This Clay Earth: Prospectors' Savior

[Funka Genocide]

Wind.

It was that strange hot wind that blows through your window as you head down Boulder Highway. Your so hot all you can think about is ice cubes, whatever concerns you might have at the moment: business deals, legal proceedings, rent money, drugs, children, nuclear war. Nothing, all your concerns were replaced by that stinging desire for something liquid and cool, just ice. It becomes like a mantra as you hit the exit, and despite your discomfort, you are somehow free for those few minutes on the freeway. Thats the magic of Las Vegas, so many dire pitfalls around every shining corner, but you're still free.

The American Dream.

.................................................. ...................................

The afternoon sun glazed the top of his bald head, another Joe Nobody (Greg Richards) walking down the gaudy street known forever the world over as "The Strip". He stops in front of an old plastic newspaper dispenser, he fumbles through his coat for some change.

Its odd to be wearing a coat when its 110 degrees outside, odder still that the bald man seems perfectly comfortable, a few modest sweat beeds on his forehead, nothing so extravagant as puddle arms. Its actually quite miraculous...

quite.

He retrieves his prize from the dusty dead air within the box, a freshly printed Las Vegas Times. He thumbs through it casually, detached, the way a man who had no interest in news might, who only wanted the newspaper as a convenient excuse to stop and loiter about.

Although no one would notice in any case. Old habits die hard.

Another man, the second player in this farce. He wears a wide brimmed ten gallon hat, and boots that might as well say "shit kicker" in neon letters along the side. An unlit Marlboro hangs placidly from his mouth, he coughs once to get the bald mans attention.

The accent is thick, and utterly predictable.

"Excuse me sah, but would ya happen to have a light?"
.................................................. ...........................

Across the street, in front of a giant representation of a Coke Bottle, a scrawny looking kid in torn jeans (Daniel Savage) stares upwards. The sun reflects at odd angles from his disheveled black hair as the Vegas wind tussles it about. He looks concerned, or perhaps the sting of staring at the sun was getting to him.

Even though it wasn't the sun he was staring at.

Wings, an irredescent blue, like what he thought an ocean might look like.

"Big fuckin' bird" he said to himself, then headed back inside the arcade.

The God Bird flew on...

.................................................. ................

a few blocks down the street...

"Janet! Janet! hold up!"

He was running down the escalator towards the main lobby, his tie flung over his shoulder inadvertently.

She stopped and turned to face him, a look of slight annoyance on her face.

"You forgot your keys, I ran all the way from the board room, you're a fast walker you know that?" He had a smile on his face, the smile of a child who expects to be rewarded for being a good boy. It was odd to see that expression on a 30 year old man in a business suit, comical.

She extended her hand and took the keys from him. "Thanks Jack, I swear I'd lose my head if it weren't attached." an old cliche, those typically conveyed a sense of connection, didn't they? Who knew anyways?

She hurried out the door, towards the street where her car wasn't parked.

She hadn't drove her car today.

a question popped into her mind: I wonder who's keys these are?

simple enough question, the answer though...

.................................................. ...

He could see the well dressed man standing in the same spot she'd left him for almost a whole minute. He had become so fascinated by the spectacle of a broken heart he'd left the slot machine dormant. He'd already made enough today anyways, the tragedy playing itself out in front of him was far more entertaining anyways.

He sat up, his cup of quarters jingling with his every move. "Find the treasures of Egypt!" scrawled in overly loud lettering around the plastic change container. He walked to where the man was standing and placed his hand on the strangers shoulder.

"Better luck next time man" he said with a genuine smile. The man looked like he'd just been awoken from a dream, he coughed once and looked at the man with his hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess you're right" he couldn't explain the reaction, but Jack felt a little better.

Jack went back up the escalator to wherever casino managers went. Nick Granger exited through a set of automatic glass doors. He set the cup of change, about 300 dollars in quarters he estimated, on a bus stop bench. He walked on down the street, a homeless man got sloshed later on that day.

.................................................. ...........................

At a Denny's, a few blocks from the news stand.

It was early afternoon still, and despite all odds, there were only two patrons (Job Jameson, Zack Trillian, both sitting at different tables, most likley not even aware of eachother) in the restaurant. Two young men, both had the look of college freshmen, that slightly cynical, though uncontrollably optimistic ennui that surrounds men getting used to the concept of manhood. Only two, how strange.

and unfortunate for the waiting staff, college kids didn't typically tip well.

.................................................. ..................................

The artificial wind of an open window on the freeway had died down, that pergatory awaiting all travelers at the end of their flight, a stop light, held the man in its grip. The bizzarely dressed man checked a watch that no longer ticked. He made an appreciative sound, and then he wasn't there anymore.

...............................

Ok everyone, heres the scene, everyone is within a few blocks of everyone else, and SS's character is starting a conversation with a man in a cowboy hat who he doesn't know. Vergil just teleported out of his car for some reason or another (I'm going to PM Dante with more information which shall be revealed later on)

Something about to happen, something kind of big, but for now lets go with the conversation between Greg and the cowboy, as well as a few internal monologues from everyone else if they feel like it.

Use the sign up thread for discussion. :)

[Darth SS]

Greg patted his pockets, and muttered under his breath.

"Seriously, it's like people never check at a friend's house when their children go missing..."

Greg got through his jacket, having found nothing. He then checked his pants, and handily produced a zippo with a little badge on it. Hooray for broken dreams.

"Here ya' go."

[Funka Genocide]

The cowboy lit his ciggarrette and took a long drag. The smoke curled arund his head as he exhaled slowly through his nostrils. The fire of the lighter reflected eerily off his glassy eyes. Up close the cowboy was larger than he appeared to be from a distance. There was a strange odor in the air, smokey, though not quite the flavor of ciggarette smoke.

"thank ya sah, I appreciate the consideration" he smiled a wide smile, his teeth were the dingy yellow of a nicotine addict. "ya wouldn't happen ta know what time it is, would ya?" he asked as he gestured to his wrist in the universal sign for watch. Or impatient ass hole, though not in this context.

[Bob The Mercenary]

The waitress tripped over her words. "Excuse me? What was your order?"

"Pancakes with bacon." Zack repeated his order. The waitress didn't bother to write it down.

"And to drink?"

"Hot chocolate."

"Should be out in a few minutes."

"Thank you."

His friends from his hometown were used to his unusual habit of ordering breakfast in the early afternoon, so he found the waitress' uneasiness strange.

He also found the relatively vacant nature of the restaurant strange. He figured everyone must be out gambling their life savings away. Good for them.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out the rather professional-looking fake I.D. he had purchased from a street vendor. He fiddled with it for a while, focused on the shine the foil logo gave off as the sun hit it. He had no doubt that it wouldn't work in an attempt to get into a casino. He looked way too young for his age already.

He put the I.D. back in his pocket, then looked up. He once again focused his attention on the other customer sitting across the diner. Zack had been momentarily peaking at him then away, then back for the entire duration of his stay. He was always uneasy around people and always thought they had a reason to stare at him, so he played along with the game, thinking the only way to stop a stare is to stare it down.

The other guy never stared back.

He figured the guy was just another harmless customer here to get a meal and settled down in his booth.

"Sorry for the wait. Your meal is ready." The waitress returned with a forced smile. She set the plates down and walked away. Zack immediately dug into the tower of syrup packets and ripped them open one by one, practically drowning the circles of hardened batter in his dish. A passerby would've thought he was eating cereal.

"They never give me enough." He sighed and dug in.

[Dante]

...and wait.

A small group of people was carousing in the streets, made up mostly of young, skimpily dressed women orbiting two well-dressed men, who were red in the face with the alcohol which their winnings had won them.

