Justice League: The New Wave (IC)

[kizkiz]

A knight and a chimera wrestle

Serrah was enraged. Her lion's mouth opened wide and howled. Her leathery wings banked on the building's updraft flying up several hundreds of feet. Her body turned with the draft, barrel rolling to the side and finding Constantine crouched below in his gleaming silver plate mail.

Kiz emerged from the blizzard, tilting his head up to watch the path of Serrah through the air.

>>Kill. Kill. Kill.<<

Kiz was curious enough to see if the armor granted strength to match its protection. He stepped up to the edge of the building, but the distance would make attuning hard. Not impossible, but he'd hate to appear in the middle of a person's body. That never ended well for anyone. Serrah banked in a spiral below him. Kiz instead fixed a ledge several stories below on an adjacent building and teleported there. He hopped back and forth between the buildings until he was three stories above Constantine. He watched as Serrah barreled into the man and attempted to pin his sword arm down in the maw of her mouth. Kiz gave her fair odds, plate mail wasn't the best choice for grappling with a crazed nightmare.

 

[Aussie_Wolf]

Pulling her chains loose she snapped it back and then forwards, links fired like a spray of red hot bullets. Each of them in a narrow field. Each of them ripping through the fucking body rider that had dared shoot her.

Walking forwards, blood seeping from her own wounds even as they closed, her boots scuffed on the floor, the chain snapping in her fist.

Connor couldn't believe his eyes. What the fuck had that been? One second he had been watching the shadowy area where he was sure the creep was even now clutching his hand in pain with an arrow sticking through it.

The next blazing...well things had flown across the room, lighting it up and thudded into the mans chest. He had been thrown back and had landed in a heap, but that was not the weird part, oh no. The weird thing was the demonic like figure that superimposed itself over the guy for a second and the way the flames seemed to rip into that body.

Connor lowered his bow. Hell he wasn't even sure if it would do any good despite the fact he had obviously hurt the guy. Then his 'Partner' came into view below him and he got another shock. She was bleeding from several bullet wounds and leaving a blood trail behind her, but it didn't seem to be effecting her in the slightest. Wrapped around her fist was the chain with a length dangling from it and he guessed that was somehow the source of the blazing projectiles. Chain links would have been about that size. Just how she did it...well that was her business.

As he continued to look down he realized the blood trail behind her was disappearing. Okay add rapid healing to her growing list of abilities. The other problem was she was going to get to the guy way before him if he had to run back down the fire escape and back through the front door.

Sighing he placed the arrow in his quiver and secured them, then put the bow on his back. He hated doing this next part. Spying a beam he leaped through the broken window and caught it, flowing from it to a support beam and flying around it in several loops getting closer to the ground, before letting go, performing a forward somersault and landing in a crouch.

Standing up he looked over at the advancing woman and then the downed guy. Pointing at him he asked "He's not human right? I should probably leave this up to you, but we both know that's not going to happen."

Still he did allow her to take the lead and this time as he again readied his bow, he knocked one of his few trick arrows.

 

[Varshanka]

Standing up he looked over at the advancing woman and then the downed guy. Pointing at him he asked "He's not human right? I should probably leave this up to you, but we both know that's not going to happen."

Turning her head she slowly shook it. No he wasn’t human. Not exactly anyways.

Shrugging she turned and looked at the wounded deamon. Cracking her neck she felt the chains writhe and with a look hidden behind the Helmet she shrugged. Shit never works out anyways.

"انصرف أزازايل. ويلقي لكم بكلماته واسم من فائف الموتى. انصرف خادماً للدائرة التاسعة. انصرف خائن السماوات العالية. مرتين اسم إليك أزازايل. موظف واحد ملعون ويلقي لكم من الطائرة بشري للواقع. " Reaching out with leather gloves and metal studs she wrapped her fingers around his throat as he started to speak a word.. or a name. A name that started with and X.. or a Z.

The metal studs melted and flowed, coating the leather as it flowed up her arms. The chains broke apart and reformed, joining the armour as she spoke in the forgotten and forbidden speech of the celestials. To mortal ears it was like an off tune whistle at a high pitch, backwards. Across a chalk board with nails.

Jabbing her fingers down his throat she latched onto something.. and pulled.

Screaming the man.. the mortal jumped and writhed, clawing at her. Trying to get through the helmet. Through her leathers. Anything to get her to stop.

Kicking and screaming he thrashed and fought as she continued to speak. And then he looked at Conner, his eyes begging him to help. To stop her.

 

[Aussie_Wolf]

Turning her head she slowly shook it. No he wasn’t human. Not exactly anyways.

Shrugging she turned and looked at the wounded deamon. Cracking her neck she felt the chains writhe and with a look hidden behind the Helmet she shrugged. Shit never works out anyways.

"انصرف أزازايل. ويلقي لكم بكلماته واسم من فائف الموتى. انصرف خادماً للدائرة التاسعة. انصرف خائن السماوات العالية. مرتين اسم إليك أزازايل. موظف واحد ملعون ويلقي لكم من الطائرة بشري للواقع. " Reaching out with leather gloves and metal studs she wrapped her fingers around his throat as he started to speak a word.. or a name. A name that started with and X.. or a Z.

Great. Getting confirmation that the guy he had been chasing was not really a guy but something else entirely, did not fill Connor with joy. At the same time he wondered just who or what his new companion was that knew all this at a glance.

Connor watched as she approached the guy and was surprised when he actually raised his head and started to speak. he had thought he was out for the count. He had certainly looked it not two seconds ago.

The metal studs melted and flowed, coating the leather as it flowed up her arms. The chains broke apart and reformed, joining the armour as she spoke in the forgotten and forbidden speech of the celestials. To mortal ears it was like an off tune whistle at a high pitch, backwards. Across a chalk board with nails.

