2430/Citysoul: The Cityscape

Citysoul: The Cityscape
Date of Scene:	13 July 2020
Location:	Citydark, the Ecumenopolis of Woe
Synopsis:	The Heroes of the City brave the ever-sprawling Ecumenopolis of Woe and make a tough choice ...
Cast of Characters:	Stephen Strange, Jason Blood, Ariah Olivie, Nessa Donovan, Mary Bromfield, Siobhan Smythe

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Stephen Strange has posed:
It is a strange door in a narrow corridor at the rear of the Sanctum Sanctorum that may once have been used by servants and the like in another era. It is wooden and scuffed with a worn brass handle, not at all the sort one would associate with magic. But when the Doctor leads the group here and nudges it open, magic is the only word for what happens.

The door swings wide, and through it lies ... another place. It is a narrow, trash-strewn alleyway. It is a city, and while it unmistakably feels like New York, it is not that. The senses attuned to the otherworldly insist it is a New York that should not be. A New York out of balance. As the door opens, the Sorcerer Supreme ushers the group through. He holds in one hand a clunky, plastic cellphone symbolic of the 1980s. He holds it out to the group.

"Take this. A gift from Manhattan. I can't tell you what it does, but the Spirits of the City will help you when the time is right."

The item handed off; he guides the group through the door. When it closes behind them, there is nothing but a wall where it had been. Even looking right at it, the brain adjusts uncomfortably to the sudden absence of a thing without the requisite moment of disappearance.

And in the other direction? The alleyway branches out to a deserted street. Above, the buildings stretch on forever ...

Jason Blood has posed:
Where last we left our noble adventurers, Etrigan was arguing with himself. Perhaps even more inexplicably, he seems to have lost the exchange! This internal debate decided, he has -not- ventured into the horrible black void that seemed to be his demonic preference, but rather followed several others toward the sprawling cityscape. While he forges ahead without hesitation, that does not mean he goes without /complaint/: "Of these timid choices I grow weary, yet on our way we go. Visitting this place so dreary, no cause to take it slow. Onward through this concrete maze, full ahead without delays!"

Of course, he does delay briefly when Strange stops them with a gift.

"Ooh what's this trinket's measure? Despite its look, I think it treasure!" He holds out his claws, making a grabby-grabby motion in the air.

Uhuh.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah is wary of the artifact, mainly because she has a bad history with portable phones. She does, however, take point with Etrigan on going through the door. She's charged from the apple the Doctor had given her. Funny, that. An apple from the Doctor keeps... something away. Frenzy?

    Be that as it may, she is also a beacon on the astral, her internal energy level burning to a point where the runes under her skin, etched in her bones, pulse dimly like a constant sign of a heartbeat.

    Once she's on the other side and steps clear of the door, though, she stops. The absence of other heartbeats in what is clearly an oversized city, and her eyes, wide, stare up at the sky. The sky that is full of brick and mortar. The sky that is not a sky, but an endless sea of buildings.

    "...where do we go from here....?" she asks, voice full of absent wonder.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Right, okay, does anyone have a good suggestion as to where to start with this or are we just picking a direction and exploring?" As she steps out into the alley, Nessa's making sure her gloves are secured. She doubts anyone will accidently touch her hand, but there's always a tiny bit of risk and there's no /immediate/ danger, so the gloves stay on, for now. She moves to the mouth of the alley, glancing up and down the street for a moment before focusing her senses on magic. If she can find something interesting, it could give a good indication of direction.

Or, of course, there could be nothing and they could just be forced to wander for who knows how long. Ah, the adventure of not knowing.

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt takes the item carefully, looking at the antiquated cellphone with a hint of bemusement. "I'll take good care of it, Doctor." She sounds very sincere about that, even as she gives Etrigan a cautious look, holding the phone in one hand as that is one downside of her outfit. No pockets.

The Wisdom of Athena did NOT go into costume design, apparently. Though to be fair, the bulky phone isn't something she could fit into a normal pocket anyway. Then she looks up and around at the massive alley, and then glances over at Ariah, "Forward, I guess. I could fly ahead, but I suspect it might not be the best idea to 'cheat' in this case." With that, she gestures towards the alley that leads to the street. "Seems like we'll know which way to go."

