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Witch Hunt [IC]


trollthumper

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Push simply nodded, having gained a new respect for the young woman. He quickly strode over, being careful not to disrupt the crime scene, and swung his leg over his bike yet again.

"Seems like a plan, then. Off the top of my head, though, we should probably concern ourselves with three things. One, we really should keep Vigourie from finding out that three of the investigators in this case are wielders of the arcane, at least, not until he leaves. If he did find out, he'd raise hell about it, and we really don't need that complication right now. Two, Sheriff, it's confirmed there are eldrich forces at work here. If you could take some time, I'd like to hammer out an emergency plan in case things do go bad, evacuation, safe zones, etc. I'm not expecting them to, but we're better off prepared, I have seen things get really bad before, and we'll quite possibly save more lives that way if we do get outfoxed. And three, I'm about to kill somebody myself if I don't get a cup of the holy mocha."

He spoke clinically and professionally, taking his keys out and slotting them in the bike's ignition, before turning his head back.

"So we pick up the trail back in town then?"

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"Thelema," said Equinox, standing up from the ground. She still held on to the trail, feeling the slime and viscera over her feet and hands, sliding across her legs and torso. "It's Aleister Crowley's take on Hermetic philosophy, where a magus moves past little things like service, even to morality, and to personal identity, and becomes a 'power'. He uses the term "City or Pyramids" for where these transcended adepts reside. The layman'd probably know him as the man who popularised pretentious misspellings of the word magic."

"They'd also know him as one of the originators of Satanism," Eric said. "At least as a philosophical construct. One's will above all, imposed on the universe, breaking the chains of old. Not servitude, but triumph. A bit different from the 'eternal contract with infernal masters', but it's still a big association."

"You said something about a contract," Durand said. "So it's possible one of these... Thelemists... summoned up a demon?"

"Definitely," he said. "No one ever accused demon summoners of being humble. Especially Goetic demons; there, it's less, 'I pledge eternal service to you, my master' and more, 'Dance for me, my puppet.'" He shook his head. "In any case, we probably should get back into town. If we can figure out where the demon's hiding, we can sunder the bond."

---

Meanwhile, back in town...

Jolene's parents were somewhat amazed to find a hero at the door, but some kind words for Gabriel -- and a minute talking with their daughter -- and he was upstairs with her. Her bedroom was a quiet, precise place, with few adornments save for a bookshelf and a computer desk. The shelf was loaded with books by authors such as Lisle, King, Shakespeare... but a few tomes stood out. There were tomes on Celtic mythology, as well as a book by Gerald Gardner.

"What do you need to know?" Jolene asked. She was quiet, somewhat reserved, like she was still dealing with the impact of Harris's death.

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"This nose is nontransferable," he replied, shaking his head. "Sorry for the shock, ma'am." His return transformation was just as noiseless, and he put his coat back on as he changed back. He rubbed vigorously at his nose and made a particularly displeased face.

"I kinda figured it wasn't you." He nodded faintly at Equinox. "Good lord... I can still smell it. But I could probably recognize that perfume if I smelled it again. Definitely not gonna do that in town though. Not in plain sight anyway." Stepping outside the crime scene, Marcus was quick to remove the plastic covers on his boots and head. He eyed Push's bike for a moment... then shook his head and started walking. "To town it is, then."

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"They'd also know him as one of the originators of Satanism," Eric said. "At least as a philosophical construct. One's will above all, imposed on the universe, breaking the chains of old. Not servitude, but triumph. A bit different from the 'eternal contract with infernal masters', but it's still a big association."

"And, of course," said Equinox, temporarily suppressing the spell she maintained to keep a lower profile than she was currently keeping, "He's one of the pain in the asses using inverted pentagrams and giving us all a bad name by contradicting the meaning of the thing."

As the light faded from her hands and eyes, she stepped away from the crime scene and snapped her fingers. In an instant, her hair turned a light brown, her costume fading into nothingness as a plain black t-shirt and jeans appeared in their place. She had a black leather jacket draped over her shoulders, and a navy blue neckerchief with white stars on it around her neck. "Ok... let's go back to town."

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---

Meanwhile, back in town...