He winced as the most awful sound he had ever heard emanated from the helmet of the biker. If that was her voice no wonder she didn't talk much. Still he wondered why her arms suddenly looked like ancient armor. It had been a neat trick and he was beginning to feel like a gnat beside a God.

Jabbing her fingers down his throat she latched onto something.. and pulled.

Screaming the man.. the mortal jumped and writhed, clawing at her. Trying to get through the helmet. Through her leathers. Anything to get her to stop.

Kicking and screaming he thrashed and fought as she continued to speak. And then he looked at Conner, his eyes begging him to help. To stop her.

Connor started to get worried. Just what was she doing to him. He moved a few steps closer but then decided to wait. he had watched a lot of horror films as a kid and he knew what he had seen. If that guy wasn't possessed he would eat his bow. So maybe what was going on looked bad, but considering what he had seen he would err on the side of caution. Still if she didn't pull out a demon pretty soon he was going to have to shoot her, and he was going to look even more foolish if she pulled out his heart or lungs.

 

[Varshanka]

Connor started to get worried. Just what was she doing to him. He moved a few steps closer but then decided to wait. he had watched a lot of horror films as a kid and he knew what he had seen. If that guy wasn't possessed he would eat his bow. So maybe what was going on looked bad, but considering what he had seen he would err on the side of caution. Still if she didn't pull out a demon pretty soon he was going to have to shoot her, and he was going to look even more foolish if she pulled out his heart or lungs.

Looking over the Biker chick seemed to dare Connor to intervene. Even with her face hidden and her eyes unseen, just the way the helmet was tilted was a dare. “Do not interfere,” a phrase spoken in the mortal tongue of Angalise, but that was no human voice.

Turning back to the murdering raping thief she began speaking again in that horrific speech. "ثلاث مرات أنا اسم إليك أزازايل. ثلاث مرات فإنك بد، وثلاث مرات أنت الفن يختفي من عالم الموتى. Ripping her arm back she pulled something inky dark and made of shadow and fire from his throat.

“You can deal with what’s left.. ah fuck it.” That horrific voice said turned towards him, but at the last instant she turned back to the hooligan and lifted her visor.

The scream that ripped from him made his hand piercing sound like a cat’s meow. Skin wrinkled as hair paled and his eyes darkened. “Penance..” that nail on a chalkboard voice whispered. And then she lowered her visor and shrugged.

 

[Aussie_Wolf]

Connor watched as she pulled forth something dark and wreathed in fire from the guys throat. He hadn't really needed her warning to stay back but as she told him he could take control he moved forward. At least he could do that.

Then she had turned back and lifted her visor showing the guy her face. He hadn't caught a glimpse, but whatever was under that helmet must be pretty bad because the guy had screamed so bad, Connor had actually backed up a few steps.

The poor guys hair had turned grey and his skin had turned a sickly pale as it wrinkled and his eyes had become all black. Whatever he had seen had literally frightened him half to death. Still considering what he had been about to do and had probably done in the past Connor was not too put out.

He again put his bow and arrows away and walked forth and grabbed the guy. he doubted he would give him any trouble. Still he just could not resist looking at the biker again.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side, although do you do that to someone that takes you out on a bad date?"

Damn his mouth. It was really going to get him in trouble one of these days.

 

[Varshanka]

"Remind me never to get on your bad side, although do you do that to someone that takes you out on a bad date?"

Shrugging the biker babe stood back up watching as Robin Hood dealt with the villain. “Never know, Never had a date that bad. Are you asking me out?” she asked. She hadn’t had an type of romantic, or casual, liaison in centuries. Being what she was tended to preclude that. Besides things when bad if they tried to.. assault her.

Arching her back she popped several mortal vertebrae, her ass and tits defined rather nicely. “Do you ride?” she asked.

 

[Aussie_Wolf]

Shrugging the biker babe stood back up watching as Robin Hood dealt with the villain. “Never know, Never had a date that bad. Are you asking me out?” she asked.
Arching her back she popped several mortal vertebrae, her ass and tits defined rather nicely. “Do you ride?” she asked.

Connor was surprised at her response and at the way her voice had changed. Well he had asked her out in a round about way and he was certainly not going to make her angry by refusing to take her out. Besides she was very good looking, despite the fact he hadn't seen her face.

"Sure, it would be my pleasure to take you out. I do ride but I have a feeling you are going to be very disappointed in the bike I have."

Connor thought about the Bike he had left in an alleyway near where he had first heard the woman's cry for help. He doubted it was anything like what this woman was used to riding.

 

[Varshanka]

“Interesting choice of words. Pleasure to take you out… Very interesting. “ She said as she looked him over. “You planning on doing something with him?” She asked gesturing to the hoodlum, as she walked towards the broken door.

Stepping out into the night she turned her head. “Where do you wanna go?” she finally asked. “A ballroom, or a bar? Maybe a nice quiet romantic movie and a meal?” It almost sounded like she was testing him. Or taunting him.

“It may be easier to meet there, so we can get our respective vehicles.”

 

[LuckyVic]

Washington D.C. 03:30

Damian had been waiting in the park area for hours just watching the now abandoned building. It was actually the second incarnation of the building since the original had been destroyed. But one thing that hadn’t changed about it was that it was just the publicly known headquarters of the Justice League, every few people knew where the real one used to be. This building was nothing more than a tourist front, however that also meant that they had to have some League equipment here in order to keep up appearances. Among that equipment was three Javelin class ships, three ships that were about pressed back into service.

He waited until he was sure that the security detail was going to be tired, even though the league was no longer using it, his father made sure that the security and staff was still employed and manning it. That actually made things easier for him since he was able to get access to work schedules. He chose the perfect time to sneak into the building and moved around the walking patrols. Even when he gained access to the restricted area, that is except for the view gallery above, it was without anyone’s knowledge. The next part was far harder.

