Owner	Pose
Chas Chandler	Being on edge is fine and well for those who work with dangerous forces. Witchblade is a dangerous force. The Archivist is a dangerous force. The entirety of SHIELD is a dangerous force. So it is probably standard procedure for Cael Becker to be on edge. But there are forces that are greater than that and can overcome even the most alert and attentive individuals.     For Cael, tonight is the night that she encounters a force of that caliber. One moment she was in her apartment, and then... warmth, light, and then ultimately darkness. There is a sense of something being severed. The connection between Cael and the ghost of her sister Alis. The residual feeling of the ghost being jerked to a secondary thether elsewhere.     There is the sensation of being carried always in that warmth. It's almost soothing if not for the darkness and disorientating speed of the travel. A soothing voice whispers into Cael's mind. <Do not worry child, soon you will be free of your burdens and you can become part of something greater than anything you could dream.>     When she wakes, she finds herself in an unknown room. The area is large, maybe 900 feet square, with a high ceiling and mostly bare of anything else. There are only the dimest of lights inside, small pools of gold that seem to come from bowls set in the ground. There is a cot, (where she is lying), a single chair of some solid wood construction and little else. No doors. No windows. Nothing to give evidence to where she is.
Cael Becker	She'd had the strangest dream - that's Cael's first thought and sensation as she starts to stir. The strangest dream, that was both soothing, and disturbing - warmth, and yet loss - as she shifts on the unfamiliar cot.     The smells... are wrong. The feeling is wrong. This is //not// her bed, not her home, and she had no recollection of going to sleep somewhere else, on the job. She pushes herself up abruptly, her gaze searching around the cavernous, dimly lit, empty space. What the fuck? Remaining silent, her hand instinctually going to where she often keeps her weapon - but nothing is there. Fuck. She realizes she's dressed for bed - wearing only soft, flannel pants and an oversized shirt. Not very helpful.     Whatever was going on, this was bad, and she needs to leave. Moving as quietly as she can, she starts to circle the room, checking the walls for hidden doors - and keeping her eyes open for anything she can use as a weapon. There //has// to be a way out of the room...
Chas Chandler	"You're wasting your time" comes a voice from back near the cot. It's a familiar voice. One she's heard before. A figure steps into one of the pools of golden light. He's a large man, dressed in dark jeans and a grey turtleneck with a dark wool coat over it. Heavy boots hit the floor with each step and his long hair is tied back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.     It's Chas Chandler. The bartender from the Laughing Magician.     Only, something is different. Chas' eyes were blue and normal looking. The figure before her eyes golden eyes. And not just the irises, the entire orb in the socket is golden and looks more like a liquid than solid. "Hello, Cael" he says with a soft smile. "I provided you with a chair. You should sit" he says, gesturing to the solid mahogany chair nearby. "It will be so much easier for you if you take it."
Cael Becker	"'Take it'?" Cael repeats, taking a few steps back, seeking out the darkness even as the figure steps into the light. Not bloody likely. "What the fuck does that mean? Take what?" she counters. Her gaze continues to flick around the room - searching for any more figures lurking in the darkness. Seeking an exit. Seeking a weapon.     "What's going on here, Chas?" She can see the eyes - how strange and unnatural they look - but she remains uncertain. Is it the man? Or some sort of imposter? How could she possibly know? She's met him all of- what? Twice?
Chas Chandler	"Your judgement" Chas(?) replies with the same soft smile. "You hide behind the Eagle. Behind the sheild. But you are as guilty as the rest of your kind." The shake of his head is that of a disappoinited father.     "As for what is going on here? It should be quite obvious... I am judging you, as I have ten others before you." He waves a hand in the air and the strange gold-white symbols from the alley the week before appear. Ennocian script. "Oh... allow me?" he says and another gesture and the script shifts and contorts into English: "You are close but still so far. Perhaps one of you is fit to be judged by my hand."     "You are the one fit for it, Cael" he says with a sad smile. "And the time for it is now. Now come, *sit*." There is a note of command to his voice. An edge of anger. "I do not want to have to force you. It is so tedious and... I imagine you will suffer enough with the task before us."