Jolene's parents were somewhat amazed to find a hero at the door, but some kind words for Gabriel -- and a minute talking with their daughter -- and he was upstairs with her. Her bedroom was a quiet, precise place, with few adornments save for a bookshelf and a computer desk. The shelf was loaded with books by authors such as Lisle, King, Shakespeare... but a few tomes stood out. There were tomes on Celtic mythology, as well as a book by Gerald Gardner.

"What do you need to know?" Jolene asked. She was quiet, somewhat reserved, like she was still dealing with the impact of Harris's death.

Gabriel made sure to reassure the parents again that Jolene was in no trouble, and that he was merely trying to get a better picture of things. Currently, he was looking over the titles on her shelf, his voice somewhat distracted.

"You seem to be a prolific reader. That's good for someone your age."

He shook his head and turned to face Jolene. His expression somehow managed to mix "serious" with "compassionate".

"In the last week to month, did you notice Harris changing behavior patterns? Picking up interest in something he'd never touched before? Was he spending time with a notably different group? Was there anyone who showed up in his life that wasn't there before?

Basically, I'm trying to determine what changed. I need the best picture possible of the last week of his life, so that I can help find the person who did this."

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Jolene shook her head. "No," she said. "No, he was fine. He was..." She took a deep breath. "There was nothing new. Everything was okay. That was Will for you; he was always dependable. He was always there for me, even when I --" She paused ."-- when I got in that accident."

----

Meanwhile, back in town...

The scent of corruption and brimstone under perfume led down the main streets and back alleys of Stratford, weaving an elusive path.

"Do demons usually run everywhere?"

"No," Eric said. "They're usually like guided missiles -- go right for the target. This one's got a lot of experience to go to ground."

"That's not helping," she said. "So, let me ask you a question... how'd you get into magic?"

"I died."

"Oh."

"Well, it's not like it stuck..."

"That's not what I meant," she said. "I mean, is that... usually what it takes? Something like that?"

Nick paused. "No," he said. "Magic has many forms, and many initiations."

"So anyone can do it?"

"Sort of," he said. "It's like... music. Some people can pick up a guitar and play like Dick Dale, some people require a month to learn 'Chopsticks.' A lot of people have the potential; they just don't have the drive."

"Why?" Durand asked. "With everything that happens in the world -- the invasions, the wars, everything -- why don't more people take it up?"

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Push shrugged as he followed the group, his hammer slung across his back this time.

"Shouldn`t be that hard to figure out. Not everyone views the idea of magic sympathetically, Sheriff; hell, if it wasn`t for the fact that I`ve known some decent mages, with all the...well, let`s just say that I`m lucky I didn`t end up viewing the supernatural, especially magic, as something to be despised. Consider it, how many people in this town do you think would take up the kind of magic Eric or Equinox here wield, with the current knowledge they prob`ly have, or the religion they follow?"

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For several long moments, Gabriel was silent. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, not saying a word. When he did speak, his tone was grave, but not condemning.

"You know, I work with a lot of teenagers in Freedom City. Many of them enjoy few of the luxuries you have here; more than a few of them have made decisions that will haunt them for decades. You could say I've learned to read teenagers pretty well, as chaotic as their minds and hearts can be."

He narrows his eyes and takes a single step forward.

"Which is why I can tell you're lying. There was no "accident". Or if there was, it's not what the boy was helping you through. Now, you're a teenager. I'm an adult. Further, I'm one with rather blatant symbolism all over my costume, and even in my name. Perhaps that's causing you to make some assumptions. But I assure you one thing; so long as what you tell me isn't placing a life in danger, it will remain in total secrecy. I may suggest, even recommend that you tell another. But I won't force the issue unless it's truly dire. Understand that, while I am firm in my beliefs, it does not retract from my ability to respect others as human beings. I've worked with angels, revenants, geomancers, plant controllers, and fairly recently, several mages of varying philosophies. Just to name a few. I'd like to think I'm a nice person, even if I don't agree with someone's worldview."

He uncrossed his arms and held his hands in a gesture of supplication.

"So please. Be truthful with me. Not for your sake, or my sake. For Harris's sake. So that we can keep anyone else from dying, and so that we can stop whoever did this."