Damian had to hack into the computer in order to access the security door to the lower levels. That was where the league’s zeta tubes as well as the underground hanger were located. He was shocked that the league computer was the same system as the one in the Batcave. It made it far too easy for him to gain access to. It didn’t take him as long as he thought it was going to and soon the door opened for him. A camera lowered… no that wasn’t quite right. It was more than just a camera. It scanned him and then then it spoke to him. “Recognize Robin…”

“System update new designation…Nightwing.” Damian stated.

“Correction recognize Nightwing.” The computer said and then the door opened giving him access.

After about forty-five minutes in the hanger he was ready. He inputted the code into the Javelin’s computer and then watched as all three ships came online. He engaged the stealth capabilities and then opened the hanger bay and performed a perfect Vertical takeoff, after all he had been flying since he was 10 years old.

A few hours later he was landing one of the Javelins on the roof of what was for now the Justice League headquarters. The other two he had put away in a secret hanger. At least until they were needed or had the room for them.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Dragonslayer? I 'ardly know 'er!

Kiz was curious enough to see if the armor granted strength to match its protection.

One of the most curious things discovered by people who studied metahumanity was the recurring tendency towards synergy.

If a person developed one superhuman ability (sometimes, but not always) they might also accrue other, Required Secondary Abilities that interconnected with that ability.

If a person gained the ability to fly, for instance, they might develop heightened visual acuity for seeing things from far away and high up, and perhaps tolerances to atmospheric extremes. If a person gained the ability to walk through walls, very often they would gain an aura that allowed them to take clothes and objects (and air from their lungs!) through walls with them.

Similarly, a person who exhibited superhuman strength very often (but not always) exhibited an increased durability as a result, as their body adapted to exerting greater forces, their muscles and skin would be less likely to rip, their bones and tendons would be less likely to snap. On the other side of that particular coin, a person who received the benefit of invulnerability might then display some attributes like unto superhuman strength, because they could exert and endure greater forces without injuring themselves.

That person might, perhaps, not be able to lift a car over their head... but they might be able to catch a car if it were dropped on them, by bracing their body in position and trusting their indestructibility to keep the car from crushing them under its weight.

This was the nature of Constantine in the armor. Its mystic plating conferred upon him the sort of legendary durability you might expect from Beowulf or Paul Bunyan-- and so he was capable of enduring a rapid, chilly descent down the side of a multi-story building and landing on his feet. Just as he was capable of walking through an inferno without breaking a sweat.

But it did not make him as strong as the dragons he was suited up to fight. Just uniquely positioned to endure them.

He watched as Serrah barreled into the man and attempted to pin his sword arm down in the maw of her mouth.

Constantine hadn't been as quick as Serrah even without the armor slowing him down-- the fact that she was part leonine conferred on her literally catlike reflexes-- but wearing the armor he was reduced to an even more plodding pace.

She would be able to snag his empty right gauntlet as easy as catching a Frisbee in the park.

But the trouble with latching onto a part of a man's body when he's slow-moving with a terrible field of vision... is it means he knows right where you are.

And with repeated grunts of exertion and dismay, Constantine attempted to capitalize on that intel by trying to bludgeon Serrah with his free left fist.

"GERROFF. ME. MITT!"

 

[kizkiz]

Knock, knock. Who's there? Land Shark!

"Hmm," Kiz said, watching the two battle.

Serrah tried to jump into the air with Constantine's sword arm in her lion's maw. Constantine smacked her on the snout. Serrah's goat head rammed her horns into his plated face. The pair teetered but no matter how many times Serrah's lion head got smashed or Constantine's helm got rammed, his feet remained on the ground. He looked like a reed swaying in the face of a hurricane.

Serrah's tail arched over her back, the snake opening wide and spewing flaming jelly all over both them. The pavement caught on fire. A nearby car got a gout of the napalm. The flaming jelly ate through the exterior until it caught the fuel line. A moment later the whole thing exploded sending shrapnel everywhere.

Kiz turned, lifting his fur coat up to his face, catching a shard of glass and several twisted, burning chunks of metal. His coat wasn't designed to withstand a direct blast of Chimeric napalm, but Ulark endured. Kiz snapped the coat, sending the pieces back to the ground.

More and more spurts of napalm coated the pair. The greasy flame clung to everything. It ate through a fire hydrant; the water burst through and shot thirty feet into the air. Serrah roared, her back muscles bunching, but John didn't topple.

Kiz uncrossed his arms. He took a deep breath and held it. The collateral damage would mount, but he no longer thought either participant would gain an edge anytime soon.

>>Shanker, my love, I require your aid in settling a matter.<<

>>Does he? We are so hungry...<<

"Fuck." Kiz swore, looking around the scene. The hysteric pedestrians screamed and ran. The sides of buildings were scorching, crumbling, and turning to ash. He craned his head at the buildings. They'd be destroyed if all of Shanker materialized. The pedestrians would be smashed like ants beneath a child's foot. She'd try to eat the city. It'd been too long since she'd been fully unveiled.

>>Just a small portion, my love. There is an artifact in the snow above, it will sate you, but only after, my love.<<

>>Is it delicious, Great One?<<

>>It devours souls, my love. It is a child of the moon.<<

>>Will he let us take it?<<

>>Yes, my love.<<

>>We will settle the Great One's matter.<<

The pair below him continued to wrestle without making any progress. The street was ablaze with napalm. Bikes, newspaper stands, cars, and sides of buildings were melting to slag. The water gushing from the hydrant wasn't helping; it pushed the napalm further around the scene.

>>Serrah, you've failed. Relinquish.<<

>>No! No! No! <<
>>Kill! Eat! Hatred!<<

Kiz gave a small shake of his head, pushing against Serrah's presence. The pressure mounted in his head as she resisted banishment. Only one of his prisoners ever wanted to go back. His eyes narrowed, and his hand gripped the side of the window. Pain blossomed along the inside of his skull; it mixed with the foggy haze of sleep deprivation.

