9722/They Live In Tunnels

They Live In Tunnels
Date of Scene:	19 January 2022
Location:	Downtown Manhattan
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Atrun Rai, Johnny Storm

---

Atrun Rai has posed:
    Angels stalk the skies over Manhattan. People are either gone from the city or are holed up in shelters or out of sight - at least, most folks are. Some are predatory, thieves and murderers, or just plain looters and people scavenging for supplies in a city that, for being shut down just a very short time, might as well have been left for dead a long time ago. It's a sort of emptiness that goes beyond a lack of people something you feel in the buildings, the streets. The air. A certain lack of hope.

    At least, that's how it is in some places. It certainly is the case here. Down by City Hall, a man walks quietly though the empty streets, dressed in what might be a black clerical cassock, or might be some form of foreign clothing - it's so hard to tell. As it is hard to tell where he's from, other than looking vaguely Mediterranean and with a beard in a style that was popular perhaps five thousand years ago. Hipsters will go anywhere for their fashion cues. But he walks, strolling down the street itself as if it were a park, unworried, smiling. Smiling. Amid all of this. In the shadow of potential annihilation of all the universe.

Johnny Storm has posed:
A column of flame zippered open the sky as it descended, buffeting the empty street with an inverted mushroom that disappaited to reveal a flickering form; a man in a Fantastic Four uniform. Half descent, half fall, the man took steadily back to his feet shaking off the lingering golden essence of Angelic energy from a recent attack. "Its dangerous here, I can get you to safety." he offered Atrun-Rai, but even as he spoke he realized he was warning someone who might not need it, and he seemed to withdraw slightly in a moment of guarded silence. "Who are you?"

Atrun Rai has posed:
    The flames get his attention, though Atrun-Rai does not /quite/ yet react; he regards the man who steps out of the column thouhtfully. "Be at peace," says Atrun-Rai, his voice a resonant, calm baritone. The smile never fades. "Atrun-Rai speaks to you. I am quite safe, I assure you." Which could mean...so many things. After all, do angels not open conversations with 'Be not afraid'?

Johnny Storm has posed:
"Better to offer and not be needed..." Storm explained, leaving the alternative unspoken to linger in the air between them. "Are you looking for trouble? Because there's plenty here." he said frankly, waving a hand to offer in mock grandeur. He burned all over, a cloak of flame docile enough to be clothing as the moment soothed his previously agitated state.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Indeed," replies the dusky-skinned fellow with a nod. "And worry not there, my friend, I am here to help, as well -- but the defenders of this city make good progress against the Host. My attention is elsehere." He makes his own gesture, flameless and long-fingered, to a sign pointing toward the entrance to City Hall's subway station. All hail the Lexington Avenue line. It's a museum now, though. Long snice shut down. So...?

Johnny Storm has posed:
"Something's going down." the Human Torch intuited, "Something we can't see with all the heavenly distraction? You know something, don't you?" he glanced in the direction indicated and moved a little closer. He returned his attention to Atrun-Rai, his gaze was pregnant with expectation.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Let us say that not all sorcerors on this planet are busy fighting angels at the moment." A nod, then, toward the Transit Museum. "You are welcome to accompany me if you like, famous Johnny Storm. But...perhaps your flames might prove a bit dangerous for the antiquities which we will pass until the moment of truth." The mysterious fellow sets off, gesturing as he walks past Johnny. "Come, if you like. I will explain as we go."