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"Magic can be... dangerous in the wrong hands. For a while, I couldn't really control this little trick I do either. First time it happened, I slung a guy across my living room. Broke another guy's collarbone. Don't get me wrong; I was trying to protect someone, but... that's really not much of an excuse." Marcus tapped his staff on his shoulder as they walked, eyes narrowed a bit as he remembered that night. The night AEGIS agents came and hauled his father off... and his ursine nature surfaced for the very first time. Much of that unfortunate event was blurry in Marcus's mind. He'd gotten so agitated that he literally went blind--so pissed he couldn't see straight, in a disturbingly literal sense. Since then he'd been more than a little apprehensive about getting violent; the Beast Rune fed on aggression, after all, and thus far, he'd done a decent job of reining it in.

"From what I can tell, my magic comes from my dad. He couldn't control his either and... stuff happened. Bottom line is, if you can't control yourself, controlling magic isn't gonna be a walk in the park. Just the thought of a bunch of undisciplined yahoos slinging fireballs all over the place..." Marcus shuddered a bit at the thought. He made a mental note to get back to Eric about the whole 'dying' thing.

"...and who the heck is Dick Dale?"

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"Surf rock pioneer. Guy who did 'Misirlou,' a.k.a, that song at the start of Pulp Fiction. Man, what are they teaching you in school?" Nick turned to Durand. "Magic... you have to understand, when you work magic, you open your mind up to new possibilities... and with them, new certainties. When you open up to magic, you open up to the fact that all the things you believe in -- gods, devils, good, evil -- become real and tangible. And there's a part of some people that doesn't instantly accept such a thing."

"That's crap," Durand said. "I know cops who deal with 'good and evil' every day --"

"Human evil," Nick said. "Stuff that's still tempered by rationales, petty and weak as they may be. Magic means opening your mind to the idea that there are some things in the universe that represent the darkest of human thought -- with no other reason than 'because.'" He paused. "Of course, with that comes the understanding that there are things of beauty out there. Things of wonder, utter grace and kindness... but with that comes the fear of being found unworthy in the hands of higher beings. Fear's a heavy guard for people.. and you know, I really can't knock them for it."

Before Durand could answer, her radio cracked to life. "Sheriff," Malloy's voice said over the crackling band, "there's something going on at the First Presbyterian Church. We got a strange call that cut out a few seconds in, and a patrol car says all the lights are out."

"What was the call about?"

"Er... someone laughing, Sheriff."

---

Meanwhile, at Jolene's house...

Jolene looked slightly panicked for a second, but came to relax as Gabriel explained where he stood. "When I said Will was helping me, I... wasn't talking about an accident. I... I'm a Wiccan. No one at school really knows -- well, except the others. I was afraid that Will might freak out when I told him, but..." Tears formed in her eyes. "But he was there. All along. And now... now I'm afraid."

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Push listened curiously, then he visibly stiffened once the words "lights are out" sounded. His mind went into overdrive as memories slammed through his mindscape.

Church. Lights out. Laughing. Tracking a demon. Church. Lights out. Museum. Lights. Laughing. Scratch.

A curse flew from his lips as he moved to sprint, then realized something. He spun around to face the Sheriff, eyes flashing, a hand reaching up unconsciously to touch the haft of his hammer. The kineticist's voice was clipped and harsh this time, a rapid change from the warm tones he'd used earlier.

"First Presbyterian Church. Where, which direction? Now."

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"Human evil," Nick said. "Stuff that's still tempered by rationales, petty and weak as they may be. Magic means opening your mind to the idea that there are some things in the universe that represent the darkest of human thought -- with no other reason than 'because.'" He paused. "Of course, with that comes the understanding that there are things of beauty out there. Things of wonder, utter grace and kindness... but with that comes the fear of being found unworthy in the hands of higher beings. Fear's a heavy guard for people.. and you know, I really can't knock them for it."

"Yeah, you end up seeing... things you want to forget. Don't misunderstand me, some things are amazing, but they're rare. The demons, and the goblins, and everything else that bumps in the night. All of a sudden it's your job to deal with it, and it won't stop." Siobhan looked at the Sheriff. "Magic's nice to have, but there's a reason it's not widespread."

