8721/It's Never Too Late for Answers

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It's Never Too Late for Answers
Date of Scene: 18 November 2021
Location: The Laughing Magician
Synopsis: Cael seeks answers and finds them (thanks to John and Jon) - and meets someone who is at least as 'charming' as she is. Lord help us all.
Cast of Characters: Cael Becker, John Constantine, Jonathan Sims




Cael Becker has posed:
    Sure, it's been months since the incident at the Botanical Gardens - but sometimes it takes that long, or longer, to be willing to face up to troubling moments. This is one of those situations. Cael had managed to get a hold of John Constantine's contact information - through mutual acquantainces, she had explained - and had been directed to an address in Hell's Kitchen. Now the young FBI and SHIELD agent was left standing at the correct addressed, with a puzzled look that quickly turns to frustration. "He's fucking with me. The dude's fucking with me," she mutters under her breath. Sara had warned her that the man was a...difficult sort. But really? Sending her out on a wild goose chase to an address in Hell's Kitchen that doesn't seem to exist? The woman - in her jeans, heavy boots, shirt and leather jacket, takes a kick at a discarded water bottle - and it goes skittering across the sidewalk, ricocheting into and down an alley.
    She hated it when people wasted her time.

John Constantine has posed:
"Nah, luv," comes the tumbledown mixture of Liverpudlian and London East End that is John Constantine's accent, "You're just not lookin' hard enough."

He steps out of the darkness. Was he always there? Maybe. It doesn't seem to matter. It's as though they simply eject him, having had enough of him taking up space within. He's dressed like a transient in clothes that look as though they've only ever walked very swiftly past an iron, rather than ever feeling the hot press. A faded, tan trench coat over button-down shirt and shiny-fronted slacks. A red and white tie hangs like a noose about his neck, loose. His dirty blonde hair has grown slightly too long to not be considered dishevelled, and his jaw is covered in a layer of stubble.

He ignites a cigarette, taking a long draw of the fragrant smoke - a weird-smelling brand not native to the United States - and blows the cloud up into the air. He flicks the ash onto the ground, wincing a little bit at the welcome sting of smoke in his bloodshot blue eyes.

"'ere, take a look."

And just like that, as though it had always been there just out of sight on Cael's periphery, is the battered wooden door of a pub with 'the Laughing Magician' printed in gilt letters across it. He nudges it open with his shoulder, giving it more shove than necessary when it jams a little on him. From inside pours warmth and the din of conversation and seated in various places one can see the sort of people who ... do not fit in other establishments. The resurrected dead. Spirits. Creatures of myth. All enjoying a pint.

"Come on, pet, you're lettin' the bloody draft in."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael turns to study the man - and then the door. The door that she is //utterly convinced// had no existed a few moments before. There's a look that's a strange mix of skepticism, frustration, and grudging inevitability as she approaches the door that had not been, and steps through. Her gaze rakes over those present, a frown still pursing at her lips before she takes in a deep breath - and lets it out slowly. She'd asked for this - she really had. But had she known what she was getting in for? "...okay. So this is here," she remarks.
    "Cael Becker," she introduces herself simply, offering over a hand. "Like I said on the phone. Constatine, yeah? I need a fucking drink, I assume I've come to the right place for that, at least." But will she get any answers?
    "...magic door?" she asks, nodding back the way they'd come. She can't believe she just seriously asked that question. Alis must be cracking up...

John Constantine has posed:
"My shout," John offers, gesturing to an empty booth at the back of the room before making his way to the bar itself. He doesn't ask preferences, simply returning a moment later with two pints of lager. He sets one down in front of himself, and the other in front of Cael. No coasters on the knotted, sticky wood of the table.

The words 'magic door' prompt a laugh from Constantine. A smoker's laugh that is part mirth and part rattling cough. He's still clearing his throat and dabbing the corner of one eye as he answers: "Ah-heh ... yeah. Somethin' like that."

He leans back in the bench seat, blowing another plume of fragrant smoke up towards the yellowing ceiling.

"Constantine. Right. Comma John. Previously of Newham, lately of Gotham City by way of the ever-searing inferno."

Cael Becker has posed:
    She'd rather have a whiskey, but Cael accepts the beer without protest, taking a drink before she'll reply - a brief, weak smile a response to the man's laughter. "Look - just to be frank, I know fuck-all about magic. I thought it was bullshit. But then I end up in a garden where pixie's are slitting throats, and guys are getting turned inside out, and you," she lifts her mug, while one finger extends to point at the man, as if there's any doubt exactly who she means, "turn into dust and get blown into my hair. I had to wash 'you' out in the shower. So really, I'm here to ask a very simple question, and I'm told you might be the only one who can answer it.
    "...What the fuck?!"

