8837/A New Case

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A New Case
Date of Scene: 27 November 2021
Location: The Laughing Magician
Synopsis: The Laughing Magician is quiet on a Friday, the normal patrons spooked by a serial killer in Hell's Kitchen. Sara, Jon, and Nellie talk to Chas about the Demon Constantine and the bizzare murders in the area--which is the new case that just happened to land on Sara's desk that very morning.
Cast of Characters: Chas Chandler, Sara Pezzini, Jonathan Sims, Nellie Graves
Tinyplot: Path of Glory


Chas Chandler has posed:
    It is Friday night at the Laughing Magician but the normal crowd is pretty slim. Word of the stange goings on in Hell's Kitchen must be spreading. Chas stands, stalwart as ever, behind the bar, wiping it with a clean cloth. His appron is pristine and white, despite the work he's put in making drinks and maning the stove.

    He looks over at a clock and sighs as he surveys his patrons. "Another slow night..." he mutters. "Damn killers on the loose every other week... making it hard to make a decent living."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
An entire week of ghost-girl training of Alis, and dealing with Cael's over protectiveness has lead Sara out of the house and away from them for a drink. Jon had given her the address to the bar, the Laughing Magician, she knew nothing about it but now seemed like the perfect time to check it out.

Finding it had been easy enough, sitting outside on the back of her motorcycle for a while she just stared at the location until finally she pulled her helmet off and headed inside. Wearing a black turtle neck, a air of jeans, her work boots and a heavy pea coat in black, she looks like any other New Yorker. It wasn't snowing... yet, but it was getting colder and thus the leather jacket was replaced.

Taking a look around the room, one brow lifts slightly before she heads to the bar. "Slow night?" she asks in general.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jonathan Sims came to the Laughing Magician tonight because it's the one place he spends time at where there might be people. Everyone else is out of town or recovering from Thanksgiving, which he and his husband don't really... celebrate. So he's been sitting there at the bar for a while, leafing through a stack of books on Egyptian history, making notes and occassionally muttering to himself while a glass of Scotch sits nearly untouched in front of him. As usual when he's researching, though, the ashtray is full of butts.

    "Killers on the loose?" That gets him to look up from whatever he's researching, to frown at Chas. "What do you--"

    Then the door opens and a vaguely familiar voice speaks. Jon turns to peer at the detective. "Pezzini," he greets her. There's the subtle hint that he forced himself not to say 'Agent' first.

Nellie Graves has posed:
A woman clad in a navy blue coat with bronze embroidered down the lapels looks curiously around. Her hands are shoved deep into the pockets, but she pauses just outside before stepping in, dark hair tied into a braid that falls down around her shoulder. She's sporting black skinny jeans and a pair of sensible boots, but there's little about her to make a serious impression. It's like something out of a dream, but trhere's a little tingle.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    "You've been busy, huh? To not hear about that? The crucifiions popping up around the area?" Chas asks, taking note of the two new entries. Sara gets a snort. 'Understatement of the year there..." he says and nods to the bar, "take your pick of seating, pretty open tonight."

    Nellie however gets an arched brow. "Graves?" he says, recognition in his face at the sight of the woman. "Annabelle Graves?" he says, smiling. "Damn... it's been... wow... three years, four? How've you been?" he says and gestures for her to come sit at the bar as well.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Settling onto one of the stools at the bar, Sara takes a moment to pull her coat off and just sort of drop it on the stool beside her. The talk switching to recent murders causes another slight brow lift before she tucks the job back away into the 'not now' space in her mind. It was difficult for a detective to turn it off, to not be turning the thoughts around in their head, at least it was for the good detectives. So even though she was telling herself not now, it was still there.

Turning slightly she offers Jon a nod. "You can call me Sara," she offers with a slight smile. "Pezzini is for work, or the other work... can I buy you a drink Jon?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon snorts at Chas. "'Busy.' Yeah, you could say that." Fights with evil villains, trips to worlds of magic, kidnappings. 'Busy' hardly begins to cover it. He glances to Sara and says, "Force of habit. Ahh... if you like? I've hardly touched this one." He goes ahead and downs the Scotch that's been sitting in front of him for an hour or more, hardly wincing at the burn, then gestures with the glance in a 'go ahead' kind of manner.

    He turns, then, to look at whomever it is Chas is looking toward. He frowns slightly, doesn't really recognize the woman, but nods to her politely. "Friend of yours and John's?" he asks Chas.

