9512/Path of Glory: All You Who Are Weary And Burdened

Path of Glory: All You Who Are Weary And Burdened
Date of Scene:	06 January 2022
Location:	Midtown
Synopsis:	The forces of mortalkind retreat to the Grand Central bunker. The Witchblade gets calmed down, people are healed, and disagreements are had. Hopefully, they can rally together and strike back against the armies of the Host.
Cast of Characters:	Michael Erickson, John Constantine, Jonathan Sims, Johnny Blaze, Sara Pezzini, Cael Becker, Lydia Dietrich, Martin Blackwood
Tinyplot:	Path of Glory

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Michael Erickson has posed:
    Grand Central Station, beautiful Beaux Arts jewel of Midtown, has been reduced to a bunker. Covered with meticulously-welded plates of thick steel, corrugated metal, I-beams and other material either salvaged or otherwise liberated from the city's vast wealth of construction sites. Barricades of barbed wire and chain link have been otherwise set up around the area, and for the militarily inclined the layout of the building's new shell are a maze of murder holes, sniper points and other aspects of impending death. A military mind went toward assembling it, and not one terribly bent toward being merciful to those who might try and assault it.

    Standing atop it, where the terminal's clock has been covered up with plate, the mostly silhouetted figure of the Red Sentinel, the alien raptor made from red chrome, stands like a gargoyle - or, perhaps, a guardian angel of a different sort - watching over the influx of pedestrian traffic to the station's heavily reinforced front doors. Within, terrified survivors fill seats or cluster in offices converted into impromptu bunkrooms. But regardless of the terror these people might feel, the sight of this apparent bastion, SHIELD agents and the metallic figure looking down from on high is of at least /some/ comfort. Something's in control. Somebody superpowered, at least, is there.

John Constantine has posed:
Constantine comes wandering down Park Avenue, looking around him at the destruction and chaos. He carries a shopping bags in both hands, undone coat fluttering out behind him as he walks. The bags themselves appear stuffed with all manner of things from bottles of booze to jewelry to books and the occasional smartphone.

"Oi!" he calls up to the red chrome figure on the roof, standing on the bridge over Pershing Square, "Can I come in or is it only for cosplayers?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    There's an influx of SHIELD agents just after dawn, a stream coming in from the initial battle against the angelic vanguard. Some of the agents are upright, some carried on stretchers. Some are in body bags. And so, too, are the civilians and lower-powered heroes that had gathered to face Michael's initial assault--some walking, some needing aid, some dead. They did not come out of this battle unscathed, and what is happening here is a tactical retreat.

    Jonathan Sims is carried in by medics, on a stretcher, the apparent extent of the injuries that caused his unconsciousness hard to say with his SHIELD tactical gear on. There's blood spreading slowly on his torso, though, and surely someone who was there can explain what happened. Hey, at least he's alive, right? Alive means 'able to be healed' in one fashion or another.

Johnny Blaze has posed:
A portal opens up to Grand Central, where multiple known and unknown heroes make it through the portal. Of the last ones to arrive?

Comes sailing through a woman clothed in metal blades and looking madder than a hatter, seemingly restrained in black iron chains, nearly unbreakable and an absolute bitch to be stuck in. Following her is a being wreathed in hellfire and flame, holding the other end of the chain around his arm as he steps through the portal, which closes behind him.

There's the steady breathing of the Ghost Rider as he wrestles and drags the Wtichblade into a corner where he can calm it down and give Pezzini control again. No small task, no mean feat. The Ghost Rider doesn't even look at Constantine, but it does shed a glance to Sims. Gotta have to try to fix him after he handles what might be a threat first.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    << CONVENTION'S OPEN. >> The voice that trickles down to Constantine is a metallic rendition of a man's baritone, metallic and horrible thanks to the fact every battlesuit ever seems to need a menacing vocoder. << I'D SAY DON'T CAUSE TROUBLE, BUT I'M STICKING TO ONE LOST CAUSE AT A TIME. >> The Red Sentinel, it appears, is not without humor. It leaps off the top of the structure and joins the throng entering the terminal, inspecting people as it walks along with the angled v-shaped visor set into its helmet. Quiet after that, now. Busy soaking up data.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
The screams that emit from The Witchblade are in a language long forgotten, perhaps not even of this world. He had been prepared to kill every angel that stood back up, to bathe in their blood, and then the Ghost Rider used his chain. He hadn't expected that, they were allies were they not? They should be destroying the enemy together and yet he turned on the Witchblade and now had him wrapped in that damned chain. It didn't hurt, hell fire didn't hurt him or his wielder, but damn it was annoying to be unable to really move.

"Release me!" He finally bellows in English, the voice clearly not Sara's, as the flaming red eyes behind the mask of the helmet aimed at the Ghost Rider. Allies... bah, Sara was wrong about this one!

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael is walking beside Jon's stretcher, and she looks rather worse for wear herself - with blood trickling from both of her ears, and a distinct limp to her step. For a moment she seems to stumble - maybe she's overly tired? - but she catches herself with Jon's staff which she's had to carry from the field of battle. Her gaze flicks around more than usual as she takes in everything she can see, not having her hearing to warn her of danger for the moment - and periodically she'll murmur a reassurance meant for the ears of the unconscious man beside her. "I'm sure they'll have some of our best doctors here, Jon. It'll be fine."
    She seems intent on following Jon - that is until she sees the image of a fire-wreathed skull, with chains wrapped around her roommate, wrestling with her. "What in the hell?!" she exclaims, moving away from Jon to stand between Sara and the Ghost Rider, hold a staff that is too long to be ideal for her - but it's what she's got to hand at the moment. "Let her go," she growls out.

