Owner	Pose
Satana Hellstrom	It begins with a scream, a high-pitched male scream cutting through the night, bouncing off the walls of the warehouses, temporarily drowning the noise from an illegal rave. The scream is one of pain, of course, but also horror and, strangely, a hint of regret. (Well, that's how a connoisseur of human misery and suffering would describe it. And Satana is nothing if not such a connoisseur...) When the scream ends, the rave's spill-over fills the alleys with its merry-making for a bit. Then the footsteps can be heard. Heavy footsteps of a burly man running, boots scuffing the pavement as he stumbles, looking back over his shoulder. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh ..." The words flow like a mantra from Dino's lips as he flees in terror, eyes saucer-wide, constantly looking over his shoulders as he runs blindly through the alleys. His hoarse breathing and his mantra almost conceal the sound behind him. The sound of stiletto heels clacking in an unhurried pace on the hard ground of the warehouse district's alleys and byways. Unhurried yet, somehow, always getting closer. Dino runs into a darker alley in the darkness, stopping dead in his tracks as he realizes his mistake. The alley is a cul-de-sac. There's no exit but the way he came in, and that is now filled with... A woman. And what a woman. Dressed in a way that would make all but the most desperate of streetwalkers think she's taking it a bit far, but unlike the coked-out, strung-out people who'd wear what she's wearing, she looks fit, healthy, positively glowing. Glowing red. Especially the eyes. "Come now, Dino Argenti. You wanted to taste my fleshly pleasures. Your companion did. And now it's your turn." The sultry, thrilling contralto drips from the mouth of the vision of delight and horror, insinuating into the ears and wrapping itself, purring, around the reptile brain. Against his will, Dino becomes aroused. "Oh God, no, please, no. Don't..." "It's far too late," Satana snaps, cutting off Dino's impromptu and ineffective prayer, "to invoke His name. Your soul is forfeit. You are not in a state of grace. And tonight I reap it." In a blinding flash of light, Satana reveals her true form, wreathed in flame, skin red, horns pushing out of her head in a curl as bat-like wings unfurl behind her. "Now stop wasting my time with this whining. Your friend was reaped. Now it's your turn."
Nolan Voight	Sometimes, no matter how much a basters someone is, the shear terror that fills their heart, their soul, their very voice, can somehow cross the very ether that seperates life from that which is /beyond/. Dino's pleads seem to do just that, his voice becoming more and more shrill as the glowing demonic woman advances on him. As if answering a prayer, something pushes itself out of the air.. a shadow of inky blackness.. a tendril.. Then a second tendril.. No, these aren't tendrils but arms.. Then a shadow of a head pushes itself frrr of the non-existant hole in the air.. As if the night was giving birth.. And suddenly a whole human figure falls to it's knees, the shadow's starting to fade somewhat from the figure who is panting loudly.
Satana Hellstrom	Satana stops, mid-step, as the tendrils form in the air, and as more of the incursion makes itself known, she takes a quick step back, hands moving in a swift invocation, leaving braided trails of flame in their wake that spell something out in the fell tongue of Hell. The glyph hovers in the air a fraction of a second before disassembling into a shell around her. Ward in place, she watches carefully as the panting figure falls to its knees. "What...? Or who? Are you?" The voice seems genuinely curious, perhaps mildly confused, but not afraid in any way. The same cannot be said for Dino, who finds the new arrival as terrifying as the old one and runs to the fence blocking his path, ineffectually trying to climb the vertical metal slats and accomplishing nothing beyond cutting his hand on a burr. "Whatever, or whoever, you are, I suggest you stand aside. I have a sinner to reap." Her gaze turns to Dino again, and a smile filled with malice and hunger completely fails to put her prey at ease. "You can watch if you wish, but I do not share my food."
