Scene #8743: FAITH: Act I

Owner	Pose
Father Berislav	It isn't over. For although Michael is safe, and free, there is a sound, a few minutes away. Muffled speech, for those with the power to hear it. Two voices. One human... and one closer to Michael's. My God... what happened to you? DO YOU THINK MY FACE IS PRETTY? I have to finish what I started. SHE IS MINE, PRIEST. You are close enough to the Martin house that the sound of broken glass is clearly heard by all of you, enhanced senses or not. We have not quite earned a rest... is it? And yet, we must certainly see young Michael away to somewhere safer than here. What shall we do? Buttercup, Boomer, or I could take him elsewhere. The question is whether there is presently somewhere safer than our immediate presence "Boomer--here." Berislav briskly reaches through space, procuring a folded piece of paper from a burning orange tear that quickly closes after. "His parents' address. I'll give you a thirty second headstart, and then fire a flare." "The rest of you, stick together and make for the house." It isn't far on foot; scarcely a few minutes at a normal pace, and likely half that, given the urgency of this situation. Anywhere else, the house would seem quaint; a little cabin in the woods tucked in a pleasant clearing. But the atmosphere here is wrong--the trees seem like the jagged teeth of some forgotten deep sea creature. Something moves between them at your approach, skittering into the darkness. A glint of something metal flashes as it breaks off, hung around the neck. The smell of something sickly-sweet and full of iron hangs heavy on the air. Twigs snap, beneath an uneven gait. A silhouette emerges from behind the back of the house. A girl about Buttercup's age emerges, from behind the house. In the moonlight, rivulets of blood shine as they trickle down her arms and dampen her dress. Her wrists sport bruises from being bound, and her long, straight hair sways like a willow in the wind as she shambles towards you.
Father Berislav	Berislav's 'flare' goes off, after a moment of painting a target in the night sky with a small pointer--a guided missile from Isaiah screams overhead, exploding in a spectacular ball of fire, that Boomer can find his way back through the forest with a mind of its own. From inside the house, there can be heard hurried footsteps, racing down a flight of stairs. It's then that the girl seems to awaken from whatever dreamlike haze she's in, looking straight at all of you. Her long, dark hair parts like a curtain. Where her face would be, there is only the grisly sight of a blood-slicked cavity. Her body convulses before you, as a priest, roughly Berislav's age, rushes out onto the lawn with a Bible in hand, frantically flipping through pages as he genuflects. The barrel of a rifle peeks out from behind his head, slung over his shoulder. Whatever verse he might have begun to read is left unspoken-- As a human arm, covered completely in blood, emerges from the cavity in the girl's face with a sickening squelch. In the blink of an eye, it grabs her by the throat and pulls her impossibly through that cavity, until your only company on the abandoned property is the other priest. "Who are you people?" he asks. A blend of emotions is present in his voice--curiosity, confusion. Fear. "I could ask the same of you," says Berislav evenly. His silver eyes flick towards the rifle. "What are you doing here? This house has been abandoned for over a year now." "...my name is John Ward," says the other priest, clipped and closed off. He's tall--six feet, easily, although not otherwise imposing thanks to his slim build. His short black hair is neatly swept to one side. In one hand, he holds his Bible, now closed. The other holds a golden crucifix, held low at his side. The house is abandoned because of me. So... "I came here to save someone." But I failed. Again. The forest seems to quiet, for now. It probably isn't safe to camp here, or anything, but those of you with the senses to pick out movement in the darkness will find that it has greatly reduced. Your efforts, and the efforts of this mystery priest, have sent the powers that lurk here off to lick their wounds, for now.
Aidan Proudpick	Aidan keeps the shield on his arm, letting it simply stay a buckler, holding his accelerator(GUN) in both hands, proper soldier style. Muzzle down, finger off the trigger but on the trigger guard. He HAS been in a few skirmishes, and while he still flinches like a rookie, his hands seem to be steady. His eyes flash towards the forest, and Aidan twists in place, easily running backwards. His eyes, however, are wild. He has never been HUNTED in his life. Worse, hunted by something wearing the skin of innocent people. I really did think this was going to be easy. We'd just stand around in a bedroom and be brave. Just that easy. Snarl at evil from behind the father. Ear twitch. Tail flick. He turns his head over his shoulder to see the little girl. And to see her face, or lack there off. "Shit. Shit!" Aidan takes a staggering step, stopping in mid backwards jog. He takes a step and spins around, leveling the gun at the little girl. "Is that who we ar-" The sight of the face and the gun twitches up a measure. The arm shoots out of the face. Even this far away, Aidan flinches back as if were inches away. "Choke ME!" He cries out in utter shock. The complete and utter silence. No spray of blood, no snap of bone, simply there one second, then pulled through. Another staggering step. Then Aidan falls back on his ass. "Who are you people?" Aidan answers by shouting, "What WAS that thing?!"
Rowdyruff Boys	"Uh, yeah, okay," Boomer says, picking Michael up in a reasonably gentle carry. He warns, "This is gonna be really disorienting, so don't get freaked out--" Brick is actually the one to grab the address and navigate Boomer, though it's not exactly clear how he does it. Either way, he's the one that pockets the slip of paper. As for Michael and Boomer, they travel at a speed that is appreciably faster than that of light, appearing in a humming column of appropriately colored light. Thirty seconds proves to be gross overkill, and the expected results of something that fast moving around simply don't materialize. It's waiting for the flare that actually takes longer than the whole trip both ways. The appearance of the flare heralds the same humming noise and blue column of light. Boomer glances around nervously, "Even at speed, it's real creepy to move through here-- UGH!" He just caught sight of what's going on with the possibly-not-actually-dead young lady getting pulled into herself and probably into a hell dimension. "I'm not speaking my name here, it'll escalate our problems," Brick says to John, simply. Grimacing and rather green-faced, Boomer says, "Uh, right, in situations like this you can just call me Bee-Two." "Your name's not a problem." "Aw, but I did it right this time..." Brick grunts.
