5501/A Demon's Lair

A Demon's Lair
Date of Scene:	05 October 2018
Location:	New York City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Etrigan (Jason Blood), Derek Khanata, Ash Williams, Hellboy

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Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Jason Blood's home in New York is a converted brownstone, three stories and labyrinthine on the inside. While there's nothing mystical about the house itself, outside of some specialized wards and protections placed on certain part of it, there's undeniably a spooky air to the place. The shadows seem a little bit deeper. The brick seems a bit more aged, as if it were withstanding something, decaying just a bit more than the other houses around it.

Blood, for his part, is toying with the idea of chasing the dragon today. He developed a taste for opium back in the 19th century, when it was a fad in his native Britain amongst the idle and the wealthy and the decadent. Blood is all three of these.

He senses the approach of strangers, setting off the simple proximity enchantments he's placed around the house. A flick of his fingers at a nearby mirror lets him look at the approaching individuals. Interesting.

Derek Khanata has posed:
'65 Imapala convertible, black with red interior, top down. Three men--an African at the wheel, an amputee in the passenger, a giant red demon in the back, all smoking, all wearing sunglasses. It must be the Howling Commandos.

The driver is impeccable in a trim, modern navy suit. He reaches to lower the radio, the blaring horns section of Mingus's 'Better Get Hit In Yo' Soul' fading into the ambient traffic noises. As he makes a sharp left turn, cigarette hanging from his mouth, he glances back at Hellboy, "Okay, Big Red. This one's your pick, and I've been burning the candle at both ends, so you're going to have to fill me. What's the story with this guy? Big black magic hoodoo man?"

Ash Williams has posed:
Ashy Slashy is back in town. Which means the harness is on, a shotgun strapped to his back with a bone-handled dagger rather crudely duct-taped to the end as a makeshift bayonette, a pocket full of loose shells makes one side of otherwise sensible and well-worn slacks slightly bulge, and where his right hand should be, a beaten up red homelite XL chainsaw has been attached. "So, what's the game plan here? We being good guys, or bad guys?" A chuckle follows, as the woefully human El Jefe seems to once again be partnered up with forces beyond his understanding.

His chainsaw-hand rests between his legs, blade resting on one of his shoes to show /some/ respect for the classics. It's an Impala, not the Delta, so it needs to be treated gently lest it fall apart. He flicks his cigarette, and then adds with a trademark smirk. "Keeping gathering people like this, I'm gonna assume you're not expecting all of 'em to come back."

Hellboy has posed:
    "Couple'a decades ago, a spiritual scientist intentionally and temporarily killed himself so he could try to explore the afterlife. When his colleagues brought him back, he claimed that he saw Hell. According to him, it's the typical place you might expect, lots of fire, lots of dark mood lighting, not exactly Chuck. E. Cheese. On top of that, he described different types of Demons, dark denizens that he hid from. One of these types he called 'Rhymers', because, no guesswork there, all of them spoke in rhyme. Guess they're no relation to me."

    A wry joke, delivered in a dry deadpan. Hellboy sat there in shorts and shirt, his coat off and bundled up beside him, serving as a cushion for that big stone hand of his. He didn't want to damage the interior too much. He also tried to ignore what a tight squeeze it was, back here. Maybe next time they could spring for a schoolbus or something, at the rate they were picking up members.

    "Well there have been reports since the dark ages of demons, most of them turned out to be bunk. But every so often, there are reports that can't be written off so easily. Recently there have been reports of strange happenings, at the place we're going. Might be nothing, but some witnesses report that they've heard someone talking to themselves...talking in rhyme. Whether it's something big, or whether we just spent an afternoon driving around, well who's to say. But I've got a feeling about this one."

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Blood can't resist a little bit of atmosphere. He has a taste for the dramatic. 1500 years of life, you start to get bored and you have to entertain yourself.

