5551/The Demon You Know

The Demon You Know
Date of Scene:	13 October 2018
Location:	The Bon Viveur
Synopsis:	Jason Blood introduces Jeannette to Derek Khanata and Hellboy.
Cast of Characters:	Etrigan (Jason Blood), Jeannette, Derek Khanata, Hellboy
Tinyplot:	Astral Flux

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Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Rather than taking them directly to Nocturne, Jeannette's home, Blood decided to have a meeting between his old friend Jeannette and this makeshift crew of Khanata's in more neutral confines. So he's rented a penthouse at a nearby hotel in Bludhaven, not as luxurious as hers but somehow even more sleazy. It is Bludhaven after all. Rumors are that the place is haunted. It was certainly old-fashioned, looking almost more like a castle than a modern hotel. It does have wifi, though.

Jeannette he invited earlier, the two of them sharing wine and reminiscences before the arrival of Khanata. Blood is dressed casually for him, no tie and the sleeves rolled up on his white linen shirt beneath a crimson vest. The spirits at his beck and call in the hallway alert him to an approaching presence.

"I do believe we're about to have that company. Try not to frighten them too badly, they can be a little skittish and Etrigan already put the fear of Hell into them. Not that they shouldn't be afraid. But I think they might be useful and I'd rather keep them at my back than as my foes."

Jeannette has posed:
    Jeannette's been to filthier and sleazier places, though rarely by choice -- she prefers the lavish luxury afforded by her casino and its private rooms set designed for her personal use. But, where Blood now (presumably) hangs his hat -- this Bon Viveur -- is a step up from other places he's lived, in the past, so she's content to sit pretty in the armchair across a small table from him, sipping cognac as they catch up.

    Jeannette is dressed chicly in (http://goo.gl/j8xN4K) a fitted black plunge-necked jumpsuit with belted sash and kimono sleeves. Her brilliantly white hair is (http://goo.gl/eo5KfK) swept up severely all around the sides and back, rolled into an intricate, retro pompadour on the crown of her head, and her make-up is classically beautiful, with her pale skin, single beauty mark, expertly lined eyes, and rich red lipstick.

    She exhales as Jason gives her yet another warning, her icy silver eyes rolling a little. "Darling, am I really /that/ terrifying? I *am* skilled in the courtly graces, after all. If they're uncomfortable around me, it'll hardly be due to anything I can control, as well you know," she says in her rich, elegant way. Over the centuries, her accent has become an interesting thing--Hungarian by birth, French for a while, and it became a unique blend after living in so many places for so long. Now, she's cultivated a rich, mid-Atlantic accent that suits for the idle rich in America. Well, in her opinion, anyway. "Go on, now. Invite them in," she waves a hand floridly.

Derek Khanata has posed:
A tall, ebon-skinned African in a modern, fitted navy suit, thin black tie, and polished black leather shoes strides into the Bon Viveur, a decaying heap of the nouveau-riche decadence of the gay nineties. His face is set in a stony grimace as he rides up the old-fashioned elevator while a sallow, pimpled young man in a faded antique uniform shifts uncomfortably behind him, attempting to covertly stare at the extensive ritual scarification on the African's cheeks and brow.

When the elevator comes to a stop with a jolt, the dark, gaunt figure shifts the bottle tucked under his left arm and withdraws a pair of sunglasses from his coat pocket, donning them as he approaches the penthouse door.

Pausing at the threshold he exhales, adjusts his tie, and twists his face into a smirk. Finally, he knocks, three short raps.

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Blood can't help but grin a bit, "I'm aware of the court in which you learned your graces, so it never hurts to be careful," he says. "Don't get me wrong, I don't wish to make them too comfortable. They should be on edge, a little bit. Fear is a form of respect and we both deserve respect," he says.

He opens the door promptly, stepping aside, "Welcome. Would you care to order anything from room service? There's a dumbwaiter leading directly to the kitchen, so anything you order will be quite fresh. They make an excellent filet mignon," he says.

"Since I anticipate we will need all the help we can get with the problem in Mexico, I thought I'd introduce you to an old friend of mine. This is Jeannette."