Cael Becker	...shit.     "Fuck you, asshole," Cael counters, her heart thudding in her chest. "I've been judged, already - by America's courts. You have no authority over me." She doubts that arguement will hold any sway over this being - after all, so many of its previous victims had also been judged by the courts, prior to facing their fates.     With no sign of any escape in the walls, her gaze starts searching the floor for some sort of hatch, stepping heavily as she searches for any change in tone. As the same time as one of her particularly loud steps she asks quietly, "Alis?" Where is her sister? Can she be sent for help, to Sara? What other chance does she have?
Chas Chandler	"Courts? Fundamentally flawed institutions where those who cause harm are imprisoned and cared for, *pampered* even, before being set free to do harm once more?" Chas laughs, a heartfelt and pure thing. He shakes his head. "No. That judgement was nothing compared to what you truly deserve. What you and so many others like you deserve."     He smiles again. "You know, the others had their own faults." He says moving between golden light bowl to darkness to golden light bowl. "Sara--her past locked behind doors and mirrors. Judging her wouldn't do any good. Jon with his past with it's dark secrets. But he destroys himself enough that my judgement will not hurt him as much as others. Lasariel. Sweetness and light and uncertainty mixed into a pretty little package. But her uncertainty alone insulates her."     "But you... so strong willed. So defiant. So determined to get involved despite everything allayed against you." He smiles. "And then *The Watcher* with his petty threat. Using words against me that I watched be given to those who spoken them from my Father. It all but sealed the deal. And upon viewing you all... you were the most suceptible. No Witchblade. No Watcher's Crown." He stops and fixes her with a golden gaze. "You are purely human... and that makes you all the more suceptible to my Father's will."     There are no cracks in the ground for a trap door either. The rool seems almost one solid object. Even the walls and ceiling seem to blend into one another. Her footfalls seem to hit solidity with each step. "Alis? Oh... the shade. I severed your connection to her. A nuisance that continues to persist beyond it's time. The restless wanders are sad and of no concern to me. They are beyond help and thus beyond even affecting anything I do." He gestures and the chair slides over the ground closer to Cael. "Now. Sit. I won't ask politely again."
Cael Becker	"I //reject// your judgement," Cael insists, circling slowly to mirror the angel's movements, and maintain her distance from it. "I will not participate. "I make up for my sins by living - by saving others from the world I found myself in. This... your judgement? Is a sham. A mockery. A perversion. So no - I won't be cooperating."     She'd heard the words of the statements - the stories of the pitiful spirits who had hammered nails into their own flesh, and allowed themselves to be maimed. Was there any hope Sara and the others realized what was going on? That she could be saved before she met the same fate?     Was there no way out of this cage?     "Why do you do this? Who brought you here?"
Chas Chandler	Chas chuckles again. "Ever the investigator, aren't we?" he says and spreads his hands to either side. "My host stands before you as I do. A tortured soul who sought to right the wrongs of the world. A pity he caught my attention, all things considered." He continues to walk from pool of light to pool of light. There are quite a few of them in the large room.     "Someone with more knowledge of what they were reading may have grabbed one of my lessers and in doing so may have even managed to bind that lesser being into subservience... but this..." he touches his chest. "So much heart. So much pain. So much sorrow. He called to me and asked only one thing: fix his world. And that is what I am doing. I am fixing it. One soul at a time. After all, what is time to one such as I?"     The golden eyes glow brighter, filling the room with bright light. "I am done asking. You will sit!" he says with command. There is a flash of orange light from the area around Cael's chest and the figure takes a step toward the chair before stopping himself.     "That's not..." he says, confusion on his features as the light dims once again, before it blooms into a smile. "Clever, clever, Watcher." He laughs loudly, the sound echoing off the walls and filling the space with a cacophony of sound.
