9175/Do Not Cross The Tape

Do Not Cross The Tape
Date of Scene:	19 December 2021
Location:	The Laughing Magician
Synopsis:	The JLD returns to the Laughing Magician to ward it and close it up so no one will mess with the place. Some other people show up too--the Black Knight and Caitlin Fairchild. Minions of Lucifer cause trouble, Cael retreats when Caitlin calls on Michael, and there's potential trouble brewing between the JLD and Titans...
Cast of Characters:	Jonathan Sims, Phoebe Beacon, Cael Becker, Caitlin Fairchild, Lucifer, Dane Whitman, Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe, Atrun Rai, Chas Chandler, Michael Demiurgos
Tinyplot:	Path of Glory

---

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The main portion of the building housing the Laughing Magician and the loft apartment above is an empty shell. The ceiling of the bar is gone, the entirety of the apartment above is gone. The liquor has been cleared out of the bar and the till emptied, but there's still the matter of making sure people don't come in curiously poking around and get hurt. And while Jon and Martin and Cael cleared most things out of the back room--which is slightly seaparate from the rest of the building and thus didn't get destroyed--there's still big furniture in there that might need moving.

    Oh, and there's the Curio to think about. Oof.

    Jon's come back to the scene with his car full of boxes of various magic books and implements that he's trying to figure out where to store. He's bundled up against the cold--whose bright idea was "sunny and 37," anyway?--as he strides into the building, carrying a roll of bright red tape that has "DANGER KEEP OUT" printed on it multiple times. Not that that will be enough to actually keep people out, but he's debating finding a spell to discourage people from getting near the place.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    In comes the broken hearted. Phoebe pulls up on her motorcycle, a trailer behind it hitched on securely, with some wooden walls.

    Pulling her helmet off, Phoebe shakes out her braids and gives a huff of visible breath.

    "All of my sensitive stuff has been moved out of the Curio." she announces, and looks to the door of the Laughing Magician, getting quiet a moment as she regards the building.

    "What's the plan to keep people out?" she asks, and she pulls a little brown book from her bag. "I have a couple ideas. Repellant wards."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Unbeknownst to Sims - the bar hasn't been empty all night. Not to keep an eye on the place - no. Cael simply has a lot to think about. The woman has shut herself into that still-intact backroom, where she sits on the floor, staring at the place where Chas and the angel had been chained. She'd dozed for part of the evening, but the sound of still intact front door opening, and footsteps moving around the bar rouses her from a slight doze, and she pushes herself to her feet, a frown on her features. Instinctively, her hand goes to where she keeps her pistol, under her jacket - but there's nothing there. Not even her holster.
    Fuck.
    After a moment, listening to the footsteps, she pushes the door to the back room open as cautiously and quietly as she can to get a peek, only stepping out once she spots Jon. Her hair is mussed, showing her bright rainbow dye job underneath the upper layers of her blonde hair, and the exact same clothes as she'd worn the day before - only considerably more rumpled in appearance.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Excuse me." Caitlin hails Jon and Phoebe with a politely apologetic tone of voice. "Sorry-- is this the Laughing Magician?" She points at the structure Jon's cleaning out, comparing the street address to the one in her cell phone.

She certainly doesn't look the type to hang out at a nightclub for magical types. Low-heeled cavalry boots, modestly fitting jeans, and an eye-searing pink turtleneck worn under a white fleece jacket. With a beanie pulled down low over her forehead and a scarf around her neck, she could be mistaken for a college student on the wrong side of town.

Lucifer has posed:
The shades are invisible to the naked eye as they come.

Like ghosts, they come: four of them. They come from different directions, silent, floating towards the destroyed facility. To those that have appropriate magical vision or senses, they are ripples of presence, ghastly demons in nature. Demons that possess, control, examine...

They barely have limbs, but the limbs they do have are stretched, long and twisted, containing only one or two digit-like fingers. From their upper torsos, gaping maws, toothless but siphoning, are slightly bent askew, as they taste the air around the destroyed bar.

They have not entered the destroyed area, not yet, but they are /right/ there, now, watching, sensing, drawing information about what happened here, in the confusion of torn wards and broken sigils...

Dane Whitman has posed:
A sharp whinny is audible from overhead. Probably the last place one expects to hear such from. Is someone blasting Ghostriders In The Sky and taking inspiration...?

No, it's Dane circling for a landing.

That's not Strider he's on though, the wingspan is a little on the small side for that. He opted to get Aragorn out for a bit today, and in swoops the white stallion with a beat of his wings to aright before touching down with a clatter of hooves. Most of the predictable rubberneckers and press types are wise to take heed and make a hole for the arriving knight!

Trotting over beside the car that obviously belongs to the owner, or at least someone that matters to this place, Dane notes Phoebe, and replies,"I have no issues with that whilst mine presence lingers."

The speaker's identity is mostly concealed behind that visored helm of black and gold, the leather collar of his riderot upturned to assist while also providing obvious protection from the chill of the windy heavens.

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
    A small spill of pinkish purple smoke and a popbang of chaos magic echoes through The Laughing Magician to those who can sense those sort of things. Which to be far around here is like most poeple probably right.

    Misfit is sitting on the bar, cross legged, looking around curious at the emptied out establishment. The goggled teenager looks up at the removed roof and then back dow nand around blinking behind those orange tinged goggles. "Huh. This sucks. An Angel did this... aren't they supposed to be like.. the good guys or something?" yeah she is mostly talking to herself as she peers around sitting there.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    Once, on a night across the gulfs of time, a man looked out from atop a tall hill and saw a shining city of white towers, domes and spires plated with red-gold orichalcum gleaming sunlike in the last rays of the dying sun. That was a city. That was...a tremendous city, with its concentric rings of harbors and city blocks, the waterways and harbors between them. /That/ was a city. And after nearly forty-five thousand years, the appearance of what stands for one today is...underwhelming. Concrete, not marble. No gilded towers, dripping with crystal and inlaid frescoes. It is brutal. And, despite his desire to be happy that humanity has existed into this days, he still cannot help but be a little disappointed.

    And of course, soon it threatens to be ended.