One of the men leered drunkenly at a young blonde hanging off his arm, and in a remarkable display of thespianism, she smiled back and cooed as he stuffed a twenty dollar bill down the front of her blouse, resisting the desire to knee him in the groin and make off with his bulging wallet.

Money, in enough quantities, made everything palatable. And after all, a girl had to make a living... in any way she could.

The entourage passed in front of a shadowed alley, the bright lights illuminating them turning it into a strange reverse eclipse - the light swallowing the darkness.

And as they passed, the darkness returned... to frame a blue-clad figure.

Vergil stepped out of the alley, walking evenly, purposefully, through these streets where the masses milled around in uncertainty until the greatest certainty of them all claimed them. Oh, they had lives, of course. Families to raise, parents to support, dreams to fulfill... in many ways, the city was a book, and the people, its stories. Or you could say it was a tapestry, the lines of many lives coming together to form an ever-changing picture. No doubt philosophers had more analogies.

To Vergil this was all perfectly meaningless.

He glanced at his watch. Time. Where had it gone? Thirty long years, searching for Dante... no, not thirty years. Less. There had been sleep. There had been survival. He remembered.

He remembered a face, a coat, a bald head. An accent, a huge hat, and a uselessman's excuse for clothing. Rows of figures, images and faces. Around them, lights glowing in the darkness, huge icons, people clad in strange outfits that made him look plain, filling the buildings which were like shrines to the neon gods above them. He remembered a name.

Las Vegas.

He remembered this from the vision which the Cherokee shaman had given him in the form of a ball of peyote and a lie-down on a stinking couch as the old man had fed his baby grand-daughter milk.

Find them, young man. That is all I can tell you.

And as the images swam into focus, he suddenly found that he was there, watching them. The thick accent curled off from under the hat, following the trail of smoke. Behind them, he could see the same rows of figures and images he had seen in the vision - here and now, he recognized them as magazines on the racks at a newsstand.

For one of the few times in his life, Vergil was unsure. He had a place, which was here, and a time, which was now.

Beyond that, he had nothing.

So Vergil did the only thing he could do - watch...

[My Lead Airbag]

Job thought nothing of the man sitting across the room. He didn't have any reason, and besides, there were much bigger things in life than random starers. For example, the perfect cheeseburger, and how far away from it this Denny...thing. Job had always regretted going to New York City. He hated the city, hated the unneeded hustle, the teeming masses of crowds that were more and more pissed.

But that Stage Deli burger...it was a glorious beacon, and every time he had another piece of beef with cheese on top his mind wandered. So what if he guy across the way was currently eating syrup with waffle bits? Jobwas trying to reclaim that one bit of burger ectasy.

After sadly scarfing down the burger, Job set about munching on the accompanying fries, wondering if the waitress's tip should be deduced because her employers couldn't acheive perfection.

[Cloud Strife]

Nick enjoyed doing that, leaving some of his winnings for the day in random places. Felt pretty good, even if it was usually picked up by a homeless man lookin' to get drunk. Besides, Nick had more than enough money to live off of, anyway. Pulling out his car keys, he pressed the unlock button on his romote, and the bright red Ferarri flashed its lights twice, signaling that the alarm was now disabled. He got in, turned the key, and drove off towards his home in the suburbs, not having a second thought about the hopeless man he had seen in the casino lobby.

[Archbio]

There was no point in going back inside to search for the keys' former owner. If they had belonged to someone who had assisted any of today's two meetings in the board room, they wouldn't be missed long, Janet Weir figured, and they were safe with her now. Why did she have them now quickly imposed itself as a much more important question, and really the only way she could make sense of that first question.

Who had these keys belonged to? Maybe it didn't matter anymore. Maybe that wasn't the point. What were these the keys of?

Weir stopped walking at once, and looked down into her hand, at the keys, the metal reflecting a different shine than her palm's moisture. Then, she looked along the street, trying to find a match for they keys. Even though the matter of the keys hadn't stopped her from starting on her way home, she hadn't went too far, and any of these cars could belong to these keys. Or rather, she corrected herself, any of the cars in this city. There was no point in looking too hard, and maybe the keys had come to her only to be collected; for no immediate use.

It wouldn't be the first time.

[VA_Ninja]

"This machine's fucking busted!"

Daniel watched with increasing amusement as his opponent gave serveral heavy kicks to the Street Fighter machine. He flicked his hair back, the young man swearing up a storm.

"Sure, it was the machine. Doesn't matter though, pay up," Daniel said with a smug grin and his hand out to accept the token of his ill-earned victory.

"No way! Double or nothing! This time, we switch sides. Let's see how you like getting the shitty joystick."

.....................................

Patting at his new stack of ten $20 dollar bills tucked neatly away in his pocket, Daniel stepped back out unto the Vegas Strip. Money was everything in Vegas, and conning selfish fools out of their money proved to be a valuable revenue source. No, not conning in his mind, but rather "using his talents to relieve those with the burden of excess income. He liked ephamistic shit like that.

Looking to satiate his hunger, Daniel looked for anything to fill his stomach. A Denny's a few blocks down...no, got a bad case of the runs last time. Eventually he settled on a cart vender just outside the arcade. Munching away, we wondered why that man on the other side of the street wore that huge coat in this swealtering heat.

[Darth SS]

Greg checked his watch, then said, "7:11 ironically enough."

He slipped his lighter back into his pocket, and then pulled out a small notepad and ran through it one last time to ensure a court wouldn't come down on him.

Would it kill people to care about their children?

[Funka Genocide]

The bald man checked his wrist watch instinctually. "Twelve o' clock" he said, a growing undertone of apprehension in his voice.

"Thank ya kindly" said the cowboy, his eyes drifting off towards something undefined in the distance. A smile tugged at the corners of his knife-slit mouth, it wasn't very attractive. "Did ya ever hear stories about the old days? I mean the really old days, back when everyone had a pistol on their hip. Twelve o' clock was always a special time in the movies, high noon they used ta call it. Two young punks would git to quarrelin, and 'fore ya know it one of dem's got his hands reaching for a pistol, then they both agree ta settle it out in the streets... at high noon the next day. Did ya evah wander what that'd be like? Sleeping through the whole night knowing ya might be dead tomorrah." he chuckled quietly to himself, then continued, "When ya think about it though, couldn't ya say the same thing everyday regardless?" He laughed a bit more at this comment, seemingly amused at his own voice.

Abruptly, he stopped laughing. His eyes focused on the here and now, and he peered down an alley way some distance from the newstand. An oddly clothed man was leaned against a stone wall, he seemed to be watching the cowboy intently, seemed to be watching everything intently, as if he were expecting something.

Greg got a familiar feeling, the kind of sensation you get in a bar when you know someone's about to get punched, but you can't tell wether its going to be you or not.

The cowboys smile widened "So, ya showed up did ya?" his voice had a gravel to it now that it didn't possess earlier, an edge that was unmistakeably menacing.

.................................................. ..........

Just another day, another few thousand dollars earned and spent, a few more minutes of luxury. He wondered if the comfort were worth the price, the fact that he really couldn't complain. He couldn't gripe, couldn't lament, couldn't feel...

A pain somewhere near the base of his skull, brief but stinging. He stopped the Ferrari in the middle of the parking lot exit lane. The sensation wasn't new, but it was always a shock when it hit.

When was the last time anyway?

Black Jack against a Seraph, he remembered ruefully. Man had that holy bastard played a mean game.

.................................................. ..................................

The syrup-pancake mixture was fast depleting, the bottom of the plate was in view. He thought of a few poignant metaphors concerning pancakes and the duality of man, shook his head and wondered what the hell college was teaching him.

