4526/Trippy in Tribeca

Trippy in Tribeca
Date of Scene:	29 December 2020
Location:	The Moveable Feast Club, Tribeca NYC
Synopsis:	Amanda Sefton follows the trail of a magical monster to an underground club in Tribeca. Lois Lane is in the right place at the right time to catch all the action.
Cast of Characters:	Amanda Sefton, Lois Lane

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Amanda Sefton has posed:
Another late night hunting the streets of Tribeca. But Amanda Sefton step off those streets and into the dark haze of the underground club known as The Moveable Feast. It's only been in this location for a few weeks. And in another few weeks, it'll probably move on to some place else. That's just how it works.

But for the sorceress, that's not really a big deal. She can always find it when she needs it. There are people there who have been helpful to her in the past. Though, ironically, that's not precisely why she's here this night. This night, she's tracking a sliver of magic that's embedded itself in the body of a young man who, up until some hours ago, she believed was dead.

To the police, he's a known meth head and vagrant. A real hard case, who's way too young to be so far gone. To Amanda, he's the corpse of an OD vic she found on the street. She watched this tar like magic seep inside him and reanimate his body. She struggled with him briefly, trying to stop the possession, but to no avail. Indeed, she was thrown hard enough into a wall to stun her. And by the time she recovered, he was gone.

So, she's spent the past several hours following wisps of that magic, trying to hunt him down.

He looks nothing like the jean-jacketed, hollow-eyed junkie he did before. Now, he's got this whole gothic Marilyn Manson revanant vibe going on -- from the black khol eyes, pasty skin, and tight black leather. He might as well be The Crow, really.

As she enters the club, Amanda pulls back her hood and conjures just enough glamour to make herself stand out less -- though that doesn't change her appearance much. She's still more or less in Daytripper's leathers. They just look a little more suitable to the club scene is all.

She inhales a deep breath, grimacing faintly at the telling scents in the smoke, the scent of alcohol mixing with a variety of other things to create a heady atomosphere she'll take in a little more shallowly hereafter.

Seting a small smile on her lips, she begins to move through the crowd.

Lois Lane has posed:
Since gaining a fair bit of notoriety as a now almost famous reporter, Lois has had a bit harder a time figuring places to go and 'relax' without being recognized. the Moveable Feast has turned out to be one of the still good ones. No one's bothered her here and she knows there's other semi-famous faces among the crowd who simply don't want to be bothered. So, after the week she's had, she's decided she deserves a trip. Both literally and metaphorically.

The woman is dressed in clothes that by fashionable standards, well, aren't. A pair of bell bottom jeans and a dark red Hawaiian shirt tied off at her waist, she looks like she stepped out of a film a few decades old. She's hiding already slightly bloodshot eyes behind a pair of round shades. As she steps into the room, she's starting to dance her way across to a far corner. The place where she knows the experimental things are. She's always up for an experiment.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
The magic Amanda chases shimmers away as she moves deeper into the club. She stops, turning in a small circle, trying to find it again. But the Revenant has again disappeared. Or, at the very least, isn't pinging her magical senses at all. That disturbs her, since she can still feel magic in this place.

She lets out a soft breath and starts heading toward the bar. At the very least, she can pick up a drink that will help her blend in. And, perhaps she'll bump into one of her contacts who can help. Her blue eyes scan the other people, looking for that telltale jean jacket again... not realizing that she'll never find him that way. She lets out a faintly frustrated chuff of air.

Lois Lane has posed:
As Amanda is scanning the room, Lois takes note that the corner of the night is a little too busy for her tastes right now. She'll ride the edible that she had before coming in, relax the night away, and get what she wants a little later. So, pale blue eyes scan the room, looking for any interesting partners -- dance or otherwise. Also any stories, following that strange reporter's sixth sense she often seems to have.

Amanda, strange enough, pings both. Lois makes her way towards the woman, a saucy smile crossing her wine dark lips and her hips swaying in invitation of a dance the closer she gets. She's not shy about it, making direct eye contact with Amanda as much as she can and smiling wide. Flirtaiously wide.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Ordering a drink, Amanda turns away from the bar when it's delivered. The darkhaired woman dancing towards her catches her eye -- particularly since she obviously means to. The blonde's head cants slightly and a brow drifts towards her hairline. She smiles in response, a chuckle in the back of her throat. It's quite the display, really. And she appreciates it, to be sure. That said... she's technically working. Which means taking time out for a dance, even a passing one, feels a bit of a distraction.