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
Looking around as they walk, she notes the door and looks to the Doctor and the others before her eyes go to the phone. She seems genuinely confused but she wants to help so...she goes through the door and stares. She stops and stares for a long moment only to turn around and note that there is no door. There is no sky. THere is just buildings. Everywhere. She blinks several times before she hears Nessa speak and Ariah, too. She looks at them before she shrugs and follows Nessa to the end of the alleyway and states, "Never really wanted to know what it was like to live in da Inception world." She states and looks around, "Are we standin' on dat new ting we saw made?" Upon hearing Mary she blinks and looks.

"e careful." She states and nods her head, "Flying doesn't look like it gets anywhere and I don't know if we'd see each other ever again if we split up."

Stephen Strange has posed:
The Cityscape seems to defy much of what might, on Earth, be called the indisputable laws of physics. The buildings stretch impossibly high, some monolithic and others like crooked fingers raking at the sky. The sky itself is grey in the Gibsonian 'dead channel' vein, yet a moment's glance will show the pointed rooftops jutting down through the clouds. The City exists on all sides, crushing and claustrophobic.

As the group move towards the mouth of the alley, something becomes more clearly visible. Though the city stretches on for eternity in every direction, it nevertheless seems to have an absolute center. Like the needle of a compass being drawn to magnetic north, the eye is drawn to a single skyscraper that lies at a confluence of streets winding in from all angles.

In Thunderbolt's hand, the electronic chime of the cell phone begins to play. Someone is calling.

Jason Blood has posed:
Etrigan's head droops a little as Mary takes the phone. Why does no one ever let him hold the magic toys? Fortunately he's not one to pout overlong... except maybe about whatever fight he had with Jason earlier.

"Where we must go, that is the question. Our destinantion's unknown, so here's a suggestion: go with the flow, down these many streets, like a river they flow... but stick with your feet."

That seems to be an agreement that simply flying over their obstacle won't be a solution. He /is/ a denizen of Hell, and perhaps is a little more comfortable with realms that take on designs and forms more figurative than literal, in the likeness of all those those circles with their ironic punishments and tortures. Well, if you believe Dante's version, at least.
And indeed, the streets do seem to merge, to all lead like some vast web toward a central point, more obvious once they've escaped the alley and into the wider street. He walks out a ways, looking up and down the avenue, and turns his gaze upward toward the tower. "Like so many towers and monuments our prize. Like all of those others there's a real obsession with /size/. Is that really it, what makes the heart of men tick? Just an ongoing obsession with the size of their-"

And saved by the phone! Of course, he's not really in the right group to ponder this philosophical question, anyway.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah moves forward, the mouth of the alley being the only way beyond, and manages to tear her gaze off of the 'ceiling' of buildings. "...it is as if we are within a cocoon..." she murmurs, "...a cocoon of brick and stone and steel..."

    And of course, at its center, the middle spire. She blinks at Etrigan's rhyming, following the cadence of it, and... blinking again when he's cut off and the phone jingles merrily.

    Despite the sound, however, her eyes are fixated now on the spire. "...how obvious... we would find the throne at the top office, non...? But what lurks these streets?"

Nessa Donovan has posed:
The comparison to Inception gets a small laugh from Nessa. "Can't say I ever did either. Feels like a pop-up book that's just going to fold over and close." She looks at the others. "I definitely feel like Siobhan's right there... splitting up could be /bad/. I don't think anyone should get too far from the group, this thing is probably akin to a maze and I think /it/ makes the rules." There is, of course, the draw to the center. That seems at least the most reasonable place to go towards.

She glances to Ariah. "Speaking of bricks..." She lets her gaze back to Mary. "I think you've got a call on that monstrosity."

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Ariah gets a wry look from Thunderbolt at that, "I suspect we'll find out, of that I have no doubt." She then frowns, as apparently the rhyming might be infectious. Then she adds to Nessa, "Look, one thing I learned playing D&D, is you NEVER split the party. We should definitely stick together."

Though as she processes the limerick from Etrigan, she does actually blush a bit, not sure what to say... which is when she's saved by the phone! She then answers the phone, placing it to her ear as she says in a jaunty customer-service sounding tone, "Hello?"

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
For her part, Siobhan is still kind of taken aback by the vast and odd nature of the place. She finds herself walking out a few steps and looking up as high as she can before turning and looking in another direction and then another. Finally she settles on what everyone else is looking at. She glances briefly at Etrigan but she was raised in Ireland. She knows crude. She shifts in her spot a little as she looks at that thing. The ringing phone draws her out of her staring and she looks to Mary as she answers before she hmms and looks forward, "I do not tink we wish to know what might wander dese streets."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Directory assistance," comes the chipper voice on the other end of the phone when Thunderbolt answers, "Hold please!"

