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Tue Sep 30, 2014 10:19 pm
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StellaThomas says...



Sophie | First Class

"Yes I can cover you Tuesday... and Thursday night?! C'mon Aidan you're killing me... okay fine. Tuesday plus your call Thursday night but that's it... what? Who do you think I am? I am not doing that... yes we have done it before, and from what I remember, it was crap. Yeah? Yeah. Okay. Tuesday and Thursday night. You're a scumbag. Bye."

Brian's face barely moved a muscle until she pressed the hang up button. "Aidan's a scumbag," she explained.

"So I gathered."

Sophie wrapped her jacket tighter around her and looked up and down for the jet that was supposedly arriving to pick them up. "So where is this thing?"

"They're prepping it."

"Who else is coming?"

"Knox and Grae should meet us in Vegas."

"Oh fab," Sophie muttered. "Their last mission they nearly let a demon blow up the 307."

"Nearly," Brian said, holding up a finger. "In the lives of agents, there is a very distinct line between nearly and actually letting things happen. Oh look, plane's ready."

"What-" Sophie spun round. Behind her was a very sleek silver jet with no markings. It looked like a cigar case with wings. They probably served cigars on board in a plane that looked like that.

The steps were brought up and they got on board. "This is... how do we afford this?" Sophie said, staring at the luxury leather seats and the booby stewardess offering them whiskey on the rocks. Sophie took one and downed it, but the stewardess's expression didn't change, keeping her fake smile.

"Um, we don't. Most of our transport is more bockety. But we were short today, this is Director Grimm's personal jet."

"So she's his personal... never mind. Don't want to know." She blinked hard, but that image was never leaving her head.

Brian smirked. "Presumably, yes. But I kind of really did not need to think about that."

"Nobody ever needs to think about that."

This plane was so snazzy that the seats faced each other so you could have a conversation. It was just like a continuation of the lunchdate, Sophie guessed, but something made her feel more relaxed. Maybe it was that the lunchdate was being overshadowed by her actually going out into the field. Maybe it was excitement. Maybe it was whiskey. Who knew?!

"Fasten seatbelts please," said Director Grimm's personal - said the stewardess. "Prepare for take-off."

She sat down in her specially prepared seat. "No safety message?"

"Field agents don't really go in for safety," Brian said with a grin, "in case you hadn't noticed."

"Oh believe me I've noticed, because guess who your recklessness comes back to? The person who has to stitch you up at the end of the day. I mean - well, I mean, I guess you're... not that bad-" was that a compliment? Did that count as a compliment? "- but I mean after your team's last mission Jenson came back with a demon bite on his arm, how do you let that happen?"

"It happens. Sometimes you just don't have control of the situation."

"I just think you should all be a lot more careful," Sophie finished rather lamely. Then she frowned, realising that Jenson hadn't been recorded as going to the medicentre since. What if that wound was still festering?

Her stomach swooped as the plane took off and she smiled down as the world got smaller beneath them.

There was a slim silver laptop on the table which Brian opened and he typed in his credentials, only to get a large beep that sounded like "access denied." "Damn it," he swore. "I need to see the brief."

He tried again but to no avail. "Let me try," Sophie said, making grabby hands at the laptop.

He pushed it towards her doubtfully. "If my log-in won't work, I doubt yours will."

"No, but Mama's will." Brian made googly eyes. Sophie shrugged. "We all have her password in case of emergencies." She typed it in, and it binged open. "Where do I go now?"

"Missions > Briefs > should be the latest one there."

Sophie navigated through to the brief. "'Go to Vegas. Air demon thingy. Kill/otherwise get rid of. DO NOT PLAY BLACKJACK Kind regards, Grimm.'" She looked up. "Is this a joke?"

Brian shook his head. "Unfortunately no."

"How does the agency stay... I don't know. Alive?"

"Guns," Brian said. "Lots of guns."

It was as if they'd gone right back to lunch and the gun discussion, but something felt a whole lot more natural now as Sophie slipped back into conversation. Eventually they both quietened and Brian began to doze, as Sophie idly looked at the laptop, and decided it would be a good idea to order the patient in Bed #7's LFTs here because Aidan would definitely forget.

She went into the file entitled Bloodwork, and a list of completed studies came up. Sophie frowned, none of these were the ones she ordered - before she remembered that, of course, this was Mama's account.

At the top of the list was Jenson White.

She couldn't help it. She clicked in. Haemoglobin - 25, WCC- 0 - what. She double checked the name - it was him. And those were the supposed results What on earth...?

"What are you looking at?" Brian asked, clearly more awake than Sophie thought.

"Nothing," she said, closing the file and shutting the laptop as if it were about to explode. "Nothing. Go back to sleep," she said with her most reassuring smile.

God how many times had she used that line?
"Stella. You were in my dream the other night. And everyone called you Princess." -Lauren2010





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Blackwood says...



Jenson|Twenty-one Cars Later


“Nope. Not good enough. This one doesn’t feel right either.”

Jenson sighed at glanced at this watch. “Kite, it’s late. This place is going to close soon. Maybe we should continue this tomorrow.”

“No. No way. I am not getting back in that tin bucket. I told you when we got out last time we are never returning. I even pried off the number plates.” Kite swung the door open and stormed out of the car. In Jens’ opinion, it was nice, as nice as all the other twenty had been as well. Kite sure was picky.

“What else have you got, kid?” Kite snapped at the shivering boy, still sitting petrified in the passenger seat. He didn’t look much older than seventeen, and was most likely the owners kid; cursed with the task of accompanying these frustrating customers on the test-drives.

“Um...” He started, glancing hungrily toward the haven of the shop interior. “Let me go and ask the boss...”

“Hold up.” Kite’s ears had perked up as he took on the scent of prey. “That one over there, she’s beautiful. Lets test it now!”

“Oh... Okay I’ll go ask.”
“NAO!”
“Yes... sir.”

Jenson’s pocket beeped and he whipped out his phone. A message from base? He had already been back this morning, what more could Grimm want?

‘Get yo asses to the airport pronto.’ It read.

“Grim wants us.” Jenson moaned, secretly relieved that the car endeavour was now over.

“Too bad.” Kite snapped as he pulled himself into the new car. “Just ignore it. We are driving this baby.”

Jens knew he couldn’t argue and exhaustedly climbed into the back. The leather of the seats were soft, and the interior was fantastically designed. Was this one even in Kites price range? The engine purred to life.

“Fantastic.” Kite breathed, as they pulled out of the lot and cruised down the main street. Kites eccentric grin didn’t seem any more reassuring to the retail kid.

Jenson’s phone beeped angrily, this time the ring tone. Grim again. He answered the call, putting it onto speaker phone.

“Where are you dogs!?” Grimm barked. “Why didn’t you reply. I repeat, get yo asses to the airport.”

“Kite is keeping us busy. We can meet up with you tomorrow.” Jenson sighed into the phone.

“You get yo asses here NOW, or you tell Kite I’m releasing his resume for the entire office to see.”

Kite slammed on the breaks, sending all the cars patrons lurching forward. “Oh hell no. Where at the airport, Grimm? We’re on our way.”

“Private gate 2. You better be, my second plane is taking off in seven minutes.”

“Don’t worry, this baby will get us there with time to spare.” Kite replied smugly.

“You have to return the car, we can’t drive all the way to the airport.”

“Don’t worry it will be fine. What’s-his-name... Sammy here can drive it back, can’t you Sammy?”

“I... I suppose.” He stuttered. Kite revved the engine, wheeling around and pulling onto the highway.

“We don’t make it in seven minutes.” Jenson cynically pointed out.

“Oh we will.” Kite grinned.



What proceeded was anti-climatic. Despite Kites confident statement, they found themselves glued in a long string of traffic. Kite swore furiously, banging the steering wheel then apologising in a cooing voice to the car.

“Get Grimm back on the phone. We need to prove to him we’re trying so he doesn’t release my resume.”

Jens, for the hundredth time that day, sighed, and put Grimm back on speaker.

“Grimm!” Kite yelled desperately. “We are on our way! There’s just a bit of traffic.”

“It’s too late. You two are driving to Vegas. NOW! You better be there by morning or the resume is going out.” Grim hung up.

“What? Vegas? I guess we are heading in the right direction anyway.”

“What are you talking about, we have to return the car.” Jenson argued. “We can’t drive it all the way to Vegas.”

“There is no way in hell I am driving my old crap junk to Vegas. I don’t think you’re fit enough to hold the door shut for that many hours anyway.”

“We can’t just steal the car.” Jens snapped.

“We aren’t stealing it, just borrowing it. I am not turning back now.”

Sammy slunk, terrified into his seat, the movement drew Kites attention.

“We can drop him at a petrol station or something.”

“What, no. We can’t steal the car AND abandon the kid.” Jenson said. “We need him.
As long as he's with us, he is witness that we are planning to return the car and are not stealing it.”

“So you are saying kidnap him? Hold him hostage?” Kite moaned. “That’s worse!”

“No it’s not! Stealing the car is worse!”

“Hostage is worse!”

“By saying hostage your making it sound worse than it is! Its not so bad once you're used to it.”

"Who the hell kept you hostage before?"

"Grimm."

"What sort of sick fantasies does Grimm have..." Kite breathed before snapping his attention back to the boy.

“Gimme your phone, kid.” Kite growled, opening his palm toward Sammy. “We can’t have you causing us any delays if you are coming along with us.” The kid was shaking so intensely he emptied the entire contents of his pockets into Kites had. Kite glowered sceptically at the contents.

“2001 Nokia, nerdy trading cards, and a condom. Kid you have your life really out of balance.”

“s-sorry...”

“You’re scaring him, Kite.”

“No I’m not, I’m joking.”

“y-yes.. you are, sir.”

“Let him sit in the back with me.” Jens asked.

“We can’t stop now. He might try and escape.”

Jenson rolled his eyes.

“Go kid. Climb over to the back seat then.” Kite said.