    All the showmanship of magic on display, the floating horses, the music blaring, the press - all that only serves to further distract from the normal folk wandering by, among which is Atrun-Rai. Inoffensibly dressed, amongst the everyday people walking by, gawping. He stands across the street himself, leaning against a lamppost, surveying the destruction in the way that tourists or simply just civilians do - watching, seemingly not understanding, but accepting all the same. New York is full of terrible wonders, and many of them these days are very public. How would he be any different?

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon looks to Phoebe and nods. "Wards sound like an excellent idea, I was going to ask--"

    There are /people/, he suddenly notices. So, so many people. And demons curling in on the edges of things. He hunches his shoulders and peers at Caitlin for a moment. "Ahh... are you with the press...?" He glances her over for a press pass. "Umm, I don't think we're taking questions at this time, I'm sorry." The Justice League Dark needs a press corps liaison. Didn't one of the recent dossiers mention that?

    Dane's entrance is... weirdly comforting. At least it's within the normal milieu for the location. And then a puff of teleportation magic in his vision and he glances toward the bar. Spots Cael coming out, hair mussed, in the same clothing she wore last night.

    "Oh good /lord/," he mutters. Scans the crowd, then pulls a folded wallet out of his pocket and flashes it about too quickly for most people to catch. A badge of some sort. Raises his voice. "Anyone not involved in the /direct/ recovery effort needs to leave the area immediately!" He pushes out an aura of telepathic compulsion along with it, for people to /go/. Hopefully that will scatter the civilians--not likely to do much for people who fly in on horses.

    That done, he turns to stride toward the bar. They really need wards on the place to stop this from happening.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Flying horses and blaring music and all manner of magic that she *doesn't* see on an every-day basis briefly captures Phoebe's attention, and she takes a few steps back, not really wanting to contend with the press, the people pressing in. She's already a bit of a wreck, and she feels something --

    "Jon -- wait --" she breathes out, and she grabbs out her leather bag -- the backpack she took on paranormal investigations, and she pulls out a piece of chalk, and on the remains of the door to the Laughing Magician, she quickly builds up a circle with the chalk.

    "All those who do not belong here are bidden to leave, but hte power of My Light." she whispers, and presses her hand to the circle. She can feel the Demons within -- and she's trying to protect the remains of the building she once called Home.

Dane Whitman has posed:
The knight in somber raiment heeds the bellyaching of Sims and Phoebe now in an active manner.

With a click of his tongue to inspire his noble steed, the Black Knight mutters,"It shall be tended to."

With that said, he nudges up his left sleeve and touches something perhaps intriguingly out of place. With that gesture, a triangular hologram springs into existence originating on that arm, eventually coalescing and sharpening in nuanced definition until it settles into the likeness of a slightly transluscent golden kite shield. A dramatic display of visual effect, largely harmless but perhaps impressive enough in itself that as the winged horse canters before the rubberneckers and press corps they will listen as he declares,"Keep thine distance! I beseech thee, this place is unsafe!"

Aragorn gets in on the act with a flapping and fluttering of his wings, as if seeking to make himself more impressive than he already is!

Cael Becker has posed:
    There are suddenly more people present then Cael had counted on, and she takes a step back - letting the door to the backroom swing partially closed to shield her form. It was too many strange and unknown people for her to deal with at the moment - and so she simply watches, and waits - taking in Phoebe's warding, and the sound of Dane's dramatics with a faint frown pulling at her lips.

Lucifer has posed:
Two of the demonic shadows immediately get the full blast, and draw back into the alley and walkway behind the bar. The two others don't quite scatter - they go into the street, where passerby are starting to walk away... and meld into two innocent bystanders that were starting to leave. Both people - an elderly man in a plaid-lined blue jacket, and a young man with punky green hair-- turn slowly back towards the building, and then proceed to walk back over, their eyes dark and downcast, but they may just blend in with all the other people, as their demonic auras collapse into their current new hosts. They don't pass the chalk line, but there's lots of area for them to look around outside just fine...

At the alley, the two that were blasted hang back, spread out wide apart, with an inhuman patience and motionlessness.

Caitlin's question meets the ears of the elderly man with his dark, weird, flat eyes. "It waaaaas," agrees the man, as if thoughtful about the state of it now. "Now, it burns."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    Once, long ago, Atun-Rai was a man of the Light. One with it. Divinely inspired to push back the darkness. But those days...are long ago, millenia go. But it is no longer the case, now. Something within him, buried deep in his core, hisses softly at the sensation of the pressure Phoebe projects with her power. Could he resist it? Possibly. Even probably. But instead he moves on with the people, sensing that he has already learned a few things in ths moment. Later, he will visit further.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin yelps in surprise when the winged horse just swoops down from out of nowhere! She calms quickly once she realizes that the rider is more the issue than the beast. In fact she looks a lot more suspicious of Dane than of a flying horse.

Things devolve pretty quickly after that. The psychic compulsion makes Caitlin stagger badly and she rests a hand on a parking meter for balance. "Please don't do that again," she moans at Jon. The redhead takes a moment to collect herself and stands up, unaware her fingers have slightly dented the meter's fascia.

Scary, inky black eyes, sepulchural voice-- creepy, absolutely, and it's a vibe Caitlin's regrettably gotten used to after years of being associated with Rachel Roth.

"What is going on here?" she mutters sidelong to Phoebe and Jon. "This is starting to look like a bad supernatural TV show."

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
    Charlie remains sitting inside on the bar itself and peers over at the door to the back when Cael retreats back into the backroom using the door as a partial shield. "I don't think anything is going to be swooping in from the sky." she says helpfully, not having seen the flying horse. "I've been known to be wrong though. Sometimes. Maybe."

    Which is when she looks over to the doorway outside and Phoebe and Jon, raising a gloved hand and waving. "Do you two need help... I figured I would come help. If I can." which honestly tracks, the teen is always trying to be helpful.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon is stopped in his moving toward the bar by Caitlin's reaction to his compulsion, and particularly at the way her fingers dent the meter. Aha. Powered. "Sorry about that," he mutters. "It was for the civilians." He looks between Caitlin and Dane, narrows his eyes toward the demonically-possessed.

    "You two," he says to Dane and Caitlin, "come inside. Phoebe..." He eyes the demonically-possessed people, then says, "Show them in? I'll be right there."