>>No! No! No! <<
>>Kill! Eat! Hatred!<<

Serrah shrieked, pushing away from Constantine. Kiz continued to cram Serrah back into the void of his soul. She tried to leap into the air but staggered and crashed into the side of a building instead. Kiz caught her in his mind.

>>No! No! No! <<
>>No! No! No! <<
>>No! No! No! <<

He swept aside Serrah and her napalm. Those things that had caught on fire remained so, but at least the entire city block wasn't in danger anymore. More than that, all that flame cancelled out all of the shadows in the area. With most of the flames gone, those that lingered cast odd shadows. The sun's light that did make it past the buildings cast further shadows.

Constantine had a breath before Shanker slunk out of the shadow he cast. Her pitch black head was as large as a man's hand, and it opened as fast as a man could turn that fist into a vice grip. Her fangs dripped caustic poison. They dented the calf of Constantine's left greave, before Shanker retreated back into the shadows like a shark diving back neath the ocean.

It was obvious Constantine enjoyed talking, so Kiz decided to remain silent. He wasn't a fan of monologuing or revealing his plans, and earlier conversations hadn't distracted Constantine. Instead, Kiz watched Shanker's movement through the various shadows around the intersection. After Constantine had enough time to whirl around a few times, Shanker struck again hitting the same spot. The residual venom had continued to eat away at the armor. Shanker hit with the impact of a charging rhinoceros. Her fangs bit deeper into the armor, injecting another round of venom.

 

[ChasNicollette]

...we're gonna need a bigger boat.

Serrah tried to jump into the air with Constantine's sword arm in her lion's maw. Constantine smacked her on the snout. Serrah's goat head rammed her horns into his plated face. The pair teetered but no matter how many times Serrah's lion head got smashed or Constantine's helm got rammed, his feet remained on the ground. He looked like a reed swaying in the face of a hurricane.

Inside the armor, Constantine could barely see a thing. But he could feel every ringing impact turning the suit into a churchbell... and even he was amazed that he could stay standing under such an onslaught.

He had cast a spell on the dragonslayer box to make it remember being armor... and oh, did it ever remember. Like muscle-memory, of a sort-- it remembered being the most stalwart battle-hardened knight and saint from Britain to Beirut and it rolled with the right hits and braced against the others.

He couldn't reach his arsenal-- the pockets of his coat were as trapped in the armor as he were. But no matter how enraged the Chimera became, John realized he could endure this indefinitely. He just had to wait for her to tire.

Then the game changed-- as it always did with these things.

Serrah's tail arched over her back, the snake opening wide and spewing flaming jelly all over both them. The pavement caught on fire. A nearby car got a gout of the napalm. The flaming jelly ate through the exterior until it caught the fuel line. A moment later the whole thing exploded sending shrapnel everywhere.

"BLOODY SHITE!"

Of course, of course, the original mythological Chimera could breathe fire, which the warrior Bellerophon had turned against it with an ingot of lead. But this one took it in a whole different direction to a whole 'nother level.

The whoooosh of fire igniting across his outer surfaces sent a thrill of panic down his spine-- the cacophonous groundburst of the car exploding, buffeting his already-burning shell, even more so.

Jesus wept, I hope that wasn't Chase's Buick. She'll take off me bollocks with piano-wire.

Happily, Saint George had fought dragons-- Constantine could sit pretty in this suit through an inferno and remain cool and dry as a deodorant advert. (On top of that, he'd been in Dante's actual Inferno more than once, he could stand the heat.) But that didn't say much for the world outside the suit.

Or all the huddled masses yearning to get the Hell out of a suddenly untenable Dodge.

But then, a moment of respite. Or so John thought.

Serrah shrieked, pushing away from Constantine. Kiz continued to cram Serrah back into the void of his soul. She tried to leap into the air but staggered and crashed into the side of a building instead. Kiz caught her in his mind.

John staggered as much from the sudden removal of Serrah's relentless attack as he had from any of her actual physical blows.

"Agh, Gordon Bennett--"

He swept aside Serrah and her napalm. Those things that had caught on fire remained so, but at least the entire city block wasn't in danger anymore.

John tried to sweep the field of battle with his gaze-- he could barely see anything-- was the Chimera gone? ...was there less fire now?

...what was...?

Oh. Shite.

Constantine had a breath before Shanker slunk out of the shadow he cast. Her pitch black head was as large as a man's hand, and it opened as fast as a man could turn that fist into a vice grip. Her fangs dripped caustic poison. They dented the calf of Constantine's left greave, before Shanker retreated back into the shadows like a shark diving back neath the ocean.

Even in this reduced form, Shanker-- The Midgard Serpent-- was whole orders of quantification removed from even the mightiest dragon that Saint George ever slew. Even made small at Kiz' command, Shanker's bite exerted enough psi to dent even the mighty plating of that ancient, blessed paladin.

To say nothing of the chemical component. In small doses, Shanker's bite would be enough to best a peak human or a low-level metahuman.

In greater quantities, it would be enough to slay Thor, Odinson, arguably the mightiest of The Aesir, after a mere nine steps.

The corrosion ate away at the physical armor, but it also caused the armor pain-- the mystical suit physically recoiled from the injected venom, shrinking and collapsing, trying to escape that impossible toxin. It ate away at the suit's memory of itself, and it began to revert to a simple metal box.

John felt all of this, though he could not see behind him, felt the serpent's bite and felt the armor wither, and he twisted to try and lash out with his fists like he had against Serrah...

...but in the light of day, he found nothing.

"Bugger me sideways--!"

