Owner	Pose
Phoebe Beacon	SMOKEY CREEK, KANSAS     It's... flat. Very flat. For miles and miles around between buildings and the odd tree planted in someone's yard there is fields of corn or wheat or just grass, waving in the breeze and waiting to become hay.     The portal opened from New York City brings our heroes to what appears to be a side street in downtown Smokey Creek, which is a loose collection of low one-story town buildings including a blue building marked 'TORNADO SHELTER', some single-wides and some small houses that look like they're in need of some repair.     A couple of old farm trucks rumble on the main street -- where there's a restaurant marked RESTAURANT (and in a little window sign, Phil's), and a two-story building simply marked BAR.     There is a playground at the blue building, attached to a little brick Elementary school that simply reads SMOKEY CREEK SCHOOL WELCOMES YOU.     Those who can sense magic can sense there is definitely magic that's been performed at the playground. It's light, simple stuff, leftover. There is the slight whift of light magic about the area, like a delicate perfume that brings about a hazy memory.     It's late, late afternoon in the summer. Someone calls their kid in for supper, and an old firebird rumbles its way along a dirt side-street to pull out to the main drag, roaring to life as it dumps gas into an engine in desperate need of repair.     So, what do our heroes do?
Dick Grayson	Nightwing looks around at what he can see of the town, and the very first thing that comes to mind also slips out before he can think about it. "I think they're going to notice us."     That gem of wisdom shared with the crowd, he looks to Zatanna and asks, "Can you get a specific location where she was, or do we just have to do it the old fashioned way and start searching?" Fortunately, several of the people here are experts in detective work, but they may not get a ton of help from the locals dressed the way they are.
Sara Pezzini	It was far easier for Sara to just be in the armor and carry back up clothing, it meant one less outfit ruined. Stepping through the portal, the life time New Yorker has a long moment of culture shock. Her entire life has been spent in the city, so this nice rural location really does melt her brain a little. "This is uh..." she looks around slowly, trying to find a nice word and settles on. "Quant." She glances over to Nightwing as she adds, "You think?" The information from Witchblade regarding the magic begins to filter in, whispers in her mind about the 'scent' in the wind, the draw to locations that might be stronger with residual magics. This leads her to start feeling for locations where it is stronger, once again oddly hoping that she'll be assaulted by Witchblade's Psychometry and given a vision of what occurred here that might have interested Phoebe. "Have trails of magic in the area," she offers as she takes a step away from the group. Zantanna might be better at identifying it all, but Witchblade has already started his nagging and he was hard to ignore.
Zatanna Zatara	Portaling across Kansas is the way to go. Once Zatanna and an erstwhile boyfriend decided to drive across the US. Kansas remains fixed in her mind as the singularly most boring part of the trip. Flat doesn't cover it when it is exciting to see a silo on the horizon. When she steps out of the portal's purple haze onto the playground, the wholesome difference between New York air and flat prairie air hits her. Then, looming over the playground is leftover magic, as tall and as riveting as a silo on unending flatness. The magician walks around the swing set, sweeping the area for other telltale 'scents' of magic. Zatanna nods and holds up a finger acknowledging Sara and shrugs, smiling at Nightwing, "We just might standout." She looks down at her skintight black pants tucked into boots. The tailored jacket might be a dead giveaway that she's not from around here. Then, with a meaningful glance at Meggan, she casts a spell, !cigam siht fo retsac eht dniF
Meggan Constantine	Meggan holds her hand to her brow, squinting into the dusty green sea behind what passes for a town. Farm country stretches off to the horizon in pretty much unbroken crops, and she states the obvious. "It's really big, innit?" The emotional hit from Phoebe's gear still leaves her riding low. Fuzzy grey depression wobbles around at the back of her mind, not fully stabilized against her general upbeat mood. Rubbing her palms on her jeans hopefully won't attract unwanted attention. She gives the restaurant and bar a fleeting once-over, nodding at the tired, friendly buildings. "We probably don't have to improvise too much. Figure we need to keep an eye out for a petrol station as a backup?" The taste of magic and the fragrance entices her and tugs her in the direction of the playground. That mirrors Sara following Witchblade's urgings, though in her case, it's more tracking after the homo magi and not venturing too far ahead or behind. "The air feels different here. Aqua over there, dry and quiet this way. It tastes like those fizzy blue ice-lollies." A roll of her shoulder tries to give a context and texture to something that defies easy explanation most of the time. "Could just be happy kids running around. Zee, what do you feel around here?"
Tim Drake	Once they're through the portal, Red Robin spins in a slow circle. Taking in the sights, for whatever value of "sights" Smokey Creek can offer.     "Yeah. Still feel as out of place as every other time I've visited Kansas," he confirms, muttering under his breath. And Zatanna's right, they do stand out. Too much. A Bat out of Gotham is one thing, but a Bat out of Gotham standing in the broad daylight? Tim's got the creepy crawlies from all this UV exposure.     If there's anyone he'd be willing to ignore the way his skin is itching, though, it's Phoebe. He trails behind the rest of the group as the mages direct them to the playground. It's the kind of public place that is a real terror to sweep for evidence, gravel and grass making small items disappear, and sticky fingerprints overlaying trace evidence. But Tim is still scanning to and fro with a tight, frenetic energy, just on this edge of controlled.     Anything. Any kind of clue. He can't cast spells like Zatanna or Meggan or scent magic like Sara can through Witchblade, but if there's something physical to find, Red Robin can locate it. He hopes.