Nellie Graves has posed:
    Turning, and though her nose wrinkles a bit she turns her eyes to the voice, she gives a smile to Chas first, then the others, looking over them curiously but taking a seat. Eventually. Nellie starts to pull at the fingers of her left glove, revealing a myriad of rings. The voice is quiet but definitely British. She discreetly tucks her glove into her coat pocket. "You could say that, in a sense."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas tucks the cloth in the tie of his apron and looks at the gathering. "Well, what are each of you having?" he asks, "Or well, what are the two of you having while I refill Jon's drink." He moves to grab Jon the same scotch. Not the best stuff but not low bar either. He pours another neat in the glass and looks at the other two women for a moment before smiling at Nellie.

    "I hadn't heard you were back in the states" he says with a grin. "What brought you around?" he asks. He was aware of the woman's habits, the wandering for mysteries and secrets, the occultist life as it were. "And... are you sticking around for long?" he adds. "Or just passing through?"

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara considers a moment, then she had to consider it even longer. The last time she went to a bar, instead of drinking at home, a disir appeared and tried to kill everyone in the karaoke bar. That thought made her look around one more time, just to be certain there wasn't something lurking some where.

Snapping her eyes back to Chas she offers a smile. "Sorry, a moment of reflection to ensure nothing was about to jump about and attack me. Last time I went to order a drink, it never passed my lips before a disir attacked." No, Chas didn't need to know all that, but she needed to say it. "How about a rum and coke, heavy on the coke as I have to drive."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon nods to Nellie and says, "Well, I'm... Dr. Jonathan Sims." It's an effort of will not to introduce himself as 'the Archivist.' "Also a friend of theirs, though it had been a while longer since I'd seen them. Over a decade, I think?" He glances to Chas. His own voice sounds stereotypically English, either posh or Southern, softened by a decade of living in America only slightly. Sara's the odd one out here, really.

    And as for Sara, Jon takes a sip of his drink--with his right hand, the arm no longer in a sling--then smirks at her. "What, you think we can't handle a little action? I'll have you know I can actually hit a target seven times out of ten now." He holds up his left hand and conjures a fan of four small dart-sized citrines. "These will /certainly/ take down a disir." His tone is sarcastic, a joke at his own expense evidently.

Nellie Graves has posed:
    With another glance to the others, she ducks hear head and chuckles. Nellie's response is simple and neat. "I've felt a funny sort of feeling, had a funny dream, couple weeks ago." She waves away the offer of a drink in the meantime and sort of awkwardly tilts her head. "Sticking around for the time being." She glances over at Jon, after a fashion. "Just Nellie, me. Nice to meet someone new."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas smiles and nods at the order and decline. "On it..." he says, giving the NYPD officer a quick finger gun before turning to make a quick Rum & Coke for the woman. Heavy on the Cola and light on the rum, just enough to add a dash of flavor, not enough to hit the woman even if she was a lightweight (which, given that she fought the disir and managed to survive.)

    Sliding Sara the drink. "We don't get much action here at the bar unless someone brings it in with them... something about having John Constantine as a regular tends to keep most things wary of the place. Real or otherwise..." he smiles and blinks at Jon. "Oh, neat trick. Getting more of a handle on the Archivist powers?" he asks. He'd seen the man throw some serious Power capital P around in Egypt but the rest was a little hazy, being that he had bled out on the sand there at the end.

    To Nellie he smiles again. "Well, it's nice to have you back. Have you spoken with... er... well if you spoke with John recently... when did you do so?" he asks hesitantly. He wasn't being cagey on purpose, if Sara was coming in and knew Jon, then weird was likely in her repetoir telling her bluntly that his best mate had been a doppleganger for the past few months was probably not the strangest thing she'd encountered and it was well within in the norm for the wandering Herbalist.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
There was that name again, the one that made her eyes narrow, the hair on the back of her neck stand up and caused Witchblade to immediately start screaming in her head... Constantine. The last time she saw him he was in Hell, nearly killing the group that had come to rescue him and Strange because he lost his shit over his favorite getting sliced. Cael had said he wasn't the asshole he had been in Hell, but Sara wasn't buying it until she saw him again herself.

"I'm sure everyone here can handle themselves," she comments, leaving all mention of her inner monologue to herself. If Wade was here he'd be offering up more than enough of his own inner monologue outloud... that was another matter entirely.

"I mean we are talking about a bar with a magically hidden door here, so clearly anyone who comes in is more than capable. The disir was after someone in the club, still don't know who, but I got to test out a theory that worked in the favor of the living."