Cael Becker	"If you wish to fix the world - why attack someone who is also trying to fix the world?" Cael counters. As the glow brightens, she finds her gaze turning away, blinking back the brilliance that temporarily blinds her.     Is that really the bartender's body - but inhabited by that monster? He'd somehow summoned the thing in error? If it was simply his body - then could it be assaulted? Disabled? Would that do anything to stop the angel, or would she harm the man for nothing?     But if that's what it took to stop this thing from killing more people, //including herself//...     She starts slowly circling towards the chair now as she asks, "Doesn't your 'Father' teach forgiveness? Especially for those who realize their mistakes and regret them?" She was dragged to church enough times, by enough foster parents to know some of this shit, after all.
Chas Chandler	"Forgiveness can be earned... yes" Chas replies. "But that path has become too simple. Too easy to beg for forgiveness only to turn away fromthe righteous path... cult leaders, philanderers... heretics... all claim to be doing God's work, only to turn to greed, lust, excess..." He shakes his head. "No... the Prophet offered a path to heaven, but mortals corrupted that path moments before the worlds left his lips."     He narrows his eyes at Cael and asks, "What did The Watcher give you? What sort of *token* is this age's Watcher attempting to utilize to protect those he cares for? That's why you're here after all." He says matter of factly. "I would've gone for him alone... but no..." he shakes his head, "he wanted to protect you. What better message to send to him and his kind then, than to take the one he saw fit to protect... and bring them to my *justice.*"
Cael Becker	"His lucky penny," Cael replies in a cool, dry tone. "And I swallowed it. You'll have to wait for me to shit it out," she remarks.     Is it smart to antagonize the angel? Probably not. But God damnit, if this //thing// is going to come at her, she's going to treat the little bastard like it deserves to be treated.     Her steps slowly as she near the chair, willing the being to make its way closer to her as she glares at it in defiance. "You're the one who's wrong, you know. You're the one who's sick, and twisted, and morally corrupt. No one deserves the things you do to them. No one."
Chas Chandler	Chas face twists in anger. "Speaking the words of the Prophet and yet failing to recognize the words that came before him..." he says stalking toward her. "Punishment of the divine is absolute. Does Sodom and Gomorrah teach you nothing? Wickedness has spread over this Earth like a plague. Man turns against man every day... there is little peace and even less goodwill to each other. It is a failed experiment... and I am empowered by my Father to see it is finished."     "I tire of your games... I will see what he has given you" Chas gestures again and gold-white light flickers out from his fingertips toward Cael's neckline, seeking for the source of the power that protected her from the angel's previous manipulation. "And I will take it from you."
Cael Becker	"I'm telling you," Cael grits out as it stalks towards her - closer, closer... a little closer, "I SWALLOWED the fucking thing!" She snatches up the chair now, swinging with it for all she's worth, with ever ounce of adrennaline fueling her body - as she attempts to smack it against the side of Chas' head. She feels the briefest pang of sympathy for the man - but she has no room for hesitation.     She takes down Chas and the angel - or she ends up nailed to a cross, waiting for Sara to free her spirit from the shackles, waiting for Sims to take her statement - and she won't allow that fate for any of them.
Chas Chandler	Chas raises a hand, looking unperturbed by her attack and the chair simply stops in mid-air; all force of the swing stolen from it. "Child... you think that I would allow something created by my hand to harm me?" he asks. A waves and the chair turns to less than dust, atomized to it's base structure. With a snap of his fingers the chair forms anew behind the woman.     The bartender moves forward with inhuman speed--something he should not have--and pushes at the woman's chest with inhuman strength--another aspect of him that he should not possess. "You *will* sit and you *will* listen while I mete out judgement upon you." Another command, this one more forceful than the last and the talisman Jon provided her flashes with orange light again, though there is a distinct smell of burning hemp and ozone in the air. "The Watcher is strong. Unfortunately, I am far stronger."
Cael Becker	"FUCK!" Cael screams in frustration as the chair is halted - and simply fades from her hands. She can't fight this, she despairs, as she's shoved back. How can she fight this, with no magic? With no gifts? She would be staked out for her friends to find - to make them suffer.     This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare. This has to be one of her fucking nightmares. Doesn't it?     "You cannot judgement!" she screams futiley in the angels face, as a few rogue tears streak down her cheeks. "I won't accept it!" She's been sparing with Cap - sparing with someone faster, and stronger than her. Trying desperately to learn how to protect herself against people with enhanced abilities - and she relies on that training now, reaching for the angels arm, trying to use his own enhanced momentum to pull him forward, and flip him over her back, to the floor.     She can't give up.