Phoebe Beacon	Smokey Creek doesn't even have a creek. What kind of name is that for a town?     Another truck rumbles by on the main road, between a couple storage buildings and a closed small engine repair shop. A couple of windows open, and one kid pokes their head out to see what's going on, since a quintet of strangers just appeared in the street.     The playground holds more for the magic users; the energy emitted definitely fits Phoebe's brand of healing. Scraped knees and sprained wrists and rolled ankles healing quicker than normal. The sound of a guitar playing.     The tracking magic seems confused; Phoebe's own tattoo'd circle likely causing some havok with it, but makes a 'THIS WAY' sort of signal, widely showing the trail leading to the main street.     Red Robin spots something shiny, golden and metallic near one of the playground benches. It's a round tag that says 'I WANT TO GO HOME' -- and gives Phoebe's cell number.     The other side identifies the owner as IDU.     Another window opens, and someone leeaaans out, blinking in the light and looking very, very confused at everybody there. Then the white-haired man spits out some brown grossness from his mouth and calls out:     "You guys crash land?"
Dick Grayson	Nightwing is letting the others examine the playground, keeping an eye out around the group in case anything demonic should raise it's ugly head. Given that Phoebe is looking for the thing, there's always the possibility that it is here somewhere.     The chewing tobacco is pretty nasty, but not outright demonic, so it gets a pass.     "No, just looking for a friend that passed this way."     Since the old man apparently keeps an eye out on people passing by, he gives a description of Phoebe and Idu. "Any chance you saw her out here?"
Sara Pezzini	The real magical reveals are up to Zatanna and Meggan, for Sara it's more of a hunt and peck style of searching. Witchblade is capable of locking onto a specific sensation of magic and following it, but even he knew there was no need for that with Zatanna's tracking spells. It felt like Phoebe, that's the only thing that mattered really, it meant she was in fact here at some point. When the window opens and the older man leans out, spits chewing tobacco and speaks, Sara turns slightly to look his way. A few hundred New York snark responses come to mind, but thankfully she doesn't have to use any of them because Nightwing speaks back to him. Probably the best thing that could have happened in that moment. She might be a NYPD detective, but when armored up everything she did and said was influenced by Witchblade's personality as well. For now she will keep herself near to Zatanna and Meggan, as she could offer up energies if needed and Witchblade might be able to pick up on something.
Zatanna Zatara	When Zatanna uses magic near Meggan, it has a supercharging effect, like walking in a magnetic field of an electric turbine. Walking over the spot where Phoebe had cast, rose and pepper still lingers in the air along with the memory of a melody teasing the ear; the hair lifts on the back of the homo magi's neck. Not fear but recognition and underlying it a sense of urgency. Phoebe needs to be found now. The magician wavers, her head turning back and forth like a compass needle. Her arm lifts of its own volition, and she points down Main Street in the direction of the tired looking businesses, past Phil's and the two-story bar. The old man's voice, and Nightwing's answer breaks the reverie. She addresses the group, "The repair shop, maybe?"
Meggan Constantine	Zatanna's the one with the sharp skills to find precise magic and Meggan relies on a sense as old as touch and hearing. She rounds the weather-worn geometric structures on the playground. Tapping out the guitar rhythm embedded in the afterimages gives the others something to hear in a crude manifestation of an actually skilled player. Long fingers skate over wood and metal. "That's a good feeling. Warm and bright over here, so that gives me some hope some part of her is okay." That at least would be a nice thought to harbour against the fretting worry that builds up brick by experience-blasted brick. A wall they can't afford so much to have. "You wonder if her bike's in there, or they patch up things other than vehicles?" she asides quietly. While they review Main Street, she keeps an eye out for mature trees, maybe an oak or a solid hickory or sycamore holding against the years. Just in case they need a witness.
Tim Drake	Checking the benches is the best place to start. Maybe the swings, too, but Tim can't envision Phoebe having much interest in the play structures. He'll still look, but he strikes gold almost immediately.     Literal gold. Well, gold-plated, but whatever, it still counts. He doesn't return to the group to show what he's found, but as he holds Idu's tag in the palm of his hand, Red Robin continues his search.     And at the same time pulls up a number pad with the eye-tracking software in his mask so that he can silently dial in Phoebe's cell. Stupid, but he still tries to call. Or maybe the better word is just desperate.     Red Robin makes a quick sweep of the rest of the playground while the call is attempting to connect, and then returns to where the rest are gathered -- aside for Nightwing, who is questioning a possible eye witness. Wordlessly, Tim lifts his hand to show the dog tag off. He's quiet otherwise. Maybe holding his breath as if that will affect the call going through.