    He walks over, then, to where the 'scouts' stand just outside the chalk circle. "I can guess why you're here," he says to the elderly man. "Scouts?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I'd like to remind you that you are not my dad, even though you're technically the responsible adult." Phoebe states dully. She sounds very tired.

    And she pushes the door open. "All right. You two, inside." she looks to the horse... and then she tilts her head back "The horse too. I don't think they make anti-theft for winged animals." she explains, bodily opening the door more so that they can enter into the partially warded space. "Before more people show up."

    And she would lead them down into the bar proper, where all the alcohol and the till's been removed, there's a mess of plaster, wood and something electrical might be sparking.

    She hops up onto the counter, and sets her bag next to her.

    "Caitlin." she greets Fairchild with, and gives a rub of the back of her head, and then looks to Dane. "Not a clue who you are." she murmurs, and then she spreads her hands out "Welcome to the Laughing Magician. I'd offer a drink but... uh --" she looks behind the bar.

    "... let's face it, there's nothing to offer, really."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael's gaze goes to Charlie - though she doesn't offer a verbal response. She simply studies the woman, her expression closed and guarded, a frown still on her features. Finally, she offers an answer to Charlie's initial comments, her quite voice carrying through the empty bar. "Angels are not what we think - not what popular culture teaches us."
    Of course, she's judging from experience with a single, lone angel - but the impression she's left with hasn't been favorable.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane promptly heeds the directive of Sims, the kiteshield winking from sight as the pegasus trots back to the building. Dismounting therefrom, Dane whispers to the stallion,"You stay right here. Okay, boy?"

The horse chuffs and nods in response, and just in case, the reins are strapped to the sign.

Stepping in, Dane mutters to Sims,"She sends her regards."

Breezing on in, Dane drops the act a touch and inquires with a loose folding of his arms over the warbird emblazoned logo of his breastplate,"I was informed there was a situation here. That seems to have been accurate, though nobody rightly knows just what."

Dark eyes survey round, taking in his surroundings and the nature of the damage. Then...they settle back on Sims.

Lucifer has posed:
In the back room, by Cael Becker, one of the alleyway shades makes an appearance. It stares in a window, and turns slowly visible, to stare at her and beckon. Let it in. Or come out? It is very nice and would also like to come in. Best friends? The dark eyes are haunting, hypnotic.

"When you fight the holy host, you attract the gaze of the pit," rumbles the green-haired possessed youth in a voice most congruent with Zuul from Ghostbusters, certainly not the young man being possessed. The voice carries, vibrates against the ward, like needles poking holes in gossamer tissue. The demons aren't pushing too hard yet, but they intend to do what they came to do.

"Common enemy, have we, Simmmmmmmmmmmms?" Asks the elderly man, in his more whisper-softened tone, staring at Jon, then past him inside, lingering on Caitlin. He liked her, maybe. But then he looks at Dane, sensing the gaze the armored man is putting on Sims.

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
    Charlie looks over at Cael when she responds. "Well that sucks. I mean I figured they were all sorts of wings with eyes and wheels of fire and all not cherubs... or sexy angels... but still this sucks. I'd love to know why they nuked the bar..."

    She looks down the bar at Phoebe. "Hey. Is everyone okay. Like .. I mean I know obviously not ..." vague gesture at the bar. "But like... was anyone hurt badly? Hopefully no?"

    Dane is a distraction "Oh wow... a knight like... really?" she blinks a couple of times there. Still fully armored kitted up herself, just a very different theme of armor.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
The headache takes a little time to dissipate, so Caitlin errs on the side of following Phoebe into the building. Jon doesn't look scared, and Phoebe is exuding a certain tactical confidence that sounds a -little- familiar to the redhead.

But it's not until they're in the bar and she looks directly at Phoebe, when she hears her name, that it clicks. "Oh my gosh! Phoebe!" She offers the familiar face a quick but affectionate hug.

"I'm so glad you're here. What on Earth is going on?" she demands of the healer. "We've been getting alerts all over town the last day or two, Raven's detection grid is lit up but we can't seem to catch up to the events fast enough."

The distant rumbling in the other room catches Caitlin's attention for a moment but her focus comes up short with Charlie and Dane joining the little party. "No one's hurt, right? Do we need EMS?" she asks of the four as a group.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon flicks a glance at both Phoebe and Dane as they depart, then focuses back on the possessed. Swallows, hard. They know his name. Of course they know his name. He really ought to get used to that.

    He turns back to the teen and the elderly man, folds his arms across his chest. "Let me be perfectly clear," he says, in an even tone. "I'm not taking sides in your war. Think of me like the police--I keep an eye on /all/ of you. I am... grateful for the help we've gotten so far." Even if it led to his promising an archangel he'd let it take him away for 'retribution' at some point. And even if he's sure whatever debt he may owe has not yet come due. "If you're interested in helping us keep the universe intact, I'm open to talking about that."

    A beat. "But I'd /really/ appreciate if you'd leave innocent people alone. I can overlook it once, but keep it up and I'll have to start making arrests on your side of the fence, too, as it were. If we need to talk, I can ask Phoebe to take down the ward. But those people do /not/ deserve you piloting their bodies around like mechs. You will find that the Archivist, at least, is on the side of free will above all else. So--let them go, and we can talk. Otherwise, you can lurk here and see what you can figure out from the sidelines."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    PHoebe stiffens as she's hugged, she does not hug back, but awkwardly gives a soft pat on Caitlin's shoulder.

    "I'm okay." she states, and she looks over to Charlie, and then to Cael, and then she breathes out and rubs the back of her head as she extracts herself. She can't blame Caitlin for not recognizing her. She looked very different at the last Themysciran event they saw each other at.

    "The party was last night. The Archangel Michael kinda switched places with my latest adopted dad and left a hole in the roof. And I can feel something at the edges --" she trails off a moment, and she reaches into her bag and pulls out a can of white spraypaint and a leather book.

    "Long story short, murderous MIchael wants to wipe out our existence. Chas Chandler called him from on high to help with something and he answered in the worst ways, so we're facing possibly an extinction level event. Doesn't surprise me that Raven's grid's probably lit up like Christmas." she tests the paint a couple times, then gives the can a shake, and begins to paint a circle on the floor.

