9172/Disaster Response

Disaster Response
Date of Scene:	19 December 2021
Location:	The Laughing Magician
Synopsis:	In the immediate aftermath of Michael's destructions of the Laughing Magician, Cael calls Martin to help deal with a panicking Jon. Once he's calmed down, they discuss their options--and then Cael goes home to sulk.
Cast of Characters:	Jonathan Sims, Cael Becker, Martin Blackwood
Tinyplot:	Path of Glory

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Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's phone unlocks with a press of his fingerprint and Cael finds that he has an entirely predictable blue-and-gold theme with a background picture of himself, Martin, and a young girl all smiling at the camera while at the top of the Wonder Wheel. Martin appears to be in the contacts list as 'MarTea.' How stupidly sappy can you get?

    No wonder the guy's face is tear-streaked.

    He busies himself picking up the things he dropped when he offered himself to the angel. Bracer on his left wrist, ICER in the shoulder holster, staff on his belt. Then he stands staring around at the mess, like he's trying to assess the damage, even as the others all leave. There are things he should be doing, he knows that. Reports to make, people to call. But he just feels... dazed.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael spends a moment studying the features of the girl, but makes no comment on it. She opens Jon's recent call history - and sees the frequent calls to 'MarTea.' She lets out a quiet snort before clicking the call button.
    "No, it's Becker." Momentary pause. "He's-" Her eyes shift to Jon. "He's alright. Look, do you know how to get to the Laughing Magician? Good. Yeah, sooner would be better. Uh-huh. Alright, see you."
    She clicks the phone back off, and offers it back to Jon, climbing to her feet as well and turning to retrieve her gun - but it's already gone, retrieved by her incorporeal sister. Instead, she takes out her own phone to send a quick text. 'It didn't go well.'
    That accomplished, she surveys the damage, then surveys the wall of liquor bottles longingly. "Someone's going to have to pack all those up," she remarks. Or looters will get in and take them all.
    ...does that really matter, though? It's the end of the fucking world.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    It takes about fifteen minutes for Martin to get to the Laughing Magician. He knew what was happening today and while he couldn't participate himself, he had promised he'd been there for the aftermath of it all. So he had been staying the Chealsey flat.

    Between driving distance and dropping approximately the GDP of a small nation down for parking he makes his way to the Laughing Magician. He looks at the crater in front of the building and the now ruined roof of the building itself before opening the door and stepping into the ruins of the old bar he used to frequent back in his college days.

    Once inside, he tugs his heavy wool coat around himself for warmth and surveys the interior. "What... happened?" he asks, spotting his husband and his coworker nearby. "Why is there no roof?" He sounds completely flabbergasted as he looks around the destruction within.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Yeah," Jon says softly. "Yeah, we should..." He's distracted, but he turns in a slow circle. "The till, too, umm... and the first aid kit, and... and there's some important books and reagents in the back room..."

    But he doesn't move to... /do/ any of that. Just stands there, blinking at the till.

    "Oh, Martin," he says brightly without looking around as his husband comes in. "Good. We'll need to box things up. And then we need to think of another place to gather, I think. Somewhere not in New York. Gotham, maybe? A lot of the Justice League Dark is from Gotham."

    Martin, at least, knows that voice. That's Jon's 'functioning through a panic attack' voice.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael has already started gathering up the bottles - the ones that are closest to full anyways - and packing them into some boxes. If she 'accidentally' managed to knock Meggan's cakes onto the floor while doing that, certainly no one can blame her, right? She looks up from shoving another box into place on the edge of the bar to meet Martin's gaze - her own features a carefully neutral mask at the moment. "Jon offered himself up to the Angel Michael in order to protect the rest of his friends. The Angel is giving him time to put his affairs in order," she says rather flatly. "So we have until then to figure out how we kill one of the most powerful beings in existance."
    Way to pull your punches, Cael. Great job.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin is trying to figure out how to get Jon through his panic attack when Cael drops the bomb. He turns and blinks at her sputterring. "Excuse me... what?" he asks. He looks at Jon. "Is-is... is she serious? You... why?" he asks, his voice climbing a few octaves in pitch.

    "You... Jon... you can't... why would you... Archangel Michael? *The* Archangel Michael?" He looks around. "That's what was inside Chas? How... why... what did he do? How did he...?" He looks at Jon again, his expression stricken. "And... why would you give yourself over to him?!" he asks, sounding alarmed, hurt, and angry all at the same time.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I hurt him," Jon says, staring down at the till. "Burned all the feathers off one wing. He wanted retribution against those who'd chained him... he was going to take all of us. So... so it seemed..."