Immediately, the phone switches over to hold music. Some classic 'Sounds of the Seventies' material, specifically 'Stuck In The Middle With You' by Stealers Wheel. It only lasts a few seconds before the cheery voice returns.

"Thank you for holding, how can I help you?" Never mind that they were the one who called.

The streets themselves are empty. There are clusters of storefronts that are dark, many of the windows broken or boarded up. There are no cars to be seen, no people at all. Just urban desolation stretching on for an impossible distance in every direction.

In the distance, however, there is a rumble. Behind the group, in the opposite direction of the tower, a colossal shape moves across the street. It is visible for only a second, not long enough to make out, and it moves swiftly. The sound of it fades for a moment, before it picks up again and crosses in the opposite direction - this time a few streets closer. A car? A bus?

"That sounds nasty," the cheerful voice on the other end of the phone opines, though none of it shows in their tone.

Jason Blood has posed:
Even if it may have interrupted a choice moment of verse, the phonecall is not directed to him, and so Etrigan seems to pay it little mind. Indeed, the demon takes a rather direct approach to things, uncomplicated by whatever assistance. Identifying the building as their apparent goal, he begins striding up the street toward its towering edifice, cape trailing out behind him with the certainty of his stride. "Come now lets not dawdle on our way, our goal lies ahead and we haven't got all day."

Yet for all the creature's typically brazen nature, that rumble and sudden bit of movement does stop him, hold him in his tracks, and turn his attention back behind them.

"There! Something crosses twixt these concrete walls, passing through our view. Some beast or construct, large or tall, eager to pursue." While he was eager to stride at their lead before, Etrigan turns, and moves toward the rear of the pack. "Go with haste, it may soon attack. No time to waste, Etrigan has your back!"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    The ring and the voice don't seem to take much of Ariah's attention, though she's still rather in awe of the whole of everything surrounding them. She moves forward, staying with the group, perhaps a bit nearer to the songstress that she knows. Siobhan.

    But that rumble, that sound, and Etrigan's sudden movement has her pausing. She turns on her heel and gazes back down the path behind them. "...do we sprint or do we fight?"

    A glance spared, looking towards the buildings around them, "...rooftops... may we traverse them? The streets do not appear to be safe..."

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Getting above it may be tricky, but perhaps we should go for a rooftop, if we can," Nessa agrees, looking at the others. "I'm not sure there's someplace to sprint /to/, unfortunately. I think whatever that is is gonna find us either way, I think we just need to get to perhaps a better position for this." She does sound uncertain, however.

"The artifact's supposed to help us somehow, yes? Ask whomever's on there if it knows somewhere safe?"

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt frowns at the passing glimpse of the... whatever it was. While she might feel comfortable facing off against something like that in the actual Manhattan... this isn't exactly something that follows the same rules. "If we take to the air, that might clue it in on where we are exactly."

She then speaks into the phone, "Well, to be honest, we were hoping to help you. I don't suppose you have an idea on how to do that?" She matches the cheerful, pleasant tone of the voice on the other end, apparently experienced enough in customer service to know the drill, "And I have to say, I really do appreciate the call back. Not everyone would do that." Because flattery might not help... but it definitely wouldn't hurt.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A look to the thing that is stalking them and she shakes her head, "If we really are in or on dat ting..." She looks to the others and then back at the slowly approaching thing, "White blood cell is my first idea..." She nods her head and then looks toward the spire, "And we're deh germs." She nods her head before she takes a step in that direction, "I'd prefer to run if we can." She nods her head, "And rooftops or flight..." She looks over at Mary and points at her, "Yeah, if we go up it might just know just where we are." She nods and then starts forward, "We have a goal, just keep talking to dat ting as we move." She points at the phone.

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Oh hush, you'll make me blush," the sweet voice on the other end of the phone replies. There's a series of keyboard taps on the other end of the phone, and then the voice chimes back in, "You're looking for the Enkephalos Center, on Commitigo Street. Oh! Look here, you're there already. You just need to keep going forward. You can't miss it, but let me give you a hand."

