926/Devil's Moon

Devil's Moon
Date of Scene:	01 April 2020
Location:	Four Freedoms Plaza - Midtown
Synopsis:	Cheetah plots the downfall of Olympus!
Cast of Characters:	Alexander Aaron, Barbara-Ann Minerva

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Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Silvery moonlight is a rarity in the city. With so much light pollution across the island the stars were ever absent, and the gleam of the moon hardly ever seen beyond a small halo around it. But when the lights flickered across the square, when the university's power supply wavered and the illumination in the handful of street blocks around the school flickered and died, it at the least allowed the moon's shine to touch a few people who hadn't felt it in ages. Harmless to some, but a herald of grim portent to others.
    Alexander Aaron's footsteps hurried, changing from a casual stroll to a rush of motion. With some of the things that had passed recently it was ever a dangerous time to be alone. To be in a place that lost connections to the modern world for in those small cracks between light and dark, the places where the world relaxes its grip on the mundane, that is where Hades can exercise his power.
    And tonight it was so. The shadows in the street grew long with the aid of that moonlight, as the quiet murmurs of the creatures rose, rising as if those voices were ever present, becoming more manifest as the shapes in the dark took more shape. And the whispers all seemed to say one thing to the blond youth there alone on the side street.
    << We are here to serve. >>

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
It *is* a dangerous time to be alone: you never know who's out there. Like Barbara-Ann Minerva, for instance. For her, the sudden dearth of street lighting is little more than a mild inconvenience. Even when in her human guise, as now, her night vision is superb. Further, she has little reason to fear the dark; being near the top of the food chain has its advantages. No, these things were minor trifles. The sudden loss of cell phone service, though? CAT-ASTROPHIC!

From the low-rising concrete wall where she's sitting, Minerva lets out an annoyed sigh -- the only kind she knows -- and smacks her phone. She had been right in the middle of some online shopping when the screen distorted, fuzzed out, and finally went dark. All this at exactly the moment the lights went out. Weird.

Barbara-Ann doesn't appear to have made the connection and is busily trying to strangle her device. Because that's how you fix electronics. Obviously.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Despite the efforts of man and god, Fate often takes a hand in things such as this. The power loss at the moment when two figures pass nearby, their fates already marginally entwined only now with the power outage and the rise of shadows near, the threads are woven closer and when she looks up she might see down that side street a flash of light to create a tableau that might seem out of the ordinary for even an individual such as herself.
    A bright silvery flame seems to flicker around the silhouette of a youth standing some distance away. A red-bladed sword held in his hand as around him a number of the shadows move and reel from that fire. Dark figures roughly in the shape of a biped, though their limbs writhe and reach, flashes of bone and ichor can be seen as at points their skeletal structure, such as it is, becomes visible.
    Then there is the eerie voice...
    << We will serve. Accept us. Or we take. >>

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
    The small hairs on the back of Minerva's neck spring to life and her green eyes abandon the empty abyss of her phone's black screen. The flickering light catches her attention instantly. From her perch, Minerva can make out the young man and his rather foul looking 'companions.' The sepulchral voice reaches her clearly and makes her bones rattle. Recent experience has made her well acquainted with the supernatural.

    Barbara-Ann makes no attempt to move or otherwise assist the human figure though it would seem obvious she would have more common cause with him than with the creatures surrounding him. For now, she watches. And waits. Curiosity? Meet cat.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Hard to tell much about the tow-headed youth. The way he stands is perfect and precise, if she had knowledge of such things. The stance with the blade easily held as if the purity of the muscle memory was a long well-worn thing in his mind. The clothes he wears are a little over-sized, the t-shirt flapping a bit with the breeze through that side street, the jeans a little loose.
    Above in the windows there are some others that ascribe to the felinian school of investigation until they see the monstrosities below and then the lights in their brownstones flicker off.
    But it's down on the street where the young man keeps the creatures' focus as they advance forward. His voice lifting, "Tell my uncle to back off with this crap. I don't want your service!"
    << Then must take. >>
    The creatures start to move forward, long tendrils lashing out. The blade flashes and flares as the fight begins.