Sammy undid his seatbelt in an instant and scrambled over to the seat beside Jenson and buckled up once more, where he slumped against the window and started sobbing.
Last edited by Blackwood on Sun Oct 05, 2014 12:11 am, edited 1 time in total.
Hahah....haha.....ahahaha.





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Lumi says...



The road was long and unforgiving, but it stood no chance against Kite's driving, foot shoved squarely to the floorboard without a moment's respite. After what would amount to a large video montage of traveling music and the boys singing together in car-harmony, the Vegas horizon came upon them.

The car slowed as they pulled to the valet curb. The valet held out his hand for Kite's keys, but only got a scoff from the car thief. Sammy and Jens apologized in excess as they followed Kite into the lobby of the hotel. He leaned against the slick wall of the elevator and ran a hand through his messy hair, essentially making it hover on-end. After Jens entered, the door slid shut, and Kite flipped through his phone contacts. "This is home base. According to Brian, the others have been spread thin through the entire city looking for...an air demon. Whoever's overseeing this operation is doing it all wrong." They hit the thirteenth floor and stopped as Kite slammed a fist into the emergency halt button. The door clicked several times before opening nearly instantly.

What greeted him on the other side made his stomach churn--but that could be because he was extremely hungry.

"Home base, gentlemen."

An office space spanning the entirety of the thirteenth floor had been set up hours before. Kite scanned the room for familiar faces. Sophie had set up triage in the far west. The home base base home was set up in a tent in the center, and Tabs' engineer interns set up shop in the far east.

"Sammy," Jens mumbled, "why don't you go talk to Sophie?" He pointed to the triage. "She's way Irish or something."

Sammy, who had (on the car ride there) admitted to Kite and Jens that his fantasy dream girl was either Scottish or Irish, perked up and mussed through his hair. He cautiously turned back to Kite for a second. "Do you still have my--"

Kite slid the condom into his palm. "Remember, kid, she loves being objectified. Be cocky. You own this place. And stuff."

Sammy nodded furiously and took off in a swag-jog to Sophie's Triage.

Jens leaned in as they walked to Home Base Base Home. "That was sinister," he cut.

"Just watching out for Sophs," Kite yawned. Jens blinked as Kite popped his jaw back and forth lazily. "Time to see who's fucking up this operation." He pulled the tent's door back and sighed.

"Collins Comma Kite and White Comma Jenson, you two are miserably late!"

Kite scanned the room. "Knox. How..." He scrambled for words. "...disappointing." He snickered behind a fist, trying to stifle a full-blown laugh. And failed. Through his cackling, he half-shouted: "OH MAN! YOU SCREW UP AN INCUBUS MISSION AND THIS IS HOW GRIMM REPAYS YOU?" He crumbled into Jenson's arms, giggling. "Jesus, it's too funny. It's too damn funny!"

Knox grunted. "This is a major operation, Collins! I'd like to see how your track record compares!"

Kite instantly--and I mean without a second's interlude--ceased laughing. He stood up straight and adjusted his jacket. "My team and I have a success ratio of eighty-three point seventeen percent. Of those decimated numbers, the average class of demon per mission is B major, a full grade-and-a-third above any other team in 3-0-7-3 history. Your associates, however, have a success ratio that, as of this morning, hit fifty-nine point zero four percent with the class of demon per mission averaging at a C minor." Kite grabbed his pilfered car keys and hit the automatic lock button. "If you didn't follow that, the short form is that I wipe the floor with your pitiful scrawny ass every goddamn day--so if you'd like to pick a bone, I suggest finding another dog." A smirk. "Or you could resign. Sure would save us a lotta hassle."

"Enough," cut Newbold. She handed a folder to Kite containing an iPad live-streaming helmet cameras from twelve agents throughout the city. Kite zoomed into Brian's frame and pursed his lips. "Of the twelve agents in the field, we have confirmed one sighting of an airborne bio-object. Just out of sheer luck," she mumbled, "it was Sparta who saw it. That was nearly four hours ago."

Kite looked at Jens and muttered something under his breath. Jens nodded and took the iPad, hooked it to his phone before dialing a long number. Jens handed the phone to Kite, who smiled as the other end picked up. "Tabs! How's my favorite Genius Engineer doing? Oh, you. I'm not exaggerating! Is there anything you can't do? While looking so drop-dead gorgeous, too!" He subconsciously rolled his eyes to the other end of the room where Sophie was trying to escape from Sammy. "I need you to phone one in for Brian and eleven other agents. Yep. Yep. Bio-Air. Yes. Um, agents 409, 117-F through 127-B. Yep. You betcha. Waiting for confirmation. Bingo! Oh, Tabs. You're the greatest. Yep. Yeah." His eyes widened. "Oh, I see." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Tell him that Kite will take him for fish tacos if he'll cool his jets until we get home." A pause. "Yes, good. Yeah. You too." He winked. "Ta-ta."

Kite swapped Jens' phone for the iPad and typed in a code, bringing the image up on the screens around Home Base Base Home. Each of the agents' cameras glossed over pink before revealing bio-trails through the air.

"What you're seeing, folks, is essentially a trail of farts and body odor. This is the most reliable way to track an air demon, and judging by the steady release of vapor, I'd say he's--" Kite turned to Jens for a nod of confirmation. "--A Cirrus-Body Thunderbird." Kite handed the iPad back to Newbold as he walked to point at Brian's screen. The trail entered a building and vanished. "Proceeding, we place a vacuum ward on this neighborhood and raid the casino where the demon's in hiding." He turned to flash a cocky grin to Knox. "Your move, Knox."
I am a forest fire and an ocean, and I will burn you just as much
as I will drown everything you have inside.
-Shinji Moon


I am the property of Rydia, please return me to her ship.





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Wed Oct 08, 2014 10:33 am
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Caesar says...



Brian | Rising Crescendo

Brian made a noise in the back of his throat that could have loosely been interpreted as approval in Kite's direction. "That's about right. Look here."

He waved him towards the bank of computers he was working on. Jenson followed. Knox skulked in the corner, glowering. Brian turned away and focused on the screen in front of him, scanning it intently. The others tried to follow him, looking a bit confused. The monitors displayed a 3D outline of Vegas, on a grid. Above it, different-colored trails moved in circles, fading away at regular intervals. To the left, a series of numbers scrolled down.

"This is the same thing we're seeing on camera, right?" Kite asked. "The demon's trails."
Brian nodded. "This is a map I reconstructed with the footage you just brought up. It indicates the demon's movements in a given timespan, calculated by the color hues of the demonic emissions. Judging by them, our guy hasn't been here for long, and hasn't been doing much other than circling above Vegas. Maybe he's shy."

"Maybe he won't be so hasty to attack," Jenson mused.

"Maybe he's a pussy and a weakling not worth our time," Knox growled. "I can't believe the Director put me with you losers."

"Nobody wants to be doing this," Kite spat back, equally fiery, "so if you shut up and start working, we'll be outta here faster."

"And if you stop bitching like little girls," Brian said, "I won't have to kick your asses to the Director for team-building exercises." Everyone shuddered, Brian included. Then he continued, "you're being disgraceful. This is not how an agent acts, dammit. Behave."

Kite, Knox and Brian squared off, staring each other down. Judging by Jenson's expression, you could smell the testosterone. Sophie tutted. The three deflated. Kite and Brian went back to mumbling about numbers, and Knox fiddled with his iPad.

After some more minutes, Brian, device in hand called everyone to the center of the room.

"This is how it's going to go down. We have agents putting up vacuum seals as we speak. The rest of us are splitting up. The mission will be carried out according to Protocol Caesar. Group A startles the demon and forces it to act immediately -- it will take to its familiar habitat, the air. At this point, group B sucks it into the vacuum cells. We are playing on basic instinct. This should be quick in, quick out. Understood? Good. Agents, we have a casino to raid."
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Auxiira says...



Tabs | Oh.

She waited until Kite had hung up to put away her phone, then turned to Marquee.

"If I even had access to the bloods, which I don't, I'm now occupied with something else." Picking up her computer, she detached the screen and plugged it into a socket on the wall. A few seconds later, the
Bio-Air traces she had patched over to Kite and the others appeared on an interactive table.

"Kite asked me to send him this." Gesturing to the table, she continued. "They're in Vegas, Air demon." Glancing at Marquee, she added. "He says he'll take you for fish taco's if you'll "cool your jets" until they get back. Please."

Marquee rolled his eyes. "Bribery! You and your friends think you can bribe me into relaxation--how droll." He took in a deep breath to rant more, but the thought struck him. "Does he mean fish tacos from that lovely diner on 52nd street?"

"Yeah," she cut, "sure."

Marquee was silent for a moment, but finally humph'd in defeat. "Fine." He kicked off from his desk in the workshop and rolled across the workshop floor to where Tabs was sitting. "Now tell me, Tabitha, how they plan on trapping this demon." He shook his head. "No matter. I'll assume you went with dove tears and eagle's dandruff." He tutted. "I don't suppose you want to know a better way to do it, mmh?"

She threw him a look. "Standard protocol for Air demons is vacuum wards with cells, which you clearly consider 'dove tears and eagle's dandruff'." She grinned at the expression. "But please do impart your wisdom on the situation, Grand Demon Jailer." She raised her eyebrows at him.

He fixed his chair against his heels and grabbed a small blade and a bottle from her work station, leaning in closely. "What you do," he whispered, placing the blade against his middle finger, "collect the first blood shed by the demon." He sliced a small slit in his finger, blessed red instantly. He poised the bottle beneath the slit and let the blood trickle down into the bottom. "Then you do this." He jerked the bottle to his mouth and blew into it. Miraculously, it expanded like a balloon, suddenly fully the color of his blood, only glowing...faintly. "It's called demonic spacial entrapment--make a note of that--and it's up to forty times as powerful as a vacuum ward." He leaned in to her ear. "All depending on how strong the demon is."

Marquee wheeled away happily and tossed his blood bubble up and down, giddy. "See?! No more worries about the demon overpowering your shield!" He giggled. "The stronger the demon, the stronger the shield! Tada!"