"I thought my ears were burning. Come in. You have me curious," says a cultured British voice, audible in the car as if he were sitting in the back seat.

So, as they approach the house, the door opens of its own accord. Candles ignite in the shadowed interior, marking a trail up the spiral staircase leading up to his lounge on the third floor.

Throughout the house, there are glimpses of the uncanny. Paintings depicting Hell with a bit too much realism, almost like photographs. Leering Japanese masks with distorted features and devil horns. A chair that appears to be crafted of human bone, rocking slightly of its own accord.

All leading to a simple den, the walls lined with books, the curtains pulled. Jason sits in a large green velvet chair, an antique, his red-brown hair swept back with his trademark streak of white slashing back from his brow. He's dressed in shirtsleeves and trousers and long black boots.

"Devil and warrior and mystery man. How can I be of service?"

Derek Khanata has posed:
The Wakandan steps forward confidently, a tight, wry smile as he reaches out to shake Blood's hand.

"Derek Khanata, Agent of SHIELD. These are my associates, Hellboy, BPRD, and Ash Williams, professional monster hunter. It's a pleasure."

In the flickering candlelight, Khanata cuts a sinister figure--tall, dark-skinned, gaunt, his face marred by extensive ritual scarring.

"From what little I know, Mister Blood, you've earned yourself quite the reputation as a spellman. They say you're the real deal."

Ash Williams has posed:
"Not the first Hellspawn I've had to deal with." Ash comments dismissively, "Or even the tenth demon. Long as he plays nice, we're not gonna have a problem. There was this one demon, seemed like a real nerd, Elicos, who tried to mess up my upstairs. Not a great memory." And then there's a voice in the car that doesn't belong to any of them, and Ash nearly puts his neck out as he turns to check they don't have more company. "Jesus Christ man, clear your throat or something next time1 Ash doesn't like disembodied voices!"

The walk through the house isn't much less unpleasant, but it's not unfamiliar to Ash. He's seen too many different hells to be terrified by just one interpretation, and he's assured enough that he doesn't hold his shotgun or start his chainsaw yet. Instead he stands, hand-and-chainsaw crossed over his impressive bulge.

A boydle can only do so much.

Hellboy has posed:
    He heard the voice and though he didn't move, behind him his tail switched suddenly and violently, against the car seat next to him. Wizards and witches and warlocks, they were on a whole different playing field than the rest of the 'regular' folk, and Hellboy couldn't help but think of Rasputin, and the damage that man managed to cause. This other guy, 'Blood', seemed to be more civil, but how trustworthy was that?

    The question went unanswered in his head, as inside the home, he looked around the place. His hooves loud against the wooden floors, less so against any carpeting that may have been up here. He made no effort to take a seat, his hooves meant he could stand all day. And, in fact, tended to be more comfortable when upright.

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Jason Blood smiles, "'What little you know'. I suspect that to be very little indeed, to simply drive up to my door. Foolhardy, but bold. Luckily, you find me in a generous mood," he says.

He opens a silver case, drawing out a hand-rolled cigarette and lighting it with a match struck against the stone gargoyle sitting on his side table, a worn streak scraped along the jawline. The thing is grotesque, with a gaping maw and ruby-crafted eyes. He bought it for its resemblance to Etrigan. He rather enjoys striking a match on a simulacrum of the demon's face.

He measures Ash and Hellboy alike, watching them with a certain amount of bemusement. "So what are you exactly? A travelling circus? A band of heroes, thrown together by circumstance, chained to a quest not of your own devising? Or are you simply freakish friends in need of a bit of spellcraft?"

Derek Khanata has posed:
"Circumstance has nothing to do with it, Mr. Blood. We're here to save the world," Khanata draws a cigarette from his jacket pocket, lighting it on a nearby candle. He puffs a couple times, making sure it is fully lit.

"But I wouldn't call us heroes--monsters, more like."