Nolan Voight	It is almost as if the pained breath is ananswer into and of itself. Deep gulps that seem to threaten a coug as if the man was FEASTING too heavily on the sweet dirty flavour of Gotham air. Slowly the newcomer seems to finally get his breathing undercontrol and with a pained, but not unhappy sound he pushes himself to his feet, A pair of mismatched eyes set in a drawn face peer across the alley,first to the demon and then to their prey. He frowns slightly and shakes his head. "I dunno how long I been gone but... If that is Dino Argenti then go right a fucking head and do whatever ya wanna do to him.. "
Satana Hellstrom	Satana's eyes snap back to Nolan, and her mouth forms into a far friendlier smile. "Oh, my," she murmurs as she starts to stalk Dino once more. "You're about to make the best choice you've ever made, whoever you are. I will bring you to the heights of ecstasy as a reward." Her eyes stray back to Dino who gibbers with fear as she approaches. "No, please. No. I've got family to care for." "Lie. You send your wife to walk the streets for your money." "My boy needs me." "For what? Abuse? Violence?" Dino gives up and just starts to cry. "Oh, darling," Satana purrs, "don't cry. I promise, you will enjoy this. Well, almost all of it. Until the final step." Her eyes glow as she pins Dino, somehow, in place, his resistance ending, his face going slack. The demon woman steps up and enters an embrace that is whole body, seeming, from ankle to neck. Against his will, Dino's hands, seemingly not fully under his control, start to wander. Satana's head pulls back and her lips brush his. Instantly Dino jerks to life, eyes wide and hazed with lust, sounds and body language indicating extreme pleasure. His hands wander further astray with no objection; indeed with eagerness if the demon's body language is anything to go by. Then it happens. Again her head pulls back, and this time a stream of purple light pours from his mouth, together with moans of pleasure that rise into climax. And then into screams of horror and pain and regret, just like the earlier scream. The purple light builds into a mass before him, taking a shape reminiscent of a butterfly as his body starts to dessicate, drying into a horrible looking husk with a face permanently frozen into pain and horror. The dried husk falls to the ground as Satana lets go her clutch, and her now-freed hand reaches out to pluck the 'butterfly', admiring it. Before popping it into her mouth. "Delicious!" she moans, her body shuddering, her knees wobbling, in an obvious climax of her own.
Nolan Voight	Nolan tenses ever so slightly as she promises him that ecstacy but he doesn't look away from her or her prey0. HE makes a small wave of his scarred left hand and a forearm crut ch fades into existance, on which he leans. It is apparrent that his left leg is held in a metllic leg brace. "No, I think I'm okay the way I am.." he says, then rolls his syes as Dino cries. "I think your girl and kid won't mind you shufflin off, man. I know the three teenage hookers you killed way back won't care either.." he says And when the demoness takes his soul, Nolan writhes a bit in discomfort, but never once does he look away.. Or even blink.
Satana Hellstrom	Once her feeding is complete, and the subsequent climax that rocks through her subsides, Satana turns, and in the process her shape changes, into a tall, voluptuous, red-headed woman in a catsuit with a lot of panels cut away to make the entire ensemble, look like it's a small wardrobe malfunction away from being undressed entirely. "You have a taste for justice," she says, looking Nolan up and down. "But not the ..." Disgust taints her voice. "... hypocritical variety that keeps sinners sinning." She extends a hand, the red, demonic glow fading from her eyes, and the ward around her. "Satana Hellstrom," she says. "Of the Boston Hellstroms," she adds unnecessarily. Beat. "I guess it's obvious what I am." Only it isn't, is it? Lying by omission is still lying.
Nolan Voight	One form or another, neither seems to bother the cupled redhead.. Of course what she shows and what he sees could be two very different things. His mismatched eyes seem to ech reflect something a bit different of her. The demon didn't really seem to scare him and the much more human form.. wll.. he does look at it a bit appreciatively, maybe even a bit hungrily, but hekeeps pretty good control of himelf "Justice and vengence.. Someone has to speak, and act, for The Dead." he states then looks down at her.. hand. AHem. IT takes him a moment to realize that she is OFFERING her his hand andm unlike many who would run and flee afte seeing her munch on someone's soul, he takes it.. if a bit warily. "Yeah.. the /Boston/ Helltroms.." he says, dryly. "I'm Nolan.. Nola Voight.. And I THINK we're in Gotham.. Hell I dunno what the date even is.."