She stared at him, slightly bemused, as she let out the gasp of air she'd sucked in at his proximity. Watching him spin on his chair, she frowned. "It doesn't make sense. If you could do that, then why didn't you do it for Space?" And then, "Please stop spinning. It's confusing me." She suddenly had an idea and quickly patched into the mission's computer's checking on what they were looking at. As Marquee rolled solemnly back to the table she returned her intense stare to him. "I don't understand you. Why are you teaching me this? Why stay when you can go?"

"Believe me well, Tabitha, that I locked Space within his own powers all well and good." He fixed the glasses on his nose and tapped on the blood bubble until it rolled away. Tabs typed away furiously at her computer, but Marquee rolled his eyes, aloof. "The thing about Demonic Spacial Entrapment is that it's not very strong when a d--" He rethought his words. "When something of greater power tampers with it from the outside."

Marquee tilted his head to watch Tabitha's eyes. "And if you were home after a very long mission, I doubt you would be so apt to run away just because of some handcuffs!"

He watched her face as the realization hit her. In response, he drew a card out of his wallet: a 3-0-7-3 ID with ENGINEER GENERAL printed in fading black lettering.

"I'd absolutely love to see yours, Engineer General."

Tabs gaped at him open-mouthed for almost a minute before fishing out her ID from a pocket buried in her sweater. "I-I-I..." Stopping, she took a breath to stabilise herself. "Marquee?"

"Yes?"

"That was a little too much information all at once." She gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. "A five minute warning next time would be nice. Work me up to it." Her gaze drifted to the interactive table and the Bio-Air traces. She frowned, her nose scrunching up a little. Pushing her glasses back up, she peered closer.

"Does it look like those traces are very regular to you?" She showed him the recordings with a flick of her wrist.

Marquee dragged them closer and screwed up his face, tracing the lines and arches over Vegas. "Don't you find it odd that the first move he made was a straight line, and then he just committed to circling? It'd oddly remeniscent of some sort of...sigil, or something." He scoffed. "That's absurd, though. You need flames to commit a sigil in the air, and there's nothing flammable in his wake."

Marquee sat back and put a finger to his mouth. "No, wait." He turned to Tabs and stared very intently at her glasses. There was silence. And staring. And beads of sweat forming on Tabs' forehead. And finally, after minutes of nothingness, Marquee snapped, yelling in Tabs' face: "Farts are flammable! It's a--"

"--TRAP!" shouted Tabs.

She grabbed her phone and frantically called Kite, whilst tapping hectically on the table as it rang.

"Tabs, darling, what can I-"

"Kite, just be quiet. Listen. You're all walking into- no you're bloody well under a fucking trap." Her swearing seemed to finally get his attention.

"A trap?"

"Yes, for Pete's sake-" she squawked in protest as Marquee plucked the phone from her hand.

"Marqueeeeeee..." She whined. As he showed no signs of giving it back, she tapped on the screen until she had the copy of the mission's screens back in front of her and made 'IT'S A TRAP!' blink on the screens before returning to listen to what Marquee was saying.
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Lumi says...



Kite threw down Jenson's phone, warranting a squeak from his bestie. He ran to Hadrian and grabbed him by the collar, screaming in his face. "WHERE ARE THE GUNS?"

Hadrian rolled his eyes and shrugged Kite off, unveiling a wheeled arsenal cart in the style of a paddy wagon. His fingerprints scanned off and the wagon unlocked, revealing their spirit weaponry.

"Alright, guys and gals. I'm taking over this operation, pulling rank, being that guy because if you can't tell from the flashing red alerts, we're walking into a trap." He pulled out a pistol and checked its cartridge. Of course there were no real bullets. "Consider all of your friends already in the casino's neighborhood dead." He sighed. "We need real bullets. Knox?"

Hadrian averted his gaze, staring off at Newbold. Kite growled and gripped his collar again. "WHERE ARE THE BULLETS?"

"There are none."

"Excuse me?"

Knox groaned. "We didn't bring any! I was certain the demon was low-grade."

Kite flushed red, dropped Hadrian, and raised the pistol above his head, whipping the butt down onto Hadrian's head, dropping him to the floor, out cold.

"Alright. Jenson and I are going to get real bullets. The rest of you do your fucking best to get our agents out of the casino before the sigil is triggered."

__ __ __

Marquee stared at the phone, blinking. "Tabitha, how did phones shrink so much while I was gone?"

"I'm sure that's not all that's shrunk while you were away."

Marquee blinked at her, certain of her innuendo.

"N-No! I didn't mean!!" She blushed.

Marquee continued blinking.
I am a forest fire and an ocean, and I will burn you just as much
as I will drown everything you have inside.
-Shinji Moon


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StellaThomas says...



Sophie | Fending off an abducted car salesman's teenage son

"So, you're from Ireland, huh?"

Sophie looked up at the quivering lower lip of a gangly seventeen year old - the type that hadn't quite learnt what to do with all four limbs at the same time, and had tried to lean on a counter and was now wiping agar jelly off his left elbow.

"I'm Scottish. And you are?"

"Sammy. Scottish, huh, that's an unusual name."

Was this... was this flirting? Was this what passed for flirting in American high schools? At least in Glasgow they bought you a deep-fried Mars Bar before gobsmacking you, back in the good old days. (Not that Sophie ever went to discos back then. She studied a lot and watched YouTube recordings of stand-up comedy in her free time. God. Now she didn't feel so sorry for the boy after all.)

"I don't mean to be rude, but what are you doing?"

He blushed, which was awkward because his face was already red enough with all that acne. "I - I just - they..."

"Who's 'they'?" she asked, feeling a slow anger creep up from her ankles to her belly, looking to where he was gesturing. Hadn't Collins' crew just been there?

"I think it's really brave of you to wear a labcoat. Pretending to do science and stuff. It's cool. I like that in a woman."

"Oh my gosh, you took girl advice from Kite, didn't you?"

"I don't need girl advice."

"I'm going to murder him if he comes back from this mission alive." Sophie grabbed the agar plates away from Sammy's precarious elbow and shoved them in his hands instead. "Go put these over by the incubator."

"What?"

"If Collins brought you here, you might as well be useful."

"Isn't there a supplies closet or something we could sneak off to?"

Sophie thwapped him. "I'm a doctor, you fool, you are underage, and I happen to be on a date with someone else right now."

Sammy raised his eyebrows and looked around for Sophie's very absent date. "Okay, crazy-lady."

It was official. Sophie couldn't even charm a teenage boy. Maybe someday she could move onto potatoes and try her luck there.

She ran a hand through her hair and squinted at the screens at the other end of the room, the demon circling high above them. Home-base was fairly quiet. She rapped her fingers against the counter, her feet itchy with anticipation. She hated being on the field. She'd only come on a few field missions before. Usually most didn't need a medic - in fact, if she hadn't ended up here by mistake (it had been a mistake, hadn't it? Not an elaborate plan?), there probably wouldn't have been any doctors, just paramedics waiting to patch people up long enough to get them back to 3-0-7-3. Waiting was the worst part - not knowing what was coming next.

There was a monitor on the counter, and just as something to do, Sophie dragged the keyboard across to her. Her fingers danced over the keys, but instead of her own log-in, it was Mama's, and instead of checking anything useful, she opened up Jenson White's lab results.

She'd seen the FBC, but there were other pages here. LFTs - bilirubin sky-high, surely he should be jaundiced at those levels? His total ferritin exceeded anything Sophie had ever seen. Renal function - GFR at 250 a minute... how was any of this humanly possible?

Humanly possible...

She was being ridiculous. She closed the results down, logged out and went into her own log-in to check her internal email.

Suddenly there was a rush of activity on the office floor. Sophie looked up. There were logistics officers screaming down phones, typing madly, maps being pulled up and down and pins being unstuck and suddenly, across all the screens flashed the words 'IT'S A TRAP'.

"What's going on?" Sophie asked, heading from her corner to the action.

"Abort - all agents to leave casino stat. Countdown sixty seconds - 59, 58-"

"What's going on?" she demanded again, this time at a distressed looking aide with a blunt black fringe and the most enormous blue eyes Sophie had ever seen.

"The demon's going to set its fart on fire and kill everybody," the aide said.

"What," Sophie demanded.

"Wouldn't it be nice to die that way though?" the aide said, taking a moment to imagine it. "Death by demon fart. I'd love that on my headstone."

"Who are you?"

"But nobody dies today! Not on my watch!" The aide skipped away, out the door of the office.

Sophie rolled her eyes. Sammy was standing looking very scared by the incubator. The countdown was still being called, and all of their cameras had been turned to the casino. 37, 36, 35, 34...

The demon had stopped flying on its screen, and Sophie had the keenest sense that right now she was the only person in the room watching that monitor.

Everything went quiet.

And for the second time in far too short a time period, Sophie heard an earth-shattering boom.

Every screen was filled with chaos as the casino ceilings caved in. People were screaming both on screen and in the room. There was fire, black smoke, and Sophie's heart settled in the back of her throat.

"Agents down - agents down -"

How down? she wanted to ask. Or part of her. The other part wanted to crouch in a corner and pretend that a casino hadn't just gone up in smoke.

But another part took charge - the part that had kept her top of her class, the part that had kept her alive all those years.

"Okay, who's going to the scene?" she asked as the paramedics split up. "I need three of you here." She grabbed the triage labels and tossed them around. "You all know the drill. Sammy, I need as many bags of IV fluids from that fridge as you can, bandage rolls, Jelonet, scissors..."

She glanced back at the chaos behind her, and breathed a sigh of relief as she could hear agents reporting that they were still alive, still conscious.

"And all the morphine you can find."
"Stella. You were in my dream the other night. And everyone called you Princess." -Lauren2010





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Blackwood says...



Jenson | In the middle of a ton of broken stuff


Dust. Thick white clouds of dust everywhere. And if that wasn’t enough it was spreadings into his eyes and sticking to his contract, making him cry. Maybe glasses weren’t so bad afterall.