Then the room went gray, the kind of grey you'd see in an old western movie, shades of black over white. He looked up, and found his gaze moving towards the waiting staff. They were all grey, they seemed to fit the milieu quite nicely actually, His gaze went to the street, where a few dozen colorless tourists ambled by, oblivious to their lack of vibrancy. Finally he looked across the room to the one other customer, and saw a young man in full technicolor loudness. He looked at his own hands and found them to be flesh colored.

The other man looked up with a start, and stared directly at his colorful companion, seeing the same vision in his own mind.

"Well this can't be good." they said in unison, while outside a tumbleweed rolled past.

.................................................. ...............................

He stood eating his food in the midday sun, it wasn't half bad for a street vendor.

He looked across the street once more, at the bald man in a coat, he could see a look of trepidation in his eyes. The man in the cowboy hat had apparently just told a bad joke, as he was laughing to himself.

Then he stopped, and like one of those stupid where's Waldo books, he could see another man whop must have been standing there all along, an oddly dressed man leaning against a stone wall. He looked like some kind of video game character...

.................................................. ................

She kept walking until she fel she should stop. there was something right about stopping at this particular moment, something necessary. She glanced once more at the keys in her hand, saw the monogrammed "Chevrolet" emblom, felt the weight of them, not only in ounces, but in years. These were old, she decided.

An old Chevrolet, blue with an irredescent turquoise bird emblazoned on the hood flew by.

Was that Elvis driving it?

[Darth SS]

Greg looked to the left. Then to the right.

Instinct told him to get the hell out of the way. Carefully, he stepped out of the line of fire. Greg had always known when the shit was hitting the fan. That sense was pinging loud enough to give him a headache.

[Cloud Strife]

Nick was rubbing the back of his neck, partially irritated by the pain, and partially irritated by the memory of that damn angel. He'd lost a lot of money that night. Stupid thing...

Nick was about to head off again, when he noticed a very overdressed man staring down another guy, dressed up like a cowboy. Something told Nick to stay and watch, so he shifted to reverse and pulled into the nearest parking spot. He got out and set the alarm, a grin on his face. Whatever was going down, this'd be fun to watch, he was sure.

[Dante]

OOC: Sorry for the late and unimaginative post - I didn't notice FG was addressing me until it was past 12 midnight my time.

"So, ya showed up did ya?"

Vergil's face was as stony as the wall he leaned on, but his mind recoiled. Very few could have noticed him if he didn't want to be found. He took pride in that, the fact that he left no trail even when his clients had left their earthly domiciles for him to take care of.

The feeling was comparable to having the curtain to the changing room you're currently using ripped away, exposing you to the hungry eyes of thousands of cameras.

To his credit, Vergil showed little discomfiture as he pushed off the wall, leather-booted feet gliding across the battered pavement, to face the two men.

"I did. And what have I shown up for?"

He rocked back on his heels, looking the man up and down. His eyes narrowed.

He didn't like this.

[Bob The Mercenary]

OOC: Assuming this is all going down outside the Denny's.

IC: Assuming the grayness of the scene in front of him was the result of some weird coincidence involving the sun going behind a cloud and his eyes adjusting, he returned to his food.

Zack couldn't quite finish the meal. The excessive sugar content made his stomach sour. The waitress had already left the check under the hot chocolate mug and he could just make out the chocolate-stained $6.25 scrawled on the backside. After digging out his wallet again, paying the fee, and leaving a modest tip, he got up and went for the door. He opened it to face three men, all wearing serious faces.

He was always bad at introductions, especially to people he didn't know or wanted to know. Wanting to pretend like he saw nothing, his eyes went to the ground and stayed there. Not knowing where to go or what to do to get out of his predicament, he put his back to the Denny's wall and watched.

The world was still grey.

[Funka Genocide]

another one of those damned tumbleweeds rolled by, the scene was getting cliched already.

Suddenly, the cowboy began speaking in another voice entirely, the southern accent gone, replaced by an oddly european, probably english accent. "Please allow me a few moments to get int character before we answer anything pertinent." he said cordially. As he spoke he removed his hat. The removal of the hat seemed to promote a transformation, his clothing, his face, everything about him seemed to change in an instant.

He dusted his hat off brusquely, it changed color from dingy brown to stark black in an eye blink. He replaced the newly shaded hat atop his head and snapped his fingers. The sound was like a gunshot.

The kid leaned against the wall jumped involuntarily.

"You'll have to excuse my dramtic predelections, I can be a bit over the top every now and then" he said light heartedly to Zack. He looked like one of those old villains in a spaggetti western, the whole damn world looked like a bad western. Only the main players in color.

"Now, as to why you're here my dour friend, well, that depends entirely on the next few seconds" and with that he drew his revolver and fired a shot towards Vergil with such speed, the gunshot was heard before anyone knew what was happening.

[Cloud Strife]

Nick's smile quickly disappeared as he headed for cover behind a car parked on the side of the road. That's when he noticed the rest of the world was grey. "What the hell? What's goin' on here?" He cautiously looked around the corner of the car, at the two 'fighters', standing out clear as day, colored against a grey background. He didn't really notice the other few that were colored as well. All he really knew was one thing: this wasn't fun anymore.

[Dante]

Life fell into a series of stop-motion stills, like a slide show of sorts - gun going up, a hammer falling, the fireball blossoming, the bullet emerging, Vergil's hand rising, the air warping, his hand descending, sound of steel drawing, feel of space rippling, a point at the gunman's throat.

The fired round hit the wall, embedding itself with a spray of atomized masonry. A careful observer would have noted that Vergil seemed to have traversed the space between the other man without passing through it.

A really careful observer would have drawn a straight line between the point of impact and the gun's barrel, and realized that it deviated from the path that it would have followed had all other things been normal.

Of course, between a teleporting man dressed all in blue drawing a blade on another who could apparently change his voice and form at will... very little was normal.

Which was par for the course.

The tip of Vergil's katana kissed the man's throat. His arm was bent, applying pressure in a way that suggested that straightening could occur at any moment. Vergil narrowed his eyes.

"While killing those who do not meet your criteria is effective... leaving traces behind is never professional."

It had been a simple matter to sense the deformity the bullet made on the fabric of space, and only slightly harder to deform spacetime, and thus alter its course midflight so it missed him by a hair's breadth. He could have twisted space into taffy, or dislocated the bullet to to the base of his opponent's spine while still allowing it to maintain its velocity... but not trying to kill him with his own attack was simply a little courtesy.

And sometimes, a little went a long way.

[VA_Ninja]

What the hell is going on!?

Daniel sat with his back against the cart, quickly trying to make sense of the situation. Not much of it did. He noticed for the first time that world had become an ugly gray, save for maybe a half-dozen people or so. That strange man had become someone entirely different in a matter of seconds, and his rapid shot should have killed that other man in blue. The transformations, the teleportation, clothing, coincidences, revolvers and swords.

This whole thing seemed like a video game developers acid trip. Yet he couldn't help but feel that the more things changed, the more familiar it became...

[Darth SS]

Greg didn't jump or anything. He just looked at the new stand-off.

"I would not have predicted that."

[Cloud Strife]

Nick blinked. That was quick. Guess it wasn't as bad as I thought. He moved out of his hiding spot, slowly making his way towards the rest of them. He noticed that the woman he'd seen in the casino earlier was here... and in color. As he came up to her, he asked simply, "See this often?"

[Bob The Mercenary]

As the group watched, synapsis started firing in Zack's brain. He saw that only this small group was in color. He saw what power the two men seemed to weild. And he put two and two together.

He raised his hands slightly and looked down at them. Can I do this too? Could I have done this my entire life? What the heck is this?