John Constantine has posed:
"Good, good," John says, waving a hand as he enters through the door and comes across the stream of people. He finds Jon first, moving to walk alongside him though not doing anything to help him walk or keep him supported.

"You look like shite warmed up. Figurin' it didn't go splendidly? Well, can't say we didn't try, Chosen One. Here. Gift from Uncle John."

He reaches over to hand a flask-sized glass bottle of bourbon to Jon, before looking up and in the direction of the Witchblade.

"Oh, come off it, you daft haunted bracelet. This is a tactical retreat. We withdraw and advance later, or summin' like that. Bring Pez back for a minute so she can use her first aid training and keep Jon's fuckin' guts on the inside."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks his eyes open enough to see the bottle of bourbon offered, as the medics set his stretcher down and Cael moves off to try to protect Sara from Johnny.

    "Wh... John? Thought you left." He frowns and reaches out to take the bottle with a blood-slicked hand. "Mmm. Didn't go so well, no. Gonna have to... rethink."

    Ow. Breathing's hard. And sitting up is a bad idea, because it's moving around that got his ribs messed up already--so he doesn't. Stays /right/ where he is. He peers over toward the commotion surrounding the Witchblade.

    "Ah," he says, in a tone that is utterly unsurprised. Narrows his gaze. Wait, is that... Cael? With his staff?

Johnny Blaze has posed:
Ghost Rider continues to drag Pezzini until he finds a good spot to start wrapping her against a wall or something to keep the Witchblade there. Witchblade hasn't seen -real- Hellfire until the Ghost Rider starts applying it. Thankfully, and fortunately, the Witchblade's immunity is not put to the test this day., though Ghost Rider's ability to further trap the Witchblade is interrutped by Cael, who threatens the Rider...

With a staff. One that looks al ittle too big for her. Ghost Rider doesn't seem to take notice of her, and only does so when he must. "Not her." The voice sounds as if it hails from the deepest pit of hell, where not even the staunchest of demons dare not go. In that voice was something else....something dark and evil, or maybe good. Ghost Rider doesn't seem too alarmed at the staff.

Instead, he will essentially attempt to wrap the chain around Pezzini, willing to move Cael first to do so if necessary.

"You will be released when you return control to Sara Pezzini."

The Ghost Rider speaks, a whisper on a foul wind.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Pinned against a corner, struggling against the chains wrapped around him, The Witchblade is pure fury. He would love nothing more than to test the theory discussed, the battle between the Ghost Rider and himself... and then he's called a daft haunted bracelet. Clearly the British man knew nothing about him, he was no spirit or ghost, he haunted nothing. It was an agreement between Pezzini and himself, and understanding, they shared the power and at times the body... but the words offered about tactical retreat, and backed up more so by the Ghost Rider, seem to at least get The Witchblade to start thinking.

Then he hears Cael... that voice he knows, he lives with that voice around him all the time, and the flaming eyes look toward Sara's roommate. It's not the staff, not the words of either Constantine or Ghost Rider that causes the change, it's the blood coming out of Cael's ears and on her body.

"For her," he breaths out, letting the anger slip back into the box it lived in. He would get his revenge, he would get his blood, but not at the cost of Cael. The flaming eyes fade away, that fiery eye opening on the back of the gauntlet again.

"Ow," Sara manages to mutter before shaking off the last effects of The Witchblade. "Christ, what did I miss?" She then asks, as she notes how she is still armored up and pinned by Ghost Rider.

John Constantine has posed:
"I'm still left," John answers, reaching down to pat Jon roughly on the shoulder, "Don't worry about it. There's always a Plan B in my experience. Or a C and D."

He remains alongside Jon's stretcher to look over towards the Witchblade. He shrugs his shoulders when things seem to go back to normal, placing his bag of goods on the stretcher along with the Archivist.

"Here. Party favours. Share them out. I'm off again."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Not her? What the fuck do you mean-" It doesn't even occur to Cael to be surprised that she can hear his voice in a world that is nothing but ringing and confusion, as she tries to hold the staff between the Ghost Rider and Sara, positioning herself to try to prevent him from chaining her further.
    She's off balance though - even dizzy, so as he tries to force his way past her, she stumbles, catching herself once more with the staff - as she heard the rest of what he has to say. "Wait- what? Is- the Witchblade is possessing her?" she asks. Rather than holding the staff as a defensive weapon, she's leaning on it now as she turns to study the Witchblade with uncertainty. //Had// she misunderstood the situation?

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon hurts like hell, but in this state it's even harder than usual to block out the swirl of emotions. Pain, fear, anger, despair. They lost the first battle, they're desperate, they're turning on each other. Plus, Cael's right in the middle of the scuffle over there around the Witchblade.

    "Stop," he tries, but he can't shout. Not enough air in his lungs. "/Stop/." No better; he coughs, and some more blood comes up. He really needs a healer.

    Then the tension starts to drain and he blinks slowly at his friend as he's patted on the shoulder. "Favours...? John, I... thank you," he manages. "Be... be careful. We could... use you. Can't just /fight/ this. Have to... /think/." He frowns. Is John even listening? "But just... be safe. 'Kay?"