Satana Hellstrom	"Yes, we are in Gotham," Satana says with a chuckle. She leaves the question of the date unanswered with a glint of mischief in her eyes, choosing instead to reel herself into Nolan's personal space using her hand as the linchpin. "You have no need to fear." Her nostrils flare, eyes close, as she makes a show of sniffing. "There is no stench of any but the most venal of sins about you. And I am sated. You won't become my repast." She tilts her head, pursing her lips. "It would be perfectly safe to take up my offer of reward." Mental pressure begins as she tests Nolan's willpower. The mental pressure suggesting he reach out and take her into his arms. And well beyond. Her eyes fill his vision as she seemingly stares past his eyes and into his very soul. All the while keeping up conversational niceties. "As for a date, why it turns out I have nothing even pencilled into my appointment book." She smiles. The mental pressure increases. "And when I'm not hungry I'm the perfect date..."
Nolan Voight	Well, stating that she doesn't scent his sins, if that is possible for a demon to do in the firdt place, almost makes him snort in laughter. She's either lying or playing him. At least that's what he thinks. IS he right, who knows...^r^rBut maybe it's that cynicism of things divine or infernal, or the fact that s uper hot woman /seems/ to be hitting on him that actually girds him. Oh, there is a definate attraction to the offer somewhere deep down in the part if brain or.. ahem.. lower than the brain, but... He shivers slightly and gives her a raised eyebrow and.. a smirk. "What do they say about things being too good to be true?"
Satana Hellstrom	"What do they say about opportunity knocking boots?" Satana counters with a wicked grin. The pressure relents. "I thought as much. Practitioner of some kind. What school? Or are you a hedge witch?" Nolan gets a once-over with eyes that seem to tear off his skin to see what's underneath before putting it back on. Heavily analytical eyes. Like a possible threat is being sized up. "Oh, and I wasn't lying. You'll find I rarely do that. It's too hard to keep track of them all; I'm not Lucifer, Lord of Lies. I do come from Boston."
Nolan Voight	"While 'I lie quite a bit." Nolan says matter of factly. "But only to avoid telling the truth." Okay, that made some sense... Somewhere. He stands under her gaze, not seeming to be bothered by her obvious attention. He isn't an ugly man, by any means, but somewhat rough. Not rough as in 'Muscular Logger' or related ways, but rough as in he must have grown up in a rough childhood. He is rather thin, but must have been much thinner as a child and somewhat muscled up, and of average height, with a n unkept mop of red hair. His face is somewhat long. Hs eyes, as stated, are mismatched. One blue nd one amber. He wears a leather jacket over a cheap suit, his hands gloved and his left leg in a legbrace. "And before I decide to do anything I REALLY need to know /whn/ it is..."
Satana Hellstrom	"If only there were some kind of tool to help us establish the time and date..." Satana muses, putting a finger above her lips in a thoughtful pose. "Oh I know!" She pulls out a mobile phone ... from where is not exactly clear, given that her outfit leaves no room for anything that wouldn't stand out as obvious, especially given how it's designed specifically to attract eyes to its lack of all concealing qualities. "Here you go." She hands the phone across to Nolan ... a phone which, as soon as it touches Nolan's hands, gives him a very strong impression of this device being near a LOT of deaths. Horrible deaths filled with agony and fear. "As you can see it's March 20th," she says. She pauses, then, before adding, "2032."
Nolan Voight	"2032?!?" Nolan can only stare at Deathphone, matching her given date to it's deathly display. He is silent for a few long moments befre sighing and offering the device back to her. "Well.. thats longer then I wanted but.. not as long as I expected.." he gripes. "Son of a bitch...."
Satana Hellstrom	"Well, why don't you and I go somewhere private, then, and we can talk about the length of your ..." Eyes flicker with baleful mischief, hard points of Hellfire deep in the pupils surrounded by amber irises. "... absence? I happen to own a club nearby. The Happy Heterai Bar and Girl." Yes. She said girl, not grill. "It's a sleazy dive of a place and perfect for private conversations. And private lap dances if that's your style." Her lips quirk in amusement. "I'm not sure who's the starring act tonight, but if it's Fire & Ice, you can get a two for one deal."
Nolan Voight	Nolan sighs and shakes his head... Though not in a way that denies her invitation. more a shake of regret. "Three years.." he mumbles.. Then straightens up again. "Bar and.. girl?" he asks, eyebrow raised.. and smirks ever so slightly. "Well, I could use a drink.." As for if he is interested in girls, well, it's not like he hasn't been appreciating /her/ a bit but he sounds /more/ enthused about booze.