Accepting the drink from Chas, she extends her other hand across the bar to him as she says, "Sara Pezzini, NYPD Detective." and leaving off the rest proved harder, as she actually almost blurted out the rest of that introduction.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon narrows his eyes at Sara for a moment, then shrugs and nods to Chas. "In a manner of speaking. I've been working on my combat skills, since I keep winding up /in combat/, and I really do need to be more, ahh... proficient." He makes a face, then says, "Anyway, I've got the staff on me if it actually came to it. Actually a much easier manner of channeling magical power."

    He looks to Nellie again, then. "A funny feeling and a funny dream?" He quirks a brow. "Are you a... practitioner? You know. Magic." He waggles the citrines in his hand, then puts all but one on the bar and starts fiddling with that one for all the world like it's a fidget toy.

    "...Wait, magically hidden door?" A beat. "...Is the door to this place usually not visible to people?" He blinks rapidly at Sara. He had no idea. None whatsoever.

Nellie Graves has posed:
    Her normally pale expression turns very nearly peaked, but she lifts a hand to fiddle at her ear, brushing against the silver skull of a tiny raven. Nellie starts to rise and reaches into her pocket to put her missing glove back on yet she's made no motion to leave just yet. She just gives a look to Chas and her eyes are almost haunted., but somehow she manages a smile, dark-lipped and wry. There's a slight nod. Likely, he nailed it... and whilst she offers and goodnight nod to the others, Nellie steals away into the night.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas watches the woman with a frown. "Yeah... that's what I was afraid of" he murmurs softly and bites his lip. "I'll have to get with that one later." He looks at Sara and takes the woman's hand. "Chas Chandler. Prioprieter and lead bartender at this fine establishment."

    To Jon he smiles. "It's not so much hidden as... you can't find it unless you need it. One of those..." he waves his hand slowly before the man, "'Not the droids your looking for' sorts of things. You won't see the doors if you aren't specifically looking for it or know where it is before hand. Invite only sort of thing, which is what made that thing wandering around with John's face so dangerous since it would just tell every bloody soul it found where to go."

    He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. "I'm going to need to get Top Hat and others in to tear down what it might've put in place and put up less... suspect wards." He then moves to the sink and washes his hands thoroughly. Chas isn't a barbarian, as much as looks might argue otherwise.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Taking a drink of her heavy on the coke, light on the rum beverage, Sara listens to what seems to her as rambling, but that doesn't mean she doesn't pay full attention. She's learned that no matter the words spoken, or what they might have been intended to mean, there was always information to be gleaned from it. In this case...

"Whoa, what?" She starts, setting the glass down. "Thing wearing whose face?" She looks between Chas and Jon, then back to Chas. "I might need to know a little more about that, given the bastard tried to kill me."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Souls shattered like glass, but he didn't care." Jon's voice has changed, the cadence slowed, the timbre deepening. His gaze has grown distant, and his eyes gain a glow the same bright orange as the citrine he holds. "Power drawn from all around, from the people who'd come to save him. Blasts of ice sent out, then waves of force, and who cared if it shattered these souls, drove them mad, tormented them for eternity? Who cares? He is /angry/, and that is all that matters. And if it makes these people hate and mistrust the true Constantine? So be it."

    Jon blinks and sighs. Rolls his shoulders. "That was not John Constantine," he says, with a surety that might be surprising. He balances the citrine in his hand on one point on the bar, places his left index finger on the other end, wobbles it about a bit. "That was a meat-puppet controlled by a demon, who greatest desire is to harm John in any way it can. The worst parts of his personality, with none of the redeeming qualities. Just cruelty, narcissism, mania, arrogance. It cares for the people he cared for, in its way, but..."

    He swallows, and looks away. The pain radiates off of him like an almost palpable aura, and he focused on the citrine like that'll help him pull it back in.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas gives Jon's hands (specifically the pointed citrine) an alarmed look. "Whoa, Jon... umm... easy on the bar. Just polished it yesterday" he says, then turns his attention to Sara. "Yeah... dopplegangar that John put in place to take care of things while he worked out of a deal with a hell lord and then it sort of got out of his control and into said hell lord's control. Fun times, right?" he says, sarcasm dripping off his words.

    "Anyway, the real John is back in the saddle so if you see something that sort of looks like him but dead and rotting skulking in the shadows... can you... uhh..." he pauses, "Don't kill it but apprehend and bring it here?" he gestures to the room behind him. "We've got some questions to ask it before John dismembers it."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
The drink is left sitting on the bar as Sara listens to the Archivist. She had never heard the voice before, but it was obviously not his voice so it had to be the other. Although she was calm, listening, interested in the words and the knowledge, Witchblade was more interested in hearing more about this not-John and what he could do to it. She shifts on the stool, reaching to turn the silver bracelet around on her wrist once, as if the act made it more difficult for him to scream in her head.