Save, of course, that a turn on the floor will let her scope out the place a little better. So, she sets her drink down and moves toward the woman, gesturing towards the dance floor.

Lois Lane has posed:
The brunette gives Amanda a longer up and down, taking in that slightly stange leather outfit with appreciative arched brows. She tilts her glasses down her nose and gives a little wink to the woman, clearly approving, as Amanda moves over closer to her. However, Lois quickens her step just a bit so she can catch Amanda at the edge of the bar. Her wine-dark lipped grin is flirtatious and charismatic in it's own fashion. "Buy me a drink and I'll show you a dance like you've never had before." Lois' voice offers, only half teasing. She sounds like a woman who backs up her promises.

This close, Lois definitely smells like a cigarette and her pupils are just wide enough that she's probably on something, even if it's something mild. For all that, she's got an air of confidence and focus that most druggies don't have.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
She does look quite willing to back up her promises. Amanda arches a brow, giving a small, appreciative smile. "I'll consdier it," she says, her accent clearly British with a hint of German underneath. "However, I am here on business, sadly. So, it will greatly depend on the outcome of that." There's no sense leading the other woman on.

The scent of cigarettes has rarely been enticing to her, of course. And the dialated pupils are a telltale sign the woman's not sober. Amanda's eyes are clear, however. And if they seem bright, it's probably because there's a little bit of power flowing through her as she continues to search with her senses. And light up the night a little as a result.

Nevertheless, she beckons the bartender over. "A drink for the lady," she suggests. She slides down a little to retrieve her own. And as she turns away from the reporter, she conjures an image on a card -- an image of the boy she's hunting.

Lois Lane has posed:
Slightly intoxicated or not, Lois is still pretty damn sharp. Especially as Amanda says she's here on business. She knew she smelled some sort of story from the woman. Well, work and a drink at the same time? It doesn't get much better than that. Lois flashes a smile towards the familiar bartender. "Double scotch, two rocks... Lagavulen if you have it back there." The hippie dressed woman certainly has fancy tastes.

Then she's looking back to her new companion, a thoughtful frown crossing her dark mouth. She reaches slender fingertips forward and tries to scoop up the card that she sees over Amanda's shoulder. Granted, it's not exactly a photograph of him, but that's what Lois assumes in the chaos of the club. "This your work? Looking for him?" She asks, too damn observant even across the woman's slender shoulder.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
It certainly looks like a photograph of him. That's what the sorceress is going for, anyway. Amanda turns back to Lois and smiles, passing her the photo willingly. "It is," she admits. "A missing persons case I'm working on." It's no lie. The fellow is missing, after all.

"I believe he may be in danger," she says, watching the woman's sharp reactions. "It's important I find him before it's too late." It would be helpful, she knows, if she had a name for him. But she doesn't. So she doesn't offer one. Instead, she lays a few bills down for the bartender when he returns with Lois' drink. She doesn't seem fazed by the fact the woman ordered the fancy stuff. But, then, she does count some fairly wealthy people among her friends.

Lois Lane has posed:
If Lois noticed something strange about how Amanda conjured the photograph, she's not remarking on it. She's sharp, but not *that* sharp, especially not when she's come out for a night of fun. Still, the woman has bought her a drink and Lois is curious about the mystery now. Maybe more curious than dancing. She shifts to lean her hips against the stool behind her and takes the glass in one hand. She says nothing as she drinks deep of the good scotch and looks the photograph over.

"And he came...here before? This place isn't exactly well known, yanno." But she's got the look on her face that she might recognize the kid, or is trying to figure out if she should. "When'd he disappear? What's the family got to say about it? Why you think he's in danger?" Lois cannot shut off the reporter part of her brain and the way the questions come are too naturally practiced. She does this a lot, it seems.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
The sharp questions don't really catch Amanda off-guard. They're the same as she would ask, really. "He's been infected with hazardous material," she says matter of factly. "I saw it happen, but I was too late to stop it. I doubt his family know. He's not really the family type, I don't think."

She considers what more to tell the woman. "I'm not even sure that this is an entirely accurate image of him, any more," she says finally. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's changed his appearance somewhat."

Perhaps greatly.

She inhales another breath, shallower than she did when she first came in, to keep her head clear enough. But it's clear she's still scanning the room for him, her blue eyes fliting from shadow to shadow, searching. Then, she looks up sharply. "Well... *Sheisse*."

