3903/Zombie Jamboree

Zombie Jamboree
Date of Scene:	22 October 2020
Location:	New York City: A Cemetery in Queens
Synopsis:	It was a zombie jamboree, took place in a New York cemetery. DJ Necromancer summons hundreds of thousands of undead from their eternal rest to have a really amazing party. Local college students and one dog are held hostage for eventual dark deeds but the NYPD holds the line while brave heroes dash into danger to see this dance of the dead halted before the rest of the city is brought to dance until they drop!
Cast of Characters:	Cecily Winters, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Hellboy, Johanna Mitchell, Levian, Damian Wayne

---

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Even with the 'reunification', things are still bleak near and around Bushwick at times. Police call delays, gang violence, mutant persecution. It's all there. Which has, unfortunately, been a cause of why it's taken so long for a response to reports of disappearances and disturbances in a nearby cluster of graveyards.

    It's late at night now in Queens, under a full moon and a cloudy sky that constantly obscures the lunar light at random, and perhaps inopportune times for dramatic effect. The reports and disturbances have finally come to a head, and roads around the cluster of cemeteries are blocked off by police barricades and armored SWAT troopers mobilized at every gate.

    Thankfully, the walls around the cemetery offer some respite, but there's still the occasional gunshot or cluster of bursts to be heard over the... din of music? The NYPD and several other local agents seem to be dealing with a zombie infestation of some sort, but aren't advancing directly into the green, instead ensuring the occasional straggler doesn't break the border containment.

    A call is put out on broad SOS channels, to summon heroes to deal with a massed undead threat...

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Border containment has always been a serious issue. One that qualifies as tissue paper or play-dough for Cassandra; she literally just walks past police in order to obtain access to the location. She waits til they look the oher direction then walks in with all the casualness of a person breaking into an open turnstile.

Why is she here? Was she expecting all of this? It's really hard to tell, what with the nonverbal...ness. That's a word. Yet at the same time she's not a complete imbecile, walking into a war zone of sorts.

She's called for backup.

So as she steps behind a tree, waiting to see how things go sideways and how badly, she observes the 'infestation'. Got to scout the area for her team, after all. Not that she can exactly radio in the findings. But she's also good at being bait.

After all, Damian is coming. She doesn't even need to be armed, taking his weapons away is like disarming Russia. It doesn't work.

And he's bringing a friend.

Stephanie Brown has posed:
    He did the mash, he did the monster mash
    The monster mash, it was a graveyard smash
    He did the mash, it caught on in a flash
    He did the mash, he did the monster mash

The music blares in the little purple compact car, with Spoiler in costume behind the wheel. The HyperLoop was used to reach New York after receiving the call for assistance from Cassandra. But once they arrived, Stephanie shook her head at grabbing a taxi or using the subway. "I've got us a ride," she says.

Why she has a compact car in New York is anyone's guess. Damian's observant nature would likely note the souped up engine just from the sound of it, as well as a lot of work that went on in the interior. Like a roll bar, and a heavier body that might be capable of repelling at least low caliber weapons.

She zooms over to the location, blaring Halloween music. The little car is nimble and zips in and out of traffic before they finally arrive, parking a short distance from the police barricade and covering the rest on food.

Spoiler swings over through the air, landing on a nearby building, and then jumping over to the tree where she hangs upside down from a branch above Cassandra. "You called?" she asks.

Hellboy has posed:
"So, whadda we got." it was the kind of voice that you could only get by breathing in the smoke from the flames of hell... or being voiced by Ron Perlman

Finger-thick bullets were slid into a six-round cylinder. Exposition was given. Scant facts, list of missing. All enough time to finish loading and slide the big revolver into an under-arm holster... and pick up a trench-shoval.

Everything was nicer than he was used to. Cleaner, newer... He blamed it on the eagle that was stamped on everything instead of the clutched sword. "You guys get all the best toys. I bet your jet packs even work." he groused with a crooked grin.

He exits an APC and mosies up towards a baricade, the clip clop of his hooves coming with every step as the hunched, coated figure shouldered his shoval.

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
Johanna happened to be out for a stroll that very night. And why not. It's a rather beauteous type of night, when the the moon is gauzed by thin wisps of over stretching cloud. She's still regaining her bearings for the spacious city, and its various park locales. Still trying to find, and cling to some type of familiarity of the place she once called home.
    Having not been here for the past year, however... Specifically, Bushwick! Well, there were things that she just didn't know about yet. Wouldn't know about unless she could find a local to sit down and talk with.

That's when Johanna happens to hit the small scene at the cemetary. Sirens. Police cars. Gun shots. The Monster Mash. It stops her dead in her tracks for the few moments it takes her to consider the situation. And then she begins to sprint forward. The little tomboy had never been given into acts of random vigilantism before but there is always a first time for everything.

When at the location, she sees spies a woman by a tree. And someone else jumping into that tree, speaking to said woman. Huh. Johanna approaches, skittering to a stop several paces before. Watching as a--jesus that guy is built--seven foot monstrosity approach the police barricade himself.
    "Are you guys about to go in here?" Johanna asks of Cassandra and Spoiler, pointing toward the direction that Hellboy has lumbered toward.

Levian has posed:
Hearing about disappearances, Levian's been occasionally investigating and sniffing around with the idea that it's some kind of demon trouble.

He hasn't yet officially joined SHIELD, but he's at least trying to send his activities to Daisy Johnson in text messages.

Either way, right now, he's returned now that there's absolute chaos, and the smell of death and decay is thick in the air. "Nostalgic." he says while standing on the edge of a cemetary gate, having jumped down from a tree.

He looks back at the police, opening his third eye as if to denote himself as someone abnormal enough to help, then looks back into the cemetary at large.

From his perch, he mostly looks over the graveyard in search of supernatural things. He can't tell //what// things are, but if there's something magical going on, he can at least tell that much. And the location of any fires.

He does sniff the air, then his hair raises as Hellboy arrives, and he immediately leaps down, hissing. "Are you the demon making this place smell like death?"

Damian Wayne has posed:
     "You have a car here?" Robin had asked, before the car actually showed up. "I still don't see where the car is."

  Damian, well, Robin had endured cheesy Halloween music for long enough that he had shoved tissues in his ears. "I hate this. I better be allowed to stab someone before this is over." He commented, though the compact was still roomy for him, because he is small. At least as soon as he could, he leapt towards Cassandra, landing, he took a look around. "Is this..." He almost couldn't believe his eyes as he saw exactly what was going on. "Dibs." He said, even before the others could get in a proper view. He was already running towards the barricade, his sword drawn.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    There's definitely a quiet moment or several. The scattered gunshots seem to be from various containment teams around the borderline, and despite a few stragglers that stumble around trees and graves like drunks, there's no actual 'mass' of zombies swelling towards the city proper.

    But the potential for that to change, as well as the PR nightmare of a horde of undead not just chilling, but partying in Queens is also looming.

    Partying?

    Partying.

    There's lights. There's fog machines. There's loud music. Someone is having a graveyard rave. It's a dead man's (or woman's, or other's) party, who could ask for more? The living locals, clearly. The collection of Bats that are hanging around and scouting will see that the thickly wooded area surrounding the morbid party venue is indeed full of shambling, sometimes swaying, sometimes rocking dessicated ex-people.

