Owner	Pose
John Constantine	It makes a person wonder how John and Chas make a dime off this dive, what with the way they're *always* closing the doors to the general public. Tonight is another one of those nights. Do they even make enough to keep the lights on? Between mystic side jobs and a little magical cheating here and there, they make it work.     John's at his usual stool, the one no one else ever seems to want to sit in. The usual pack of Silk Cuts on the bar near him, same ashtray with one already lit in it, bottle of scotch, glass. It's not hard to imagine that one day he'll just keel over dead right there.     Chas is behind the bar... polishing glasses, go figure. There's a bit of tension left over from events earlier in the day, but it's fading rather quickly. John's glowers and glares in his best mate's direction aren't nearly as often.     The jukebox volume is low, the music a mix of punk and classic - rock that is; just another day ending in Y at the Laughing Magician.     Save for the fact that tonight John is waiting on someone he's actually asked to come here, one Lara Croft. He needs not pay mind to the door, he'll be alerted when she enters.
Lara Croft	Lara had been back and forth from her job at Happy Harbor this week, along with the regrowing responsibilities with SHIELD, so she was never short on thigns to do, things that needed her time and attention, not to mention everything 'back home' across the pond... Her black Jeep Wrangler pulls up outside of the place and in to a parking spot. She steps out from inside and with the sun down shetakes her sunglasses and stows them in the Jeep before grabbing her phone and tucking it in to a pocket on her hip. In a white button-up with a black tanktop on under that, a pair of dark tan hiking trousers and some leather boots on, Lara walks toward the bar and steps through the open door as someone holds it for her. Her familiar voice saying 'Thank you!' to the patron who held the door for her will probably give her arrival away, as she descends the inner steps and strides on inside the pub. With a light exhale, Lara looks about the quiet place-- much quieter than the last time she was here --and spies John at the bar at his spot. With a faint smirk she starts toward him, offering a nod on her approach.
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe is already in the bar, having switched out her 'going out' clothes to her business clothes, in that she's got her light jacket over a stool, is wearing proper jeans and a T-shirt announcing that March 15th 2000 has half-off Ceasar Salads at a particular (but now closed) Gotham eatery. Her bookbag is on the floor, and she has her notebooks in front of her. She's given John a couple of barstool's distance now.     But knowing there was going to be a meeting tonight, she had her glasses on and was quietly working on re-writing notes. She looks up as Lara walks in, her lips pursing as she gives a soft 'hm', and takes a note.
Ruth Kincaid	Well, there was someone else John had asked to come visit. She just couldn't at the time, caught up with the red tape and paperwork. Ruth in her street clothes still floats just the same as in the costume, but the woman who channels stress and tension into performance has been replaced with the insecure young adult that screams vulnerability. Black jeans, forest green blouse, and long sky blue jacket. Lots of wristbands, bracelets, anklets, keychains, rubber bands, chains, and other assorted janglies, all not jangling as they float silently along with her. She dips down out of the sky upside-down towards the door, peeking in as she rights herself. "Is this the right place?"
John Constantine	When Lara approaches John, Chas turns to that safe under the back portion of the bar; it's the one that appears to have no locks - appearances can be very deceiving. When he stands again, he slides an envelope across the bar to John without a word.     "Thanks for comin', luv." That's to Lara as she approaches. "Got a job for you," he announces without further ado or pomp. "I need someone to... lead an expedition of sorts. Catacombs, beneath the Vatican Necropolis, supposed to be a secret that, but we all know secrets can't be kept." Pointed look at Chas on that bit. "... entrance to these catacombs is rumored to be inside the Temple of Emperor Constantine." No, irony is not lost on him. "Twenty thou, plus expenses?"     ... bar must be doing better than anyone thinks, aye? Or that loot isn't cleanly acquired. Or maybe it is? Is it really a crime if you're not there when it happens?     Must be, 'cause there he sits, the man lit up by an Angel's glow the night before... or was it two nights? They're all a blur with John recently.
Lara Croft	The others in the bar tonight get a look from Lara, but when there's many faces it can be hard to pay any singular one of them any measure of personal touch, so the stare passes over and when she reaches the bar her hands go to the edge of it. She offers a more even keeled smile at John, and one for Chaz too. Her eyes drop to the packet of offered expenses money and she tentatively reaches out for it. "Really?" Lara questions of the job details. "Do you have any proof to back up this claim of there being something there?" She asks of him then. She lifts up the offered money and then lowers it back down to the bar. "I mean, I'm intrigued, of course, but there's quite a lot of concern about going and poking around in such a place. The Vatican is rather.... well, I'm sure you know all too well." She says with a larger smile that comes and goes. Lara takes a moment to order a drink of vodka and cranberry from the bartender then.
Phoebe Beacon	It is, admittedly, not often Phoebe sees anyone around her own age in the bar. The girl at the bar gives a little smile to Ruth as she comes in, and makrs the note in her book about her arrival. She gives a soft humming sound as she writes something else, then turns her wrist over to lightly scratch at the white ink tattoo of a spell circle on her left wrist.
Ruth Kincaid	Well, the person Ruth came to see is here, so that's a point in favor of the "right place" hypothesis. Though he seems busy, so she'll just... smile back to Phoebe and then take a seat. Or rather, hover just above the seat as if sitting, to wait for her turn with the magician.