Jenson heaved himself up from the corner in which he had been thrown into. Everything was too hazy with the dust of rubble to see much further than a meter ahead, but he knew one thing for sure, and that was that everything had gone down.

The casino had been crippled. In every direction came the sounds of moaning and screaming as unfortunate gamblers pawed their way through their personal apocalypse. If they were lucky to have won their lives, anything they had bet on was now null, or perhaps for the less savoury sorts, the spilling slot machines were heaven on earth.
“Kite!?” He yelled before breaking into a coughing fit as he inhaled the powered ceiling.

Where was that bastard? He better not be under that fallen wall. He better not be trapped beneath something heavy. And he better not be dead in hells name if he was dead Jenson would kill him himself! Again!
“Stop demon scum!” Jenson felt a shove at his right and before he knew it he had once again been tackled back into the piles of rubble.
“Oh. It’s only you. This thing must be broken.” Kite slammed the demonogramater firmly against the flat of his palm.

“Give that to me.” Jenson barked, snatching the tool from Kites fingers. At least he was fine. Kite stood up and put his arms casually behind his head.
“I wonder why it’s going off like that. Not very helpful considering we can’t even see our surroundings.”
Jenson waved the demonogramater up and around, stepping side by side and trotting around in circles.
“Whatever I am the readings are identical. Like it’s flat-lined by on a specific frequency.”

“Either way, we’ve been attacked. I can smell it. The sweet smell of demon cologne.” Kite said ass he took a whiff of the air.
“I don’t know what you’re smelling but it smells foul to me-” The emergency radio crackled, interrupting the conversation.

“Collins. Collins. Come in. Are you active?”
“Sophie?” Kite asked, scrambling for the speaker. “Yes, affirmative. Yes. Jenson too.”
“We have agents down, the re-” The radio sparked dead, the air feeling just the smallest bit heavier.

“What did she say?” Jenson inquired.
“I don’t know, it just cut out. She said something about agents down.”
Jenson paused, glancing around in thought. “...Knox?”
‘What about him? Don’t tell me he’s come to whine at our asses again.”
“Maybe he’s the one who is down?”

Kite shrugged. “I last saw him over by the bar.”
The two nodded to one another, thoughts on the same page, and hurried in the direction they could only make out as what used to be the bar.
“Hadrian?”
Jenson heard a signal as his own radio tuned in.

“This is Command.”
“Tabitha? Wasn’t it just Sophie.”
“Yes, but all lines are connected. Kite just cut out? What happened?”
“His radio went bust. We are also getting strange readings on the chart.”
“About that…”

“What about it?” Kite barked, rushing over like an excited puppy.
“Let go of me-”
“Let me wear the speaker-”
“No. Stop grabbing.”
“Then just gimme here.”
“I said stop grabbing me..”

“THE TWO OF YOU SHUT UP AND STOP FIGHTING.” The speaker yelled. Mouths were shut instantly. The radio continued its speech.
“So after the demon released its far- I mean after the demon exploded we noticed some unusual activity. It was like it vanished out of this plane. But then we soon realised that this was not the case. We took a look at some of the replies of the explosion and the force was far to big to be logical. Then we realized, the demon consumed its own mass in order to fuel the fart- I mean explosion.”

“What? You mean it exploded itself out of existence?” Jenson asked.
“Not exactly…. more like.. exploded itself into a different form.”
“Doesn’t the dust make the air seems so heavy?” Kite moaned. Jenson choked on his own breath.
“You don’t mean that-”
“Yes, just as we suspect. The demon has become insoluble. It is is the air around you. Luckily its proximity is now contained within the ruins of the casino but who knows what treacheries it’s already planning.”

“F-” Said Kite.
“Damn right.” Agreed Jenson.
“Well I suppose getting the bad news out of the way. It’s good to see that you two found Knox.”
“What? We didn’t find him.”
“You didn’t? My screen i telling me he’s standing right in between you two-”
Jenson and Kite both glanced down. They were standing atop a pile of collapsed architecture.
“Dammit.”
“Start digging!”
They scrambled onto their knees and started frantically tossing aside sticks and plaster, all while their lungs grew more burdened by the demonic distaste.
Hahah....haha.....ahahaha.





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Lumi says...



Marquee held a finger to his lips and pondered for a moment as the radios went aflurry with screams and shouts. "I wonder if the casino had gone down in flames if they'd listened to my jets. You know, before I cooled them."

Tabitha was furiously tapping away at her holoscreen, and it was beginning to grate Marquee's nerves. She barked into a headset that no doubt connected to some poor soul important enough to get her direct line. Marquee peered at her screen, then back to his own, where he'd tapped into the video feed from the casino's remaining cameras. Admittedly, they'd been down for a while, but a bit of demonic coercion had done the trick. Marquee had to admit: he would make a nice technomancer. "Tabitha, do you know what it means when a demon fog begins to coalesce around a body?"

"Spare me your lessons, Marquee!" shouted Tabs. "We have agents losing consciousness like bees in a trap."

"Bees in a trap?"

"Yes! Bees in a trap!"

"It's not a lesson, you know."

Tabs huffed. "Of course not. Because I should already know this, right?!"

"No," deadpanned Marquee, "though you really should." He shook his head. "It means that the demon has found a host."

Tabs leered at him, half-staring at his screen. "A human could say that without salivating."

Marquee wiped his lower lip of moisture and stuck his nose high in protest. "I'm merely thinking about my cooled-jet tacos. That's all. Either way, I may not get the chance...as it seems like Kite is about to be attacked and probably killed."

"What about Jenson?"

"Oh," Maruqee allowed, "I don't worry much about him."

_______________________________

Kite shook Hadrian at the shoulders, failing miserably to support the guy's head as it flopped to and fro. The fog around him was getting thicker, and Jenson began tugging at Kite's shoulder. "Something bad is about to happen," he asserted. "We don't have time for your guilt shaking."

"If he dies before I get to apologize for being a dick, that makes me a dick forever. There's no way in hell I'm carrying that out of here!"

"You won't have a dick to carry out of here if you don't move." The fog condensed, slid inside Hadrian's body, and suddenly vanished.

"See?" Kite protested, "He's waking up!"

"His eyes look...wrong."

"You'd look wrong too if you'd been covered in casino debris. It's literally like, the worst debris imaginable. So much asbestos." Kite cuddled Hadrian up against his chest, holding his head high enough to facilitate his breathing.

"HEY DOWN THERE!" Brian.

"GET SOME WATER," shouted Kite.

Hadrian shifted and opened his eyes to see Kite holding him. "Kite Collins..."

"Please don't kiss me," pleaded Kite.

Hadrian's voice had its own echo, but Jenson and Kite looked on, listening as Brian scrounged for water. "Kite Collins is an agent of the 3-0-7-3. He was a virgin until age 26 when he met Demhara, Hadrian's sister, and was seduced after a...Thanksgiving? No, Christmas party. Yes. This is a correction. Kite Collins is an agent of the 3-0-7-3 and lives with The Blinking Devil. Oxygen belongs mostly to the lungs of Kite Collins, but small traces can be found from the lungs of Demhara Alleriya. Correction: New traces include the deceased Hadrian Alleriya."

Kite was insanely uncomfortable. "Knox, how'd you learn so much about me?"

Jenson shuffled uncomfortably behind him. This was no new knowledge, but it was suddenly clear that Hadrian wasn't in Kite's arms. "Kite, we need to go."

"No," Kite asserted, "not until I say goodbye."

Jenson tensed. "That's not Hadrian!"

"Correct. The information is correct. No elevation in pulse in Jenson White would indicate no fallacy. The pleading party may continue. Correct."

"Kite."

"Jenson, I have to apologize. I can't be a dick for life."

"Then don't be a dick!" he shouted.

Hadrian touched Kite's face gently, then sank his nails in, drawing blood instantly. Kite yelped and wrestled against his grip, but didn't break free until he drew his gun, firing a round into Hadrian's rib cage. "Fuck you!" Kite shouted. "I'm trying to be nice and you let a demon take over?! Classic Knox! Screw this," he huffed. "Screw you. Let's do this."

Hadrian's body trembled as he stood. Blood comically spewed from his side like air from a busted pool. "Correct." He cracked his knuckles and stretched. "Our moment of romance has passed. Would you like to die with that emotional erection, or should we rub it out first?"

Kite aimed at his chest and fired, garnering a new spurt of blood. Hadrian continued walking towards him, only with lightning jumping from arm to arm, shoulder to shoulder. The demon ripped off his shirt, revealing the blood sigil on his chest. "You're a very wanted man in the demon world, Kite Collins. My friends would like me to shove your frequent flier miles up your a--"

"ATTACK!" shouted Brian. A roar of wounded agents overtook the crumbling ruins as a horde of agents surrounded the demon. Lightning burst out of him and chained through a regiment of agents, dropping them like bees in a trap. Brian leaped forward with his sword, a wave of spiritual energy deflecting the lightning. "This demon is mine." A beat. "You know, to kill."
I am a forest fire and an ocean, and I will burn you just as much
as I will drown everything you have inside.
-Shinji Moon


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Blackwood says...



Hadrian| Sort of but really the demon possessing him.

The last thing Hadrian remembered was the ugly mug of that bastard.
After that, it had felt and looked like someone had wrapped red cellophane tightly around his head. He had been smothered, couldn't breathe, and everything was tinted crimson. And that was that.

Now he was something different. He wasn't him exactly, but something else was him, controlling him. It being inside him, Hadrian felt like a first person spectator, except it was more than that. He felt it. He shared what the other thing felt and thought completely.
And because of that he thoroughly agreed that this team of pesky humans must die.

Ugly-Mug had backed off and had been replaced with the sword swinging baldy. Baldy dashed forward, plunging the end of the blade into the soft, convenient flesh he used to call his body. 'Haha, that tickled', the possessor though so that was exactly. Baldy looked pissed, like a child that didn't get what he wanted, and started thrashing around his little stick violently.

