4501/Constantine Meets his End(less)

Constantine Meets his End(less)
Date of Scene:	23 May 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Death calls on Constantine, but not for the usual reason.
Cast of Characters:	Constantine, Shatterpoint

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Constantine has posed:
It's evening and the House of Mystery from without looks its normal spooky self. Within, well, it mostly looks spooky there too but in the part where John lives, a small corner of the massive sprawling extradimensional home, things are brightly lit and the Sex Pistol's "Nevermind the Bollocks" was playing in the background as John poured over a few of the House's old tomes. "Wild magic and pixies" he mutters to himself, hand on one hip as he flips through old and brittle pages with his others. "Got to be here somewhere."

The sorcerer, is dressed in his customary attire, white shirt, jeans, the trenchcoat has been tossed over a high back chair and his tie, as always, is just slightly undone. His toe taps lightly to the beat.

Shatterpoint has posed:
    Constantine rifles through tomes and shelves looking for a section in a book that likely came around before the idea of an index, not to mention whether or not the House itself is keeping the information from him for /whatever reason/. Regardless of this, though, it isn't John that finds the information he's looking for.

    "About halfway through the book. Doesn't usually appear unless someone tells you where it is, page numbers don't matter and really, it typically waits until you're at least a little aggravated before you can get the right page."

    The voice is helpful and friendly, and when John turns to face it, sitting in the chair that he'd set his coat on is a raven haired woman whose flesh was not merely pale- but indeed a literal white. Her clothes, a tanktop and jeans, with this wide, studded leather belt, gloves and boots- the kind of eclectic, gothic attire that just has to be punctuated by... A large, ominous Ankh, just barely not too large to be hung from the necklace that it is.

Constantine has posed:
John nearly jumps out of his skin, friendly voice or not. By the rules of the house nobody should be able to do that, at least without the House wanting them there. Though those rules didn't apply to his guest, not that he knew that, yet.

He turns and sees who's speaking, and his breath catches, and it all makes sense.

"Middle of the book, yeah?" he asks, "Will keep that in mind."

He steps away from the shelf a touch and glances over his shoulder. "Didn't feel someone slip a knife in my back, so guessing this is a social call rather than a business one," he says with just the slightest waver to his voice. Death, not matter how kind was still Death.

Shatterpoint has posed:
    Death is particularly casual. Leg crossed one over the other, and her right arm draped somewhat on the handle of a black umbrella. The way she sits there is almost languid- maybe even a little lazy, but that wouldn't be a fair accusation.

    "All my calls are social. They're all also business, so really whenever I'm around it's business-casual." She offers this little chuckle at her own joke, but straightens up after a moment.

    "A while back, you came face to face with something that's my fault. I knew that just showing up like that would cause her to raise a few eyebrows, and raise a few questions. I'm here to answer them now that you've had the proper time to mull it over."

Constantine has posed:
The joke is met with the ghost of a smile, John's still wary as to the whys and wherefores of Death's visit. He's got more than one infernal thing with a lien on his soul, he's not too keen to shuffle off this mortal coil just yet to let them get a chance to collect. Though when Death states her reasons for visiting, he lets out his held breath. "Well that's a treat," John remarks. "You coming to see me and offering an explanation at that." He leaves off with that line of thought for a moment to ask, "Get you something?" he asks, as he goes to where he's got a couple of beers. "We've got beer and beer. Ran out of whiskey last night," he explains nodding at the pair of empty bottles on the desk by the unopened beers.

"Anyhow, you mean Caroline, then?" he asks, "The ghost that isn't. Threw me for a loop that one."

Shatterpoint has posed:
    "I'm afraid I'm not here to accept gifts, but it's fine either way. I appreciate your love of alcohol." There's a quiet, then, and if Death could be somber even for a moment, that's when it happens.

    "The good Detective Ramsey." she begins this sentence with a small shrug. "She's going to continue doing that if you really look hard enough. I've never really put anything like that together before."