Tamamo	As soon as she sees the woman and recognizes the marks of captivity, Tamamo steps forward, only lacking in additional speed for the fact that the group of them were already hurrying as quickly as safely possible. She stops after a few heartbeats, reasonable suspicion catching up well after the near-instinctive response to aid, hand outstretched, then uncertain. That gives time for the rest to unfold, no more than a "Who--?" passing her lips before the tall priest appears -- and falls to the ground, his reading interrupted, then left unfinished. Aidan is aiming a gun at the girl. This causes Tamamo to reach out to push it away, but what unfolds is faster. Her arms then return to her sides, hands brought together, a relaxed picture of unease. One ear turns, eyes half-lidded, as she scans the treeline. It takes a bit longer before she lets out a breath, satisfied with the change in pressure. "I am known as Tamamo-no-mae, and am here in the capacity of an expert in seals and banishment." There's no getting around that her name is well-known, though the specific reactions vary by world. "Are there any others present, of whom we should be aware?"
Charlotte Newman	Michael is, more or less, taken care of. Charlotte sees the healed man off in the arms of a Rowdyruff. Glass breaking startles her. When Waters urges the group to move on, she glances towards him with a nervous affirmative nod. She spends most of the trip fussing with her jacket, now damp in uncomfortable places from wrestling with Michael earlier. She also can't help but keep an eye on the woods around them, after the uneasy feeling of being watched. Charlotte pauses as the house comes into view through the trees. The stench pulls a noise from her throat and she covers her mouth and nose with a handkerchief. A familiar sensation... though, perhaps, nowhere near as intense as that time. Not mixed with the same hostile feeling. Every bit as unpleasant. The apparent source of the smell emerges, a girl around her age, obviously bleeding. Tamamo's faster on the draw; Charlotte's breath hitches and she quickens her pace. The shrine maiden stops-- prompting the girl to halt as well. At first, confused. And then-- --To say Charlotte's voice could shatter glass might be an acceptable exaggeration, when the mystery girl pulls her faceless, bloody disappearing act. Someone is not accustomed to Supernatural Craziness. When the new priest exits the house, among the others, he finds Charlotte on the ground, having jumped back so violently she lost her footing and sits propped back on her hands, staring wide-eyed at where the girl had been. > "Who are you people?" Charlotte shoots a look at John Ward. It takes her a minute to process his appearance. "Oh thank goodness you have a face," is all she says, her voice shaken.
Hibiki Tachibana	In the metaphorical and literal back of the group, to ward the shadows lurking within the darkness off, Hibiki isn't quite privy to all the fine details of the exorcism, or the altercation that happens with Meika. There are bits and pieces that leak in enough for considerable concern to bleed in though, even though Michael has returned to what appears to be the best health one could expect as of right now. Because although she doesn't have the senses to pick up on the sound of speech, the sound of glass cracking feels almost deafeningly loud in within the depths of the forest. "What-- what now...?" The atmosphere sucks. Something is stalking them, although that's not a surprise. But-- more than that, finally approaching the home, what really gets her is the girl that comes out to lurch towards them. Bruises, blood, and the way she's acting... Hibiki shouldn't be surprised to see what happens when the locks part to reveal what's beneath. If the sight of the gaping hole there didn't already hit her as being as bad as it could possibly get, already hurrying forward to try and get to her without thinking about the potential consequences, the bloodied arm that pulls her into herself entirely gets her to stop with wide eyes. "Hey--! W-Wait--!" Her voice is shaky, but there's nothing to do about it. Her lips purse together in an effort to restrain some kind of building instinctual urge to retch at such an unnatural and gruesome sight, before the other priest finally grabs her attention. She pulls it together, taking a deep and uneasy breath. The forest quieting doesn't actually put her at ease as it should. "...Hibiki," says slowly, shifting her posture into... not ready to throw a fist into anything that comes at them. Her eyes keep drifting back to where the girl disappeared. "...Was that girl-- the one you were trying to save...? Who was she? ...Possessed like Michael was...?"
Meika Kirenai	'The rest of you, stick together and make for the house.' Chevalier Vermillion, resplendant in her glimmering armor, rolls her eyes. Her handgun, from where she'd been holding it drawn, gets shoved back away as she sets off down the trail with the others- pointedly skirting around the edge of the group, still, her motions dead silent once more. At least she can be sure every echo of snapping twigs in the forest, every footstep, isn't her doing. What comfort that is, to the jumpy magical girl's nerves- but the time still helps, the distance, the motion. She almost dissapears in the just-out-of-the-light treelines, until flares blast into the sky and cast the world in brighter colors. Instictively, Vermillion ducks behind a tree, seeing the new figure approach- peeking out, and actually stepping out, when she sees the girl approach. "...Hello..? M-miss, are you-" Oh, God. Her face isn't- The magical girl yelps, and claps a hand over her mouth, the noise instantly muffled and cut off. She's going to die, right? That's not something someone can live with, unless- Now, twigs do break from her motions. She fixates on the shuffling girl, and not at all the priest behind her, skates shearing through understory debris with crackling abandon- and she's gone. Pulled away into herself, to nothing. "W-what? What'd you... where'd she go..? Uh- um." She herself stumbles to a halt, and the fumbling motions in her limbs and recent-onset trembles don't make any noise by rustling the leaves and fallen debris. A hand rests on the grip of her own pocketed pistol, seeing the glint of the priest's rifle. On prompt, she doesn't stop herself from blabbering out her title, unsteady but seemingly not threatened. "Chevalier Vermillion, magical girl of the H-holy Refulgence..." "Who were you- you trying to save? You didn't, did you?" Vermillion's eyes are an eerie color to see in the midst of the dark night, fixed his way. Her own thoughts chastise herself for playing loose with what she just overheard in the new priest's unspoken words. "A-and why do you have a gun with you?" She moves her hand away from her own, and shifts her posture to stand more sideways, hiding it likely far too late for it to go unnoticed. She flinches, and puts his tone together with the words that echoed out earlier from the house. Her demeanor crumbles into something far shakier, and her eyes fall back to the ground. "O-oh. Um. Don't answer that first thing. It was her, wasn't it?"