John Constantine	"I'm looking for the Tears of Saint Barholomew," John explains further.     Again, Chas is there without word to slide a yellow envelope across the counter to John. This one bigger, bigger than legal size even. It's also padded.     Double dutying it, that vodka and cranberry is served up next. Although it's clear on Chas' expression that he's not sure *why* anyone would mix the two. "On the house, then..." he offers with a side-long glance in Laura's direction.     "This came from the library in the House of Mystery." Most even half familiar with the Mystic side of things have heard of the House and some even know John owns it now. Carefully, he pulls an old map from the envelope and unfolds it. It does appear, it seems, to be a map of a winding and twisting and turning and up and down labyrinth of catacombs beneath the Vatican Necropolis, Scavi, whatever one chooses to call it.     "What I'm after is rumored to be here," he points to the map and of course it's about as far from the spot marked 'Constantine's Temple' as it can possibly get. "Bronze box," he pulls another bit from the envelope, a picture of a book page. It looks like an old mass box with the image of St. Bart etched into it.     If nothing else, the conversation might be interesting for a listen, right?
Phoebe Beacon	"... so, do you always float, or are you scared that the seats are dirty?" Phoebe gives a slight smile to Ruth, her eyebrows rising up as she purses her lips. "Because I'm pretty sure they're clean. Not as clean as the glasses, sure, but pretty clean." she states, and she sips her own drink -- which is fizzy and pink. And definitely not alcoholic. And has a bunch of cherries in it. Because they are *not* gross, Chas.     "Are you here to see John too?" she asks politely to Ruth, though she is listening to the conversation between John and Lara.
Lara Croft	With the drink delivered, free no less, Lara affords Chaz another soft smile of thanks before voicing it softly to him. Her hand raises the drink up to sip it before her eyes go to the offered information John already has, and supplies her. Her glass is set down and her free hand moves the items over to look upon them. "Well. This is a considerably good start. If it actually leads to something that hasn't been found already. These types of places have potentially had others delving in to them... countless times." She says before glancing up at the other sat the bar. Phoebe and Ruth both get a smile from the archaeologist before she looks back toward John. ""I take it this isn't a distant family relative that you're looking to explore the history of, but rather something for a personal project? Emperor Constantine wasn't very popular amongst Pagans, for a number of very valid reasons.... his catacombs may very well have been heavily targeted for that reason alone...." Her eyes are on the papers provided though and she's clealry like a kid in a candy store with them in front of her...
Ruth Kincaid	Ruth plinks sideways out of her seat and then kind of bounces over to Phoebe, her movement sharp and angular. "Woke up one day tangled with my sheets in the ceiling fan. Haven't been able to get down since. Gotten kinda used to it now." The other question earns a sighing what-can-you-do curl of the lip and a nod. "Tying up loose ends from the other night. A thing happened. It was bad."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia has never been to the Laughing Magician before. This isn't exactly the kind of place that she would ever voluntarily go to either, if it wasn't for the fact that there's been an influx of agitated spirits that she could sense, and most of them have guided her here. As she walks in, the wards clear her of her ectoplasm, leaving her feeling a bit naked. She stops, surprised and worried, until her body starts generating some more while inside the bar. Breathing a sigh of relief she makes her way in and takes notes about who's in the bar. She recognizes Ruth from the incident with the mass of murderous possessions and makes her way over to her. "Hello," she says, "You were there, the other day. With all those angry spirits," she says. "We never got properly introduced. I'm Lydia." She looks around at the seemingly normal bar. "Is there something going on here? I was... guided here." She isn't sure how much she should reveal to the woman. Perhaps some of Mystique's paranoia is rubbing off on her.
John Constantine	That map alone is likely worth at least as much as is being offered in the envelope full of cash there. The House is filled with all sorts of such. Maps, books, artifacts. "Personal project, aye, I guess you could call it that." If by personal one means what he's looking for is the one thing that will keep him from dying a slow, horrible death when Phoebe's healing isn't enough anymore and his lungs begin to turn to sludge. Sure, it's a personal project.     "It's a time sensitive matter," John adds before pulling yet another picture from his little bundle of paperwork. It's a picture of another box, plain, nothing inscribed save a tiny cross at its center. Difficult to tell what the thing's made of, copper maybe? "This is rumored to be there as well, it contains a piece of the true cross if it's there. Yours for the taking."     Isn't Lara's hobby oft based on rumors and 'ifs'?
Lara Croft	Lara's brown eyed gaze is just roaming over the map that John spoke of. The value of anything is pretty irrelevent to Lara, its more about the discovery of the lost history of Earth... she's all about shattering the dogmatic beliefs of archaeology by locating things thought to be myths, or 'long gone' to time and... Tomb Raiders. When she looks up from the papers, she regards John a moment. He's keeping something from her, she knows that much, but for some reason she believes in the guy. "Right. Well. I'd like to do some of my own research before setting out, but if this is really /really/ time sensitive I can do most of that on the way there...." She states before glancing at her drink again to take another sip from it. Her eyes go back to the map and she bites down on her bottom lip for a moment's thought. "The Miracles of Saint Bart are many and vast, but have also been fairly thoroughly sought after too. Hitler's regime put a great amount of attention toward finding relics such as the Tears." She has to temper expectations... Her eyes go back to John then and she nods once. "We'll do our best though, yes?"
Phoebe Beacon	"Ah! Mutant or magical power? Or both? If you feel comfortable sharing, that is--" Phoebe inquires to Ruth, and then she remembers her manners as Lydia makes her arrival, and she offers her right hand, first to Ruth, and then to     "Phoebe. I live above the bar at the moment and working with John on..." she trails off a moment, looking over to the magician who is exploring the possibilities of a visit to the Vatican that does *not* involve being a tourist.     "... a couple of projects." she decides is a good term with what they are doing.     "... oh! Is this about the ah... angel sighting?" she questions, looking from Lydia to Ruth, her eyebrows rising up.