The wires of the lamps that light the dance floor have turned ropey, almost spidery. They have begun to sag like something out of an Escher painting. It might not look like much to Lois, but to Amanda it's a warning sign. Just like the way the lights have dimmed slightly. Not in a way that most have noticed, but Amanda can tell. It's a mystical darkness that is sucking the light, and possibly the life out of the room.

She starts scanning again for danger... and for potential allies. Perhaps one of her contacts is here, tonight.

Lois Lane has posed:
"Okay, dollface, let's go take a seat and you can tell me all about your buddy. I've got a good sniffer and know enough people here. You need some help, you got a rockin' body and bought me a classy drink. I'll help." Lois states flatly, her tone a little magnanmous, like she's giving some grand gift to the woman with her help. Granted, Lois has no clue just how sharp Amanda is and is accustomed to being the smartest person in the room a lot, so in a normal situation she'd not be inaccurate.

Then something's changing. She takes a longer sip of her drink before letting the glass fall away from now frowning lips. She looks from Amanda, up towards the ceiling, and back to her companion. "...Somethin' else goin' on here? If you're just about to take a bad trip, I got you but... gotta give me a heads up."

Amanda Sefton has posed:
"Mm," Amanda says dryly, not looking at Lois, since she's a little preoccupied with the melting shadows above them. "I think everyone's about to take a bad trip, actually. Whiiiiiich means he's definitely here."

She spares Lois a brief smile for the compliment. Under other circumstances, she'd probably be flattered, but there's clear concern on her expression. "How much do you know about the occult, my question-filled friend? Because this just may be one the wildest trips of your life." She flings up a hand, no more pretense of hiding who and what she is. From her finger tips, white light spins up over the dancefloor, creating a mini sun. Amost immediately, the flow of the shadows that were descending changes, rushing towards that light and a foetid wind swirls throughout the room.

Lois Lane has posed:
"..the occult? Fuck, is this some Mxyzptlk bullshit? Seriously?! It's not even been a WEEK, Mxy, you little bastard." Lois groans quietly, because that's the first place her mind goes when she's considering occult bullshit, especially as of late. But it also means that the slightly drugged out 70s gal with the blue shades definitely knows more than your average bear when it comes to the weirdness of the world. "And this is really killing my buzz. Those were the *good* gummies too. Fuck." Lois grumbles, trying to shake her head a bit more clear than when she started the night.

Whiskey will help, right? She knocks back the last gulp of her scotch, giving it a little sigh of grief, "Oh, Lavagulin, I hardly knew ye." She mutters as she sets the empty glass down on the bar and starts digging in her pocket. "...what type of bullshittery do you think we're getting here now?"

Amanda Sefton has posed:
"Who?" Amanda has never heard of Mr. Mxyzptlk. Her fingers move and she begins shaping more light, sending arcane symbols on disks made of sparkling golden light arcing through the air to intercept tendrils of darkness that reach down towards the dancers below. "I've never heard that name," she admits. "Is he a demon? Because these are certainly demonic energies and it's going to get a lot-- ah, gods!"

Her white light is snuffed out from above. The golden runes she's tossed turn red.

Tendrils of tarlike shadow whip out from the far side of the dance floor. There, the boy in the photograph with his Marilyn Manson makeover -- except for the addition of glowing red eyes and an unhinged jaw filled with razor sharp, spikey teeth -- has pulled some of the dancers towards him. They are choking on the tar, gasping for air, their eyes darkening and bodies being absorbed into the ooze even while the two women watch.

"It's a bloody Devourer," she tells Lois, sweeping her hands to create a shielding wall between the seeping tar and those who haven't yet been affected. "The third bleeding one this week."

And Wanda's not here to help. Nor is Luci and his hellhounds.

"Ah, sheisse!" she swears again. "We need to get everyone we can out of here. I don't know if I can hold him alone."

Lois Lane has posed:
"He's a... oh shit, we'll talk about it later. He's NOT one of these things. How do you HURT these things?!" Lois calls across the chaos in the room, now digging into her back pocket to pull out the little hand pistol she has. It really is tiny, just a few shots, but something she's learned to carry with her over years of getting into trouble. Adrenaline helps cut through the last fingers of the THC in her system, operating even sharper than before as she cosiders the scene.

