Owner	Pose
Chas Chandler	Chas sits on the cot in his makeshift cell at the back of the Backroom of the Laughing Magician. He looks terrible. His hair is matted, the circles under his eyes are a testament to how much actual rest he's gotten, and the few stains on his shirt say that feeding has been difficult at best given his state.     The black chains--more emptiness incarnate than colored--wrapped around him likely don't help matters when it comes to rest, sleep or otherwise. Still he sits, his head resting against the wall of the room. The cord, usually tieing his hair back has become loose, allowing long wavy brow locks to stray free and frame his rugged face.     Usually there is a friendly smile on that face, but that was before he made a terrible mistake that resulted in 10 lives on his hands.
Zatanna Zatara	Zee, if asked, will tell you she has felt a sense of dislocation since they had to summon chains of inestimable power to lock down their long-time friend, Chas. Walking down a long flight of winding steps into a damp dungeon would do justice to how opening the door feels. In the bar, she hides her feelings behind an impassive mask, not allowing the fear of what she might find when she opens the door to show. Guilt and a need to justify the strength of the measures they took are her shield. Ten deaths that she doesn't wish to lay at his door is adequate reason. Unlike many of them involved in that night, Zee has gone home, rested, bathed and eaten and changed to more of the black tailored clothing from Japanese designers that she favors. "Hello, Chas," said quietly. "How are you doing?"
Chas Chandler	Chas looks to the new guard and shrugs. "About as good as I look, Zatanna." He shifts a bit, the chains making no sound as they shift with him. "Or at least that's how I feel. Yourself?' he asks, "I didn't hurt you when I was..." He makes a face.     Phoebe's letter to him didn't go into detail about his actions only that he had fought them. The entire thing, from the killings to the fights were all a haze to him. Like a bad a dream that he couldn't wake up from or remember much besides the general tone.
Zatanna Zatara	"No," shaking her head emphatically, "Not at all. Scared the hell out of me a few times but no. I'm sorry you even have to ask." She stops a few feet from him - out of wing striking distance. Aware of the tension in her shoulders, she pulls her shoulders back to stretch, still focused on him. "Are you hungry or thirsty? Or need the rest room?" She can't imagine being chained under any circumstances, least of all his.
Chas Chandler	Chas chuckles wryly. "No. I don't need to do any of that anymore, Zatanna." He looks at her and she can tell there is a haunted gleam in his blue eyes. At least they were blue now, instead of the solid gold of the thing inside him. "I don't need to eat. Sleep. Piss. Shit. None of it. It seems that what I invited decided those actions were... unecessary." He laughs, bordering on the side of hysterics.     "You know... I did it thinking I could help people. Instead, there are people out there who didn't deserve to die and the last thing they saw was... me." He slams his head against the wall, wincing in pain. From the slight discoloration of the area it looks like it's something he's done quite a few times already. "I'm such a fool."
Zatanna Zatara	On a long inhale, the magician digests Chas's words. With a sideways tilt to her head, she nods sadly. "Of course, it is not from this plane of existence." After a pause, she takes the chair and pulls it to where she was standing, "It's something anyone who can wield power can fall prey to, Chas. It...it's why magic should be transmitted person to person, teacher to student, to combat egregious...to combat decisions like you made." She looks away from him, then down at the ground, those glimpses of the other being make her dislike the man and the human in him does not deserve it.
Chas Chandler	Chas chuckles again. "That's how this whole thing started though, isn't it?" he says, the haunted look still in his eyes. "I'm no magician," he says. "I'm not even capable of a sputter of power. I got 48 souls bound up in my head, a tattoo that keeps me free from interference--unless it comes from the source of the tattoo, and a ton of knowledge about how to do a great many things... but no power of my own."     "So I went and did what I'm good at. I read. I read and read and read and then I found it." He snorts softly. "I found a simple little spell that said it would summon an benevolent spirit to give the summoner power to assist those it wanted to help. I've never been able to summon anything before so I read the incantation and..." he shudders, the chains still silent against him. "...and it worked. I got a spirit of benevolence that gave me power. So. Much. Power. More than I deserved. More than I asked for. More than... more than anyone should have."
Zatanna Zatara	"Let me paraphrase, Gandalf.'Never meddle in the affairs of wizards..' She shrugs, a palpable sadness in the gesture, in the soft frown flattening her mouth. "We can be subtle and quick to anger because spells are such dangerous, beguiling things. It would have turned any of us, Chas, if that is a comfort to you. Again, I am so sorry that this happened to you."