Jeannette has posed:
    Jeannette remains seated as Jason goes for the door and opens it, inviting the man into the room and dispensing with cordialities. When he introduces her, her brow crinkles slightly as she playfully grimaces. "Oh, Jason, really. What have we discussed about calling me 'old'?" she tuts at him, though she says it with a hint of a smile.

    To Derek, however, she turns her cool gaze with a brow arched in curiosity, "My, but it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr..." she trails off with an inquisitive lilt to her voice, offering her hand to him--not to shake, but to kiss at the knuckles, as is polite and proper...to her mind.

    Her eyes lid heavily as she breathes in deeply, taking in the decadent scent of death and suffering that emanate from Derek like a fine cologne. "Goodness," she exhales with relish. "But, you have suffered and brought suffering," she says thickly, as though somewhat drunk on the idea. "So much death..." her pristine, even white teeth flash as she hisses the end of that word...her lips drawn back as though she were somewhat feral, though it's not wholly unattractive.

Derek Khanata has posed:
"Khanata."

A whimsical smirk on his face, he accepts Jeannette's proffered hand and gives it a peck, though with no small amount of irony on his face.

The African pauses, an unintentional grimace at the inhuman hiss of his hostess, but it passes within a moment. He cracks a tight, wry grin and says simply, "All part of the job, ma'am."

Khanata turns, placing the bottle on a dining table set with an old-fashioned, heavy burgandy tablecloth. He looks to Blood, "I appreciate the hospitality, Blood. You did great out there yesterday. Now, I've brought a bottle of Glenlivet 18, if any of you would care for some scotch."

Hellboy has posed:
    The Haunted Mansion was once a popular tourist location a few years ago, and it still did alright business. But Hellboy remembered when this place looked different. The walls and floorboards, the sounds of whispering and manic screaming heard only through the pipes and the plumbing. Some places were haunted by ghosts, but some places became such a haven for the other side, that anything short of consecrating the places or tearing it down would do no good. And HB could never sign off on something like that, an old place with character like this.

    He told the man in the elevator that he'd put out his smoke immediately, but 'immediately' was an interesting word. Well maybe it wasn't, but Big Red was sure as hell gonna make it interesting, as he exhaled a plume of smoke into the dusty room. He let himself in after Derek stepped inside, dressed plainly in a tight black shirt, black shorts and his typical belt. Revolver right there, just in case any of these two stepped out of line. The coat was left in the ride, he didn't really need it in this weather.

    "Yeah, wine, that's great. I'm sure that's great stuff."

    For his part, Hellboy had a full six-pack of cheaper better stuff, his tail lifting the cold ones behind him so that he could focus on holding his smoke. Sometimes it could be a godsend.

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Blood steps aside as the introductions are made. He opens a set of doors leading out to the balcony, the cool kiss of autumn bringing a brisk wind. If there is a smell of decay, of something foul, well, that's just as well. Bludhaven is a dark place.

"I imagine most of us have blood on our hands. Jeannette just has a keener nose for such things than most," he says. "And worry not, Jeannette, you're still a young spring lass to me, same as when we first met in Paris. The Revolution was such a pleasant place for those with a taste for mayhem," he says.

He eyes Hellboy's beer with a raised eyebrow, but doesn't say anything about it. Plebes will be plebes.

Jeannette has posed:
    Jeannette smiles indulgently at Jason as he makes his amends to her, soothing her sizeable ego. And, the smile deepens as he mentions Paris. "Ah, those were golden years. Thankfully, I have lived long enough to experience quite a number of such years, in different places, different eras..." she muses wistfully, letting her gaze travel over the hulking form of Hellboy, who has neither introduced himself, nor looked to be properly introduced to her. "Aren't you a brute," she murmurs with amusement, her glittering, pale eyes narrowed mildly, taking in the sight of him cracking open his own drink of choice. It's not a question, nor really a comment to which she is seeking reply-- more of an observation.