    "For those who aren't aware -- hello, Phoebe, I have a ton of last names at this point so they don't particularly matter.

    She pauses, and calls out to Jon "Hey Jon! We could just torch the place entirely. That'd stop anyone from wandering in."

    It's not a serious suggestion.

Cael Becker has posed:
    The door to the backroom is left slightly cracked, as Cael feels her gaze pulled towards the window. She steps further into the backroom, towards the window, leaving Charlie's comments unanswered. She even starts to lift her hand towards the latch when-
    "No," she says simply in a quiet voice. No.
    "Sims," she says - raising her voice slightly in the hopes that it will carry, without removing her gaze from the window. She can feel her heart starting to thud in her throat. "There's something that wants in." There's the slightest edge of panic in her voice, as she struggles against that influence on her mind. It wants //in//. Not again. Not again. Her will is her //own//.
    Her hand remains poised, partway towards the latch - frozen in place.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Falling quiet at the addressing of the possessed individuals by Sims, Dane doesn't exactly disregard the eyes on him but he does let his previous statements and question hang in the air for the time being.

This one isn't easily distracted. Not even by prying eyes in the window.

The knight cavalier stands silent there, just listening. The explanation does draw a sharp eye however. Not one of amusement either. That can wait for when the situation at the door is resolved, however...

Lucifer has posed:
"Siiiiiiiiimple," purrs 'Zuul'/young man possessed demon, showing awful, black-goop teeth.

The other demon cuts in, though. They have different personalities: "Remove ward, we inspect. Possession? MMmmmm. We are only in these gross flesh-suits to protect ourselves from your aggressive, /unnecessary/ bright lights," barters the elderly man. "/YOU/ triggered us to adapt. The pit has no quarrel here. I will happily report your desire to fight both heaven and the pit at the same time, though." And the demon will enjoy the hell out of that report.

Zuul is just staring inside, listening to Phoebe's report, alertly.

"Yesssss. Not no." offers the demon at the window of Cael's, with big, sad eyes... which doesn't look at all like 'big sad eyes', it looks like misery and depression in a ghastly wrapper, if it were also melting. "Lonely? Am lonely too. Help each other, yes."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"The.... Archangel." Caitlin's not one to accuse people of fibbing, but the way her brows climb up towards her hairline, she clearly doesn't believe it. "That's not possible, Pheebs. For one, it wasn't an angel, because angels don't do that kind of thing. Second, it can't be Michael, because Michael is the Right Hand of God. He protects us from evil, like the Devil." She makes a little unconscious motion to cross herself when she invokes the Almighty. It's warm enough in the old bar to remove her cap and scarf, and she bundles them up to jam them into a vest pocket.

Caitlin's eyes cut sideways to the back room and she heads over to the door to finish opening it, finding Cael paralyzed mid-motion. The redhead deliberates for a few moments and then turns back to the rest of the bar. "But I will give you full points for creepy factor. Whatever these things are."

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
    "I'm glad you're okay." she says brightly to Phoebe. She means it too. "Misfit" she announces to the room and hooks a thumb at herself then she shifts to hop down from the bar and heads to the backroom where Cael called for Sims with some slight panic. She is a helper. She sidesteps Caitlin and steps into the back, those orange goggles have the tiniest glow to them as she peers across the room then looks past Cael out the window.

    "Uuugn... can I say, for the record, I really really dislike Demons and I may add Angels to that list." frankly she has had more than enough of the former after that whole Demons Three incident with Faust that Constantine helped her out with months ago. She fishes around in her utility belt and pulls out a 'brass knuckle' made of silver, etched with a cross, and blessed holy watered by a priest. "Yo. Dude. Want me to come out there and punch you in the back of the head a few times.. I've punched way bigger demon jerkfaces than you in the teeth and enjoyed it!"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's back stiffens at Cael's words. At the things the demons say. His expression goes flat.

    "Let me make one thing absolutely, completely clear. I burned an archangel's wing because it touched Cael Becker." His eyes narrow at the young man. "What do you think I'll do to /you/ if you don't back off?"

    He shakes his head. "Tell your boss to spread the word that I am drawing a clear, bright line--you want to deal? You come to me. Do /not/ touch my people--and that means anyone in SHIELD, the Outsiders, or the Justice League Dark. If you do, and I find out? Whoever did so will /wish/ that all I did was burn a wing. I have no interest in war, but I will /not/ let you harm my friends."

    He smiles, then. "And I have a /lot/ of friends. It doesn't have to /me/ that makes some idiot demon pay for crossing the line. Lucifer can drag me to suffer in Hell when Michael's done with me and I assure you, the price will still be paid. So... back. Off."

    With that, he turns to walk into the bar. Raises his voice. "Phoebe, can you ward the back, too? The minions of Hell seem to think possession is a good way to get in our good graces. Stupid idea, given recent events."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Working on it." the young exorcist-and-light-bearer states as she finishes spraypainting her circle on the floor. Say what you might about her old teacher, but he was extremely thorough when it came to her mandala work.

    "... and I'm sorry, Caitlin. I have no reason to doubt what the Angel said when He stated who He was, when He took Chas."

    She breathes out, and she gives a soft command, casting in Liverpuddlian-accented Latin, and brings her hand down and lights the spraypainted circle aflame.

    The young mage floods the area with her Light, the first level of a ward to keep people out. The rest she'll have to do while no one else is here to distract her -- but that should be enough to discourage that scout from wanting to come in and make friends.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael has been lonely for a long time, and that offer is tempting. It pulls at the right strings, and she steps closer to the window, her fingers resting lightly on the latch.
    Before she can undo it, though, her hand is abruptly jerked aside, as if some unseen force had slapped it away, and others have entered into the room, speaking to the shadow outside the window.
    She finally pulls her gaze away from the creature, trying desperately to fight the pressure in her mind - but it clearly isn't easy for the woman.
    "The Archangel Michael is a fucking bastard," she grits out to distract herself. "And I hope he burns in hell for eternity."
    Because apparently that kind of shit really does happen.
    The pressure in Cael's chest, and in her mind eases as Phoebe releases her light - and a breath of relief escapes her lips, the hand that had been reaching for the latch coming to rest across her chest, instead.