He recovered from his daze and, against all reason and logic, decided to face the strangers, because he just had to know the answers to his questions. He started walking across the street when he heard the close sound of an engine screaming. Shooting a look right he saw a blur of red speeding towards him. No doubt another showoff out to prove something.

Zack hated people like this. He usually praised people who were more popular or rich than him, but he considered ones like these competition. They were the obstacles of his gauntlet through life. The one's who from the beginning were flinging shit in his direction.

But, he had no time to reflect on this burning hatred, he was about to die.

He started to run but tripped and fell, tearing his jeans and scratching his hands and knees. He looked towards the vehicle once more and caught the reflection of the sun hitting the headlights and blinding him. Not being able to see, he lifted up his hand towards the car and in desperation braced himself for what would inevitably result in his untimely demise.

And then...he felt something. It felt almost...electric. Yes, it was electricity. He felt as if he had just put his finger in an outlet. The surge raced through him and burned his mind. He panicked for a moment, but then relaxed as a new sensation blew through him. This time it felt like liquid...it was gasoline. He could smell it. It was so potent that it caused him to wince. He could feel the substance traveling through the car. He traced its path with his mind. Then, as both of these sensations were still fresh in him, he was struck with an idea. What if I combined them?

The moment this thought entered his mind, he felt the electricity cross through its wiring, no, through space itself and collide with the gas. The two sensations became one in Zack's mind as he felt the explosion hit his chest.

His hand was still raised as he was engulfed in flames.

[Funka Genocide]

ooc: where'd the red car come from Bob? I'm thinking it would be gray, due to the nature of the scene, other than that I'll go with it.

ic: The speeding vehicle was lifted in the air by the force of the explosion, it sailed harmlessly over the head of the astonished young man. The cataclysmic occurence seemed to draw the focus of the moment away from its prior inhabitance, the colors drained back into the world, and a red sports car lay over turned in the middle of the street, the pedestrians only now seeming to become aware of everything that was occuring.

The newly British gunman made a slight laugh, any more and he might have inadvertently slit his own throat. His hat had vanished somehow, in fact his entire villainous ensemble had been replaced by a tailored suit of light grey cotton. Somehow a lit ciggarrette had entered his mouth as well, the face remained the same though, much to the advantage of familiarity, which had been a bit put out by the recent metamorphosis.

While crowds of gawkers gathered like lost children at an FAO Schwartz in an old Christmas movie, a few had taken interest in the confrontation occuring by the news stand. The sensation of that many eyes upon him made Vergil uneasy, how long had it been since a uselessman had even glanced his way anyways?

"Well, since you've answered my question sufficiently, I suppose its only prudent for me to return the favor. Quid pro quo as it were." He moved his left hand slowly to his mouth, removing the smoking butt with his fore and index fingers. The smoke still curled upwards, forming an oddly grotesque halo about his head, still smelling not quite like a cigarette. "you're here, my good man, to die. Or rather, to begin the process of death, or more precisely... continue it. Thats all anyone's here for after all, to keep dying as the days go by." He smiled widely, this time an odd appeal had crept in, the new cowboy was far more handsome than the previous incarnation.

The onlookers had formed a small cheering section now, divided along lines of taste. Most seemed to be far more enamored with the car accident than the bravado session between an english gentleman and an oddly dressed man. A few cellphones flipped open with their tell tale tones going off like silent alarms in a bank. If this situation didn't resolve itself soon, the likelihood of Johnny Law sticking his nose into it.

And cops don't like being called away from their Crispie Cremes...

[Dante]

Vergil drew his weapon back, spun it end over end in a theatric flourish ,then returned it to its sheath, before stowing it in the depths of his coat. He met the cigarette-smoking man's smile with a blank face.

"So. We are bred to suffer and born to die - that much is certain. What can you tell me about my final exit?"

He cocked his head to one side. More was unnecessary to indicate the burning wreckage.

"And is this your work? Or is it even important?"

[Funka Genocide]

The cigarrette burned slower than it should have, no matter how many drags the eccentric performer took it never seemed to shorten, always just long enough for the visual impact.

"Oh, its not all so morbid as that my good man." His voice was colored in a darker shade when he spoke. "And I assure you, breeding has nothing to do with it, why my own parents where sheep herders from Stratford-on-Avon, at least as far as you know." no smile crossed his lips this time, only a coldly unblinking stare. "I'm not interested in finality, except in the meditation upon it..." The endless cigarrette burned on.

"Yet you ask me if this is my work, to be honest I didn't see this glorious little fiasco coming, its quite a shock to be certain." That devilish smile crept back into his handsome face. "No, its not my work, though you could rightly call it my business." with that inuendo he flicked the immortal cigarrette towards the wreckage of the car. The gasoline which had puddled on the street caught flame and prompted a secondary explosion, sending every Harry Dick and Sally still loitering about into a panic. They began to run screaming from the scene, trampling over eachother even though the street seemed all too wide. the actor seemed to grow somehow, not in the physical dimension, but his presence became more potent, more undeniable.

He raised his hands above his head as if attempting to hug the sky. he laughed deeply, breathed in the air as if it were the rarest perfume. "Can you smell that? taste it my good man!" He spun about wildly, madly as he breathed deeper and deeper, until eventually he doubled over and started coughing spasticly. His convulsive exhalation continued for a few seconds until he coughed up something horrible and black.

"You know those things cause cancer, don't you?" The voice was melodious, deep and savory, it sounded like cheesecake tasted. It emanated from a man leaned against an old Chevrolet. He had a guitar case strapped to his back, and wore what appeared to be a blue swede suit... and shoes to match.

The actor recovered and wiped his mouth daitily with a silken handkerchief. He said nothing, only stared fixedly at the man, who appeared to be none other than the King Himself.

"Never thought I'd see you speechless, its a good look for you." That same smooth as butter voice said.

"I think we'd best continue this conversation Elsewhere" the actor said, emphasizing the word elsewhere in such a manner one might think it meant something specific.

"Uh huh, hey there little lady, you've got my keys dont you?" Elvis asked to a sharply dressed woman on the side of the road.

[Bob The Mercenary]

Zack opened his eyes, now blackened from the blast of heat. He had the look of a deer in headlights. His focus was still at the road where the car had originated from. He sat motionless on his hand and knees, with his right hand still raised.

He still couldn't quite comprehend what had just taken place. Somehow, he had the suspicion that he was at fault for the car's explosive end. But, no, that can't be. He brought his right hand slowly back towards himself and stared at it for what seemed like an eternity.

Words escaped him as his thoughts turned to the occupants of the vehicle. His hand began to shake. In fact, his entire body was trembling. Did I just kill someone? A father? A mother? A whole family? His eyes filled with tears as he clenched a fist. Am I responsible for a murder?

He could feel the sugary contents of his stomach congeal as he grew more panicked. The stress of the situation went to his gut and seemed to play football with it. His stomach started to convulse inside of him until, finally, his breakfast was laying on the asphalt in front of him...in a slightly digested state.

[Archbio]

Janet Weir turned to follow the automobile apparition, legs moving again before the speeding vehicle had even passed her, before she was done facing the other way down the sidewalk. That sharp swerve, the pace that follows, even faster than her usual speed but still not (never) running, would have given the impression that she had been hit, then drawn into the car's magnetic wake.

The car had traced the right way to go, for now, and she had no pause of mind or body, even as a pale greyness washed briefly down the street and around her, like smoke rising up in the sky only to be obliterated by unfaltering winds. On its tail came one explosion, then another one, and the waves of their heat added itself to that of the ambient air and came breaking themselves around Janet Weir, where she had just stopped.