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
    Minerva positively bubbles with a subdued coo of saucy glee and she wiggles slightly in her place. This spectacle has everything: a beautiful man, family drama, violence! Did we mention violence? Things could only get more interesting if this far-off Adonis is fabulously wealthy. The rebellious phone in her grip is all but forgotten and she cranes her torso to the left in a bid to get a better look. The cool, night air brings the general scent of unwholsomeness wafting from the creatures to her sensitive nose. For the moment, this is not much of a disincentive.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    It is a rush of motion, the blur of creatures slithering and sliding to the attack, any semblance of humanity is lost as they contort to send hurled pseudopods at the youth. Their whispers growing louder and the sussurus of the noise resonating off of the walls of the buildings near.
    It's matched with the relative silence from the youth. The way he moves precise and controlled, no wasted motion with so many attackers. His stance held in check for as long as possible, crimson blade in hand setting the creatures on fire each time the two meet. No ring of steel on bone, each time the weapon slices through cleanly. But there is the occasional pat-pat-tap of his feet when he now moves, leaping to the side, avoiding the strikes.
    It takes two minutes for him. Two minutes before the blade is thrust down into the 'head' of the last of the shadows, its voice still whispering entreaties in ancient Greek, trying to murmur softly.
    << We only wished to serve you, Lord Hades... pleeeeasse. >>
    And then the darkness fades away.
    As quick as that the power flickers back on, street lamps flashing into their brilliance, providing those halos of light. And the moon's light seems to recede subtly.

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
    In the near-distance, one might hear the clatter of a phone hitting the pavement. A pity, it had just returned to life. Hades? HADES?!? Well, why didn't you say so? Fortunately, (?) Minerva is fluent in many ancient languages -- ancient Greek among them. A hop, skip, and a jump later and Barbara-Ann is crossing the empty street toward the scene of the now concluded contest.     

"Are you all right?" By now Barbara-Ann is closing the gap between her and Alex. "I tried to call the police but my phone stopped working!" How brave she is! With her red hair and youthful face coming into sharper focus as she nears, she might easily be mistaken for a Thracian maiden greeting the conquering hero. No seeds planted for a favorable bias there, at all...

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The sword had come up at the sound of her voice, blade's point easing outwards and angling a bit in her direction. But when she approaches so openly and quickly after such an event he seems a little surprised, and perhaps a touch curious. The way one eyebrow lifts up, and then his features twist a little. At first there's some trepidation as he looks around, perhaps making sure they're clear. Then there's another shimmer of that silver flame around his hand as the blade flickers and fades out of existence.
    And as quickly as that he seems... entirely normal. Sure there's that handsome curve to his features, and the curiously eerie hazel eyes. But at a glance he'd seem like just a normal teenager of a sort.
    Usually he isn't beset upon by people who witness his weirdness, so this is perhaps new to him. He lifts a hand to the back of his neck, looking around, then back to her and he says. "Oh yeah. Nah. I'm... okay." She can likely imagine his inner monologue running, trying to come up with some excuse. To deny all the crazy. But... there really isn't a viable lie that springs forth.
    "Hi." He decides on, "I'm Alex."

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
     Alex's youth is processed quickly as is the absence of any lame efforts on his part to hide the obvious. So, he's quick on his feet and open. Duly noted. Events would suggest he's far from a normal teen. Just how far is yet to be determined but, like any good predator, Barbara-Ann Minerva -- the Cheetah -- is patient.

     Minerva extends her hand to Alex without hesitation, "Barbara-Ann." She peers around quickly as though suddenly realizing the potential danger she's so selflessly (*cough*) put herself in. "Who were those guys? Are they gone? Are you sure you're okay?" Gosh, so much concern! So much civic-mindedness!