"Brian stop. It's no longer Hadrian. His mortal body has been possesed and is no longer alive. You can't physically kill what's already dead. Another one of the humans yelled from the sideline. Hadrian's subconsciousness recognised him as 'Shady' the one who always wore shades. But this time he didn't have them on, so the demon didn't click, so instead he was 'blondie'.

"I'll handle this then." Ugly-mug said, pulling out a gun from his holster. "Tabs gave me this new design. Instant de-demonification in the size of a convenient emergency hand gun. Will get the job-"

Hadrian Demon didn't care for the humans explanations, instead he roared, releasing a pulsation of energy, sending all of the humans flying backward. What pests.
The demon tapped into Hadrian's subconsciousness again. It seemed these were just field agents. If he wanted to go ahead and take down the entire 3073 just like he had planned he would need to do it from the source.
He spared no time and started using the pathetic body to sprint through the rubble he himself had cause.

The best part about it was that this body knew exactly where they were holed up in their temporary base, and he had all the access cards to get in.
Hahah....haha.....ahahaha.





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Lumi says...



Kite Collins

Rubble shifted. The air was stale. Kite was covered in plaster dust. He uncocked his handgun and stowed it in his belt before turning to everyone, sizing them up by injuries. Demhara had her rifle, searching for Hadrian through the dust.

"Well, gang," he said, crossing his arms, "we really screwed the pooch on this one."

"Speak for yourself," grumbled Brian, stowing his sword. "We were following moronic orders from moronic leaders, and now one of the morons is dead."

"No," snapped Kite. "He's not quite dead yet because I haven't killed him." He shook his head. "If anyone in this whole damned organization gets to kill Demi's brother, it's me." He took in a deep breath of debris and sighed. "He's on his way to our hideout. Our mission is to stop him before he hurts our medical staff."

"Meaning Sophie."

Kite grabbed his gun by the holster. "I wasn't gonna name names, but you're damned right it's Sophie. Men, it's our duty to protect her from Hadrian's dirty hands and that demon's nasty breath." He pointed his gun into the air and put a finger on the trigger. "For Sophie!"

"FOR SOPHIE!" shouted the remaining 3073 agents.

Kite turned to the hotel and took a step forward, toppling over a pile of bars and hitting his head on a load-bearing support beam. Dazed, he ambled to his feet and winced, feeling the instant sprain in his ankle. "Okay, so maybe less me in the plan." He grimaced. "BRING ME THAT DEMON'S HEAD!"
I am a forest fire and an ocean, and I will burn you just as much
as I will drown everything you have inside.
-Shinji Moon


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Caesar says...



Brian

There was no way that thing was getting to Sophie. Brian was in the lead before breath had fully left Kite's lungs. The other agents were in tow.

The sound of his feet pounding against concrete was the rhythm to his thoughts. The demon could shrug off wounds to his body, this was clear. He could also push it to inhuman extremes. Perhaps it would break apart, but HQ was closer than that.

"Split up!" Brian yelled to the others. "We can cut him off." He knew they couldn't though, not like this. Brian's heart pounded.

He stopped abruptly, the agent that had followed almost crashing into him. The street in front of him had come to a grinding halt. There were cars honking, small fires and great cries of anger. Cars were way backed up. There seemed to have been commotion at a crosswalk.

Brian took two steps forward, towards a luxury car. The agent, a frail-looking young woman, followed him anxiously, looking around at all the mess.

"Sir?" she asked. "W-What are you doing?"

Brian, face dark, towered above the car's window. The driver turned and muttered something he didn't quite catch. Brian paused for a beat, then smashed the car's window with the butt of his gun. The man inside screamed. Brian reached in and grabbed him by the shirt collar.

"Out," he growled.

The poor guy was practically ripped from his car. Brian shot in, the agent following. She gave a terrified apology. The former car owner ran.

Brian revved the engine and roared onto the sidewalk. He cut past the intersection, speeding past the fiery mess that the demon had left behind, and made his way towards HQ as fast as the car could manage. He lost count how many pedestrians he had almost felled. Brian did not care.

With one hand, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his spare cellphone. He called Sophie. To his relief, she picked up almost immediately.

"Brian?"

"It's me."

"Thank god I was so worried I'm so glad you're okay. What's the status? I had dispatched three of the medical staff some time ago, but they haven't said anything..."

"Those were probably the mangled corpses I passed along the way." Brian was terse. "The demon's taken over Knox's body. He's coming to HQ. Kite has a sprained ankle. Jenson and the others are making their way here but they're on foot. I'm coming as fast as I can."

She began to say something, but Brian cut her off. "Sophie, you've gotta run. Get as far away from HQ as possible. I'll deal with the demon. Your first priority is staying alive."

He hung up. The building was in sight. He turned around to the agent in the back seat.

"Your name is Angela, right?" Brian had recalled the watery-eyed fresh recruit passing the 3073 admissions exams with top marks, or something like that.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Can you fight?"

"Yes." Her eyes grew wide. "Are we going to --"

"Good. We're getting out."

He parked the car and strode towards the building. He made another call.

"Jenson? Jenson. Where are you?"

"We'll be at HQ in ten minutes or so, Sparta," Jenson said. "Demhara's right behind me, coming in from the east."

"Good. I'm going in." Brian hung up.

The door seemed to have been ripped off of its hinges. A cold steel ball lodged itself into Brian's stomach. Had Sophie managed to get away? Was he too late? One way to find out.

The lobby was also totally destroyed. Couches were lodged in the walls, tables were smashed and there was even a crater in a corner. The demon must be furious. Or very gleeful. The base of operation was on the top floor. Sure enough, the elevator was destroyed.

There was only one stairwell. Brian ran up it, taking the stairs three at a time.

"I'll head to the top floor. You scout the rest," he told the agent in tow. "Scream if you see not-Knox. Make your way up to me if you don't."

Brian flew up the second floor and to the control room. The stairs were not damaged. The walls were not damaged. The door to the base of operations was slightly ajar. Had the demon perhaps headed straight to his objective, choosing not to destroy everything in his path?

One way to find out. Brian drew his rapier and kicked open the door.

There was a distinctly unmanly roar of challenge. Out of the corner of his eye, Brian saw a bar coming down towards his head. He raised his arm and caught his attacker's. In the same movement, he twisted towards his opponent's hip and then turned again. Brian's assailant was sent to the ground, and in an instant had a sword pointed at his neck.

There was a second scream, female. Of relief this time. Brian recognized it as Sophie's.

"Sammy!" she exclaimed. "Sammy no. It's Brian!"

"Oh," said Brian. "It's Sammy." He did not let go of his deathhold fully.

Sophie did that for him. She flung herself at his neck, blubbering.

"I'm so glad to see you're alright, I was so afraid it was going to be that demon, we heard the noises and --"

"Sophie." Brian said, putting her down. "Calm down. What noises?"

She returned to her professional self, as if her bones themselves heeded Brian's current tone of command "Explosions and wrecking-things noises, about ten minutes ago? It sounded like the door had been ripped off. There's been nothing for a while. I'm so glad to see you, I thought I'd die, or worse, get taken away by the demon..."

Brian's face slowly drained of all color. She'd heard noises. They'd seen the destruction. But this floor was intact. Which meant --

"Oh, fuck."

There was a scream.

"Angela!" Brian exclaimed. "You two, come with me. Don't get separated."

He catapulted himself down the stairs again. Of course, if the demon had been at the third floor, he wouldn't have spared it either.

The second floor was once something like an office block. Desks were thrown about haphazardly. Several were smoldering, and a few had things lodged in them. Brian scanned the room for the demon.

not-Knox was there, looking even more furious than usual. Chunks of flesh were missing from one of his legs, and he had a dozen or so black spikes lodged in his left arm. A long dagger was poking out of one of his eyes.

Angela stood behind a desk, looking greatly distressed.

"Mr Thorne sir," she said, "c-could you help? I've, um, r-run out of ammunition..."

The demon snarled and threw himself at Brian. He sidestepped and kicked him in the kneecap. As his body buckled, Brian lunged for the demon's other eye. not-Hadrian's body flared, and a wave of energy knocked Brian into a desk. The impact deprived him of his breath. He dropped his saber.

not-Hadrian stood back up and moved towards him, hand outstretched.

"You filthy humans!" He screamed in Brian's face. Spittle flew everywhere. The demon's eyes were like an animal's. "I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to me, worms! I'll kill you, rip out your guts and piss on ---"

Sammy hit him on the head with the bar he was holding. "Mind! Your! Language! Next to a lady!" Each word was punctuated by another blow.

The demon was hopelessly confused now. Brian sprang into action, rushing forward. His foot broke not-Hadrian's stance, and his uppercut connected solidly with his jaw.

Angela intercepted the demon's trajectory and immobilized him.

"Brian!" Sophie called. She tossed him a gun.

Brian grinned and shot the demon three times in the head. The demon convulsed and spasmed as the spiritual discharge took effect, purging the corpse of its host. Angela turned and in one smooth movement hurled the demon out the window.

There were a few moments of silence. The agent carefully poked her head out the gap in the glass.

"Y-yep, he's pretty dead alright." She looked a bit green in the face.
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Auxiira says...



Tabitha - Some hell of a date


Marquee loosened his tie and let out a long sigh, clapping his hands together. "Tabitha! Our allies have felled a beast! This calls for--"

"--don't say tacos."

"--a celebration! And if you're not keen on tacos--or more specifically fish tacos, then we could certainly dive for quesadillas. Or a nice bottle of White Zinfendel!"

"Marquee." She took a breath shakily. "Just be quiet for five minutes. He wasn't necessarily liked, but I liked him. So just please shut. Up."

Marquee re-assessed the situation and returned to her with a softer expression. "I see. Your emotions are weighed down more by the death of this Hadrian fellow than they are heightened by the death of the demon." He leaned back in his chair, holding his chin in the palm of one hand, drumming fingers against his cheek. "What if I told you," he eased in, "that there's technically a way we could get that pesky, beloved meat bag back in the waking world?"