After Constantine had enough time to whirl around a few times, Shanker struck again hitting the same spot. The residual venom had continued to eat away at the armor. Shanker hit with the impact of a charging rhinoceros. Her fangs bit deeper into the armor, injecting another round of venom.

And this was more than enough for the legendary armor.

It telescoped back into itself, causing John to stumble and fall on his back, the empty box plopping down on his chest, a bite mark still sizzling in its lid.

What little good the armor had been doing him against this foe was gone now. He was exposed. A wriggling worm on a fishhook for Jormungandr, a beast which ate ox-heads for bait in the legends, what was a worm to this thing?

John was very rarely frantic. But he felt that panic now, seeping into his veins.

Throughout this whole melee he had been attempting to fulfill his favor to Sky-High Helligan. To prevail over Kiz and capture him for questioning by The DEO. Even in using The Moonblade on The Void Binder, The DEO could have asked their interrogatives of Kiz' soul embedded in the weapon.

But now.

But now but now but now.

He was facing a monster that helped bring about an Apocalypse of The Gods, Ragnarok-- with nothing but his wits and his mackintosh--

--but his pockets weren't empty just yet.

He had one more gamechanger of his own.

Even as he scrambled to see where Shanker was coming from next his hand vanished into his coat pocket.

And came out... with The Ace of Winchesters.

A rifle with the power to slay demons-- and with unerring aim.

Few things could kill the things that Kiz had bound to himself in Void. That was the point-- they couldn't be killed, so Kiz bound them instead.

But this thing.

This thing could kill just about anything that could die.

He whirled and rose and stood with his shadow spilling out before him and the gun in firing position...

He blinked sweat out of his eyes.

His injuries ached and throbbed.

But the gun didn't waver.

"Right then."

"Let's get this over wiv."

 

[kizkiz]

I felt like destroying something beautiful.

Constantine was a walking armory. Kiz hated people that became dependent upon things. Things could be taken from you. Once disarmed you were no better than a turtle stripped of its shell. And now Constantine had unveiled his most potent artifact.

Kiz shook his head. How many graves of saints and armories of heroes had this man robbed? The Seven alone must seethe within their realms, plotting revenge upon Constantine. The legions of hell and the hosts of heaven must have great bounties upon this man. Constantine must have stolen half the artifacts in this world. This newest one was well known to the Time Lords. Kiz had been briefed. A grafting of demon and angelic essences, hammered with the emotion of necessity, forged in the fires of sacrifice; it was a true instrument of reaping. Kiz raised his right hand to caress the eternal ice, glittering like glass along the side of the building. The cold of just one touch could snuff out the warmth of a man's body. His hand dug into the the remains of Elivágar.

>>One moment, my love.<<

>>Where are we?<<

And that was the crux of Shanker's problem, why Shanker wanted to dwell within the void of his soul. Her body would never die -- it couldn't -- but her mind was another thing. She needed her things to remind her of herself. Each momento was a memory encapsulated, to be relived. Ragnarok had left its own scars upon Shanker's mind. Her true name was a terrible reminder of all she'd lost.

>>One moment, my love.<<

>>Yes, Great One.<<

Kiz clenched his hand into a fist around Elivágar, and he pulled. The three hundred feet of eternal ice contorted and shriveled. Like a man whipping a tablecloth off a table, the frozen river contracted back into a spear. Constantine's back was to Kiz. Constantine was now whirling with the Winchester, the barrel pointed into the shadows.

"Behind you," Kiz called out, hefting the spear in one hand. He snapped his arm. The spear hurtled forward seeking out the warmth of Constatine's body, eager to put out another fire. Kiz waited for Constantine to respond, for the man's hips to give away a commitment. He had but a moment between when Constantine's brain would register the new threat and his finger would pull the trigger. Within the space of that breath, as the barrel of the gun swung around and up, tracking and firing upon Elivágar, that Kiz dismissed the spear and teleported besides the barrel. With a hand capable of palming most men's faces, he latched onto the barrel, pulling it wide, exposing Constantine's underbelly. Kiz struck the man in his solar plexus. Not once but twice in a rapid fire burst.

Kiz knew of no mortal man that could shrug off the autonomic response to enervating the nerves and ganglia at the base of the stomach. He put all of his strength behind the pair of strikes. Like the head of a sledge hammer, he struck to break things, to let out his frustrations. He no longer cared if he shattered the man's rib cage it the process.

"You will yield." Kiz coiled his right leg, then launched an upper cut with all the force of his body. "You are done bothering me and mine." Kiz brought his right arm back, cocking it, tearing the Winchester from John's hands with his left hand. "You are done! Or I will turn your face into pulp and tatters, by the Void, I swear this thing."

 

[Aussie_Wolf]

“Interesting choice of words. Pleasure to take you out… Very interesting. “ She said as she looked him over. “You planning on doing something with him?” She asked gesturing to the hoodlum, as she walked towards the broken door.

Stepping out into the night she turned her head. “Where do you wanna go?” she finally asked. “A ballroom, or a bar? Maybe a nice quiet romantic movie and a meal?” It almost sounded like she was testing him. Or taunting him.

“It may be easier to meet there, so we can get our respective vehicles.”

Connor had been attempting to get the man on his feet, but it was like moving a sack of potatoes underwater. He seemed to respond but very sluggishly and with not much thought behind his actions. Finally he got him to stand and start walking towards the door.

Turning to look at her he gave a small smile. "Would you be surprised if I said I never expected you to take me up on my offer. I am very happy you have however but let me think for a little minute please."

He led the man to the broken car and sat him down unresistingly beside it. Looking at him he was pretty sure he was not going anywhere and he removed a cell phone from one of his pouches on his belt and made an anonymous phone call to the police reporting the car and it's occupant.