Phoebe Beacon	Correct, the chewing tobacco is foul but normal. The man scratches the side of his head a moment as he regards the five people who just arrived on the side street, and then seems to lean forward a bit more. "An' here I thought maybe you were here for the truck crash. Crazy that both of them got out without a scratch, considerin' Jeff was thrown through the windshield. Said a glowin' angel saved his life." he remarks, and then spits again. Gross.     "Well. That sounds roughly like Amy, more like her weird dog. Just moved here, what... week and a half, two weeks? Nice girl. Keeps to herself. Real quiet."     Hrrrrrk. PTOO. He opens a can and grabs another half-fistful, watching the Witchblade, Zatanna and Meggan with more than mild curiosity as they round the playground, and then looks back to Nightwing.     "Rents a room above the bar from Beauregard. Owns the building. An' the bar. Think she works for him from time to time." he recounts back to Nightwing. "... she in trouble? Seems to me like she arrived desperate ta get 'way from something, but if folks are comin' all the way from the East Coast out here? Heh." he grins. "Wife's gonna wanna know all the gossip."     The directional instruction narrows a bit. But just a bit. Mainstreet with its Restaurant and Bar.     The call rings twice, goes to voicemail.     "Hey, it's Peebs, why are you even calling? Can this be a text? Why *is* a raven like a writing desk?" Beeeep.     'This voicemailbox is full.'     Click.     The wind picks up, a little cooler. Dark clouds are coming from the west, a promise of rain and poor weather.
Dick Grayson	Nodding at the flow of information, Nightwing says, "Thank you. She's not in trouble that I know of, just left a little quick so we're checking on her."     With a friendly wave, he moves to rejoin the others. "Well, at least we've got a lead, though I'm not sure why she'd be renting a room and staying put unless she thinks she can find the demon around this area."     Noting Idu's tag in Tim's hand, he adds "Nice find. At least we now have physical as well as magical clues tying her to this place. Sounds like this bar is the next place we should take a look at."
Sara Pezzini	Even with Witchblade's influence lingering in Sara's mind, it doesn't stop her from using the entirety of her skill sets. She might not be able to stop a snarky comment, but she did notice the old man watching Zatanna, Meggan and herself, more like ogling really, certain parts of their bodies. < Keep doing what you're doing, > she says quietly into the Bat-comm that Batman gave her back during the angelic fights. < Following a... hunch. > His staring changes what Sara was doing. Instead of continuing to follow the wafts of magic, she turns straight on in the direction of the man, spreads her wings out on her back to block his view of Meggan and Zatanna, and pretends she's doing something all magical. There was something not right, it was more than just the way he was looking at them, she could feel it in her gut and so he was going to get the full on view of her wonderfully skimpy armored self as a test. The only way to get answers was to ask questions, and sometimes those questions were non-verbal.
Zatanna Zatara	Count on sleuthing and asking questions to fill in the details. "Good going, Nightwing. NOthing like small towns." Then, adding, with a faint moue, "Not the repair shop then." Zee looks up at the older man and throws him a jaunty salute then turns to Tim. "She didn't pick up, did she? Text her. She never liked me calling. I just hope she doesn't spook." Wings in the playground. Zee smiles at Sara outing just how strange they all are, at least in Kansas."Does the Witchblade feel her, too, Sara?" Zatanna, walking slowly in the direction of the bar, leaves the playground. As she passes Meggan, she brushes her upper arm lightly, knowing she will feel her question and worry. "Is she running or hiding?"
Meggan Constantine	Meggan wipes the back of her hand on her jeans. "Beautiful view. That's what it means, his name. That important?" Someone among the group is bound to pick up the soft question, translating names from French or skimming for details that might be remotely significant to someone. Witchblade's wide wings cast a formidable shadow that involuntarily have her look up at Sara's shielding act. Past that, their helpful old man polluting the street every time he spits chew. "Afraid he fancies you being soft on the eyes. Let's keep going cause I'm not standing here being someone's eye candy when a nice young lady is trying to keep a low profile." An involuntarily sidelong look to Dick and Tim, the experts on such stealthy matters, lengths as she sighs just a bit to Zatanna. Her shoulders slump a fraction. "John's always been better at this than me. Will you stop me bumping into any trucks or fences? That get's a spot weird. Let's see. Pepper and roses." The shapeshifting is subtle, mostly her pupils watered down more into those evergreen irises and sharp cheekbones more defined. Tracks woven through Smoky Creek might be strong and oily-diesel blends or faint impressions, but locking into what she wants takes a bit of time. The joys of tracking by non-standard ways, like talking to trees, send her caroming down what passes for a sidewalk at a surprisingly quick pace.
Tim Drake	"So she's here," Red Robin says to Nightwing, and his fingers curl around the dog tag. And they have a potential location, too.     His investigation means he's missed the interaction between the old man and everyone else, so behind his domino mask Tim's eyebrows go up. Way up, after Sara speaks up over the comms and then turns away. It's Meggan who clues him in, and he makes a noise in his throat. Very much an "ugh" sort of sound, because... yeah, gross. In more ways than one.     Texting via eye-tracking software is kind of a pain, but at least a pain that Tim is well-practiced at suffering through. Still, he's no more hopeful than he was with the phone call.     Everything else is left for someone else to handle. Right now Tim's brain has spun off into a million different directions, and he's silent as he contemplates what has brought Phoebe here, of all places.