Ruth Kincaid	To Phoebe, Ruth waves it off, "Nah, mutant, it's not a secret anymore. I've been outed and registered and all that. I-- the angel sighting is /related/, but it's not what I'm here /about/. Though I hope she's okay and all. There was a bit of confusion at the end on--"     And then there's Lydia! "Yeah, I was there," Ruth slumps in the air, then shivers. "They were all /over/ me. I don't drink, but if it'd help me forget I might start. You know, if I didn't have to be the designated flier." She doesn't seem particularly proud of her attempt at humor. "I'm Ruth. I'd offer to shake your hand, but..." She glances to Lara, then back to Lydia. "'Scuse me, gotta shill my gig for a bit."     She raises her voice with a wave to Lara. "Planning a trip? I can pick you up and drop you anywhere in a few minutes, luggage and all. Cheaper than jet fuel."
Lydia Dietrich	The glowing green woman takes Phoebe's hand in her own. "It's a pleasure to meet you." At the mention of the incident Lydia shakes her head, "No. Well, yes, but I'm more concerned about the breach in reality that let angry spirits through to this world than the angel itself." She waves a hand through the ectoplasmic mists that constantly surround her, "I can sense spirits and ghosts and they're not happy." Ruth gets a grin, however. "Hello fellow mutant!" she says, walking up to the bar and ordering a Manhattan. "We'll consider hands to have been shaken, then." She doesn't query why they can't shake hands. She knows that sometimes mutations are just like that.
John Constantine	"Just be out with it John," Chas growls from behind the bar. "Lara, you find them or he dies, that's it... short of it. So please, find them." The man has, obviously, had enough of pussy footing around this matter, ignoring it and *forgetting* about it. His best friend's wrath be damned, he's going to lay it all out.     "Smooth, mate," John hisses back. "Well, there you have it," he admits to Lara. "I either get what I need or what's left of Hell'll be fighting for who really has the rights to yours truly. Of course there's... not that much left right now." He doesn't seem all that put out by the fact, but then he has an excellent poker face. "I'd planned to leave... maybe Tuesday at the latest. Can you be ready, luv?"     Finally, for a moment, his attention shifts from Lara to Phoebe and her new friends. "Ecto girl," he points to Lydia... "...and Golem girl..." Maybe he wasn't quite so drunk that night after all? A finger pointed at Ruth. "EMS Floater..." See what he did there. "I bet you both have questions and I'm not sure I have answers, but I'll try, as soon as Lara here agrees to go on a dungeon crawl for the buried treasure of St. Bart."     "... thanks for the offer, but I got a ride." ... in the form of a House that'll drop him anywhere he thinks to be. Convenient that, even if the Wretched thing behaves like a scorned woman and hides all his toilet paper if it thinks he's been 'bad'.     Chas might have to look up how to make a Manhattan, but it'll get delivered and be passably drinkable, served with a smile and a, "There you go, luv."
Lara Croft	Lara's attention is down on the papers up until she hears Chaz chime up in and in. John's response has her looking up again and directly on to his face. She does give a quick look from him to Chaz, then back to John. "Jesus, John...." Lara utters. "I mean.... this seems like a bit of a long shot, what is happening to you?" She blurts out before she shakes her head softly. "It is wrong of me to pry. I'm sorry. I'll... do everything I can, if you feel this is the right route for what you need." At the question of how long until she's ready she nods once to him. "I can be ready within an hour, but Tuesday is plenty of time, yes." She starts to put the map and such back away along with the offered money that she pushes back toward Chaz. "Keep this, for now. Lets see what we find before we talk about anything like that...."
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe leans over to Lara, and she purses her lips.     "It's true. He'll die unless we get the Tears. And it's much easier with someone who knows what they're doing, and with him when he's not expelling demon gunk and chunks of brachiolae." she states to Lara in a low whisper, and then gives a bright and happy smile.     And she straightens up, brushing her shirt as she gives a smile, and shakes Lydia's hand.     "Well, no, I would imagine they're not. I hear the Astral is a bit of a mess at the minute, isn't it?" she inquires, her face settling into the 'mildly interested' expression.     "John could explain more about it, so I'll let him do it.. I'm just... here taking notes. MOstly."
Ruth Kincaid	Okay, John has other travel arrangements. Well, you gotta ask. Ruth flashes a thumbsup and at least she tried. "A few questions, yeah. Big ones, but mostly short ones of the yes/no kind." Lydia's greeting makes her snort. "That sounds like a line from that show. Hello fellow students, says the middle aged guy in the high school."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia chuckles at the nicknames that John has given her. "I don't think we've been properly introduced," she says smoothly. "I'm Lydia Dietrich, who may or may not be infamous by now." If people payed attention to mutant news, they would have seen her there when Mystique held Wonder Woman's lasso to speak her truth. "And despite your reservations, Mr. Constantine, the golem is working flawlessly. It's been a major boon to the mutant community in Bushwick." Lydia chuckles at Ruth's comparison. "I suppose it does," she admits. Turning to John she says, "It's just that there are more spirits wandering around than usual and something is agitating them. Since you seemed to be the person who knew what was going on the other day, I suppose you're the best person to ask about it."
John Constantine	Now that the cat's out, well, what's it matter if he's out with it, most of it anyway. "Demon curse. 'fraid good St. Bart havin' a good cry's about all I can find that'll fix this particular one." Another day ending in Y for John Constantine, innit? He's *always* pissing those bastards off. "Tuesday it is then, luv. Stay for a few more if you'd like." On the house of course.     "She's right, the astral's bein' torn to bits and left a wasteland. The Gods of Death are at war, someone's trying to take total control and turn the Underworlds into ... just the one. But I'm not convinced that's related to what happened last night... the night before? Whenever it happened." Seriously, the crisis days are blurring together. All of it, of course, is aimed at Lydia and Ruth - not that Lara's 'dismissed' from the conversation or anything of the sort. It's just that the other two are here in direct relevance to *that*.     Look there, he has a drink and it's been neglected. No longer. He empties the glass with one smooth motion, refills it, empties again, refills it, takes somewhere between a sip and a swig, rolls it in his mouth before swallowing and sets it down again. Seems a bit of a ritual for the man when he's trying to maintain the 'calm'. Discussion of his imminent demise is sort of damaging that calm.     "It's John, Mister Constantine was a straight shite," he corrects Lydia... not quite snippy, not gentle either. It's the tone of a man that truly hates his own father. Story there, yes there is. But not one to be told to anyone this evening.     Chas polishes glasses behind the bar to reach his 'zen' and he's there quicker now that someone is *finally* on the 'John's Dying Crisis'.
