of them are hit by pegasus, and go sprawling lifelessly across the roof!

Jane Foster has posed:
Oh, gross. Oozing shadows coming out of the sewers while she's on Reed's arm trying to get a trace on the triangulating shadows -- responding in kind to a wolfpack doing the same thing to them.

All that time in SHIELD training facilities, the relentless pace of yet another grueling rotation has a purpose. Another firing range run, another beating into the mats. No, she's never going to stand up to actual superpowered threats. Routine breeds some kind of memory, when to snap back and reach for the ICER gun rather than anything with an actual bullet. No pulling punches on this one. Dr. Foster, celebrity astronomer, is now /shooting/ a shadow. The thrill of the kill the inchoate wolves might feel is about to be answered with an extremely radiant blue burst. A pulse quickly bleeds off, another smartly shot. She isn't going to bloody well stop, retreating in a jagged step unless Reed Richards proves just how fantastic he really is.

A pegasus slamming into the building top is impressive; it takes her a moment to realize who the cavalry is, but in the desire not to have a chunk of her life force or flesh ripped out, the salute to Sif can wait.

Scientists would be better suited to doing science, but being isolated as the fawn away from the stags isn't a smart idea. Snapping the tactical light under the barrel awakens it, a bright set of diodes ricocheting with borrowed radiance fired up with a very powerful battery behind it. Want to approach her? Ow.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane sees the shadow creatures approaching and drops into a simple middle guard position, ready to strike swiftly when these shadow-hounds get into range. And strike he does, the photonic blade turning into a streak when he lashes towards whichever of the creatures has decided to take the lead.

There's a pulse of light around him, and in an instant he's clad in armor, helm, and cape. A little extra protection never hurts.

He's alert, he's balanced perfectly, and he's ready. Or at least he thinks he is, as he's not ENTIRELY sure of what all these creatures might be capable of.

Reed Richards has posed:
One second there on her arm is a man in a smart suit and glasses carrying a briefcase, the next moment there is a slight clatter as the briefcase his the ground, followed quickly by the deflating suit that just falls empty to the street. Mr Fantastic slithers out of his nice clothes, the blue of his typical jumpsuit on underneath and he flows like water down below into the sewers.EE He taps the side of his reading glasses, to activate the small light attatched, more designed to help him read in bed without disturbing Sue then to act as a true flashlight in the darkness of the tunnels below but he does make use of it to get a look at the shadow monsters reaching for his erstwhile escort. Upon seeing thier forms up close in the light he begins attempting to wrap himself around Jane's attackers and try to restrain them.

"Fascinating" is the only word to escape his lips as he gets a good up close and personal look at the shadow creatures for the first time.

Sif has posed:
Sif looks over her shoulder at the gathering she just buzzed. It is absolutely //eerie// that none reacted -- she realizes now, upon seeing the appearances of the shadow-blobs, who appear very interested in the cloaked people. Around swings Typhon again, crisp and white against the hazy backdrop of the sky, and the Valkyrie aims him down again, this time with an attempt to see about cleaving shadow-creatures before they get too close.

It means tightening the grip of her legs about the barrel of her mount given the fantastical angle necessary to get a good swinging swat of momentum going behind the edge of Brumeoalfold, sharper than regret, and she does a wide curve around one half of the rooftop in an attempt to slice through the creatures.

Loki has posed:
The impact of the ICER makes the shadowy creature jerk back and open wide in a scream-face, that none of them will have to actually hear. The other doesn' actually fully charge Jane, it crosses behind it's friend - accidentally or on purpose shielded by it, to try to flank Dane, instead. In fact, as Jane backpedals, she may see the one coming at her was actually going for Dane. Dane has made himself a big target, and more shadowy creatures are starting to gather up to get a look at him.

Around them, the sonic frequency changes again, louder, and lower in pitch, revolving now, as whatever is making the sounds conducts tests against /them/. The pitch adjusts, a throbbing quality to it, so deep that the vibration trembles through the cement, and then it starts to fade out. It was a laugh but it also wasn't.

Still the small shadows are coming on, for Dane, though Reed Richards intervenes with those that are bubbling from the sewer. When touched, they turn on him, huge maws of teeth opening, and they BITE.

BITE BITE BITE.

It's peculiar looking, like a pile of squishy angry black dogs trying to make a chew-toy out of a rubber Reed. One of them, though, squishes into and absorbs a second one, and the jaws come for Reed with a snap that might pack one hell of a lot more force: enough to pierce.

Dane's sword is extremely effective: and it's almost as if the creatures are drawn to it. It's dangerous but they WANT it, they're trying to mob him, even as they are destroyed by strikes of the magical blade. Killing themselves against him, so much so do they feel propelled (or ordered?) to attack. But their blood, their ichor, is sticky, cloying, and when sprayed everywhere, will slow actions. Over time, they may win by attrition, if they have the numbers. For now, though, there's only about two (and a half, yuck) left, flinging themselves to try to get at Dane, so there may be a break in the eager horde if they need to rush onward or elsewhere.