Phoebe Beacon	The man at the window watches the playground a minute more, then gives a snort, and slams the window closed. The curtains are drawn. He was caught.     The music, the smell of pepper and roses, would lead those tracking the magic across the dirt side-road and to the main street. A headlight overhead ticks on, humming electrically as the sodium light warms, as if illustraiting the way.     The text does go through. Red Robin's domino picks up the signal of a suddenly activating phone, as if something had turned on, and wouldn't you know it?     The 'Find the Phone' app points him in the direction of the bar marked simply BAR.     There were stairs leading to the second floor on the outside, a way for the renters to make their way up to the tiny apartments above the bar.     And as they round a corner, there's a motorcycle with New Jersey plates, and a plain, matte helmet tethered to it. It's locked in place.     Into the bar, or up to the apartments?
Dick Grayson	"Well, that's a fairly good sign. Unless you were right about her making a duplicate and we've tracked that down." He looks around the group, trying to decide which of them would be best walking into a bar in Kansas, and realizing that really, all of them pretty much stand out for various reasons. "Ok, let's check the upstairs first, and if she's not there we can go be out of place in a Kansas bar."     Hopefully she's upstairs and they can avoid a cliche small town bar scene in this particular adventure. He's not counting on it though. It's how things just seem to turn out a lot of the time.     He pauses for a moment after starting to turn to the stairs, then shakes his head and says, "Chivalry aside, would one of our magic types care to go first? I wouldn't be able to tell if there's a demon present until it tried to rip my head off. And I tend to avoid that kind of thing."
Sara Pezzini	Sara snorts softly as she folds the wings back up and moves to follow the others toward the bar. It wasn't uncommon for old men to stare, but calling them out on it was something that needed to happen. It wasn't alright for that sort of thing to happen, and if she had her way she would have made some comments right along with her standing out to ensure the old man understood the error of his ways. He had been helpful though, so instead she accepted the fact he realized he was caught and let it go. "It feels like her magic," she offers Zatanna once she catches up, which isn't all that hard to do really. "Magical signature is an exact match, no variations or differences to it at all. Might still be a double, but it would have to be one amazing double to exactly copy magical usage." Upon reaching the bar, she looks up the stairs to the second floor then over toward the bar, and finally her eyes settle on the motorcycle. Even she recognized it as Phoebe's, even if it was the wrong helmet. What was she doing here and, if her bike was here, what was floating down the Ohio river with the tracker on it? "I don't know how I would ever explain to Batman how I got two of his Robins killed by one demon," she comments, eyes turning to look toward the storm. "I'll go up first, but my gut is telling me that we're fine until that storm gets here, and it's telling me something is in that storm." That said, she heads up the stairs first just as she said she would. Witchblade was a walking danger sense, if anything at all was going to happen, she'd know about it before it actually happened.
Zatanna Zatara	The magician makes an abrupt cutting motion and blurs out of existence to reappear next to Meggan. With a hop and a skip, she keeps time with her pace. Another street lamp blinks on overhead and steadies, illuminating the way. Zee turns, walking backward to face Tim, Nightwing, and Sara, and points to the stairs, miming the question, "Up or down?" Pirouetting, she is back at Meggan's side. With a nod to the motorcycle, "Bar? It's Phoebe." The wind picks up smelling of ozone; the dark clouds have an ominous green tinge to them. With a self-deprecating smile, Zee says the obvious, "Something is brewing."
Meggan Constantine	"The emotions feel like her. Careful we don't just kick down the door. She might be expecting a demon to do that. Hiding out here in the back end of civilisation or all." Meggan cautions the others on one of her loops around the building. Her movements convey an unnatural symmetry to them that speaks to a total focus elsewhere. When she has no active reason to suppress the wider extremes of her metahuman nature then they grow far more apparent. Sara's warning brings her up a little short though. Zatanna's compounds it, and the elemental rocks on her heels rather than tramp up the stairs or slouch around the bar. "Better get cover inside. She was hiding. Phoebe thought something was coming for her." Her chin lifts as though she is looking a very far distance away. "I'm no tactician." To Dick and Tim, she asks, "What do you think is best? Collecting her or waiting to get whatever's going to come down?"
Tim Drake	If not for the fact they've already decided to go directly to where they suspect Phoebe to be, Tim would have lingered behind. He's suspicious as a rule, to a fault even, and by the set of his jaw he seems uneasy about how quickly they've managed to locate her. Which is, admittedly, counting chickens before they hatch.     But they're too out of place to make questioning eye witnesses anything more than a waste of time, especially seeing as how they've likely already spoken to the only person in town who would willingly provide information. Creepiness aside. Or maybe it's just how people in Kansas are?     It's not like he went around talking to strangers on the occasions he visited Smallville in the past.     He scopes out the bike as best he can from afar, then bites the inside of his cheek. As answer to Zatanna's question his head tilts up. "Phone just turned on. It's inside. I don't...." But whatever direction his thoughts have turned, he makes the decision to keep it to himself. For now.