Lara Croft	Lara's father Richard was obsessed with finding 'life saving artifacts' of all makes and varieties. Lara has stacks of journals and documents pertaining to this very thing, both at her place here in Manhattan and further more back at Croft Manor in Surrey.... so her mind is already going a mile a minute on other options if the Tears couldn't be found. She looks to Phoebe who gets a subtles soft nod from the British noble, who then returns her eyes to John. "Well... I uh..." At the suggestion of more drinks, she shakes her head. "No, I think it best I take what you've given me and I go and prepare." She affords a faint quick smile to those nearby before she nods once. "Tuesday. We will make it happen." She says in a calm voice. She holds up the folded up map and then nods once. "I'm going to head back to my place. If anything new comes up between now and then, don't hesitate to drop me a message." She nods once then to John, and once to Chaz. "You both have my number." Phoebe, and the others get a quick nod too from the archaeologist before she turns to head toward the exit of the bar again, leaving a mostly untouched drink behind on the bar.
Ruth Kincaid	Ruth draws her cell phone from her pocket, attached to her by a thread trailing back into said pocket, and starts typing some notes with swipes of her thumb. "Warring death gods, astral, merge the underworlds." And she also has a name to go with the face now. "John Constantine." Swipe. "Was this a natural phenomenon like undead weather? No." Swipe. "Was this an attack by someone? Maybe." Swipe. "Intentionally at us? Probably not? Undirected collateral damage?" That one questioning. Swipe. "Who do we look for as the perp for the Bronx attack? How can we tell if one of these is coming? How did you shut it down? What do we do to stop this from happening again? Find and hire more wizards?"
Phoebe Beacon	"... so that's Croft?" Phoebe asks to John and Chas, and she gives a nod. "Cool, she looks capable, cool..." she murmurs softly. She takes a deep breath, and she breathes out. She was clearly concerned that this Croft wouldn't be capable of saving John.     And the younger magi scratches her cheek a moment with a tattooed hand as Ruth takes over with the questions, and she leans back a moment, looking to JOhn with a curious expression.
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia scowls at John's predicament. Sure she doesn't like the man, but that doesn't mean she would want him to suffer or die. It looks like Lara and John have that handled. The news of the Gods of Death having a bit of a tiff catches her by surprise. "You're serious?" Of course he's serious. "That explains a few things," she muses. "But how do you keep literal /gods/ from fighting each other?" She nods when she's correct by John, taking a sip of her Manhattan and wincing. "John it is, then." She knows what it's like to be compared to your parents. Her mother is a piece of work, and if somebody were to call her 'Ms. Dietrich' she'd bristle at that too. "I don't think that astral rift was intentionally created," she says to Ruth. "I think it was more a side effect than anything. At least that's what it felt like to me."
John Constantine	"Chas..." John just says the man's name and Chas is off to the back room to return with another map. It's a modern one, but really, who buys *maps* anymore? Well, a Magician that's who.     It might appear, from the outside, that Chas is some sort of 'guy Friday' around here. Nothing could be further from the truth. The interactions between the two men are easily read. "John, don't go looking for trouble, you need a fuckin' night *off*," the bigger man warns before he places the map on the bar. There's genuine care there, affection, devotion, but it's returned in the way John looks at his friend, the apology there, silent, but there. These two have been through Hell (literally) and high together. ...and John wouldn't last long with his Best Mate to keep him even.     "Something's causing them. There's been reports from all over through my contacts." He smooths the map, it's of the tri-state area. About two dozen places are marked with small x's. One's the area of the Bronx they all know about. The others are spread from West Chester to Gotham and clear up into Starling in Delaware. "It's not always spirits. Demons, fae creatures, things I've never even heard of before. It's wide spread, these... thin spots. I can't see battling Hell Gods causing all of that."     As an aside to Lydia, "We're still working on that, stopping it that is."
Ruth Kincaid	Ruth buys maps. There's lots of places that don't get cell reception, and every time she takes a bullet she ends up at pretty much some /random/ place in the sky trying to find herself. She calls up her own map on the screen and taps the X's down. "Is it moving in a pattern? Following some kind of... ley line? Or is that bupkiss? Sorry if I'm assuming things from pop culture that aren't true. We're trying to figure out what emergency services need to do to be prepared to help."
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe comes around to John's far side to look at the map, abandoning her stool. She breathes out, looking at the Gotham locations.     "So, we have a park -- that's right near an abandoned warehouse in the North End of Gotham, the roof's caved in but the lower levels are accessable--" Phoebe states, and she pulls out her own phone, marking the three locations in Gotham.     "I still have contacts in some of the unhoused in the area, I can hit them up for reports of activity." she states, coming all to business. She rubs her thumb against the tattoo on her wrist again in thought as her lips purse.     "... there's a lot in popular fiction that's based on real life. Well, supernatural life?" she states, trying to find a good way to put it.
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia nods at John. "I'm here if you need help," she offers. "I don't know what I can do, magically. I'm still learning. I've got a few spells under my belt but it's nothing compared to what you can do." She shakes her head. "I can fight though. I don't /like/ fighting but if it's going to save somebody's butt, then I'll do it." A chuckle escapes her when the mention of supernatural fiction comes up. "You should read some of my books," she says. "I started getting into this to make sure that I'm getting some things right and to avoid giving out enough information for people to actually /do/ anything with it." She shakes her head, "And then one thing kind of lead into another."