"I wouldn't believe you," she stated squarely, though a small frown brought her brows closer. "It can't be done. There isn't a charm, a spell, a potion, anything, that can bring a body back to life. None of these books, nor any of those I have at home have any successful records of ressucitation attemps. They all ended horribly. I wouldn't do that to him."

"Books, yes, quite right. I forgot that you were quite the bookish type. I'll make a note." He spun around in his chair and leaned back until he could see Tabitha upside down over his forehead. "I suppose my phrasing was also poor," he admitted, but shot back with, "but there certainly is a way to anchor his soul to the human world. Even give him a nice...oh, I'd say five years? Maybe six if the weather's right." He nodded. "Yeah, six. Six sounds good. What would you say to giving your pal Hadrian another six years? It wouldn't be a proper life--not one with tacos and wine or anything of consequence, but he could be your lab partner." His gaze meandered. "Particularly if you're looking to replace one that you don't particularly want."

"But not a proper li- ... wait. Why would I need to replace a lab partner, Marquee? Not that I actually like having them around, but it is their job." She frowned. "And they do stuff when I'm on other contracts."

Marquee stopped her and shook his head to match her head-shaking, and then pointed at himself. "One you don't want, Tabitha."

"Oh." Her lips quirked into a quick smile. "Well you're actually employed by this place. Or something like that. You're here to stay. They need someone who's more than semi-permanent." A few keys clattered as she tapped at them, getting rid of the previous alert she had but on the computers in the field base." And you can teach me stuff." She shrugged. "I don't hugely mind you."

"Well!" Marquee swiveled his chair backwards and crossed one leg over the other, thinking with his fingers drumming his sharp chin. All the while he kept his pearlescent eyes on Tabitha. "I wasn't expecting such a compliment to come from the Great and Fearsome Tabitha." He shrugged. "At least not today." He returned to the desk on his feet and powered down their screens, grabbing her full attention with a furrowed brow. "Our portion of the mission is complete by my standards...and it's well past time for food." He threw Tabitha her coat and neared the door. "Come along, Tabby Cat. Tut tut and all that. Dinner awaits."

She clumsily caught her coat, slipping off of her chair as she did so and grabbing her bag. "I don't like that name." She shrugged on the coat, pushing her glasses to hold back her hair. "I don't like you switching off my computers either." As she pulled a scarf around her neck, she muttered, "I really don't like that name." As they started down the corridor to leave, a frown rested on her brow, pulling her lips down in a pout. "Don't take me for tacos. I don't like tacos. I eat them for Kite so he doesn't feel bad."

Marquee stopped fiddling with the buttons on his pea coat and quite obviously adjusted his mental plan. As far as Tab could tell, his whole existence now hinged on fish tacos of all things, as if some clumsy writer had given him a gimmick once and stuck to it through his entire life. He nodded, though, and finished buttoning his coat. "We will eat pasta. I have seen a pasta place downtown, and I will pay. We will have red meat and drink red wine and it will be...almost as good as tacos." He bowed, allowing her the doorway. "Milady."

"Please don't do that, I really don't like it." She mumbled as she took the door from him and went through. She cleared her throat. "Pasta's good, very good. Do you have a ca..." Her voice faded out as she remembered that if he had had a car then it would probably be a heap of rust by now. "How are we getting there?"

Marquee fumbled for a very brief second, obviously caught off-guard. He went into his thinking stance again and mulled over his options before striking a finger into the air. "Aha!" He disappeared into the lab and returned with an Gyromagnetic Electrodriver. "Tabitha, darling, since you refuse to be called anything else, have you ever fancied a ride in the Director's Mercedes?" He winked and grabbed her by the hand before dashing down the hall towards the parking lot. She hestitated slightly, then decided that for once, she could just go with the flow. It seemed to be the time for it since Marquee had arrived.

***

The restaurant was...overwhelming. Overwhelming not in that many people were dining or that the staff was rude or anything of that sort, but Marquee couldn't help but feel...daunted. By the menu.

He whispered under his breath so hopefully only Tabs could hear him. "Tabitha, do you happen to know any of these Italian words?" Behind him, a group of waiters were gathered at the window to admire the Mercedes out front. "Because I'll be very honest, Tabitha, and say that back in my prime, menus weren't quite so...lingual."

"I could probably read it if I had the right pair of glasses on, but if you read the writing in italics under the names, it tells you what's in it." She peered at the menu then pulled down her glasses so she could actually see. Glancing over at the Mercedes, she frowned slightly. "Are we going to get into trouble for that?"

Marquee glanced over his shoulder and then shrugged, going through the lists of ingredients in all the pastas. "I wouldn't know how to mind it, Tabitha, as, if you hadn't noticed yet--" he held up one of his wrists still encased in a broken handcuff, "--you're on a date with a man who just spent decades in hell."

She pushed his hand down to ward off the onlookers from other tables.

"Which would you say is a redder meat? There's a steak they serve only rare, and then there's something called 'kale', which sounds like a type of fish to me. And if that's the case, then I'll admit that Kale has my vote." He began to trail off. "I wonder if they serve nachos..."

"Steak tartare is fine, just weird. Kale is basically cabbage..." She flicked to the next page. "Here, fish pasta, turn the page." She reached over and turned the page, pulling down the top and leaning across the table so she could point at the place. "Why are tacos so important anyway. Why fish tacos?" She shuddered and made a face.

He thought on it for a moment in his thinking stance before nodding his head to the side, then the other. "Tabitha, you enjoy strawberry-flavored Starburst. It's on your file in the director's office. Anyway, let's say that you spent your entire childhood and adolescence without tasting sugar in any capacity--only vegetables and meats--no fruits or anything. And then one day, this nice man named Kite shows up in your prison cell, busts you out, and takes you to a diner where you have your very first strawberry Starburst." He raised his eyebrows. "Does that make sense to you?"

She sighed. "Yes, I suppose so." In her pocket her phone beeped. She quickly pulled it out and checked the text before groaning. "My neighbors are complaining about my dog barking." She rubbed her brow. "Which means someone non-human tried to break into my house... again. I don't even have much of value except spells."

Marquee, once again, held up his wrist with the broken handcuff dangling by the melted lock. "Something doesn't need to be valuable to a human to be valuable to a demon, dear." He took a bite of a breadstick and spat it out immediately, wiping his tongue with his napkin. "Egh, garlic."

"Wait, the garlic stereotype is true?"

"Utterly and completely true. It burns my tongue like those ghost peppers burn humans." He took a drink of water before regaining his composure. "But. Your valuables. If you have a hell hound guarding your home, then apparations will know that it is a place of power...similar, if you would, to how holy ghosts are attracted to cathedrals and places of holy power. Your home, though, probably has enough power in it to jump-start a dormant Class B demon." He raised his eyebrows. "Up for an investigation?"

"It's actually an alarm that just sounds like a dog barking, but yes, my house probably does have a lot of power, and that's just in the barriers." She frowned. "And yes, I'd like to know wa's going on." She stood up, taking her coat from the back of the chair. "We're not taking the Merc. I'm already going to have problems with apparently 'bringing a man home'. Ribbing for weeks. Brilliant."

"I'm sure it's not the first time it's ever happened; certainly won't be the last."

He was too occupied with his coat to notice her fiercely flushed face.

***

Marquee clapped his hands together and stuffed them in his pockets. "So this is the gorgeous House of Tabitha. I have to admit, dear, I thought it'd be smaller." He jostled from a punch to his arm. Inside, the distinct sound of a dog's bark--in varying pitches and tones--carried through the neighborhood. Marquee looked about for any signs of spirit activity. "Are you certain it wasn't just a ghost, Tabitha? Ghosts wander. Sometimes aimlessly."

She whistled through her teeth and the barking stopped. "Absolutely. It's the sound of a cat fight for ghosts. Barking is something non-human with the possibility of a corporeal form." She tucked her hair behind her ears before resting her hands on her hips. A quick glimmer of light from the window next door made her huff. "There starts the rumor mill." She cocked her head then started towards a partially open gate at the side of the house. "That gate isn't meant to be open."

Her obvious boyfriend neared the gate and sniffed at the air before growling very lightly under his breath. "Tabitha, I need you either to get inside or prepare to fight with me. The demon is here." Marquee's head darted from building to building around them, checking the air and streets, stars, trees--anything that could conceal a demon. "Class D." He sniffed. "Smoldering demon...smoking demon." He sniffed and crouched to the ground. "We need to get out of this residential area."

She chewed on her lip. "Do we need anything special?"


Marquee had settled on a tree across the road. His eyes glossed over a deep purple and he unfastened his coat. "Bring--" another growl, "--an overheating charm. Something that can take a bolt of lightning." He reached around to his back pocket and pulled out a one-shot flare gun, aiming it at the tree. "Meet me at the 3-0-7-3 in five minutes and for the love of God don't get near me until it's time to use the spell." He shot the gun at the tree and took off in a superhuman sprint down the street, followed quickly by a woman with snow-white hair.

She blinked for a second, then ran to her door, fumbling with the lock before stumbling into her house. As she rootled her way through the charms hanging in order from a shelf, she tried to work out the fastest way to get to the 3-0-7-3 on foot. Coming to the conclusion she'd have to run , she dumped her satchel next to her desk and grabbed the charm, taking a few extra just in case and looping the strings around her wrists, careful to separate them all. Tabitha exited her house, slamming the door behind her, waving at the curtain-twitchers before leaving a at the closest to a sprint she was ever going to get.

Even at at this time of the evening, there were people crowding the streets, but for once she barelled through them. By the time she reached 3-0-7-3 she had a stitch and was seriously considering the summer training course Kite had been trying to get her to join. She started to search for Marquee, then realised that if she just followed the noise, she'd probably find him. It was easy enough to find him, she could hear the shouts of agents from then entrance. Not everyone had gone with Kite and Hadrian, and those left seemed to have been trying to help, but had resigned themselves to watching.