Constantine has posed:
"Suit yourself," John says as he cracks open a bottle, then wanders over to take a seat across from Death. He takes a swig of the warm brew as he considers Death's words. "Alright, I'll buy that, grave dust didn't have an effect, same for crosses, what is she then and why'd you make her?"

John has another swig and waits for an answer, his curiosity writ on his face.

Shatterpoint has posed:
    "Well, she's not a zombie. Not a vampire. Not a ghoul or whatever slang terms you kids are using for various forms of undead nowadays. She's been a century in the making, near enough. Fifty years was good enough to take that cake out of the oven."

    Offering a little shrug, she responds to Constantine's question rather directly. "She is a person, Johnny. But, if she were a thing, that thing would be a weapon. A really, really potent one. Wish we hadn't designed her in the nineties, she'd have been less edgy- not the nineteen nineties, some things are just a little cyclical- but we put together a genuine nightmare. You can figure out a name for it if you like but I don't think classifying something that there's only going to be one of is going to be of much use."

Constantine has posed:
"That's quite a bit of work for someone of your pedigree," John observes over the top of his beer before taking a third swig. He lowers it, eyes on Death. "Guess, it's that end of the century vibe, leads to all sorts of bad choice, edgy whatevers one century, Hammer pants the next," he says with a smile and a nod. "Still doesn't give me any clue why you'd spend fifty or so years putting Ms. Ramsey together. Don't seem the type to put someone together like that for no reason."

Shatterpoint has posed:
    "Well all good things take time, and I happen to know when time begins and ends. Why is two questions, why -her- and what -at all- and I don't really... Figure you're going to want the answer to both."

    She straightens up in the chair, moving the umbrella in front of her and resting both hands on it. "The why at all is simple. We've got dragons out there, and while I can't really get right in the way, I've deemed it to a degree unfair not to contribute to the fighting chance you guys here on Earth are going to need to have. After all, you guys are definitely my favorite."

    "As for the why -her-, that's a little more complex. We came up with this idea a long time ago, as far as you guys are concerned. When we did, the idea of -who- was a really difficult question to answer. We couldn't really see anybody worth it who didn't already have an arsenal, as it were. And we also didn't really have any great tests at the time... Fast forward to about sixty years ago, right?"

    "Sixty years ago was the first time Darkseid really made contact. Almost got his chance to show up, long before the boy in blue or the blonde could punch him back to Apokolips."

Constantine has posed:
That bit about giving folks on Earth a fighting chance earns a slight cocking of his head and an approving hm. "So, Earth for us folk, eh? That's your aim? If so, can't say I mind the help, we've got more n' our share of dragons," he asks wanting to be sure. He does crack a smile though, "Glad to know we're appreciated," he says. "Mind if I ask what put us on the top of your list? I'm curious, most of the time we're right bastards."

"Yeah, she said she died on Apokolips, guessin' she got snatched then back in, what, the forties?" he says. "So, was that all there was to it? Or did this detective of yours have other qualifications?"

Shatterpoint has posed:
    Wagging one finger without taking her palm off of the handle of the umbrella, death shakes her head. "You really aren't sure what qualifies as a Dragon yet but I like the enthusiasm and I appreciate your appreciation." Clicking her tongue, she continues. "What put you on the top of my list? You're my favorite! You guys are all just so much fun, I really don't have the time to explain what's so awesome about you that you're up there. I'd be here all day and that wouldn't be fair."

    Chuckling a little bit, she segues into the answer for his last question without delay. "The sixties, actually, but that's not necessarily the most important thing. I'm going to try and have you imagine... Take a moment and put yourself in my shoes. Imagine you're me, and this girl gets caught up with Darkseid's first shot at taking over here. Meets Diana- who isn't even really a celebrity yet in the United States at this point- and the two of them end up on Apokolips. Diana? Out of the picture. Shenanigans happen, and she's back on Earth, but the bad guys have got the coordinates."

    The way she's describing it, almost sounds like the last scene in an action movie.