He then made his way across the road to a dark alley to watch over him indicating that the rider should join him. "Okay let's do something fun. How about we go on a ride up in the hills. I can pack a nice picnic lunch, we can fire up our bikes and just take off for awhile. It is supposed to be a really nice day, perfect riding weather. Let's just see where the road takes us, what do you say?"

 

[Varshanka]

Watching as he dragged the man over to the vehicle, propping him against it and making a phone call. He had potential as a hero.. a Galahad or Perceival. Though he was more suited to Robin Hood or Red Scarlet. But would he survive the challenge of time.

Walking over to join him she tilted her head to the side as he talked of long rides and a.. picnic?

“What’s a picnic?” she asked, her voice soft, but muffled by the helmet. What did he consider perfect riding weather? She’d encountered rainstorms to dust bowls to blizzards in her years. She doubted they shared the same ideals about what would be classified as perfect.

“When would you like to meet.. and where?” She asked suddenly stepping very close and violating a shit ton of rules about personnel space. “Unless you plan on walking me bake to my.. bike. Now.”

The way she moved it was like she was smelling him, and looking into his soul and judging him.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Yeah, I've punched Jared Leto, too. Funny story.

How many graves of saints and armories of heroes had this man robbed?

Um. ...a few. But only as strictly necessary.

The legions of hell and the hosts of heaven must have great bounties upon this man.

For starters. Not to mention a certain Librarian of Dream.

"Behind you," Kiz called out, hefting the spear in one hand. He snapped his arm. The spear hurtled forward seeking out the warmth of Constatine's body, eager to put out another fire.

Kiz' voice boomed, and alarm flared in the base of John's neck.

Guns weren't his chosen medium. But he had a Webley revolver in his arsenal in case he met a more mundane foe-- always prepared --and he knew how to use it. So too with The Ace of Winchesters.

He spun, unflinching, and even without the aid of The Ace's utterly unearthly unerring aim, his shot might have sundered Elivágar regardless. Perhaps it was skill, perhaps it was instinctual Synchronicity. But it was moot.

Within the space of that breath, as the barrel of the gun swung around and up, tracking and firing upon Elivágar, that Kiz dismissed the spear and teleported besides the barrel.

If John had had time to register it, he might have appreciated the fact that... since The Ace of Winchesters physically could not miss, and now its target had gone to another dimension and could not be hit... the bullet kind of stopped in mid-air, indecisive, bewildered. Irresistible force versus immovable object.

And dropped to the ground with a ping.

But John didn't have time to register it. He barely had time to register that the spear was gone from mid-air before--

With a hand capable of palming most men's faces, he latched onto the barrel, pulling it wide, exposing Constantine's underbelly. Kiz struck the man in his solar plexus. Not once but twice in a rapid fire burst.

Kiz knew of no mortal man that could shrug off the autonomic response to enervating the nerves and ganglia at the base of the stomach. He put all of his strength behind the pair of strikes. Like the head of a sledge hammer, he struck to break things, to let out his frustrations. He no longer cared if he shattered the man's rib cage it the process.

John Constantine was only human.

But at one point, he had been forcibly infused with the blood of Nergal, the demon who could most be considered John's nemesis. While not specifically tainting his soul because he hadn't consented to the infusion, this blood gave him a number of subtle advantages. He tasted terrible, for one thing, to a number of carnivorous species. Vampires (even The King of Vampires!) couldn't drink his blood without the demonic elements burning them up like hellfire from the inside out.

The blood also slowed John's aging. And helped him heal a little faster.

And made him just... a little... more durable than a human being should be.

Not enough to stop him from feeling every battering-ram knuckle crumpling his rib cage. Driving the wind out of him.

But enough to keep it from sending him to his knees, to keep him from folding like wet pancakes.

He managed to stay standing.

Thanks to demon blood and sheer cussed indefatigable stubbornness.

He managed to stay standing.

"You will yield." Kiz coiled his right leg, then launched an upper cut with all the force of his body.

John didn't just see stars with the impact of that punch. He saw constellations. Constellations exploded behind his eyes like supernovae and for a moment he forgot who and where he was.

That aforediscussed blood filled his mouth. It tasted like pennies and sulfur.

"You are done bothering me and mine." Kiz brought his right arm back, cocking it, tearing the Winchester from John's hands with his left hand. "You are done! Or I will turn your face into pulp and tatters, by the Void, I swear this thing."

Briefly nerveless fingers lost their grip on The Ace of Winchesters and he reeled backwards.

He wheezed. And staggered.

And reached into his pocket with one hand, and pulled loose his tie with the other.

The tie wrapped around his left fist like a martial artist taping his knuckles.

His right fist came up wearing blessed golden brass knuckles, excellent for particularly violent exorcisms-- he could basically punch a demon out of someone.

Spitting out that mouthful of blood, he then inhaled a strangled breath and, somehow, managed to hold up those fists before himself like a boxer who'd been punch-drunk for so long he'd forgotten what it was like to be sober. "I could do this all day."

This was, of course, utter braggadocio.

One more hit like that and he would be insensate, unable to respond.

But if John Constantine was going to go down. He was going to go down swinging.

That right hand shot for Kiz' face in a wobbly right hook whose amplitude would perhaps have been impressive if John wasn't the pugilistic equivalent of three sheets to the wind.

 

[Aussie_Wolf]

“What’s a picnic?” she asked, her voice soft, but muffled by the helmet. What did he consider perfect riding weather? She’d encountered rainstorms to dust bowls to blizzards in her years. She doubted they shared the same ideals about what would be classified as perfect.

Connor couldn't believe his ears. This specimen of female loveliness had never been taken on a picnic before? It was outrageous. Where had she been living that no male had ever done this with her.

Well now he was mighty glad that he had suggested it. Every woman deserved to go on at least one picnic in their lives.