Rowdyruff Boys	"Had all the hallmarks of abduction into a hell dimension, or something adjacent," Brick answers Meika, coolly. He looks to John for confirmation or denial.
Powerpuff Girls	Last time... on the STRUGGLECUP GIRLS... Buttercup had grabbed a hold of the devil by its horns and wrangled it down! Exorcismically disinclined, the DAY was SAVED... Mostly. Deeply rattled by soaking sonic scouring and a sizzle in her hands and arms like poison ivy, Buttercup lets things be taken from her, rising and standing with a distant expression on her face. For several seconds she wavers, and then her eyes find Boomer when he pulls Michael away. "Stick together, huh?" Buttercup asks, rough and dull. "Yeah. Nobody wants to fight one of those alone." The emerald Puff agrees. She does not mean Michael. Buttercup seems almost uncanny at a jog, heavy through the forest, trudging for her. She 'sticks together' through the bleak terrain, her senses tuned in expectant horror by the time the whole group arrives at the cabin in the woods. Blink, and you'll miss her... Buttercup disappears, midleap, speeding through a green distortion blur and reaching her fingers impulsively to snake out, hook on, grab hold again of another lost soul in the Devil's clutches... Buttercup blinked. So she misses it, overreaching and stumbling as she recovers, falling and never reaching the ground. John Ward's introduction sees Buttercup difting down, a fall in slow motion, to squat in a deep knee bend, arms hanging down between her legs. Her fingers rake the damp ground. "Too slow." The Puff answers to 'who she is', grimacing and staring out past the back of the house at nothing. "Yeah." A rough chuckle, totally dishonest. "Or something adjacent." A beat. "Didn't know two padres were around here."
Meika Kirenai	"H-had all the hallmarks of... This is something you've seen before?" Vermillion's gaze shifts to Brick, scowling- more confused and worried, than angry. There are many flavors of scowl, and she is a fluent practitioner of them. "It's- it's not supposed to happen like that, though. That's just for- for after. Right..?" 'After', not 'the dead'. It's easier not to face that head-on. Still, she sounds tangibly more nervous than she should- and absentmindedly reaches up a gauntlet-covered hand to poke her own cheek once- twice, before noticing she's doing so and tucking her hand out of the way once more.
Rowdyruff Boys	Brick turns his head towards Buttercup, his expression changing almost imperceptibly. "Try not to accept blame so readily," he advises. Red eyes drift back towards Vermillion, lingering on her for a moment. He explains, "Hell dimensions come in a lot of different sub-types. The average hell dimension is a sort of garbage dimension of spiritual detritus. Fictional ideas of evil and punishment superimposed on noospheric pockets that spin up into self-reinforcing processes. The demons that come into being because of them are dangerous enough to cause problems and do things like this, though. I'd call them the demon equivalent of a bunch of yappy coyotes, but it's being snobby about pseudospiritual bottom-feeders that can still crawl into the heads of the vulnerable and drag them into a reasonable facsimile of eternal torment." "Actual demons will get offended if you associate them with those things, though. It's a little like talking a bunch of shit about humans being apes," he concludes, his gaze beginning to wander away.
Aidan Proudpick	Aidan turns his head slightly Brick, just enough to catch him in his peripheral vision and keep his main focus on the house. "Which one was THAT?" He gestures vaguely with one hand, slipping it off the gun.
Rowdyruff Boys	"Don't know," Brick replies to Aidan, shrugging. "Could be the real deal, in local cosmology. Still looked like a demonic abduction to me. It's why I was asking the local."