The Wakandan leans against an antique dresser with a dusty mirror inset. In the shadows, one could imagine another figure standing behind Khanata in the reflection, but he takes no notice. "Here's the short version: sleepwalker plague's caused by a biological alien computer being shifted into the Astral Realm. A powerful psychic entity, the Shadow King, tapped into this astra-biological network to create the plague as a means to enslave humanity. There's one team of psychics, sorcerers, and scientists coming together to banish this Shadow King to another dimension--we're talking world-class talent."

A dry chuckle. "I understand that you're a formidable enough hoodoo man to be on this 'Squadron Sorcery', but I'm afraid that your reputation is an issue; Doctors Strange and Richards have an image to uphold."

The SHIELD agent picks up a decanter from the dresser, sniffs, makes a face and replaces the cap. "The Howling Commandos here, on the other hand, could give a damn, long as you can get the job done. While the Squadron's bottling SK, we're putting down in Central Mexico to dismantle the 'server' that's keeping the whole sleepwalker operation afloat. We're expecting unknown, possibly heavy resistance with little intelligence going in and the fate of the world on the line. You'll have to dismantle a powerful piece of astral architecture that's of alien origin, operating with almost no intelligence."

The African rubs the back of his head, brow furrowed. "Hmm. It's a tough job, no doubt. If you can't hack it, I'll understand. I'm sure Strange or Constantine could step in, if need be."

Ash Williams has posed:
"I'm just a guy who's pretty good at hunting down and sending Evil back to whatever hell it came from." Ash gives himself an introduction that might be flattering. It's hard to tell. "Love what you've done with the place. Really screams 'I'm comfortable in my own skin.'" A chuckle follows, and Ash stands down while he waits for the slightly more experience commandos to do their own things.

And then there's a chance to step in again, and Ash is characteristically blunt. "Short version is that we're a bunch of screw-ups that are used to long odds and getting crap done in the field, and having a beer and steak to celebrate when we're done - And we're saving the world again. You want in?"

Hellboy has posed:
    His coat left in the car, Hellboy was studying the portraits, the masks, the decorations intently. If there were books, he'd read the spines, maybe take out a few interesting ones and thumb through, but otherwise was quiet and let Derek talk. Then Ash pitched in, and the big red man silently nodded in approval. HB liked Ash, the old guy was crafty, and smarter than he let on.

    "Yeah, what these guys said. And another thing, I think I'd ease off on the threats. You're a tough guy, there's no doubt about it. But we deal with tough guys all the time."

    His eyes shone with that yellow glow they always had, and he was staring Jason right in the face the whole time. He had that same dull expression on his face, but every so often his tail twitched. And as if to add further emphasis, the open book his was holding in his left hand, he suddenly snapped shut. Loudly.

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Jason Blood smiles thinly at Hellboy's remarks, "No threats. Simply speaking truth. I am not always so very agreeable," he says.

Khanata gets a shrewd look, "Yes, forbid they sully their fingers getting their reputations tainted by mine," he chuckles. "You certainly seem to have a very thorough plan. I'm not the type to be a cog in someone else's machine, necessarily, but some of what you describe sounds...intriguing. Astral architecture is one of my hobbies," he says.

"Of course, that's provided I'm available. My time isn't entirely my own. You might have to negotiate a bit with my...partner."

Ash Williams has posed:
"Hey, let's just clear the air and assume we all think we can kick eachother's asses." Ash states simply, before he looks back down the hallway they just came from. "Listen buddy, whether you got time or not ain't really something you get to throw about when the fate of the world hangs in the balance - 'Cos like most of us you're kind of living in it. That being said, I've gotta go bleed the lizard. Tell me you've got a john somewhere around here." And with that, he makes his way back through the house. Since there's outside if he needs it.

Derek Khanata has posed:
"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Blood. You've proven quite good at covering your tracks."

The Agent of SHIELD exhales a cloud of smoke into the dusty air as the monster hunter descends the atmospherically-creaking staircase.