    He frowns. Swallows. "What else was I supposed to do? Nothing could hurt him. This way... this way it's just me. Everyone else is safe." From that, at least.

    He opens the till and starts pulling the money out. He can give it to John, or Phoebe maybe.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "So we use the time we have to find a way to kill it," Cael asserts firmly. "That water - it hurt him. Do you still have it? Can we get more? How can we weaponize it? Can we inject it into ICER bullet casings?" she asks in a firm and determined tone, fixing her gaze on Jon first, and then on Martin. "It's not just Jon we have to worry about. Michael's determined to destroy all of reality. He wants us to stand beside him and help him achieve this task - and then he says he'll somehow find a place for us in this new reality. Only, you know, probably robbed of our freewill. Because freewill is bad. So an awful lot is riding on taking this asshole down."
    She rests her hands on the bartop and leans her weight into it, looking between Jon and Martin as she asks, "So what else can hurt an angel?"

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin looks betwen Jon and Cael and makes a sharp gesture. "Will you two just *stop* for a moment?" he says firmly. "Putting together this bar is *not* what is needed right now. We need to sit and work through this some..." he says with another sharp gesture.

    "You're talking about fighting the Commander of Heaven's armies. One of the Seven. Or Four. Or... 20 something... depending on what you believe..." he says. "It's not just some monster you can go after with enchanted bullets or magic or any of that..." He moves to intercept Jon and grabs the man's arms, attempting to hold him in place. "Look at me. Look. At. Me." he says his expression hard and his voice firm.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon stares at Cael like she's gone crazy. "We can't... we can't /kill/ Michael. Don't... don't you /get/ it? We briefly ended the universe because we dragged him through Nullspace. Kill him and you kill /everything/. Stop him? Defeat him? That we can do? Kill him?"

    He shakes his head. "Why is everyone so damn intent on killing? On /hurting/? Don't... don't you... /get/ it? Nothing hurt him. Nothing /stopped/ him. Except... except..."

    He puts a hand to his chest. Stares down at Martin, finally, eyes focusing on the shorter man. "I know what we're facing, love. I do. Why are you mad? Because I offered myself to him? He would have hurt people. I couldn't let him hurt them."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael's voice pitches up a few notches. "What do you MEAN, 'we briefly ended the universe'?! How is that sentence a thing?!"
    She turns her attention down to the surface of the bar top - tears abruptly blurring her vision as she breaths heavily, trying to regain her fragile composure. She needs a drink. She needs a drink. She needs a fucking drink.
    "It is a monster, Blackwood. The things it did to me - did to its other victims. That it'll do to Jon..." And she can't kill it without ending reality? "Then what do we do? We... bind it somehow? Contain it? Imprison it?" There has to be something, right? Or what's the point of trying? What's the point of existing?

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    "I'm angry because you're here picking up the bloody bar instead of taking a few moments to breathe, for the love of..." Martin replied. "You need to get your head on straight instead of fighting off a panic attack by picking up this place..." He says. "You know the drill... take a slow breath and go through the exercise... like every time before."

    He directs his attention to Cael. "If you can't destroy it without destroying the universe then you find a different way." He says as he watches Jon go through the mental exercises to work his way out of the panic attack. "Defeat and destroy are not always the same thing. In fact... they often aren't."

    "Maybe you can negotiate with him or find a way to trick him. Focus his attention somewhere else and keep him busy with some other universe shaking project. I don't know..." he sighs. "Just... there is always a way out and more often than not, it has little to do with violence."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon does the drill, counting off five things he can see, four he can touch, three he can hear, two he can smell, one he can taste. He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing slowly.

    "I know," he says in a soft tone. "I know. That's... that's..."

    He opens his eyes and looks at Cael. "He was going to take the five of us. Me and Zatanna, Meggan and Lydia. Rien. He didn't. It was the /only/ thing that made him back down. Not a bullet, or a kick, or a sword. Compassion. Love. Self-sacrifice. Meggan was right. I think, in the end, that's going to be our way out of this. Love."

    Is he crazy? Maybe he's crazy. But he seems... centered, if not calm.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I've tried talking sense to him. I've tried. He won't listen. His mind is made up. He..." Her mouth feels dry, and she fights the urge to sink to the floor, and wrap her arms around her legs. Or to pick up one of the bottles and start drinking. That would probably kill her given the medications already in her system - but somehow, that possibility isn't much of a deterent right now.
    "I won't let him take you," she insists quietly. "I won't let him do to you the things he did to me. I don't let you die that way, Jon. I won't."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin looks at Jon for a moment before asking. "What do you mean?" he asks. "I don't think walking up and giving him a hug is going to stop him from hurting you, Jon." He seems genuinely confused.