    To Derek's question, she smiles once more. "Oh, I do enjoy a good scotch. If you don't mind," she gestures to the empty tumblers that are arranged nearby. "I don't mind mixing my spirits with liquor. I don't suffer the ill effects," she says, draining the last of her cognac from her wine goblet, placing it on the table, once more. She crosses her legs elegantly and bounces a foot idly, just gazing and observing the large red man. "Jason..." she says, resting her chin in her hand, "Is it possible he was raised in the wild?" she asks in a mildly interested tone, not freeing him from her penetrating examination.

Derek Khanata has posed:
The African combs through the kitchen cabinets and produces four tumblers. As the conversation drifts to the Revolution Khanata cocks his head, pausing momentarily to listen with interest, but doesn't comment. There's a wisp of a smile on his face as he produces a scarlet handkerchief and dusts the chipped crystal rocks glasses.

"How many fingers?" he asks the room.

As the drinks are poured, Khanata's face tightens at the reference to Hellboy as a 'brute' and he clears his throat at the open speculation, "My partner here is named, simply, Hellboy, although," a smirk passes his lips, "I prefer the moniker 'Big Red'. Whatever his origins, he's proven his worth a hundred times over."

With that, Khanata passes a tumbler filled to the brim to Hellboy, "Drink this before you make your introductions, big guy."

Hellboy has posed:
    The tumbler was tumbled, and the booze was down the hatch. It was soon tossed aside casually, as Hellboy spoke while his eyes were on both Jason and Jeanette. Studying his face was a fruitless endeavor, in trying to gauge expression that just wasn't there. But Banshee wasn't reading facial expressions, was she? She could smell murderers. And Hellboy...wasn't one. He was a killer, but not a murderer. Did it matter, whether one slayed monsters, trolls, demonds and non-humans? Did something like that register on her 'scale'? If so then he'd stink to high heaven of whole closets full of corpses.

    If it was only the death of humans that sparked her senses, then he'd be clean. Almost disgustingly clean. It's true he'd pummeled more than a few Nazis, cultists, Hydra Agents, mind controlled goons and so on and so forth. But he'd never snuffed anyone's candle, so to speak.

    Hellboy wasn't paying attention to any of this, though, he just pointed over at Derek when the man introduced him, before speaking himself with that low, smooth voice of his.

    "Yeah, think of me as the bouncer. You start playing too rough, and out you go on the sidewalk."

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Jason Blood tsks and shakes his head, retrieving a glass for himself, "No need to be hostile, Redrum. We're all...okay, we're not friends, but we can be of use to one another, at the very least," he says.

"Derek's brought me in to consult about a rather nasty problem we seem to be having. Some sort of terrible corruption, apocalyptic evil, blah blah blah. You know the routine, Jeannette. And I know, I'm not in the compassion business myself, but I do like the planet as it is currently and I'd rather not be having some giant mushroom from Saturn cropping up south of the border and trashing the place. Since I know that Rusty here," he says, gesturing towards Hellboy, "Isn't my biggest fan, I thought I might need a little backup that felt more comfortable with me at their back. Hence this little tete a tete."

Jeannette has posed:
    "I'd *love* to see you /try,/ big boy," comes Jeannette's bemused response. "Besides, you have an interesting cologne. Lots of different notes," she adds. "I wouldn't mind smelling it a bit deeper, up close and personal," she smiles wickedly, licking the point of one of her canines. But, Jason is already working to soothe any ruffled feathers, trying to re-establish the status quo so discussing the matters at hand can be done without further drama.

    She accepts her glass from Derek and smiles warmly to him, batting her lashes a few times, "Why, thank you, Mr. Khanata. Two fingers-- just right." She brings the tumbler to her lips and sips deeply of the fine scotch. "A fine scotch, indeed. Its quality and your thoughtfulness is appreciated. Now... I'm intrigued. What's the score? What is it you'd like my assistance with, and what sort of details are you willing to share?" she asks, redirecting her attention.

Derek Khanata has posed:
Khanata smiles apologetically at Hellboy's self-introduction, "Don't let his bluster fool you, Jeannette. Big Red's salt of the earth, no doubt, but he's canny and has decades of experience in this business. He's simply wise enough to stay frosty and tight-lipped when dealing with as, ah, diverse a crew as we've assembled."

