14072/A little slice of ordinary...take two

A little slice of ordinary...take two
Date of Scene:	11 January 2022
Location:	Lucifer's Penthouse, Melville
Synopsis:	Lucifer, Sinister, and Constantine are planning things.
Cast of Characters:	Lucifer, Sinister, Constantine

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Lucifer has posed:
This time we start in the later part of the morning. Lucifer is currently sitting at the piano - where he doesn't often sit these days - but since the couple have decided to take it easy, talk things through and plan their next moves, he felt like tickling the ivories. And, of course, belt out what he's playing since he's actually playing a viable tune this time. "If the Heavens ever did speak, He is the last true mouthpiece, Every Sunday's gettin' more bleak, A fresh poison each week...I was born sick, You heard them say it, My church offers no absolution, he tells me worship in the bedroom. Only heaven I'll be sent to, is when I'm alone with you...I was born sick. But I love it. Command me to be well..." A pause and then, "Take me to church. I worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies, I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife, offer me that Deathless death, good god, let me give you my life..."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister is sitting in one of the high back leather chairs, listening. It's a treat to get to hear a maestro at the ivories, given that it doesn't occur all that often as noted. His eyes are closed and his chin is resting on the backs of his knuckles, propped elbow to chair arm. His foot is bobbing though, the solemn slow punctuation of an ode to depravity and simple deviancy. He hasn't been quite eager to advance out into the world the last couple of days, remaining sequestered whilst processing of the last few day's events transpired.

However, that's not to say he hasn't been thinking. It's very hard for him not to do that, overall. It happens even when he's not trying, half the time.

Constantine has posed:
It's become a tradition: as relaxing times begin, the elevator warns the room of a visitor. The smell of fresh (and cold) tobacco which wafts in as the doors open warn of Constantine. He gives a glance around before leaving the lift, as a courtesy but also to prevent himself from walking into complications. What kind? Up here with these two, you can never know. The coast seems clear. "Cheerio." Right away, he goes for the bar where he can crush a cigarette butt. "Good times?"

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer glances over and gives an upnod to Constantine as the man helps himself to an ashtray and the bar. A bit of a squint, because the man doesn't live here and there are certain liquors he should keep himself out of, but for the most part suppose Lucifer doesn't mind him being there. He continues to play, and sing, no regard given to question answering from him. "If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight, to keep the Goddess on my side, she demands a sacrifice, to drain the whole sea, get something shiny. Something meaty for the main course. That's a mighty fine high horse. What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful. That looks tasty. That looks plenty. This is hungry work...Take me to church! I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife. Offer me that Deathless death and good god, let me give you my life..." He repeats the chorus and then goes into a whole round of 'Amen...Amen...Aaaaamen..." Before finally ending the song.

Sinister has posed:
Without opening his eyes, Sinister lifts his unoccupied hand to wave to Constantine in a fingerwiggle, though with the conclusion of the rendition of Hozier's lyrics, he gestures at himself all over. "Goosebumps," he declares, relinquishing the darkness with a blink. He looks human of note, which he does quite often for the sake of ... well, there's probably a reason. A man in his late thirties or early forties, with steely blue-grey eyes. Applause follows. "Bravo, my angel. Bravo..." rising, he moves to the piano, gives the pianist a kiss on account of a fabulous rendition and a shoulder squeeze, before tucking his thumbs into his belt-loops and looking over with his head cocked to Constantine.

"Well, I hope you're well, John. This seems to be the opportune moment to brainstorm and make a few plans." He proffers this, before considering the wall of Whiskey. A couple of tumblers are floated free and one of the 50 year old malts is selected; one neat, one on the rocks. The neat one is floated over to Lucifer.

Constantine has posed:
"Well done," John approves for the song although he won't applaud. Also his hands are busy pouring from his flask into a glass something clear, like vodka maybe or everclear. "I'm quite okay and I'll do my best to not overplan today. How are you two doing? I was called to exorcise a barn somewhere in Oklahoma so I missed a few days... turns out someone had been watching one movie too many about Zuul and little marshmellow men. So... I dragged it a bit and ramped up my expenses. Wrote up something about proton pack fuel for fifteen hundos. That'll teach 'em to hike me all the way there without a good reason." Nonplussed, John drops one of those coctail umbrellas in his glass of cleaning fluid. "How's your health, Lucifer?"