Dane Whitman has posed:
The knight appreciates solid arcane workmanship, even if he himself is no mage. He understands the principles of what she's doing well enough. His dour gaze lingers not however, for Sims is who he's here to discuss with.

And so the quiet man in armor turns to face him.

That armor certainly looks heavy, yet he is visibly unencumbered. It doesn't have any of the racket that moderns would expect either. There is only the slightest rattle of chain against his breastplate and that's only noticeable if one is paying attention or unusually perceptive. The workmanship is, in short, quality in the extreme.

Lucifer has posed:
The fourth demon scout, which has done nothing other than watch, finally makes a move. It comes in sideways towards the possessed pair, in an invisible flurry of fang and oblong claws. It releases a long string of profanity in a demonic language that makes the area peel a little with heat.

It's yelling at the /other two/ demons though.

"You are not in charge," retorts Zuul.

"You forget!" vents the other. Which has got to be funny looking, these two men yelling at the air, to anyone that can't see demons. In the back area, Cael's friend looks mutinous about the light issue, but tries lightly to just speak to Cael. "Let us help you burn him," mouths the demon to Cael. It looks at Charlie but steps back. See, nice demon, only helping the lonely! No need for punches.

On the front, the possessed demons seem to be having a snarling infight and aren't giving Jon full attention anymore. "I will succeed here, fools. Stand down." "The prize is MINE. I will be rewarded." "You are in a sack of human filth, weak one." "/You/ have failed!"

Evil has a hard time cooperating.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
It is -really- inconvenient to deal with enemies who can possess bystanders. Best case you have to listen to them monologuing and being creepy. Worst case you have to hope you can just knock their physical shell out long enough for the creature to be evicted.

But these aren't aliens or ghosts. They're demonic, and so sinister and malevolent that their very voice makes Caitlin's hackles rise. No matter the apparent confusion about archangels; this is a far more immediate threat.

The others start pulling wards together and Caitlin backs up to the bar while searching for a way to contribute. A single page from the Watchtower flits past her feet on eddies of soot, a survivor of the fire.

"Princeps gloriosissime caelestis militiae!" Caitlin's voice rings clear and authoritatively even though she's reading from her cell phone. "sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio et colluctatione, quae nobis adversus principes et potestates," she continues. Her eyes rise, trying to gauge if the ritual exorcism is working at all. One hand holds her phone; the other holds out a rosary, a very simple little thing that looks very well-loved. "Adversus mundi rectores tenebrarum harum, contra spiritualia nequitiae, in caelestibus!"

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
    Okay Charlie seems fairly satisfied that her non-metaphorical fist shaking seemed to make the demon step back from the window. "... demons... the worst." she notes helpfully to Cael as she steps further in and finishes putting the 'brass knuckles' on her already weighted gloves.

    She reaches out and gives Cael a reasurring shoulder pat if the other doesn't step away. "Okay so.. I want to send one of these jokers back to hell with a message for Ghast.... be right back okay?"

    With that she vanishes with a pop of chaos magic and a millisecond later is behind the demon who backed from the window slicing a punch into his amorphous form where the glowing tempting eyes are, the consecrated silver tinged with chaos magic as she strikes, and vanishes instantly just to reappear at a different angle to strike again. Moving at the speed of thought and fists really in the back alley. "Darrrrk Vengeance! HssssSs"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    The darkness outside suddenly turns to daylight and the voice of Michael the Archangel rings from the sky. "Brother mine... Adversary... Morningstar. Should you wish to quarrel with me and the Hosts of Heaven, you should come in person. While the call upon me is not that of a true mage, I will answer in kind. Let this be your warning. Interfere, and you will meet the End set for you sooner than you anticipate!"

    Four beams of light flare from the sky and fall towards the two demons and two possessed. There is something odd about their trajectory. The beams move without the suddeness of a True Mage's words behind them and it's possible that some of those targetted might escape Oblivion should they be fast enough to depart.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael shifts away from the touch of Charlie's hand - the wariness and defensiveness clear in her posture and her gaze. It's mere moments later that that voice speaks - a voice she knows so clearly, and dreads so very deeply. Her empty stomach heaves, until she spits out only slimey stomach acid on the floor. Wiping at her lips - she starts for the door, her shoulders set, and her jaw clenched tightly.
    She shouldn't have stayed here. It was a bad idea.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The Heavens opened up and light was dispatched, at Caitlin's call, to dispatch the four demons hanging around the Laughing Magician. It's an awful spike that makes Phoebe grab on the nearest booth for support, and grabs at her sternum as well, eyes going wide -- and she levels A Look over to Caitlin.

    When Phoebe speaks, it's in Themysciran.

    <I really wish you hadn't done that>. she mutters, and she stands up, and begins to do a second circle around the first.

Dane Whitman has posed:
At the display of brilliance outside, Dane turns and now actually moves from his post to gaze outside. Finally something he hasn't seen before...

And his gaze doth widen...

And then Dane mutters in the archaic tongue of the old heathen peoples of ancient England,"Thone as siexta daeg..."

He shakes his head in wonderment and backs from the window then, judging that to be just a touch out of his immediate league!

Lucifer has posed:
The effects and attacks on the four demons varies.

The one demon in the back was surprised and ambushed by Charlie, getting torn into bits by weapons it didn't realize could hurt it -- and was weakened enough to simply be entirely blotted into nothingness by the combo of Charlie's attacks and the Light From On High. It's just /gone/. It won't be giving any messages to anyone.

In the front, both the demons possessing innocent humans felt the wave of incoming exorcism, and they leaped free. Both got clear of the holy blast from above. It strikes the humans they were in - not harming them, but they do collapse on the ground, unconscious but alive. The demons bolt as fast as they can go.

The last demon, the one that had arrived to snarl at the failures of its cohors, was struck directly, heavily wounded, and kind of sits there, stunned, on the front area, collecting itself, deciding what to do, perhaps.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon walks in to chatter and then a prayer... and then the voice and power of Michael the Archangel outside. He was going to go check on Cael, but the voice makes him stop dead in his tracks and hunch his shoulders uncomfortably. He's not looking forward to meeting /him/ again.

