1963-10-08 - Disorderly Damage
Summary: Lilith and her cronies invade Macy's in Midtown; heroes answer the call, and Lilith… gets dusted for the first time since leaving the Hellmouth.
Related: Once Upon a Hellmouth Plotline
Theme Song: None
sinjin jennifer mree jono marcus 


It's the middle of the day in midtown Manhattan and bodies line the pavement milling this way and that as they go about their everyday business. While things have been quieter on the streets of late, in the middle of the day, people still manage to engage in their daily activities. With the sun shining, New Yorkers feel safe amid the otherwise treacherous streets created by the sinister that lies in the Park only blocks away.

*

Sinjin has just picked up his prescriptions and the bottles feel heavy in the pocket of his velvet jacket. The sun is warm, though, and the day is nice. It's better to walk than take a cab — sometimes it feels a little too close in a cab, even with the windows open. He stops on a street corner to light a cigarette and read over a piece of paper from the pharmacy. Warnings, of course. Side effects. It'll be worth it.

*

Making his way down the sidewalk as the sun shines is a little black stormcloud. Well. In a way. Clad all in black, complete with a leather jacket and a heavy scarf pulled up to his nose, Jonothon Starsmore trudges his way along in amongst the rest of the foot traffic. His eyes are on a small flier in his hand, an advertisement for a new music store nearby.

*

Marcus has made a day of getting out for a walk, getting out of the Kitchen for a change. He doesn't seem to any particular goal in mind of where he goes, more rather to the point that it's just easier to wander and get his bearings set in his own head. Not when he's got other things on his mind, enough that it keeps his attention distracted inward. Right now, he's standing at a corner, waiting for the light to turn before continuing on his trek to…wherever it is that he happens to be going.

*

Mree leans back in the driver's seat of his sky blue convertible bug. Top down in mid-day traffic is top sunning time, and his seat's cranked back a degree or two beyond what might be considered a normal driving position. His arms are raised and crossed behind his head, and his tail's snaking up from underneath him to coil around the wheel and steer. Not that there's much steering involved. Car ahead moves forward, his car goes forward. Car ahead stops, his car stops. Music's on the radio and everything is golden.

*

Who ever drives around in Midtown? Apparently someone important enough to have a driver rather than rely on a cab, confused Midwesterners, or important people. One of those applies to Jennifer, who hasn't even bothered to wear a hat to disguise being so unequivocally similar in appearance to the big statue in the harbor. Years before Tim Gunn tells designers to own it, there she is, wearing a spiky headdress made from plastic in her wildly free hair. "You know, sooner or later you will irritate the police and I have no idea what I can say to get you out from a traffic citation," she comments dryly to Mree. Of course whether the police would simply open fire at her is another matter not to be registered. If she tries, she might tuck her chin under her knees and look repentant, sitting on that convertible seat.

*

The change is slow, subtle even. The temperature drops several degrees, as if a storm has just blown into Midtown, in much the way the transition from summer to autumn does. The rustle of the wind whipping around buildings, however, speaks to something else. Something fast, and uninviting.

Droplets of moisture come down on the world below in a quiet pitter patter that grows in the span of seconds, a cry to head indoors to whatever building seems most hospitable. Bodies retreat into the buildings. Some towards Macy's. Others to the Hilton Hotel lobby to wait out whatever storm befalls.

A howl, low, yet loud, calls from the Park only blocks away.

Screams that resound from several buildings spill out onto the street.

*

"Motherfucker," Sinjin says quite clearly, around his cigarette. He pushes up his sunglasses to hold back his long hair that's now being pulled across his face, folds up the paper and tucks it away, and gives serious thought to popping a Valium. Not yet.

Sinjin pulls a palmful of fire from his cigarette, cups the little yellow sphere, crackling and singing, in his free hand. He stands there, as people flee around him, then heads in the direction of where people are fleeing out instead of in.

*

Suddenly, Jono doesn't look so silly for being so bundled up. He peers up at the sky when the temperature drops and the wind picks up, eyes narrowing. The flier gets tucked into his jacket and he zips it up, then shoves his hands into his pockets. He ducks his head and continues on his way. All better, right?

Until the howl. He keeps walking, but Jono twists to cast a look over his shoulder towards the Park, his brow furrowing.

But it's the screams that suddenly come out of the building next to him that make Jono actually jump, and a startled <Bloody hell!> escapes his… well, not his mouth. The exclamation is heard in one's mind, not by one's ears.

