19919/Demons, Illusions, and Spiders Walk Into a Bar

Demons, Illusions, and Spiders Walk Into a Bar
Date of Scene:	23 January 2025
Location:	Noonan's Sleazy Bar
Synopsis:	Hellboy, Mastermind, and Blood Spider meet in a bar before the meeting comes to abrupt end.
Cast of Characters:	Hellboy, Kaine Parker, Martinique Wyngarde

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Hellboy has posed:
The faint hum of a flickering neon sign buzzes just outside Noonan's Sleazy Bar, casting a sickly green glow over the cracked sidewalk. Inside, the smoky air clings to the low ceiling like an unwelcome guest, thick and oppressive. The dim lights overhead barely illuminate the dingy room, making it hard to tell whether it's night or day outside-not that anyone here cares. The soft clatter of billiard balls echoes from the far corner, though the players are more interested in glaring at one another than the game. A scratched-up jukebox wheezes out an old blues tune that's been stuck on repeat for the past hour, much to everyone's annoyance.

Hellboy sits at the bar, his massive frame hunched over a sturdy-looking stool that creaks with every slight movement. The chipped wood of the bar groans beneath his heavy Right Hand of Doom as he rests it there, fingers drumming absentmindedly against the surface. In his other hand, a cigar smoulders, the ash precariously long as he stares into the amber liquid in his glass. It's whiskey neat. No frills, no ice. The kind of drink you don't sip to enjoy, but to endure.

He's been in Gotham for a couple of days now, chasing whispers about a stolen artifact-a bronze medallion etched with ancient, infernal runes. Supposedly, it passed through some of the darker circles in Gotham's criminal underworld before disappearing. His contacts had pointed him here, to Noonan's, a dive bar notorious for catering to the city's most unsavoury elements. If someone knows something, chances are they've either been here, or they'll show up eventually.

The bar's current patrons, a mix of grizzled hitmen, washed-up criminals, and desperate loners, cast wary glances in Hellboy's direction. He's not exactly inconspicuous, even in a place like this. His trench coat is worn but still bears the faint crest of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defence, and his oversized revolver, the Good Samaritan, rests openly in its holster. It's a visual deterrent that makes most of the clientele think twice before getting too curious.

A muffled argument breaks out at a nearby table, the voices low but tense. Hellboy doesn't bother looking. He's used to these kinds of places-where words turn to fists, and fists turn to bullets. Instead, he takes a slow drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl upward before taking another sip of his whiskey. The bartender, a wiry man with a nervous twitch, hovers nearby but avoids making conversation.

Hellboy is playing it cool for now, but his patience is wearing thin. He's not here to drink or smoke himself into a stupor-he's here for answers. The medallion is said to have ties to a demon he's crossed paths with before, and if it's as powerful as the legends suggest, it's better in his hands than anyone else's. Especially in a city like Gotham, where the line between man and monster is already razor thin.

The faint sound of the bar's creaky front door swinging open draws his attention, and his yellow eyes flick toward the newcomer. Maybe, just maybe, this is the lead he's been waiting for.

Kaine Parker has posed:
Kaine's in Gotham. Not his first time in the city, nor would it be the last. He thought about moving to here or Bludhaven. Jut for a change of pace, scenario and to help step out of similar looking shadows. And the time spent in the city The thing about Gotham is all the places that go unnoticed. Just hole in the wall places lost behind the towering monolithic buildings.

This is one of those places. He doesn't mind how some people may scoff at it. The price is right, most people will leave you alone. However, it'not exactly smooth.

There's an argument breaking over a nearby table. Kaine's sitting a few tables over by himself. He raises a brow while bringing the glass to his lips. The door swings open and a lazy glance goes toward the door.

Just a simple passing by look. It's more curiousity than any kind of hope or wonder. That kind of noise draws attention from everyone.

Hellboy has posed:
The newcomer steps inside, their figure momentarily outlined by the glow of the neon sign outside before the door creaks shut behind them. They pause at the threshold, scanning the room with an almost bored expression. Hellboy's eyes narrow slightly as he sizes them up-a wiry frame, a jacket too big for their shoulders, and scuffed boots that have seen better days. Their hand dips into a coat pocket, but instead of a weapon, they pull out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. With a flick of a lighter, the stranger lights up and trudges toward the bar, giving Hellboy a wide berth without even sparing him a second glance.