John Constantine	"Ley lines are very real, luv." In fact, this very bar sits a top one, right on top. John made sure of it. "But no, no pattern. The thing in the Bronx was the worst yet as far as I can tell, but the worseness of it may have something to do with the state of the astral. Most of what's left there in that area are mindless and murderous. Both Baron Samedi and Mictlantechuhtli were killed there recently, there isn't much at all left astral side, the crows have stopped flying, it's nothing but a crater - dying."     ...and that's not good, if there's no in between for lost spirits and there's only one over-crowded hell at the end of it all? That's not good, the overflow has to wind up *somewhere*.
Ruth Kincaid	Ruth swipes some more. "No pattern." She sighs and closes her eyes, leaning forwards and rubbing her forehead. "Okay, is there some kind of /simple/ spell or ritual, something you can teach me that I can go on to teach others... you know, maybe all... passover paint the door frames with lamb's blood or whatever... that if something like this happens again will start turning it around if enough normal people do it?"
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe's eyebrow rises at the idea of a simple spell to contend with angry, unrestful, murderous spirits. UNfortunately, the only thing that comes to her mind is the quote from the classic Karate Kid, paraphrased as 'the best way to avoid trouble is not to be there.     But she leans against the counter a moment, looking at all the spots.     "... this isn't the beginning of any sort of lost souls due to the loss of destination, is it?" she asks John, her eyes narrowing.     "What's the importance of the crows?"
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia pulls out a small notebook and pulls out a page, scribbling her number on it. "Look," she says pushing the page over to John. "If another one of these rifts opens up, give me a call. I have access to teleporters, so I can be there licktiy split. We saw how effective I was at keeping things from escaping them." "If I recall correctly, crows Know Things," she says, making the capitalization very clear in her voice. She looks at John for confirmation, "Their absence means that something's up."
John Constantine	"I'm not Severus Snape, luv," John points out, friendly enough. "It's not that simple, I can't pass on spells like teachin' math equations. Especially when I don't know what I'm dealing with yet.     "It gets worse, at least two of these." He points to the two green dots amid the red. One in West Chester and one in Brooklyn. "At least two cases where people accidentally stumbled *into* one of these thin spots. A few teenagers in Brooklyn and a mom and her kid in Westchester. First - the teenagers, seems what they described might have been the Fair Lands, they were found a few days after being reported missing. Mum and her kid, over a week and the mum's ... not doing well, totally batshit truth of it. It's only a guess that's what happened, she was gripping a feather in her hand. Someone in the know on Westchester PD got his hands on it, doesn't know what it came from but it's not of this earth."     John takes the paper from Lydia and stuffs it into a pocket of his ever present trench coat. "Will do, luv and thanks for that. Couldn't have handled more without hurting someone in the process," he means that too, sincere gratitude.     To Phoebe, "... and crows, they assist the dead to the other side, without them there's nothing to guide them on from the purgatory of the Astral."
Ruth Kincaid	"Sorry, John. I'm ignorant of all the magic stuff, and so are the cops, and so are the medics, and the firefighters, and if the next rift opens into a lake of lava and brimstone and it starts pouring out down main street," which Ruth illustrates with swooshing arm gestures, "I'd like to be able to say I didn't just shrug and float away when I knew there was a problem coming." Ah. She's scared and helpless and very much doesn't like it. "Fine, so we can't just pool together with a bunch of small rituals. Got it. So does this stop only when the death gods get stopped? Do we summon a big enough fish to tell them all to sit down and shut up? Do we need to forge magic locks and chains we can wrap around a rift? Because if we have to keep pulling what you did last time, we're gonna run out of angels."
Phoebe Beacon	"Makes sense." is all Phoebe states with the response about the crows, and she rubs her cheek in thought, and then rubs her thumb over her left wrist again as she looks to Ruth. "If there was a better answer for you, he would have provided it. I don't think anyone on this side wants supernatural lava spilling out, but there's more crises than he has hands going on." she states, slightly defensive of John, and probably stating the answer much better than John might have snarked it. Hard to tell some days.     "So we've got the Fair Lands, and a mother and child coming back holding a feather that's not from this earth--" she pauses, and she pushes her thumb against the white tattoo.     "... do you think the aura would be enough to get the mom to calm down and give a good account of where she might have gone? Nng... either way, might not be a bad idea just to make sure she's not got any mental hitchhikers."
Lydia Dietrich	"Maybe we should all share phone numbers," Lydia suggests. "Kind of like a mystical hotline so if one of us spots something we can get together as a team." She looks at Ruth, "That way if you come across something you can call in backup that can help." She shakes her head, lost in her hopeless idealism, "I know mages are typically solitary people but I just think if we're able to coordinate this, we'll be able to keep more people from dying." She bites her lower lip as she thinks. "I may be able to squirrel away a fraction of the Brotherhood's bandwidth for this. You never know. If one of these things pops up in Bushwick I'd rather be prepared for it. "
John Constantine	"The only thing I can do right now is ... my best to be there when something happens. I have maps spelled to pick up on any shifts that match these rifts. I can be near anywhere I need to be in a matter of moments if one of them pings a match."     But he's just one man, can't be everywhere or everything to everyone no matter how hard he tries.     As if Fate is proving that point...     It just starts as a little itch, a tickle in the back of his throat. When the full on coughing starts it's not nearly as bad as the last, but it shouldn't be happening AT ALL considering how recently Phoebe did her thing. It shouldn't be, but it is. He coughs and splutters, knocks his damned glass off the bar in the process, face red, then a little purple before *finally* he clears it... in a napkin snagged from the bar. Black ichor, red flecked, nasty ass glob of the shit. He holds up a hand in Phoebe's direction to stay her before she starts... he's fine. Just give him a minute.     "John!" First we've heard from Chas in a bit, innit? "Bloody hell..." It's a water from the fridge the man replaces that glass with. "That first..."     After about half that water's gone, John's ready to speak again, hoarse but that clears soon enough too. "Just listen for a whisper on the wind," John tells Lyida. "If you're willing to share your full names, you'll hear it when I put the word out."     All the same, Chas scribbles his number and John's down for both Ruth and Lydia and passes them over.