A curse flew from his lips as he moved to sprint, then realized something. He spun around to face the Sheriff, eyes flashing, a hand reaching up unconsciously to touch the haft of his hammer. The kineticist's voice was clipped and harsh this time, a rapid change from the warm tones he'd used earlier.

"First Presbyterian Church. Where, which direction? Now."

"Hold on," said Siobhan, holding up a hand. "If you're going to fly off and fight this thing, I'm not letting you go alone." She turned to Nick and the bear kid. "While I'm loath to split up, I get the idea you're going to do it anyway, and I don't think you should do it without either Eric or I backing you up."

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"Church is on Lamont Street, east end of town, just past the clocktower," Durand said. "And you sure as hell aren't going without me, either." She spoke into her radio. "All units, proceed to First Presbyterian. Suspicious activity. Observe, but do not approach." She turned to Eric. "You got anything faster than a car?"

"Not on me," he said. "Hell, with all the powers of the universe at my beck and call, I usually drive an Impala. I might be able to whip something up, though..."

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Push's eyes switched between the three of them, and he turned his back, clenching his fist so hard his knuckles popped..

"I don't have bloody time for this."

He spun, reaching out a hand, and Equinox suddenly felt as if a buffet of energy had lifted her off the ground. Looking down, she could see what looked like a gust of wind right beneath her feet, energy being manipulated around her whole body. As the others looked on, Push gave a short jump, and twin jets of invisible kinetic energy erupted from his feet, kicking up dust and alley detritus as he went upwards.

"Can only carry one person, she spoke first, so I carry her. You want to back me up, then you better keep up, I'm not letting Scratch get away this time!"

And with that, he shot off into the sky in the direction of the church as he kicked the jets in full-bore, Equinox following right behind. For four seconds, a sonic boom erupted in the skies above the town...

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"I told him," Durand said, somewhat awestruck by the display of Push's speed. Her authority quickly reasserted itself, however, as she turned to Nick. "What did I just tell him?" she said, somewhat irate.

"Just goes to show," Eric said. "Let's see what we can do here..."

This far away from the crime scene, the general sense of death in town was weak. The dead here rested peacefully, and aside from one obvious stain, there hadn't been much violent death here. But there was enough to call up something...

Last time I did this was the construction site in Baton Rouge...

Eric levitated off the ground. Soon after, so did Durand and Marcus. "What in the name of -- ?"

"Just hold on tight!" Eric yelled. "To... well, whatever you can." And lifted on currents of buoyant ectoplasm and psychic residue, the trio took off through the clouds. Within seconds, they were arriving just down the street from the church. With the ectoplasm cleared away, they looked perfectly normal -- within reason.

The First Presbyterian Church didn't really look different from any other church -- large, clear glass windows, white wood over brick architecture, welcoming oak doors bolted shut. Durand approached an officer. "What's happened?" she said.

"Nothing," the officer said. "Knocks on the door didn't net anything. We called in with our megaphone, but nothing came of that. Phone line's cut, too. And there was this roar --"

"Yeah, I heard it too," Durand said. "I think that's unrelated." She turned to Eric. "What now?"

"Now we try and take a read. See what's --"

Eric's thought was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. He looked back to the church to see that all the windows had shattered at once. And in one window, he could see lights dancing from within.

"Fire," one of the cops said. "Holy crap, the building's on fire!"

---

Meanwhile, across town...

Jolene's talk with Gabriel was interrupted by a sound like a jet going Mach 1 just ten feet above the town's tallest building. "What was that?" she asked.

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"What in the-" shrieked Siobhan as the telekinetic air draft hurled her up and through the air. "You do not," she shouted over the sound of rushing wind, "Do this sort of thing without some sort of warning!" She staggered backwards as they landed down on the ground. "Skies above, do not do that again!"

That was about the time she noticed the building was on fire. "Aegis..." she muttered, conjuring up a massive wall of mystic force. Ordinarily, it would be glowing white, but because she didn't want it to, and because she still wore her pentacle under her shirt, she suppressed this glow with a mere thought. And sprinted towards the double doors of the church. "Stand back!" she commanded, pushing them open.