Johnny Blaze has posed:
When the Witchblade seems to leave Sara, returning her to her own control, Johnny seems to be appeased by the situation. Even if he had to fight through Cael to get there. Suddenly, The Rider's skull seems to douse its own flames , revealing charred bone that seems to grow more white...and further, there's blood and muscle tissue and nerves being reconnected over the course of a few seconds, with Johnny's skin regrowing over that in addition to his hair and eyes.

Until The Ghost Rider looked as if he were Johnny Blaze, as if he had never transformed to begin with. In response, Johnny begins unwrapping the chain from Sara. "Witchblade possessed you after the fight, wanted to stay and fight the angels. I made a different call." Johnny tells Sara, removing the chain from her and lowering his hand to her.

Of course, his eyes turn towards Cael and later Jon. "We have to get you both some healing." Of course, Johnny doesn't have his spiritual voice anymore, so likely Cael may not be able to hear him.

John Constantine has posed:
"I am, by no one's account, a soldier, Jon lad. I don't do the big throwdown in the square. Just accept that I've got my ways, alright? And leave it at that because I don't much feel like explaining them."

He waves a hand in the air as he strolls away, lighting up a cigarette as he goes.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara takes the hand to get to her feet, offering Johnny a nod as she says, "Thank you. He..." she sighs, shaking her head. "Sometimes the anger is hard to beat back. Getting buried like that, me getting hurt... I've never felt that level of anger from him before."

Now that she's on her feet she's headed toward Cael to look her over. The blood from the ears makes it likely she's unable to hear, so without pause she lifts the gauntlet up and lays it lightly on the top of Cael's head. Only a moment, just enough to get the hearing back because that's when she see's Jon and breaths out a, "Holy shit."

Darting over to the stretcher, she knows Cael well enough to know that Jon will be first, that little bit of healing maybe enough but either way, her roommate and friend would be pissed if Jon didn't go first.

"You look like shit Sims," she comments as she lays the palm of the gauntlet on Jon's chest and let's the healing energy begin to flow. She hadn't used much in the fight, it had been physical, one little energy blast and then she was buried. "Can't have that, you need to get better now."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael watches the transformation from Ghost Rider back to Johnny with confusion - and a little rising nausea. She leans on the staff, lowering her head, and closing her eyes - and indeed missing everything that Johnny says.
    Okay. Concussion. She's pretty sure that's a concussion.
    Her head lifts abrubtly at the feel of a hand atop it, sending a momentary wave of dizziness through her - but she relaxes as she sees it's Sara. "I can't-" she starts, untils he realizes she's hearing her own voice, and then Sara's.
    "He was hurt bad," she admits, following Sara to Jon's side as quickly as she's able, sitting down beside the man - and setting the staff down between them.
    "Welcome back. You look like //complete shit//, Jon," she remarks, giving him a small smile.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
There should be more crows wheeling overhead at the site of the battle. The fact that there's only one is noteworthy for those who pay attention to that sort of thing. When it spirals down it's clear that it's much larger than a crow, and is in fact a raven of some size. Before it touches the ground, however, the form shimmers and shifts, and Lydia steps out onto the street.

Lydia has seen better days. Dried blood trickled out her ears, and lines of blood tears line her cheeks. Her hair is a frizzy mess, sticking out everywhere, and she looks drawn and haggard. The sweater that she had worn had been sliced open, showing skin slicked with blood.

"Thank God you're all still alive," she breathes. "I'm sorry I ran out like that. I... it was just too much. I wasn't prepared. The beast.... it took over and I fled."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon actually /smiles/ as his friend walks away. He has faith that Constantine will be doing /something/ to help. Maybe he shouldn't, but he does.

    Then Pezzini's there, and he coughs a few times, wincing as ribs get put back in place. He tries taking deep breaths, and once he's able to get one in, waves Sara off. "I can take it from here," he says. "There's others who don't have magic." He indicates some of the SHIELD agents on stretchers, being tended by medics.

    He slowly moves to sit up, smiling at Cael. "Yes, well... that's what happens when a literal Amazon decides to throw a /tire/ at you. Through in her defense, she probably thought I was trying to kill her."

    He grabs the bag left behind and peering through it. 'Party favours' indeed: there's booze, personal electronics, books, some painkillers, beta blockers, and antidepressants. A little jewellery. He shakes his head as he takes a mental catalogue of what might actually be useful.

    "The last thing we need is Witchblade running off after angels or abandoning you like he did Cleopatra, Sara," he says while he's going through the bag. "I appreciate the healing, but if you can't get him in line, we're not going to be able to rely on you. I don't care how old and powerful he is--if he can't be a team player, he's off the team."

    He looks up, sharply, dark eyes /very/ direct. "Am I clear?" There's a note of authority in his tone that's never been there before. Maybe getting himself knocked out changed something in him somewhere.

Johnny Blaze has posed:
Johnny helps Sara get back to her feet and he gives her a nod. "Believe me, probably better than anyone, I know." Johnny tells her wit ha smile and watches her go off to JOnathon's side. Meantime, Johnny checks his gear, wraps the chain around his person again and pokes at the new holes he's found in his clothing, likely from weapons and the like. Johnny's super durable, but his clothes?

Eh.