Father Berislav	Too slow. I know the feeling. John frowns. Didn't know two padres were around here. "Neither did I," John answers, glancing at Berislav, then down to the heavy revolver he holds so comfortably. What WAS that thing?! "Her name is Amy Martin," John answers Aidan. The answer raises more questions--isn't Amy Martin supposed to be a ward of the state? What would she be doing at her house? There are no answers from Father Ward more forthcoming than this; at least, none that he speaks out loud. Even uttering her name seems to wound him--Buttercup can see clearly that guilt hangs over him like a damp blanket. I'm not speaking my name here, it'll escalate our problems. "Okay. I guess that would make you B1?" John shifts uncomfortably. It's clear that, in comparison to Berislav, who holds his outsized revolver like an old friend, Father Ward isn't used to its weight. Perhaps it's something that he only reached for out of desperation? Are there any others present, of whom we should be aware? "Seals and banishment? You're an exorcist..." Like I'm supposed to be. John frowns, and swallows uncomfortably, but it seems that Tamamo's presence and admission are enough to embolden him to speak a little more freely. "There was someone chasing me. Pale, spindly. I managed to frighten him off with this," he says, briefly lifting his golden crucifix. "You don't need to worry about him any more," prompts Berislav. "Was there anyone else?" "Someone was watching me," he answers. "They ran off, when they noticed I saw them." He tucks his crucifix into the pocket of his dark pants, and retrieves a red nose, like the kind a clown might wear. "Whoever they were, they dropped this." Berislav's brow raises in mild confusion. Why do you have a gun with you? The question seems to render the guilt which already weighs upon John even heavier. It's a reasonable question. What need does an exorcist have of a gun? "It was there. I could hear so many things, out in the darkness. I was scared." Like always. Thank goodness you have a face. ...Was that girl-- the one you were trying to save...? Who was she? ...Possessed like Michael was...? Don't answer that first thing. It was her, wasn't it? "Michael? ...so that was his name. Yes." 'Yes' is short and clipped; as if John were standing at the edge of a steep cliff and trying desperately not to slip. "She was." His fist closes over the red nose, and his dark eyes turn away from the gathered Elites. "She still is," he then utters, like tearing a bandage off. When Brick looks to him for confirmation, John looks away, as if hoping that doing so will absolve him of having to answer. "I don't know. That was... new. She didn't look that way before." Berislav tucks his gun away, into that pocket space. "Before," he repeats. "'A year ago,' perhaps? It was an exorcism, then, and not some sort of mental break. But why wasn't there any mention of you?" "The Vatican," answers John as if by reflex. "Are you all... here for her, too?" "For Michael," answers Berislav. "But I don't believe the two incidents are isolated. Is your work in the house otherwise done?" "Yes," John answers. Again, clipped and closed off. But not so much that it conceals the haggard, harrowed tone with which he utters the word. He clears his throat, shuffling in place. "
Father Berislav	"Thank you, Father Ward," says Berislav with a slight incline of his head. John bristles--as if he doesn't feel he deserves the honorific. It's- it's not supposed to happen like that, though. That's just for- for after. Right..? "It's highly unusual, no matter your view of eschatology," answers Berislav. "Whether you believe Hell is a court, a place of penitent purification, eternal punish-ment- or eternal punish-ing-, it's not a place for the living." He turns to face John. "Do you still want to save Amy?" "Yes," answers John, with the most conviction he's been able to muster. Berislav nods, and offers a hand to shake. "Good. My name is Waters Berislav. I'd be honored to have your help." "The terrorist?" John steps back, slightly, after the handshake. Berislav's laugh is almost a relief, in this grisly place. "'For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, 'He has a demon.' The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, 'Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.' But wisdom is proved right by her deeds.'" John's mouth twists into a thoughtful frown.
Rowdyruff Boys	"I'll tell you my name once we're out of this context and in a place that doesn't feel thin. Just use 'red' for the moment, but don't use it too often," Brick answers John, cryptically. He seems dead fucking serious about the whole thing, but it's quite probable he's being paranoid. When John looks away instead of answering his question, Brick interrupts his follow-up, "The answer is yes, and you know it's yes, but you don't want to have to process that. Too bad." "Brick, c'mon man--" "Demonic abductions are reversible with less effort than death. Acknowledging the reality of the situation up front is the best thing we can do. Do you disagree with my assessment of his reaction? You're the socially savvy one." Looking apologetic towards John, Boomer nodded with a grimace. He added, "Since I get to share, the name's Boomer. Boomer Jojo. I'm uh, a superhero--" Brick made an annoyed face at that. "-- kind of."
Tamamo	'You're an exorcist...' "As you say, I do possess such skills, as well as an appropriate inclination." Tamamo is in her big fluffy coat right now, rather than her usual clothes -- which more strongly resemble what would be thought of as 'ceremonial' -- but a calm, assured tone makes up the difference. She's kept her voice even at least since first hearing the uncertainty in John's. Between Brick and Berislav speaking of hells, she says, "Pertinent questions to answer though these be, the asking of them may not be enough to provide us with answers. What occurred had the appearance of a gate being drawn into itself, so as to avoid being followed. Whether this has actually occurred, or whether a gate remains open, even by a crack the width of a single hair, we should next surmise. Ah, but, before that, let us concern ourselves with one more mystery." John's mouth twists into a thoughtful frown. Tamamo gives a slight smile. "I should like to know Father Berislav well enough to fully vouch for his character. For the moment, I shall vouch for that his intentions in the present matter are noble, and that I shall not stay my hand should my trust prove misplaced." She holds out her hands together, palms up. "May I see that red item?" She does not know what a clown looks like. "I need but a moment to perform a reading."
Charlotte Newman	Once she's collected enough of her wits, Charlotte inhales deeply and then lets it out slowly, getting less shakey by the second. Eventually she gets back on her feet, brushing snow and dirt off herself while listening to Father Ward address the questions and points brought up by the others. The girl pulls out her phone again, noting things down, murmuring as she goes. Amy Martin is where she pauses, tapping her finger to her lips as she thumbs back a page in her notepad app. When there's a break in the conversation, Charlotte raises her hand, "Father Ward, if I may; isn't Amy Martin supposed to be a ward of the state?" She lifts red-tinged eyes to his face, "Did she run away or was that just a cover story?" > "Someone was watching me." Ward brings that up, prompting Charlotte to check her surroundings again, "You know. I've been getting the same sensation from these woods the whole time we've been here." Even just a confirmation might help his mental state; though she can't tell if it's the weirdly confrontational deer or shadows that might have been people during Michael's exorcism.