"EVERYONE. OUT THE FRONT. NOW. NO ONE HIT THE BACK EXIT!" She calls, surprisingly commandingly, across the panic drive dance floor. She's then trying to physically guide several drunk women towards the front, starting a evacuation line even as she keeps pretty close to Amanda. "Do bullets hurt these things?! Salt? Prayer?"

Amanda Sefton has posed:
"Light!" Amanda calls to Lois in answer to her question. "Lots and lots of light!" But electricity may be a problem, given the way the lights in the building are dimming. Fortunately, her magic does provide additional glow.

Of course, it also makes her a target.

By this point, there are enough screaming people heading for the door that the sourceress is trying to find a clearer spot to stand and fight. There are still people being consumed by the ooze. Worse than that? As they're absorbed, they somehow become part of the ooze. Their eyes and faces darken. Their jaws unhinge, showing teeth as sharp and plentiful as the original source. There is obviously a reason the thing's called a Devourer. It continues to flow forward like a river of sludge and toxic waste.

Lois Lane has posed:
"Light? Well, fire has been a weapon of the ages. Got it!" Lois shoves the little pistol back into her pocket and, instead, leans down and grabs a chair. With a surprisingly tough swing, she shatters the thing against the bar into several slivers of wood. The longest two are then bundled into one of her hands and she's got her zippo out a heartbeat later, running it up and down the splintered wood to get to the untreated, flammable parts.

"LIGHTERS OUT PEOPLE! GET THIS PLACE LIT UP LIKE THE END OF A POSION CONCERT!" She starts calling to the terrified, packed party goers. Not many are listening, but a few do have their lighters and are happy for any way to fight back. With her home made torches, Lois suddenly starts walking forward, searching for anything else to burn that won't immediately endanger people. "Tell me where you need me, dollface. I'll keep lightin' things up all night!" The brunette may really have no fear. She certainly doesn't act like it.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Amanda doesn't have a lot of time to consider. Her first instinct is to get higher, out of the ooze. But if they're going to start setting things on fire? Smoke rises.

So she ducks low and starts pulling up the floors with her magic, trying to create a dam to contain the stuff.

"Put it together," she tells them. "There!" A table near the dance floor, halfway between where Amanda is and the ooze creature flows. "Light that thing up and I'll make it into a bloody sun." More white light spins from her fingertips, sparkling above that table. She does indeed start creating a small sun. And when some of the people clearheaded enough to want to fight start tossing flaming debris at it, those pieces get caught up in the energies almost like gravity is pulling it together.

Then, she looks at Lois. "The bar, Flowers! Throw the alcohol at the damn thing. We can light it up!"

Lois Lane has posed:
The light that Amanda is spinning is impressive, to say the least. Lois stares for just a moment, her brain readjusting to the fact that magic is VERY clearly real and the woman is pretty damn talented. But she doesn't have time to marvel at it all. She'll file a mental note and hope to get an interview later.

She then turns, pressing the torch into the table she's been instructed. She lets it rest there instead of just holding the flame to lick against the bottom. With hands free, she scrambles over to the bar and leaps it with one hip skidding across the bartop. As soon as she's there, she opens up a bottle of the cheapest vodka and shoves some fake flowers into it, making a sketchy molotov cocktail. But it should work. She sets the flowers on fire and the gives a good toss of the thing straight into the dimly burning table. It'll explode with a rather impressive go. "MORE?" She asks the knowledgable woman, but she's already starting to light up a bottle of Evan Williams.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
"The ooze," Amanda says, pouring her power into that table, picking it up and letting it collapse in on itself. "Throw the coctails at the ooze. I can light it up!" Because it occurs to her that's what she and Wanda did before. Amanda set fuse, Wanda poured on the power. This time... Well, she's hoping the alcohol will be the fuse and she can bring the power.

The creature continues to move forward. People who are still there are scuttling back now, screaming still to escape. Those who want to fight still throw flaming debris at both Amanda's small sun and the ooze itself now. But they're pulling back, too. The little magical sun is hot and so is the fire.

Amanda starts to compress that sun into a smaller and smaller ball of increasingly hot plasma, surrounding it with a shield of eldritch energy to protect the others.

The strain begins to show on her face. Her eyes glow brightly with green energy.

Lois Lane has posed:
"Got it, Boss!" Lois seems to get just how serious this is, because she's not even pulling out her cellphone for video record of it. Not yet, at least. She keeps making her makeshift molotov cocktails, but now has directed her tosses directly at the ooze and creature that are lighting up the dance floor. It's moving and, while slow, is a slightly more awkward thing to hit.