"Our files didn't mention anything about you having a partner. Perhaps you'd care to illuminate us?"

Hellboy has posed:
    "Yeah, we're all ears."

    Hellboy spoke idly as he watched Ash leave. HB knew that guy would be fine, that was a guy who'd walked his own path for years. For his part, Hellboy was still watching Jason intently, studying the man and refusing to take his eyes off of him.

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Jason Blood flicks his tongue against his teeth, "Partner, archnemesis, brother, foe - we aren't always particularly on the best of terms but we are something of what they call a 'package deal'. I can introduce you, but I cannot guarantee his demeanor or his manners. You have, after all, taken me a bit by surprise and he can be a...whimsical individual."

"But if you want my help, then you'd best meet him, lest he decide to make snacks of the lot of you just to spite me," he says. He pushes up from his chair and stalks over to the window, leaning his face into the curtains. He hates this part. He mutters softly, although those with keen ears might hear the rhyme.

"Gone, gone, O form of man...
...Rise the Demon, Etrigan!"

Blood's form quite simply bursts into flame, a towering inferno that seems to rise from his skeleton, his bones themselves melting through the skin and flesh of him. There's a harsh scent in the air as a shadow grows in the center of that fire, straining, and tearing at the confines of the meat that held it prisoner.

Etrigan the Demon emerges with yellow-scaled skin, of a height with the Hellboy, with broad shoulders, muscles limbs, heavy claws. A blue cloak wraps around him and crimson chainmail clings to his torso. His face is framed by thick flaps of reptilian flesh, his snout curling as his eyes burn like embers, turning on the strangers.

"Friends of Blood, I would assume
To wait so boldly in the room
Speak your piece then if you can
And meet the mighty Etrigan."

Hellboy has posed:
    The other Demon in the room nudges Derek with his left hand, before muttering. "Rhyming, see that? What did I tell you?"

Derek Khanata has posed:
Khanata's cigarette tip bursts into flame as the inferno strikes. His face is a stony mask, any expression hidden by the mirror shades, but he does not remove the cigarette from his lips for until several seconds after Etrigan has emerged from Blood's smoking bowels. He stubs out the impromptu torch calmly and methodically, taking great care in doing so, and afterwards stares at the ashtray for a long moment, motionless and completely silent..

Hellboy's nudge seems to wake Khanata from his reverie, and he cracks a weak grin, "Hopefully we're not expected to respond in kind."

The Wakandan clears his throat, straightens his jacket, and extends a hand, "Derek Khanata, agent of SHIELD. I've recently come to understand that you and Blood have a, ah, working relationship. We're here to discuss a proposal with your partner and he wished your input on the matter."

Hellboy has posed:
    For his part, Hellboy watched the whole thing in stride, his eyes narrowing as he stepped up to the hulking, scaled and armored form. He paid close attention to the name, 'Etrigan'. Now in all likelihood, that wasn't his 'true' name. After all, in Hell as well as in most other places, names carried power. No, this was just what he went by.

    But it was still good to remember.

    Hellboy lifted up his hands in a mock shrug, his big right stone one now a bit closer to Etrigan as the big red man spoke.

    "Yeah, nice cape. My name's Hellboy. I'm here to back up my pal here, and to make sure you play nice. Or you could try to be a tough guy, and end up eating a stone knuckle sandwich or three until we sate that appetite. So I suggest you mind your P's and Q's, you got that Dr. Seuss?"

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Etrigan's smile only widens at Hellboy's warning, his head cocking at a sixty degree angle. His body is slightly hunched forward, thick neck contorted atop the meaty mass of his body.

"A devil pet you have I see.
Unbound and wild, how could it be?
I envy you your lack of reins
To roam the world and dish out pains."

He turns his baleful eyes to Khanata, looking at the outstretched hand

"Finger food I always crave
And for the last the pinky save
I do nothing that is kind
Tis against mys tate of mind.
If you have a cunning plan
Share it now with Etrigan."