Chas Chandler	Maybe it was the woman's training, after all Captain America was no pushover. Or maybe it was simply adrenaline, after all Chas is a bigger and heavier man than even the Star Spangled Man with a Plan. Either way, she manages to actually succeed. Chas' face looks surprised as it's drawn in and thrown over her shoulder when he hits the ground he scatters to dust.     "Impressive..." comes his voice from the far end of the room. "Your tenacity, at the very least, should be commended." He says moving into a pool of gold light looking untouched. "It seems that you are not as pliant as my previous victims... we can fix that" he says and raises a hand.     Some unseen force collapses around Cael's body, pressing her garments flat against her skin, bringing her arms to her sides and her legs together, before raising her into the air as if on unseen strings. Whatever massive hand has hold of her is *incredibly* strong (even memories of the alter-ego of Bruce Banner's grasp on her are dwarfed by whatever is holding her), all but squeezing the life from her as Chas moves forward. "I can't invade your mind yet... but your body is still as vulnerable as any mortal."     He stops and raises a hand. "Let us see what power The Watcher tried to enforce against me?" he asks, more of those golden tendrils reach for the necklace around her neck, the source of the protective force shielding her mind from intrusion.
Cael Becker	No... "NO!" Cael struggles, trying to force or twist her way free - to no avail. She can't move - she can barely force breath into her lungs, making her voice weak and thready after that first cry of protest.     Maybe he'll crush the life out of her, before she can be crucified? It would be better that way.     "This is wrong," she grits out. "You're wrong. You're petty, and twisted, and cruel - and worse than I ever was. Fuck you." She's limp in that unseen hand, her eyes closed. There is nothing she can do to stop what is happening to her.     It has to be one of her nightmares.     "Fuck you," she repeats. "They're going to stop you. I'm not going anywhere," she struggles to draw another breath, "until they do..."
Chas Chandler	Chas smiles as the golden tendrils of energy reach out and take hold of the talisman around Cael's neck. "They will try... but like you, they don't know what they are truly dealing with. They think they are looking for a madman when in fact I am quite sane..."     The talisman is tugged from around her neck, the leather cord snapping with a small click and floats to hover before Chas. "A serviceable trinket... but ultimately... like everything else..." with a flick of his wrist the talisman goes sailing to a corner of the room, "futile."     The eyes of the being before Cael flare again and there is a seething feeling of something else entering her mind, its a slow thing, not a full overwhelming presence but it's there. <You've trained yourself against intrusion? Fascinating...> a soothing voice that is not Chas' says. <Why do you still resist? Even knowing that I have stripped you of protection and it is simply a matter of time?>
Cael Becker	Cael tries to laugh, but it ends up as little more than two breathy exhilations, before she's struggling to inhale again against the vise that still grips and suspends her. "You're not sane," she manages.     Her eyes follow the talisman as it is flung away, despair and desperation on her features. Without it, all that remains is her natural stubborn determination - she hasn't a lick of any real training. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to recall what Sims had said about keeping intrusions out of your mind. Hadn't he said something about annoying songs...?     There's a moment of futile grasping before something pops to the forefront of her mind. This is the song that never ends, it just goes on and on my friend...
Chas Chandler	The soothing voice in her mind chuckles. <A nice trick and useful for most beings that may want to control you> it says, <But my kind *invented* music... there is nothing about your rhyme that will deter me from finding what I seek.>     There is more soft probing of the external passages of Cael's mind. Like soft fingers feeling across a rock face for purchase. <Relax... all you must do is submit and I can give you peace...> it croons. <Rest. Is that such a price to pay for rest? You have wandered and struggled for so long... I offer solace and succor amongst the breast of that which Loves you.>
Cael Becker	Lies. Lies. She knows what waits for her - she heard the statements. Pain, and torture, and eternal torment - shackled and bleeding - until her friends can find and free her. It's a lie...     One day we started singing it not knowing what it was, and we keep on singing it forever just because this is the song that never ends...     Even as she continues to struggle, as she clings to the knowledge of what is coming should she submit... there is a part of her that despairs. A part of her that has struggled, and suffered - not just tonight, but for entire, bitter life. A part of her that would welcome peace, and warmth, and comfort - that longs to feel loved...     It's a lie, she tells herself again. You know it's a lie. Abruptly, she begins jerking once more at the force that holds her - but finds it unyielding.