    What foul magicks that animate them seem to take no real issue with bringing to un-life everything from freshly-interred corpses to spooky skeletons and every state of decay in between. Even those missing parts seem to be moving with the music.

    Hellboy and Levian will get a brief from a woman who isn't NYPD. There's a woman with white fox ears, three fox tails, and a crisply professional outfit that might place her as some sort of office lady or liaison or assassin. Black vest over white blouse. Black skirt. Dark stockings. Black flats. She's got a pair of shoulder holsters and is packing a pump-action 500-series that's hanging from a strap. There's a messenger bag at her side but a belt of shotgun shells is wrapped around her waist.

    "Call it a autumn fluke or some sick joke but there's been people going missing right around when October started. Talk of abductions, rumors of loud music, but no real evidence--or investigation--ever brought anything out. Until tonight. PD has all the exits locked down, but there hasn't been a swarm event. It's been largely contained inside at some... kind of rave..." hear ears go flat and she sighs.

    "Heroes' task is to get in there, figure out what's going on, stop whatever's controlling these things, and rescue anyone still alive. They already sent in a monster expert but he hasn't contacted anyone and is presumed..." she makes a hand motion. "...incapacitated?" she offers with a sideways smile.

    One of the captains grunts and jerks a thumb towards the party, opening his mouth to speak before the crack of a marksman rifle splits the night and a shambler about 20 yards from the 'front line' hits the ground with a 'gruuuuuu' and twitching limbs before going still. Gotta shoot 'em in the head? He speaks, "Look, Johnny's been doin' this for almost thirty years. He's been huntin' monsters since he was a kid, but we got nothin' from him since he went in and the music didn't stop, either! You all take care of it, bring those kids back if they're still breathin', and see that Johnny's okay, too, alright?"

    Cecily shrugs, checking her shotgun. "Three of us and a missing monster hunter? Should be enough," she muses, not knowing that there's four others waiting in the shadows to do some business as well.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Cass indicates the direction, not that she really needs to do so. She looks Johanna up and down with some kind of penetrating stare, then shrugs and nods. The grin she gives to Damian and Stephanie both is for them and them only, but she does take note of the whole classic question, as they are all framed for a moment by the police's lights.

The question? You and what army are going to stop us?

THIS ARMY.

Then she pushes away from the tree, flips her knuckles down into place so she can punch without any fear of busting her own hands, and cricks her neck. Her body answers the questions that she's been asked. Yes, I called you. Yes, we're going in. F you and your Dibs, I got here first. We should be enough. And yes, Hellboy smells, but that's okay.

Let's kick some zombie ass.

Of course, the music is a bit off the wall. She wasn't expecting that part, so she doesn't just start punching. There'll be time for that in a moment. Because wtf?

Stephanie Brown has posed:
Spoiler had just grinned over to Damian. "Planning on doing some racing. A literal underground circuit," she told him of the car. She also gave a, "Hardy har har," about the small car joke coming from the one she affectionately calls the murder midget.

Now they are there with Cassandra, and Spoiler takes in the situation. She pulls out some binoculars to look around. "Well, these look like animated corpses," she says. "So not really people that we are likely to find a cure for. I suppose we should see if we can figure out what's causing it before it can spread. Sounds like the cops have the area locked down at least."

She watches through the binoculars as a zombie is taken down. "Head shot. Not sure if that's needed. Also, we don't know if it's contagious. So... ah, let's not get bit?"

Hellboy has posed:
Hellboys haggered features go flat, his heavy jaw firming and that heavy brow furrowing, "Just got out of the damned truck." he muttered to himself... But accusing glares will note a slight cock of his head to the side and a flare of his nostrilsas he plucks at his old, beat up duster. Nope, no death, Old Spice...

Any further demonic back and forth was curtailed by the breifing from a... Fox Wife? Other sorta fox spirit, just some kinda vixy mutant? He wasn't going to ask for a pedigree on the first date.

They're at the gates, beyond the gates... "Do we have a confirmed casualty yet or just a bunch of stray dead heads that wandered into someone's sights?" he wondered of their contact as he acquainted himself with the heft of the short shoval. If he was lucky... This would be some kind of Greatful Dead pun.

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    Cassandra pushes away from that tree, looking like she's about to cut open a can of whoop ass.
    So hell, it must be bust-a-move time, right?
    "Animated corpses," she murmurs after Spoiler says it first, and though she doesn't -visibly- show it there's something to her voice to suggest that the tomboy is squicked. "Shoulda' worn a jacket today," she spits down and to the side. And after a brief second she tacks on, "I missed you, New York."
    Johanna wrenches her shoulder across her body. First the left, then the right. The first rule of zombie fighting is to always limber up first! Or maybe it's something else. It's been so long since she watched zombie movies. She moves in after Cassandra, who moves in after Damian, picking up her knees fast. Skirting the shadows. Avoiding the main catch-up that's happening between the Fox gal', Hellboy and Levian.

Levian has posed:
"That's your actual body, and you have horns..." Levian sniffs at Hellboy like a dog who's just encountered another dog. "Strong... and you aren't eating everyone."

But he shakes his head, and turns to the gate, taking a deep breath. "I'll follow your lead, you're clearly of a senior ranking." he states to Hellboy, bowing, as if following instinct.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Damian was already way beyond the rest, making his way over to the zombies. He would follow protocol of not getting bit, but you tell a former assassin kid that he doesn't have to worry about not killing?

  He was already having a field day, using his grapple as a fulcrum, he comes in low, and pitches himself up for a slice at a zombie's neck, before swinging back and landing with the others. "We should do this more often."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    The Bat Crew Plus Johanna will find that the scene is... odd. At best. At worst, it's a horde of zombies. Zombies moving in time with music. But they definitely look like corpses. There doesn't seem to be an undisturbed grave in view, either. They don't look like they've been dug up, more like small sinkholes of loose earth where these ex-people emerged from, clawing their way out of new and old caskets alike to join the party.

    The music itself is stompy retro synthwave stuff, with a good mix of electric guitar mixed in. Like an 80's movie soundtrack gone wild. As such, some of the more animated corpses are air guitaring, pumping their fists (or stumps) at the air while others are rocking and attempting to bounce. A number of others are bobbing heads, swaying torsos. Towards the center of the cemetery, the music is loudest, and the throng is thickest, but the heroes have to get through the outer groups of party ex-people first! At least the thump of bass that's loud enough to literally wake the dead is also accompanied by lights and fog, a beacon to the adventurous, a dare for the bold.

    Robin's graceful beheading of a zed proves most effective, but he's drawn the attention of some of the outliers, and with a most eerie stride, they advance on the four. Eerie in that their footfalls and sways all match the beat of the music.