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer returns the kiss and smirks at Nathaniel even as the man had offered his applause and bravos. "Thank you love. It's...well I can't say I listen to that song often but it came up on my mind today and so I had to get it out. Like an earworm I couldn't get rid of." He offers this and then glances to Constantine. "I am healthy as ever, thank you. We figured out what the issue was and fixed it. Course, not before I caught some sort of cold for a day but... Nathaniel helped with that too." Then he tilts his head, plucking that floating whiskey from the air. "Oh, Nathaniel love, any word from Hong Kong?"

Sinister has posed:
"Sometimes, the only way to teach a lesson is to hit people where it hurts: In their wallet," Sinister observes, lifting his whiskey on the rocks to Constantine at his marshmellow goose chase. He sips as Lucifer elaborates, chuckling at the need for an Ear-worm exorcism, inclining his head with a murmur "...and changed the lyrics to be more appropros..." looking over at Constantine, then back to Lucifer with a shake of the head. "Nothing yet. Nothing from my distant mind either, so either way, they've not cottoned on to the wolf in their midst."

Another glance to Constantine. "A couple of days ago, I got a wake-up call to the fact that the collective is aware that I'm aware of them. So they're not ignorant. They sent someone to screw with -me- in order to find out what I knew. It didn't go so well for them, but it wasn't exactly fun for me either. A sobering reminder that I am not immune to being smacked upside the head. Luckily, Lucifer was fully recovered from his malaise by then."

Constantine has posed:
"Lucifer escapes death once more," John says with gravity. He doesn't joke much about death. The he has his signature grin at the mention of revenge. "I know too well how it is to get hit in the wallet." He toasts to that and drinks. No blisters on his lips, though, so battery acid is not what he's drinking today. He clears his throat. "How hard were you hit? Follow up question: did you capture whoever flew over?" His eyes dart up and about, showing how many questions come to his mind but he's learned to take it slower, else nothing gets done. Instead, he busies himself with lighting up a cigarette. He blows out a smoke ring, for the show. "Collective, heh?"

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer decidedly will let Nathaniel answer the question regarding how hard he was hit and the sort of hovering inquiry about collectives. It only solidifies his fear that perhaps they should keep Constantine at an arm's length from this issue. He doesn't really want to hear about how the entire force that is Sinsiter's workers should be eliminated from the world. "So your little trip to Oklahoma got you paid but you missed out on some fun here. Can't win them all I suppose."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister inhales deeply. "Quite hard. One of the collective sent a clone of one of my own Marauders to screw with me. She hired a local with a talent for scrambling the brain to hit me like a ton of bricks, in the hopes of getting me to talk. It left my short term memory and some of my long term memory frazzled -- As a result I've been testing my capabilities carefully, to make sure I remember how to do everything and how to more importantly -control- it. But yes, we ousted her. And turned her into a mole, so we should have information about the Hong-kong chapter soon enough." Folding his arms, Sin looks to Lucifer, then back to Constantine.

"So, some discussion and disclosure needs to occur, I think. You both need to know what I'm truly capable of, if we're to be able to effectively counteract a duplicate of me. Or rather, several of them."

Constantine has posed:
John nods to Lucifer, still sporting that smug smile. The smile melts into a 'O' as Nathaniel explains what they've been facing while he was otherwise diverted. "Might be that the collective sent me to Oklahoma themselves, y'know? I'm a kind of outlier, with my magic and all. Un-quan-ti-fia-ble." He composes himself by taking a long drag from his cigarette. "That'd be a good start to get to know you and your doubles better, no lies. I won't be offended if you keep some things to yourself though. Fatal flaws and such. Secrets have a life of their own sometimes. Also..." He takes a moment to reflect, and take a sip, "Would you like something to keep some of your memories in? Something not unlike a magical diary. Can be done."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer oddly feels out of place for the moment and so he looks back to the piano and simply begins to gently play a tune. "I saw a measure of your strength the other day, while your brain was scrambled. By the by, we might need to have the kitchen counter re-leveled... or just repaired. I'm not sure yet." He calmly offers and then continues to play. "Like Constantine, I will take any information you give, and understand what information you keep to yourself still. Trust, my love, as always,"