Phoebe Beacon	The stairs aren't in the greatest of shape, but they hold as everyone goes up, and then into the narrow hall. There are four doors - A, B, C, and D.     Door A, closest to the stairway and an apartment that is facing the street has a label of A HUXLEY.     There is also the sound of something hitting the floor, a shadow under the crack of the door -- and then sniffing, whining, pawing at the door as a dog attempts to get attention to this door, whining, and then giving a soft 'awroooo' sound, turning in quick circles, and then snuffing and tippy-tapping at the door again.     The bar, on the otherhand, opens up and shows that it's pretty much the only place in town to hang out. There's a couple older flatscreens with washed out colors showing a recorded college football game from yesteryear. There's a good amount of people in here who are, doing as they tend to at bars, converting their money to bodily fluid via a glass-by-glass system of internal consumption. There's a couple of folks who look up if the door opens to look at who's walking in.
Dick Grayson	Considering the situation he suggests "We need to figure out where she is, as that is probably where any incoming trouble will head. Zatanna, I'd say you're about the most normal looking of us at the moment, mind sticking your head inside and see if you can spot her? The rest of us can stay here, ready to respond to anything bad in either direction."     Looking towards the oncoming storm he adds, "That does seem to be a bad color for clouds. Hopefully the demon is in there and not just sending the storm from elsewhere. I would suggest all of you prepare for a fight and be ready to move. Until we find Phoebe, we're kind of stuck guarding the area in general."     He looks over to Meggan and asks, "Is there anything you can do to break that storm up without killing yourself or making it spawn off tornados in all directions?"
Sara Pezzini	Even with the armor around her body, Sara doesn't make much noise. The stairs might, but she doesn't. Pausing at the first door she listens for a moment to the dog on the other side. Idu, had to be. A for Amy, Huxley being the last name Phoebe was presently using. < Idu's inside, > she offers the comm, then simply knocks on the door. Demons don't knock, so if Phoebe was also inside it would be a good sign that the demon was not at her door. "Hey Pheobe," she calls softly. "You in there or do I have to take the door off the hingest to let Idu come out and play?"
Zatanna Zatara	Throwing Nightwing a doubtful look, the magician straightens her jacket. After a significant nod to Meggan and Tim, she mutters, "Back me up." She pushes open the door and walks in, heading straight for the bar. Grit from the street blows in from the mounting wind, bringing a taste of the approaching storm. With the aplomb of a stage magician, Zee ignores the eyes turning on her, projecting an air of belonging. She scans the crowd hopefully.
Meggan Constantine	Meggan has the grace to duck her head and blush a touch, cheeks swept in the faintest pallor of roses over a healthy golden cream. She looks briefly to the side to Zatanna to gauge her reactions to the bar and the oncoming storm. Kansas preparing for a storm can turn green and taste all wrong. Humidity hangs in the pregnant pause of problems ready to unleash with a violence. She whispers in Dick's direction, "Yes. Pointing tornadoes might be tougher. Keep everyone inside so I can squish the tornadoes and run them out of town, please?" She trusts the magicians and Bats to hold the bar, while the need is apparent to stand in the doorway facing down the sky. Right, because staying in doorways has ever been useful.
Tim Drake	There's something to be said about splitting up the party. As in: it's usually a bad idea. Tim's drawing on his experience with D&D here rather than Scooby Doo, but it's a pretty universal truth either way.     So he looks between Sara advancing towards the door and Zatanna heading out towards the bar. His weight shifts, ready to start following after Zee, but it's the sound of a dog scratching at the door that changes his mind. "We sure it's Idu?" he asks, a hand already moving to the back of his utility belt for his staff, stashed there.     His cape picks up the wind coming in from the open doorway, past Meggan. Sticking around in Kansas with potential funnel clouds looming in the distance, potential demons behind doors, and... uh, people being judgmental at them in a bar. He frowns at Nightwing and shakes his head. "I think at this point I'm well within my best friend rights to kick down the door, yeet her over my shoulder and take her back to Gotham."
Phoebe Beacon	Idu must hear familiar voices. There's more tip-tapping at the door, and excited panting and complaining from the other side, a quick dog-zoom and then back to the door with the whining that comes from a dog who wants to see the person they know RIGHT NOW.     The weather appears to consider Meggan's stance in the doorway as an invitation to start raining. Take THAT. And THAT. All these little droplets of water separated by air resistence! The greenish tint to the oncoming midwest storm continues to boil a little. A Tornado watch is issued, though it's unusual this early in the season.     In the Bar: There's a couple of people who look up, but when others don't say hello, a few more just look at Zatanna curiously. It's not often they see strange women walking into the town bar. And less often that they're beautiful.     Some sand and dust follow them in, rattling against the wooden boards, and as Zee takes a seat at the bar, the bartender with a polo shirt that doesn't quite cover his gut all the way, but looks friendly enough comes over, leans his elbow against the bar and looks her in the eye.     "Not often I see new faces in here, beautiful." he states, with absolutely no ill intent behind his voice. "What can I get you?"