    "Also... is there a place that doesn't have a gaping hole in the roof" he asks, tugging his coat tighter about him. "Getting a bit chilly these days..." He looks up. "Like... it looks like it's localized here. Is the backroom still usable?" he asks. "Just while we talk."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon huffs out a breath. "I made a /deal/. I offered myself to him, willingly, to protect my friends. Out of love. And that got him to back down. To forgive the transgressions of the others, and give me time." He looks between Cael and Martin both. "Should I have let him take my friends? Or fought him, futilely? I bought us time, and I /will/ honor my deal. If I broke that, now, it would only give him more proof that the universe is not worth keeping around."

    He shakes his head. "I am not a fighter. I am a healer. I am a father. I am a /protector/. I will not let this situation, or these cosmic beings, or any of /you/, change that. I am /tired/ of being told how I should feel, how I should act, what choices I should make. I know who I am, and I don't care what you think--no, Martin, not even you. I made a /choice/. My life, for my friends'. That choice was the only thing that /worked/ against Michael, and all any of you can see is that he's not bleeding."

    He shakes his head and turns to go into the back room to continue the conversation.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Jon's words tear at Cael painfully - his determination to sacrifice himself causing her to squeeze her eyes tightly shut, to try to block from her mind's eye the image of her friend's maimed and burned corpse suspended from a cross. It doesn't work, of course.
    He'll be crucified - and he's determined to let it happen. Maybe Michael is somehow in his head - even now. How do they fight something like that? How?
    She remains trapped wordlessly where she is, propping herself up against the surface of the bar as she listens to Jon stride away. When she does finally force herself to move, it's to quietly pour herself a glass of whiskey.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin's expression is thoughtful as he watches Jon stride away toward the backroom. There is something speculative in his expression and he moves closer to Cael for a moment, his gaze shifting to her after she takes a pours the drink.

    "This might actually be a good thing" he says softly to the woman. "He's acting more himself than I've seen him since he got this Archivist power..." he says. "He's got some of that backbone, some of the stiff upper lip that we are known for. If he's acting this way... it means he's clear headed and actually thinking critically." He looks at Cael and gestures for her to follow. "Come on. Rest on me if you need to. "He's not despairing, and that means we shouldn't either."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon has his head bent over his phone when the other two come back, and Cael feels her own buzz with a message shortly after he looks up. "We're going to have to box all this up," he comments. "What's in here is too dangerous to allow to fall into just anyone's hands. The book Chas used to summon Michael is in here somewhere."

    He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It's shaky, he's not entirely well, but he /is/ thinking more clearly. "He won't kill me," he says, suddenly shifting the subject back. "I /know/ that, I can /feel/ it. Maybe he /can't/ kill me, I don't know. But I knew there would be a price to pay, when I used Lucifer's bale water on his wing."

Cael Becker has posed:
    As Cael starts to lift the glass to her lips, it's knocked abruptly from her hands by some unseen force.
    "God damnit, Alis!" she explodes in frustration, angrily and futiley sweeping aside the rest of the bottle of whiskey, for lack of any other target. There wasn't any point in trying to pour herself another glass, after all.
    Her gaze locks onto Martin's, and while she listens to his words, there's nonetheless something empty and forlorn in her gaze. Martin simply doesn't understand. "If the angel takes him, it'll kill him," she says flatly. "Horribly."
    That pronouncement offered, she lets herself be gently herded towards the back, hesitating only briefly before she'll step into the space that until recently was the angel's prison.
    The buzzing of her phone is ignored as she focuses on Jon's pronouncement instead, looking unconvinced. "What do you mean it won't kill you? Why wouldn't it?"

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    As Jon gives his assessment Martin frowns. "You used... on it's..." he pales considerably. "Well... that's one way of pissing it off..." he says flatly. "And explains exactly why he won't kill you." He moves to stand near Jon, not quite hovering, but making his presence known by proximity.

    "If it's following Abrahamic Law... you didn't kill him. You hurt him. Probably more than he's ever been hurt... but you didn't kill him. Eye for an eye. He will likley want you to suffer and equal amount of pain in response for what you did... you don't have divine holy wings for him to use essentially acid on... so..." he frowns, clearly not liking the idea but if Jon can survive, that's better than the alternative. "He'll likely plan something that will hurt tremendously as a warning or message to others. Hurt me and feel the wrath of God fall upon thee."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon snaps and points at Martin. "Yes. /Precisely/. Cael, he's not... he doesn't see me as a /sinner/ to be punished. He sees me as an enemy, an..." He smirks. "An /adversary/, I suppose. And the rules are different, for that."