    He goes to try to help Cael while she's wiping at her lips, but backs off as she shies away. "Cael..." He turns to watch her leave, and his hands clench into fists. Frustration and guilt cross his features, tears stand in his eyes for a moment. He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Cael." What else can he /say/?

    He turns to look at the others in the room, particularly those he hasn't met, blinking back the tears in his eyes. "That was indeed Michael the Archangel," he says quietly. "He nearly killed one of our team." He gestures after Cael. "He's declared that he's going to come back on 6th January, likely with an invading army of the Host. His ultimate goal is to destroy and re-make the universe."

    He swallows. "Jonathan Sims," he introduces himself. "The Archivist. Member of the Justice League Dark, which has been dealing with this... mess." He rubs at the back of his neck.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Yeah. It sure was," Cait whispers. She's still staring skywards, ears ringing with the voice of the Archangel. Holy terror, awe, unbridled joy-- all emotions are subsumed under an expression of transcendent bliss.

It takes her a few moments to re-focus her attention on the task at hand. She uses her scarf to wipe some moisture from her eyes. "I... did -not- expect that to happen," she admits.

It takes a beat to shake it all off. Jon's Being Polite at her, so Caitlin reciprocates with a handshake. "Caitlin Fairchild," she says. No codename. Then again, someone who went toe to toe with Doomsday and lived probably doesn't have much in the way of a secret identity.

She looks over at Phoebe and shrugs helplessly. "I just felt this... gut instinct that a prayer was the right thing to do, and I figured, okay, they're evil, probably demonic, so... I just googled an exorcism and read the first hit. I probably--" she pauses, then shakes her head. "I said 'I probably read it wrong', but you all heard Him. The Archangel. He smote them down. Literal Old Testament," she says, in awe. "If he were such a bad guy, why would he come to my terrible prayer just to save us?" she points out.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Just because two groups are fighting each other, doesn't mean they're on our side," Jon says. He regards Caitlin solemnly. "I know it's hard to accept, but... have you heard of the Papal Killer? That was Michael. Mind-controlling people into crucifying themselves, treating shoplifters in the same manner as murderers."

    He glances to the door again, where Cael left. "He mind-controlled Becker. Hurt her. Made her fight us." He presses a hand to his shoulder. "He took away her choices, her will, and he'll do it to /everyone/ if he isn't stopped. I don't care about 'good' or 'evil' right now. I care that this thing hurt people I care about, and wants to remake the world in its image. That he found a loophole to put my friend--who just wanted to /help/ the world--up on the Gates of Heaven so Michael can come threaten the rest of us. And... I care that the Book of Revelation has a lot to say about the fate of most of humanity during the End Times, and none of it's good."

    He looks to Dane. "...Do I know you?" The man /does/ keep kind of... orienting to him. And he should know what that meant, earlier, 'she sends her regards.'

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
    Charlie makes a disappointed noise as Michael goes and disinigrates the demon she was punching the unholy crap out of. "Aww.. I was going to tell him to tell the demon three to get wrekt..." she squints at the scorch mark in the alley. "Honestly I don't think there is anything left to pass along my message... crackers."

    The chaos muppet teenager in bat gear breaths a deeeeeep old sigh next and then teleports back into the bar proper with that slash of pinkish purple smoke and the pop of chaos magic. She looks around. "I punched a demon." she notes sounding very pleased with herself. "Also.. something disinigrated the demon with a beam of light from the sky... which was very epic but I had it totes under control." she peers at the people in the bar. "Did I miss anything important?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe continues her work, drawing down close as she finishes the second round of warding. That one will just make it unpleasant for others to cross to the premesis. It's minor, but...

    She looks up at the gathering, and frowns a moment, reaching up to rub her left shoulder a moment.

    "A lot's changed." she mutters quietly.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Sometime during the monologue of Sims, Dane manages to become less interested in what's happening outside. He does feel bad for Aragorn getting a front row to that...

Dane's attention now rests once again on Sims as he's finally singled out, and Dane raises his visor to allow a view of the man beneath as he replies,"Dane Whitman, Se Cnichte Blaec. The Black Knight. I was instructed to lend you what assistance I can."

And with a slide and tap, the visor is lowered once more before he adds,"And it would seem you could use it."

Lucifer has posed:
Jon Sim's phone makes the noise it makes when it gets a text. It's from an unknown number.

On the front stoop, suddenly there is an streak of fire from the ground, potent and lethal, that burns the wounded demon in a narrow, tall pyre of shrieking. It's not a quick death. Lots of passerby are now staring at it. There's some magma cracks in the pavement that are toasty warm.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin's already shaking her head at Jon before he finishes speaking. "No, that's-- that's not possible," she tells him stubbornly. "God sent us His angels to protect and watch over us. That was the whole reason Lucifer fell, he refused to protect mortals like God ordered him."

Caitlin glances over at the Knight as Dane moves to address Jon, and she takes it as a moment to re-center herself. The flared light from outside catches her attention and she steps to one of the broken-out low windows, standing on tiptoe to look out at the pyre. It burns and burns, and Caitlin just stares with gory fascination as the demon's burned to slag.

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
    "I thought Lucifer fell because he was like.. so prideful that he thoguht he could usurp God's throne with his free will and all of that and actually led a rebellion against the host of angels and god?" she blinks behind those orange goggles.

    "So Michael blew the roof off the bar and attacked us?" yeah Misfit uses the whole Us thing because she views an attack on the bar as an Us thing. She carefully takes off the silver holy knuckles and tucks them into her utility belt in their pocket. They fold cleverly to fit in the pouch.

    "So what are we going to do about all this?" she pauses "Does Zee know yet?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's phone buzzes and he pulls it out, shakes his head. "Now he's /texting/ me. The Prince of Hell is /texting/ me. My life /cannot/ get any bloody weirder."

    He keeps talking while he replies, thumbs moving across the screen swiftly. For all the grey in his hair, he's a millenial through and through. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. Sir Whitman... oh! Yes." He glances up, finally putting two and two together. It's been a hard few days. "We'll be glad of the assistance, yes. Really, everyone who can should mobilize."