    "They have to destroy this machine, right, to stop it from knowing where to find them and slow him down as much as she can. So she's doing the whole violent sacrifice thing, and I'm pretty proud of you guys. As it happens, but this is her -time.-" A pause, "You know what I mean." Going back to her explanation, "So she gets shot five times. Police revolver, too- the partner's gone bad! Was bad the whole time! This is supposed to be -it.- Her body was supposed to fall and with her last breath, she flips the switch to overload the machine."

Constantine has posed:
The finger wag gets a snort, "Took a guess, demons, mad gods, things from the stars?" he asks of the dragons. "And actual bloody dragons," he adds. Though they might get a pass, they were in so far as he knew terrestrial.

The snort becomes a soft chuckle, "Glad we amuse then, welcome any time," he says with a congenial nod.

John leans forward as Death tells her tale, taking the odd sip of his beer as he does so, but when she gets to Caroline's death, he says, "Gets through all that with Star-Spangled Panties, and it's her partner that does her in?" he makes a face and takes a swig from his beer. "But sounds like she'd done her bit, got her big sacrifice, should have been a visit from you and a ticket right through the pearly gates, yeah? So, what happened?"

Shatterpoint has posed:
    "What happened?" she asks, "What -didn't- happen is the big question! That was -supposed- to be it, I said. A proud moment, this regal self-sacrifice. But she didn't -die-." Leaning backwards into a more restful position, that statement is allowed to stew.

    "Don't get me wrong- I'm not saying I couldn't have forced the issue. But when an otherwise normal human being pushes -me- back by wanting it enough, it warrants a level of respect. She takes that time to spare the partner- Boom tubes like to suck things through so she just got him in the knee. Then, by the time she felt she was -ready- to pass, Darkseid was already there. Wasn't having any of it. Pushing at me bought him the time to save her life. How does -that- catch you?"

Constantine has posed:
"Neat trick," John remarks of Caroline not dying. Though despite the glib remark he is still leaning forward to hear the tale.

"Pushed you back, to spare the bloke who shot her? Bloody saint, isn't she?" he says, "And that's not even taking into account what it must take to push you back. How many times that happen?" he asks.

The question, gets a nod and John settles back with his beer. "Sounds like she's got a serious will to live and a horseshoe up her ass or something else took a hand." His eyes raise to check how close he got.

Shatterpoint has posed:
    Death almost snorts. "A saint? No. She didn't do it to spare the guy, she did it because- I figure, it's impossible to know that the weight of your corpse is going to do the job. Getting her partner off of Apokolips was just one of those little benefits that you hero types get. Destiny likes to throw you kickers every now and then, I think. At least it seems like it, I don't really want to know for sure."

    "Twice, specifically, but as I said- it's not as if I can't force the issue. Once, on that day. Then later, when she had finally made Darkseid angry enough to do the deed. He did the usual villainous thing- put her into an arena, made her fight for her life day to day, lasted a decade."

Constantine has posed:
"Practical," John remarked of her choice when the details were unfurled before him. "Much better than a saint," the words punctuated by the final sip of beer from the bottle. He rises to get a second.

"You're sure you don't want this?" he asks lifting the second beer. John may not be one for manners most of the time, but Death was an exception.

"What set him off? Or was it surviving that long in his arena. Can make a fellow testy, I bet. But more importantly, who was stepping in and stopping her from getting her due moment of rest?"

Shatterpoint has posed:
    "Practical is good in a weapon." she remarks, before shaking her head again. "I'm sure. I've had my fill of beer and wine after a time." After that, she lets out this little sigh. "What set him off? Was when she hit the same device again. See Darkseid has a... A fetish for Earth, I think. He really wants it. So he devoted a lot of effort finding a way back, which included putting back together the information and technology he needed to find the place. Thing is, a few of his gladiators found it out- that's the trouble of keeping a detective in your pits- and I swear, I've never seen so many walls broken down."

    She stretches lightly, and then moves to a stand. "Then, when they were through setting the charges, there was a discussion, and she'd legitimately been there the least- she didn't really volunteer, but I swear, she really wanted to see the look on his face when he found out what they'd done."