    "No confirmed casualties," Cecily shakes her head back at Hellboy. "And this is more synth than 70's rock..." the fox responds flatly to talk of dead heads. She doesn't look like NYPD, but she might be the fun police. She glances up as a helicopter soars overhead, spotlight sweeping the greens. The fox presses a finger gingerly into one of her ears, listening, then nodding. "They're all gathered around the central building, some kind of stage and a huge robed figure with a bunch of 'DJ gear' on a stage. They aren't billions at least but we've got our work cut out for us." Her ears lift and she blinks, "Cages, too. I don't think they started eating anyone yet..." she grunts through her teeth. "Yet."

    Of course, if any of the Bats have a tap on the local frequencies, they'll learn this information, too. How fortuitous.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
So, don't get hit. Eh. She's been watching the zombies move for a bit now, the likelihood of that is medium at best anyway. But she offers Steph a fistbump, pauses to include Johanna in the dappage (Why not, she seems nice), and then gives Hellboy and Levian a huge wave!

Because stealth went out the window anyway, and it's a party!

Still, this doesn't seem like it's a huge threat. She eyes Stephanie, then at the reacton to Damian's assault. Her face is a mix of thoughts, with ballet in her heart. And she walks into the circle of dancing zombies, unafraid. Then she starts to run.

She jumps, handsprings, and lands right in the middle of the mess, her body moving with the music. And she lets herself be bait, drawing the attention of anyone she can!

Oh, and she dances, because she freakin loves this song.

Stephanie Brown has posed:
Stephanie Brown looks over to Johanna, seeing that she's warming up as if planning to get involved. "You've done this kind of thing before, I hope? If not... well, don't use those two as someone to emulate," Spoiler says as Orphan and Robin head off almost gleefully to engage in the fight. "They are a little... zealous," she says, the mask she's wearing hiding her grin, but it's in the blue eyes too.

Spoiler extends her bo staff and moves to back up her Robin and Orphan, going after the ones on the edge to help keep them from being surrounded. Ok, they put themselves in surrounded. /Too/ surrounded then.

She whaps a zombie in the head, knocking it clean off. "Ok, ew. This is almost as bad as fighting Clayface," she says she pivots to sweep the legs from another zombie and then bring the staff down as a club to its head.

"Sounds like NYPD has spotted a building at the center and a DJ sort of thing that might be the cause," she says, listening to the comms send over what's being intercepted. Spoiler turns and two more zombies are moving in unison towards her in time to the music. "Really, can't we just have one big dance off?" she asks before moving to the attack.

Hellboy has posed:
"Yeah, horns, three of them. Ask me later and I'll show you the third." came his retort. He let that hang for a minute before he reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose between stoney finger and thumb. "Sorry, no, don't ask that." he waved his hand to try and dismiss the previous crack, "Listen, lets you and me make it out of this in one piece and we'll go grab a beer and talk about all of our favorite ways not to eat people, deal?" he offered, white eyes softening and a smile hung weakly on his lantern jaw.

Officer Foxy lays in again. "Nothing dead yet that didn't start that way, good." He tries to be optimistic. Maybe this is just one of those things that doesn't need to be shot at... "But what kinda DJ moonlights as a necromancer?"

His heads on a swivel, turning this way and that... and he catches Cassandras wave. He returns it, lifting the hand of Doom and giving it a slight wave. Oh right... Capes. Nobody he recognizes off the bat. (Hah) That's good news though, he forgot his autograph book.

"Alright, looks like we've got some help... Lets wrap this up before this becomes a mess." because zombified capes were bad news.

He stretches his goat legs and takes off in a full run, clip-clopping (or is it trip-trapping?) at a full gallop, trying to barrel head long into the throng and split it like a big, red wedge as he makes hisway towards center stage!

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    Dappage is had!
    "Nope," Johanna replies with a cheeky little grin to Stephanie. One that makes her cheeks go all round, and creates crinkled lines around her aged dark eyes. There is no mask to hide it. Hell. There's not even proper attire on this tomboy. It's all tank-top, khakis, and sneakers. "But I mean, if a zombie rave is where I'm meant to stop, then who am I stop the hand of fate?"
    She follows Stephanie's lead. She seems like the more sensible one of the group. As Cassandra distracts, Spoiler whacks, and Damien slices, Johanna comes in with the high kicks! She bull-rushes a zomb-o on the periphery of the crowd, twisting in a back-spin to bring her heel directly into the side of a rotting face. The cruuuuunch of a rotting skull brings the wrong set of butterflies to her stomach (like, the I'm going to puke, type butterflies), and she has to hold a hand over her mouth briefly to stomach a gag...before she notices one shambling closer toward Damien!
    "Hiyah!" That one gets punched in the back of the head! Leading to more crunch. More softening goo against her knuckles as it staggers and falls forward.
    Gross.
    And it is by this manner that she, Stephanie, and Damien begin working their way toward the center stage.

Levian has posed:
"A necromancer? So eating their soul is ethical?" Levian suddenly wonders, and then goes running on all fours, growling as they head in.

He raises his hands and starts to draw geometrical magic signals in the air with red-yellow fire.

Leaping into the air, he starts to yell, latching onto the back of the zombie to immediately start biting it, forming daggers of flames to violently stab it to an unnatural degree. "Finally, violence!" he yells. "I can finally revel without concern!"

Cecily Winters has posed:
    The fortunate thing is that the zombies aren't particularly durable. At least, the more rotted ones and the ones that are mostly just animated skeleton by this point. Still, the more that get beheaded or bashed or beaten, the more start to emerge from the mists, shambling and swaying to the music. So the unfortunate thing is that more and more are being attracted to the... rather elegant skirmish going on. With Cassandra's moves, it's technically a dance-off now. And she does play good bait. The undead crowd finds the Orphan to be quite popular, drifting in, trying to surround her. Maybe they just want her to crowd surf with them? Maybe not. While they move to the beat, however, they don't seem to have enough coordination for more than that. As such, their swipes and swings and attempts at grabbing and biting are... much more unpredictable than rhythmic.

    Between blade, staff, and less happy hands and feet, a good portion of the outlying crowd in the wings of the party start to drift outwards. But there are so, so, so many. The area of this cemetery alone must be a hundred thousand interred individuals, and not all of them are inanimate ashes in an urn. The partying undead number hugely, truly the biggest party in town for Halloween. Several stadiums' worth!

    Surprisingly, though, despite the violence being done, most of the thrall are enthralled by the music! It's a reason the shamblers haven't broken out of their funk, because the funk is too great to deny. Only when Hellboy starts charging into the mass of bodies is there a larger response, more and more of the dancing dead 'waking up' to a certain degree and attempting to grab and gnaw on he who dares bust their groove.

    Levian easily finds his undead targets ruined by fire and flame, though the rotting flesh certainly tastes as horrible as one would expect. At least by human standards.

