OldLiu: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/10/04 |Location=Unknown |Synopsis=Summary needed |Cast of Characters=204, 61 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses=:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has..."

2017-10-30T20:13:52Z

Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/10/04 |Location=Unknown |Synopsis=Summary needed |Cast of Characters=204, 61 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses=:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has..."

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{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/10/04
|Location=Unknown
|Synopsis=Summary needed
|Cast of Characters=204, 61
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:''' Place: Liverpool, England (Somewhere in Europe...) Time: Sometime in 2012. After Tea Time, Before Happy Hour "I tell you, was the damnedest thing I ever saw... Right about this time last week I'm here at me bar, wipin' down the mugs like usual, and over there in the corner I sees Ringo Bloody Starr! Only it weren't Ringo really. He was sort of... translucent-like. I could tell for sure that it were Ringo's Ghost." The barkeep continues wiping his mugs down with a cloth of questionable cleanliness, taking breaks here and there to gesticulate or point out exactly where it was he saw the Ghost of Ringo. He's an older man, probably well into his sixties, and he's got a pretty impressive mustache that has turned almost entirely white. It's the kind of story a business owner might tell to tourists, to try and drum up a better tip. But the man that the bartender is currently regaling isn't exactly the 'tourist' type. For starters, he's been to England many times. Aside from that, there's the barely noticeable fact that the man is a giant red demon with an enormous stone fist. In fact, he looks like the last person who'd be impressed by a ghost story. But for some reason, he is. "Ringo Starr's ghost, huh? I've been known to dabble a bit in ghost hunting, but I've never heard of a spectral anomaly that manifests BEFORE someone actually dies, and Ringo was alive last I checked. Are you sure it wasn't just Ringo coming to visit his hometown? Or maybe one of those... costume players?" The bartender looks somewhat taken aback by the suggestion, as if his credibility is being called into question. "There's no bleedin' way. Had to be his ghost. Looked just like he did on the telly when I were younger. He even had on the suit, and he were all black and white, liked he'd popped right out of an episode of Top of the Pops. Only he had blood streamin' out of his eyes and a big smile on his face." The giant red demon takes a sip of his beer, still paying close attention to the story despite not seeming overly impressed with it. It's a delicate balancing act that he's mastered over the past few decades. "Damn. And I always thought Ringo was supposed to have been the nice one... What'd he say when you saw him? Did he have any requests?" The bartender sets down the mug he was cleaning, and leans forward to prop one of his elbows on the counter. "All he did was tell me there was this great band right here in Liverpool that I oughta let play in me bar. Buncha wankers callin' themselves 'Mucus Membrane.' Can you imagine? ME? Lettin' a bloody punk band play in my bar? So I says to Ringo: Feck off. And off he goes." His beer empty, Hellboy puts down the mug, and places a twenty dollar bill down next to it. "Mucus Membrane, huh? Sounds like a band that's really going places. Maybe I'll go check 'em out, I'm sure Ringo wouldn't steer me wrong." The demon gets up from the bar, and makes his way toward the back, leaving out of the the rear entrance that opens into an alley. 

:'''{{#var:61|John Constantine (61)}} has posed:'''      A low ruckus coming from the young man on the street telegraphs his fondness for punk music. "I am an antichrist, an' I am an anarch-iste! Dun' know what I want, but I know how to get it!"   In fact, the blonde haired 20something with a decent amount of piercings and hair that seems to defy gravity also seems to advertise 'Mucous Membrane' Clad in his lovely black Doc Martens, and looking somewhere between malnourished and just plain skinny. "I wanna destroy, the passer by, and I wanna be...anarchy!" The lad passes by the alley in front of the pub, not having paid attention to what is in there at all. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:''' Watching the youth pass by, Hellboy is struck by the... dystopian nature of it all. He actually lived through the punk period, but here's this guy in his early twenties trying to bring it all back. Good for him, doomed to fail though it will probably be. Most of all, Hellboy is struck by the coincidence of it all. But if his hunch is right, it's not that much of a coincidence that one of the members of England's Least Popular Band would be lurking near a bar that recently rebuffed a spectral advertisement. Looking down at his watch, Hellboy actually smiles. "Looks like I'll have this case wrapped up in time for Happy Hour." Moving from the alley to the rooftops via a series of quick leaps and a bit of half-assed parkour, Hellboy stalks his prey from a few stories above him. He reaches into one of the pockets of his coat and pulls out his trusty iPhone 4S, tapping in his passcode and unlocking the screen. A quick text is shot off, which is about all he can muster while using only one hand and trying to stalk his prey. Hellboy: Think i fond rings Manning: Say again? Hellboy: Think i fond RINGO. Fucking autocorrect... Hellboy: Found Cursing, Hellboy puts the phone back in his pocket, and quietly wishes they'd go back to using walkie talkies. 