On his phone: Dr. Sims, I understand you have a demon problem; please accept my apology. A stray remark of curiosity about the angelic energy at the Laughing Magician caused a... miscommunication with an employee of mine. Their scouts will not bother you again. If I can make it up to you, please don't hesitate to let me know. Have a wonderful evening!
Jon: Did they pass on my message?
The reply: I will handle their punishments for any threats against your group. I have a zero tolerance policy on possession.
Jon: Good to know. I do thank you for your assistance in this matter. No need to make things up--the demons are gone, and that's all we needed. Again, thank you.
Reply: Some amusing wine-glass clinking emojis and a fire emoji.

    As this is going back and forth, Jon says to Caitlin, "I wish it were that simple. I really, really do." He looks to Charlie. "She's closer to right, however. And Michael believes that free will, the cause of the Fall, should be eliminated."

    He sighs. "Zed was here. She... Michael was going to take us away to... punish us. Divine retribution against those who'd captured him. That included me, her, Meggan Puceanu, Lydia Dietrich, Rien d'Arqueness... probably John Constantine, too. I... made a deal, though. He... won't be punishing the others." A flicked glance, guilty, toward Phoebe. "Various groups are being alerted and mobilized. If you know anyone who can help..."

Dane Whitman has posed:
The dour knight hrms at the explanations flitting back and forth. The commonality is easy enough to divine, pun intended, but it doesn't make for any tidier a report. There would indeed need to be a report, after all.

He replies somewhat tersely,"Someone needs to explain to these powers how sacrifice works. It isn't sacrifice without free will. It's just murder, and that...wait..."

He then harumphs and mutters coarsely before venturing sardonically,"Did he sound like Christopher Walken? Please tell me he sounded like Christopher Walken."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Man I feel like I'm the only one who threw down that night and isn't up for divine retrobution." Phoebe quips from her work, and finally she stands. The circles she's made on the floor are about eight feet wide, rendered in spraypaint and then scorched into the tiles.

    "Does the PRince of Hell want in on the fight against Michael? I mean, we already have one Hell lord on our side. Who knows, but-- OK, you in the armor, what? Walken? Obviously would have gone more with Travolta, but he sounded way more like the trumpeting of doom etched onto the delicate glass of existence, musical in tonality but terrible, hard for fragile minds to hear. Or the Goblin King from that movie with the muppet pissing in the fountain in the beginning. Also --" she pats herself down a moment, and finds a book of matches.

    "Doesn't matter. he's an asshole."

    And she lights the last circle to scorch it into the floor of the Laughing Magician.

    "Not my best work -- but it'll keep gawkers out."

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
    Honestly Charlie looks pleased that Sims says she was closer to right about the whole Lucifer falling from Heaven business. "Nice." she says about herself and getting it right.

    She walks over to the bar and pushes up to sit on it once more as people go around. "Can you teach me the wards you are doing sometime?" is tossed over to Phoebe when she finishes and stands from the task. "I should probably learn some wards.. Zee would probably agree.. probably. I should ask." distracted as per usual.

    "Oooh.... shoots.. does this mean we get to punch an Angel!?" she is way too excited about this idea.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"No, that's not--" Caitlin fumes a little at Jon and Charlie's repartee. "That's not right. God told Lucifer to bow down to humans and to protect us against all else. He didn't do that, and then later the Devil tricked Adam and Eve into eating the Forbidden Fruit. That's what original sin is."

She looks askance at the crew. Phoebe's weird, but nominally OK by virtue of sorority. The rest of them get a wary look and Caitlin's posture shifts a little. Dane, Charlie, and Cael don't *look* real threatening... but they're obviously here looking for Jon, who now claims to be texting the Lord of Hell.

"Listen, I don't know everything about everything, but you guys know I've been doing the cape and tights thing for ten years. We've got up against some seriously bad supernatural enemies. I can tell you for sure, that it's not Michael who is threatening people. It's someone who is *pretending* to be him. That sounds like a snow job to me, and it's probably the same person who is texting you right now-- some faker or con artist."

She digs out her cell phone and pulls a business card out of the thin wallet to set it on the bar counter. A stylized T in a circle is next to her name, the physical address of Titan's Tower, and a phone number. "When you figure out which is which, you call me and I'll come help set things to rights," she promises them.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon snaps and points at Phoebe. "David Bowie! Thank you! That's been bothering me all bloody night." Yes, this is what one focuses on when there's impending Divine Retribution coming for you. Admittedly, thinking about /that/ would have him curled in a ball with his pillow between his teeth so he doesn't wake the entire Trisk with his screaming. Can't afford that just now--there's work to do.

    He finally gives Caitlin a piercing look. "It is /not/. I /know/. It is my /job/ to know. The collected knowledge of over five thousand years of Archivists knows." He sighs, and takes the card regardless.

    "There's faith, and then there's blind devotion, Ms. Fairchild. Any loving deity would, like a good parent, not mind a little questioning. And I don't think... I don't think your God /wants/ this. The God?" He rubs at his face. "Starting to feel like I need a chart."

Dane Whitman has posed:
The knight in somber raiment doesn't really have a hat solidly in the ring where matters of faith are concerned. Not at this point in his life. He's seen some shit. What he just saw was certainly impressive, but for him it's just one more thing.

Dane keeps his own counsel on whether or not that was actually Michael. He knows a problem when he seees one though. A big one, in this case.

Dane watches Phoebe then. A brow arches beneath his helmet...

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe looks over to Caitlin with a neutral look, and she finalizes a couple of details on her circles. There was a connection, of course, but Pheobe knew she'd never be among the Amazons.

    "Believe what you want. I'm tired of being pushed around by gods and godlings and angels. God never reached out when I prayed. Neither did Persephone, Hecatate..." she takes out her green knife, and brings up her left hand.

    "If it were up to me, in just this moment, the lot of them should be bound and dropped. Maybe Michael even has the right of it... but he made a mistake.

    She slices her palm, and consecrates the circle with her own blood.

    "Chas didn't know about all of my abilities."

    And to Charlie, she gives a wan smile. "We'll ask Zee if you're ready for them."

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
    "Ooh... blood magic." is chirped from her seat on the bar as she watches Phoebe. "Also aren't there like whole pantheons of gods not just the angel and demon one?"