Suddenly, Jono is rethinking this whole 'going out' thing. But for the moment, at least, he is motionless. Not running away, but not investigating, either. Just… startled.

*

"You can just tell them… that…" Mree seems unconcerned about the prospect of a police pullover. But, hey, he seems unconcerned about most things, and his lips curl in a sweet little smile as he considers what to say to them. "It's such a beautiful day," he finally settles on saying. Only to have his words proven wrong as a sudden chill hits the air, and he lifts a hand upside-down to the sky to catch the first raindrop or two from a sudden sunshower. "W— ohh," he makes a sad little sound, but there's no panic to it. Getting wet doesn't seem to be much of a bother to him. But he likes the sunlight better. Then there's a howl, which elicits from the plantling an attentive tip of his head in that direction and a mild: "I wonder what that was."

*

At first, Marcus thinks nothing of the rain. As one of the many homeless in New York, he's become accustomed to being rained on. Granted, he could just bother Jessica or Danny for their couch and he'd likely be offered one. But there's something about not wanting to overstay one's welcome. On the other hand, neither of them would likely be very happy he's willingly sleeping in the streets again.

He was fine to think of nothing more about the weather until he hears the howl, to which then he stops moving after crossing the street. And it just had to come from the Park. There's a particular sensation of getting away, because he's well aware of what happened the last two…no, three times he got two close to the Hellmouth. Lose control, fight demons, create tornado out of fire, and then don't remember that he even did that to begin with. There's almost a resigned look to the soldier, a 'why do I do this to myself' before he starts moving in the direction of the Park. Strange is going to yell at him again, he just knows it.

*

The change in the weather produces little response from Jen. Her body already compensates for extremes in weather comfortably enough, though the precipitation pelting the windshield cause her to squint and peer up at the overhanging buildings. The first thing to go is that starry Liberty headband, pulled off her scalp with a few scratches to prove it. She tosses it behind the seat, or between it more notably, then cranks the window up as fast as the flimsy metal handle can stand. "Good time to" Words fade into the nascent wail rising from the park, source of all terrible things these past weeks. "go. Now."

The car gains at least two inches when she opens the door and steps out, and if it hasn't fully stopped then the She-Hulk barely notices. One long step gets her to the road, and even in NYC, traffic diverges for a seven foot tall giantess, especially one in jeans. The outflow of pedestrian traffic becomes less of an issue as she points to Mree. "Keep up!" Easier said than done, as she starts off into her version of a loping run. Nothing like screams to get the adrenaline going. Nothing like adrenaline to make that into an Olympic sprint, and then some.

*

The howling becomes louder as ludicrously large shadows of five dogs run along the side of a build. The five bark loudly as they lurk along the shadow of Macy's. One leaps out from the side of the building merging a strange blend of shadow and tangibility to become whole and leap onto a woman on the pavement. The beast opens its jaw wide, exposing a set of sharp teeth. The woman is promptly dragged back towards Macy's where the screams seem to be converging.

Inside the building, the normally marble, pristine tile floors, bright reflection of lovely lights, and products on display have already become a torrid of chaos. Within the department store, the lights flicker, the fire alarm has been pulled — giving a nearly constant ring across the room. A short, small framed waif woman, with blond hair, wide, over-sized blood-red eyes acts as the greeter. Wordlessly, she reaches out to grasp at anyone who enters. Her lips twitch into an ethereal not-quite-there smile.

While the waif's presence seems normal enough, the red fluid on her lips might be cause for alarm, especially with the child she holds in her grasp.

*

Sinjin is cursing in a monotone under his breath, in multiple languages, without missing a beat between words. He walks right into Macy's like he's about to go shopping, takes in the scene. He doesn't stop cursing even when he lets that little fireball go screaming across the distance between him and that waifish blonde.

The fireball is about the size of a baseball, white-hot, spinning and screaming on a frequency that only Sinjin can hear. It follows the line of his gaze locked on the waif, her eyes, her bloody mouth, follows it until it hits something.

*

Great. Marcus is already too close to the Hellmouth as it is when he sees the hellhounds run across the building. This will have to be his first stop before getting any farther. The only problems the voices in his head are getting all the loud within the proximity to the portal. He's already been on the other side once as it is, hearing their whispers isn't any good. Four other voices that mimic his own. He pushes them out for the time being.