Chas Chandler	"That's the thing Zatanna..." Chas replies fixing her with his bloodshot blue eyes. "It didn't turn on me. It did exactly what I asked it to. I can feel it's motivations. I can sense what it wants to do and..." he says. Making a point to use the present, not past. "In a way, I have to agree with it. Logicially, what it is doing, is the right answer."     He shakes his head. "But... humans aren't logical beings. We are filled with emotions and prejudices and societal bonds that it... that it doesn't even recognize. To it sinners are punished... and it is going to wipe the slate clean. It said that didn't it?" he asks and his voice changes a bit, an emulation of the tone of the Holy being in him. "'The Great Experiment has failed. I will wipe the slate and ask My Father to start it anew.'"     He looks around the room, the gesture encompassing more than just the room, the bar, the city, the country... encompassing all things. "Creation is the Great Experiment, Zatanna, and it feels that somewhere along the way, it broke and so it has to fix it."
Zatanna Zatara	"It sounds like an AI built by geniuses that turns on mankind to wipe their irrational thinking away. No room for love or forgiveness or the light of love in a child's eyes." Leaning forward, she turns her clear regard on him in silence before saying, "Do you really believe that creation broke or was it our vision of it?" Fearful of the anger, she might provoke in the being, she pauses to weigh her next words, "Do you really think we should wipe everything to zero and start again?"
Chas Chandler	Chas shakes his head. "I don't. But it does." He frowns. "It's all mixed in. I asked it to help clean up the world. To stop the problems here and beyond and then... and then it took over and did just that. It circled the globe in..." He shudders. "It's hard to explain, Zatanna. I watched from behind its eyes as it travelled the extent of the universe in 10 seconds and in another 10 decided that what was created wasn't the right answer to the Great Question."     He shudders again. "I don't even know what The Great Question is... but it's what Creation is meant for. To answer it. And this...existence doesn't confer an answer. Or at least not an answer it's content with." He looks down. "All of the universe in 10 seconds. How am I still in one piece? I shouldn't be able to contain something that big. Something that... immense."
Zatanna Zatara	Secretly, careful to keep her face impassive, Zatanna prays for all the benevolent beings of the universe to help Chas rid himself of this thing. "I hope we can bind him to the place he belongs which is not here. And soon, you physically, you Chas, need rest and peace."
Chas Chandler	Chas barks out a laugh full of scorn. "I need a fucking prison cell in Hell is what I need, Zatanna. I've killed ten people. Ten people who didn't deserve it... well... maybe some of them did, but defintiely not all of them" he shakes his head. "And for what, so an Angel of the Lord can kick start the Apocalypse?"     "People that do what I've done don't get peace, Zatanna... they get fire and brimstone and damnation" he says. "I touched something I shouldn't have and I have to pay for that with my soul."     He blinks, something clearly dawning on him. "That... that might work. Zatanna... I... I need you to kill me. I need you to kill me thirty-eight times. That way I won't be a suitable host for it anymore and it might go away."
Zatanna Zatara	Straightening, Zee bites the inside of her lips, furious with herself. She summons a denial, "You are no more guilty of what happened than a child who lets the handbrake off a car that rolls into an innocent pedestrian. You did not make this being but summoned it. Damnable, granted but not to be punished by death. This thing inside of you doesn't care whether it tears your soul into tiny pieces, Chas so the punishment is not yours."
Chas Chandler	Chas shakes his head. "But... no. If I'm dead then... then it won't have a host frame anymore. Right?" he asks. "Kill me and you all will be free. I'll be gone but..." he laughs that same madness indicating laugh. "The lives of many are greater than the lives of the few, right? I'm..." he swallows. "I'm willing to die to save you all."     He smiles at the woman. "And I trust you, Zatanna. You've always been a good friend. I trust you can make it painless if you wanted to. Just... quick succession. Boom boom boom. CLose to forty times. Might as well make it forty, just to be sure, right?" His hand twitches like he wanted to move it but the chains holding him prevent such action.
Zatanna Zatara	The chair scrapes as she pushes it back to stand, "I'm sorry it won't be that easy for the being to get itself loose. Kill you and it will leap to someone else. I have the feeling that it /likes/ being so powerful among us little mortals. No." Her blues eyes dim with unshed tears before she turns to leave. "I'm sorry, Chas," she calls over her shoulder as she turns to leave.