    He looks around the room, wheels of his mind starts to actually spin up. "Martin, can you conjure up some boxes? Cael, start pulling the books off the shelves and stack them on the table." He starts going after the ritual implements, talking as he does so.

    "That's the weakness. That's how we beat him. /Rules/. He is a creature of Order, of Law, of /rules/. He will follow them slavishly, to the letter. But we can think outside of those rules and laws. I promised to give myself up to his retribution--but I did not promise anything /else/. Maybe there's a spell we can put on me, that will let us track him, or weaken him. If nothing else..."

    He stops, and frowns. "If nothing else," he says softly, "it might let me get his statement. With that... perhaps I can judge him, and put him back where he belongs." He shudders. "I don't like to think what /Michael Demiurgos/' statment will be like, but... he may be arrogant enough to give me that advantage over him."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael simply stares at Jonathan - tears springing to her eyes. "How- How can you ask me to just let him take you?" she asks. "How can you- how can you ever ask that of me? Even if you're right, even if you do survive..." What that monster did to her has broken her inside, in many ways. Jon wouldn't come back the same. Who knows what he'll be when he returns? If he returns?
    She shakes her head helplessly, brushing away her tears with her hands. This is what happens when you let people in. God. Why did she let people in?

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin looks decidedly uncomfortable. He wants to help the woman but he doesn't know her more as anything but a coworker. He nudges Jon. She *his* friend. He needs to be the one to help her out of this situation.

    He moves to start doing as asked, slipping on a pair of white gloves marked with arcane inscriptions and sigils. He draws in on his power and manages to create several boxes of varying sizes in a short amount of time. He glances over at Cael for a moment to see what progress if any Jon has made with her.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon spins away from the shelf of ritual implements as Cael starts to cry. He walks over with long strides and leans down to wrap her in a hug.

    "I could not let him hurt my friends," he says fiercely. "Watching him hurt Zed, or Meggan, or John, or Lydia, when I knew there was something I could have done... it would /break/ me. I couldn't let that happen. So now they're safe from that, and all we have to worry about is me."

    He closes his eyes. "I don't /want/ this. I don't." He laughs. "Gods, I... I would /love/ it if someone could defeat him before he shows up for me. But I made a deal."

    He pulls back form the hug then, grips Cael's shoulders and looks down at her firmly. "But, look, we treat this like a... an undercover operation. You don't have to let him just take me. You help me figure out what we can do to use this to our /advantage/. How I can prepare, mentally. What information we might need." He swallows. "I need you to be there for me, after. Like I've been here for you. Because I am /going/ to come back. He got free, so he'll let me free. Even if that's a /stupid/ idea, he'll /do/ it, because those are the /rules/. Okay?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael leans into the hug, her hands going up to grip at his shoulders, rather than wrapping around him. The tears continue to streak down her cheeks as she struggles to get herself back under control again. "But you're asking me to let him hurt you," she counters. "Why? You're asking me to do what you can't do."
    Jon pulls away before she's ready - leaving her standing there awkwardly, staring at the floor and shaking her head. "When do we send someone undercover knowing they'll be tortured?" she asks. "I won't ever be okay with that. This isn't right."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    "Military infiltrations do it all the time" Martin replies. "They send people undercover into enemy encampments as POWs to gain information on enemy supplies, manpower, and aggressive ability." He's filling the boxes.

    "SHIELD does it too..." he says, looking at Jon for a while. "I was sent undercover to infiltrate a cult... I endured hazing rituals in order to get into it. I still have burn scars from the ordeal..."

    He looks aside for a moment before he nods looking back up. "We need to treat this as a military opperation. Michael is a Commander... the Supreme Commander of the Armies of Heaven." His expression is composed and ready. "His mind is that of a soldier. Rules of engagement. Regulations. Honorable surrender and the like can be exploited."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon swallows and glances to Martin, guilt crossing his features as his husband mentions going undercover in the cult. Then he sighs and looks back down at Cael.

    "None of this is /right/, Cael. The being who shaped the universe shouldn't want to destroy it--if he has such a bloody issue with Lucifer he should just come say so." He sighs. "But... it's the hand we were dealt. I'm not asking you to stop trying to find a way to keep him from taking me. I'm saying that will be futile, and your time is better spent trying to help me come out of it as inctact as I can."