Chas Chandler	The soothing voice starts singing *with* Cael in her mind. <...It goes on and on my friends...> The voice is possibly the most heartbreakingly beautiful sound that Cael has ever heard. It reaches into the depths of the soul and tugs on strings that humanity has all but forgotten. There is a sense of unfathomable pride and joy in the creations of God in the voice. Happiness that humanity even exists and hope for their continued prospoerity. Each note is perfectly hit and rings with that sense of eternal praise.     <What you saw happened because they resisted...> the voice says, even as the song continues with its duet harmony, <if you release yourself... your passing will not be as torturous or as prolonged. Why don't you understand that. Give yourself over and the Hands of God will ease your passing from this plane to your place of eternal peace.>
Cael Becker	"Please, don't..." Cael whispers.     A part of her still rails against the inevitable. Don't give up! Don't give in! Don't let this monster turn you into one of those pitiful shades! But that voice grows quieter, moment by inexorable moment, as tears begin to fall. Tears of fear, and desperation, and despair that slowly - bit by bit, somehow transform to tears of relief, and release, and longing - and awe at the beauty, and the wonder of this moment. Of this being. The joy that she was seen, noticed... chosen.     "Please..." she whispers again.
Chas Chandler	With the second plea the warm energy rushes into Cael's mind. It fills her like water in a desert, like a warm fire in the midsts of a blizzard, like the most perfect filling meal at the end of a fast. It's goodness and light and relief incarnate.     Beyond the mind the woman's body lowers to the ground, the crushing pressure releasing her. Tendrils of golden light seep in and around the woman's head, fluttering her hair on their near invisibile strands of energy.     "Please... sit..." says Chas' voice to her form. The feel of command isn't there, it's a request, but one the woman will be all the more inclined to follow given the circumstances of her mind in the angel's hands.
Cael Becker	As she's released, Cael drops naturally into a kneeling position, gazing up at the being with teary, wonder-filled eyes. She still struggles to breath - but now for entirely different reasons as she takes in shaking, gasping breaths, overwhelmed by the glory.     Sit? It felt wrong to sit in the presence of such marvel, but he would not have asked it, if it were not perfectly correct - so she relocates to the chair on shaking legs, sinking into it as requested.     "I'm sorry," she feels compelled to say. "I'm sorry. I couldn't see - I didn't know..."
Chas Chandler	The voice in her mind echoes Chas' own creating a strange overlay of otherworldly and worldly tones. <"It is quite alright, child"> they say, waving a hand and conjuring a chair opposite of Cael for themselves to take as a seat. <"Most cannot understand that I bring peace for the transgressions of the past... freedom from the burdens of society... reast for those who feel they have trangressed against their fellow man.>"     The probing tendrils in her mind seem to touch on something. <Ah... here we are... your first crime of great worth...> the memory of it is drawn inexorably to the forefront of the woman's mind. Playing in Dolby Surround for it's audience of two.
Cael Becker	The images that rise in their minds show the memory of Shelley (long before she ever became 'Cael') and Alis - quietly breaking a glass sliding door, before unlocking it and sliding the door open. The crime is ineligant to put it mildly - but they were recent runaways, and hungry. The home they were entering was empty, they knew - the woman who lived there was elderly, and recently committed to a home. Her children hadn't yet had time to come and clean out their mother's home. She was a kind old woman - Miss Susan - who lived only a few door down from their foster home and who had periodically paid them for help with simple chores. Shelley liked the woman, but they were desperate for money, and for food, so as guilty as it made her feel - did the woman really need her money, and her baubles now?     She pulls out her cellphone, using it light her way only to have Alis hiss at her quietly, "Someone will see it! Turn it off." Quickly complying, the girls creep through the house, checking drawers (where they find some jewelry they hope to pawn), and looking in the freezer (where they each take an ice cream, but find no loot), before finally finding several hundred dollars tucked into the pages of the woman's book collection. Enough money to last them a while, if they can find a cheap enough place to crash!     "We have enough. Let's go," Shelley says nervously, listening anxiously to the sound of a car driving past in front of the house, before the two girls creep out the way they'd come, climbing over a fence and running several blocks away from the house.