:'''{{#var:61|John Constantine (61)}} has posed:'''      John Constantine rounded the corner, and flipped out his RAZR. "Oi, Jonno, I 'eard that old man at the Sleeping Dog gotta visit from a Beatle's ghost last night. Ol' Ringo suggested to 'im that he should book Mucous Membrane." The blonde just laughs, slipping a Silk Cut into his mouth before lighting it up.   "I think we got'em on that lead now! From 'ere we get a record deal, we'll be the biggest thing since the Pistols! Feckin' fantastic!" A long drag, before he slips out his flask, taking a healthy hit. "Now we just wait for that old bastard at the Sleepin' Dog ta call Marcus and book it." 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:''' Manning: Will we need to send in a cleanup crew? Hellboy: nah just some kids Manning: So you're not going to kill them? Hellboy: didnt say that... Manning: :( Putting the phone away once again, Hellboy finds a nice concealed spot to watch the young punk as he hatches his dastardly schemes. Hellboy has never been in a successful band before, but he's pretty sure this isn't the way most of them get discovered. Rolling his eyes at the (terrible) plan, Hellboy mutters under his breath for nobody's benefit but his own. "This looks like a scared straight situation. Kid's an amateur, shouldn't be hard to make him wet his pants." Stalking from his vantage point above the roof, Hellboy waits until John makes a turn onto a less crowded street and then drops down from several stories up. He lands less than ten feet in front of John, with a THUD so loud that it almost sounds like the pavement is going to crack. Hellboy's hooves will be feeling that one tomorrow. Hellboy's coat flutters around him for a moment before gravity takes over, and he stares straight at John with his infernally-glowing yellow eyes. Even with his horns filed down, it's pretty obvious that he's a demon. "You won't have to worry about getting that deal inked... I'm here to collect your soul." 

:'''{{#var:61|John Constantine (61)}} has posed:'''      John's eyes go a bit wide as Hellboy crashes from the rooftops, but he isn't too phased as he says he is here for John's soul. "Uhh, yeah, Jonno...I'll haveta ring you back in a tick. No, there's a feckin' demon landed right in front of me." A stern look on his face. "No, I'm not takin the piss! He's right fuckin' ere! No, ya can't come and see." John just closes the flip phone before taking his attention to the red one. "Easy there, mate. That soul is already spoken fer." To whom, that is left up in the air. Another drag on his cigarette before he dumps the butt and grabs another, lighting it with his finger. "So, who are you, then? One'a the fallen? Can' be a lesser demon.   "Next time, mate, instead'a doin' the superhero landing, try somethin' wit fire and brimstone, might be a wee bit more authentic." 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:''' "Friggin' millenials... impossible to impress." His easiest plan apparently isn't going to work, since this guy is at least slightly more knowledgeable than he looks. Reflexively, Hellboy looks at his watch, and can't help but see Happy Hour drifting away very much like the Ghost of Ringo did from the Sleeping Dog Bar. "I guess I shouldn't have expected a big reaction from an amateur mystic. It's the total newbies who usually seem to be the most blown away when they meet me. Well, them, and the really evil ones who know who I am. Maybe it says something about you that you're not in either camp." Reaching into his pocket, Hellboy pulls out an already-partially-smoked cigar and a box of matches. He might be immune to fire, but it doesn't look like Hellboy's really into playing with it. Lighting the cigar, Hellboy tosses the match on the ground, where it quickly extinguishes on the cold pavement. It's England, the pavement is damp. "My gut feeling though, is that the only thing it says about you is that you're a douche." 

:'''{{#var:61|John Constantine (61)}} has posed:'''      "S'right mate." He continues the drag, offering his flask to the demon. "I dun play well with either side, buncha pillocks anyways." John very much exudes an air of doucheyness around himself. Cocky, boastful, arrogant. Very much the young 20something. But it is something he basks in, he owns it. "Oh, Red, my feelin's all hurt now. Bein called a douche by a total stranger." Another drag on the cigarette. "So what? I don't suppose that Ringo upset the balance much, but then again, you lot 'ave no sense of humor." 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:''' "No. No, I suppose it didn't upset the balance." Puffing on his cigar, Hellboy seems pretty much immune to the stares of the occasional passersby. The street's a bit less crowded, but not empty, and people are snapping pictures with their iPhone 4s, and wishing the picture quality wasn't so terrible. "But little tricks like that won't get you on the cover of Rolling Stone. They'll get you on the cover of... whatever they call the National Enquirer in England." Hellboy gets a bit closer to the man he's clearly trying to intimidate. Close enough that his cigar smoke gets puffed straight in John's face every time that Hellboy utters a syllable. "I've been on the cover of the National Enquirer ninety three times. It's not the kind of reputation that you want." 

:'''{{#var:61|John Constantine (61)}} has posed:'''      "The Mirror." John retorts, shrugging. "I'm more surprised the old bastard bought the ghost of Ringo Starr more than anythin'." John says. Once Hellboy approaches him, that wonderful tobacco smell permeates his face. Johntakes a drag and blows right back. "Alright then, no more fake dead Beatle's mate." 
}}

2696/Log 2696 - Revision history

OldLiu: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/10/04 |Location=Unknown |Synopsis=Summary needed |Cast of Characters=204, 61 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses=:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has..."