Where she was, where she needed to be. The two were the same for her. Water trickled down the back of her arm which held the keys tightly in its fist, and out of her sleeve. Cool water, not sweat: the nearby blaze from the wreck was powerless even at this distance.

She raised that fist, eyes focused on Elvis and seemingly aware of little else, not bothering to open her hand as a kind of proof: "I have. I wasn't aware you needed them." And that was true.

[Darth SS]

Greg stepped out and said, "As much as I would love to watch this twisted british version of Dukes of Hazzard, can someone answer a few questions for me?"

He coughed politely, then yelled, "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"

Then he returned his normal polite self and said, "That will be all."

[Cloud Strife]

"Nope, no problem with any of you, no problem at all," Nick remarked sarcastically. Geez, what a bunch of crazies, he thought. Don't they know how fun it can be?

"You all need to lighten up a little. And by a little, I mean a lot. You people take everything too seriously."

[VA_Ninja]

"Holy shit, that ruled!"
Daniel leaped from behind his hiding spot with added flourish a looked at the huge car wreckage with delightful amuzement. The second explosion made him giddy with excitement. Quite an impressive show that wasn't seen every day.

He was disturbed from the accident by the retching of a man beside him. It took a moment to register, but he was soon recognized as one of the colored people in the gray world as well as the one at point blank of the first explosion. He kneeled down in an attempt to ease him.

"You doing okay there, man? That was some fireworks display, and you with front row seating! Did you cause all that? Damn, that's impressive."

His attention quickly shifted again to the three men who seemed to be the current focus of attention aside from the metal bonfire behind him; The video game man he had recognized before, an oddly dressed actor of some sort, and...

No, it couldn't be...

Elvis?

[Bob The Mercenary]

Zack let his thoughts trail off as he answered the guy who had spoken to him. "Heh, guess I did cause that. I'm glad you're happy at least."

He stood slowly and looked around. The world was still that same damn shade of grey. Maybe if I move my hands around the world'll turn back to normal. Hey, I just blew up a car. He waved his hands around slowly, so as not to look stupid in front of the onlookers.

Nothing happened.

He shrugged and looked to the others for an answer. Before he turned away, he caught the man's shoes in the corner of his eye. They were tied together. "Wow, I did that without even thinking."

[Funka Genocide]

Elvis turned to Janet and replied "I don't, you do. Take that car and ride on out of here missy, and take all your friends with you" He gestured dramaticly to the small congregation of people still left at the scene after the secondary explosion. None of which could rightly be called her friends.

His wave indicated an odd bunch: A man dressed in clothes which seemed to be purposefully ostentatious, a blue vest and an overcoat, his hair was stark white and he wore the visage of a man who had seen this all before, he wore a soul which seemed to prove his faces claim.

A stalwart looking bald man with an air of frustration around him, and a past filled with unfulfilled dreams.

A vibrant young man with a devil may care attitude looking about excitedly, no trace of trepidation in his unlined face, a well of untapped fear in his heart.

A confused college student with the look of a newly born god, amazed at his own existence, unaware of his destiny.

An aloof gambler who couldn't seem to lose a smirk off his handsome face, even though his soul raged against his complacence.

and even though he sat behind a glass window, an astonished academic who seemed to be taking all this commotion quite well

She had witnessed the machinations of fate before, she had for a time, walked with an incarnation of it through a glassy desert wasteland, it whispered to her now in a voice as quiet as a raindrop...

and as undeniable as a thunderclap.

"Go now with them, and don't look back"

[Darth SS]

Greg didn't need to be told twice. He hopped into the car and said, "Less ride."

[VA_Ninja]

Daniel clasped the man next to him on the back with hearty cheer.
"Well we're not going to do much just standing here, now are we?" He stopped, took a dramatic wiff through his nose, and gave an easing sigh. "You smell that? That's the smell of destiny, of adventure. Something big is about to happen, I can tell. I could always tell. You, me, everyone," he mimicked Elvis's grand gesture, "we're all here together, and it looks like it's going to stay that way."

Cheesy monologues. A common fault of his.

"Let's rock this thing!" Daniel shouted and started to run. Suddenly tripping over his own laces, he found himself flung facefirst toward hard black gravel. Instinct took over, concentrating for but a split second, Daniel landed with his nose against the now pillowy ground. Falling unto something hard was a chief concern of a daredevil such as himself, which he trained his unique talents to compensate for. Turning over he looked back at the man he once stood by a pointed a joking finger in his direction with an appreciating smile on his face.

"You're a sly one bud. I'm keeping my eye on you." He set down his hand into something. Something disgusting. He looked down at his hand, laying in a messy pile of stomach contents.

"Son of a..."

[Cloud Strife]

Nick was grinning. "Now THAT was funny!"

"Anyway, don't really care too much about all this, but hey, you don't argue with the King in Vegas, eh?" Nick clambered into the back of the Chevy.

[My Lead Airbag]

Job calmly walked out of the Denny's, forgetting the probably unneeded tip, and went into the car without a word. He had watched FLCL. He read Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy. An Elvis who rode up in a magic Chevy and commanded a mysterious woman to take you hell knows where with a gangly group from the outskirts of all known reality right after the world had gone Pleaseantville for a second wasn't that hard to comprehend.

Besides, everyone experimented in college right?

[Archbio]

Weir gave a nod to The King, aware of another layer of urgency for their (the human cargo she had just been entrusted with) departure than the one caused by the, still rather mundane, mess that surrounded them.

She made her way around the car to the driver side door, leaning in to start the engine. Being already familiar with the vehicle's capricious ignition through handling its keys several minutes, it went without a hitch. Then, not minding those already aboard, she pushed herself halfway out again, one foot on the pavement, one hand on the open door.

Her eyes cycled around to stop a moment on the white haired one, then down on the man lying face down in the street, then up again on the last one, noting his air of confusion. There was no sign of impatience in her voice: "You will have time to think later."

[VA_Ninja]

Daniel looked over his shoulder to the woman calling at them, then turned back to the man in front of him.

"Looks like our mistress needs us eh?" He bagan untieing and retieng his shoelaces, "Better not keep the little lady waiting."

His shoes properly tied and his hand mostly clean of filth, he stood back up. He looked with an odd respect to the man he'd recently met. Something about him he liked.

"By the way, the name's Daniel. Daniel Savage." He gave the man a dramatic bow. "Extreamest Extrordinare."

Finished with his intro, he calmly walked the car the others had gathered by. Vegas sure is an interesting city.

[Darth SS]

Greg had recently come to grasp with the recent situation. Reality, it would seem, was not as stable as he'd once thought.

And, apparently, people's belief in Elvis ensured he lived on. But did this mean that the collective belief in something that would steal single socks, or your keys make it real?

He looked at his feet and saw a miniature purple elephant with a rainbow mohawk trying to eat his socks. Calmly, he picked it up and said, "I'm going to name you Buddy."

Following that, he tried to decide whether or not to throw it out the car.

[Funka Genocide]

The capacity of the car seemed to be six, three in the front and three in the back, although you could probably squeeze four in the back.

How odd, that seven people should be driving around Vegas in an old Chevy?

"You always do this kind of shit, Presley" the actor said grumpily. He eyed the passengers warily beore returning his gaze to the king. "Fine, whatever, its just the beginning anyways, I'll see this thing through to the end."

Elvis drew his guitar and began to play a tune, the melody hit everyone like a brick, it was striking, though unrecognisable. If you asked any of them to play it again, they'd have forgotten what it sounded like, but for now they were all adrift on a sea of dischordant notes, the real world faded and the odd pair of... what were they anyways? Elvis was dead right?

Goodbye Vegas.