Ruth Kincaid	"The whole point is make it not all depend on you personally. Everyone else is supposed to just wait for the zombies to eat their brains? How long until two rifts open at once? What then?" She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, listing slightly to the side. -- until John starts coughing, and then she's suddenly at his side, eyes focused instead of frightened, though she had to go upside-down and near the ceiling to get there cleanly, and she's about to try to intervene but Chas is ready and she leaves him to it, watching carefully, and gradually slipping back to her less assertive posture.
Phoebe Beacon	"-- John-!" Phoebe starts, and her look goes from contemplative to horror as John begins to turn all the colors of a bad rainbow. The only thing that stops her from working him over is his hand in her direction -- but all the same, she puts a hand on his shoulder. No powers, just comfort. She's there. She breathes out, reaching to grab more napkins, setting some in front of John, righting the scotch glass and beginning to wipe up the spill. She eyeballs Ruth a moment, then to Lydia as she breathes out..     "Like I said, multiple crisises at once."     And grabbing the scotch-soaked napkins (alas, party foul), Phoebe goes to her bag, leaning over to pitch the napkins in the bin behind the counter, and she wipes her hands on her jeans before she reaches into her bag and pulls out a pair of cheap business cards. The website #GothamHope was crossed out.     "My number, and E-mail." she states, handing one to Lydia and one to Ruth. "I might not be able to help with containment yet, but I can keep others in the fight."     And she smiles to Lydia. "I have a friend in Gotham who's pretty good with tech. Maybe we can set something up for quad-city monitoring of the areas with like, EMF detectors, thermal cameras..."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia scowls as John tries to hack up a long. "No wonder you're looking for the tears of a saint," she says. "That's nasty." There's a pause before she asks, "Will some holy energy help? I've got a spell... it.. it doesn't heal, but it helps ease the pain and is kind of fills you with vigor, like a godly energy drink." At the mention of giving out names she hesitates.. "Names have power, John and I...." She winces as she suddenly realizes something. "Hell. My name is all over the internet." She rubs her face in her hands, and pulls out another bit of notebook paper, and writes down her name in Hebrew. "Here." She takes Phoebe's card, and opens up her purse to pull out a wallet. She sticks that in there and nods. "That's a good idea," she says. "Lets see if we can have our tech heads cobble something together that we can use to network."
John Constantine	It might be noted, that the stuff coughed up... it *smells horrible*. How John can be coughing that up and still living? ... and how long will he *keep* living like that? Long enough to see this new mess through? Or will he be gone and leaving everyone to fend for themselves with it?     "Nooo... no, no Holy, luv but thanks for the offer." See, Holy *power* doesn't always mix well with demon tainted blood. Not that he's going to go into the why of it. Quietly, but not so quietly as to make it impossible for others to hear, John murmurs, "Shouldn't be starting again so soon," to Phoebe.     Here's to hoping Lara's good enough to find those tears?     He takes the paper with Lydia's name on it and puts it in the same pocket as the number. "Aye, they do at that. I promise not to invoke yours unless needed," he promises, as much as a promise is worth from John Constantine. It's unlikely he'd ever use it for nefarious deeds, truly - unless those nefarious deeds were deemed necessary for the 'greater good'. Any means to an end, it's his motto and what's gained him the negative opinions of many through the years.     John Constatine: Chaotic Good Mage in a world that tends to want to see only the black and white of it. He'd sure kill your pet if it would save the neighbor's kid.     Finally to Ruth, "I'm workin' on it, luv. I am, but I can't do much in the way of telling someone else how to deal with it until I know that *it* is.     "I plan on visitin' the mum soon... as soon as he finds a minute? A second to do it. "Anyone else thinks they can get something straight out of her head, speak up. I've been where she is... calm isn't the point, doesn't clear a messed up mind."     To Phoebe directly, "Bloke in the ridiculous suit?"
Ruth Kincaid	Her frank horror at what he's coughing up is unvarnished, and she looks him over with sharper eyes considering the implications for his health and... well, just shudders. "I'm Ruth Kincaid. My name's in the book, anyone can just call Aerial Support, my business number just redirects to my personal comms with a different ringtone." She slumps and shakes her head, "Okay, tell me what kind of sensors can detect these rifts and I'll see if I have any spares from my suit to make drones with."
Phoebe Beacon	"No." Phoebe replies quietly to John as she closes her bag, and adjusts her glass. "It shouldn't. It's getting worse." she takes a breath. "Do you want a session before you leave for the night? Just... to make sure you can breathe easy." she states quietly to John, returning to his side with her bag, and when he asks... she makes a slight face at him.     "Yes." she states, "because if *anyone* has eyes in Gotham, it's them." she adds.
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia nods, at John's refusal and takes it without rancor. "I hope you find those tears," she tells him. Again, she may not like the man, but nobody deserves a cough like that." She shakes her head, though. "The only telepath I know is a bitch, and would only help if there's something she'd get out of it," she says bitterly. "I'd really rather not try to get a hold of her if I can help it." If only she knew Jean or Betsy. She could probably enlist their aid.