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    There are aspects to Alexander that often whisper to him, tell him to be wary, rile him up against those around him. Small hints of voices in his thoughts that perhaps are relics of the past or other beings that have worn the mantle he now wears. Those voices now are offering words of warning about the woman before him, telling him tales of doom and gloom that are likely to befall him if he accepts that hand, allows this to go on beyond the norm.
    And Alexander deals them as he often does, by ignoring them completely and doing the opposite of what they wish.
    "Barbara-Ann." He accepts her hand and his grip is firm, very warm for some reason. And with them standing so close she can feel the subtle heat from him so near. There's a scent to him almost of ozone and steel and blood as well as masculine exertion. But it's perhaps those pale blue irises that change to a jade green in the depths that might be the most disconcerting.
    "I'm fine. It was..." He looks to the side, always disliking to tell a lie, and so he settles on its cousin the half-truth. "A magical thing. Family. An old curse." Which, to be air, it sort of was. From a certain point of view.

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
    Any lingering trace of those small voices in Alex's head are shooed away by the crescent, half-smile slowly taking hold of Minerva's red lips as her hand is received. She knits her brow, "Oh. Well, families are...complicated?" She offers this in a manner carefully manufactured to suggest she has no idea about any of this but wants to help regardless. It's a tour de force of deception built on years -- years! -- of practice.

     Minerva's nostrils register the scents of physical exertion. She notes, too, the tell-tale physical signs of a half-truth and the change in eye color from blue to green. Fascinating. She gives no outward indication that any of these phenomena have been carefully catalogued. "Do you...I mean, should we get you to a hospital or something? Or a church to ward off the, uh..." Barbara-Ann waves a hand indistinctly in the air to indicate Alex's now vanished playmates. At that moment the absurdity of the situation seems to finally take hold and a girlish giggle makes itself known. She nods to Alex's dominant sword hand, "Maybe we should book you a flight back to Dagobah?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    A small smirk flirts with the corners of his mouth as he then shoots a sidelong glance at her. Oh she's attractive, that much is clear, and there is something intriguing about that smile. And him, she might be able to discern the way he dresses, the over-sized clothes, meant to deceive at casual glance. For when he lifts an arm to run a hand along the line of his jaw thoughtfully, she can see the subtle firmness of a well-developed bicep, the occasional fall of the t-shirt offering insight into what could well be a muscular physique hidden from view. But she can likely tell with the subtle change to his scent that when she gives him a bit of grief it causes him to smile a little more sincerely than normal, but then he shakes his head and looks away.
    "M'fine." He finally offers, hazel eyes slipping back to her as he only then seems to see her for the first time. A few steps carry him to the bus stop bench seat that's along the sidewalk where he had earlier ditched his backpack. Only now reclaiming it to swing it back up on his shoulder.
    Around them other people start to stick their heads out of windows, to look down on what passed and seeing naught save the youth and the beautiful woman. He lifts his chin, "Instead of Dagobah how about we grab some coffee?" And as he says that he starts to step away down the street, hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans.

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
    Minerva's keen eye spots her discarded phone lying forlorn on the pavement just across the street. She raises a finger and turns her head ostentatiously to look over at it thereby giving Alex ample opportunity to follow her train of thought. Red tresses slide across her face as she turns back to her companion, "You're buying, Captain Kirk." She smiles warmly and her expression has a certain 'oh, I can't wait to hear *THIS* story' quality to it. The raised finger now pokes Alex lightly in the chest. A second later he can feel the whole of her warm hand through his shirt. This is done casually and with no obvious premeditation. Muscular physique confirmed.

     Minerva darts across the street to retrieve her phone. In her excitement she doesn't bother to check for traffic. Luckily, there isn't any. In a moment she's back at Alex's side and the two are walking rather aimlessly down the sidewalk. "So, tell me about this complicated family of yours..."