He gives a little nod to Cael, and watches as she goes to join Sara. He looks at Lydia. "Hey, don't sweat it. We managed to get out alive...most of us, anyway. It's scary shit. But we try and try again. It's what we do." Though Jonathon says something that rubs Johnny the wrong way. and Johnny approaches where Sims rested. "Jon." Johnny says his name with a bit of weight behind it. He rarely calls people by their first names flat out.

"We both know that would be a shitty idea. -Especially- now. The last thing we need is you kicking people off the team. Sara and Witchblade are a package deal. You should know better than most that we need -all hands on deck-, and distrust is gonna end us before we -really- start losing ground." He looks at the others.

"I'm going to see if there's anyone else I can grab from the danger zone. Call me if we're going to attack again." Johnny proceeds to walk away then in a huff. A pissed off Ghost Rider is the -last, last, and last- thing they need right now while they lick their wounds.

Johnny's faith has always been in people. Even if they have knives waiting for him.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Stepping back as Jon sits up, Sara just offer a single nod to him. There's no argument in her, nothing to argue about. She'd never felt Witchblade that angry before and she lost her handle on him. Now that she knew the level of rage he could reach, she would have a better handle on it, but she wasn't going to argue it. She felt something in the way Jon said it, and just left it without a comment.

Walking away to aid the SHIELD agents who were wounded, the same process is offered. She lays the gauntlet on their chest and let's the healing energies flow from Witchblade to the wounds. However many there are, she will move from one to the next, to the next, until she's exhausted, and then she'll keep going. Punishment to herself for losing control, for letting Witchblade get that upper hand.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Yeah, well, she was definitely trying to kill us. I don't like her," Cael mutters under her breath, anger underpinning her tone. She claims the bourbon, helping herself to a swig, as she listens to the dispute between Jon and Sara - an uncomfortable frown on her features at the tension between them.
    "It's more complicated than that," she answers Johnny warily. "I'm sure we'll... well, we'll figure it out," she insists. Because they have to - they //do// need everyone on deck for this.
    Her gaze follows Sara for a moment, as the woman moves around the room healing others. For her part, she leans back against the wall behind her, and watches the anxious looking vampire approaching them. "Not everyone made it through," she remarks. "And there were a few- ....close calls. But... yeah, we're still standing. Proverbially."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia nods to Cael. "I can see. I wish... I wish I wasn't such a coward. Maybe I could have saved some of them." She's silent for a moment, hugging herself. "Caitlin... isn't herself Cael. You of all people should know that. She's high off of the holy juice that Michael pumped into her."

She makes her way over to Jon and looks him over. "You look rough," she says.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs. "I'm not kicking anyone off the team. I'm..." He rubs at his face. "We are going to have to be working together to make this work. That means Witchblade, too. Everyone has to bend a little, gods know." Deep breath in. Deep breath out. He /can/ breathe. "We need to re-think our strategy. I'll send out a message about it, when my head isn't swimming. Deeeefinite concussion."

    "Speaking of." He turns to Cael and pulls a flashlight from his tac suit. "Let me check and make sure you're okay, and then I'll worry about me." The tenderness in his voice speaks louder than words, probably, to anyone around. Someone's got it /bad/.

    While he's checking to see how Cael's pupils dilate, flashing the light in her eyes, "It's alright, Lydia. I'm glad you're okay. Lord knows I was terrified, too. Do you think that'll happen again? Do we need to get you some training, or..." He chews on his lip, thoughtfully. "Or we can find non-combat duties for you, but I don't want you to think I don't trust you. I do, but you need to be in the right place. Martin isn't fighting because... well, because he /can't/ fight the angels because of his faith. He's been helping with evac, and then..." He looks around. Martin /ought/ to be around soon, especially given the fact that Jon was injured.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
There is a pause and Sara looks toward Jon. She heard it in his tone, and could see it on his face as he looked at her.

"I'm going to need some clothing or a blanket very soon," she comments to no one in particular then moves back toward Jon and Cael. "I've taken care of the injured agents, permit me to finish healing you now, Cael? Or Jon... or both of you for that matter? Then I'll find the rest of the minor wounded people and continue, after I get something to wear that is."

She looks toward Lydia for a moment, "I can help with some training if you'd like. Hand to hand, melee weapons, ranged weapons, your choice."

She's trying very hard not to look directly at Jon but in the end she does, "I once told you you can rely on me, and you can. I'll keep him controlled."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael goes from leaning her head back against the wall behind her with her eyes closed - to looking at Jon, prompted by the tenderness in his voice. Her expression is uncertain for a moment, before a small smile slips into place. A small nod is all the permission she gives - though she's almost immediately regretting it as the bright light in her eyes immediately results in a stabbing headache. "Ugh - yeah. We both have concussions, Jon. It was those damned pressure waves. Knocked me around too much... I'll be fine."
    Her attention shifts back to Lydia, a frown pulling at her lips before she offers, "I know what's affecting her - but I didn't try to //kill// anyone under his influence. She's still //choosing// the things she does - even if she is influenced. I don't like her."
    Her head goes back to resting against the wall as she answers Sara. "How much does healing take out of you? Will you still be ready to fight the next time we have to fight? Just wanna be sure we're using our resources wisely..."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
"I've /been/ training," Lydia says, frustration evident in her voice. "I /shouldn't/ have frozen like that. It's just... there was so many of them and between Michael and Caitlin..." She shakes her head. "I really don't have any excuse. I ran into a smaller pack of them which snapped me out of it. Was able to take a couple of them down before they called in reinforcements but they got me good in the process." She picks at her blood soaked sweater, but underneath there is unblemished pale white flesh. I healed, but... I'm hungry. I'm going to have to feed soon."