"Doppelganger," she manages to voice, the struggle almost obvious before she managed to once again shove Witchblade down, down, down. "Everything you said, that's exactly what happened. It was only because of him," tap on the bracelet. "that there were no wounds, but you know that."

Regroup in her head, now that Witchblade was shoved down. "I can't promise that if I see this dead and rotting thing, that it will remain in one piece... but I can try." She finally picks the drink up for a sip. "I will also offer Constantine a second chance, given this new information."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "/Rotting/? It's /rotting/ now?" Jon makes a face. "Christ, and I almost /kissed/ the thing. Eugh." He takes a /long/ gulp of the Scotch. "Good to know, though." He'll have to amend his report to SHIELD to note it won't be hard to tell them apart.

    Then he fixes Sara's bracelet with a firm glare. "There are people who deserve a chance to face that thing. It /hurt/ people. Drew us in, spun us 'round, spat us out. It drove me nearly to..." He stops, shakes his head. "That doesn't matter. If nothing else /John/ deserves the chance to face it for what it's done to his image, his loved ones. There needs to be /justice/ for what it's done. Karmic balance, if you like. If... /you/ want to serve those interests, you'll bring the thing back here if you should find it." He was talking to Witchblade, not Sara, though that might not be immediately obvious."

    He takes in a breath, lets it out. Snatches up the crystal in his hand. "Didn't mean to damage the bar," he murmurs. He goes to light up another cigarette, hunching his shoulders.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas blinks at Jon's words about the almost relationship with the doppleganger. "Ew... yeah... not a good idea..." he smiles a bit weakly. "Dodged a bullet there..." He moves over and polishes the bar where the citrine had left the smallest of scratches on the wax coating. "Nothing I can't buff out, mate." He smiles at the Archivist.

    There is tension at his eyes. Chas can read people pretty well and despite Chas being no empathy, the Archivist wasn't exactly the best at masking his emotions without effort. "Hey... it'll be alright, Jon. We'll all get our words in... it'll be fine." He plances a hand on the bracelet covered wrist and pats it comfortingly.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Once again the bracelet gets turned, Sara's green eyes watching the way the light glinted off the silver and then how the red stone ate that light like a fat kid eats candy. Her relationship with him was a strong one, and ninety percent of the time she could keep him in check, it was that other ten percent of the time that there were issues.

"That's why I said I couldn't promise," she admits, looking up to Jon. "I get that people need closure and justice and karma and all that crap, but some things... phew, some things just make it real difficult to control." Picking up her glass, she takes a drink as her eyes shift to Chas for a moment, then back to Jon.

"I can promise you this much... I'll do my damndest to contain, because if anyone can... it's me, alright?" His pain was obvious, and his connection to the whole thing was easy to pick out from what was said. "It is after all, what we do best, right?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon flinches away from Chas' touch, though it might be that he chose to pat the bracelet; regardless, he shakes his head. "I suppose we'll see how things go," he says to Sara. Acknowledgement that she can only do so much.

    His feelings on the matter are complicated, hard to parse, wrapped up in pain and anger and embarassment and resentment. There are words that should be said, maybe, but every time they sit down to discuss the matter (save that one time Meggan got insistent), just what the demon did to Jon gets elided, looked over, ignored, though that's partly just Jon trying to hide his feelings from people he doesn't entirely trust. Still, it's enough to feed the resentment he's trying very hard to let go of.

    "Anyway," he says, in an effort to do just that, "what's this about murders, Chas? I'm barely in Hell's Kitchen anymore, don't know if you've noticed. I figure you and John are keeping an eye on the place, yes?" He bites back the bitter tone again, grabs his drink to take a sip.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas isn't blind, but he's also not going to push on Jon to open up, especially during business hours. After is one thing, but he won't expect the man to spill his soul with watchers in the wings. He shrugs. "Here and there, yeah. But... this is different. Or at least, I think it is. I don't know..." He frowns. "John's still getting his shit in order back at the House, here it's just me and some of the others around town. But... we've..."

    He glances at Sara. NYPD, she probably knows about it so it's fair game. "We've been getting a bunch of bodies showing up in alleyways. They're... they crucified. Like... cross set up, nails in the wrists and ankles. And... burned. Badly. Like... really bad." He frowns. "Most of the bodies have been mutilated beyond that too."