    He frowns, and then leans back in to hug Cael again. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "Gods, Cael, I'm so sorry. But you won't lose me, I promise." He squeezes his eyes shut. He's going to cry again if he's not careful.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Don't make promises you can't keep - that's what she wants to tell him, but she swallows back the words, sinking back into the hug wordlessly as she tries to rein in her emotions. What she wouldn't give not to //feel// as acutely right now. But how do you manage that?
    After a time, her tears dry, and she pulls away, wiping at her eyes one last time. She still isn't ready to make eye-contact with either of them, however.
    "How do I prepare you for something like that?" she asks quietly. "When I understand so little about all of this? Magic isn't my strong suit. Neither is religion. I could- I could tell you more about what it was like, what I experienced. Maybe even give it as one of your damned statements, but I don't know if that would actually help."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin looks at Cael and nods. "It will. It will let him know what to expect of the being. Even if it doesn't use the same methods for him... he could..." he frowns. "Read into the motivations of Michael from what it did to you. Perhaps find a loophole."

    He looks at Jon with a frown. "Right?" He feels that he's been getting a better grip on what being the Archivist was for the man with each passing day. Understanding a bit more with each experience Jon has, terrible or productive.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon pulls back, expression sad. Cael didn't have to say the words for him to understand, but he doesn't respond directly. He's not sure what to say.

    Instead, he squeezes Cael's arms briefly, then goes back to pulling ritual implements down off the shelves to put them in the boxes, /very/ carefully. "Along those lines... actually... I've been trying to find... the Archivist is, naturally, supposed to have an Archive. There's the part that's on the Astral Plane, but there's also... documents, artifacts, things like that. My grandmother scattered them across the world in response to a threat I don't yet understand."

    He looks around at them both. "I already feel stronger, having the blood and the bale water in the Archive. I think that finding what we can of the Archive will help boslter me--and maybe if I can understand what I am better, understand my power, I'll have a better chance of..." He swallows. "Making it through."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael nods to Martin's words, but when Jon doesn't immediately take her up on the offer- honestly, she's a bit relieved. She would have told him, if he'd asked - but everything was a bit too raw, right now.
    She takes a deep breath in, letting it out slowly before she remarks, "Okay. So we go after the Archive. What sort of clues did your grandmother leave? How do we know where to look? How, umm... How can I help with that?" As she talks, she finally starts stacking up the books, and moving them into some of the boxes - though her heart still aches, and she still wants to scream.
    Or find the bottom of a bottle.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin finishes a shelf and moves to another. "That is what I've been wanting to ask?" he says turning to Jon. "Where are these clues coming from?" he asks. "Memories? or did you find something that was a coded list or...?"

    He slides a pile of old leather books wholesale into the box and moves to start putting vials and jars into them. He grabs a vial of some sort of vicous purple liquid. He makes a face and gingerly sets it into the box.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Ahh... sort of? I've been working with the estate agent to try to figure out where the things that Sasha got went, because there should be a catalogue of the items we're looking for and maybe clues as to where they went. There was a stipulation in Gran's will that if Sasha died within a certain amount of time after her death, all of to went to /me/." Jon sighs. "But I've been so bloody /busy/..."

    He shakes his head. "It looks like someone stepped in claiming /Sasha/ had a will and they were the benficiary. And..." He sighs. "Someone handed things over to this person without double-checking, and by the time anyone noticed the supposed will wasn't legitimate they'd made off with it all. Either incompetence or mind-control; I'm not certain which is worse." He shakes his head.

    "I might have a lead, in London, it's just a matter of finding the time to act on it, and... like I said... things have been busy."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "And those items were the Archive?" Cael asks. "Or they're somehow clues to the Archive?" Her voice continues to lack some of her usual animation as she talks, but she's at least trying - going through the motions as she folds the top of a box of books closed, and sets it aside, before she starts in on another.
    "Look, whatever I can do to help... I'll do. Tracking down this Archive, or retrieving it, or helping with research... Whatever it takes."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin looks at Cael for a moment and nods. "We'll all do it. Together." He tries to give the pair a smile but it's a strained thing. There is a great lack of optimism in the air today, especially with the power of the creature they have themselves up aginst.

    He finishes by placing a jar of what might be fish eyeballs into a box and sliding a stack of minal envelopes in the box after the jar.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon glances over and nods. "Thank you, Cael. And Martin. We'll figure this out."

    There's less talking as they finish boxing things up--both in the back room and out in the bar. Jon insists certain things that he could find be put in one box, anything that might have been Phoebe's, so he can take it to wherever she's gone to--he seems to know, even if he won't say. They load up the rest of the boxes in Jon and Martin's car--they'll give them to John, probably, when they get a chance.

    Jon stands next to the car, hands shoved into his pockets, while Cael and Martin bring out the last of the boxes. He stares up at the sky--at the new star shining there, hung above Hell's Kitchen.

    "And, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them..." He sighs.