Hellboy snorts quietly, leaning back against the bar and tapping his cigar against the ashtray. False alarm. Just another drifter looking for cheap booze and somewhere to disappear for a while. Not that he blames them-this is Gotham, after all, the city where no one asks too many questions. The bartender slides a shot of something clear and probably awful toward the stranger, and the room settles back into its usual uneasy quiet. Hellboy takes a slow sip of his whiskey, his eyes drifting back to the scarred bar top in front of him. The answers he's looking for are here somewhere; he just has to wait for the right scumbag to walk through the door.

Kaine Parker has posed:
The newcomer looks like a shadow against green neon light, thanks to the sign. Kaine doesn't recognize the person moving about with the jacke tthat seems to be too big. People have their own. quirks. So, that's how he sees it. Those brown eyes look toward the person as they pull out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.

Taking the glass at his table, Kaine takes another drink. He doesn't mind the newcomer once the newness wears off. They're not a threat, they're not the life of a party, they're not anything. And so, Kaine just starts to resume drinking.

Martinique Wyngarde has posed:
Martinique Wyngarde is here! Wearing a long trenchcoat that may or may not be hiding weapons, and a large brimmed hat, she comes into the bar.

Eyes moving, very aware of her surroundings, she steps up to the bar and signals for a drink. Doesn't seem to matter what.

Hellboy has posed:
Hellboy lifts his gaze from his glass as the door swings open again, his sharp eyes catching the figure that steps through. The long trench coat and wide-brimmed hat is enough to draw attention. He doesn't recognize her, but the way she is dressed makes him take notice. He watches as she strides to the bar, signalling for a drink without even bothering to specify. Hellboy tilts his head slightly, smoke curling from his cigar as he considers her for a moment longer. Another player in the game? Or just someone passing through like so many others? Either way, she's someone to keep an eye on.

Kaine Parker has posed:
Then another coat wearing person walks into the place. Brown eyes watch them with the same half-curious glance. However, he pauses in recognition. It's been a while, but he recognizes them. He brings the drink to his lips then a brow raises as he watch them move into the place. The drink is about halfway gone by now.

Martinique Wyngarde has posed:
Martinique Wyngarde gets her beer, and sips it, as she looks around the whole bar. Sizing up, as she unabashedly doesn't hide that she may or may not be armed to the teeth at this moment. "Alright," she finally just says aloud.

"Let's either relax or start shooting already. Stewing an staring is only going to get someone killed."

Her eyes flick, and she projects a calming wave over the entire bar, a general feeling of relaxation, which may or may not effect specific individuals. Sometimes a girl with a day job just wants a damned beer.

Hellboy has posed:
Hellboy feels it almost immediately-a strange calm washing over him, like someone turned down the volume on all the tension in the room. His grip on his glass loosens, and for the first time all evening, the constant itch in the back of his mind to stay on high alert takes a back seat. His yellow eyes flick to the woman at the bar, the way she casually sips her beer while throwing out words sharp enough to cut through the room's smoky haze. Bold move, throwing her weight around in a place like this.

He smirks, stubbing out his cigar in the ashtray as he stands. The stool groans in relief as his massive frame rises, trench coat swaying as he steps toward her. Hellboy's no stranger to strange powers, and something about her presence piques his curiosity.

"Well, I guess I'll take the relaxin' option, seeing as I just got comfortable," he says, his deep voice carrying easily over the murmur of the bar. He stops a few feet away, resting his Right Hand of Doom on the bar as he gives her a nod. "Name's Hellboy. And you are?" His tone is casual, but his sharp gaze makes it clear he's assessing her just as much as she's been sizing up the room.

Kaine Parker has posed:
Standing up, Kaine finishes his drink. "WE don't have to start shooting up the room you know. We could just, relax," he offers to the group. And he gives a sweeping looking. "Besides, isn't it cheaper to spare bullet instead of waste them?" he offers and sets the glass down. He'll crack his neck a little bit then roll the shoulders.

Unlike a few people here, Kaine's not wearing a trenchcoat. On his person is a thick black coat, a pair of blue jeans that stick out and an olive green long sleeve shirt that covers his frame. Sadly, the coat covers the shirt.

Martinique Wyngarde has posed:
Martinique Wyngarde laughs, and takes a deep sigh, when her offer seems to be taken. "Hellboy? I guess we're using codenames then. I'm the Mastermind. The second generation, of course." Eyes going to Kaine, as it's now his turn.

Hellboy has posed:
Hellboy chuckles, his smirk widening as he shifts his weight onto his Right Hand of Doom, leaning it casually against the bar. "Yeah, Hellboy works just fine. Real name's got too much baggage-prophecies, archdemons, and all that fun stuff. Prefer to keep things simple." He picks up his glass, taking a slow sip of whiskey as his eyes consider the woman in front of him.