Suddenly, the dark streetlamps that line either side of the street flicker on with an electric buzz. The dirty, yellow sodium lamps cast grimy pools of light on the street as one by one they come to life. Like landing lights on a runway, the pools of light blink in the direction of the building at the center of the ecumenopolis' web.

The rumbling shape rattles past again, much closer this time. Disappearing into the alleyway the group has just emerged from. It's more discernible now. Something like a city bus, though made from what look like glistening organic parts rather than glass and steel. When it moves it seems to breathe, like a frantic animal. It passes only a scant few inches from Etrigan's face before disappearing into the darkness again.

"Can I do anything else for you, ma'am?" the voice on the phone asks, "Absolutely anything. You only need to ask."

Jason Blood has posed:
As the creature continues to approach, Etrigan has a rather simple directive to offer the group. "To quote: 'Fly you fools!', why do you linger?" Then his attention fixes on Mary: "My vote: don't worry about your call, just /bring her/!"

And although the demon has taken up that rear position to guard the group, he now turns back in their direction with his arms spread as if to herd them, and moves quickly down the street. "To stand about is folly, we really shouldn't stay. Chased by that accursed trolley, the lights show us the way!"

Maybe when the demon is ready to run, it's a good sign everyone should do the same!

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah wrinkles her nose, backing up slowly, away from the thing. "...up or down, we must not tarry..." she says quietly, resisting the urge to rhyme. But when the demon falls into step and the lights spark to life, she turns and starts to move as well.

    "If we must pause to engage it, allow me to assist you, infernal..." the small woman with the small, cold voice suggests as she keeps pace with Etrigan. "We must not split but we know not if it is hunting us or simply roaming... there's nothing else here..."

    She still glows, pulsing faintly, only one hand gripping her staff but her thumb rubs against one of the runes on it, perhaps a nervous tic.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Now that there's clear direction, /literally/, Nessa is more than happy to head in that direction with no further question. While she doesn't entirely know what's going on with the phone, things were clearly happening. She does a quick check to see that the whole group is moving, and if not, makes a beckoning motion as she moves forward. "This isn't a yellow brick road, but I imagine we'll find what we're looking for at the end of it. If that thing follows us, we can deal with it, but at the very least we should follow the obvious path while we can. Don't know if those lights will go out, after all."

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt quips, "I'm guessing we should stay on foot and avoid taking the bus? We really want to get there as quick as we can, and well, for us the sky isn't necessarily the limit." She gestures to the others, moving briskly in the direction of the Enkephalos Center.

"But really, we just want to make sure we can help you as best as we can... and preferably stay in one piece to do it, ma'am. And thank you very much for the lights, that helps a great deal." She smiles instinctively, using her best morning-barista voice as she keeps a wary eye out for any trouble.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A look over at the thing that came by and Siobhan looks to the lights and starts moving. She looks over at the others as they talk, even the strange rhyming demon. She frowns a little and glances to Mary as she hears her talking. Her eyes going forward, "Ask the phone about dat bus ting." She states and nods her head, "We need to know what we are up against and it might know." She nods her head as they move, "I do not want to face it and if dere's a way to avoid it, we should have it."

Stephen Strange has posed:
The rumbling dies away for the moment, the strange living bus momentarily disappeared into the darker recesses of the endless city. There's nothing left but to follow the lights, leading the way straight as an arrow towards the Enkephalos Center at the heart of it all. On the other end of the phone, the cheery voice hums merrily and taps away at the keyboard without a word.

The building looms large. Perhaps not the tallest, but certainly the grandest. Flying buttresses, plunging parapets, gargoyles - a building of gothic splendor designed by a madman. The closer they get, the higher it seems to stretch. The very physical laws of the realm bending and shifting around them like they were stones in a swift-moving stream.

As they get nearer, they pass between two pipes several feet wide. One stretching down from the city that looms in the sky, and the other springing up from the ground. Both have writing stenciled on them every two feet. The descending pipe reads 'AQVA MVTA' while the ascending pipe reads 'AQVA VITAE' - the lettering strangely Romanesque given how modern the infrastructure looks. Both pipes come together and seem to run into the building on either side of a great, spinning glass door.

That's when it happens. The rumbling returns, swifter than before. It grows louder and louder until it is right upon them, the horrific bus rounding the corner and moving on clawed feet towards the group from behind. As it moves it swerves drunkenly, demolishing shopfronts and tearing up the roadway beneath it!