At the roof, the shadows seem to have a hard time orienting on the rapidly moving Pegasus; two are sliced, but the others go flat on the roof. They ooze towards the circle: but not to the hapless dog, or the people. No, they go after the glittering green daggers. They move over to the daggers as if they were going to feed on fallen prey. The people and dog? Ignored... for now. They just stay flat, and approach the magically glinting knives.

Jane Foster has posed:
That low, throbbing note sucks. It truly does. Give it a second as Jane calls out to her phone; yells at it really, because she's mildly deafened in all this. "Ratatoskr! Play /Canon of the Hels!/ at max volume!" Yes, her assistant responds to Ratatoskr. This is the useful time when turning on the SUV's stereo system happens through the interlocked Bluetooth connection: you know, turning on awful clashing screamo metal interspersed by some of the most chaotic classical music ever created. Not one Holstian planet, all of them. There goes the lumbering of cannonfire, the squealing rage through speakers so damn noisily.

She is no sniper, and the range on the ICER reflects that. She cannot take down anyone on the roof where Sif and the pegasus spiral a dance of folded Asgardian death. Whatever happened on the summoning circle is just at the periphery of vision and she hisses something probably unheard when she watches shadows melting together. /They blend/. Oh, no, so not cool, but she tries to stay back of the sword. They need better options: light, a gigantic rainbow bridge, white phosphorus grenades, something. "Going up!" she shouts -- in Latin -- and runs like hell. "Lift, please!" Or else she is going straight for the metal fire escape, rickety non-standard thing probably out of code. Bad news if any shadows run after her but, hey, a few smart bolts shot in the shadows' directions should scatter them away from Dane, sort of.

Dane Whitman has posed:
OK...vitality-sapping ichor. File that one away for next time, and try not to get splattered. Though these thoughts are at the foremost of his mind. There is awareness, but thought and action are virtually one. He counter-lunges when the next beast moves to strike, continuing the motion through the slash, pivoting, and bringing the blade around in an arc to horizontally slice through the one coming up on his flank. He reverses the grip on the blade and stabs it through the head still attached to the upper-half of his first assailant.

And hearing Jane's request, there's a faint smile beneath his helmet, and flash of light about a dozen meters up, and now there's a -second- big white flying horse zooming down out of the sky, coming down to start trampling some of the shadow-creatures chasing Reed and Jane. Strider might not be available for riding for the next few moments, but he'll clear a path.

Reed Richards has posed:
My what big teeth you have.... Reed is chewed on by the pack of shadow creatures, and it is not pleasant, when they begin eating each other though and move toward him with even larger teeth he decides that the better part of valour is the mother of invention.

He reaches up and slides his rubber finger into his reading glasses, making micro adjustments between the transisters inside causes a small over load, leading to the battery inside to release a massive jolt of power into the light bulb, burning it out in a single major flash of light that fills the area briefly.

Counting on the distraction of his exploding glasses Reed extracates himself from the situation flowing back out of the sewers and away from the massive pack of shadow hounds. He follows Jane as she runs toward the building, away from the creatures.

A long ribbon of rubber flows to encircle the other Astrophysicist and drag her along as he climbs the side of the building skipping the fire escape completely and weaving around and passed the second pegasus to arrive on the scene in the last few minutes, to deposit Dr. Foster at the edge of the roof and begin reconciling itself back into the form of Dr. Richards as he looks toward the shadow creatures on the ground. He does frown at the racket emitting from the SUV stereo system, which of course he can hear, at a slightly modified wavelength and one second delay. Takes in Dane slaughtering shadow creatures, and then turns to look confusedly at the scene on the roof. Apparently he was not expecting several black cloaked cosplayers and a tied up dog, being trampled by a Norse Goddess on a flaying horse. I mean who knows what he /was/ expecting, but it was not that!

Sif has posed:
Brumeoalfold slips through two of the shadows like a hot knife through butter and Sif feels a bitter sparkling of vindication for it. After all, one had bitten her badly enough weeks back to require magical medical aid. That, she won't forgive. She does note, on another wide banking of the pegasus, how they appear to be homing in on the pair of green daggers she'd missed on her initial buzz. Hmm. Her pale eyes narrow.

On a whim, in comes the Valkyrie and Typhon once more, aiming to slice a few shadows again if she can manage it -- but also to flick the daggers away towards the edge of the roof, with just enough strength to keep them atop this surface. Typhon's hooves spark on the roof in a quick triplet of impact, but he's airborne again on the next thrust of back leg. Hopefully this gains the unknowing Midgardians and trussed dog time and space!