So, instead of wasting whole bottles on the thing, she starts soaking the flowers and tossing them one at a time, like little flaming arrors going into the ooze's mass. If that doesn't seem to be working, she'll go back to the big bottles, but she's trying to cover as much area in as short a time as possible.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
All Amanda needs is a good, thorough soaking of the thing. "Drench it," she calls. She thrusts her hands out slowly before her, almost like she's immitating a tai chi lunge... or pushing a mack truck uphill. Slowly, the sun begins to advance over the ooze.

The Devourer lashes out with its tendrils, seeking to grab more victims. Each one it consumes adds to its strength, adds to its ability to defend itself. It surges forward, pounding against the dam Amanda made, trying to spill over it. The lights above flicker and die, consumed by the spreading demonic darkness. Amanda doesn't spare the breath to curse.

Lois Lane has posed:
Drench it. Well, that's one way of doing it. Though something in Lois knows she might be killing innocent people too, they are probably already dead, with the way they are acting beneath the thing's control. She stops with the flowers and, instead, starts football throwing whole bottles of alcohol into the thing. As they shatter open, more booze hitting the air and it's 'skin', she then lights up another flower and starts sending them into the booze soaked ooze.

"There we go... Backdraft special comin' up!" She screams across the chaos as that advice seems to be the best yet. She keeps feeding booze to the now nearly out of control fire across the thing's body.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Yeah, unfortunately, Amanda knows they're already dead. She's a healer. She felt their life energy fade. At least she'll be able to reassure the reporter of that, later. Or try to.

"DUCK AND COVER! CLOSE YOUR EYES!" the sorceress warns them all. Because when she releases that sun, it's going to be the equivalent of a small supernova.

And release it, she does. Right over the middle of the ooze. She drops the shield around it and drops the compression magic. Consequently, it really does explode out like the stellar explosion she was expecting.

Even as it blows outward, she throws up another shield, straining to do so. But it's a dome of magenta energy that surrounds the last of the patrons still in the club -- including both Lois and herself. Thus, when the energy lashes out, it beats against the shield that protects them all and is deflected back into the monster seeking to kill them.

When the light fades, all that's left of the Devourer is ash and bone. And the only thing that still lights up the broken room is the glow of that magenta shield and the few lighters people still hold.

Lois Lane has posed:
The moment Amanda screams to duck and cover, Lois drops hard behind the bar. She's got her head down but does have ONE thing up. Her cellphone. She's flipped the recording button on and has one hand up, so she can get the climax of it all on video if she's lucky. That'll certainly do well on the internet tomorrow and get the Daily Planet more than enough hits. So, she keeps recording even as the wild energy lashes out. And then through the fading light.

Breathing hard, on the best adrenaline high she's had in weeks, Lois starts to unfold from behind the bar and look up across the broken room. It smells like burning and tar. She looks across who is left, a crease of cocnern to her brow, "Hey, blondie...You alright over there?" She asks of Amanda... who does, at least, seem in one piece.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
In the dim glow of her shield, Amanda listens for the last sounds of the Devourer's passing. She opens her eyes cautiously and slowly pulls herself to her feet. She gestures and her shield dissolves into a cloud of sparkling motes that drift out to provide a canopy of twinkle lights across the broken ceiling. It illuminates the room. There's not even any fire left to provide light, otherwise.

She hears Lois' voice. "I'm in one piece," she says to the woman. "It's safe enough, now." She's noticed that cell phone, of course. And it occurs to her that she may need to hex it before too much longer. "Let's just get these people out, and maybe I'll answer your questions." Because she has no doubt the other woman has them.

But priorities are priorities: Innocents first. Always.

Lois Lane has posed:
As there is nothing more major to film for the paper, Lois pulls away her cellphone and smoothly kills the camera program, slipping it into her back pocket in a gesture that most people would miss. Only Amanda's sharp, probably paranoid, nature means she's caught sight of the sleight of hand Lois often uses to get video of things people want to hide.

"Sounds good. Innocents first. Then talk." While Lois might be a bit of a skeezy reporter, it seems her heart and head are mostly in the right place as she practically reads Amanda's mind about that. Then she's going to helping anyone who was trampled in the panic, getting others who are merely shaken out the door, and genuinely being pretty useful for a woman who showed up to the place high and looking for more.