John Constantine	John's leg bounces up and down, he lights another Silk Cut... his last burned down in the ashtray without much attention from him, odd that. Those faded denim blues of his come to rest on Lyida as if he might stare a hole through her.     ... intense that stare. Until those blue eyes widen just a bit. He tucks the cigarette between his lips and slides off his stool suddenly.     He snatches poor Lydia by the wrist; his grip firm, skin way too warm and dry. "Come with me..." he mutters as he drags her toward the door - and if not stopped, out it.     Method to his sudden bursts of madness, there's always one. Once outside, he does let her go, but commands... "Stay put."     He closes his eyes, no audible chanting, just his lips moving silently. He puts both hands together, in fists, at his chest, elbows out and makes a motion that mimics ripping something in two.     ... the result, a rift, a tear, not as big as the Bronx one, but big enough that it has the murderous dead - the Astral's shite here too - swarming to it immediately.     "Close it," he commands the poor girl. "Use your ectoplasm to close it. Don't just plug it, *close it*, use it to pull the edges together. Do it... before they get out!"     *ASSHOLE*     Chas follows, hot on their heals. "John! That's not fair, mate, stop it!"
Ruth Kincaid	Ruth's eyes widen in shock and confusion at the sudden motion. She blinks and looks around helplessly as Lydia gets dragged off. Her confusion only doubles at the whatever John's trying to do, until she notices the rift form. Then she swallows hard and plucks a paperclip off one of her wristbands and holds it threateningly pinched between thumb and forefinger. "HEY! Um... What?" She adds a few more held between her other knuckles.
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe looks at Chas, as John gets a wild hare, and then she slides off her seat too, to follow Chas and Ruth out of the bar and outside; whatever John's doing seems like he's going to need to be beyond his own wards to do it.     "John! /John/!" she calls out, but she stops at the door, somewhat to block anything from trying to get in, and she pulls a spark of Light to her hand, curling her fingers around it in case, gritting her teeth a moment.     "Oh my god, he /is/ like this all the time."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia suddenly finds herself dragged outside with a squeak of surprise and a "Wha...?" She stands there dumbfounded as John opens a rift before her. "What the hell are you doing?!?" she yells at him. But her reaction is swift. First she throws out a hand, and her mists solidify and flow into the tear to plug it. "Close it?" she asks, trying to swallow her panic. She looks back at the rift and starts thinking. "Um... Um... Pull the edges together. Right." She reaches out with her second hand and she bites her lower lip in concentration. a pair of tendrils, like sewing threads, leak out of the mass of ectoplasm and weave back and forth, back and forth, stitching up the tear in reality like you would a tear in your favorite shirt. When the threads have woven themselves from bottom to top, the ends drift into Lydia's outstretched hand, which she grips and then /pulls/ causing the rift to close. Her teeth are clenched in a grimace of concentration as she does this, and when done, she lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding and pants, trying to get the wind back in her sails. "That..." she says, resting her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. "Don't /do/ that."
John Constantine	The rift isn't a natural thing, it doesn't want to be there, it's not supposed to be there... the veil has a reason, a purpose and, indeed, all it takes is getting the two edges to meet and it does what it wants to do... it closes.     "Had to see if my hunch was right, luv and if you could do it under pressure." That friends, the first bit, Synchronicity at her finest - a hunch, an urge, a nudge, a need to do this now rather than that. It's a Wave John chose to ride; he rarely denies them, the urges and the hunches. When he does, he generally finds things have gone Epic Bad as a result.     But just that, casual, no big deal...     He turns to head back inside with a, "Now you can close one if you have to, but expect the bigger ones to be much more difficult than that wee babe of one... and don't close until what's out is dead or back in."
Ruth Kincaid	Ruth hangs frozen and staring in the air for a while, and then without moving her head or changing her posture moves just her arm, to clip the paperclips back into place around her wrist. "John, if you ever try to teach me something that way, I'm probably going to meteor strike you, and maybe the pub too. I thought I should say that now, before you got the bright idea to try it. And I'm purposefully not making that a promise, because you'd do it to get the meteor strike at some point if you knew you could count on it, wouldn't you?"
Phoebe Beacon	". . . well then y ou're probably not learning anything from John. Opportunity is a great teacher, John's just the textbook. But..."     Phoebe then turns to Ruth properly, her dark eyes setting on the floating girl, and she points to ruined buildings that were under repair. Bloodspatter on the sidewalk that hasn't been quite cleaned up yet.     And she takes a deep breath, and lets it out before she just stares at Ruth a moment.     "Well. The John Constantine School of Wizardry isn't for everyone, but damn girl you went real quick from 'teach me how to do charms' to 'I'm going to threaten with a Final Fantasy attack right outside your own bar like a goob.'" Phoebe points out.     "Maybe wanna be a /little/ more polite?"
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia glares daggers at John. "Mr. Constantine," she says, very pointedly using the name he dislikes so much. "If you ever do that to again I will punch you." Big words for a woman who's usually so peaceful. She eyes where the rift was warily. "That took a lot out of me," she says, finally getting her breath. "I don't know if I can close something much bigger." She eyes John, "That doesn't mean I won't try, but I may have to call in backup."
John Constantine	"It's *John*," he corrects again before he spins on Lydia before they make it back inside. "You want *my* help? Then it comes *my* way. For the moment, Ruth's threats are ignored. His attention is solely on Lyida.     This time the murmured words are a little louder, but still not quite audible or discernible; the tearing motion a little more intense, the rift a little bigger.     "Close it!"     ASSHOLE     Chas, watching from the stairs leading down into the bar, "John! Enough!"     John turns, "No... she can *do* this!" he spits back at the best mate between Heaven and Hell and all the places between.     "Don't just use the ecotplasm, us your *will*. That's all magic is, your *will* turned into words and scribbles on the ground. Channel it, into your ectoplasm. Do it! Use your *magic*!"