"Mastermind, huh? Second generation, you said?" His brow quirks slightly, the faint glow of curiosity lighting up his expression. "What's that about? Some kinda family business or a club I haven't heard of?" His tone is light, almost teasing, but there's an edge of genuine interest beneath it. Hellboy's seen enough of the weird and the dangerous to know that people don't just throw titles like that around for nothing.

Kaine Parker has posed:
Seeing Mastermind wanting an introduction, Kaine looks to the others. "This might get sticky folks. Now would be the time to leave. Go-go,' he waves a hand and waits to see what's going to happen. Then he points himself for a moment. "Me? I'm a nobody that ran out of his drink, and I'm contemplating a second round. Well, was. I'm between a beautiful woman that calls herself Mastermind," and then he looks to see Hellboy.

"And something out of a Del Toro movie come to life. Probably older than dirt, a wealth of info and someone I wouldn't want to mess with in a hand to hand fight. That's -before- he brings slugger into the brawl," he nods to the stone hand.

He shrugs, "Would you belive a love of beaches and a rotten luck brought me here?" Kaine says and he thinks of some muggers currently hainging around off of Kane and West. The second alleyway closer to West, to be exactly. Yes, he can be a talker.

Martinique Wyngarde has posed:
Martinique Wyngarde nods to Hellboy. "The original Mastermind was a founding member of the Brotherhood of Mutants. My father." She doesn't explain she's less utterly insane than he.

Another sip, and a nod to Kaine. "No codename and you stumbled into a place with a fightfully powerful hellspawn, and an assassin who could alter your very perception of reality? You're brave. Definitely brave."

Hellboy has posed:
Hellboy lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest like distant thunder. He taps his cigar against the ashtray and looks at Kaine with a smirk that's equal parts amusement and respect. "Brave or crazy, hard to tell the difference sometimes," he says, taking a sip of his whiskey before nodding toward Kaine's empty glass. "But hey, if beaches and bad luck brought you here, you're already ahead of most of the folks in this joint. They don't need a reason-they just end up here because it's the bottom of the barrel." He gestures lazily to the room with his massive stone hand, the scrape of its weight against the bar echoing faintly. "As for the Del Toro comment, I'll take that as a compliment."

Turning back to Martinique, his yellow eyes narrow slightly in thought as she mentions her father. "The Brotherhood of Mutants, huh?" he repeats, more to himself than to anyone else. "That explains the Mastermind thing. Guess it runs in the family." He takes another puff of his cigar, the smoke curling lazily into the dim air. "And you're not as crazy as the old man, I take it?" There's no malice in his voice, just an edge of curiosity and the kind of bluntness that comes naturally to him. "Gotta say, though, messing with perception-pretty damn useful trick. Bet that comes in handy when folks start talking tough."

He shifts his gaze back to Kaine, his smirk returning. "And you, no codename, no weapons I can see, and no plan except hoping the beer's cold. Either you've got nerves of steel or you're hiding something big under that coat. What's the deal? You just here for the vibes, or are you tangled up in something bigger than you're letting on?" Hellboy leans against the bar, his tone casual but his presence imposing. He might seem relaxed, but there's always a part of him ready for trouble-especially in a city like Gotham.

Kaine Parker has posed:
"Well, they often say there's a fine line between bravery and insanity. Same for brilliance and insanity," Kaine smirks and then hhe gives a nod. People come here to escape in the bttom of a barrel, maybe worse. Kaine originally came here because the price is right and usually people leave him alone. Ususally is the keyword.

"But yeah. Bad time. Worse place," he says to Mastermind. It's true. Although, they did know each other once before. However, those days seem to be gone.

Crazy? That talk gets an eyebrow raise from Kaine. No real acknowlegement besides that. Although, his gaze will bounce between the pair. The reality altering criminal heiress and the complimented other wordly entity. Kaine refrains from attempting a bad bar joke despite the set up.

"I could just call myself John Smith, if that makes everyone comfortable," and then he looks toward Hellboy. "Usually talk about what's under my coat requires dinner. Maybe a little romancing. I'm flattered, truly," and then he takes in Hellboy's demeanor. The man knows a lot. That's more intimidating than the physicality.

Kaine's hands are at the ready, "Usually a place like this is a place you can just enjoy a drink, be unbothered. So, I guess you can say I normally dig the vibe. Normally, the keyword," and he looks baack to the Heiress. His hands loose, but ready. He has a plan in his head in case things go sideways.

Martinique Wyngarde has posed:
Martinique Wyngarde snickers. "There is a fine line between bravery and insanity, and the original Mastermind was quite mad. He was one of the first mutants, and when he got fantastic powers in an age of great prejudice, he got fanatical. I'm not a fanatic. I have the benefit of the generation that came before, and I can be cooler headed. Focused on business and strategy."