    "Zee has me practicing teleportation spells without using my chaos magic version and some logomancy... I'd think with how often I run into demons it would be good to have wards or bindings... or maybe just be able to summon swords of power to smite them..."

    There is a pause.

    "Do you think there is a spell to summon a sword of power. I want a sword of power now..."

    Someone somewhere thinks it is a good idea to let this chaosBatling learn magic. Honest. "Is that where the knight gets his armor...." she looks at Dane "Do you have magic sword of power?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon watches Phoebe work for a moment, then comments, "There are indeed /many/ pantheons. I serve the gods of Egypt, myself, for the most part--particularly the ones involved in the Duat, the mechanisms of judging souls. That... is why I'm involved with this. I'm one of those meant to stop angels and demons when they get out of line--in my case, by judging them."

    He considers Charlie's question to Dane a moment before turning to the safe behind the bar. "Phoebe," he asks idly, "do you know the combination for this?" He came here to finish cleaning it out, after all, and hand the extra boxes over to Phoebe.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"For I am the LORD your God, and you will have no other gods before me. Exodus 20," she says. On anyone else it would come across as truly sanctimonious, but Caitlin says it with such clarity and devotion that it is uttered as totally sincere.

"I've sworn to serve the Theoi of Themyscira, and they've aided me when I need it. But there is only one God," she says. "And of the two of us I'm pretty sure the side with Lucifer is the wrong one."

Caitlin looks around and nods at the group. Phoebe gets a short wave of farewell to go with the little motion. She's halfway out the door when she pauses to look over her shoulder. "I'm going to head back to Titan's Tower and look into this more. We've got some of the best resources in the world for this kind of magic. Kick back, and let the professionals handle this," she suggests. "It's definitely not our first rodeo," Caitlin adds, and heads out to the streets beyond.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "My blood's special." Phoebe comments as she straightens up. The cut's already disappeared, but the atmosphere in the Laughing Magician is slowly changing to unwelcoming, provided the conflicting magic lets it. "Have you tried holding your hand up and asking 'For the Honor of Greyskull'? You could try maybe etching something onto the back of your gloves to summon it with a word. I cheat with some fire invoking because my red gloves have runs and sigils on the back. I got the idea from a TV show." Phoebe explains to the other sister-in-arms. "Zee's helping me fill in some gaps while I work out some other things --" she states as she hops the bar, and looks to Dane.

    "Gotta wonder where you got the horse. I've always wanted a winged horse, since I was like, three." she explains, and then she ducks down to the safe, and she takes a deep breath.

    And she goes to open it, knowing the combo is one thing, but if this was booby-trapped, she'd rather she take the blow than John.

    "And that is why I will never, ever join the Titans." she mutters to herself.

    0-7-2-5-2-0-1-1.

    And she goes to pull the lever to open the cash safe.

Dane Whitman has posed:
The knight shrugs at Phoebe and replies noncommittal,"Trade secret."

He then eyes the Misfit and the humor vanishes from his tone as he replies,"My sword is potent, if that's what you're asking. I don't draw it unless something needs to die."

If Phoebe thinks Aragorn is impressive, she should meet Strider! The big knight isn't big on explanations to strangers, and he has only just met these people. His name was a step further than normal for him in light of these circumstances.

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
    Misfit looks disappointed but nods slowly to Dane "I guess so... I mean with Great Swords come Great Responsibility"

    She sighs lightly and then shifts with a wiggle to look down at Phoebe "Ooooh the anime one wiht the robot dude... " the gloves she is talking about the gloves. Maybe.

    She holds her hand up "For the honor of greyskull!" nothing happens, well other than a tiny flicker of chaos energy around her fist. That can't be good.

    "Hmm.. I will need to work on this. It would be rad to summon a sword of power and smite demons or stuff." she notably doesn't say angels. She almost did. But Caitlin seems maybe offendable by that.

    Speaking of which she peers at Cait "Uh... we are the professionals. I mean magic professionals." gods help everyone.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon glowers after Caitlin for a moment. That was always why the Papal Killer would have come for him, he assumed--he violates the First Commandment by merely existing.

    But he does call after her, "Please inform the Titans that if they wish to speak to the /Justice League/ Dark about this matter they can contact us. I'm certain Zatanna would be happy to discuss the particulars, as am I." Because Charlie's right--they /are/ the professionals, at least where this sort of thing is concerned.

    Then he sighs, and looks around. "Right. Well. I think that's everything, once we clear out the safe. We pulled everything out of the back room last night, Phoebe. And you've cleared out the Curio?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "All of my stuff is out of there. Bart and I made sure of it last night. I'll add an additional warding to the front door before I go back to Gotham. I'm going to be splitting time between Tim's and Zee's and I'm going to have to try and make a bigger library. All mybooks are still... in storage." she frowns, and she picks up her leather book, and tucks it into her bag.

    "... Caitlin will be fine. She's... got a lot of Faith. It's one of her strongest qualities." Phoebe explains, and then she picks up her backpack and helmet.

    "I'm going to shut down the First Aid Kit next door and I'll grab my remaining boxes of crap to sort."

    And with that, Phoebe disappears out the door, past the chalk warding on it and ducking beneath the Keep Out tape.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane harumphs at the showmanship, shaking his head as he follows the example of Phoebe. He doesn't see where he has much to weigh in on at this point in things.

With that in mind, he starts to the exit, heavy footsteps heralding his departure as he offers in passing,"You know where to reach me, Sims. I'll be checking in periodically."

He really doesn't have any trouble mooving in all that armor as he effortlessly ducks the tape on his way out, unstrapping Aragorn to lead him forth from the door.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Blind faith is what got us into this mess in the first place," Jon mutters, and sighs. He has a bad, /bad/ feeling about Caitlin Fairchild, if for no other reason than her insistence that angels cannot /possibly/ be bad feels a lot like everything Chas was saying, not long ago.

    Chas, who's now up in Heaven, and who knows how they'll get him back.

    With Phoebe leaving, he gestures to Dane and Charlie. "Time to go," he says. He checks to be sure everything's cleared out of the safe and then gestures the others on out. He'll give Phoebe the boxes from his car and then string the red tape around the perimeter of the building just to be certain fewer people get near to test the wards.