The African strolls casually across the penthouse floor, nodding to Blood quietly as he passes out the drinks. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage--Blood was rather vague in his description," he winks conspiratorially at the occultist, "beyond a bit of florid poetry. So I am in the dark as to the nature of your... abilities, for a lack of a better word."

"As far as the threat we face," the African moves next to Blood, passing his drink and pausing to look out in the night sky, "it's frankly a fairly complex situation. I'll try to summarize as best I can."

"The fungal invasion that threatened the planet a few months ago was supposedly 'defeated' by the Justice League and the Avengers, but as usual, they left a mess behind."

He leans against the table and sips his scotch.

"The fungus was an alien biocomputer that had taken root in Central Mexico, carving out massive underground fungal caverns. The billionaire boys' club whipped up some sort of deadly acid with which to destroy it and wrecked the town above in the process, leaving a toxic waste dump of rotting, festering alien spores."

"Turns out it wasn't as dead as they believed. A large mass of the fungus had been transferred to the Astral Plane by a powerful disembodied psychic Amahl Farouk, aka the Shadow King, who has in his possession a powerful cosmic artifact known as the 'Mind Gem', giving him supposedly unlimited psychic power."

He draws a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket, lights one.

"The fungal biocomputer acts as a network hub for all of the minds Farouk has touched, creating the 'sleepwalker plague' that's been all over the news for the last month. Turns out that hub runs off a 'server'--the still-beating heart of the fungal computer in Mexico. That's what we're going to take out."

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Jason Blood raises an eyebrow, "Salt in some kinds of earth can be poisonous, Khanata. But your point is taken. Hellboy is a noble creature, unused to the company of the degenerate. Strange times and strange bedfellows, I'm afraid."

Blood listens closely. He hadn't gotten such a full summary himself, so it's good to hear it all laid out in definitive terms, even if some of the information is disturbing, "Farouk isn't unknown to me, although he was largely a boogeyman to be found around Egypt in the latter half of last century. A nasty fellow, by all accounts, in flesh and spirit."

"I don't particularly care for the computing metaphor - I find such post-modernism distasteful - but I get the gist of the thing. Another case of trying to kill something that refuses to die."

Jeannette has posed:
    "What I do..." Jeannette says softly, looking contemplative. "I realize Jason's way of communicating is a bit more cultured than you're perhaps used to hearing, poetic and sometimes leaning toward the purple... However, what I *do* is hard to define, considering the fact that I'm so damnably flexible," she smiles archly. "To cover the basics," she begins ticking them off on her well-manicured fingers, "I'm very strong, very fast, very durable... I'm damned near impossible to kill. And, I have a few other things that I employ, when appropriate. Let's just say that...howling...is one of them, though not at all lupine, and more...lethal to hear."

    Jeannette's eyes narrow with concentration as she attempts to take in what's being explained. It really does sound like gibberish to her. "Of course, I've heard the news, but they only ever deal out information in snappy sound bites that don't really inform so much as titillate the baser nature of the human race. So, this is news to me. I don't tend to run in the same circles as the Avengers, but it does /not/ surprise me to find they've made an even bigger mess when they boastfully claim they've saved the day," she drawls, sipping her scotch once more.

Derek Khanata has posed:
Khanata nods, eyes narrowing in concentration as he considers Jeannette's overview of her powers.

"Hmm. Sounds like you'll be perfect for crowd control, then. Assuming my intuition is correct," he smirks, "your powers are 'spiritual' in nature. Does that come with any of the associated tricks: invisibility, intangibility, flight?"

"As far as my terminology, Blood," a nod and wry smile, "I do not speak metaphorically. My understanding is that the fungus was, in fact, a self-replicating biological computer network, accessible via telepathy, whose origin, beyond 'from space', is still unknown to SHIELD. I suspect it was a bioweapon intended to terraform the planet and provide processing power for an advanced, as-yet unknown civilization. With Farouk's interference, it somehow now exists in the Astral Plane, and seems to function in a similar manner. It may be outside of the traditional nomenclature associated with your work, Mister Blood, but the Infinity Stones can shatter all boundaries of the possible."

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Jason Blood gives a thin semblance of a smile. "Hence the Infinity, one presumes. I'm not pleased at the idea of these creatures from beyond space invading our territory. We have enough disruptions from the other planes as it is without throwing in outer space for the bargain," he says.