Constantine has posed:
John cracks the second bottle open, "Fair 'nuff," he remarks before a smirk claims his features, "She hit the thing again?" he asks with an appreciative shake of his head. "Practical and gutsy," he says amending his previous statement on the good detective.

The last part draws a chuckle out of him, "Yeah, after ten years, I might have stayed to see it too. So, what happened then?"

Shatterpoint has posed:
    Death shrugs a little bit. "Well, he killed her. Strapped her into a machine, spent an unbelievable amount of time doing the- the Omega eye-lazer thing. That's... That'd take a long time to explain. Just imagine the worst pain, and then... Imagine double that, or so. For a pretty long time. But it doesn't kill you- just hurts. When he wants it to."

    Noting that, she rests on the umbrella like a cane. "When he got bored of inflicting basically infinite pain, that's when he replaced her blood with Apokoliptian Freon. It's not really freon, but it did the trick of killing her very, very slowly."

Constantine has posed:
John pulls a face at that description. He's seen plenty that might come close to that, and so he's got an idea of what all that might have entailed. "Brutal bastard, glad he's been sent off to wherever," he mutters of Darkseid.

He takes a long pull of his beer to keep the ghosts of witnessed tortures past floating up into his brain, and nods, "That's when you shaped her into your dragon slayer then?" he asks. "After that death?"

Shatterpoint has posed:
    "Well, sent home. And, yeah, during that death. I had a reputation to uphold, so I couldn't really let that go over the same way a second time. Empowered, though- that's what I did. Gave her what I figured she'd need to lend a hand. By then, she'd already gotten that... Vengeance kick. Really useful."

Constantine has posed:
John nods, "Not sure if that was a favour or not, given what she faced," he says, the beer is set down and he draws a Silk Cut from a pack in his shirt pocket and lights it with an errant bit of flame from his finger. Dark topics always made him crave a smoke. "I'd offer but we've done this dance before," he says. The hard death, it resonated. He'd seen things like it, been a part of some. "And yeah, once you've gotten setting things to rights into your system, hard to get it out again," he says letting smoke out of his nose like some sort of dragon. "Know the type," he remarks dryly. "So, where's she at these days, your dragonslayer? Last I saw, she was with the tights crowd at the Hall of Justice."

Shatterpoint has posed:
    "Gotham. Where else do the angstier sorts of vigilantes go? She'll need guidance. She's from the sixties, it was a different time. In addition, all that makes it hard to stay eh... Human. And you guys want her to stay human."

Constantine has posed:
"'Couse," John says of Caroline ending up in Gotham. And there it was, the crux of all this story telling, he had an inkling it'd come to that, he takes a long drag from his cigarette while he considers. "Right. Suppose given what she's made for we do," he says. "Alright, consider the duty filled, I'll help her keep her humanity, get in touch with the times, meet folks, should be a bit of a gas," he says, letting the smoke hang from his mouth. "Don't suppose I get a free pass on account of helpin' out do I?" he asks hopefully.

Shatterpoint has posed:
    Death gives this wide smile. "Sorry Johnny, but you guys get the best deaths. The coolest ones, sometimes. But that's all I can give you- the same thing I give everyone else. A lifetime. No more, no less. I know what you're thinking- but you don't want what she's got."

Constantine has posed:
"Worth a try, wasn't it?" John says back, smiling too. "I guess, I'll make do with cool." There's a hm, at the last bit. "Yeah, sounds like a real ride, don't worry, not dumb enough to think I want any of what she got," he says, it still chilled his bones. "Anyhow, I'll watch out for your girl, don't you worry, could use a mate to hang out with that's already dead, more or less, saves time really."

Shatterpoint has posed:
    Death nods a couple of times. "It'll save money on your power bill for sure. No need to keep the AC running during the summmer. Anyway, you had wild pixies to banish, I'm sure. Might want to get back to that." Likely, Constantine will glance to or pay more attention to the book he was handling earlier. When he does, she's gone.

    Because of course that's how it works.