Chas Chandler	The soothing voice, presumably of the angel echoes in the recesses of Cael's mind. <A pety thing, but still damaging... perhaps the children of the wooman could have used such money to help pay for her medical bills? Or her funeral? Or any number of expenses to help her ailing body?> he says softly. <But that did not matter to you and your sister, did it? Survival after all should be given to the youth, not to those who are old and infirm. Perhaps, your way was correct by the law of common sense... but your kind have long since discarded such things. What you did was a crime and must be punished accoridingly.>     In the physical realm, golden light surrounds Cael's hands and an intense burning sensation can be felt. It's so hot that it's hard to determine if it's comforting or painful, lingering somewhere in between. Parts of the woman's skin start to blister at her fingers and knuckles, the taught skin bursting with soft audible pops.     Back inside her mind, the memory of the first theft slides away and another comes to the forefront. <Another crime, another victim, let us see what it is you have done...> says the soothing voice as it pulls and bubbles the memories forward.
Cael Becker	Cael gasps at the strange ecstasy of pain coming from her hands, but she cannot see the blisters forming as tears of guilt and shame stream down her features - that she would have so callously and selfishly mistreated Miss Susan, after the old woman's many kindnesses to her. "It was wrong," she agrees in a quiet voice. So wrong, and the pain of that tears at her more viscerally than it had even the night they'd committed the crime.     The next scene shows Shelley as she walks the streets at night alongside another youth - both of them dressed in hoodies. She'd spent the last few weeks learning, as the boy taught her how to find good cars to steal - he taught her which ones are the easiest to hotwire, with the most valuable parts, and the lowest possibility of having tracking devices in them. She'd practiced in the shop with the slim jim on a number of different cars until she'd gotten it down to an art, and then practiced breaking open the steering column to get at the ignition wires. This was her 'graduation' so to speak.     "Well. Which one?" he asks her in a quiet, non-commital voice.     She scans over the various cars parked in the residential neighborhood. She nods finally to a Honda Civic, glancing around before she approaches. The boy chats with her casually, from the other side of the car, as if simply waiting for her to unlock it as normal as she slides the slim jim in, and expertly pulls up the lock. She unlocks all the doors, and after a few moments at the steering column - manages to disable the alarm, and get the car started.     The pair are quickly driving away from the scene, while Shelley laughs with giddy elation in response to the adrenaline rush.
Chas Chandler	<A simple crime, after all... there are alternative methods of transportation> the voice in her mind says softly. <A pity you did not think beyond your actions. The man who that car belonged to? He was hit by a truck crossing the street the next day. The effects of one can have lasting consequencs on the many. Another must be repaid.>     More blistering boils rise, these on her feet, and pop in ecstatic agony. The list goes on and on, most of the woman's crimes are thefts of varying degree. Evasion of justice. Criminal mischief. With each crime the woman's hands and feet become more and more damaged and the litany continues. Crimes, victims, punishment. Over and over. Time has little meaning when it comes to the speed of thought they could've been there for ten minutes, or ten years given how the scenes continued to go.     <You have endured much, but I feel we come to the most recent of your crimes... let us see what this says for your fate, child> the voice croons as the tendrils of psychic energy bring the most recent transgression against humanity to the mind's eye.