"Jeannette is quite formidable - and is likely one of the few creatures that Etrigan won't destroy just to amuse himself if he begins to feel a bit...roguish. She has had dealings with the Demon, from time to time. He responds well to a familiar face."

Jeannette has posed:
    "If necessary, I can fly, yes. I wouldn't call them spiritual, in nature, but they are of the spirit, after a fashion, I suppose. I'm something of myth and legend given life. While there may yet be more of which I'm capable, invisibility and intangibility are not talents in my possession, at this point," Jeannette replies, smiling faintly. "That said, I have fared well enough without them for a good many years."

    As Derek speaks to Jason about the biological nightmare, she speaks up and shakes her head, "Oh, now, Mr. Khanata. Don't speak down to Jason Blood. His language is that of magic, and what you speak of is the filth of alien technology. It's rank and vile, to be certain. And, its description, how it functions, is baffling to my mind, as well. It seems to be altogether unwanted, though, and that's reason enough for me."

    She finishes off her two fingers of scotch and places the tumbler down, listening to Jason speak. "Many a poem of admiration has Etrigan spake for me," she says with an amused smile, making her little joke. "I won't mind hearing it, again, if it comes to that," she seems wholly unconcerned. "So, how is it we can begin to eradicate this fungus from our precious planet?"

Derek Khanata has posed:
The African nods gravely to Blood, "Nor am I. Frankly, the thought of our planet's biomass being reduced to an industrial cog for some cosmic infrastructure, which we view only dimly, is far more frightening than the hells that you can conjure."

He bows slightly to Jeannette in response to her reprimand. "I meant no insult. We all operate within our own paradigms, which can be a fatal weakness when dealing with powers that can rewrite foundational laws on a whim."

"And if you've got the demon's ear, Jeannette, keep him from stepping too far out of bounds while on mission. We've got a number of 'heroes' among those assembled, and I fear they might follow their nature should Etrigan prove too depraved."

"As I previously mentioned, in Mexico there is the 'server', which we believe to be the still-living heart of the fungus and likely the dimensional interface between its Astral self and physical remains. Our task is to eliminate that are hopefully, in so doing, disrupt the sleepwalker plague."

"It is, of course, heavily defended. How do you feel your chances would be against an attack helicopter?"

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Jason Blood lights a cigarette, blowing the plume of smoke out through the open window. "Etrigan, depraved? My dear Khanata...you have no earthly idea."

"But I know enough to know he's no more welcoming to these fungal invaders to the rest. He never needs much persuasion to destroy things. You just have to make sure you have a more entertaining target than yourself," he says.

"And yes, he's passing fond of you, Jeannette. Perhaps too much so for your good."

"I will try and do a bit more research. There has to be some sort of lore on these things or, at least, something like them. I recall a few passages of the Necronomicon about fungi, but they were rather prosaic in phrasing. One can never tell if the Mad Arab wrote truth or fever dream. Sometimes they were one and the same, after all."

Jeannette has posed:
    Jeannette smiles almost fondly at Derek, "My dear boy, you have such lovely manners. It fairly makes my cold, cold hard feel as though it might feel a teasing of warmth. Manners are so sorely neglected, these days." She shakes her head at the state of social interactions of the present. "Downright negligent, all this technological frippery, with a Twitbook and a Snapgram, or whatever it is the children are babbling about," she murmurs in discontent. She points a finger at both men, "It's turning their brains to jelly, I tell you. No good can come of it."

    She exhales, as if thinking about the indignities she's suffering at the hands of brain-dead, zombified children is just too much, and completely unfair. "Yes, dear, I will do what I can with Etrigan. Though, as we all know, what he wants to do is what will be done, once he makes up his mind. So, let's all hope we find a very fun toy for him, a real pickle of a puzzle for him to tear apart, mm?" her smile is thin.