    And Cecily? Now that she's noticed the others joining the fray, starts to advance as well, even if she's pinching the bridge of her nose at the aggressive antics of the two infernals on her 'team.' "DO, please, be CAREFUL!" she shouts, frustrated, but can't help but smile. "...happy bloody birthday to me, huh?" she chuckles, picking up speed and rushing in as well, giving up any pretense of 'care' herself. At least beyond trigger discipline. Careful shotgun blasts tear heads off of zeds and reduce brittle bones to dust. The blasts of gunfire start to overtake the heavy thump of the music now that the guns aren't just on overwatch anymore.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Spotting the 'I had that under control' whining moment that Damian is likely to have, Cassandra loses sight as she leans backward. Further and further to let reaching arms go over her, missing as per orders. She seems to have no real concern on her face, happily surrounded by slow-moving dancing targets. One would think that she has no concept of danger. One would be wrong, but at the moment it's actually closer to a very high amount of available targets and a mischeivous streak.

she lifts her legs up, hands touching the ground, and uses them to entangle the arms of the zombie that reached in her direction. A figure four, upside-down, is applied. Wrestling? She grins as the zombie struggles and then twists.

Gently. She doesn't want to rip the arms out of their sockets. This is a throw.

The zombie tumbles, slamming its heels into another that's gotten too close. Then Cassandra stands up, right up close to another target.

Literally nose-to-nose she grabs it in classic waltz grip, with her leading. Then she tilts, spinning it into a circle, to knock down four others like bowling pins. She poses, arms and head back and hair splaying out.

Then she takes a moment to tap her earbud, just relaying to her family that everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?

Okay, who gave her access to the movie collection?

Stephanie Brown has posed:
Stephanie Brown is whirling the staff about her, landing blow after zombie-head-crushing blow. She whirls and throws a batarang which buries itself deep in one of the undead's head as it tries to move up behind her.

"There's like an endless number of these things," she says as she whirls and takes out another with the staff. "I'm going to see if I can't work my way closer to that building the NYPD mentioned," she tells the others.

Spoiler takes a quick run at a zombie, but plants her staff and pole vaults, coming down on the shoulders of another zombie and pushing off into the air. A bat-shaped grapple head whirls through the air from her launcher, wrapping round a large branch of a tall tree and winching her upwards to where she can perch and get a better view of the happenings. She reloads the grapple gun and jumps out again, finding a lightpole ahead she can use to swing just over the zombies heads and forward over the crowd.

Hellboy has posed:
"Cripes, how long has he been out of the hole?" muttered Hellboy as he just began to plow into the throng of corpses like a boat through choppy water. The shoval was applied liberally. The edge served like a axe, the flat, a hammer... The shoval was truely the ideal anti-zombie weapon.

"Don't worry, Careful's my middle-" he began to lie, only for moldy, brittle teeth to bite down into his forearm. Red flesh yielded and red blood bloomed. hyper-dense muscles made sure it was shallow... but it still stung! "Ow, hey, leggo!" A rocky fist cut that problem off before it could reach bone...

But Hellboys troubles were mounting as boney fungers of the deceased gripped, grabbed and pulled. He cursed, swore, and fought on, trudging forward even as dirty fingernails and rotten teeth tried to bring him down. He felt like he was walking through knee-deep mud... mud that bit and, yeah, all of that other stuff. He swatted away the more pesky and painful. One pulled at his tail and earned a kick that sent it's head sailing!

He trudged and marched getting as close to the stage as he could... Cages... Go Go Dancers? No, this was techno, not Disco.

"HEY, DJ STIFF! he barked, "I'M GONNA NEED TO SEE SOME VENUE PERMITS OR I'M COMING UP THERE TO COUNT YOUR TEETH!"

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    Whack! Whap! Wham!
    And it's rejoined by a gruu, wooo! and crackle.
    At some point, Johanna begins to experience a dawning sensation. "This is like, a lesson in futility," she mutters to herself.
    Which is why she's thankful to hear Spoiler's suggestion! Perhaps she should have listened closer to those NYPD people in uniforms, too.
    Spoiler begins to vault off toward the building in the background. Johanna is hot on her heels, interrupted briefly as she hears the red boy bellowing well and above the music decimal. "Yikes, wouldn't want to be at the end of that fist," she murmurs to herself--only to feel a raspy hand trying to grip her elbow while she's distracted! "Ge'off," she squeals--yes, squeals--while giving the rotten corpse a back-hand, with a side-helping of axe-heel to the head.
    Her feet stomp-stomp-stomp across the cemetary grounds and she hoofs it on her get-away sticks to keep up with Spoiler.

Levian has posed:
Levian starts leaping from zombie to zombie, sometimes just outright tearing the head off of the more brittle ones, and entirely incinerating others before he gets to them.

This may be the first time anyone's witnessed him with pure joy on his face, laughing and yelling as the music plays all around them. "Having to repress so much in human society, it can be difficult! But running wild and free, like an Earth bird! Yes!"

He goes running toward Hellboy, leaping through the air to land on the much larger demon's shoulders, then just starts to throw exploding fireballs wildly, to send bone and other debris flying each time one explodes. "I haven't had a pack leader since I've been on Earth, and having one that aligns with my ethical standards, it truly is freedom!"

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Damian kept having fun, taking out zombies as fast as he could, even until there was overspray now on his face, blackened blood long since lost its aqueous properties. "I agree, there's something behind this. And as much as I am having fun. Someone needs to pay for raising the dead." He comments, sheathing his sword on his back, and following Stephanie to get closer to the DJ booth. You know there's too many zombies if Damian gets tired of maiming them.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    It's surprising to see someone being so 'gentle' with zombies, but Cassandra's dance partners seem to be durable enough to be properly used as ragdolls. Ragdolls and wrestlebuddies. They definitely aren't coordinated enough to mount a proper defense, let alone operate together, and they fall, and dance, and spin, and suddenly the girl is all alone with her initial circle of playmates all tuckered out. They groan, as much as zombies do normally anyway, and sort of writhe around on the ground in their dazed, stupefied state.

    Stephanie has no issues getting higher ground, the old trees of the old cemetery having strong boughs, and the interspersed light posts might not be working but they're still more than enough to handle a swinging heroine. The zombies down below that aren't still fixated by dancing reach up into the air, some waving with the song, others grasping at the air to try, and fail, to grab the high-flying Stephanie.

    She'll see Hellboy's reckless charge into the throng of deaders, and also see that response he gets from the figure at the DJ stands. There's tables set up with turntables and computers and switches and things. Dark magic flies from cavernous sleeves, the DJ wrapped in a dozen layers of thick cloth, even the hood sagging over the front, making them functionally blind. Yet it still manages to offer a magical middle finger to Hellboy. "PISS OFF! UNCLE CHUCK SAID I COULD DO WHAT I WANTED!" the voice shouts over the music, booming with the bass of the speakers.

    The cages don't have dancers in them, they have tired, scared, half-starved teenagers in them. They all look like refugees from a horror movie, some clutching each other, some holding their ears, some staring out through the bars with dead eyes, and the odd one or two that are totally into the music and would be snapping selfies if their phones hadn't died. There's also a dalmatian for some reason, just sitting in a kennel cage close to the tables.

    Johanna will easily find the massive assembly of thousands of zombies, a sea of swaying, rocking, fist-pumping zombies and skeletons. It's less of a jamboree and more of a rock concert of sorts. The handful that try to act as bouncers against her incursion easily fall to her martial prowess, but there's just so many! It's a good thing they're too busy partying to march on New York.