Jason Blood has posed:
They've committed to run, and their destination is ahead, seemingly in reach. All the mysteries of the strange cityscape aside, its odd symbolism and mysteries, these are less interesting than the treshold they've committed to seek out. At the same time, their pursuer seems equally committed not to grant them that escape. And, 'heroic' demon that he is, Etrigan did offer to hold the rear... and so he is the first to pause and turn as it nears them.

But even the lyrical scion of Hell thinks better of just leaping into direct confrontation, at least in a place like this.

"I really think we should keep going, though I'll bravely attempt a bit of slowing!"

Etrigan's solution is not to leap in with claws flying, but to wait until the bus-thing rounds the corner and crashes into the center of the street, mauling shop faces and blacktop as it goes. It's the latter that catches his attention.

"Its more than rhymes that I like to spit..." And Etrigan pauses, drawing an overdramatic chestful of breath, before breathing out a huge gout of hellfire, aimed not so much directly at the bus (though, surely, he's not particularly CAREFUL about avoiding it) but aimed to wash over the road, melting the blacktop back to bubbling tar. "... mayhaps this will hold you, like a fossil in a pit."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah keeps in step, saving her words while they follow the lights. The massive piping makes her again look around in wonder, though her brow furrows when everything connects together. And then the sound behind, of rampaging beast, of shredding buildings.

    She slows her movement, turns, and watches Etrigan do his thing. The impressive inferno is stared at, the smaller woman blinking, the ruins under her skin pulsing just a little brighter as she basks in the warmth.

    And then she's back moving towards the door, "...with all due haste... we still have a tower to ascend and no knowledge of what else awaits us..."

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Okay, this thing's getting too close for comfort," Nessa mutters, though her eyes are busy scanning the roadway for a faster way to move. With no clear instruction, she goes with the trick that landed her flat on her face in Antartica. Pulling her gloves off and shoving them in her pockets, she sprays out a path of ice stretching ahead of her as far as she can. Then, she gives herself a running start and skids along the surface of the ice, hands out to create more of the roadway in front of her as long as she's got momentum. It's a little faster than running, looks like.

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt blinks, "Okay, think it's time to go vertical since we're at the end of the race. Hang on!" She then reaches out towards Siobhan, "Can you fly?" Without waiting for an answer, Thunderbolt puts her free arm around Siobhan and launches into the air, flying towards the giant glass rotating doors with a sudden burst of speed.

Along the way, she says into the phone, "Let me guess, we need to get to the top floor? Or is there another convenient door?"

Okay, maybe it IS infectious...

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A look over at the situation that is coming their way and Siobhan looks at the demon, Etrigan. She swallows softly and looks at the others. They are choosing to run and hit the door and she seems to like that idea. Ariah is off pretty fast. Nessa seems to have her way. Etrigan seems to have his...uh...way of doing things and then she blinks over at Mary, "I well....whoa!" She is off with Mary apparently and she clears her throat, "Careful!" She calls as she is pulled along toward the building by the flying Mary.

Stephen Strange has posed:
The monster seems to bear down on Etrigan, the headlights at the front more like baleful eyes casting a predator stare in the Demon's direction. It does not seem perturbed by the sudden gout of flame, speeding through it and realizing all too late just what has happened. It struggles in the impromptu tar pit, flailing about as the road begins to swallow it. The blacktop seems impossibly deep as the creatures struggles and screams in protest, flailing out at Etrigan. Slowly it sinks, slowly, slowly until there is nothing left of it but bubbling black goo.

The cry seems to echo through the city, and even as the creature disappears a terrible shudder tears through the streets. On either side the buildings begin to topple, masonry and shattered glass spilling to the road below. From high above, inverted spires tumble and pierce the ground like great lances heaves from on high. Through it all, the Enkephalos Center stands tall. The debris seems to miss it, all while the city seems to tear itself apart to lash out at the heroes.

Through the great glass door is a well-appointed lobby in green marble. Stepping inside, it's clear it is no ordinary building. There is no ceiling, or at least the ceiling is so far up that it cannot be seen. Rather, the building seems like a hollow facade designed to house what hangs suspended in the air above.

A colossal brain, pulsating wetly. The two pipes run up the inner walls of the building, flanking the brain on either side. Outside, the melted blacktop begins to stir as ghastly figures draw themselves up and out of it. Creatures of living tar, coalescing and flowing slowly towards the glass doors.

Jason Blood has posed:
"... I could say I planned to sink that foul truck, but honestly I just thought it'd get stuck!"