Derek Khanata has posed:
"Ah, of course."

Khanata retracts his hand smoothly, unruffled, moving to pat Hellboy on the arm reassuringly, "Steady on, Red."

"Now, Etrigan, we had initially approached Blood as an expert in occult matters, and were seeking his aid in collapsing a nasty bit of astral architecture in Central Mexico as part of a larger operation."

The agent clears his throat, "But we were unaware of your arrangement, which complicates matters. I need to know that, when the rubber hits the road, I can count on Blood's mystical expertise to get the job done and," he pauses, frowning, "I imagine there's going to be the matter of compensation. I take it you care little for the fate of our world?"

Hellboy has posed:
    "Fate of the world, innocent lives, guy like this? I doubt it. You haven't dealt with guys like these the way I have. They're only interested in themselves, and furthering their own demented interests."

    He spoke, looking at Derek's hand on his shoulder, and knowing that he was supposed to be easing back a little. But he wanted to make things clear to the one called Etrigan, so he stepped up closer, until they were practically breathing the same air. Until Etrigan was easily able to smell the cigarette smoke and gunpowder, and Hellboy was able to smell...whatever it was that Etrigan reeked of.

    "Let's make something very clear, scaley. I'm nobody's 'pet', but I can sure as hell teach you a few tricks, like 'roll over' and 'play dead'. Out of respect for my colleague, I'm not sending you to the moon, but if you try and cheat us, or do any of your little demon word tricks, I won't hesitate. You got that, Alice?"

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Sulphur, mostly, and a bit of agony. Agony's a smell, although mostly only demons know that. They're attuned to it, the subtle reek of pain extended to a realm beyond the physical. The wounding of the soul itself. Such true brutality clings and Etrigan wears it around him wrapped tight as his cloak. He flicks a long, snakelike tongue across his fangs as his grin widens to inhuman proportions, the hot kiss of hellfire steaming out of him into Hellboy's face.

"Come for a king, you'd best not miss.
Maybe you want a little kiss?
I know your kind, I fear you not.
Some overgrown fat demon's squat
Left behind for man to love
And nurture like a turtle dove
Cut your horns and drown your fire
You still contain the devil's ire
In time I know you will come back
To nurse at Hell's lactating rack.
But for now, let's be at peace
Both wolves that wear the sheep's warm fleece
You'll scare the mortals and we'll be done
And that would darn sure spoil the fun."

He draws back a bit and gives a little laugh, turning his attention to Khanata, The tattered cloak around him seems to move in an unseen wind, wrapping around his cement-block shoulders as the dim light through the curtains backlights the Demon.

On the contrary, my friend
I care so much about your end
But eternal demon always waits
Til the right time reaps your fates
I'll abide by Blood's black word
If this warning you have heard
Cross you Etrigan in vain
And then we shall true meet again
Boy of Hell with fist of stone
Chainsaw fool, man cursed alone
I'll tear you each to little bits
Till all ye squeal in spastic fits
Armageddon I'll prevent
Til Satan has the order sent.
But mistake it not for mercy's call
I hate ye all, Blood most of all.

Hellboy has posed:
    "You won't have to worry about word breaking on our end, pal. We're not the guys who do that sort of thing."

    Hellboy was stood at Etrigan's side, and Derek would see that Red's left hand was now resting on the handle of his quadshooter, clearly waiting for a reason to use it. But he was staying his hand, even if his big right stone weapon was clenching and unclenching a fist, fingers stretching eagerly.

    "It's your call, DK. Do you wanna work with Pantsless, here? Do you trust him any farther than you can throw him?"

Derek Khanata has posed:
"Well, that's convenient," The SHIELD agent reaches into his coat to produce a steel flask. He tilts his head back and takes a long pull, "because we're up to our ears in armageddons, so it's steady work."