Dick Grayson	Dick catches Tim's look and shrugs a little. "We've got two places to check and a possible incoming demon storm. Splitting up to find her is quicker. If we find her in one place or the other, we all converge there and see if we have a demon to deal with."     Since he's the one who suggested Meggan try to kill the storm, he stays right by her, ready to play bodyguard if needed. For the moment he stays outside, as he's sure his suit would be the center of a lot of attention they can do without. Besides, Zatanna is in there to keep an eye on the indoors crowd.     He hasn't pulled his batons yet, but he's on high alert, ready to go wherever he's needed. Sometimes it's less stressful to actually be in the fight than preparing for one is.
Sara Pezzini	As the rain begins to come down Sara accepts that wet is just going to be a part of this. She waits for any sort of verbal response, and Idu complies, but that wasn't what she was hoping for. Laying her hand on the door knob she tries it and finds it locked. Of course it's locked, Phoebe knew to lock her door, she's smart and from two cities that are filled with crime. Glancing over to Tim she says quietly, "If she's in there, she's being quiet, but get ready. I'm going to pop the door knob so I don't have to destroy the entire door to gain access. I think Idu will come darting out, I'll get him if he does, you check inside for her hiding. If the demon was already here, Witchblade would already know and have reacted." Easier to replace a doorknob and lock than the entire door, right? With her hand still on the knob, she gives Witchblade that few seconds he needs to sense for any danger, then twists the knob whether it wants to be or not, and pushes the door open. She's ready to catch Idu if he does come running, and gives Tim the space he needs to get inside, but she is still ready to act should something else be lurking inside that might go for Tim. He could handle himself against a great many things, she knew that, but magical things? She wasn't certain and she refused to lose a Robin, it would just look so bad on her resume.
Zatanna Zatara	Zatanna knows how to take a compliment. Sensing that he is not being pervy about it, she smiles softly and flutters her eyelashes in her best rendition of the girl next door, slightly abashed at the compliment. After tossing back her shoulder-length raven hair, she looks up and down the bar, and then focuses back on the bartender with a warm smile in her sapphire eyes. Radiating easy confidence, "If you have beer on tap - one, please. And, I'm looking for my friend, Amy. Is she working tonight?"
Meggan Constantine	The thick smell of petrichor comes off the hot asphalt and seeps through the air in a heady rush of disturbed earth, warm concrete, and water vapour. Her back to the bar's wall gives Dick more room to seek protection inside if matters become severe enough to justify heading to a basement. She holds out her hand to catch the raindrops before they fall to the ground, gathering the precipitation into a rotating silver globe about the size of a pingpong ball. "Storms break down when you take away their warmth and moisture -- bit like what wrecks a summer bank holiday. I'm going to muck about with those and see if I can't collapse the updrafts before they start evolving." Her fingers curl and feel through the atmosphere at ground level to get a precise sense for the water droplets in the air. Water defines the main premise of heat and humidity. Pushing outward leaves open broad currents between the raindrops where the air stays dry, or buzzing with less water than was there earlier. The process of the Tuath de Danaan forcing the dewpoint to escalate and latent humidity to crash takes minutes, not seconds in a kind of symphony that has to start purposefully. Vivaldi's "Summer" follows on smooth, light notes before building up grandly. The first hectic rush of the violin section doesn't hit until the first minute and a half in, after all. Pulling the heat from the air means pushing it somewhere through a channel between her feet. In that case, grounding it deep into the immense limestone strata forming the Ogalalla Formation. Loess soil that feeds the breadbasket of the United States can absorb some, but the borrowed plumes yanked from the vicinity of that disarmingly named town end up pushed through the vertebrate fossils and long-ago algal mats laid down in Cretaceous rivers, when the great inland valleys of the Dust Bowl were torpid, watery worlds crawling with life. Oscillating between rapid bursts of activity and slower drags to coalesce warmth a couple dozen meters down means Meggan has absolutely no idea of what happens among Zatanna or Tim and Sara's efforts. An act of total trust, then. Nightwing could baton her across the back of the head after all.
Tim Drake	Another attempt at calling Phoebe is made. There's a reason why the number is active now all of a sudden, rather than powered off with a full voicemail inbox. Tim's in the same boat as Phoebe in that he hates talking on the phone and will almost always respond to a phone call by not answering and then sending a text immediately afterward.     But if any time is a time to answer, it's now.     "No," he says to himself, when the call goes to voicemail again. And then, uncharacteristically, he swears.     Okay, Tim says, "Dammit," which is still pretty shocking for Tim! He's awkwardly straight-laced at times. Maybe uptight's a better word.     He's shaking his head as Sara reaches for the knob. "I don't like any of this." He's bracing himself for whatever comes through that door and his gut tells him it might not be Phoebe.