As she circles, Sif spots the fracas below. Someone's on the approach! And is that another pegasus? She squints all the harder.

Then someone incredibly bendy and a more familiar personage arrive on the rooftop. Sif in her silvery battle-armor and red leathers salutes with the sword as she flies past and obviously gestures with the weapon towards the grouping. Two limp blobs of dead shadow creature are proof of her magical sword's influence upon them. Sure, there are two Harry Potter cosplayers knocked cold off to one side, but no big, they're still breathing.

Loki has posed:
Dane makes harsh work of those challenging him; the large one that had been focused on biting Reed has one target now: Dane. It screams, jaw gaping, bigger, bigger... inhumanly big. And it moves to attempt to eat Dane, sword and all, with a sudden lunge of dislocated 'jaw' and demonic greed. Hunger, overwhelming, with tendrils of darkness squeezing along the ground, making the very air hazy with the emotions.

On the roof, the dagger does go flying, but takes a demon with it. One little tendril 'hand' was clutching it, and the demon goes WHEEEEEEEEEEEE to the side of the roof, then off the side, falling with the dagger. The other, the demons all pile on as if they were going to argue over who got to keep it. It is as if they were commanded, suddenly, to leap on the grenade.

The reason why may be apparent, they all start to bubble a little, and they begin to rapidly multiply, new little faces full of teeth starting to come out of the thick blobby mass of them....

The sound, the trance, seems to be over, which means the people in robes react in confusion. They didn't think they were gone at all, so they just suddenly have chaos teleported in around them, to their view. Three of them see Mr. Fantastic and just ...stop. "Holy SHIT," one of them says, just entirely starstruck. "That's /Mr. Fantastic/!" Fame is a weapon too.

Jane Foster has posed:
Note to self: write flattering letter to Black Widow on Broadway for appreciating shooting anything at all with accuracy in motion. Jane's talents are many. Accuracy at high motion doesn't work until she actually comes to a halt right there on the cusp of the building courtesy of Reed. It doesn't take her long to swivel, protectively pointing the ICER gun back at anything else trying to strike them down. A brief grin his way becomes even brighter because of the Vanir goddess -- whom she quickly waves to, gun tucked to her side. "Well met, Lady Sif!"

But look, she is still just a girl from Seattle when spotting that other great white pegasus with a glorious sweep of feathered wings, a glimmering moon suspended against the wracked sky. Strider gets that blown kiss over the agonizingly loud noise from the car testing if these things care at all or their bell-song is drowned out. She has another task in mind. Demons piling on the dagger in a growing mass plain doesn't settle right. So she shoots the bubbling pond of horrors. She shoots the dagger and oozy monsters repeatedly to slow their rate of symbiotic multiplication, cagily trying to get to the one being she can presumably save. PUPPERS.

"Flashbang in my bag, if either of you want it. The green one doesn't project the explosion." Okay, a bit louder than anticipated. In all the shifting around, the uru bracelet clamped around her wrist remains just a very friendly bangle of no particular notice, with exactly zero give against her skin whatsoever. Though pity any hungry, angry demon trying to chomp her wrist if it got too excitable. Wrenching any bindings, she wraps her bruised arm around the golden retriever and pulls her away. Maybe at /terrible/ risk but sweet pup is innocent of all humanity and shadow monster's evils, so it falls to her to protect the goodest girl.

Dane Whitman has posed:
The Black Knight squares off with the shadow creature, canting his head curiously as it grows, but not particularly fearful. He starts to move to the attack, but the creature moves faster than he expects. Good reflexes and training keep him from getting chomped on, but the snapped-shut jaws still catch him in the chest, bowling him onto his back, the creature closing the distance in an instant, ready to ravage the off-balance knight.

But that's when Strider clobbers his back, providing enough of a distraction that Dane can drive his blade right up under the creature's chin, trying to roll away before the beast collapses on him. It'd be undignified if Strider had to drag him out, but he'll take it if that's what it comes to.

Reed Richards has posed:
Mr. Fantastic smiles at his fans, and then the smile turns to a frown as he motions toward the dog, "Please tell me you aren't doing anything up here that PETA would dissaprove of, LARPers are already getting a bad name in the media, and I would be very dissapointed in you" And then he respondes to Jane's comment by slipping a hand into her bag, pulling out a grenade and tossing it down into the shadows on the side of the building where the other shadow thing escaped with the first dagger. He touches his glasses and although the readin light is burnt out, the auto tint at least is still in working order as they turn to black.

Sif has posed:
Another salute to Jane with the gleaming sword, wordless, in return for the quick wave.

But oh drat. One dagger downed to gravity, the other still a source of power for the conglomeration of shadow-creatures. Sif grimaces as she comes about in her broad circling upon Typhon's back to see them lumping and multiplying. Damnit.