"A picnic my dear lady, is when you take some food, go and find a beautiful spot somewhere in the great outdoors, and eat it in comfort while watching nature and enjoying the company you are in," he smiled at her. "Perhaps if you would care to tell me some of your favorite foods I might be able to procure them for tomorrow."

For some reason he found himself talking very formally around her. He didn't know why but it just sounded right.

“When would you like to meet.. and where?” She asked suddenly stepping very close and violating a shit ton of rules about personnel space. “Unless you plan on walking me back to my.. bike. Now.”

The way she moved it was like she was smelling him, and looking into his soul and judging him.

As she moved closer he was tempted to move back, but then he steeled himself and stayed where he was. Obviously this was a challenge and he was not going to fail it. His Master had done worse over the last five years and he would pass this test as well.

Just because she was a beautiful woman and her breasts were almost touching his chest, there was really no need to panic, he kept reminding himself.

It was amazing the way he could also almost feel her gaze through her helmet, searching into his soul, trying to judge the type of man he was. Still he had nothing to hide. Five years ago maybe, but not now. He had come to terms with the boy he had been and the man he was and wanted to be. He was very at peace with himself and knew his place in the world. If she wanted to search his soul she was welcome to.

"I will gladly walk you back to your bike, but I will need time to prepare the picnic. Perhaps we could meet tomorrow at 10am, at the Golden gate bridge parking lot. From there we can head out of town and into the hills to find a nice spot for lunch. Is that okay with you?"

 

[kizkiz]

Some motherfuckers always trying to ice skate uphill!

What made Kiz so dangerous was not his strength. There were many stronger than him. It wasn't his resistance to damage. He could be damaged. It was not his endurance. Too much excretion would tire him. It wasn't even that he was fast. He knew of those who could outrun the wind. What Kiz had that no one else that he'd encountered in the past was he could dodge. You didn't need strength if you could make your opponent hurt themselves. You didn't need to be resistance to damage, if you never got hit. You didn't need to endure, if your opponent tired before you did. And you didn't need to be faster, if your opponent couldn't hit you. Teleporting didn't tire him. It was like breathing. It was the Void; he'd rent his soul like stretch marks on a pregnant women, but he could do this forever.

He'd been deliberate in setting the expectation that this would be a fist fight. Three mighty blows with his fists. His hands looked like that was all they were good for. There were a few things that differentiated a master of unarmed combat from a grandmaster. First was expectation management.

Kiz had hoped that vow, which he was obligated to see through, would have been enough to convince Constantine that further action would be fruitless. As much as he had found a handful of attributes to admire in Constantine, Kiz still had work to do.

Now Kiz would flow like water around Constantine, instead of raining down an avalanche of punches. Kiz glanced at the spot to the right of Constantine. As he stepped through the Void, he reappeared in that spot orientated towards Constantine. Kiz stepped forward towards the man's right hand, grabbing it at the wrist, pulling forward, and sweeping out in one continuous motion. Kiz shot his left hand forward, catching the muscle between Constantine's shoulder and lateral muscles with the nub of his thumb. Like a dagger strike, that pressure point would cause the right arm to jerk and the muscle's nerves to think they were burning. Kiz teleported within the space of his next breath behind Constantine, running the back of his left elbow into the back of the man's head. Then Kiz was back in front of Constantine and struck straight with a spear hand at the man's solar plexus.

 

[Varshanka]

“Traveling with me to my vehicle is not needed, or required.” She said stepping back from her inspection of his face and soul. “Also I doubt you’d find it.. appealing.” Walking over to a fire escape she leaped up, grabbing the bottom rung and pulling the ladder down.

Moments later she was standing on the lowest landing. “Fort Point National Historic Site, West side, beach. Sunset. Don’t be late. That should be enough time for you to primp and pamper yourself. And shower.”

Heading up the fire escape she crossed over the roof and started moving. With him out of site she could stop holding back, just.. let go. She felt the Other raging against her arguing with her choices, her decisions.

Dropping to her bike she ignited both bike and rider, tar melting as she sped off into the night.

 

[Aussie_Wolf]

“Traveling with me to my vehicle is not needed, or required.” She said stepping back from her inspection of his face and soul. “Also I doubt you’d find it.. appealing.” Walking over to a fire escape she leaped up, grabbing the bottom rung and pulling the ladder down.

Moments later she was standing on the lowest landing. “Fort Point National Historic Site, West side, beach. Sunset. Don’t be late. That should be enough time for you to primp and pamper yourself. And shower.”

Connor smiled. Well she had changed the time on him but he didn't care. This was the first date he would be going on in five years. Well actually Five years, three months and seven days, but who had been counting.

He then lifted his arm and sniffed himself and quickly moved his head back. Okay he had to admit that maybe he did need a shower, but in his defense he had been running all over rooftops tonight and saving damsels in distress. Still she had not smelled all that bad. Wonder what her secret was?

Still smiling he began the jog back to his bike as he heard the sirens approaching. He would check to make sure the cops had picked the other two up as well, after all it was on his way. Still his thoughts were mainly on tomorrow night.

Damn she hadn't mentioned what type of food she liked. Well guess it was just the staples then. He was smiling broadly as he slipped from shadow to shadow on his way back, going over everything he would need for his date.

 

[Aussie_Wolf]

Carin Taylor smiled as she walked down the main path between the buildings on the Campus of the MIT University. She had just finished another study session in the library and already her brain was processing all the new knowledge she had crammed into it.

Oh most people would have been able to just about studied the notes they had studied in class. Carin had just learned the History of the Mayan's, was now fluent in German, had taken a crash course in how to draw the human anatomy, and studied more about Velocity and speed.

Currently she was Studying Physics as a Major, concentrating on the branch concerned with Speed and velocity. She was also studying mechanics, History, Drawing and several other subjects. What she loved more than anything though was going to the library and cramming her brain full of knowledge.