Phoebe Beacon	The phone rings in Tim's ear. Inside the apartment, there's music playing.     "THEY'RE TAKING THE HOBBITS TO ISENGARD! GARD-GARD-GARD-GARD GARD! The Hobbits the hobbits the hobbits to hobbits to ISENGARD to ISENGARD!"     Sara disengages the lock, and something red and white and wire-haired LEAPS OUT TO ATTACK RED ROBBIN! -- With kisses.     It's Idu, who is SO EXCITED to see his friend who probably has the GOOD FOOD and not the stuff he's been eating and there is a person there who is new (who he momentarily sniffs at) and then goes back to Red Robin and OMG FRAND I LOVE YOU -- the dog nearly bends himself in half, tail wagging, all forty pounds of the sight hound attempting to knock Tim into the wall.     The inside of the apartment is... bad. There's a couch that's piled with blankets. The good cellphone, with its cracked screen and lockscreen showing Phoebe taking a candid selfie in the old Laughing Magician last year swinging by a charge cable where someone appears to have been trying to get at a plastic tub of dog treats stored above it. The phone is connected to a cheap tablet, where information was being transfered in airplane mode, still lingering on the tablet. A guitar is poised gingerly on the side of the couch.     The tiny kitchen corner has a couple of broken, stained coffee mugs and cheap plastic bowls. A plastic laundry tub of clothing. A worn towel and poof and a tiny shower in the kitchen. That can't be legal. A saucepot is holding water below a water stain in the ceiling -- must be a leak.     Down in the bar, the bartender gives a slight smile. "I was wondering if someone was looking for her." he replies, and the large man gives a strech and roll of his shoulder before he calls out -- "Hey! Amy!"     And around the corner comes a girl. Dark skin, dark eyes rimmed with red who looks like she hasn't slept in days. Her head's been shaved, but the kinks and coils are growing back in. She wears an athletic sleeve over her left arm, and has a wide collar with lace that mostly hides the gauze of a dressing on her neck, and a silver chain hanging from her neck, wearing a black T-shirt and jean cut-offs. Not exactly a dress code in BAR.     She looks to the bartender, and then slowly she looks to Zatanna. Her eyes go wide, and she takes a step back a moment, lips pressing close as she looks to the door, as if judging if she can make a run for it.
Dick Grayson	Nightwing splits his attention between Meggan and the storm. He may not know much about magic, but it does intrigue him, so he's paying a bit more attention to her than to his surroundings. Granted, he's got a movement tracker onscreen in the HUD his mask provides, but sometimes there's no substitute for actually seeing things coming.     So far, things seem to be going fairly well. There's no great tumult coming from either the bar or the upstairs apartment and no visible funnel clouds forming, so he continues to play bodyguard and prepare himself if something demonic takes exception to it's perfectly good storm being destroyed.     << Comm check, how are we doing? >>
Sara Pezzini	Yep, that's about what Sara expected. Dog explosion, though admittedly she's never seen one wage his entire butt quite that way before. < She's not up here, but Idu is. > is offered over the comm while Tim is being mauled lovingly, excitedly, and thoroughly. That was one happy dog. Just to be certain, she takes one step into the apartment. to look around, to let Witchblade get a feel of the place. Since the order got reversed and it was Tim dealing with the dog, she'd check out the apartment.
Zatanna Zatara	Phoebe's surprise is indelibly etched into Zatanna's memory. She takes in the attempt to cover a wound that a healer of Phoebe's strength should not have, the mismatched clothes, and her recently shaved head. Questions will come later. Hopefully help for whatever situation she finds herself in. It does not take Meggan's formidable empathic skills for the magician to read her friend's fatigue. A throb of pity and sorrow for the circumstances that have brought Phoebe to this impasse overlay Zatanna's distaste for what she does next. The one thing she had hoped not to do. Zee stands up to face her. Striking as quickly as the lightning that plays from cloud to cloud in the storm stampeding toward them, the homo magi's voice thunders across the bar, !peelS !ezeerF
Meggan Constantine	Dick and Meggan happen to occupy the door out - one of them, anyway. Exit means getting through the eldest and most experienced Bat protege. Meggan's less of a threat than a secondary obstruction haloed in warm air pooled around her feet prior to its plunge deep into the ground. She dimly catches the conversation buzzing behind her, one happy Idu acknowledged by Sara and that distant bubble of concern that remains markedly Tim. Her hands move and guide the higher reaches of the thickened atmosphere to relinquish their heat. The cooling effect won't extend for kilometers out and up without going whole-hog, but she can make localised conditions much more conducive for a gentle rainstorm instead of a furious thunderhead boiling up on them. Ripping out supports by calling the wind to blow down and rustle outward instead of rising might cause clothes to flap and flags to wave. It's Kansas, not much stands in the way. "Anything?" she asks Dick. Girl is distracted. So it goes.
Tim Drake	"Welp," is all Tim can muster as he hears the ringtone coming through from the other side of the door. Just about seals the deal, that.     As it turns out, too, bracing himself was the correct decision. Even if it just means Idu doesn't bodyslam him into the wall. Red Robin ends up with an armful of sight hound, and somehow he manages to look flatly unemotional in Sara's direction while his face is being inundated with pupper kisses.     << Can confirm, this is definitely Idu. And Phoebe was definitely here at some point. >>     That much he can tell even from a brief scan of the apartment from the now-opened doorway with a squirming dog in his arms. So back down the steps he goes, sending a worried glance out at the sky that stalls him from putting Idu down.