Even those who had not found their way into the vehicle awoke inside of it. It was night time wherever they were, and windy. It only took a few moments for them to realize they were on top of a sky scraper in an unknown city, well unknown to most of them anyways.

Buddy the sock eating elephant had crawled onto the dashboard and was tugging away at Vergils socks when he woke up. He had no idea why they were all here, in Tokyo of all places.

[Cloud Strife]

Nick groggily awoke to the night sky. "Woah... what the...?" He opened the side door and got out, feeling the wind hit him. "Man, where are we?" He went towards the small wall, and when he looked over, he looked down... and down... and down...

"Okay, that's a long drop." Nick looked around, hoping to get some sort of clue as to where they might be, some sort of landmark.

[VA_Ninja]

Daniel awoke with a yawn and a long, catlike stretch. Smaking his lips, he casually walked over to the rooftop railing. Looking down, his eyes lit with excitement from the perilous drop. He hopped up unto the railing to get a better look down, then turned on the ball of his foot back toward everyone who followed.

"Hey guys, I think we're in Japan or somethin'," he called out. "There's a buncha signs with those weird symbol thingies."

[Darth SS]

"They're called Kanji," muttered a yawning Greg. He was standing near the edge of the building. Apparently, they were now in Tokyo.

"This is an interesting predicament."

Greg fumbled around in his jacket, then handilly produced a package of gum. Watermelon bubblicious.

"Ah...watermelon, you'll never dissapoint."

[Cloud Strife]

"Ah, so that's where we're at. Okay."

Nick turned back to the other two that had woken up already. "Looks like we're in for some kind of fun, eh? And since it seems we're gonna be seein' more of each other... name's Nick. Nick Granger."

[VA_Ninja]

"How do you do Nick? Call me Daniel Savage."

Daniel ran his fingers through his thick hair and looked over the railing again, admiring the distance.

"Sure is a long way, eh? Better hope we've got an elevator, otherwise we'll have to take the hard way down..."

[Darth SS]

"Wouldn't be so bad. Until impact that is."

Greg stepped away from the edge, and said, "Greg Daniels. P.I."

OOC: If that isn't his last name...it is now.

[Cloud Strife]

"Cool stuff," Nick said as he looked towards the Chevy again. "I'm thinkin' we should wake them up, y'know?" He walked over to the truck and opened the driver's side door, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder and shook her gently. "Hey, y'might want to wake up, ma'am. We're in Japan."

[Bob The Mercenary]

Zack couldn't really sleep. He was up for most of the night experimenting with his newly discovered skills by randomly waving his hands about. In the brief time they had spent traveling, he had created a shooting star, a rainstorm, a blizzard, and a small gust of wind. All of which were made through sheer chance. He still had no clue why he could do what he could do, or how to control what he was doing, so he laid back in his seat and looked towards the others. "So, where are you all from? I'm from Jersey, originally."

[Archbio]

Janet Weir started awake at the shaking, and sat sideways in the driver's seat, feet finding the rooftop. She felt lightheaded, and could just repeat that last word, in the form of a question.

"Japan?"

She stepped out of the car, leaving the man that woke her to step back or be bumped into, and her first impulse then was to look up at the sky. The metropolis' light faded them, but Weir could still see the stars.

She saw enough of them to realize this wasn't the sky she knew. There was no need for her to look over the side of the roof to confirm they were, in effect, in Japan. In Japan, where she was cut off from everything she had built in the desert, in Las Vegas, in her home. Everything she had learned to use and read. What could she do here?

"What did that old singing fool do..."

[Cloud Strife]

Nick jumped back a bit when she started awake suddenly. "Woah, ma'am, calm down!"

As she clambered out and looked around, he heard her words.

"I'm not really sure, m'self. But hey, this could be fun, so I'm gonna enjoy it, I think."

Nick turned to the kid that had asked where everyone was from. "I'm from Southern Idaho... there never was much to do there..."

[Archbio]

Weir smiled as she heard this, and saw her own response to it. She noted aloud anyway, without turning: "Wherever you are, there is something to do." Even if it is just moving on or staying put, she added in thought just for her own benefit. "Originally, I'm from Lewiston, up Snake River."

Taking her wallet out of her vest, she opened it, watching a row of japanese currency fanning within it. It was good to know some things were still in order.

[Cloud Strife]

Nick couldn't help but grin. "Lewiston? You're kidding me, I lived in Spalding!"

OOC: For those of you that don't know, Spalding is a small town that's quite close to Lewiston.

Though it's funny, Lewiston is only about 100 miles from where I actually live. o_O

BIC: "Anyway, we're gonna need some money to get to wherever we're supposed to be getting to. I suggest we get down to ground level first, though, before we really do anything."

[Archbio]

(OOC: I had no idea)

Weir plucks a handful of bills from her now creaking wallet, and presents it: "Money is no object, altough I would not know how much these are actually worth."

[Dante]

Sleep?

That was interesting. He didn't remember falling asleep.

Vergil looked down. A curious little animal, purple in colour and resembling an elephant, was chewing on a sock of his. The white-haired man let it continue for a few moments, then reached down to pick it up.

Buddy looked up at Vergil's eyes, and froze. The man studied its shocked expression... and smiled.

"Go bother someone else now, little one."

He set Buddy down on the lap of the person beside him and looked around. He was in a car. With half a dozen other people. None of them looked hostile.

And judging by the skyline, they were at least a hundred meters above the ground, on a Tokyo night. He remembered the strange smoking man, the sudden explosion on the street, even Elvis appearing in person before them.

He wanted answers, but he didn't think he'd be getting them soon.

[Cloud Strife]

Nick noticed that the strangely dressed man had woken up. "Well, I see you finally came arou... what the hell is that thing?" Nick was referring to the tiny purple elephant... thing that was currently sniffing at the socks of the other man that had yet to wake up.

[Darth SS]

Greg whistled and said, "Buddy! Come here."
Buddy obediently hustled over to Greg, who picked him up.

"Long story short, after albino over there dodged the bullet, I thought 'hey this is like the matrix. Maybe belief defines reality, so if I believed that there was something that ate singular socks and other small trinkets that would mean it would exist.' And voila, Buddy came into existance. I'm not sure, but I think we have to feed him loose change and socks."

[Cloud Strife]

"Ooookay... You just keep it away from my socks, y'hear? I rather like my socks."

"Anyway... money isn't a problem, as we can see, so let's just get down from here. Though someone will have to bring him along," Nick said, jerking a thumb at the one that hadn't woken up yet (MLA's character). "I don't know him, but it just ain't right to leave someone unconcious in a car on top of a roof in Japan, y'know?"

[Darth SS]

"You never know. Stranger things has obviously just happened."

Greg checked his wallet for any foreign currency. Just american greenback. Damn.

[Cloud Strife]

"Good point. Well," Nick said, picking up the kid piggyback style, "let's get going." He headed for the roof's door. Looking back at them, he said, "Well, you coming or not?"

[VA_Ninja]

"Might as well," said Daniel, striding over to the roof door. "Not like I got anything better to do on a Tokyo skyscraper."

Not at the moment anyways...

[Dante]

Vergil willed himself out of the car and suddenly he was standing outside. He walked to the edge and looked around.

Lights were everywhere. Moving ones marked the roads that served as the arteries of traffic. Still ones represented the tapestry of life in the big city. Looming darkness in the horizon. The mountains he remembered meditating in.

And of course, a whole lot of down.

[Darth SS]

"Okay, that right there? That whole vanishing thing? That was unexpected."

Greg followed the others.

[Cloud Strife]

"You'll get used to it," Nick said as he opened the door. He'd seen it plenty of times with the Demons and Seraphs that had come into contact with him. "Now c'mon, all of ya. It's getting boring up here."