    For the luck of everyone, especially Hellboy and Damian, there doesn't seem to be any kind of contagion in their blood. Or their bite. Or their claws. The tingle of the music in the back of one's mind isn't enough to spur the feet to act on their own. It's more of just music and the numbers. Even by some quirk of the dark magic being spun like tunes, Levian's fireballs explode on-beat, punctuating the heavy bass thuds with fiery explosions. It's like the party got turned up to eleven out of a possible five as bodies and bits go flying as the pyrotechnics finally arrived!

    Everything seems to be dancing to the DJ's tune. Kicks, punches, slices. Like some greater power was keeping the rhythm in check, no matter how much the death toll actually rises on the undead minions. Even Cecily's shotgun blasts contain the pulse of the beat. Fire. Rack. Repeat. She finds her feet tapping even as she slides fresh shells into the tube. Clink. Clink. Clink. Kachunk. While it's no detriment to the fighting, or the heroes, it's noticeable. It's tangible. The music is the power here.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Having done in her lot, Cassandra shuffles a bit in place, amidst zombies. She shuffles in a circle, a half-grin on her face, and then moonwalks out of the circle she's created. She crosses her arms and leans against a crypt, waiting for things to get nuts again.

Then she bows out, and starts to get serious, running for the cages. She slides in close to one, pulling lockpicks from her pockets, and starts to work. Unfortunately her bedside manner is still lacking, but she stomps a zombie that gets too close and starts to save the prisoners.

Someone's got to.

Stephanie Brown has posed:
Spoiler sees Johanna dealing with the zombies on the fringe of the music party itself, and jumps down to help her. Watching the other woman's back, she unleashes a flurry of staff blows and then tosses out a disk at another zombie which electrocutes it when it hits.

"We might want to target the music," she calls out over to Hellboy and Cecily as she sees them wading through the throng of undead. Spoiler gauges the distance to the speakers themselves, but then spots the cages holding people. "Going to check on the captives," she yells towards Johanna. "Watch your back!"

A handful of smoke pellets go down between Spoiler and the cages, hopefully limiting how many zombies spot the purple clad heroine as she moves off that way.

Hellboy has posed:
Magic needs a medium, this is a lie. Magic can be bent and twisted with sheer spite or force of will but this ends badly.

Magic that isn't at the finger-tips of a mad bastard... need s medium. Some ritual, focus, or rule... and if that punks medium was music, then someone had to pull the plug!

Blood seeped from dozens of wounds. Scrapes, bites, abrasions. It made his already grim features just that much more dower.

Things were about to get tricky... but then he felt a few more pounds added to the heap of zed that was trying to bring him down. "Sure pal, just watch check your fire for anything with pointy ears or a cape!" he squared his shoulders... because he had shoulders like a damn cliff. Broad and tall but one wrong move and it was a long drop!

He was already reaching for his gun when Stephanie called out... PLans changed, he improvised. "You're reading my mind!" he wasn't sure if that was just the colloquialism...

Instead, he reached up and caught hold of his cousin as best he could before he hauled off and hurled Levian from his craggy fist, driving Levian into the air like a shot-put, with his target resting squarely on that punk mage that thought he was going to show Hellboy his proverbial, magical middle finger without some come uppence!

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    Johanna and Spoiler work around each other in a complimentary manner. When that staff swings, the martial artist ducks! Rising with alacrity to deliver jaw-popping kicks once the staff has made its initial pass. That's right. They're getting them zombies with the good ol one-two.
    Then the smoke pellets hit the grass. Haze is deployed. "Holy shit, you're into the high-tech side of this game," Johanna remarks--star struck? In awe? Does she know who Spoiler is? Or who these other people are? The comment is in the very least a little bit telling.
    Either way, there's not much time to spend mingling. Not yet.
     Stephanie bolts toward the cages, and Johanna smiles--not quite seeing much more that's ahead of her than the purple-clad superheroine, but hey! It's like following the headlights of other cars in heavy fog in morning traffic. It just works.
    Since Levian and Hellboy are working on the punk mage that's at the center of everything, Johanna sticks with helping the gals' out with opening cages by kicking any meandering heads that get too close to their side of the stage!

Levian has posed:
"I'll eat your soul, necromancer!" Levian shouts, heart pumping as he draws more signals in the air, and suddenly forms a javelin out of flames when he hears someone say 'target the music', tossing it at the DJ.

In truth, he has no means to eat the necromancer's soul without making a 'deal', but the demon is having too much fun to care.

But then there are teens in cages, and he has to snarl. "No, //now// I'm going to eat your heart! You're hurting uncorrupt humans!"

He sniffs the air, starting to look over at the various caped individuals when he realizes who the voice came from. "Humans! You'll be eaten. Be careful!"

But then he's tossed, and Levian suddenly rips his shirt open, yelling as his entire body just bursts into flames.

Something about being near another demon, it wakes something up in him, and his entire body is bright and hot, skin constantly swirling like lava that is simultaneously on fire.

His clothes unfortunately burn off, but at least he's covered in modesty flames.

Flaming daggers immediately form in his hands, and he's trying to go right for the necromancer through the air, steadying himself with the momentum that Hellboy gives him. "I WILL EAT YOUR HEART AND SHOW IT TO YOU BEFORE YOU DIE!!!"

Damian Wayne has posed:
     While Spoiler was attending the cages, Damian saw the people caged inside, and his brow spoke more than he could.

  He was an assassin, and he was certainly not unaware of the supernatural.

  He joins the neceomancer, sword drawn and raised. "You are insulting the natural order. The dead do not rise for any other than Ra's al Ghul." Attempting to distract from Levian's overt threats to eat the necromancer's heart and flush it down the toilet or some such.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    It's the best kind of party. There's smoke bombs. There's a light show. Spotlights. Explosions. Loud, stompy music, and a huge crowd! The people not having fun, however, have saviors now at the very least. Cassandra will find that the locks on the cages are... very simple. Heavy duty padlocks that could probably take a couple of bullets, but nothing arcane or electronic, and certainly nothing that would really even impede the silent girl's talents.

    There's almost a dozen cages, though, and several of the teenagers inside will likely need help getting offsite. No wounds, just tired and hungry. The stench of the dead doesn't help appetites either. At the least, there's three people now operating on the caged co-eds, keeping swaying stragglers away while nimble fingers work. Murmurs and sounds of relief rise from the stolen students and even some local mutants. The caged canine starts to bark happily, the sound of a wagging tail going 'fwapfwapfwapfwap' against the bars behind it.

    Hellboy's aggressors start getting thinned out some, Cecily moving in behind big red to spread the love and the holy word of Saint Buckshot. "I. Didn't. Bring. Enough. AMMUNITION!" she growls, slinging the shotgun with the barrel still smoking, no more shells in her belt. She instead pulls open her messenger bag, shouldering an MP7 and dropping precision bursts into rotting skulls to keep the circle around her and Hellboy larger. Again, every sharp crack of gunfire resonates with the beat, spot on and perfect, just like the shambling steps and swaying of the undead.