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Push taking off the way he had rubbed Marcus the wrong way. It reminded him of the look that he'd had at the station, and now there was a name to Mr. Stone's warlock--Scratch. He'd never heard the name before, but suddenly things started to make a little more sense--Stone's sense of urgency was very specific and narrow. Perhaps dangerously so. Not that Marcus was the most level-headed person on the planet, but he at least had a magical nudge when his emotions were getting the better of him. He didn't even get a chance to respond before Push and Equinox took off in a rather unusual fashion.

"...the hell was that?"

Marcus grunted as Eric suddenly levitated him; it felt weird, but he didn't panic--it was depths, not heights, that gave him problems. When they got there, he took a moment to reorient himself, and that was all it took before the sound of shattering glass echoed through the streets, followed by the all too familiar smell of something set ablaze. Staff in hand, Marcus wasn't long behind Equinox once he'd landed. God, this is gonna get ugly...

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---

Meanwhile, at Jolene's house...

Jolene looked slightly panicked for a second, but came to relax as Gabriel explained where he stood. "When I said Will was helping me, I... wasn't talking about an accident. I... I'm a Wiccan. No one at school really knows -- well, except the others. I was afraid that Will might freak out when I told him, but..." Tears formed in her eyes. "But he was there. All along. And now... now I'm afraid."

Gabriel just nodded at her statement. It was roughly what he expected.

"That's something like what I thought you would say. I can understand why you've kept it hidden; it's not a widespread belief, and there are many misconceptions. Many of them not helped by my spiritual brothers and sisters..."

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment, before turning his sincere gaze back to the girl.

"I won't tell anyone without your permission. Even though I don't share your belief structure, and disagree at the level of philosophy and worldview, I will not try to force you to change. That, too, goes against my beliefs. Give yourself time, and perhaps you will be able to tell your friends and family. I'll leave a couple of numbers with you...just in case."

Suddenly, something she'd said came to the forefront of his mind.

"Wait, "the others"? What "the others" are you-"

And then:

---

Meanwhile, across town...

Jolene's talk with Gabriel was interrupted by a sound like a jet going Mach 1 just ten feet above the town's tallest building. "What was that?" she asked.

Gabriel barely kept from grinding his teeth in frustration. He couldn't keep his eyes from clenching shut and his hands from rubbing his temples. Somehow, he knew one of his companions was responsible. Eric and Equinox were pretty much assured to not be the culprits. Marcus...maybe. But he didn't seem like the type to rocket across the sky like that. That left...

"Stone. I'm going to strangle him with that hideous scarf of his."

He began walking out of the room, then stopped to face Jolene for a moment.

"Stay here. Stay inside. Tell your parents to do the same. And...just be careful. I have a bad feeling about this."

With those ominous words, Gabriel all but runs out of the house, coat trailing behind him. Before the adults at the home can ask why he was leaving, he took to the sky. He made sure to keep his speed at about 400mph, and take a nice sharp angle up and down, to minimize disturbance.

Gabriel landed in a flurry of white coat just as someone cried out that there was a fire. It hadn't been hard to determine where to go; it looked like every officer of the law in the county was gathered around the church. He jogged over to the Sheriff, Eric, and some of the others.

"How long until the fire department gets here?"

He lowers his voice so that only the sheriff and his fellow "investigators" can hear him.

"Are we going in, or waiting it out? I'm not well-equipped to handle fires."

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Push ignored the rapid arrival of the others, reaching into his pack and yanking out a set of rather battered goggles. Swiftly pulling his hat off, revealing a shock of jet-black hair, he pulled the band over his skull and the goggles over his eyes, before reapplying the hat. As the last investigator arrived (Gabriel, wasn't it?), he felt a sudden urge to insult the man's costume. Odd.

He looked through the lenses of the goggles, raking them across the building's wall as he peered into the interior. For a moment, the sheer heat of the flames on the inside nearly blinded him, but he forced his eyes to keep looking. Last time he'd blown into a building that had been darkened, following a police call...a slight movement in the heat drew his attention, and as he focused his attention, it resolved itself into a barely humanoid shape, seemingly dancing amid the flames.

Dancing.

In the flames.

Frak.

He lifted his goggles, turning to the others. For a moment, he felt the urge to simply blow a hole in the wall, clearing as much distance between him and Scratch (if he was in there) as possible, but he squelched it fast. He'd already made a mistake going off half-cocked like this, he wasn't going to compound it and end up with a repeat of Gear City. His mouth twisting under the scarf in silent fury, he spoke in a controlled tone to the others.