[Funka Genocide]

The night wind grew calm around the bewildered tavellers. The ever present glow from the streets below shone upwards. The roof top was rather spacious, with a large sign pointing from both the east and west sides. Iin the middle of the roof was a door which most likely led to a stairwell. If they wanted to go down, that was most likely the way to go about it.

The car would have to stay behind it seemed.

[Cloud Strife]

Nick took a look down the stairwell. It was a long, long way down. This would take a while. Well, he wouldn't be doin' anythin' by just sittin' here. He started down the stairs, the muffled sound of sneaker on metal echoing off of the cement walls.

[Darth SS]

Greg followed Nick, Buddy hot on his heels.

"You know, I'd suggest sliding down this or jumping from side to side...but from this high, that'd just be stupid."

[VA_Ninja]

"WHEEEEEEE!"

Daniel zoomed past, sliding down the side rails with speed and awkward grace, his coat forming a leather trail behind him.

[Cloud Strife]

"Actually, that would save time, Greg."

Nick concentrated, then jumped and kicked off of the wall, sailing over the railings and the space between them to land on the next stairwell down. Looking up and grinning, he said, "C'mon, it's not that hard." He then continued jumping down the stairwell in a similar fashion, being careful not to hit his head on the bottom of the staircase above him.

[Darth SS]

"You know, one of you is going to slip and then break your skull open. And I won't help you. It was your own stupidity that got you into it in the first place."

Greg continued down the stairs in a normal fashion.

[Cloud Strife]

Now several flights of stairs below the others, Nick stopped and muttered, "Oh, hell with it."

Setting down the kid carefully, he stood up and concentrated. He didn't do this much, so it still took him time. He imagined what it looked like, at the top of the stairwell, taking in all the details. With a burst of will, he opened his eyes and found that he was indeed at the top of the stairs. Grinning, he called down to Greg. "Look," he said, "you're going to have to start taking risks if you want to get anywhere in life, Greg. You have this power, it was given to you for some reason. I don't know my reason yet, but I do know that I'm going to have fun while trying to find that out. So c'mon, would ya? Live a little!"

With that, he repeated the process, and teleported back down next to the kid, right where he'd left him. Picking him up, he continued jumping down the flights.

[Archbio]

Weir had stopped a moment longer on the roof. Taking another look around the night's sky, she spoke one line from a song:

"Eight miles straight up,
downtown,
somewhere."

Then, she went in. Her pace as she climbed down the stairs could also have been called normal, it was even a bit on the stroll side: she was in no hurry to arrive to the surface, and was content to follow and see where the others were going, for now.

[Darth SS]

"Okay, I don't know what power you're talking about. And would people please stop violating my perception of reality?"

Greg shook his head and kept going.

[Dante]

Their antics bored him. They were new of the power and were lucky that there were no observers but themselves around.

Vergil adjusted his watch again. Then he opened the door...

...and stepped out of the one at the long stairway's base. The cold street air filled his lugns, and he leaned against a nearby wall as he waited for them to stop playing.

[Funka Genocide]

While the group made their way down the stair case an even odder group had begun to assemble at its base. Dante could see them amassing across the street in a dark alley way, shadows somehow darker than the dirty streets they seemingly sprung from. They seemed to be men, or at least manlike, as they ambled about in the darkness.

near the top of the stair case, janet felt she needed to be at the bottom, she felt a pang of urgency. The others felt something too, but they were at a loss to describe exactly what it was, a nagging at the back of their minds. An impending something, that f they could just reach a little further would be made clear.

The shadowy group left the alley and began to make its way towards Vergil. They were dressed in black raggedy cloaks, all their faces obscured by hoods. They all seemd to look about nervously from side to side, almost paranoid.

They were getting closer...

[Dante]

OOC: Make up your mind, Funka. Am I Vergil or Dante? :D

Vergil folded his arms and leaned lightly against the wall. He closed his eyes of flesh, but his mind's eye reached out, and he sensed them as they neared, shifting points on a three-dimensional map of the surroundings, the ripples of their approaching existence disturbing the hitherto serene fabric of existence.

He prepared to call his weapon to him. It seemed prudent.

[Funka Genocide]

ooc: well, normally I would take full credit for my slip up, but you're the one who named your character and his brother after not only your user name, but the same game that currently owns my soul! I can't be held respnsible for this madness!

sorry... :)


ic: There wasomething irregular in these creatures physical forms, at a glance they appeared to be of normal size for a mna, yet they left trails of motion behind them is much larger areas. They seemed to have a much greater mass than they would apper, a greater permanence, substance.

That was true of most demons, part of them existed Elsewhere most of the time. Yet one could feel the ripples in space time if one knew how to look.

[Cloud Strife]

As Nick reached the bottom of the stairs, he sensed something... unusual outside. Concerned, he placed the kid behind the bottom stairwell. It was then that it hit again. That nagging pain at the base of his neck.

Something was out there. And Nick meant to find out what.

He cautiously came out of the bottom door and immediately noticed the forms heading towards him and Vergil. Somethin' wasn't right about them. Something... sinister.

Nick prepared himself for a fight, if necessary.

[VA_Ninja]

Daniel's mind slowly became muddled. There was something here that was messing up his concentration. Something that had no place being here.
He noticed the men beside him were assuming a battle stance. His eyes followed their stare, coming upon strange cloaked figures. They moved as a colossus, yet were sized as men. The disturbance he had felt seemed to stem from these creatures. The silent language spoken by his surroundings told of an inevitable clash between men and...things.

He lit up a fag and took a nervous drag from it. His actual fighting skills were little, however, he had often imitated movies and games. What he lacked in physical ability, he made up with instinct and the supernatural at his will.

[Archbio]

Janet Weir waited until she had reached the first landing down from the roof to pay attention to the impression goading at her mind, pushing her to go faster. Still, she stopped. She had to be down there, and she had to be down there now.

But here, far from Vegas, the balance had shifted against her, and she felt that what was down there wasn't harmless happenstance. How could she face what she was beginning to be sure was a cusp, and a potentially perilous one at that? The fact that she was also practically blind to the events unfolding wasn't helping, either.

What could she use? As she wondered, her hands did too, searching her suit for helpful things. Her hands closed on a little packet wrapped in cloth. There were some things she always carried with her, fortunately.

Taking her clenched fist out of her vest, she begun muttering a simple incantation, a few syllables, repeating them over and over again; inaudibly for the most part.

A shadow then lept from her feet, in defiance of the electric illumination, and coursed down the stairs. The darkness took on a shape as it passed the others and sprinted out of the door at the very bottom. That shape didn't seem entierely unfamiliar. Out of its quasi-substance, the cut a suit, identical to Weir's, could be recognized. As it planted itself just outside of the door, facing the creeping figures, its hands, as it held its arms akimbo, could bee seen to be mere skeletal frames. Even in the night the presence of the shadow could be felt, immensily sepulchral and radiating emptiness.

One of its hands was clenched into a fist.

[Darth SS]

Greg, however, felt an odd compulsion to put his hand around the rosary he always carried in his pocket.

He had the willies. That usually foretold trouble.

[Funka Genocide]

At the arrival of the shadow Weir, the creatures screamed in unison. An earsplitting, unearthly cry which spoke of eternities of torment and that was simply the physical component of it. These things were as a poem of hate constantly being recited, a walking, breathing liturgy of pain encompassed in tattered rags and...

rotting flesh.

They screamed even louder as they expanded, growing to several times their original size in a few heartbeats. Drawing substance from the ether, becoming the monsters they truely were. Their very existence foretold of deadly intents, their bony clawed hands spoke even louder.