Khanata offers the flask to Hellboy, "I've worked with worse, and if he goes off the reservation I've the right clean-up crew on hand. I say we give him a shot, enemy of my enemy and all that."

He turns towards Etrigan, "Just try not to provoke Hellboy here. I cannot guarantee your safety otherwise. That and," he smirks, "try to keep the 'chainsaw fool' quips low-key. I don't need friendly fire when we're in the field."

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Etrigan flicks one of his winglike ears, a growl at the back of his throat that is, if anything, playful but likely still sets mortal nerves on edge.

"I cannot help my lack of pants
Your maiden doth swift need my lance
I'll stuff your darling love sweet true
With thirty ounce of demon goo
To use the whore as my own sleeve
Is more that you'll ever achieve
Now calm your tits and cool your jets
Lest niceties you would arrest.

Etrigan, though, is the one who steps away, walking over and pushing open the curtains and opening the window to let in the first kiss of fall air. He hops up and squats in the window, looking out at the world.

"If all your soldiers are so soft
That words alone make rage aloft
I fear the chances are but slim
For saving worlds at times gone dim.
But remember I shall try to do
The tender feelings of your crew
Soft and soft again I'll speak
While vilest havoc I shall wreak
And if at end he still feels sore
Just knock upon this Devil's door
I'll rip your spine out through your guts
And serve it up to all my sluts
Roasted rare and pierced with sticks
To roast upon your burning pricks
But aye I must now curb my tongue
Or Hellboy here will have me hung
So rude am I, so cruel indeed
To tease and play with demon seed
I cannot help myself you know
The demon in me has to blow
But who knows, boy, what happpens next
We'll work our magic, do our best
And at the end you never know
Bosom pals we might be though."

Derek Khanata has posed:
Derek Khanata stares blankly for several seconds following the infernal soliloquy, overcome by Etrigan's verbiage. Finally, however, he laughs, loud and open-mouthed, disturbing a clan of bats in the belfry which burst into the night, their silhouettes picturesquely framed behind the demon crouched on the windowsill.

"Point well taken. I hope your master doesn't come calling too soon, Etrigan; I may regret seeing you die."

The SHIELD agent leans over to Hellboy and whispers, "We're getting this guy on YouTube; he is born for battle raps. You think he'll write us a theme song?"

Hellboy has posed:
    Moments of silence, before Hellboy turns to regard Derek directly. When he spoke, his eyes were almost flashing with a rare emotion. It wasn't a good one.

    "He can write whatever he wants. I hope you're sure about this, Derek. I really hope you know what you're doing."

    With that he was gone, shoulder checking the burly other Demon in the room if he could, and slamming the door with that big stone hand of his. Hopefully that caused a mask to fall. He didn't fully leave until he knew Derek was also leaving, but he stood in the other room, lighting up a smoke. And ready to leave, soon as he was able.

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
As Hellboy departs, he'll just hear Etrigan's laughter echoing down the staircase as the Rhymer bows and extends a hand for Derek to depart with his compatriots.

"Blood's business card is down the stairs
With numbers for worldly affairs
Call upon him as you will
When your enemy has blood to spill
But for now, please leave me be
Tis rare a night he lets me free
And tonight the streets I'll surely roam
In search of merriments like home
I cannot fill comfort in my skin
Lest I round myself with sin
So don't come running, hero or not
When screams arise from all this lot
When I am not under your thumb
I'll as please and sweetly hum
A demon's tune, played strict with skin
The better catch the sad souls in
Like Santa, though, I'll be gone
By the first light of the dawn
Then Blood shall be back for now
To smile at you with eyes of cow
But don't be fooled now, don't be trick'ed
If you think I'm bad, he's far more wicked."

The door sweeps open and Derek and the others will be allowed to get out, Etrigan waiting until they've left the premises before he shuts the doors and flies off into the night to pursue his own mischiefs and misdeeds.