    And then the music stops. The inferno of Levian being hurled like a ball of demonic vengeans sails towards DJ Necro. The mass of clothes and robes and things is tackled down onto the stage with a loud -THUD-. There's a hissing screech of feedback from the audio, cables are pulled and equipment falls. And the smell? Absolutely unbearable. Whatever creature is hiding in this pile of dirty laundry is even more putrid than the multitude of corpses around. And now it's on fire. So it's like, a hundred times worse now. Even moreso is the laughter. The more burns, the louder it gets. The necromancer isn't even trying to fight back. "I AM ETERNAL! I WILL NEVER DIE! BRING IT SWORDBOY!" comes the loud, echoing cackle through the thick cloth's floppy hood.

    The rest of the silence, without the music, is deafening. Because without the rhythm, there is no more life. Without the beat, the dead have no more pulse to be mesmerized by. Only the magic of the necromancer's hold on their strings. And so, without a dance to dance, they turn to the living, no longer slaves to the music, but slaves to their insatiable hunger for living flesh...

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Steph's arrival is given a wave and a thumbs-up and a glance to see if she's got her lockpicks. Great minds think alike, though that means that she's alike with Hellboy, and that means that Johanna and Steph do too, which means that Hellboy is a girl. Logic.

Which is just proof that you can be a perfectly logical person and have no idea what you're talking about.

Still, the idea that the dead only rise for Ra's is new to her. She should visit the guy sometime. See if he knows any good recipes. if this is a bit out of character, consider the fact that this is a zombie horde and dance-off. Then go on with your day.

Still, these locks are super easy. She picks one, letting free a small group of kids, and directs them away. Then she looks at the next one, snap-kicks it with a hammer of a kick that shatters it to the ground, then shrugs.

She points to the locks, to Steph and Jo, then shrugs again.

But the music stops and so does her messing around. Her eyes narrow, and she nods. Then she flips her left arm and a blade falls into her hands, unfolding like a trick toy. It is not a toy.

And suddenly things start to fall around her. The humans will be protected.

Stephanie Brown has posed:
Spoiler works alongside Johanna and Cassandra, getting to the cages. Someone looking from above probably sees a trail of zombie bodies that must resemble the wake a ship, for more zombies gradually close in behind them.

Spoiler is going to work on one of the locks, pulling picks from her utility belt, when the music dies. The changing attitude of the zombie widens her eyes. "Orphan, keep them in the cages! For their protection!" she calls. "Everyone, stay in the cages," she says, and locks back up the lock that she'd just undone.

She turns then flailing about her with the staff as the zombies stop dancing and starting look for something to eat. "Seriously, I'm not the best student. This isn't the place to come looking for brains!" she complains as she takes out a zombie with a poke that goes right into its head, then swings the staff like a baseball bat at a zombie that was moving up behind her.

Hellboy has posed:
"Damn... really hoped this wasn't how it was gonna play." muttered Hellboy as he took a moment to breath, head ducked low, shoulders hunched as Sheriff Vulpine let her gun rattle off. It gave him time to light the stub of a cheap cigar, his rocky hand cradling the flame his zippo, puffing to let the embers catch.

He reared up, exhaling the rich stink of the cigar in a plume of smoke.

The spade of his trench shoval made a wet sound as he tossed it into the earth at his feet. "You run out of bullets, grab that." he instructed Cecily. The dead loomed, closer, closer.

He drew a few more puffs from the cigar. Calm his nerves, take the edge off... The cigar dropped, stubbed out into the dirt by a heavy hoof.

The Samaritan came free, big, even in his hands. His finger squeezed around the trigger, the hammer drew back, the cylinder rolled-

-Clk-

"Agh, stupid damn-!" he bellowed just as the first wave crashed into him... all he could do was fight like hell!

Levian has posed:
Levian wrinkles his nose. He's smelled horrific things, smells that he generally revels in, but there's something... abnormally bad about //this// smell. "Necromancers are not eternal, they run from the fear of death." he says as he begins to calm down a bit, sobered up by being this close to the caged teens.

He starts to motion his arms in various complex ways, beginning to slowly back up from the flaming garbage. Then he slams his hands against the ground, burning magical sigals into the ground, before a wall of fire rises around the stage.

It's high enough to defend against the shambling zombies, but low enough for the numerous caped acrobats to jump over.

He calls out, for anyone around him, "I'll hold this shield up, to keep the creatures from eating the humans. But I'll make sure that you can all jump over it to kill the music coward!"

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Damian took his sword up as the zombies started to now look out for human.

  Slashes to the incoming undead keep most of them at bay, at least for the moment. Robin tries to keep up with the situation as everyone keeps fighting.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    It's those moments of shattered hope that can be seen in the eyes of the prisoners as their cages are opened--only to be closed back up again in warning of impending death all over again. "Oh come on!" one teen tiredly blurts out, weakly pounding a fist on the metal. Another girl shouts back, "Shut UP, Brad!" Another guy chimes in, "Yeah why'd we have to get locked up with YOU? Why couldn't it have been the two Steves?!" Weak arguments aside, they're aware of the danger now, and that the zombies are coming for the heroes and them!

    It looks grim as the zeds swarm closer and closer, the madman cackling in a flaming, and slowly disintegrating mound of thick robes and overcoats. Levian's wall of fire does the trick for now, though. The zeds have enough self-preservation in their limited consciousness to fear the heat and flame. It's the skeletons that are the problem. Flaming bones leap through the inferno to engage the valiant defenders wielding staff and fist and sword. It's getting pretty metal on stage here now.

    Cecily, in the meantime, eyes the shovel for a moment, quirking a brow at Hellboy while taking a moment to reload. "Duly noted, thank you," she says, short and clipped but not insincere, before engaging with her smaller caliber PDW as the horde closes in with purpose. "I've got a few mags left, and the pistols," she explains between bursts, backing closer to Big Red slowly. "...and my own fire," she adds as lurching bodies fall closer and closer to her muddy shoes. At least her blouse isn't covered in blood again. Yet.

    "Kill the DJ! Slay the necromancer! GEEK THE MAGE!" yells someone, muffled, from inside the building behind the stage. With the music stopped now, there's clearly a fight going on inside of the building, as a zombie explodes out of a window and crashes through one of the remaining tables on the stage.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
The look that Cassandra turns on Brad is one of those that turns the strongest men weak. She has a darkness in her eyes that goes beyond the simple 'shut the hell up' and into less happy territory. Then she's working and there's not a lot of time for idle chitchat.

Levian's raised a shield. Steph and Johanna can handle it, with that shield up. And once she's aware of that fact she's on top of a cage, then she's leaping from cage to cage, over the shield, out over the field, and lands in a run.

If you've never had a dedicated assassin chasing you before, you likely don't know the feeling, but her eyes are locked on the target. She skirts past skeletons and zombies and anything else that gets in her path, ignoring them. She imbeds her sword in a wall at one point, using it as a launching pad. She arcs into the air, her body arching as she does, and she puts on her right punching knuckle.

Because she's homing in for the big-ass pile of flaming robes, her right hook on Defcon Five.