Sinister has posed:
"You both are, actually. My attention has only recently turned to the non-physical, non-terrestrial aspect of collective research. Magic, inhumans with mystical ability, whether certain factors are also in their own right, mutagenic. Which some of it is. But I alone am consistently broadening my horizons. That is our advantage at the moment," nodding to both of them, he glances to the kitchen and grimaces slightly. "Yes. That was unintentional. Unaided by my mind, I can probably lift a freight train and throw it a fair distance. With my mind, that distance is doubled," he admits this quietly. "You already know I regenerate as fast, if not faster than the wolverine." He chews on his cheeks. "Other physical traits, well, I am quicker than I ever let on. Lucifer can teleport, there are times when I don't need to. I could probably move fast enough to relatively easily find cover from a hail of bullets, not that I'd need to. I also do not tire quickly. It usually takes hours of purely /physical/ exertion at top levels, for me to become fatigued. I can run at probably seventy miles an hour, if I have to."

Looking up at them both again, he shrugs shoulders back and sits on the edge of the chair, drinking a sip of whiskey. "I also cannot easily be poisoned, burned, suffocated or otherwise. I don't need to breathe. I can similarly control every molecule in every cell of my body with my mind, when I'm fully cognisant, capable of replicating my mitosis at a very rapid rate, which means I can be up to ten times my own bodymass at relative whim and I can split my consciousness between multiple separate entities, being a hive mind. Hence why the collective is as it is. They have that talent from myself." He shrugs. "My most dangerous assets though are probably my technopathy and telepathy. I /can/ shield my mind and those of others from perception. I know all the minds in this city block by rote. And I can, when I want to, cause collective amnesia, along with implant false memories with relative ease..."

Constantine has posed:
John lets out an appreciative whistle. "That leaves Hellfire out of the picture. Sure, it can burn better than most flames but if your doubles resist it when we expect a take down, we have a telepathic freight train coming at us." He considers his glass and for now, leaves it alone. "Can't afford getting our minds invaded or endangering innocents turned into weapons either. Paralysis is a half measure because it doesn't stop the mind and blinding flashes... not quite as efficient against a mind hive who can share vision through telepathy. Banishing them to another world means we have what... three months before they open a gate and return?"

John shakes his head with concern. "I think we better play this one smart. Hit them in the wallet, as you both said. Destroy their base and scatter them if we can, from a safe distance. Then we can pick on them easier."

Lucifer has posed:
"Au contraire, dear Constantine. Hellfire CAN hurt Nathaniel... well... it can hurt any Sinister that doesn't have celestial DNA injected into their system. We already did the experiment." Lucifer offers. "Please do not think you know things of my realm better than myself, and do not assume things. Hellfire is not your regular fire, no matter how much you try to convince yourself it is." This much and then Lucifer sips his whiskey and pulls out a silver case of his own cigarettes, offering it to Nathaniel after he takes one. "And it's not best if we just scatter them around. These are the same clones that Mister Im Gonna Fuch With Rifts came from. Clones go bad, clones get dead."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister selects a cigarette, leaning toward Lucifer for the obligatory light, taking a long drag afterwards, considering John's words. "I agree though, on the playing smart, rather than hard. I propose that you both take a look at mysticism that can make the mind very hard to effect - like water off a duck's back. We can test it on myself. If I can't casually get through a magic, they certainly won't be able to either. But... I'm a little loathe to hit them in the wallet. The only way I can effectively do it, is coding all my research and laboratory locks to my /specific/ DNA. I suppose temporarily that's workable, though."

He muses a moment, looking over at Lucifer long and hard, then at his whiskey and cigarette and back to John. "I have a question: Is technomagery possible?"

Constantine has posed:
John for a moment is lost in thoughts, partly. He does register what Lucifer says about Hellfire and nods, Hellfire IS strong. He also nods at not scattering the clones, which makes him wince at his strategical mistakes. He also diverts his gaze in Nathaniel's general direction, when he speaks. "We can't afford to let them come to us, I gather. They'll just clone themselves and wear us down, one strike at a time..." That thought, he believes, hits the bullseye but gives him no respite. "I'll go hit the books, peruse my shelves for trinkets and ask around on the streets. Carefully. I'm very reluctant about summoning third parties to this even if demons or spirits would be quite the help. Whenever I do, I pay the price. Well... most of the time." He empties his glass and grimaces. That was a lot of paint thinner in one shot.