    Nodding to Jason, she pulls out her compact from her tiny little clutch, and touches up her already perfect lips with a creamy red lipstick. She snaps her compact closed and, slipping it and her lipstick back into her clutch, she snaps /that/ closed as well. "All right, darlings. I simply *must* get out of here before the stench of faded opulence clings to me and I'm forced to burn this beautiful Balenciaga jumpsuit. I would be most displeased to do it, but needs must, if it comes to that. So. Unless you've further need of me, or there is more information to be relayed to me, I trust...?" she trails off in a way that's quickly recognized as characteristic to her way of speaking.

    Without waiting for a response, she stands and gathers her clutch under her arm. "Jason, you'll escort me," she says with a smile, patting at her perfect hairdo. She says this. It is a command. Not a request. Turning to Derek, she smiles again, "It *was* good to meet you, Mr. Khanata. We'll speak again, I'm certain." Then, she's walking out the door in a sashay that is likely all too womanly and confident to escape notice. She leaves the door cracked behind her as she walks toward the elevator, planning to enter the car waiting downstairs, as it has been since she arrived at the hotel.

Derek Khanata has posed:
"Oh, I believe I understand your other half perfectly, Mister Blood. It speaks in rhymes, not riddles--its persuasion and intent are clear enough. I simply can't afford its eye to wander while on mission. You understand, I'm sure."

The African smiles tightly and inclines his head, "Just raised well, ma'am. I look forward to seeing your work in Mexico."

Khanata stands back discreetly as Blood and Jeannette speak their parting words, smoking and staring off into the night sky. Once Jeannette has retired, Khanata gestures for Blood to join him on a pair of seats in the living area.

"Regarding your research," he smirks roguishly, "I actually had a few other, more specific, tasks to ask of you."

"You see, once the 'server' is down, there still remains the matter of Farouk and his Mind Gem haunting the Astral. I've mentioned my plan of having him exiled to another plane, but there has been a question of a suitable vessel in which to bind him to."

The African drags from his cigarette, a repressed smile on his lips, "Now, I encountered a witch-boy recently who had an audacious proposal: a Golem. It is already designed to house a soul, and perhaps some Solomonic binding rituals can keep Farouk within long enough to force him through a dimensional portal. I would like to arrange an introduction between you two, have you determine the viability of his plan."

"The boy is quite interesting, if painfully naive. The WAND boys tell me he has theoretically limitless potential and, as far as I can tell, no master to speak of. There is rumor he has a unique lineage as well--the house of Magnus."

Etrigan (Jason Blood) has posed:
Jason Blood flicks his tongue against his teeth, preparing to escort Jeannette as she proposes. He listens to Khanata's words, though, rollin gthe idea in his head. "The provenance of the Golem might matter - holy things, Qaballic or otherwise, have a habit of being picky about their use. If placing the King within the shell would somehow profane it, the result might just be a broken golem and a freed Shadow," he said. "But I can probably come up with a few safeguards to help prevent that. I'll listen to your witch-boy's ideas, anyway."

Derek Khanata has posed:
"If he is the son of the Scarlet Witch and grandson of Magneto, as it is said, his power is undoubtedly great--along with his utility."

Khanata exhales a plume of smoke and taps his cigarette into a broad, circular glass ashtray.

"I think you might find him a unique challenge to tutor. You see, I understand there's an interesting wrinkle to his powerset--his power is directly proportional to his self-esteem. The more encouraging you are, the greater he can access his abilities."

The African shrugs, "Meet him. It may be that your devilish wit is too much for him, but we could use the raw power."

"Now, as to the other matter: before we are able to entrap Farouk, I suspect we must wrest the Mind Gem from him, or all our plans will be for naught. I have an outline of a plan, and I'm hoping you can fill in some of the details."

He absently swirls his drink in the tumbler, watching the ice cubes dance.

"WAND has been able to track the flow of power through the Astral network, which provided us with the location of the server. Presumably, if enough power was required, we would see the 'signature' of the Mind Gem as he accessed its power. This will require someone to 'touch the fence', so to speak, to challenge him with sufficient might to require he draw upon his greatest resources, and a means with which to remove them from the battlefield."

"Once we have a location, we mobilize a team to seize the artifact. Raw power enough will almost certainly prove insufficient, so I believe the best means would be to trick him somehow."

"I had hoped that you were the man to devise such a strategem."