Hellboy has posed:
Its all, all just horrible, kicking and punching. A swing of his dread fist sends several zombie pin-wheeling almost comically into the air. He's back on his hooves, half-ragged, his shirt and jacket in tatters... Thats going to take a lot of work later. You don't just find size 7ft Demon in Dillards. The dud pistol is used like a bludgeon, its weight caving through skulls or smashing jaws. He's on his figurative heels when he runs into a wall.

Not a wall, an angel, wings spread wide, a sword thrust to the heavens, eyes turned towards the stars.

A grave marker...

While he hesitates, a clubbing blow from a zombie with some muscles left on it makes him see stars.

"Nhf... Sorry Lady."

He reaches up and with a sharp crack, he's armed... with her arm, and her sword.

He lays back in, it doesn't have an edge but with how hard he's swinging it, it doesn't matter, hewing through the crowd or clobbering them

He holsters the useless gun. Fumbling into his jacket for trinkets or charms. He knew there were zombies, let him prepare. Dip into a stash, read up...

He found it, a vial, glass. He was glad it hadn't already been shattered...

Panting with effort, he spoke a few words of latin. A prayer, something about being hungry, slaking thirst, granting respite. It... it wasn't a prayer for himself. It was an invitation. He crushed the vial. Blood. it was blood. A lure.

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    Johanna and Spoiler hold the fort behind Levian's flame shield. Zombies that crawl up onto the stage catch a a sole full of rubber to their rotting, yellow teeth. Or a staff jab to the skull. Either or.
    The tomboy martial artist mentions to Spoiler as Cassandra jumps in to do her assassination thing, "Oh, shit, she's going for it!"

Levian has posed:
Levian stands up straight, well, hunched, still maintaining his fire shield, so he doesn't use any other magic. Instead he goes running at the skeletons, jumping on one as he just starts yanking at its rib cage, then leans in to bite its collar bone.

He's only a bit stronger than a peak human, nothing //too// abnormally supernatural, but it's at least enough to bite and attack some skeletons.

His body is super heated right now, though for the skeletons that might not be enough for them to worry. "Demon!" he calls after Hellboy. "Do you have one of those human guns that shoots lots of scattered metal at once???"

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Brad shrinks. If he could disappear, he would. If he hadn't been starving and probably dehydrated, he'd soil himself. It's definitely a look that he's given, though, and all that's returned is a whimper. Cass has an easy time of traversal with her advantage on the high ground, and a really obvious target, especially after the callout through the window. The stench, though, is unbearable. The flames devouring layer after layer of thick robe and coat are also very hot.

    But that fist strikes true, and goes in, deep. Deeper. For the silent assassin, there's.. no body to strike. No human form. No beating heart. Just more clothes. Until somewhere, inside, that center mass... Cassandra will find the unbeating heart, the -thing- that truly lies within the center of this cackling mass of terror and music.

    For the defenders of the hostages, the flame shield and solid boots and staff are more than enough to repel the zombies and even the skeletons. Levian finds that the skeletons are no stronger than a human, and the magic holding them together starts to wane more and more with Cass's efforts.

    Hellboy is positively swarmed. He's big. He's already bloody. He's probably really tasty. Something about cinnamon and demons and red? Regardless, he's a juicy target despite the whole giant stone sword thing going on. The zeds and skeletons aren't nearly durable enough to withstand the assault. Even the more recently interred, some completely with spotless suits, go down from a good cleaving swing. And when that blood vial is ruptured? It's a dinner bell. While a good portion remain near the hostages, the majority make that horrid mixture of weird zombie noises and surge towards Hellboy. And by virtue of proximity, Cecily, too.

    The fox is leaving a trail of brass as she gets pushed back, trying to keep the area around her open, but her objective has been reduced to 'thin the herd' and what's running thin is her ammunition. Four extended mags later and she's stuffing her MP7 back into her messenger bag, switching for the pistols strapped to her shoulders. "The music stopped, why aren't they stopping?" she yells out, unaware of the business on stage. At the least with two guns and quick shots she can drop two targets at once, arms pointing in different directions as she widens her cone of fire with two handguns.

    "TEX!" the voice from inside the building yells, and a man in jeans and blue flannel smashes through a window, mop of blonde hair stuffed in under a red baseball cap. He's diving for the... dalmatian? Heavy boots hit the stage, then the lock on the dog's kennel. The heel of a hiking boot is enough to snap the metal, and the dog leaps out, full of energy. A moment is taken to ruffle the canine's head, and then the man's free hand pulls a big chunk of a pistol off of the holster at his hip and loads that looks like some kind of flare magazine into it. "Sorry! Was cleaning up the catacombs!" he shouts by way of apology, shooting exploding fireballs from the huge pistol into the crowd of zombies. The dalmatian, to his credit, tackles a skeleton and starts gnawing on the bones, ripping the undead thing to bits.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Striking nothing is positively anticlimactic. The flames burn her, but Cassandra Cain is nothing if not annoyed already and ready to treat this like it was a steam bath, not a flaming pyre. She snarls, she buries her hand in deep, and grasps what she finds, deep inside the flowing target.

"Rats," she says, squinching up her nose. She knows a colloquialism? I snide remark? One wouldn't put it past her or the crowd she hangs with, but a moment later the comment is shown to be...not.

The hand she rips out holds nothing more than what she said. A rat. It appears to be already dead, but she peers at it, partially on fire, and bares her teeth. The look suggests she's almost ready to bite IT'S head off at this point. Aw, Brad would be jealous. She's sharing.

And her hand tightens, crushing the rat in her deadly grip. It's already dead, so ...yeah.

Hellboy has posed:
Maybe there's something, a taste of hell. Some kind of End of Days Umami. The sacriment was meant to set the starved dead onto some sacrificial bull. Thats how the ritual went. Sate their hunger so that they could forgive their grudges and move on...

But the only load of bull that Hellboy had on hand was himself.

They came and he leaned in, carving swaths with each sweep of his arms, his two and the borrowed one. Like a scythe in a wheat field... Only that stalks stalked forward over fallen sheaves and took a bite. His skin was tought, a thick red hide that still yeilded to tooth, nail or pokey bone. Muscle was harder, like boot leather. He could take it though, it hurt like hell but-

Why'd Levian want a scatter gun?

"YEAH!" he answered as the sword broke... it could only crash through so much bone and meat. He drew it around, grasped it by the wrist.

What seemed like a world away, a SHIELD apc idled. The driver scrolled through their phone. Inside, a rack of various weapons resided in an overhead compartment.

"ON THE DAMN TRUCK!"

Levian has posed:
"I can't keep up a shield this large and throw fire, so I'll have to improvise... rip and tear, demon, rip and tear!" Levian rips the spine from one of the fallen skeletons, releasing the fire from around his body in order to keep from damaging the bone. Then just starts running around naked, swinging the spine into any of the skeletons that get near the few cages he's trying to protect himself.

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    "Who are you?" Johanna asks the strange man that, literally, just dived out of a window and kicked the /living shit/ out of a metal lock. To get the dog out. She's bewildered. She's confused. She still has fighting to do! Like an acrobat she maintains the stage. Working with Spoiler in a manner that is complimentary to each's style. But it eventually puts her the same sort of air-space as Tex and Mr. Pistol Fireball guy.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    It's the rat. The rat that did it. Whatever fel power was flowing through the pre-deceased rodent, the control it has over the undead breaks completely when it's revealed. The stench is ridiculous, the rat has been dead for at least a month. And the clothes smolder merrily on the stage. All around, the zombie assault wanes, slows, and stops. Like confused drunkards after last call when the bar closes, they... shamble, mumble, sway and... start to wander away.