Yes, even Etrigan is a bit surprised that his attempt works so well. But perhaps, in an infinite city, infinite asphalt isn't so strange. Of course, the demon has had just a moment or two to preen over his success before the whole place starts to shake, revealing what might be an unintended consequence to banishing the Cthulhubus in that fashion! Oh well! At this point, discretion proves the better part of valor, and with the whole place quaking, he makes a quick turn and rushes on after the rest of the group to make their way within. He probably makes a somewhat amusing sight managing the door itself.

Inside, the demon looks up... and up. "A curious sight, a silo for grey matter," though he glances back out to see the strange creatures birthed of his last gambit advancing on them. "Let's act quick, those doors might soon shatter!"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    To her credit, for one so small, Ariah is quite sprightly. She moves at a rapid clip, leaping up onto one of the pipes leading into the building and breaking into a sprint, only to hop down again to light upon Nessa's ice and use that momentum to slide towards the doors. There may even be a smile on her face for as long as the ride lasts.

    Rapid pace aside, she awaits her turn to enter the spinning glass portal, and moves inside to take in the sight of the massive brain. Much like she had gazed skyward when they had entered the city, again she stares up and above with pursed lips and a thoughtful frown. Then the demon draws attention to the creatures of tar rising from his fiery assault.

    She turns, and steps towards the glass, planting the end of her staff on the floor and settling her toes within two equidistant points with it. "Do we destroy it or remove the pipes? What says the voice on the phone?" the short woman calls over to Mary, then fixates her gaze on the door.

    "Allow me to be your sword and shield. Your sentinel, I stand. Until we leave, I'll not yield..." God damn it Etrigan.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
When Nessa finishes her slide to the door (she's very proud of this manuever), she steps off the ice to take a look inside, as she steps closer, though, she recoils a bit as she studies the brain. "Is... I don't even know what to think of this." She also lets her gaze fall to Mary. "Your friend there has led us here, I think she's right, we need to find out more from them."

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt smiles a little apologetically at Siobhan, "Sorry about that, wanted to make sure we all got in okay." She then speaks into the phone, "Ah, hello... we seem to be looking at a giant brain, and there's a bunch of hostiles looking to break through the doors, so any advice you'd have would be pretty useful right now."

She glances at the others, then looks again at the giant brain, "Not... exactly what I was expecting, though with a name like Enkephalos Center, I shouldn't be too surprised."

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
Taking a gasping breath, Siobhan nods her head to Mary and then looks back at the door, "Yeah, sure, I suppose dat's fine cause I wouldn't want to be out there with dose...whatever..." She points, "Whatever dose are." She then turns her head and looks up, "Oh, yeah, that's better. Way better dan what's outside." She throws her hands up, "What exactly are we really doin' here? I mean, we got angry asphalt outside and what appears to be a giant brain on the inside." She looks to Etrigan, "Aren't we supposed to be killin' this ting? Don't you have fire breath?"

Stephen Strange has posed:
"That depends on what you want to do, dear heart," the voice on the other end of the phone pipes up merrily, "Aqua Vitae - the Water of Life. That'll cure what ails you, me, and even a floating brain in the sky. Aqua Muta? Well, that's the Water of Silence. That's for the more destructive of us. I'd use one quick, though. Act now while stocks last."

The voice on the other end of the phone grows quiet. Up above, the brain continues to pulsate menacingly. The sickening mess of poisonous green that coats it drips occasionally, landing in splatters on the marble at the heroes' feet. Outside, the creatures of black tar bump noisily against the glass door. They smear across it, some melting down and flowing beneath it like some horrible, living puddle. On the other side, they reconstitute themselves and reach out with clawed hands ... trying to drown anything they grab within their own mass.

Beyond the glass door, the city moves of its own accord. The streets vanish as it literally folds over atop itself, the spires from the sky growing ever closer to their earthly counterparts.

Jason Blood has posed:
"One is life and one its opposite kind," Etrigan points out helpfully, lifting a clawed hand toward the pipes, on the off chance anyone hasn't kept up on their Latin - and don't have the benefit of a ghostly help desk in their ear. And thus to Ariah, he continues: "Which to use, I couldn't say, to deal with this great mind. But the dead god grows, an unchecked sprawl, and in its throes, may consume us all. Silence it, violence it... perhaps that will do the trick. But nurse it back and perhaps it will help heal the lost Bushwick?"