Aidan Proudpick	Pointing his gun at the ground, Aidan carefully levers himself back up, rather than sit there like an asshole. Aidan lifts his hand, feeling only slightly sheepish to be one of the ones among them without knowledge. Just a will. "I'm here to help the father. And anyone who needs helping. So I guess Michael and Amy. And you now." Without something horrific immediately in his vicinity, and able to provide a possibly meaningless vote of confidence, some of the conviction can return to Aidan. He lets his gun lull towards the ground, holding it loosely in one hand while he turns his head about. His ears flick this way and that, trying to pick up any source of noise. Nothing. As Tamamo speaks up to vouch for the Father, Aidan speaks as well, "Yea, I've never seen the Father stand down from a duty. I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust him." This talking of a gate leaves Aidan's mouth dry. He pats his body quickly, then reaches into his saddle bag. Shoving aside a grocery store cylinder of Morton Salt, he pulls out steel canister of water. As he twists off the lid, he listens silently to Brick next. Once he can get some down his throat and breathe more easily once again. "When you say reverse. And gates may still be open. Do you mean we are going into where she went? Or getting her back from this side?"
Tamamo	When Aidan asks what was meant about gates, Tamamo answers with, "This depends upon both the conditions of the gate and upon the place to which it leads. It would be more fruitful to search for it than to merely theorize, in my own estimation. We need not be too hurried. 'Time' has an often differing meaning across such thresholds."
Powerpuff Girls	"Thanks," Buttercup's own deeply sour expression lingers, jaw-set, as the Ruff tells her off for her feelings. In this case, maybe screw those feelings, they were awful feelings, and Brick was right. Rolling her head back, Buttercup groans, lifts a hand to set against her jaw and pivot her neck until it loudly pops, and works her way back to standing. Rolling her shoulders and bouncing off her toes, the Puff works through a very groundbound work-it-out routine, finishing with a flick-off of her hands down to the ground followed by a sweep back through her hair. "Glad we agree that sucked, at least." The emerald puff grumbles. "I'm here because padre numero uno," A thumb juts back at Berislav. "Asked at least three idiots with super-powers." She is agreeing with the red on 'not Super-Heroes' tonight. "Plus an exorcist," Tamamo gets the thumb next. "That girl's meddling," Thumbcusation at Meika. "But she's part of the team up." A slow pause, as Buttercup considers and turns to the Odd Padre Out, glancing between Charlotte and Aidan's glowing endorsements of Father Berislav compared to the extremely tight response from Father John. "She didn't look that way before? Before what. Be specific, please."
Hibiki Tachibana	She still is. That's all Hibiki needs to hear to wince, and understand enough to not need to inquire further. Not anymore than he elaborates himself, at least. The resolve he has in his voice when he declares he still wants to save Amy tells her just about all she needs to know about the priest's character, and how far he'll go. Well, if coming out here entirely by himself while he's scared half to death didn't prove that enough already. He's serious about this. Serious enough to feel this overwhelmingly guilty, and serious enough to keep trying anyway. "...You're a good guy, John Ward. I know you probably don't think so right now-- ...but I'm glad Amy has someone like you trying to help her." If the attempt at encouragement actually lands or not, she can't actually control. But she does mean it. And little bits like that help her take the edge off of all of this for herself, too. Between all of the talks of hell dimension portal gate abductions and demons and more though, a grimace comes to Hibiki's face as her arms come up to half-fold and half-hug against herself. Rather than letting her mind spin with all the possibilities of those things (and clown masks), she looks curiously towards Tamamo's attempted reading while directing a question towards both Father Berislav and Father Ward. "Is... there any simple way to get Amy back from wherever she was taken?" She used 'simple' because she already knows the answer is going to be no. But there probably has to be a way.
Meika Kirenai	Chevalier Vermillion can only mumble out a quiet 'Ah...' at Brick's explanation. 'Rapt attention' wouldn't be the right word, given how her eyes seem to glaze over a bit, but she's trying. "So that's not... an actual demon?" She glances between Berislav, Brick, and B- Father Ward, obviously looking for confirmation. A fake one isn't so scary. If it's just meant to be like it, then maybe it's not the same, doesn't mean the same things, to get- You know. Vermillion may not parse the nuances of Brick's more academic phrasings and explanations, but she's mulling over what she can. 'She still is,' "Still? So she's- she went somewhere? Was it-" A frantic look back at Brick. "Reversible. S-so it's not really... she's not really there? Or else it wouldn't be..." A slow, worried whine gets cut off the moment Vermillion notices she's making it. "H-how do you get her back..?" 'It was an exorcism, then, and not some sort of mental break' "...The people still- her family... T-that doesn't excuse it, right? It's still her who..." Vermillion's voice drops a lot quieter, an arm awkwardly squeezing the gauntlet of her other- metal cracks, silent. Again, she's not saying the words head-on. She turns to face the other priest. "Father Ward? Would you have... shot her? If you'd gotten scared enough?" Did it promise her something? Vermillion bites the inside of her lip hard enough to draw blood. The scratching, acid-eroding tone of Michael's possessing spirit echoes in her ears. I kind of wonder what. "Matthew eleven... something, right? I'm not sure I get it." Vermillion blinks, and looks away, flinching from admitting to her uncertainty, expecting a chastisement in the first half-second before her thoughts dull the anticipation. This isn't a quiz. Don't think about it too hard. There's no grade. He's a jerk, but he's not a teacher and a jerk. "Father Ward? You'd be right not to trust F- the terrorist, you know. I don't. He's not-" She exhales- there's still a tiny bit of blood on her lip she hasn't noticed, and doesn't wipe at. "Yeah."
Meika Kirenai	'That girl's meddling,' "Yeah? What of it. I got here myself, I'm capable, and I've got every right to-" 'But she's part of the team up.' "Oh." The defensive edge withers away, and she flashes an apologetic little half-smiling, half-grimacing glance. "Right. Y-yeah." Chevalier Vermillion gives a small little wave to the priest, and awkwardly shuffles how she's standing. Being singled out for half-inclusion is better than singled out for outright exclusion. A part of her she won't admit out loud is happy it's just the former.