Cael Becker	Tears continue to streak down Cael's features as memory after memory assail here from the many crimes she committed as a youth - from helping hold up liquor stores, to the illegal street racing, to a seemingly endless number of car thefts. The only thing she ever voices is the occassional quiet, "Please..." or "I'm sorry..."     The memory that rises next is not one Cael visits often - if ever. It's too painful, and finally she voices something new, a quiet, "No..."     It's shortly after Alis' death, with the war between the Alhambras and the Loonies at a fever pitch. Shelley is a ball of grief, and rage - barely rational, and often drunk. That's when her friends decide it's time to get back at the Loonies for Alis' death. As the best driver in the crew, it's only natural that Shelley would be at the wheel - which is where she finds herself as they drive through the Loonies' neighborhood, the back of the SUV filled with other members of the gang, all of them armed. She knows where she's going - a house that's home to one of the gang members, that often serves as a hang-out spot for the Loony gang. Of course - the gang member that lives in that home doesn't live there alone - he lives there with his large, extended family.     That doesn't even register in Shelley's mind as the SUV pulls around a corner, slowing as the pass in front of the house while a party is raving. There are people all over the front yard and in the house as drinks are poured generously, and loud music plays. All the windows on the SUV are open, and there's soon one or two people hanging out of each window firing - even firing over ther top of the roof from the opposite side of the car.     Once they're past the house, everyone drops back into the SUV, and Shelley peels out of there, stopping several blocks away to switch vehicles - pulling off the false plates they'd rubber banded on before they go.
Chas Chandler	<Murder... the first of many crimes man visited upon their bretheren...> the voice says in Cael's mind. <While you didn't pull the trigger, you felt no remorese. They were responsible for the death of your sister after all. You were *right* to visit the same upon them. How many died that night? Do you even know? Did you even check to see?> he asks, the voice soothing and melodic in her head. <It is good that you brought this to light. Do you not feel lighter, giving confession to all that has befallen you in your life to one who can give proper comfort and forgiveness.>     In the waking world, Chas rises and gestures. At the gesture a large cross twelve feet tall by seven feet wide appears in the middle of the room. It isn't raised instead laying flat on the ground, waiting for its accused to lie upon it. "This is where you accept what you have done..." he says moving forward and holding out his hands. There are three rail spikes in one, and an old worn hammer in the other. "You've seen what is needed for peace. You know what must be done. Take the nails. Take the hammer. Accept your punishment with dignity and move into the next realm of peace everlasting."     Despite the mangled state of her hands and feet, the woman knows that she can do this final act of pennance and with its completion she can move into the next realm forgiven and free of her burdens.
Cael Becker	Cael has to blink away the tears to see what is offered to her - and rather than filling her with horror, she feels a desperate longing. A desire to finally be freed of her burdens - of the years of pain, and trauma, and guilt that have plagued her for seemingly her entire life. To rest at last, lightened of her sins - cleansed, for the first time in her life. "Yes," she agrees, rising to her blistered feet - they're an agony, though it doesn't register on her features, which instead smile beatifically at the angel. "Please. I've caused so much pain..." The memory of fighting this fate was a dim, incomprehensible memory. How could she not have seen how right this was? How necessary? How could she ever have believed she was just, and good, with so much to burden her soul?     Pain shoots up her arms as she takes the nails and hammer in blistered hands, and she moves willingly to the cross, setting down two of the nails, so she can position one of them over her calf. Each blow of the hammer sends intense, stabbing pain up her hand and arm, and from her calf, but she doesn't hesitate as she rams it home, tears of release falling with each blow. "Thank you. Oh, thank you..."     The second nail is hammered in with barely a pause after the first.     As she lifts the third, though, she looks to the angel in supplication. "How...?" she asks. "Please, I need to..." But how is she to hold it, and hammer it at the same time?
Chas Chandler	"Of course..." Chas says moving forward and taking the hammer from her. "That you hold it is assurance enough of your acceptance. You have done well, Shelley. All the sins of your past have moved on and with this act..." He raises the hammer over her wrist. Another spike appearing in his hand, the final nail obviously.     Words in an odd golden flowing script appear on the walls and the ground around Cael. It's similar to the words given from the crime scene where they found the shoplifter, but there are other aspects to it. A testament to her crimes. Her sentence made manifest. "With this I give you the first step, into eternity. Go with peace, child." And the hammer comes down.