"Loki, where are you..?!" she hisses to herself, knowing it won't be heard over the shifting tides of the entanglement on the rooftop.

Jane has the trussed dog in control, very good. There goes the surprisingly stretchy individual tossing what must be another weapon over the edge of the building. Now to address that bubbling mire already attacked by Jane's gun. Executing a dismount leaving her to roll through her shoulder and then to her booted feet in a blur of raven-black hair and battle-grimace. The very edges of the blob-bule of shadow is attacked with a swing of the enchanted sword, its path like a falling star, and Sif this time is mindful to keep out of reach of the gnashing teeth. "Typhon, harry!" she shouts out, voice carrying clarion and strong to the pegasus still lingering like a hawk. He doesn't wish to touch the roof's surface, it appears, but maybe a nice hoof to the blob-head will at least be a distracting irritation.

Loki has posed:
The big creature attempts to split in half to avoid the strike-- but the magical sword is just too potent for it. It started to split, but doing so weakened it, and the stab is able to pierce one of the heads. The other 'half' squishes aside out of the way, then starts to rally back onto the attack. The sword is just SO TASTY, can't resist it....

There's chaos on the roof, really. The bubbling mass of demons spawning from the dagger. The people in robes trying to decide what on earth is going on. Two are unconscious, two are staring at Mr. Fantastic, and the other two run for the stairs.

The dog looses two legs from her bindings and helps limp-limp when pulled by Jane aside, her big floof tail wagging fiercely and trying to climb onto Jane's lap. She's a good sized dog, that might not be helping.

Off the roof, the demon that fell with the dagger in a dumpster out of sight, so that's less of a direct problem on a rooftop for everyone to /see/... out of sight, out of mind. Reed's light falls on it, though. It's out of sight, but that probably made things unhappy there. Maybe it did a lot..... they'll have to check on it to know for sure.

Then... There's a pulse of sound. The air shudders with it. A //command//, and not subtle. All of the shadow creatures suddenly pull back, and start to phase out, pulling into shadows, retreating. TOO MUCH LIGHT. All of the new ones (some no larger than a gerbil) start to disappear and fold into shadows along the roof edge, anything they can find. The dagger on the roof, that was under the gremlin-like puddle? It's still there, but crushed, as if it were in a trash compactor. No magic left, no gleam. Dead metal. They sucked it dry.

The creature by Dane also turns and folds back into the nearest shadows, back to the darkness, leaving the ichor of corpses of the others behind.

Near Sif's cheek, the hummingbird gives an indignant /BEEP/ as if insulted that she DARE suggest anything negative of the glorius and gracious Prince Loki.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane reclaims his feet, looking around to see the ichor lying about. The armor fades away and the sword is deactivated for the moment, mostly so he can pipe out over the comms, <<Black Knight to Headquarters, we need a bio-containment unit on-scene here. We've got some more samples from these shadow creatures.>> And with that request made, he switches to the standard channel and calls towards Jane, <<Everything all right up there?>> Either way, he calls Strider to his side, so he can climb up and rendezvous with those on the roof.

Reed Richards has posed:
Reed reaches one arm to pick up his briefcase from where it fell on the pavement below, he opens it and removed a few test tubes taking samples of the shadowy goo remains if possible while also dialing his driver.

The town car pulls up and the front door opens to have a small white droid extricate itself from the driver seat, H.E.R.B.I.E. scans and searches the area at the base of the building coming up with a weakly glowing green dagger after a few moments.

Reed moves toward the second knife looking toward Lady Sif, "Mind if I take that back for study? If I can quantify exactly what they are feeding off of in these artifacts maybe I can figure out a weakness."

He also glances at Jane and touches his ears, "It looks like they were effective, I can have a shipment delivered to Shield by tomorrow at the standard agency discount if you want?"

Sif has posed:
Given it is a construct, the hummingbird's /BEEP/ does make it through the muffling. Sif spares a glance for the wee bejeweled creature tucked against her neck and smirks. "You are missing all of the fun!" she grits out as she takes another swing at the shadow-creature, but alas: they all retreat in an absolutely infuriating manner. It leaves the Valkyrie straightening in place and scowling something fierce. Then, with a centering sigh, the cool composure flows over her frame. Brumeoalfold is slipped into its scabbard with a ringing finality.

Typhon, on high, continues circling as a gesture from his rider as she turns. To Reed, she nods, realizing now she can hear the ambient sounds of Metropolis as well as the spoken words.

"Of course, take it. I am not here to stop you. I am here to deal with them." An icy look is shot towards the shadows, now bereft of teeth. "Your technology suited you well. This is good. I was uncertain if it would defeat their song. Doctor Foster knows me. Should you require my efforts further, she will be able to reach me."

A flute-like whistling brings Typhon down to her and the Goddess settles herself behind his wings, set to leave when she can, the better to report the details of this encounter to those who surely wonder.