She goes into a pocket, and pulls out a couple bills, throwing them onto the table. "This will cover my drinks, and John's over there. He's earned it."

Hellboy has posed:
Hellboy leans back slightly, his expression a mix of amusement and calm calculation. "John Smith, huh?" he says, his gravelly voice carrying just enough sarcasm to make the point. "Sure, we'll go with that. Doesn't matter, though. I'm not here to start anything with you, 'John.' As long as you're not the one making things worse, we're square." He gestures vaguely with his cigar before taking another puff, letting the smoke trail lazily upward. "Same goes for you, Mastermind. You've got your history, I've got mine, but I'm not here to drag either of you into the dirt. I'm just passing through-business, not personal."

He motions to the bartender with his massive stone hand. "Another round. One for me, one for him, and one for the lady." The bartender hesitates for half a second, glancing at the bills Martinique threw down, then quickly moves to fill the order. Hellboy turns his attention back to the pair, his gaze sharp but lacking hostility. "Figure we might as well make this a halfway decent night, seeing as we've all managed not to shoot each other yet. Small miracles, huh?"

As the drinks are set down in front of them, Hellboy raises his glass in a casual toast. "To bad timing and worse places," he says with a smirk, taking a slow sip of his whiskey. He keeps his demeanour relaxed, but his sharp eyes don't miss the subtle readiness in Kaine's stance or the cool confidence in Martinique's gaze. They're both more than they let on, and while Hellboy isn't about to pry, he files those observations away for later. Gotham has a way of attracting complicated people-himself included.

The brief calm is interrupted as the bar's creaky door opens again, letting in a gust of cold night air. A hunched figure wrapped in a dirty trench coat slips in, muttering to themselves as they make their way to a corner table. Nothing unusual at first glance, but Hellboy's attention sharpens when he spots a faint glimmer of bronze peeking out from the edge of the coat. His gut twists with recognition-it's the same artifact he's been tracking, the ancient medallion etched with infernal runes.

Hellboy sets his glass down with a deliberate clink, his demeanour shifting subtly from casual to focused. "Hate to drink and run," he says, standing up from his stool with a low groan of wood under his weight. He looks to Kaine and Martinique, his expression calm but serious. "But I've got some unfinished business. You two stay out of trouble, yeah? And maybe next time we'll trade stories when I'm not chasing down something older and meaner than either of us."

He tosses a few bills onto the bar, enough to cover all their drinks and then some, before nodding to the bartender. Hellboy's massive frame moves toward the door, his trench coat swaying with each heavy step. He spares one last glance back at Martinique and Kaine. "Oh, and 'John,' you ever decide to share what's under the coat, make sure it's to someone who is interested."

With that, he makes his way over to the corner table, pushing chairs out of the way. The figure sees Hellboy coming and bolts out of the side door. Hellboy pushes the door open, stepping out into the cold Gotham night in pursuit of the medallion and the trouble it's bound to bring. As the door swings shut behind him, the bar's uneasy quiet returns, save for the occasional clink of glasses and low murmurs. Hellboy's shadow disappears into the fog outside, leaving Martinique and Kaine at the bar.

Martinique Wyngarde has posed:
Martinique Wyngarde downs her beer,a nd takes the one Hellboy bought for her. And downs it. "I'd better get going too. Mr. Fertuzzi gets out of his Jacuzzi at 1:15 every day to have a cappucinno and a cannoli. Fresh made by his personal chef. I need to send him the regards of my client."

"Good luck, boys. Be safe." And she turns to go herself.

Kaine Parker has posed:
Both Mastermind and Hellboy toss down enough money to cover Kaine's drink. That means they over paid, "Since they're buying, can I get another," he points to his glass. Because superheroing doesn't pay well. And he's going to take advantage of the fortuante winfall.

"Thank you both," Kaine nods to each of them. "I'm just passing through. Admiring the sights and beauty," he'll look at Mastermind for that last bit then looking back.

Then the door groans as it swings open again. Moving forward is another figure in a trechcoat. Kaine pauses, "Do I need a trenchcoat to join this trenchcoat brigade?" he asks, just nodding to the fact he's the only person standing -not- in a trenchcoat. The brown eyes watch Hellboy get up, "Good to know," he winks and then the big guy starts to leave the bar.

A brow goes up to Mastermind's declaration. He gives a nod, "You, too." Kaine will wait for the drink to come.

Taking his time to enjoy it, Kaine just stays back to enjoy the drink. It's rare when he gets a freebie, let alone two. Thankfully nothing bad happened.