9331/Whispering Devils

Whispering Devils
Date of Scene:	28 December 2021
Location:	Bronx
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Atrun Rai, Johnny Blaze

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Atrun Rai has posed:
    There are many little deaths that take place in the margins of this city. Addiction, murder, disappearances with quiet, tragic ends that go long before revelation, if at all. The Bronx sees a lot of these, but they are not, at all, natural. That is to say, not....normal.

    Quiet deaths tend to be the least natural of all.

    Walking the streets of the borough, he traces the smell of that death, that strangeness. Like a black rope in the corner of vision, one that is able to be followed. This one he picked up while on tonight's walkabout; the thin cables of entropy are laced with magic, with something akin to shadow, but of essence. Dark creatures are about.

    So, he follows. Reality must be preserved.

Johnny Blaze has posed:
No death is little.

No death is insignificant. Not to Johnny Blaze. Not to Zarathos. Not to the Ghost Rider. The Bronx is a rough town, one that has held the unforunate in its grasp for so long, sometimes tight enough to suffocate those who find comfort in her care. Yet, even still, something pings at Johnny's senses. Something dark.

Something evil.

Malevolent, malignant. It lurks in the darkness just waiting for one or many to discover it. Its calling. Its whispering.

It needs to be found.

So, Atrun-Rai may find himself joined (coincidentally or no) by one Johnny Blaze. Dressed in his leathers, JOhnny moves through the alleyways and street corners, slowly reaching for the shotgun that rested on his back as it began to smoke with brimstone.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    Coincidence, of course. Atrun-Rai takes many walks since he returned to life on this plane, and he knows none well enough to invite them along on whatever strangeness he's gotten into. So, as the Atlantean sorceror turns a corner and enters an alley between a bakery and an abandoned shopfront, he finds at the other end of it the man in cycle leathers that he last saw at the gates of the Silver City.

    It is not expected.

    He stands at the other end for a long moment, as if considering something - and then approaches, lifting a hand in hail. "Hello," the sorceror offers, smiling broadly. Always friendly. "Come hunting, have you?"

Johnny Blaze has posed:
Johnny comes to a stop when he sees the Atlantean sorcerer at the other end of the alleyway. Johnny cocks his shotgun a moment as he starts to approach, letting the weapon hang at his side. He steps closer until he's close enough that Atrun can see his face clearly, and JOhnny couldn't help but offer a smirk. "Hey there. Atrun-Rai, right?" JOhnny has a pretty good memory. Not photographic, but good enough.

"Hunting with the intention to catch. You? Find something to tickle your third eye?" He questions Atrun, apparently decently aware that the third eye (or the All-seeing eye) assists in seeing the supernatural and through illusions.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    His smile fades a bit at that. "Capture? Such things cannot be allowed to exist on this plane, sir. Reality must be preserved." He looks past Johnny, then around the alley, lined with pipes and refuse and trash bins as it is. The bones of a city, draped in shadow. "It's here. Somewhere. Do you hear it?"

    Whispering, yes. Above the noise of the city, sinking into the mind, the blood. The bones. Indecipherable, but malice in every terrible sound.

Johnny Blaze has posed:
"No. Not capture. Catch and destroy." Johnny replies then to Atrun. "I'm not here to preserve reality, I'm just here to make sure the innocent are avenged." Johnny adds, though he starts to narrow his eyes and his head turns off to the side. He can sense it.

He can feel it.

Beneath and beyond the bones of this city, the Rider within is starting to writhe and broil. It's close. It's here. Not a person though...not a demon.

"A spirit is close by. It may have taken human flesh in possession."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "That would be why I am here." He gestures to himself, grinning faintly once more. "It might have been forty-four thousand years since last I lived, but I was once a rather skilled exorcist." The whispers trail, like slime...somewhere....

    "Ah." The sorceror looks up. "It's on the rooftop. Fire escape, or can you fly?"