Satana Hellstrom	"Let me do a bit of tidying up here, first. The self-styled protector of this city gets very upset when I clean up its worst sinners," Satana says, disgust tainting her voice with a sneer. "I find my life much more convenient when there's no evidence of my work." Without any further warning she makes a circle with her finger, opening a smoke-rimmed hole in reality through which blasts intense heat and loud screaming. She reaches through the hole and pulls out ... A monstrosity. It looks like a dog, only no dog has an entire mouth full of needle-sharp pointed teeth. Three rows of them. Nor do dogs typically have spiky horns protruding from every joint. The excited noises it makes and the face-licking, however, are entirely on point for a dog. "Food time, my little plaything," she says with distant fondness to her Hellish pet. "When you're done with that one..." Her arm sweeps dismissively to the desiccated husk in the alley. "...there's another one out that way." The other arm sweeps vaguely in the direction she'd come from. "Once you're done, you go right back home. No eating cats!" The doglike creature whines, but in the face of Satana's steadfast stare, whimpers, tucking in its tail in subordination, before turning to get its food. "Alright, then," Satana says. "Let's head off and watch girls undress, drink, and talk."
Nolan Voight	It is hard to tell whether he is intrigued or frightened by the appearence of the canine from hell. He steps back a little bit but doesn't seem to be overly frightened by the creature. Then again, he is quite literally a child of the streets of Gotham so the hell pooch is probably not the weirdest thing he's seen in his life. I find the best way to avoid the 'Protector' is to not show up on his sonar at all.." he says as he watches doggy run away. He shakes his head again and looks to Satana. "Lead the way."
Satana Hellstrom	Satana takes the "arm candy" position, practically melding her left side to Nolan's right, wrapping her arm around his waist, letting his own arm go wherever he chooses to put it. Her slightly elevated body temperature, like that of someone with a mild fever, is easily felt through the clothing, almost as if by design: bringing attention to what her chosen target has next to him. (Or her. Cubi aren't exactly known for discrimination...) "You didn't mention your school of mana manipulation," she says conversationally as they walk. "Is it secret?" Beat. "I do hope so. I adore the process of pulling secrets out of people." The conversation continues thusly, politely chatty, until, a few blocks away, a dingy sign with flashing neon--not deliberately flashing but rather because the sign is malfunctioning--spelling out the name of the place, comes into view. The interior of the club is ... what you'd expect from a dockside strip club. It's the kind of place that caters to the lowest of the low by giving them something to stare at with glassy eyes and slack jaws. The drinks are cheap (because they're watered down after your second, most people losing the ability to taste this after that point), the women are ... well, they dance. Sort of. While removing their clothing. There's a certain recognizable type here. "We'll take my usual table," Satana says to the barely-clad girl acting as mixed greeter and waitress. The usual place apparently being in the middle of the club where all eyes can see her...
Nolan Voight	It's hard to tell if the redheaded cripple is tense or just bony as she slides up against him.He takes her arm with his and limps alongside her. "I talk to the dead." he says, rather openly, as if not caring if she knows, "Among other things. I don't hide what I do, per se, just don't explain it to norms." And for the rest of the walk, he reciprocates the polite chatter until they arrive at her intended destination. He eyes the sign a moment, then looks around and lets out a faint sigh but still follows her in and, after being greeted by the server, takes a seat across from the succubus. "Been a while since I been here..." he remarks dryly.
Satana Hellstrom	"Oh, you've been to my club before then?" Satana asks, seemingly pleased at the news. "That's good. The poor girls here need the money. Tell me you pay for lap dances and tip heavily?" Her eyes are dancing with amusement. Amusement at what? Unclear. Perhaps the thought of someone as down-and-out looking paying for lap dances. Or perhaps at pretending she actually cares about the 'poor girls'. (Por que no los dos?) Lounging back in her seat, one leg up on the table before her, she watches the dancers on stage at the moment, a hand-written placard clumsily identifying them as "The Tiffanies", their act the usual salacious-but-in-a-sleazy-cowardly-way "lesbian" act that clearly has no actual passion between the pair (and very cunningly has very little actual contact despite the promises in their movements). A small cloud passes over her face briefly; like the kind of expression a ballerina might have when watching some clumsy line dancing at a rodeo show. Her eyes then return to Nolan. "You speak to the dead. As a psychopomp or in some other capacity?" she asks. The drinks (which didn't seem at any point to have been ordered) arrive and are placed in front of the pair by the same girl who'd greeted them before she scurries off.