"Thank you for the offer, Sara," she says, her lips pressed into a grim line of determination. But, up in the Asteroid, I can ... tune my training to help me fight through this, so I'm not caught off guard again."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon looks over to Sara and nods. "I trust you. I do. I don't trust /him/. But I'm willing to listen to why I should, because some of it's... we need to be able to trust each other implicitly. I /know/ Cael has my back. I know you do. I need to know /he/ does." A pause, then, "Rest. If Martin's not already on his way I'm going to call him in a minute here, and he can heal too."

    He frowns at Cael. "I can take care of some of the swelling and bleeding outside your brain," he says. "If you like. If not... I'm going to have to maybe take that booze away from you." He smiles, but his eyes are worried. "You're not like the rest of us. Concussions can be /bad/. Let me help, or let Sara help. Please."

    He glances to Lydia. "You, too. I said I'd offer blood, and I meant it. At least a little, so you can manage. Martin doesn't really tire out on healing, he can help after." Oh, sure, he'll /love/ that.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Leave it to Cael to worry about that right now. Sara actually chuckles a little and offers the woman a smile. "The power all comes from Witchblade, his willingness to heal or not," she explains. "I know his limits and he's got a lot left in him, even after..." she leaves that there, a hint of aggravation showing through for a moment. "Anyway... we're fine. It would take a lot more to weaken him to the point of not being able to fight. Right now I can tell you he /wants/ to heal people, that's where he's aiming the remaining anger... it's like he's going 'you bastards, invade this world, I'll heal everyone like you did and they'll be ready for round 2'."

Blue eyes shift to Jon now, head tilting slightly. "I never did get to explain to you about him, at least not any real details," she says quietly, then accepts a set of sweats from a passing SHIELD agent. "Maybe that's where I should start, because you can trust him as much as you can trust me. The one and only reason I lost control was because I got hurt." There, she admitted it. She hadn't intended to even mention it, but perhaps in doing so, and explaining it, Jon might better understand.

"When Michael shield bashed me into the building, he broke several of my ribs and well... I've never been hurt like that before, so it was a first for me and for Witchblade with me." She has no modesty, at all, a crowded room of people and still when the armor unwinds from around her body, she doesn't give a damn. She just puts the sweats on, pulling the sleeve over the gauntlet and up to her elbow.

"What can we do to prove you can trust him Jon? You want a statement? You want to climb into my head to understand how it all works? I'm willing..." there is a pause here, her eyes seeming to glass over for a moment before the focus on Jon again. "He's willing."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Hey, I'm not opposed to feeling better," Cael remarks without opening her eyes, as she offers back the bourbon she'd kidnapped - after nothing more than a sip. Sometimes she just needs the taste in her mouth. "Just wanna make sure we're thinking logically, not emotionally." Because where did thinking emotionally get her, huh?
    ...well. Maybe not to such a bad place, hopefully, even if she'd handled everything so very, very badly.
    As Jon goes and just - offers his blood up to a vampire, casually, her jaw tenses for a moment - but she doesn't protest, or even move from her current position. She had to trust them. ...right? Even if she didn't like it.
    And she definitely didn't like it.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
"No," Lydia says steadfastly. "You're still recovering from the last time vampires took blood from you, Jon. I can smell it. I'll be fine until I can get back to the Asteroid." Her eyes wanders over to Cael, catching her reaction to Jon's offer. It's almost a challenge. Is this going to be a problem?

Breaking away she says, "Though I wouldn't be opposed if anybody else offered." Not that she expects anybody to step up.

"If nothing else, this has removed any remaining doubt that I may have had about deploying..." she shakes her head. "I don't know what we're calling it. I don't want to give too many details out here where the wrong people may hear it but let's just say it's big." She looks up in to the sky, "Very big. I'll tell you all about it when we regroup somewhere more private."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin comes up from somewhere deeper in the station. His expresiion is worried, almost stricken as he moves through the triage set ups and care stations. He spots the gathereing of those he recognizes and hurries over.

    "Oh my god, I just got the word. What... what happened?" he asks. His eyes fall on Jon and he notices the blood on him. "Jon!" he says, his voice shocked as he moves to stand near his spouse. He looks pretty tired, it's possible that they've been keeping him busy with said triage stations for some time as there is some blood, not his own, on his coat and shirt.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Later, Sara," Jon says wearily as he takes the bourbon back from Cael. "We can talk about it later. Lydia's right--if she thinks she shouldn't take any blood, then I'm in no state for climbing into anyone's head, nor taking a statement. What you healed was broken ribs and a punctured lung, and I have a concussion--and that's /not/ the first time I've ever been hurt so badly. Or at least... not the first time I've quite nearly died in the past few months."

    He swallows. "I /would/ be dead, if not for..." He puts a hand to his chest. "I need to thank her. Not that she'll care, I'm certain."

    He looks around the room. "Healing them won't take away the /memories/. People need to rest, and recover. /You/ need to rest and recover. And then we can talk about whatever this big idea is, because I think--"

    He stops, noticing Martin. Wearily climbs down off the stretcher that he'd been sitting on, laid on a bench, and wraps his arms around the shorter man. Buries his face in dark curls.