John Constantine has posed:
"Any cunt can do magic," John says with a dismissive wave of a hand, "The tophats and capes love to talk about how fuckin' mysterious it is and how they had to puzzle over tomes made of human skin to learn arcane secrets. But fact is, most people don't know about magic because they don't want to know."

Constantine shifts in the seat, pointing at a bulbous creature perched at the end of the bar. A living heap of filth, by the looks of it. One would not mistake it for living if it weren't wearing a t-shirt and jeans. Whatever it is, it certainly is as far removed from human as one is likely to get.

"Cunts just want to pretend other cunts like Harry don't exist. Hey presto, magic doesn't exist and you don't know anythin' about it."

A large intake of breath as he leans back, practically laying down on the bench in the booth they now occupy.

"As for the what-the-fuck of it all? Long story. Body's only a thing, innit? Believe me, this isn't my first."

That last bit prompts a knowing wink from him, before he rolls on.

"Don't worry about that, though. To answer you with yet more detail, I had a disagreement with a demon a long time ago. He took exception to me walkin' around and took me to Hell. I got out by virtue of him bein' thick as two bricks. So I'm back."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon looks up from where he's been sitting for a little while, a booth on the other side of the bar, not obvious if Cael was focused on going and sitting at the back booth. He's been scrolling through his phone and seeking out information on social media, trying to figure out how to broach a particular subject, and figure out which people he needs to talk to about which things, and... lo and behold, one of the people he wanted to talk to walks on through the door with John Constantine and starts drinking beer.

    He peers over at the table, raises a brow. Half stands from his seat, then hesitates. Whatever she's here about... John can /probably/ handle. Right?

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael studies Harry in silence for a moment, before looking away. Whatever it was - it was undeniably //there// - and was apparently a person. She's accepted weirder things, so she decides not to question. Maybe later she'd get into what, exactly, 'Harry' is. For now, though, she remains focused.
    "...simple as that," she remarks in a dry voice. "People died - and they didn't come back. I mean, I don't know if you had a chance to see it - what with being transported to hell and all - but there was a guy fused with the body of a tree," she points out. "So. You piss off a demon, he comes to the Botanical Garden and ruins or destroys a lot of lives, just so he could teleport you off to hell - but hey, you're back now, everything is //fine//?" she asks. "...is that demon still rattling around out there? Or did you rip out its beating heart, or whatever people do to get rid of demons?"

John Constantine has posed:
"Look, I'm sorry other people died," Constantine says, his tone lower and less flippant now, "But it happens. People die. I didn't. Best leave it at that, ey?"

His nose wrinkles at Cael's synopsis.

"No. No, if it were that simple, he'd have done it years ago. Whatever caused that trouble? That was somethin' else. My boy just took advantage of a situation."

He frowns, teeth bared a little now and voice low, muttering.

"Don't you try to go pinnin' those deaths on me."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Reading Cael's frustration on the air, Jon decides to just stand all the way out of his seat and come over, tucking his phone away as he approaches. "I think, perhaps, I can clear this up," he says in a low voice.

    Without much other preamble, he goes on, "There was, if I'm given to understand, some kind of power struggle among the various gods of death. For a time death was... not working properly. That event in the Botanical Garden, I /believe/, was some kind of manifestation of the struggle."

    He sighs. "What you saw was... either Constantine or a demon copy of him, I'm still not clear which, entering a gate to the Underworld. He went down through an ordeal, as one does, and wound up in Bayt al-Hikmah, the House of Wisdom. A repository of all the lost knowledge of the world."

    A pause, and then his gaze slides to Constantine. "I have reason to believe that the struggle is not over, or perhaps that whatever was broken was not entirely fixed. There's something down there that still needs to be found. I've actually been trying to make a list of who all those who ought to be contacted to try to... find our way back down there again." Ahh, yes, casually striding into the Underworld, that'll go well.

    Also, did he ever explain to Constantine how on earth he /knows/ this stuff?