    With such a huge quantity, it might be cause for concern that they're scattering, but some pause in front of graves and start to burrow into the turned earth, like tired people getting home from a long drive and crawling into their beds. It's... a sight, for sure, as more and more wander back to their sites of eternal rest. The college kids can sympathize, heading back home after a wicked party and just being so exhausted you feel dead. Except in this case, it's literally. They partied way too hard. To say nothing of the hundreds that are scattered and savaged and beaten during the hero-crewed mosh pit.

    Even the zombies and skeletons that had been trying to get a midnight snack out of Hellboy and aren't smashed to gobs depart for their graves, too. Cecily herself is left with two empty handguns, hands burning bright with blue-white flame as she prepares for her own little sort of last stand, only to have her would-be executioners stumble off into the night. Her ears droop and she pants, cradling the small orbs of flame. "...hells... is this it? Are we done?" she asks, her clothes torn in places, blood staining her blouse. Most tragic, the fur on her tails is bloody and matted some.

    The blonde man, smelling like sulphur from the flare pistol, just grins at Johanna. "Dash. Johnny Dash. Monster hunter!" he jerks a thumb at the dalmatian who is happily gnawing on a leg bone. "And that's Tex. We've been hunting monsters since the 90's..." he sighs, staring at the dead rat. "Yep, Chuck again... he's..." The blonde is cut off and a disembodied head poofs into existence over the stage, hovering and cackling like some sort of Wizard of Oz wannabe. Red eyes. Pointed ears. Grey skin. Fangs. Some kind of giant vampire head. "CURSE YOU, HEROES! YOU RUINED MY PLANS FOR A NEVER-ENDING RAVE THAT WOULD HAVE MADE THE LIVING DANCE UNTIL THEY DIED!" his voice booms.

    Johnny just raises his flare gun and puts a flaming dart in the hover-head's forehead. Or fivehead. He's bald. "OW! I'll get you NEXT YEAR at my next MONSTER BASH!" he scowls, before the flames envelope him and the ashes flutter to the floor of the stage. "...maybe he'll actually bring some werewolves or witches or something next time. The dead rat thing is so 1978... Like I said, sorry, was clearing out the underground. You wouldn't BELIEVE the stash of candy that was dumped in there!" he laughs.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Still kind of on-fire, Cassandra stares at the rat. She still has this minor snarl on her lips, the smell alone enough to get to her. The fact that it did all of this..more.

However, she has a good way to get some closure. She turns, then bares her teeth and blows through them, an ear-piering whistle cutting through the din like a sword through concrete. Then she waves toward Hellboy, waving with serious animation. She mimes firing a gun with one hand. Then hauls back and whips the Rat into the air, as high as she possibly can.

Boy'd better have gotten that pistol loaded by now. Pull.

Oh, and then she starts trying to put herself out. Because HOLY F FIRE SUCKS!

Hellboy has posed:
Hellboy slumps, falling back against a small crypt.. He slides down into a seat.

He'll just breath now... That was the plan. Cassandra is waving her hands in the air like she just doesn't- Oh, she threw some- A rat? A cowboy?

What in the hell was this all about?!

...'Least the dog was alright.

He pulled out the big, dumb revolver. The first was a dud because sometimes the world hated Hellboy. The second-?!

The hammer drew back, the cylinder rolled... and a bullet as big as the tip of Hellboys thumb came drilling out of the end of the barrel.

He was a pretty good shot every now and then.

Johanna Mitchell has posed:
    Johanna just stares at Johnny.
    No really. She just stares. Then she glances toward Cassandra. And she looks in the direction of Hellboy and Cecily... Then Johnny again.
    Too much.
    Too much for one night. Plus all the zombies are going away. She sticks around long enough to watch Hellboy get a hole-in-one on the rat as it flies up into the air. Rat blood splatters down. It's a thing. Johanna brings her hands together and claps an exact total of three times before grabbing her phone out from her pocket.
    "I... I'm going to go call myself an Uber now... Jesus. Jesus Christ on a stick. Is this how it always is in this side of town? No wonder why the rent here was cheaper. I thought it was just an infestation of bed bugs or something in these apartments."

Levian has posed:
The fire walls drop, and Levian jumps from the stage, heading over to Hellboy. He's naked and filthy, and still holds the spine in one hand. "My name is Levian, 999th Son of an Unknown Demon Lord." He drops down to one knee and lowers his head. "It has been an honor to serve under you. Are you perhaps a Hell Knight? A Cenobite Guard?"

Cecily Winters has posed:
    It's a very, very good shot. Hellboy's bullet does indeed rip the dead rat into a bunch of pieces. Rotting fur and old blood and organs. Of course, as the prisoners might finally be allowed to escape, a grumbling Brad among them, the biggest remnants of the rat lands on his head. He emits a sound like a shriek and then faints dead away. "I am not carrying him..." one of the students says tiredly. Another one shakes their head, "The two Steves would've been way cooler..."

    Johnny dusts his arms off and starts walking towards one of the park gates. "I need to go check in. Good work, heroes. Keep an eye out, yeah? See you next year!" he lifts a hand and waves over his head. "Tex! C'mon boy!" he whistles, and the dalmation comes running. Still clutching a femur in his mouth.

    Cecily goes to slump down next to Hellboy. "Worst. Birthday party. Ever. Or... maybe best?" she laughs softly, then closes her eyes. "I'm going home."

Cassandra Cain has posed:
And, of all things, Cassandra Cain stays. She sits in the cemetary, making sure that Brad, of all people, gets home alive. Because he's a person, and if he dies now he'll never have the chance to become a smart person. And maybe, just maybe, he'll grow.

Besides, she needs a ride home, and Steph has the car.

Hellboy has posed:
Gunesmoke fumed from the barrel. The kick had lifted the barrel just so.

There is where Levian returned to him, in the shadow of a crypt, battered, dirty, covered in blood and muck. He sat, knees crooked just so. "Yeah...?" he wondered of Levian, taking a moment to drink it in... So this one was fresh out of the hole.

"I'm Hellboy." He's Hellboy. There's another name that people call him but that's not his name.

"I do this, he lifts his arms up and out, an all-encompassing gesture to the mess at large.

"Sometimes it turns out better, sometimes its worse." he confides, resting his wrists over his knees.

Cecily comes in, collapses... An Hellboy laughs, a tired, dry, rough thing.

"Oh yeah?"

He reaches out, giving her shoulder a genial shove, "Hey, Happy Birthday."

Levian has posed:
"I'm trying to join SHIELD, so I'll do this too, I think." Levian looks down at his foot, and spots his jeans dragging down. "These jeans always seem to survive. But they're the only part of my clothes that came from Hell."

He pulls them back up, then starts to button. "I didn't know there were other demons like me... Ones who are human soul vegans."