    "M'fine, love," he says. "Alive. Caitlin Fairchild threw a tire at me and rammed me into a building." And here he is, standing. "Punctured lung, broken ribs, probably other internal damage, concussion... Witchblade healed some of it. Cael has a concussion too."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Pulling up the other sleeve of the sweat shirt, Sara sticks her arm out toward Lydia. It was all the more offer she was going to make, but it was there if Lydia really needed blood. That conversation with Witchblade had been had already, once Sara learned that Lydia had become a vampire. He would protect Sara should Lydia lose control, but other wise he had no issues because Sara trusted this creature. Sure, it was a /long/ argument between the two, but sometimes Sara actually won.

Even as she stick her arm out to Lydia she is looking at Jon, a slight chuckle, "Didn't mean this moment, Jon. We all need the rest, then we'll talk." She offers Martin a nod as he appears, "I can offer up more healing if you're tired Martin, don't over extend yourself." Her eyes shift to Cael for just a moment then she looks to Lydia.

"He doesn't like it, but he's willing to let me do it," she states.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "You're okay now though - yeah, Sara?" Cael finally asks - she lifts her head to look at the other woman, which is just when Martin arrives, allowing her own stricken look to flit across her features. She quickly forces a more neutral and controled expression on her features and tilts her head back against the wall again, rather than watching Jon and Martin as they embraced.
    This is definitely not how she'd planned on running into Martin again, she can't help but think as her heart rate and blood pressure both spike, but since when have things been going how she'd //planned//? "I'm pretty sure it's a mild one," she offers as protest (or perhaps reassurance), as Jon reports on her own condition.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia looks surprised as Sara offers her arm to her. She wasn't expecting anybody to actually step up. Still, she /is/ hungry. Not dangerously so, but getting close.

"Thank you," she says to the woman and kneels down on one knee, taking the offered arm. Her fangs extend and she gently sinks them into the right spot on the wrist to get the blood flowing. Vampires can control how painful or pleasurable their bite is, and Lydia is cognizant enough to make it pleasant and warm, without going too far to make Sara weak in the knees.

Her eyes roll back up in her head as blood flows into her mouth. Every day she does this and she's always taken by just how /good/ it is to feel it slide down her throat and invigorate every fiber of her being. Nothing tastes as good as blood, and nothing ever will, and she will never get tired of this in her existence.

She doesn't take too much. Less than what she would normally take on a regular feeding. She takes just enough to top herself up and to get her through the rest of the evening. Once done, she licks at the wound to seal it up and catch the last tasty remnants of blood. Looking up at Sara she says, "Thank you," again.

Already she looks healthier. Her cheeks aren't so sallow, and her skin had taken a more lustrous shine to show off that otherworldly beauty that only vampires can achieve. She suddenly realizes that people are *staring* at her. She just fed in the middle of Grand Central Station's triage center where other patients and medics can watch.

"Um. Ahem." she says, clearing her throat in embarrassment. If she could blush she would be beet red right about now. "I just... um... needed to... you know... um..." She suddenly turns away from everybody and buries her head in her heads. "Somebody bury me and throw away the shovel."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin holds Jon for a moment longer than modesty allows before disengaging with the man. I was given a report but... you all look pretty terrible injuries healed or not." He waves a hand at Sara. "I can heal myself if it comes to it. It's fine. Just... watching people die under my care is never easy."

    He pauses and looks like he's concentrating on something else for a moment. "Let me get a proper look at you all..." He scans the gathered people with his magical senses. It's not The Sight, at least not so much that it gives him visual clues. It's more a sense of what is going on, a perception sure, but he doesn't like that magical senses is always referred to as visual when in his case it most certainly is not.

    His intense focus manages to fall on Lydia just as she's feeding on Sara and he jerks back a step. "Oh... oh... that's... well, I..." He blinks, his concentration shot, as the woman finishes. He frowns as the vampiress turns away and looks behind him at the stares from the other personel. "Yes. She's a vampire. She's on our side. I think we have bigger things to worry about don't we. As you were" he snaps at the onlookers. They jerk to and go back about their business.

    "It's quite alright..." he says back to the embarrassed vampire woman. "In other circumstances I'd likley want to talk to you about it, but... I think that can wait."

    He turns back to Cael. "Cael... be still" he says and reaches up to place his index and middle fingers at either temple. There is a light turquoise glow that surrounds his hands for a moment and the glow suffuses Cael's head before the energy seeps in. "You're not going to want to doing anything ridiculous for a day or so... but the worst of the damage is fixed. Bleeding and swelling have been repaired. Just... get some good food and some sleep and you should be alright."

    "Now... reports are fine and well, but they don't paint a true picture, what -happened-?" he asks sounding worried.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "We lost," Jon says, succinctly, and takes a swig from the bourbon. "Because we destroyed him, yes, but evidently /destroying/ him--or at least his avatar--actually heals the other angels, revives them even. So, that's a wash. There's going to wind up being /four billion/ of them. We need to change tactics."

    Another swig of bourbon. "Caitlin Fairchild's got a /ton/ of power now. She can fly, her normal power's boosted, the only thing that could even /touch/ her was negative energy. Atrun-Rai is... dead, maybe. Lord, I hope he's not gone for good. Caitlin threw a bloody /car/ at us--"

    Suddenly something in him just /breaks/ and he turns, to wrap his arms around Cael this time, to hide the fact that he's about to start crying from the people around to whom he's supposed to be a Champion or whatever. "I thought you were going to die," he whispers. "I didn't know if my shield could hold, and I thought..."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara closes her eyes, letting any sort of sign of what she feels be locked away. That was an advantage to being joined with The Witchblade, she could let him help wash away the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that started top rip through her. She most definitely kept a little of that sensation for herself, but the majority of it she let pass on so she could keep her wits. She was aware of where they were, and again her lack of morality regarding such things just let her offer up an arm that was excepted.