"Better I go back to the Mansion and start digging. I have something for you..." John finds a small lucite display case in his coat, square and flat with tiny hinges on one side. A stamp? "This will allow you to mail me a letter on the same day at my place. Just drop it in any mailbox. No parcels, please? Anything of non-standard letter size will get lost and pop somewhere at random. It can be quite embarassing."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer decides it isn't worth the argument, or the correction. Let Constantine think what he wants. Hell maybe he's right and the clones can clone themselves. It's not out of the realm of possibilities but clones of clones just seems to be a degraded sort of thing. Why replicate the replicated when the real thing still exists? At least in Lucifer's mind. Cigarettes are lit, and smoked, whiskey is drank and then he considers. "I'm sure most anything that exists can exist in some sort of techno-form... why do you ask?"

Sinister has posed:
"I just had an idea, is why. If a spell can be delivered technologically, to specific... well, encodings I suppose... they definitely will not expect that. And I have thier isotope markers on file. I just have no idea how that kind of thing works and if it could be delivered by such scientifically specific means," Sinister replies. "That way, if any of them tries to access my bank accounts, or the research, they'd basically get the 'virus' so to speak."

He looks at both of them, to see if he's gone off the deep end. "Or am I barking up entirely the wrong kind of tree? I'm sorry, this is very much -not- my forte." He takes the stamp though, examines it with his head cocked slightly.

"They could clone themselves, true enough. It is risky for them though, as there'd be no guarantee of similar inclination, despite what you would think. Each of them is very slightly different from me, even though they're from my genetic code originally. Sometimes, they even spontaneously mutate. And unfortunately as is this case, get ideas." He looks quizzically at Constantine a moment. "Is it possible for another to pay a price, or is it solely the mage's responsibility?"

Constantine has posed:
John retracts his hand from reaching at something not there. That turns out a bit weird. "Hm. You can store spells in vessels, sure. You have to have both the spell, the trigger and the vessel carefully prepared. Magic will still show as magic though, for those with the Sight. The... price... as you say, varies. Spell backfires, anyone can suffer. When summoning entities, the mage is most likely the first target because they can banish the summoned guy. Or summon them again, which is very annoying. And if there's a chaotic cascade because the magic was too complex, the effects are almost always permanent and fatal. Not always deadly but most likely final... like the singing Tesseract, right?"

John crushes his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "I can work out some kind of basic triggered spell. Something that can be physically triggered works? Magic and computer science... well, I don't trust them together. Both are prone to bugs and malfunctions."

Lucifer has posed:
"That sounds like the plot of a movie..." Lucifer offers and then thinks about it for a moment. "Oh yeah! Independence Day. The one where the aliens come and wanna take over, but we fly their own ship to the mother ship and upload a virus..." He grins then. "I actually think it's a good idea, in theory, the question is more can it be done. I think it can be..." Constantine seems to think it can be as well which is good. Maybe. "Right then. I'm going to go soak in a tub for a little while and just... relax. I think that's what we need. Just... a day of relaxing. No diseases, no clone issues, no demon summoning... just...calm..."

Sinister has posed:
"Except that the virus is ..." but then Sinister thinks about it and nods. "I suppose that's very much like. Alright, I guess what needs to be thought about is what the spell would entail and... how to actually vesselize it?" He looks at JC at that, to see if that makes any sense, but gets himself caught up in cigarette and whiskey thereafter. Both are polished off, the former surrendered for conflagration, the latter emptied and floated to the sink. Permanent singing tesseract is considered, then he states his case. "John, what I want to do is exploit my own technomancy -- I am reliant on my machines and so are they. If a spell of disruption can be loaded into the interfaces that we share, specified to a specific genome... and we have a sample of the flesh and blood that needs targetting... they can be severely harmed, by the one thing that all things Sinister does not usually account for: Magic. Whatever the spell is, the vector should be my own reliance on my own gadgets. It's a surefire way of making sure -they all- get it. Does that make sense?"

He gestures though at Lucifer. "However, for now, I'm with him. I'm sure you understand."

Constantine has posed:
"Right." John grows somber at the mention of genetic homing. He knows what that means. "I think I have what you need but it needs to remain contained or we'll have a very sad Hong Kong with no internet for a while. Let me worry about this." He now reaches for the Door for real. "Thanks for having me over. Use the stamp." And with that, he's through and gone home.