Vergil knew they would not be able to maintain such a state of manifestation for very long, these were the mongrel dogs of the netherworld, vicious in packs yet easily cowed alone, and nearly mindless intheir mental capacities. These things were not the real threat he mused, then brought his mind back to the present.

yes they were, for now at least...

[Dante]

Seemingly oblivious to the change in the approaching creatures, Vergil closed his eyes, and folded his arms. One of his hands was holding the same katana he had used in Las Vegas. He held against his body, the long yellow ribbon running from its saya rippling in an ethereal wind.

Very softly, very calmly, he spoke.

"Hayaku kaeru zo, kisama-tachi ga. Ano gumin-tachi wa kisama-tachi no karimono wa nai."

[Darth SS]

Greg continued down the stairs, wondering what the screaming was.

"Okay, why won't people ever just shut up? If I can hear you from 10 stories up, you're obviously too loud."

[Cloud Strife]

Nick smirked. They were big, sure, but they lacked any real cognizance. They were dangerous when encounted while alone, but there were several people here.

Nick cracked his knuckles, loudly. Each crack seemed to send a shockwave through his body. When he finished, he seemed to have a light glow about him. He smirked again as he put up his fists, boxer style.

This should be fun.

*******************

Zack heard the screams, and thinking that something was wrong, he hurried down the steps. As he reached the doorway, he was about to ask what was wrong when he saw the creatures. He looked at them in shock. The living dead were before him. He had not expected this.

Zack shook his head to clear it. Get it together... Concentrating through the piercing screams they were emitting, he sharpened his focus... and his sight. The little glass shards in his eyes glinted. His Perfect sight was in effect, a sort of precognitive ability that let him see just slightly into the future. The zombies shouldn't be able to touch him now.

He prepared a defense to get rid of a few of these demon things. He was sure they wouldn't see it coming.

[Dante]

"Ashes to ashes..."

Vergil's left arm fell, lowering the katana to his side. He thumbed the crosspiece of his weapon, exposing an inch of polished metal. It gleamed brightly in the moonlight.

"Dust to dust..."

His duster flared out with the speed of his draw. The sword's path was visible only as a crescent of opalescent light, mirroring the crescent moon that shone down on him. The creatures closest to him suddenly stopped in their tracks. Ttheir cacophonous wailing cut off, and their faces were fixed in dumb stupefaction. as though stunned that by the fact that he had simply flicked his weapon out to cut nothing but air.

Vergil had not moved from his spot.

The tip of his weapon touched the slot in its sheath. Dante drew both hands parallel and slowly sheathed the blade, pausing only when an inch of steel remained exposed.

"The Lord giveth..."

The blade clicked home. Instantly, multiple slashes exploded across the bodies of the frozen creatures. Heads, arms, legs and torsos tumbled to the ground as though spilling from a torn sack of produce.

"But I taketh away."

Vergil folded his arms again, waiting for the others to make a move.

[VA_Ninja]

Daniel just began getting over the initial shock of seeing the undead creatures unveil their true forms. He would not have much time before the were upon him, needed a plan.

What works against the undead? Daniel pondered, reflecting on every zombie movie he'd seen. Normally a shotgun or a chainsaw would do it, but nothing like that here. Can't get holy water from a church. What can I possibly...

"Fire..."

Daniel flicked up his recently lit cigarette, pointed it toward the demons, and gave it a gentle tap. He concentrated, guiding the small embers across the air, feeding the flames with his will. The stream of fire grew until striking a nearby monster. Engulfing the creature within the fires from his makeshift flamethrower, Daniel couldn't help but smile.

[Cloud Strife]

Seeing the flames spreading over the monsters, Zack decided it would be best to utilize his plan now. He concentrated on the ground around and under the monsters. If he had a say on reality...

The monsters suddenly disappeared from sight, a splash emenating from the spot where the monsters had been, the sidewalk and street in that area rippling as if they were water. Zack smiled and concentrated, turning it back to its original state. The monsters were under 10 feet of earth, concrete, and asphalt. I hope that holds 'em.


Nick sighed and let the energy he had built up dissapate. Oh well, he thought. There's always next time.

[Funka Genocide]

As the ground settled back into normalcy, a brief moment of silence settled in. Followed by a violent burst of air. Hurricane force gales accosted the narrow alleyway and something shimmered behind the swirling debris. A crack of thunder sounded and a spherical darkness began to grow. A moment later the street was filled with an even greater force of monstrocities.

One flew towards the shadow Weir still manifested at the doorway. Three dove for Vergil in a maddened ferocity, decayed bodily fluids dripping everywhere.

[Archbio]

Weir the shadow had slumped backwards, arms hanging down, in the atonic pose of a skeleton awaiting impulse. It marvelled at the speed with which the others dispatched the first wave of carrions as it stood and watched.

Then, as the renewed horde charged and one of the creatures singled it out, it realized just how much the original, diplomatic plan Weir had formulated before sending it had been invalidated by the dispositions of both groups. Mostly the disposition of these netherworld beasts (how could they have reacted positively to a mortal's shadow in any way?), but Weir would have to keep a closer eye on the white haired one.

The shadow flung its arm, throwing the satchel at the approaching creature, and ducked down as soon as it hit and burst open, a cloud of powder expanding from the point of impact. The darkness didn't seek to evade the deadly being as it went through the veil of dust, but instead launched itself to meet the corrupted hulk, passing between its talons and tackling it.

There was no blow struck, and the figure of coherent darkness was gone from sight. Infiltrating the beast's physical form, it took its place within, struggling against the mindless will and coursing like venom. Outside, the body shrunk as the alien component eclipsed the Elsewhere source, robbing the whole of its strenght.

The shadow would talk and listen when it had taken control.

[Dante]

Vergil opened an eye as they clsoed on him. Then there was the strangest feeling of the world going ping, and suddenly, the leaping creatures slowed to a crawl, as though their pounce had been recorded in slow motion and played back.

In his eyes, the three of them blurred, then merged into one. Vergil went down into a sword-drawing stance. A blinding flash later, he was past the beasts, who were still caught in mid-air.

He sheathed his weapon. Suddenly the zombies were moving again... or msot of them, at least. Their heads were still hanging in space. What remained of their necks terminated abruptly in a long, neat cut, two inches below the jawline. Each one of them had been decapitated in the same way.

The rotting bodies hit the alley with the sound of a bag of dried leaves. Vergil snapped his fingers and the heads fell, rolling around like obscene coconuts.

[Funka Genocide]

ooc: what is everyone else doing right now? there are still about a half dozen left, minus the one Weir has possessed.

[Cloud Strife]

Even with his Perfect Sight in effect, Zack had been caught a little off guard. He instinctively jumped back into the building, and scrambled for something to fight back with.

Nick had been completely off guard when the second wave of them attacked. "Damn!" he yelled, quickly dodging one of the forms as it lunged over his head. Great, now I'm surrounded! Nick needed to think fast, or he was toast. An idea formed in his mind, something a seraph had taught him after she'd lost a game of Omaha Hi/lo split to him.

As the beast landed, turned around and lunged towards Nick again at inhuman speeds, Nick ran... right towards one of the other beasts. Please let this work...

The demon beast that Nick had ran towards swung at Nick, just as the other one was closing in quickly on the lunge. The milisecond that the 2nd beast connected to Nick, he employed the trick. A flash within his mind, and he and the 2nd beast had switched places. Nick immediately rolled out of the way as the 1st beast landed on the 2nd one's back, claws first. Now Nick was on the street, and a bit more prepared for the rest of them.

[Funka Genocide]

ooc: still waiting on the other guys reactions, I'll give it another day and then I'll post something no matter what!

*cue Darth Vader theme song*