Aidan Proudpick	Aidan's gun is going towards his side, the thought of putting it away rolling into his mind as all this thought of saving. But when Tamamo brings up the fact that they certainly have no idea what is about to happen, Aidan holds it firm. His only reference for Hell is a few other underworlds he hears about on his radio stories. And none of those are great. The canteen goes into his bag, then a side eye at Meika. His eyes tighten around the corners and he opens his mouth. But seeing her shrivel once more immediately puts water on those flames. "Let's worry about saving Amy. It's fair to think everyone here wants to save her. Whatever we want to think about each other can wait until after that."
Rowdyruff Boys	"Yeah," Brick answers Buttercup. He eyes her suspiciously when she conspicuously doesn't go with the superhero label, herself. That's a little unusual, though Buttercup is the one he would expect it of the most. //So that's not... an actual demon?// "Academic distinction," he says, simply. //Reversible. S-so it's not really... she's not really there? Or else it wouldn't be...// "There's not a subjective difference. Especially for a person who isn't being followed by a cloud of people capable of breaking them out," he says, the opposite of reassuring. From the sound of it, Brick considers it entirely academic, and isn't really considering how horrifying it is. Boomer, who is a lot more interested in the people and less in the academic element of things, says, "So... how're we pulling this off? Breaking into hell dimensions sucks."
Father Berislav	The answer is yes, and you know it's yes, but you don't want to have to process that. Too bad. John winces--but doesn't bother disagreeing; not verbally, in his body language, or in anything left unsaid. May I see that red item? Of course. John hands over the clown nose. The reading proceeds apace... The life where you would have worn this absurd thing is far behind you, now--behind such things as demons and forces of evil. Still, you've taken to carrying it with you, for the comfort that it brings; the idea that one day, there will be a world where children like that girl can laugh and smile without needing to fear the shadows and what they hide. It's dark. You should have brought your coat with you. Michael is ever just beyond your reach. His voice carries clearly through the forest even when nothing else does, as if it were mocking you. But even if you catch him only in glimpses, there are others in this forest. Perhaps they're worthy of placing your trust in--if only you could see past the thickets, pierce the curtain of darkness to see them as something other than shadows. At last, your search brings you to something recognizably human: an abandoned house. Yet, spotting another man of the cloth through its window, seeing his stony, confused stare, you startle, retreating to the cover of the treeline like a fool. Worst of all, you dropped it.
Father Berislav	Before what. Be specific, please. "Before I came here to try and exorcise her again. This... wasn't the first time." Did she run away or was that just a cover story? "The latter," says John. 'Red' is right. I need to... address the reality of the situation. The priest takes a measured breath. "I was called here for an exorcism. The Martins weren't particularly religious, but even they could see that something was different with Amy. All of the... usual examinations were done, and the Vatican was satisfied that it wasn't mental illness." John's voice wavers; his throat closes up and his breathing is shallow. Just get to the end. Please. He takes a steadying breath. "They sent myself and my superior, Father Allred, to perform the rites. It's customary for the clergy to perform them without family present--some of them may be frightening or seem... cruel, to laypeople." "Someone--I think it was Mr. Martin--came into the attic, and I had to take him downstairs. When I came back up, Amy had..." John swallows. The effort of the gesture is as if he were swallowing nails, or glass. "She had escaped from her restraints, and... killed. Father Allred. " Stop. Just stop. They don't need to know any more. John takes a sharp breath. "I... blacked out." Only partially true. "When I came to, the Martins were dead, and Amy and I were being taken into custody by the police. I... there was court-mandated counselling. I wasn't allowed back outside until I..." Recanted anything to do with the exorcism. "Until they believed me when I said it was just in my head." He must have come back here to check on her. Father Ward? Would you have... shot her? If you'd gotten scared enough? John grimaces. He'd thought about it. I don't think I'm brave enough to say 'no' truthfully. Please... don't make me think about that night. "I don't know. I'm sorry." No chastisement comes, from John or Berislav. If anything, John seems like he expects to be chastised by her. Let's worry about saving Amy. It's fair to think everyone here wants to save her. So... how're we pulling this off? Breaking into hell dimensions sucks. While Berislav enters into the house and begins taking a look around, John remains outside. "Right... okay." He reaches into his pocket, and hands a bloodstained note to Brick. "The first thing we'd want is to know where she was taken. This should help--I found it after she..." Threw herself from the window. Several spots on the note are spattered with blood and rendered into illegibility. Still, most of it is legible.
Father Berislav	THIS IS THE CEREMONY FOR OPENING THE . LET NO BROTHER OR SISTER UTTER IT. PREPARE THE . USE THE RIGHT INDEX FINGER TO DRAW THE SIGNS OF THE * ON THE FLOOR. BRING AN IMPURE VESSEL TO THE SIGNS OF THE . LET A BROTHER OR SISTER DRINK AT EACH SIGN OF THE . CARVE THE FACE OF THE . THE BLOOD THAT FILLS THE OPENING IS THE NEW . LET SEVEN BE TAKEN FROM THEIR MOTHERS AND LOWERED INTO THE . UPON THE OFFERING OF THE SEVENTH THE * WILL EMERGE FROM THE *. THIS IS THE SECOND DEATH.