For most of her life she had been denied the freedom to do that, only being taught the things she needed to know to complete the tasks she was assigned. Now she was making up for lost time.

As she walked her mind drifted back to her childhood, or what little she knew of it.

Her first real memories were of the Facility. A huge factory/Lab/Boarding house, that she and a lot of other kids had grown up in. She had only been about five at the time. Some of the other kids had been younger but most older. She had been bullied until she had learned to run and hide, finding out she could run faster than any of the other kids. A lot faster.

However one day a group had caught her and decided it would be fun to brand her. They had tattooed a green thunderbolt across her right eye, their idea of a joke. It had not gone down to well with the people running the place. Several of the kids had disappeared. One had come back changed. He became docile and slow. He was never the same again.

For the first few years Carin had dreams about a house, Parents and a girl she assumed must have been her sister. She looked about two to three years older than her. They were playing catch in a big back yard or sometimes with dolls. However as the years passed they faded away.

When she was ten she woke up one day changed. She felt different and her whole body looked different. Her skin was now a pale white causing her Tattoo to really stand out. She even felt heavier than the day before and when she weighed herself she was amazed to discover she had gained 10 pounds in her sleep.

What had happened to her? She knew that some of the older kids looked different. had this happened to them?

She had trouble walking but had made it to breakfast that morning and had been shocked to see that everyone looked different. Some had metal arms, others had eyes replaced, hell one boy now looked like a steel person. The one thing they all had in common was that they were scared and frightened.

Over the next several years she was poked, prodded, injected and subjected to tests that had to do with her speed. She ran fast on treadmills, ran around tracks, pulled things apart and put them back together, took tests and had things thrown at her. She never knew why, just if she didn't do them they punished her. After the first few punishments she just complied. Besides some of the tests were fun. It was fun finding out just how fast she could run.

Eventually she was put in a group. There was a huge boy who was super strong. He was the one covered in metal. A boy who could fly and shoot plasma energy, A girl who could project electromagnetic energy from her hands and throw it if she wanted to controlling it with her mind as long as she could see it, and a native American boy with claw hands and a healing factor.

They had worked and trained together, learning all about their powers but little about themselves. Occasionally they were sent out to do small jobs. break into places and get things for the people that were training them. They had a feeling that what they were doing was wrong but they were fitted with collars that could cause them intense pain if the tried anything.

Finally when she was sixteen, they took advantage of an attack on the place by some force and broke out. They stole a ship called the Manta and disappeared. For the next three years they became ghost's, hiding out but popping up in trouble spots to help out the poor and downtrodden.

They learned that they had been held by a group called the Science Squad. They had been studying them because they all had what was called a Meta Gene. They had been adjusted to bring it out early and sent out on missions so they could see their powers in action. Once they had outlived their usefulness they were going to be sold off to another organization called the HIVE. There they would have been brainwashed to serve as evil minions in a fight to take over the world.

Eventually the Justice league had shut down both organizations and they had been free to go back to their interrupted lives. Carin had chosen to go to University. A little makeup to hide her pale skin and she looked like the average teenager. The others had chosen to go their own ways.

Coming back to herself she walked into her dorm. That had been two years ago, and now the twenty year old was well on her way to graduating. She had refrained from using her powers as much as she could and had definitely shied away from any sports. Still she was happy and had a large group of friends. She was known as a geek, but these days that was not a bad thing, but sometimes she did miss the action.

Sighing she made her way to her room. She had a date with a group of friends at the coffee shop later and she wanted a shower and to freshen up before she had to be there.

 

[Varshanka]

כ״ב בִּשְׁבָט תשע״ו

Standing on the beach, the Rider watched as the sun set. According to Hebrew Faith the setting sun was the beginning of the next day. Perhaps this was be a new day for Danielle. Probably not, but you never knew.

Watching as the sun set she reflected on her/their life/lives/existence together. Forever together/eternally alone. Damned with immortality and damned to a human host. Both of them were being punished for sins/wrong doings. And each was a reminded of the others Sins.

She watched as the sun slowly set, and elsewhere the sun was rising, bringing light to the world as she saw the darkness creeping ever closer.

Ever darker.

 

[Aussie_Wolf]

Connor parked his Bike in the parking lot of the Fort Point National Historic Site just as the sun was setting. It felt a little weird for him to actually be out at night in civilian clothes but it had to happen sometime.

He wore a plain white top, Black leather jacket, Denim pants and Black riding boots. He had a Full faced black helmet with an arrow running from the back to the front down the middle and on his back was a large backpack filled with picnic food. Strapped to the back of his bike was a small picnic rug.

Taking off his helmet he walked down to the beach looking for a familiar body. It was strange to think that, but he had not seen the mysterious riders face so picking her out that way was out of the question. He had seen a couple of other bikes in the parking lot but none that had stood out and it would be impolite to wait up here when she had said the beach.

As he strolled along he caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette and smiling made his way towards it. As the sun kissed the waves he approached her from behind and gently called out.

"So are you ready to go on our picnic, or would you like to finish watching the sun set first. I don't mind. It is a rather romantic way to start a date really," he smiled.

 

[Varshanka]

A First Date Part 2

"So are you ready to go on our picnic, or would you like to finish watching the sun set first. I don't mind. It is a rather romantic way to start a date really," he smiled.

Holding up her hand she listened as the light faded, swallowed by the night. The day was done, and it was a new day. She listened for a moment longer to the silence. The stillness of the setting sun.

“And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness. And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.”

As the last light vanished she turned and looked at him, the light reflecting in her eyes, making them glow for a moment. A moment that was gone as she tilted her head back and donned her helmet. “I don’t date.” She told him as she moved to her bike and straddled it.

With a kick and a twist of her wrist it roared like an angry dragon woken from a long slumber. “This is us Riding our bikes. And remember Lust is a Sin, Chastity a Virtue.”