Tabitha shouldered her way through the growing crowd, trying to catch her breath as she went, and grabbed a charm from her wrist. "Marquee!" Wheeze. "I got it!"

Marquee was well at work in the parking lot, kicking through streams of flame and dodging fireballs as if he were straight out of the Avatar series. During the brief fight, parts of his clothes had been burned away, leaving half of his torso exposed, as well as one leg of his slacks. He jerked to the side as Tabitha yelled, grappling the demon's arm behind her back. "Wait!" He grunted and lost his footing as the demon flipped him down onto the asphalt. Taking a fireball to the chest, he rolled away from her and ripped off his burning shirt, shivering as the night air rolled through the lot. "I'm losing too much...demon blood." He was beginning to wheeze, but pointed at Tabitha. "If you can get a clear aim, Tabby Cat, petrify us both." He shrugged. "Or just the fire demon. Whichever suits your fancy best."

"You're asking me to throw something?" Her laugh had an edge to it. "That's a show of trust." The agents next to her seemed to agree with their wide eyes. Even so, she drew back her arm and waited for a moment when the demon turned her back to Tabitha. The charm wobbled through the air in a shaken arc, landing with a resounding snap on the demon's shoulder. As it started to slide down the demon's back, a trail of grey followed it, with stone tendrils reaching around to slowly cover her body. There was a bother snap as the petrifaction ended. Tabs waited a second then hurried forward. "Marquee, are you okay? It didn't touch you, did it?"

Marquee scrambled away from the petrified demon, checking his body for any sign of the stone skin spell taking root. At a final glance, he found a speck on his handcuff. "I'm...I'm alright." A pause. "I'd like a nap, though." Tabitha saw him wobble and couldn't quite get to him in time before he dropped to the ground, cold.
You read faster than Usaine Bolt sprints xD - Deanie 2014

I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. - Cathy, Wuthering Heights





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Sun Jan 25, 2015 8:17 am
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Auxiira says...



EPISODE 3

CONTRACTS




Tabitha - Dodgy Contract

Before Tabs left her bungalow, she made sure that she had sent Sophie a text to warn her that she wouldn't be in that day, cause of a cold. It was her usual excuse for contracts, and clients had rarified enough recently for it to seem viable that she was ill every month or so. She had considered asking Sophie to tell Marquee that she wouldn't be around, but then she knew her friend would jump to conclusions, and she didn't need that kind of attention directed at her when she went to the 3-0-7-3.

She had tried the night before to convince herself to wear nice clothes, be more open, but a wave of anxiety had shattered that resolve before it had even had time to concretise itself. Meeting new clients was hard enough. It had always been slightly paradoxical, in her mind, that she had ended up working in a way that required her to meet new people, when she had a pretty significant problem with doing so. She had thought that Marquee had changed that, barrelling as he did through most of what she had established to protect herself, but apparently he was a special case.

Tabs paused on the thought, then filed it away for later examination. Her glasses perched on top of her beanie, she made her way to the centre of town, trying to sooth the ball of nerves in her stomach. Only the tips of her fringe protruded from the beanie, with the rest curled up inside. Every so often, she'd push it away from her eyes. She found herself waiting at the bus stop for a bus she didn't want to take to get to the industrial area. Her newest client had picked a strange place - but not the strangest, that had been a funfair - to meet. But then often they were strange, eccentric people who paid extremely well, so it was a profitable exchange for a few uncomfortable interactions.

As she knocked on the door to the offices stuck to a huge warehouse, Tabs straightened up her jacket - less bulky than usual - and tried to get her shoulders to drop, to no avail. As she pressed on what seemed to be a doorbell, she quickly scanned the building for outer charms or spells. She pushed her glasses to the top of her head and let her eyes relax. There was a residual spell clinging to the walls of the warehouse, but nothing on the office block. Interesting. The intercom to her left buzzed and a distorted voice blared out.

"Yes?" A short snap, what she was more or less used to.

"I'm here to see a Mr Litton about a contract." There was a slight shake to her voice, and she hoped they couldn't tell through the intercom.

A pause, then the buzz of a magnetic lock releasing. The door in front of her clicked. "Please come in, Miss."

She pushed the door open, mentally berating her slightly shaking hand, then jumped as the door clicked shut behind her. A bulky man who reminded her somewhat of Brian came out of a door on the side of the corridor in front of her and gestured for her to come. As she paced down the corridor, she rubbed her hands on her jeans then tried to pull herself up, breathing evenly. It was stupid to be nervous like this before every contract.

As she turned through the door, she nodded at the apparent and affected her business smile. Striding over to the desk, she stuck out her hand waiting for it to be shaken before starting.

"Mr Litton, I'm your contractor, Ms Ayala. I understand you have need for my services?" She sat in the chair in front of the desk slowly taking in the man before her. He looked like a business-man, unremarkable in his suit that seemed to fit better in some places in others, but with piercing grey eyes which seemed to draw her in. Unusual grey eyes.

"Yes, very nice to meet you, I'm sure." She could feel him appraising her, and forced herself to sit still, holding her head high. "You're not quite... what I expected."

She broadened her smile, withholding a sigh. "I hear that often, but no one's ever been dissatisfied with any of my contracts."

He smiled at her thinly. "Well, we'll see." She was used to clients making themselves mysterious. If it helped their ego, then it usually helped her pocket.

"May I ask you what you need supernatural services for, Mr Litton?" He pinned her with a glare.

"Just a few questions first." Again with the self-importance. She responded to the questions as truthfully as she wanted to, letting her mind wander to relieve the boredom of the of the formalities. A mental puzzle Marquee had given her started to run through her head.

"Would you be capable of summoning a demon?" The question cut through her quiet musings. She met the man's eyes.

"Mr Litton, I will not summon a demon for any quantity of money." Her voice had frosted over, and she was slightly surprised how opposed she was to doing it.

"My dear, you are young." She heard the bulky man pace towards her. "Did I say anything about money?"

Her heart was the only sound filling the space. She sucked in a breath, trying to ignore her slowly constricting ribs and the dizziness turning the world. She gripped the edge of the chair. "I'm sure this is unnecessary." She breathed, trying to still the shaking that had started.

"Really? Weren't you about to refuse my offer?" She chewed her lip.

"I'm sure that you understand that I am more than aware of the risks involved in summoning a demon, and I have the moral integrity to not purposefully bring that kind of danger into this dimension." Maybe having Marquee around stressing her out had been beneficial. She probably would've been a mess of a panic attack by now. She could feel it slowly creeping up on her, but pushed it down.

"Get off your high horse, girl. You don't get work through a place like you do unless you've crawled around in shit for a couple of years." Tabitha stiffened, feeling the lie she had established crumble. He smirked. "Thought so. Moral integrity indeed. You just want money in your pocket, the same as the rest of the filth."

Tabs stuffed her hands into her pocket so he couldn't see her shaking and slid down in her chair a little. "I've gotten out of there now though. Just looking for a living." She could bluff through it. She had done it before. "I s'pose, if I had the right price, I could summon a demon. Depending on what you want, it would cost more, though." He smiled, like an alligator that's caught its prey.

"If I do summon a demon though," she continued, trying desperately to find a way out of the situation. "I can't do it with what I carry. I need mor-" The bulky man - not a bodyguard, she realised that now, hired muscle - jerked her from her seat and lead her by a tightly encircled arm down the corridor and through a large sliding door into the warehouse she had seen from the outside. Everything she could possible need or want to cast a summoning was along one wall. Her eyes lingered on a low window before tuning back to Litton.

"Well, yes, this is enough," she answered to the silent question, moving to one of the tables. She began to fiddle with the cloth there. "I need to know which demon you want to summon. Mr Litton pointed to a page pinned to the wall. She took it down, the name automatically running through her head for references. Class A. She swallowed quietly.

"This will cost you."

"Don't worry about that." Tabs nodded.

"I need to be able to concentrate without people peering over my shoulder." She had more of a chance of getting away without the client there. He peered at her suspiciously, but left. She picked a few jars and started to grind their contents together. He probably trusted his muscle to be able to take care of the 'filth'. Though she didn't like to admit it, filth probably was what she had been before 3-0-7-3, before Grimm found her.

Running away from foster care had seemed like a good idea when she had been 15, a brilliant way to be free and away from adults. It hadn't been anything like what she'd expected. Cold street corners and doorways. Muggings and loosing everything she had and almost dying ranked basically at the top of her bad experiences. Threats of rape and beatings were a given if she somehow wandered into a gang area. She had managed to spend almost a year in homeless housing, and she had made friends. Once she had been old enough to take seriously, she had skittered through jobs, barely managing to hold onto enough money to feed herself, before finding the place she still got contracts through.

Seedy and taking a pretty large percentage until they realised that you were smart enough to read, supernatural was their thing. When she had been a kid, Tabs had been fascinated with demons and the likes, and as she started to work for them, everything came filtering back. And then Grimm found her. 4 years on the streets and she found a place where she could be safe and have enough to take care of herself and then some. But she still couldn't let go of everything, so she contracted for both, and had somehow ended up in this situation.

She sighed and neatly tied off the little bag she had made. Sticking it into her pocket, she started to mix the ingredients that would actually cast the spell for the summoning, before stopping as the muscle stood next to her.

"Can I help you, big guy?" She asked, turning to look up at him.

"What did you put in your pocket?"

"Nothing." Tabs stuck her hands inside the coat, trying to find a lighter as her other hand grabbed the little bag. "Just a lighter. You need a flame to make half of this." He frowned. "Also to burn this." She light the end of the bag and held it in her palm, holding it away from her.

He took his gun from its holster and made a move to bash her on the head with it. Better to knock someone out then to kill them, apparently. As the bag smoked, she moved away, but he still managed to clip her down the side of her face. He blinked, looked at the gun, then back at her. She dropped the bag and waved at him.