Nolan Voight	Nolan Voight sets his forearm crutch against the table and leans back in his chair to get comfortable. "Well I dunno if this place was yours 15 years ago. And to be fair, back then all my money went to drugs. I only came in here to deliver stuff." he admits. He eyes the leg on the table appreciatively, but then follows her gaze to the stage. He doesn't seem heavily impressed with the fake lipstick lesbian routine, and finally looks back to Satana. "I just.. see and talk to ghosts." he tells her. The ones who haven't pased to whatever afterlife most souls go."He picks up the drink the girl leaves behind and sips it.. NOt suspicious in the least, then licks his lips.
Satana Hellstrom	"Do you help them along to their afterlife? If so, that makes you a psychopomp. If not ... are they just your friends or something?" Satana seems genuinely intrigued at the notion. Which notion? Likely either: helping or being friends. Both seem alien to her nature. "So where did you come from in that alley. I was a bit busy so I didn't really have time to do scrying, and when I was freed up the traces were gone."
Nolan Voight	Nolan Voight is eyeing that drink,seeiminly wondering what it is and they somehow shorted him on the booze portion. He wouldn't put it past a dive bar like this one. He takes another sip before responding. "I help those I think can use it.. and yes, A lot of ghosts could be considered my friends. I trust most of them more than The Living." he admits, Then he shifts a bit in his seat when she asks where he had come from and looks into the drink now, swirling it around. "I was in... a very far away place." he says slowly. "Beyond. life.. death.. Beyond the ever after... I had been trying to help someone and gt..lost."
Satana Hellstrom	Satana laughs at that, and in a teasing voice says, "That's the problem with 'helping' It leads to massive inconveniences, and is rarely treated with much in the way of thankfulness." Her eyes flick to the drink. "Is there a problem with the drink? Not to your taste? I could have them bring something different."
Nolan Voight	Nolan Voight chuckles. "Well, if I didn't help SOME of the dead they wouldn't leave me alone.. not that they leave me alone anyways but at least they aren't as annoying as they /could/ be." he says.... then sips the drink and sets it down. "no, the drik is fine.. I guess it's just been a lng time since I had one. Food and drink worked differently in the Everafter...."
Satana Hellstrom	Satana purses her lips in thought, then glances up at the discreet board naming the acts slotted for the evening. "I imagine that ... other things are also different, if not entirely absent, in the Everafter." She pastes a friendly smile on her face, continuing, "A returning hero should get his reward, though, don't you think? Stella is on later tonight, so she's probably available now for a private..." She pauses just a hair here, to emphasize the next word, with just a hint of irony in her voice. "...dance." Beat. "On the house, of course."
Nolan Voight	Nolan Voight raises a brow and sort of.. smirks.. and shakes hi head. "Oh that seems a bit tempting..." he says, and it is quite an honest answer. "But I just got back to the 'Real World' and I'm not sure I could... appreciate agood 'private dance' before I got at least twelve hours of real sleep.."
Satana Hellstrom	Satana shrugs. "Temptation is my business," she says with a chuckle. "I can't really help myself. I see a person, I start thinking of temptation. So you'll rain check with Stella, then? Or someone else? I just mentioned her because her act is quite a bit later. Any of the girls will do private dance sessions, however, when they're not queued for the stage. Whichever one takes your fancy." She gestures and the server is there seconds later. "Remember this man," she says. "When he comes back in he's got a dance on the house." The two Tiffanies finish their act and the sweaty announcer--he can't be seen, but he SOUNDS like he's sweaty!--does the usual bored-sounding patter singing the girl's praises for their mediocre act before announcing the next act: Candy the Candy-Stripper. The girl coming is overly made-up, has "blonde" hair that hasn't been touched up recently so the black roots are visible, and is dressed in a candy-striper outfit from the 'Sexy Nurse' part of the costume catalogue. Her stage name and act a very grotesquely stupid pun as a result. "You might like Candy," Satana says. "She's very eager to please; she needs a lot of money quickly to get her university tuitions for next term." Beat. "Communications major." Of course. And something in Satana's eye as she eyes the stage suggests she's almost professionally offended at the acts; that she has a burning desire to go up on the stage and show them how to do it right.