"Saw something in there. Flames were too large to get a clear look, but it was vaguely humanoid, and it was...dancing. Dancing, right in the middle of those flames. Think we found what we were looking for."

A flash of movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, as Equinox flung the doors open to reveal the inferno inside.

"Equinox! Dancing arsonist inside! Watch your back!"

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Equinox stopped just inside the church, feeling the intense heat of the flames and smoke, barely able to see. This will not do. She raised her left hand high into the air, her right hand held out from her body, hand tracing patterns through the air.

"Loki, Loki, lord of flame,

These mortals weaved a wicked game,

By your cunning, hallowed name,

Make this raging pyre be tame!"

On the last word, she levelled her left hand at the flames to absorb the energy of the heat, fire and smoke into herself, planning to eject it out of her right hand as light energy. And it happened.

Flame lanced from every surface, every pew, every burning puddle of spilled wine, from the grass outside, from every cigarette, from every fireplace, from every campfire. Every source of flame in two miles lanced inwards, screeching towards Equinox, passing through buildings and people harmlessly and painlessly through the power of the spell. And hit her in the hand.

Seconds later, Equinox stood there, glowing with a bright nimbus of light, once more in her black coat and costume. In her right hand, she seemed to hold a miniature sun of pure whiteness. "Huh." With that word, the light dissipated, leaving the church flameless.

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"Well, I guess there's our answer," Eric said, following Equinox to the doors of the church. Through them, he watched as flames danced from the pews, and noticed the broken glass that littered the walkways. Might as well get the work clothes on now, he thought. He ducked in through the open doors and behind an alcove, drawing on the connection to Hades and the secret door in its patron's manse. By the time the darkness had faded, Nick Cimitiere was in costume, ready to deal with whoever -- or whatever -- was in the church. He walked through the second set of doors, and for a second, was stunned by what he saw.

The pulpit had been smashed to pieces, and what was left was carved with glyphs in a language he didn't recognize. The cloth on the table was stained red, and for a second he thought it was blood -- until he realized it was the color of spilt wine. The statue of Christ on the cross, however, did have blood running down it. The hands and feet had been hacked away roughly, and an inverted pentagram had been carved on its chest.

"Clever," Nick said. "You could maybe get a job doing stage work for a black metal band."

The arsonist emerged from the flames. She seemed beautiful in a mousy way, dressed in simple black clothes. A silver pentacle stood out on her chest, and something mad danced behind her eyes. "I am sure the others will appreciate it better," she said. "Once they find I have --"

The flames went down around her. She looked at them with some disgust. "Oh. You have friends."

"Yeah," Nick said. "So, once you've what? Peed in the baptismal font? Played Slayer over the PA? What?"

"Perhaps I shall abandon this charade for now." The woman's skin peeled and broke. Where it fell away, something new took its place -- a masculine hunter, with jagged, corkscrewing horns from his forehead, hooved feet, and greens the color of rotting flesh and bile. A quiver full of arrows that pulsed with corruption hung at his back, and a bow of bone was stuck through his arm.

"Blood works just as well for blasphemy as flame."

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Marcus stood there, dumbfounded for a moment as he watched Equinox do her thing. Again. He flinched reflexively, worried for a moment that he might've been too close to her, but after a moment he just... stared. It was really all he could do, and as the flames settled in her hand and faded as is if it were nothing at all, the shapeshifter finally found his words.

"...you have got to show me how you did that."

He followed Eric inside, regarding the woman that had been in the burning church with a somewhat confused expression. This was their culprit? She looked weird, and the scene was a wreck--downright blasphemous, really--but she seemed mostly harmless. Crazy, but harmless. When she showed her true face--literally, as she turned into a he--Marcus's jaw went slack. He'd never seen a demon before, and all the pictures and theory in the world couldn't really prepare anyone for the real thing. He wasn't afraid of it, but there was a considerable amount of uncertainty in his body language, even as he stood his ground. "...holy crap," was all he could manage to get out as he stared at the monster...