Tamamo	The reading does, from an outside perspective, take only a moment for Tamamo to finish. Time enough for her to again be focused when John is explaining. 'She had escaped from her restraints, and... killed. Father Allred.' Tamamo's face shifts into a deep frown, though when she pulls up her coat, only the worry lines are visible. She takes the time while the note is being passed over for examination to explain what she found, and to pass back the red nose. "This was held by another priest, and one in search of Michael Davies, who held 'that girl' in his thoughts, though not one expecting to find a fellow priest in this house. I could not see his face, nor name him, nor say whether he was troubled to greater recklessness or caution in his actions. That he should watch and run suggests the latter, though why one should remain so, in this place, is unclear to me. More like than not, he is one greatly troubled." She turns to Berislav to pose the question, "Are such items oft carried by entertainers of children? Does such a priest exist among those of whom you have heard?" It's the only other clue she could glean. 'So... how're we pulling this off?' "Having a prepared key would make matters simpler, and far faster than attempting to forge our own connection. As to 'safer,' that is... less certain." After a moment, "Ah, by 'key,' I do mean a ritual."
Rowdyruff Boys	"Their 'key'," Brick says to Tamamo, offering the bloodstained note up for inspection by the others while he -- at the same time -- zooms in on it and x-rays it with his remarkable vision to see the structures underlying all the blood and hopefully bypass the staining, "Probably won't be useful for us, since I doubt we want to perform it. If we have a part of the person we're pursuing or the specific dimension we're going to I could provide entry... this note MIGHT work, but I wouldn't count on it. Some element that it uses in its execution would probably do the trick, though. That assumes some of home's assumptions hold in this place." "Uh, so if we could get a hairbrush, or an ID, or something...?" Boomer half-suggests, half-asks, uncertainty etched on his face.
Charlotte Newman	> "The latter" A cover story. Charlotte's shaken nerves have mostly recovered by now, at leat enough to set her face to one of determination as she updates her notes on the case. Father Ward expands on his story with something more complete and she digs in. Her phone clack-clacks away with lightning fast thumbs as she somehow keeps pace with him-- though not in a shorthand language that only perhaps one other person here could feasibly comprehend. Such is the mysterious language of teenagers. When he wraps up, she glances at Meika when she asks about shooting the person they've resolved to save, but doesn't say anything. It is... honestly a fair question to ask. And, Charlotte reasons inwardly, in a life-or-death situation, would anyone blame him? He's obviously terrified. At least as shaken as she was minutes ago, possibly moreso. The girl pauses, eyes skipping over her notes for a moment. Something doesn't feel like it's adding up, she'll have to roll it around in her brain a few times and see what ideas stick to it. It certainly feels like a conspiracy in addition to the supernatural... things. All sorts of stuff Charlotte has little to no experiance with. Berislav enters the house, drawing a look from Charlotte. She's soon distracted though when Ward hands a note to Brick, "Oh, may I take a picture of that?" And if allowed, she lines it up under her phone's flashlight to snap a clean photo. And even if not, she still provides plenty of light to examine the broken message under, frowning at the content, "A missive..? Oh, but this part looks like... instructions? It seems quite sinister at a glance." When Brick offers it to Tamamo, she keeps the light on it for her benefit.
Rowdyruff Boys	"You may not take cell phone photos of incredibly incriminating shit, no," Brick answers Charlotte, eyes flaring into an obfuscating flash of low-intensity heat beam -- not directed at anything, but certainly fucking up the light levels -- if she should actually try in spite of his objection. "Have some fucking standards." Boomer is mouthing apologies over his shoulder.
Charlotte Newman	Charlotte pauses at Brick's reaction. After a moment, she closes her eyes and tucks her phone away, "Well, I suppose we'll have to rely on eidetic memory to remember every clue we come across in unraveling what's going on here."
Rowdyruff Boys	"Get a shitty wind-up and an extremely mediocre camcorder for plausible deniability like every other supernatural investigator and bigfoot hunter," Brick replies, probably at LEAST a quarter jokingly.
Aidan Proudpick	A frown crosses the squirrel's face. "I guess that means they let her out sooner than they let you out." Aidan lets his eyes drift over the note. He whispers the words to himself, trying time to break them into phonemes and piece together a very rough understanding. His eyes widen as he pieces that all together. "Does it mean an actual brother or sister? Or the group brother or sister?" He gestures vaguely, assuming people will know what he means. His brows lower, then raise again, wagging a finger at Tamamo. He points at the crucifix where Father Ward stashed it. "I bet that was the metal thing I saw. Out in the woods! There was something new moving out there. I saw a little bit in the forest, but it was moving fast." Pause, a realization that speed is relative to everyone present, "Faster than a normal person, I mean. But I don't hear anything out there anymore." With that thought out, Aidan turns towards the house. Almost dead. Like a corpse might be. A shell of something, hollow, free of life. A mockery of its former self. Aidan sucks in a breath, both to calm himself as to prepare the lingering bit of magic. Corpses he can handle. As long as those corpses don't get back up and start crawling around in that horrific fashion. With that thought, Aidan lowers the gun. Anything that is going to be in there is certainly going to be a person. Or was once a person. Or might still BE a person. And he has better ways to deal with them.
Hibiki Tachibana	She had escaped from her restraints, and... Second time tonight she wishes she didn't hear more. But she did. She'd much rather focus on what they can do now, rather than what had happened. That part is still going to be critically important, she knows that. But for right this second, at least, it'd be better if she takes her mind off of it to stay focused. Or else she's not going to get anywhere. There's no need to read the bloodstained note herself to take Brick's word about not wanting to perform it. She's good. "...Or something that was really important to her...?" Hibiki does a follow-up on Boomer, equally uncertain when it comes to the matters of ritual.