"Night night." He dropped to the floor with a thud. Tabs stared at him for a second before grabbing her bag and running to the window. The latch jammed but she finally managed to get it open and get out. She dusted herself off before pacing away from the warehouse, forcing herself not to run. Running brought attention to yourself.

As she sat on the bus back into town, she started to shudder, breathing shallowly as she fully took account of what had happened. Paranoia nipped at her heels, and getting home involved more detours than she'd normally take. She slid the bolts on her door into place and made herself a coffee.
You read faster than Usaine Bolt sprints xD - Deanie 2014

I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. - Cathy, Wuthering Heights





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Mon Jan 26, 2015 2:51 am
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Blackwood says...



Jenson - Asleep For All Intensive Purposes

Dreaming in a demon mind was not much different from being pinned to the front of a ten wheeler truck while getting your arm eaten by a wolf and slamming through an iceberg before getting set on green fire. As much as you could say it was by no means comforting, it was by far...exhilarating , and Jenson was rather enjoying himself up until he felt something light, warm, and uncomfortably real, brush up against his arm.
He moaned, rolling over and pulling his pillowcase across his face.
"Kite. What did I tell you about never waking me up. Ever."

Something shifted through his covers. A weight lowered onto his other pillows, and something sniffed three times, quickly, almost like a dog would. "I wouldn't know," chimed a familiar, annoying, cheerful Brit. "To be honest, I've never been in a bed this uncomfortable before."

Jenson lurched harder and faster than when the truck had initially slammed him, jumping a full meter across the blankets before tumbling off the side.
"WHAT THE F-" He started, gathering himself to his feet with not even an ounce of sleep left in his eyes.
"What in hell are you doing in my bed!? In my house!?"

Through blurry eyes, the demon jailer Marquee shrugged and nestled into the pillows more snugly. "Kite let me in. Said it'd be healthy for you t'wake up to a friendly face." He beamed. "Of course I couldn't resist!"

Jenson could barely contain his anger- correction, he couldn't contain his anger. He must have let slip- something that had never happened before. Maybe evoked by the subconscious knowledge that this worm already knew his secret. He felt the backs of his eyes heat up, his skin prickle in fury. Before he knew it he was chanting in the old demon tongue the words that youths would often declare when they wanted to rip one anthers guts out. The declaration of a duel.

Marquee gasped and jumped from the bed, rebounding off the wall in a parkour roll to the floor. "Jenson White! I came here to put a smile on your face and you--" He stood, brushing off the sleeves of his blazer. "You have ruined a perfectly presentable morning!" With a flourish, he turned and grabbed the closest doorknob. "I reject your ancient angry-boy fist-fight and will take my leave."

Jenson grinned as he twisted the knob.

"I'll see you at the funer--" The door swung open and Marquee's eyes ran wide with horror. "No!" He fell to the floor and began to claw at the carpet, his feet sucked into a void in the back of the closet. "I object!"

Jenson only let his smile grow. A perfect opportunity to get rid of the worm once and for all. The portal to hell he had always harbored in his bedroom wardrobe had finally come in use thanks to that idiots stupidity. He took a running start and tackled the squirming suited figure, sending them both tumbling into the pits of ice and darkness, the breeze gently closing the closet door behind them.

Marquee groaned as he opened his eyes, the swirling, omnipresent spirit gate in the sky a dark, painful reminder that he was back in the frozen depths of Bloody Hell Where Is He--

Marquee swept to his feet and habitually dusted his sleeves of the ice crystals sticking to the fabric. "Jenson!" he called, his voice rebounding off the spirit walls of the spirit dungeon where spirits were trapped in every nook and corner. He bore his teeth together and shivered. "I don't want to fight you, Jenson! It's quite the opposite, really! I wanted to make amends." He shifted. "For burning your arm in Space's cell!" He sighed. "For knowing about this!" Something shifted behind him, and he turned to inspect the movement. "Jenson, please, can we just--"

Jenson let out a deep throated laugh. He normally considered himself a good guy, but Hell sure bought out the worst in him. Besides, it wasn't like Marquee was a human. He was a mere worm. A worm that probably, he would spare from destroying for all eternity, and just rough up a bit. The worm looked so small and he stood, shivering in his blazer upon the vast frozen floor. Jenson felt his human skin dropping in opacity as he unfurled his fists.
"You'll pay for this. Nobody wakes me up. Or goes in my bed." He took the stance of ancient demon martial arts and eyed Marquee furiously. "You can not reject this duel, worm."

"Then forgive me," Marquee began, "if I defend myself from a real threat in the form of your body." Marquee removed his blazer and tossed it aside. His skin began to blacken, to shift in shape at its own will. He took a pause, though, and closed his eyes. "I will simply ask that this be resolved tod--!!" A lightning-speed fist crossed his jaw, twisting his neck, popping loose tendons and tearing muscle, down against his shoulder blade. His body shifted and shirt began to tear as his muscles enlarged. His eyes glossed over a deep red and he crouched, sensing for the next strike.

Jens roared, his voice had changed. Echoy and demonic. His hair and skin had lost all colour to match his iris-less eyes. Two winding horns protruded from his temples as he launched himself toward the changing worm, claws ready to rip at that slimy skin. Marquee had not yet transformed in full, but the black gunk had already started to spread, taking Jenson by surprise. It was difficult to grip onto and he found his hands slipping down the mans arms. Marquee's eyes held a blank stare, staring into space, a serene smile still decorating his face. Like he had accepted his fate and was ready to burn in Heaven. Jenson hesitated, wondering if he would mercilessly finish him in one blow when Marquee's figure stiffened for a moment then with a blast, dissipated into a cloud of cold and wettish powder. Jenson coughed, waving his hands to bat the dust from his face, seeing as it cleared, Marquees clothes, folded neatly on the ground, beside a massive worm hole, drilled into the ice.

Marquee had his eyes covered in protective fluid, masking his sight from the earth he drilled apart. His senses extended beyond his body, however, and gave him sights on Jenson's position. He circled beneath the ice and hesitated before charging the surface, enormous mouth open wide enough to swallow Jenson whole. Inside his body, circular rows of razor teeth invited the body in. Jenson held on against the gaping worm with his hands and feet spread wide to keep his body from falling in. Marquee veered downward once gravity began to tug at him, ready to slam Jenson into the ice below. At the last second, Jenson flipped from his defense to grip Marquee's head between his legs, riding the demon worm like a wild horse. Marquee slammed into icy walls, into stalagmites and stalactites and roared with anguish as he lost control of his motions. As he veered once again for the ice below, Jenson reared back and struck a fist down into the demon's head, blacking out Marquee's sense of surroundings.

Jenson tightened his grip on the bucking worm, who flailed up and down with no direction. It finally slammed down onto the surface of the ice, landing Jenson hard against his back. He winced, but since nothing had cracked, began to pull himself around from under the worms body. He pushed upward, using his clawed fist to plunge it into the middle of the worm. It squealed, making a horrible worm sound as it began to shrink back into the shape of a man. Jenson pulled out his hand and Marquee stood once again small and panting. At first Jenson thought he was going to once again beg, but the worm was more relentless than expected and tackled Jenson furiously, sending them both sliding across the ice in a grapple.

They both struggled for control as they tumbled through the throes of ice. But after a chance strike of Jenson's head against solid stone, Marquee had the upper hand--literally--over Jenson's heart. With his little remaining strength, Marquee transformed his hand into a spinning demon drill, ready to plunge into Jenson's chest. They both panted. Marquee's naked skin burned against the cold. Jenson struggled to keep his head up, but felt the drill against his chest and swore under his breath. "My final offer, Jenson White, is for our trespasses to be forgotten."

Jenson glared, allowing the worm another second of his false victory. Marquee Sighed heavily, waiting for Jenson to agree. That was what he wanted. He was a merciful worm, and would much rather have a verbal surrender than need to finish a battle properly.
"Why do you hate me so?" He tried again, looking apologetic.
"Because they accept you so easily. And I will never surrender to any propositions you make." Jens replied.
Marquee gave the final sigh, this time making it as exaggerated as he possibly could and pushed the drill downward onto Jensons chest. For a moment he seemed satisfied, but the expression quickly changed to confusion, as his drill would not drill. Jensons laugh returned.
"You thought you could so easily damage a demon triple your class?" He punched his first through Marquee's throat.
Marquee reeled, squirming on the ground, all traces of his demon form vanished. He felt the power draining out of him, the feeling of sickness as his soul was turned inside out and back again.
Jenson's head cooled and he allowed his skin to retain its colour again, panting lightly. Breathing heavily. Marquee pulled himself to a sitting position, doubling over and rubbing his neck that was gradually reforming itself. Jenson reached out his hand to help the worm up.
"Never wake me up again. Ever"

Marquee squinted through the pain running riots through his body and took Jenson's hand. Closing his eyes, he nodded. "My apologies, Master. It appears that in my excitement to know you, I'd overlooked what it was your were hiding." He shadowstepped to his clothes and began pulling things on.
"Don't test me." Jenson snarled. "With sarcasm like that, next time I won't stop at the end of the duel."

Marquee shook his head, a sorrowful gaze watching Jenson's battered body in the fading spiritual light. "There is no sarcasm, I fear." He hesitated a moment before folding his arms across his chest, feeling the cuts and bruises and occasional bite marks. Does he even know who he is? He stepped into his shoes and approached Jenson again, holding out his hand. "Kite has entered your room. We should return before you decide to duel him."

Jenson leered and clawed into Marquee's hands, teleporting them out of the demon world. The bedroom closet spat them out and they landed, together, shirtless--battered, bruised, bitten, cut, and ruffle-haired--at Kite's feet.

The man backed up and looked down at the two, a piece of bacon half in his hand and half in his teeth. He chewed and swallowed. "Huh." It was all he could muster. Marquee's face flushed red with the sheer implications. "I made breakfast. You two should...eat...something." His feet backed out of the room and the door closed gently behind him.

Marquee struggled for a bit of breath under Jenson's weight. "I fear now that being demons is no longer our greatest secret."
Hahah....haha.....ahahaha.








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