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Push walked in behind the others, taking a spot on the end of the makeshift battle line they seemed to have been forming. He reached up and seized the hammer haft in one hand, pulling it up and leaning the side of the hammer opposite the buisness end on his shoulder. He looked about at the room, seeing every part of the desecration and logging it away in his mind with a blank face. Another entry for the catalogue of nightmares he already had in his head.

Then the demon erupted from the young woman he'd seen. Again, his face stayed impassive. He reached into the energy he had in his core, raising his arm to point it at the laughing demon, about to paste it with a full-bore kinetic bolt...then stopped. And he smiled. A wolvish smile.

"You know...I had a wonderful line to counter that, but I don't think I have the right to deal with you. No, I really don't think I do..."

Push stepped backwards, moving out of the way of the door and leaving a clear line between it and the daemonic beast, and pointed his arm backwards right outside the door, at a very specific hero.

"No...this is His house. So He does."

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Gabriel jogs to catch up with the others, pausing to cover his eyes as Equinox summons, for the briefest of moments, a small sun. When the blinding light clears, he steps into the church.

And halts in place, his whole body frozen in shock.

Even as the others taunt the being that at first seemed to be a human, but soon revealed itself to be a demon, a fallen angel, he simply stood there. Observing. Processing. Listening. Letting his righteous anger build slowly, like a fire that was tenderly cared for. Until it exploded.

His voice rang out, the sound easily audible to the cops outside, and perhaps people beyond. Beneath the clear, ringing sound of the words, there was an undercurrent. It was like the roar of a lion, the rasp of sharp steel being drawn forth, the sounding of a trumpet, and the cry of an eagle, all at once.

I cast you out, unclean spirit, along with every Satanic power of the enemy, every spectre from hell, and all your fell companions; in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Begone and stay far from this creature of God. For it is He who commands you, He who flung you headlong from the heights of heaven into the depths of hell. It is He who commands you, He who once stilled the sea and the wind and the storm. Hearken, therefore, and tremble in fear, Satan, you enemy of the faith, you foe of the human race, you begetter of death, you robber of life, you corrupter of justice, you root of all evil and vice; seducer of men, betrayer of the nations, instigator of envy, font of avarice, fomentor of discord, author of pain and sorrow. Why, then, do you stand and resist, knowing as you must that Christ the Lord brings your plans to nothing? Fear Him, who in Isaac was offered in sacrifice, in Joseph sold into bondage, slain as the paschal lamb, crucified as man, yet triumphed over the powers of hell. Begone, then, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit!

Gabriel took one step forward and up, now hovering a few inches above the floor. His body was wreathed in sonic energy, the very air warping around him. Against all odds, his eyes were shining with white light. Just this once, perhaps he had a bit of help from on high. His hands were almost invisible behind the concentrated sound. Nevertheless, his left hand rose, a single finger pointing at the demon.

Begone, now! Begone, seducer! Your place is in solitude; your abode is in the nest of serpents; get down and crawl with them. This matter brooks no delay; for see, the Lord, the ruler comes quickly, kindling fire before Him, and it will run on ahead of Him and encompass His enemies in flames. You might delude man, but God you cannot mock! It is He who casts you out, from whose sight nothing is hidden! It is He who repels you, to whose might all things are subject! It is He who expels you, He who has prepared everlasting hellfire for you and your angels, from whose mouth shall come a sharp sword, who is coming to judge both the living and the dead and the world by fire!

Finally, he threw both his hands into the air, and a sound like a hundred trumpets crying out sounded.

IN THE NAME OF THE LORD, BEGONE!

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The demon took a step back, and Nick could feel the air around him get a little colder. "No," the demon whispered. "No! He is NOT my master, and I will NOT bow to his tyranny ANY MORE!" Quick as lightning, he notched an arrow and fired it at Gabriel, a convenient target all in white -- but not convenient enough, as the demon's shaken nerves caused the arrow to miss by a country mile. Nick Cimitiere decided to get in on the spirit.

"Whoever is unjust, let him be unjust still

Whoever is righteous, let him be righteous still

Whoever is filthy, let him be filthy still.

Listen to these words long written down --"

Barbarous talons coated Nick's hands, coalesced from the stuff of death itself. He took a swipe at the demon, but it skirted away, trying to get some sort of advantage over the others.

"...when the man comes around."

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