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Look - you don't know me, so that's fair - but why the fuck would I pin it on you? Did //you// kill them?" Cael asks in a flat, dry tone. They both know the answer to that much, at least. "What I'm trying to figure out is what //was// responsible, and what if anything can be done to keep shit like that from happening again because... that shit was seriously fucked up." Seriously.
    She's taking another drink from her mug when Jon shows up to enlighten them, prompting her move her gaze towards him with some surprise. The first thing she remarks, though, is, "I'm guessing the Magic Door likes you more than me." Then she falls silent to mull over everything that was said.
    "I hate to just volunteer her - but you should check in with Witchblade, if you're planning a mission like that. Not sure what good I'd pose in such a situation. I'm just... a girl with a gun, essentially. But, hell, if I could help put a stop to shit like that..." She'd do her part.

John Constantine has posed:
John opens his mouth to say something further when he notices Jonathan approaching the table. He cannot help but roll his eyes, slumping back on the bench and glancing off to one side.

"Here we go," he murmurs under his breath, taking another drag of his Silk Cut, "The fuckin' Encyclopedia Britannica."

He doesn't seem to pay much attention at all as Jon exposits, instead finishing off his cigarette and snubbing it out in an ashtray. He's fetching another one as the exposition wraps up, and his eyes flick up towards Cael.

"Witchblade's the one in the spiky metal knickers, yeah?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon raises a brow at Constantine and says smoothly, "I'm Wikipedia these days. Crowd-sourced, don't you know."

    He looks to Cael. "She's on the list. Actually, I intended to ask your help with identifying some of those who were at the Botanical Gardens. If there's any chance there was surveillance footage we could get our hands on--I suspect this will be..." He pauses. Chews on his lip. "It's known, I think, to others of our mutual acquaintance." SHIELD, Cael. He's talking about SHIELD.

    He looks back and forth between the two. "Did that... well. I can get out of your way if you have more /general/ questions regarding magic. I did suggest you come learn more about it, after all." Oh, that's nice of him, sending people along.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "...yeah. That's her," Cael agrees in a dry tone. Spiky metal knickers? Sara's going to //love// that. And just beside her, Cael hears a quiet snickering that she //knows// come from her unseen 'sister.'
    She also knows that if she hears it - it's because Alis wants her too. Leaning in so she rests her head on her hand - she casually flicks the bird in the direction she hears the sound coming from, hiding the gesture from John's sight.
    "I don't know that anyone else of our mutual acquaintance was there that day - except maybe for... Do you know Doctor MacIntyre?" she asks, glancing towards Jon questioningly. "I have access to the witness statements from that day - so we have the names of those willing to give a name. There were others less willing to give names, though. Superhero types. Some of them might have been identified by some of the witnesses..." Cael muses in a thoughtful voice.
    She lets out a sigh before adding, "Look - I mostly came here today to learn what happened on //that day//. Not for Magic 101."

John Constantine has posed:
"If you want to know who ate what for breakfast when, talk to him," John jerks his head in Sims' direction, pushing his way up to his feet, "I'm more of a Junior's First Magic Primer type of fella."

He slaps palms on the table, drumming out a random and arrhythmic little cadence before he steps away.

"Let me know if you need anything else, Cael luv. Always nice to make a new mate."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon frowns briefly. "I really do think--" And then he shakes his head, taking off his psychiatrist hat. "Well, later, maybe," he murmurs. Cael's in no mood for magic primers, and John's clearly in no mood to talk about death gods, and who can blame him, really?

    "I'll catch you up in Westchester," he says to Cael. "I don't know... well, you're right, if things are broken in the world it behooves everyone to try to help. But it's a big lift, I know."

    He glances at John. Hesitates for a long moment. Then says, "Sorry for... interrupting. I just..." He huffs out a breath. "Figured it was better to explain than see the wrong person being blamed."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Wish I could say the same, John," Cael replies in a dry voice. "But - well - when Witchblade has to warn //me// what a 'charming' person someone is - I know I'm in to meet a real special fucking snowflake indeed." Despite her harsh words, though, there's amusement in her gaze, and ghosting across her expression. "Thanks for the answers," she adds more seriously.
    Then looking to Jon she adds, "Seriously, though. If there's anything I can do to put this bullshit to rest... Shit like that just shouldn't happen."
    She flashes Jon a brief smile as she adds, "I got the answers I wanted. That's enough for now - maybe I'll look for more later." It's as close to a promise as she'll come, right now.
    His next words, though, get a flash of annoyance from her. "He got a pass for not knowing me, but you oughtta learn that I don't put blame on the victims." The looks she gives him implies she'll be pretty put out if he makes the same mistake twice.
    "Anyways - I need some fresh air. This place has an... odor." And she thinks it's coming from Harry. After a nod towards them both, she turns and makes her way out the door. At least she can find it from this side.