Phoebe Beacon	Idu is absolutely overjoyed at being in Tim's arms and is decidedly happy about his current situation, his tail now whacking against Tim's shoulder armor as he wriggles and wags and is in Very Happy Doggo mode, greeting Nightwing and Meggan at the bottom of the stairs with 'hello new friends!' expressions, ears coming up.     The storm flattens out, rain pitter-pattering now in a 'oh fine' and less 'gonna show you!' expression, the storm getting along with Meggan's request of 'not being a horrible thunderstorm' and more 'dumping water nicely and politely'. The wind shifts anyway to try and get everyone wet.     The apartment is definitely where Phoebe has been staying, an open notebook on top of the chest of drawers -- the only other furnature in the apartment -- detailing an injury and progression and treatment. Lots of long medical terms, examples of the injury, diagrams that look like medical textbook items. A little gruesome, considering there's no medical books (or wifi) in the apartment.     Down in the bar is another matter. Zee's quick spell slinging does make Phoebe freeze in place, dropping a bin of glasses in the process that smash to the floor, but the girl winces, fighting it for half a heart-beat before she begins to drop. Exhaustion is no good for fighting off magical effects.     Beau, the bartender, gives a yelp and catches 'Amy' before she can hit the glasses. "Someone! Call a doctor!"
Dick Grayson	Hearing Zatanna's 'spellcasting voice' and glass breaking from inside the bar, Nightwing opens the door and steps inside. It doesn't appear that a fight is brewing and no demons are immediately visible, so he leaves his weapons undrawn.     He walks over to Zatanna and then sees Phoebe unconcious in the bartender's arms. Glancing over to Zatanna he says quietly "I take it she was thinking about running?" before kneeling down to check the unconscious girl's pulse, noting the injury much as Zatanna had. "She's had a rough couple weeks."     << We've found her in the bar. Let's see if we can get out of here without a fight. >>
Sara Pezzini	With the news that Phoebe was downstairs, and Tim already taking Idu downstairs, Sara begins moving around the apartment. Getting a backpack, she staqrts collecting Phoebe's things. The journal, clothing, anything she can find that looked like it might belong to the teenager and not to the extremely depressing apartment. If she was needed downstairs to help get Phoebe out, she would leave what she was doing behind, but for now her thought was how the girl would want her belongings. << I could suggest a few hundred lies to offer, about missing persons in Gotham and New York, but I'll leave that up to you. If I'm needed, call me. I'm getting her things together now. >>
Zatanna Zatara	A magician should never regret her powers. Yet, regret bites Zatanna hard as she watches Phoebe crumple into the bartender's arms, glass shattering spectacularly to the floor. Muttering, "Hell, hell and damnation," she climbs onto the bar and spins over the top to drop down behind it. "Let me take her. I...I'm a healer. I know her. She's my friend." Neither truth nor a lie. "Has she been this tired for so long?" If need be, and without compunction, Zee would make the entire bar forget they saw her cast a spell - all in the service of protecting Phoebe. Readying herself to blank their minds, she kneels next to Phoebe and answers Nightwing's question. "She certainly looked it. Let's get her out of here?"
Tim Drake	Tim's breath catches in his throat at the sound of shattering glass. Somehow he just knows, even before Dick announces it over comms. Maybe because, cliche as it is, what else but Phoebe's sudden arrival would prompt that sound?     It's cinematic. The Outsiders host movie nights every weekend because the Roost is a reclaimed theater. He knows his tropes.     << Right. We should clear out of here. Find somewhere nearby we can regroup. >>     He doesn't rush to Phoebe's side, which probably seems unusual to an outside viewer. It's just because that reunion shouldn't happen in a bar, of all places. Or confrontation, as the case may be.     Not that Tim wouldn't put that on hold until after Phoebe's slept, if he caught sight of her now. But he has Idu in his arms, and that's at least something he can focus on.
Phoebe Beacon	Beau gives 'Amy' over to Nightwing to check, and he just looks positively aghast that someone slung some sorta weird power and then an East Coast superhero just shows up? OUt of the blue?     "This... is the last time I hire a girl from New Jersey." he complains, and leans against the back of his bar since his barback's been knocked out. He looks to Nightwing as he begins to check over the girl, and then to Z as she hops the bar.     Phoebe is, for the most part, okay. Just under compulsary sleep. Her pulse is dropping from adreniline rush to sleep levels, and Phoebe, for the moment, is safe in the arms of her friends.     Idu is in Tim's arms, happily waiting to be carried off. Her belongings being gathered by Sara Pezzini, anything remaining to be sent to a safehouse in Bludhaven, where her fake ID said was 'home'.     And as the rain that came falls gently on the plains, Phoebe Beacon is recovered after spending far, far too long away from home.     And Idu, good boy that he is, happily curls his neck backwards and gives Red Robin the mother of all cowlicks for his trouble.