When Lydia steps back, she clears her throat a little and opens her eyes, looking over to Lydia as she collects herself. "Oh hey," she looks around, then steps over and lays left her hand on Lydia's shoulder lightly. "Don't worry yourself about all that Lydia, most of the people around here are already well aware and if they aren't, fuck em. You gotta be you."

Glancing now to Cael, she uses the gauntlet to tap herself in the ribs a few times, to show Cael she was fine. "I'm healed," she says as she taps. "It happened while the lights were on, but I wasn't home. I'm fine, I promise."

And then she goes silent, keeping a supporting hand on Lydia's shoulder but not wanting to interrupt the moment taking place. She looks away from Jon, Martin and Cael, a part of wondering just how that would all work out, knowing what she already knew. For now though, she would offer as much privacy as she could and keep other people from lingering and looking too long by gesturing them on their way with the gauntlet.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Lydia is spared Cael's usual brand of ascerbic humor - simply by virtue of the fact that Cael has too much going on to deal with. "I'm glad you're alright," she answers Sara - just before Martin tells her to hold still - which she obligingly does. As he releases his touch on her, she can feel the headache that Jon's light had awakened fading away - which is a relief. Her gaze meets Martin's as she searching his features for any hint of anger, or disapproval hidden there. "Thanks Bl- errr... Martin," she offers.
    And then Jon's arms are around her, and she stiffens in surprise, at being hugged so abruptly in such a public place. She puts one arm around Jon hesitantly, her gaze still locked on Martin (could this get anymore awkward?) "Well. Then we both wouldda been paste together, I guess - I'm just glad it didn't work out that way. I'm fine, Jon. Really. I mean, I can hear you now and everything."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia gives Martin a grateful look when she eventually turns back around. She missed the hug he had given Jon so she wonders who he is until she can pick out his scent amongst the myriad in this place. "You must be Martin," she says giving him a pleasant grin. "Jon has told me a bunch about you. I don't mind talking about what I am, but you're right. We should wait until things have died down a little bit."

When Sara rests her hand on her shoulder she gives her a warm smile. "Thank you," she says again. "For other vampires it's just eating but for me it's always been... intimate."

And then Jon is suddenly hugging Cael. This catches Lydia off guard. Her eyes flick from him to Cael to Martin to gauge their reactions. Her sensitive nose twitches, catching the scents coming off of the three and they paint a very clear picture. "Oh." is all she manages to say.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin watches as Cael and Jon embrace and... doesn't seem to mind. To Lydia he replies with a nod. "And you are Lydia if I'm not mistaken" he says with a friendly smile. "I've heard nothing but good about you from Jon. And that we have more in common than might be visually noticed."

    He returns his gaze to them all and sighs. "So... you killed him but it just won't stick. That's... mildly irritating" he mutters. His SHIELD training when dealing with alien beings (which sure Angels are a bit more than that) says that usually killing the alien is enough to stop tha threat.

    "But... you have a plan" he says looking amongst them.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon doesn't seem to care what anyone around thinks of him hugging Cael any more than he cared about what they'd think of him hugging Martin. He sobs, once, at 'woulda been paste together,' then takes a few deep breaths while people introduce each other. Finally, he clears his throat and steps back, looking down at Cael for a long moment, before nodding. Like only now is he /actually/ sure she's okay.

    Then he plops back down onto the stretcher and sighs. "Sorry. I just... this is a lot. We /lost/." He glances toward the body bags, eyes haunted. It's easy enough to guess--he feels responsible for those deaths.

    "We're going to keep fighting," he says. "Change tactics, come at this a different way. I've got... the beginnings of a plan. Just have to work through it. But... we all need rest, and food, and to come at this fresh when we're able."

    He picks up the bag Constantine left and holds it out to Martin. "Can you see this gets to one of the supply team? There's things in there that might be good for people. Medications, alcohol, entertainment options. Just... don't ask where it came from."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara offers Lydia a smile, understanding the embarrassment even if she doesn't share it, then her eyes shift to Jon.

"This isn't your fault," she states bluntly and firmly. "None of this, not the end result of it. It's not like any of us knew what would happen, or have any idea what the angelic host is out there doing right now... but Jon, you can't blame yourself for the loses. Every one of us went out there knowing we might not come back."

Taking a moment she looks at each person before once again her eyes settle on Jon, "Go back to the Triskelion, get something to eat, get some rest. No, I'm not going back out there, even though I'd love to know what they're doing. I intend to go back to the Triskelion myself, and try to sleep."