Ruth Kincaid	Ruth just sounds... tired at this point. "I went from let's save everyone from the rifts and stop whatever's making them to oh look there's a guy opening the rifts. And then I didn't try to throw a paperclip through him. But yes, I do seem to have learned my lesson about asking to learn magic from people I barely know, and standing up to the cops for them just because I see them do a good deed. I-- Yeah. Good luck with this mess. I'm gonna just go... deliver pizzas or something for a while." THWIP-gone.
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe recoils a little bit as the girl zips of, and she turns to Chas, and then to John again, and claps the bartender on the shoulder.     "Well. When he's done traumatizing this one, let him know my middle name is Amelia." she states, turning and looking to her phone, and giving a sigh. "I've got a friend in need."     And she ducks back into the pub, in order to go out the back way to where her bike is parked.     Gotham Calls.
Lydia Dietrich	"Fuck!" The curse escapes Lydia's lips before she can help herself as a second rift opens. The combat training that Mystique has been putting her through is really helping out with her reaction times and keeping things together when shit gets real. A hand flies out and twin tendrils sew up the sides again, but before she pulls them closed she closes her eyes and concentrates. She isn't able to focus her will into her ectoplasm directly, so she does it indirectly. She starts to sing and ancient Jewish hymn praising God and asking him to bless her for the hard tasks she's about to perform. She channels these words, this song, into the threads, and the green glow brightens and filaments of gold weave its way through it. It's not just will that she's pouring into her ectoplasm but /faith/, and sometimes that can be just as powerful. Slowly the wound in reality starts to close, as she grips onto the ectoplasmic threads, straining as if she was playing tug-of-war with an elephant. Sweat starts to bead on her forehead as she sings, and she's almost there. Almost. "John," she says, almost pleadingly, trembling with effort, "I can't.... "
John Constantine	"You *can*," John insists. He's behind her, so she won't see the grimace, the little bit of actual pain her faith causes him when it calls to the demon blood in his veins.     "Close it! Is your faith so little?" he taunts. "That it can't even close this tiny tear?!" Not so tiny that tear, not as big as the Bronx nightmare, but big. Big enough for murderous spirits to come through by the more than one if she loses it.     Of course, he opened this one, so he could close it easily enough. A fact he's yet to make her aware.     Chas raises his voice again, "John, stop it! NOW!"     "Shut up, Chas! She CAN DO THIS!" John bellows back.     "Close it, LYDIA!"
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia grits her teeth, the prayer falling from her lips as she winds her hands around the ectoplasmic threads. She doesn't necessarily need to do it this way, but the visualization helps her control the ectoplasm. She drops down to one knee, and with a groan, almost a scream of effort, she /pulls/ on the threads, and slowly, ever so slowly, the rift closes. Once it's closed the ectoplasm poofs back into mist, quickly dissipating into the air, and Lydia rocks back onto her heels. She, then plunks down onto her butt, cradling her knees and starts to weep and shake as the adrenaline wears out of her body. As always, she's cool as a cucumber when a crisis is at hand, but she falls apart as soon as it's over.
John Constantine	Chas moves as if he's going to rush forward to Lydia.     John stops him in his tracks with an extended arm. "No."     His voice isn't harsh when he speaks to her, it's almost gentle, but firm. "You need to stand up, luv. You never know what's coming next. It's not over until you're safe, at home, in your own bed. Stand up."     Jaded and cynical? He sure is; but anyone that knows the story of is, relatively short, thirty-three years on this earth would know why.     "Another could open behind you." ... he could take it a step further, he could make that happen, but he doesn't, not this time. Next he might.
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia snorfles her nose, and nods, slowly getting to her feet, and wiping away the tears with the heel of her hand. "I hate you, you know," she says quietly. If she had the energy she probably would have followed through on her threat and punched him, but now it's just not worth the effort. She sniffles a bit and tosses her head to get locks of curly brown hair from her eyes and says, "We all have limits," she says firmly. "With practice I could do more, or do it better. But first time around?" She shakes her head. "I'm at my limit. I don't think I could even fly home at this point."
John Constantine	It's only after she's on her feet that John approaches. It's only then that she might notices the little blisters on his hands, his neck, his face... fading now that she's put her faith back in her pants. For all his religious bents with exorcisms, evil spirits and the like? The cross branded into his hand, the few of them he has tattooed on his body? His true magic lies in his will, holy *hurts*. He reaches out with a crooked finger to chuck it under her chin and lift her gaze to those tired, red-rimmed, denim blues of his, all dark circles and exhaustion.     "But you did it, luv. When you thought you couldn't and you'd do it again if you had to. When you truly need it, you'll find it. All you faithers always do."     Chas pipes up, quiet, maybe even a little subdued; John was right, she *could* do it. "You can crash upstairs, kid, with me and Phoebe. I'll take the couch, you can have my room."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia looks into John's blue eyes with her hazel ones and nods, with a chuckle at being called a 'faither'. "I suppose we do," she admits. She takes a deep breath and takes a step back from John, turning to Chas. "I appreciate the offer," she says, "But after this I /really/ want to go home to my girlfriend. Don't worry. I've got a way. I don't like bothering her like this but she won't mind." She pulls out her phone and dials a number. "Clarice? Can you lock onto my coordinates and bring me up to the Asteroid? I'm in desperate need of a nap." It doesn't take long for a purple ringed hole in reality opens up, creating a portal between the two places. "I'll see you around, John," she says, raising a hand in departure, stepping through the portal. As soon as she's gone the portal blinks close.
John Constantine	"That was kinda cruel, John," Chas chastises as he claps this old friend on the shoulder.     "Worked didnit?" John replies. "Gotta get'm ready in case Lara doesn't come through. It's on that rather pragmatic thought, that he turns and heads down the steps and back into the bar. Nothing like a little imminent death lurking to spark a fire under a man's ass to teach the 'next generation' before he's gone, is there?