    "Missing hands, missing tongues, missing..." he pales a bit, "other things..." He swallows. "I've recognized... or at least think I've recognized a few of them. Gangers. Thieves. Runners. Usual riff raff you get around a place like this... but..." he skakes his head. "I don't know if anyone criminal or otherwise deserves what's happening to these guys. And I don't know if it's one guy or a group of really angry vigilantes. Hell, maybe it's even Demon John trying to lay claim to this place. Though... none of what I've seen either John do comes close to this level of... destruction. Whatever it is, it--or they--are damn strong." The fear is plain on the man's face, he's just as afraid as his missing patrons of what's been going out beyond the walls of the Laughing Magician.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
And there it was... work. Sara could never really manage to evade it for long, some how it managed to jump right back in front of her. What she wasn't going to say is how that case landed on her desk just this morning after the previous detective who had it decided to take a leave of absence due to what he saw.

"It's moments like this that put me in a bind," she comments with a soft sigh. "See, I know that this case is based in something mystical, not average humans doing your normal killing, but the case landed on my desk this morning and I'm just getting through what's already been covered. That said, I'm technically not supposed to talk about it... but let's face it... this shit isn't normal, and so if falls back into the category of 'hell yes I'm going to seek help outside the force'."

She looks between the two men for a moment, then sighs again, "Once I have access to /all/ the existing reports made so far, that is."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's head comes up and he blinks at Chas rapidly. "Dear /gods/," he whispers. His eyes track over toward Sara. "And you say it's mystical?" He reaches up to rub at the back of his head.

    "Yes," he murmurs. "I hear you."

    Then he turns to Sara and says, "If you need my help, you know where to find me. The Archivist can draw statements out of dead bodies, out of items... out of the very stones, if need be. If there's a strong enough emotional impression, I can pull up a statement."

    He glances to Chas, expression guilty. "Sorry I've been... sorry. We'll fix this."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas shrugs. "Hey. It's not your turf and you've got other shit on your plate. I don't blame you I just... I know it's out of my hands" he says, holding out his hands. There's the marks of a fighter there but he is just a man otherwise. No mystical power *in* him other than what was put *on* him a year ago by his drunken friend and lingers on.

    He looks at Sara and then Jon. "But... if you guys can fix it. Please do. Cause..." he looks at the bar at large which is already mostly empty even though there is still over an hour before last call. "It's getting bad."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara takes one more drink from her glass, though really she didn't consume much, then digs into her pants pocket to remove a twenty and lay it on the bar.

"Russo is a damn good detective," she offers out of no where, then gets to the rest of her point. "The man has been a detective for twenty years. He's an ass, hard as nails, damn good at his job, but whatever this was spooked the hell out of him."

Standing up, she gathers her coat and slips it on. "I can't say with a hundred percent certainty it's mystical, but my gut says it is. I have access to one last crime scene tomorrow, then..." she pauses for a moment, glancing sideways at Chas, then back to Jon. "... That's when I'll know what he knows. I can't give access to outsiders, not... legally, but we both know this isn't going to fall into the NYPD wheelhouse, so when I have access... we'll work something out so we can put an end to this."

Now she looks directly at Chas. "Yes, that means there's more to me then what you see, and a lot that's been hinted at... when I know you better, I'll tell you more. For now however," a nod is offered to each. "I have to get going. Got several files to read through before hitting that scene tomorrow. Was a pleasure meeting you Chas, and seeing you Jon. Stop trying to lock it all inside, it's not healthy."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon frowns after Sara. "Bloody rich that everyone else seems to know what's 'healthy' for me when I'm the doctor," he mutters. But then, louder, "I'm a psychiatrist with a history of working with the criminally insane, if that'll help the paperwork." He'd say 'call Arkham for the references' but... he doesn't really feel like directing anyone to Arkham, just now.

    He eyes the stack of books and then starts gathering them up, along with the notebook he'd been writing in earlier. "I said I'd help. I came back. I haven't been around enough to pay attention. I'll dig into some academic databases, see if I can access anything... prior cases like this, similar M.O.s or psychoses. People are dying, and people are scared. Half the drug runners and gang members I've ever known have just been down on their luck kids manipulated by a stronger element." There's a thread of anger there. "Not anyone that deserves... well." He makes a 'tsk'ing sound and turns to go. "I'll catch you up."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas frowns as the two leave. "I'll give you any help I can but..." he swallows. "I'm a bit scared myself. This is above my paygrade and that's saying something." He wipes the bar, takes the glasses and moves to start washing them. "Take care out there. Both of you. Be safe."