Cael Becker has posed:
    As Martin's gaze remains placid, Cael finally begins to relax a little. There's part of her that wants nothing more than to bury her face against Jon in return - but she can't completely forget just where she is, and how many eyes could be watching her.
    As Jon retreats back to his cot, Cael climbs to her feet at last. "I, uhh - I think I'll go take a look out post for a bit." Her gaze locks onto Sara, though, as she adds, "I'll head back to the Trisk and rest in a bit - promise."
    Her gaze locks back onto Jon again as she adds, "We'll figure this out," because they don't really have any other choice.
    Her gaze slides over to Martin next as she adds a bit awkwardly, "I guess we'll talk later. I-" No, Cael. This is neither the time nor the place for your self recriminations, so after a nod to Lydia, she turns to walk off.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia gives Martin a wide grin, "I'd give you the secret Jewish handshake, but Rabbi O'Toole never bothered to teach it to me."

She sees Jon getting down on himself and moves over to him to rest a friendly hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault. We should have been prepared for this," she says. "Myself included. We know that fighting them head on isn't the solution, so it's going to have to be less about winning and more about preventing as many losses as we can."

She looks around at all the injured people being treated, and those taking refuge in Grand Central Station. "What I'm saying is, don't be too hard on yourself." She falls silent and grimaces, "And I should probably take my own advice."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin gives Cael a nod in agreement. They will talk later. Once some dust has settled and one of them isn't recovering from the aftereffects of a concussion (healed or not better to have a clear head about things.) He looks back to the three remaining.

    He frowns at Lydia and Sara. "But... isn't it?" he asks. "I mean... maybe fault isn't the right word. But he's the General of the defense forces. Whether by his or by Michael's choice... the troops under his command are his responsibility. And... dismissing that isn't... right?"

    He holds up a placating hand to forestall any rebuttal. "I know I wasn't there. But still I just think that letting the leadership take responsibility for their actions is something that is, well... necessary for the war to have any actual meaning."

    He gives Jon a half frown. "And... if I'm out of line. I'm sorry. But it just seems... well... you know." Martin had something of a warrior poet's heart in him and war was something he actually took a rather deep dive into the history of, so his views while distanced might be rather pertinent from an academic point of view.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I'll call you," Jon calls after Cael. He frowns thoughtfully for a long moment, watching her walk away.

    Then he turns to look at Sara and Lydia. "Martin's right," he says, dark eyes hard, "it /is/ my responsibility. Who, exactly, should have prepared us for this, hmm? Me. This is on /me/. I am Gaea's Champion. I am one of the leaders of the Justice League Dark. I am the one that alerted SHIELD to this, and asked them to get involved. I am directly responsible for their being out there. And I am not going to dishonor their memories by refusing to take responsibility for my cock-ups."

    He rises. "Every person out there that dies is someone who did not have to die. It is my responsibility to minimize losses. That's what being a leader /means/. I /know/ that they go out there expecting to die, but do you think Chief Carter wouldn't mourn us if we died? Do you think she'd say 'oh well, that's not my fault, no way I could have known?' No. I know for a /fact/ that she wouldn't. I know for a /fact/ that she'd do everything she could, to be sure that her agents didn't die unnecessarily. I mis-judged Michael's forces. I went in without enough of a plan. I didn't ask Uriel the right questions, and I didn't work hard enough to get Lady Death on our side. That's on /me/. And I'm going to fix every one of those problems. I /guarantee/ you that there are people dead today who don't have to be, dead because I didn't do this right. Absolving myself of that just means I don't fix the damn problem."

    He takes a long, deep breath. "Everyone who died today has people who loved them, who are going to mourn them. I don't have to contact the families of the SHIELD agents--but I should probably look into it for the civilians who showed up. Because that's on me. That's what this /means/, to be what I am now. You make difficult decisions, that weigh on you, and you accept the consequences. I chose to focus on the wrong things, and people died for it. Now I'm going to fix that."

    He looks to Martin. "I'll need a list of the civilian dead," he says. "I'll contact their families after I get some food." He's clearly preparing to move further into the bunker.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara cants her head slightly. "I never said that you shouldn't take responsibility, but fault and responsibility are two different things. I'm saying it's not your fault, you didn't do it, but it is your responsibility." She shakes her head slightly, she tended to be too blunt, she knew that, and she knew the hardships of leadership all too well, it was why she rarely tried to lead anything.

"I'm going to go heal some more people," she finally states, deciding to just drop it. It was a long night, Jon had already laid into her once, nothing she said changed a damn thing and she was still mentally beating herself up over Witchblade taking over. She'd go wear herself out, it was better than being alone.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
"That's not what I... I mean..." Lydia shakes her head and takes a step back. "I'll just shut up now. I fucked up and I'm fucking up again. I write porny supernatural lesbian romance novels so I'm the /last/ person who should be giving any advice about war."

She takes another step back away from those who had more experience than her.. those who actually /stood up/ while she fled, and folds her arms. "Compassion and balance," she mutters. "Fat lot of good it does me."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin sighs as the two women close up. "It's..." he shakes his head. Discussing this so soon wouldn't do any good, especially with his perspective being apart from the rest of them.

    He nods to Jon. "I can get that for you. It's long, but... given what inital reports of the damages are... it could've been a lot worse."

    He moves along at Jon's side discussing the positives of the evac and the help that the bunker formerly known as Grand Central Station has done even on this first day of the war.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon eyes them both and sighs. "Thank you, Sara, for healing people. Lydia... if you'd like to stay and help, I'm sure we could use an extra pair of hands." He doesn't have it in him, right now, to be bolstering and inspiring. "If the both of you can think about ambush or stealth tactics we could use, I'd appreciate that."

    Then he turns away and walks with Martin further into the bunker--starting, actually, by asking what all it is that Erickson's done to fortify the place.