As is often the case, the demon does not weigh in definitively, demand one course or the other. You know how it goes: God, free will, man's own folly... all that jazz. Instead, once he's offered his opinion, he turns to deal with the oncoming rush:

The demon himself prepares to make his stand nearer to the door, for whatever choke point it might provide, although the quasi-liquid nature of the creatures proves challenging, allowing them to ooze through. Leaping toward the first few, he lays in with his claws, although this works about as poorly as one might imagine, not really cutting them, so much as pulling loose handfuls of their goopy forms, and leaving much of the bubbly mess behind, caked over his yellow skin. It's not clear if molten tar is actually uncomfortable for Etrigan, given his known love of pain, but... the smell? It's just /awful/.

"Miss, I have a thought, an idea if you please," he calls in the midst of this brawl, looking toward Nessa. "These things had a molten birth, so perhaps you'd make them freeze?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Is that a decision we can make?" Ariah asks, frowning again. "Are we here to destroy it or cleanse it? It is of corrupt birth, siffering, and pain at the loss of the city... the choice may be clear, to mend tthe soul rather than disperse it...?" she waffles a little as she makes her voice heard, though the words clearly suggest the water of life, as opposed to choosing utter destruction, in the end.

    But she's just one voice, and she's standing not too far from Etrigan is battle is joined. She keeps her distance, lifting one arm, hand releasing her staff as the glow in that limb intensifies. A sphere of power forming in one palm, the runes under her skin shining bright as she sends a burst of concussive force towards the oily creatures advancing.

    The blow sends some back, the explosion of force splattering goop against the glass rather than dispersing or disintegrating them as she prepares another burst to help keep the asphalt-beings from surging over Etrigan.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
The choice of the waters is a no-brainer to save the brain. "Pretty sure we should heal that thing, and fast," Nessa notes, her eyes going back towards the tar monsters, then to the demon at his suggestion. "Not a bad train of thought." She moves closer to the door and its murky brawl around it. Hands held aloft, like she were about to conduct an orchestra, the ice starts.

A small patch of the floor seems to frost over, slowly creeping towards the tar, like a tree taking root. She's not just sending blasts of ice wildly at them, she's doing her best to freeze them from their very core. Not the most visually impressive of methods, save for when bits of tar slowly start to ice over. She creeps back a bit to avoid getting too close, even though it continues to seep its way in. It's a challenge of going fast enough.

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt looks at the group, then at the phone, "I think... it's poisoned, tainted somehow. And I think if we can cleanse it, that might be what we need, what the city needs."

She then launches into the air, a crack of thunder following her as she flies towards the Water of Life and the pipe that carries it. Her goal to cleanse the brain in those waters and hopefully heal it, since that seems a better choice than pure destruction...

One hopes, anyway.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A look at Mary and that phone before she looks to the others and shrugs, "At dis point, healin' it sounds good and fine but pick and do it fast." She nods her head, "We don't have an infinite amount of time and things are gettin' worse..." She watches as the Asphalt A-holes start to come in and come at them and she shakes her had, "...a whole lot worse if things keep pushing this way." She winces as she gets hit and stumbles back. A shudder runs through her and she grinds her teeth.

<"Siobhan..."> A voice softly calls from the back of her mind, <"...just do it...">

Stephen Strange has posed:
In the lobby, the oily creatures swarm. The glass door is shattered now by falling debris, and the city itself is little more than a crushing vortex of masonry and falling glass. The Heroes struggle valiantly against the monsters, but even for those as mighty as they their numbers only seem to increase. Infinite creatures from the infinite city. They close in, closer and closer. The phone that Thunderbolt held cheerily calls: "Goodnight and good luck!"

As Thunderbolt ascends, the choice is made. The brass pipe marked 'AQVA VITAE' is punctured, and the force of the flow is enough to send even the most powerful and stalwart of heroes reeling. The water itself splashes down below like a heavy rain, neither holy nor unholy. Simply alive. The very essence of a living creature.

The torrent strikes the brain, and at once there is a cry that seems to emanate from the very fabric of this reality. The building begins to crumble, and the poisonous filth begins to run off the brain in murky rivulets. What is left behind is pink, ruddy and healthy. Even as the building seems to collapse, the brickwork falling both down and up as though reassembling itself. Making way for something new.

The last thing the Heroes see is a flash of white, blinding and all-consuming. Then nothing.