Powerpuff Girls	Of all of the Powerpuff Girls, Buttercup is certainly the one to agree about quibbling on the Super-Person versus Super-Hero distinction. In this case, it is still a grim motion towards a moment of failure. She might generally be super-heroic, but tonight, she hadn't saved them all. Two part episodes were always harder. "If it wasn't the first time you came here, you didn't..." Buttercup begins, re-soured. Arms crossing, tightening under her armpits, she stops pressing Father John. It's too dismal, even for her. Rough had a place and it was several steps back. She gets the story withut pressing it, filling in the blanks as the poor Padre Numero Two-Oh bears out the dirty, bloody details. "I'm sorry for your loss. We'll save her." Buttercup declares, staring at the house. "This place needs people willing to help. That's why Padre Numero Uno," Berislav, away already. "Called in a whole pile." As for plans. . . Buttercup doesn't really know! It's not a problem she can punch - yet - and the best she has is... "Maybe we can get some items to, like, guide us to her spirit? The ones that are... sad?..." Sympathetic. She's struggling. She wants to help dearly, but Buttercup didn't even like scary movies. She just liked laughing at people who were scared by them. "As long as we have enough people with enough plans and powers-" She ignores the Ruffs getting into a Brotherly Spat (heat vision and apologies), for it is deeply normal to her. "-we can get it done."
Meika Kirenai	Vermillion tries to hold her breath as John explains the story of the Martin house. It's hard to listen. Awful. It's worse to hear how much Father Ward doesn't want to re-live it all. It's not the same as offering sympathy, or a sympathetic glance, even, but the magical girl's breath hitches as she stares down at the floor, demeanor shifting noticeably softer. 'Until they believed me when I said it was just in my head.' She sucks air through her teeth. Tried to explain? Shouldn't a priest like you have known better? You know the rules. You're good at them. So why would you bother, like that? I- I'm sorry. But at least you're honest. "W-well. Maybe it's... good you brought it, anyways. In case." She chews at her lip, and shuffles her stance. "That all sounds scary. You're..." "Are you sure she'd even want you to try this hard? Y-you sound... motivated." Her words carry the vibe of tossing a small rock onto ice, testing and skittish. Charlotte's glance, though, at her earlier question, gets noticed and returned with vitriolic ire. "What, Newman? Just say it." Chevalier Vermillion can't quite tiptoe, not with her skates, to peer over Brick's shoulder and read what she can of the note- but by how she tries to hover behind him, it's really clear she's trying to. A frustrated few noises- and a few silenced gaps where noises should be, and eventually she relents, having got about as clear a picture of the partially illegible note as she can. "What are you getting out of all that..?" A pause, before she starts to mutter. "S-seven. That's a lot. Are there already seven... people, like Amy and Michael..? That we need to help?" She fidgets with her cracked gauntlet, making the metal audibly creak absentmindedly. It's too much to hope for that either Father is aware of the answer to that, but she looks between them expectantly, anyways. "'Safer'. Is that... the biggest worry here, Tamamo-no-mae? It's-" A pause, and a small huff. "At least some of us are tough. And can handle ourselves." Vermillion's eyes flit over towards Buttercup. "S-stuff that's important to her is probably in the house, right? Or..." A long inhale, and silent exhale. "That can't be easy, to look through. To- to stomach looking through, I mean. Do you think it'd really help?"
Father Berislav	Are such items oft carried by entertainers of children? Does such a priest exist among those of whom you have heard? "By clowns, yes," says Berislav, stepping out of the house with something in his hand. It's yellow, but not from age--rather, a carbon copy of something. A police report, if the seal on the top is any indication. "Father Garcia was one, before he became a priest. I wasn't aware that he still carried that with him... in any case, I think this is our next clue." He lifts the copy up, gently tapping it with an index. "Mrs. Martin spoke with someone from the sheriff's department about an intruder at the boys' birthday party." The fact that it was the sheriff and not the regular police is probably due to her having lived out in the sticks like this. "'Tall, pale, dark clothing, bald, with horn-rimmed glasses and a goatee.'" Does it mean an actual brother or sister? "We're dealing with a cult," says Berislav. "It would explain the feeling several of us had, of being watched." Are you sure she'd even want you to try this hard? Y-you sound... motivated. "I have to," says John. Because I failed her when she needed me the most. Because I ran. Are there already seven... people, like Amy and Michael..? That we need to help? "Maybe more," John ventures. "I was... followed, on my way here. By someone in an SUV. I tried not to pay attention, but..." I don't think I'll ever forget the look in his eyss. "I can't run away." Not again. Maybe we can get some items to, like, guide us to her spirit? Uh, so if we could get a hairbrush, or an ID, or something...? ...Or something that was really important to her...? 'The Second Death.' There's very little left of Amy here, save perhaps her quickly drying blood on the shards of broken glass strewn through night-shaded blades of grass, or whatever of hers might still be intact in the house. The problem that Brick and Tamamo run into first is the nature of the things that tied Amy to this place: Which is to say that, whether through Brick's occult knowledge or Tamamo's sight of the connections between things, it quickly becomes evident that Amy Martin wanted very badly for this -not- to be 'home.' Thankfully, both also reveal that for the time being, Amy is still on Earth--just 'someplace else.' That doesn't mean there are -no- leads. After all, as Brick had said, there is always knowing the specific 'dimension' she'd gone to. That phrase--'the Second Death'--had been uttered, like a chant, by the figures in the darkness. More disturbingly--past the living room ('KILL HER' written in blood, as if trying to tempt John), upstairs and into Amy's room, a loose floorboard reveals correspondence between her and someone named 'Gary.' Letters--confessions of love, and a queasy, frightening tone. Sickening, alarming phrases like 'mature for your age,' full of language trying to extricate her from the family. It's like as not that the figure described in the police report Berislav found is this 'Gary' figure, and that he is the key to what's going on in Sterling.