Eyes fill with red, glowing, channeling the first element. It's not normal fire that springs from his hands like a reddish-white lance, it's elemental fire, drawn from the very magical source where all other fire is born. And in his experience, deziens of what he presumes of Hell are not particular fans of it. Especailly as he's the one cutting loose at the shadow hounds.

*

Jono narrowly avoids catching the large dog in the face, but when he sees it land on the woman instead, he immediately wonders if maybe taking the hit himself would have been a better idea for all involved. His eyes follow the dog as it begins dragging her towards the Macy's just in time to see the man with the ball of fire in his hand making his way inside.

He hesitates. And then, with a roll of his eyes, Jono starts hurrying along after them, casting a look around for something he can use as a weapon as he goes. A broom, a chair, something.

*

Keep up? Mree's on it. A crank of a gear sits the driver's seat upright again, and he shifts gears, angling his little car and zipping in between the lines of traffic, where at least half of those on the road are to busy looking around to figure out what's going on to be on top of honking and swearing at him. He veers off down another road, leaving Jennifer to run after the howling on her own, or so it seems — but soon enough he's found a good place to leave the car, and, not even bothering to get out of it, he merely evaporates into a *POFF* of greenish mist which dissipates mid-air in a split second with a coiling wisp. And in this less obvious form he speeds along after Ms. Walters.

*

Look at all those fancy, lovely people with their fire and more fire, blood and big teeth. At full sprint, it takes Jen very little time to reach Macy's but she lacks the foolhardiness to spring right inside without anyone else in the vicinity. A look about confirms very little to be right: sanguine floors, snapping creatures, and the insufferable, red-eyed blonde. Property damage looks to be less than desirable, she does glance about in case there should happen to be an unescorted rack, pipe, or the like near at hand. A precaution, really, as she starts advancing towards one the canine beasts.

"Here, doggie, doggie, doggie! Let's play!" Her voice is feminine, but behind that lovely cultured call radiates a kind of menace best associated with lions stalking the savannah, a rumble that passes through the gut and leaves it jelly in its wake.

*

The intangible hellhounds in shadowed form growl loudly at Marcus as he tries to strike them with the elemental energy. They do not, however, seem deterred, instead, slowly moving forward, slipping out of the shadow realm into tangible form to play. Fire does not seem to be their weakness. One of the beasts leaps directly at Marcus.

The hellhound that already grasps the woman and draws her into Macy's perks up at Jennifer's call. It growls back at her, but seems to continue to hold its charge.

The waif screams as the fire licks her undead flesh, prompting her to release the child (who, weirdly continues to stand there, as if in a trance). The skin melts where the fire hits her shoulder, searing along the surface, and burning a whole right through her shoulder. The skin bubbles and boils. She collapses to her knees and frantically tries to roll beneath the influence of the flame.

A rickety chair adjacent to the entrance normally serves as a waiting-for-shopper chair becomes an easy weapon for Jono.

Moving beyond the entrance of Macy's each of the counters has been overtaken by similar pale-skinned figures. The large broad-shouldered man behind the perfume counter with the red eyes is in the company of three tranced teenaged girls who seem rapt with whatever he's saying.

Upstairs, a crew of vampires line the balcony, and a literal red carpet stretches just out of sight.

*

Sinjin can feel it, the way the fire eats at the slender blonde's body — she's not alive. That doesn't make it any easier when he wraps her up in his fire and clenches the flame like a fist. She thrashes and shrieks, fights his flame, howling in agony. Sinjin reaches out, clenches his fist on nothing, and the flame engulfs her entirely. He tightens his hand, eating her down to dust with his fire.

The feel of it, the smell of undead flesh roasting, makes him nauseous. Sinjin takes a couple steps back toward the door, trying to collect himself.

*

The hound will impact with something hard. Marcus' eyes flash black, a bubble of goldish brown encircling him on the spot making a sharpened 'ping!' noise at the collison, leaving the elementalist standing where had originally stood. He has more tools in box to pick from if fire isn't going to do the trick like it normally would. Which is fine, makes him change things up. The man will eventually lend a hand with what appears to be a multitude of undead, but he's got his hands full.

He claps his hands together, causing the change in the air pressure eminating from his spot. From black, his eyes now shift to yellow, pulsating with a glow, becoming the conduit, an elemental font. Magical air churns and spins, and as he seperates his hands, air swirls around the shadow hound, decompressing the area around the creature so much, the will shred and crush it. Nature abhors a vacuum, even one created by magical means.

*

As a green giantess and lances of fire make themselves known outside, Jono allows himself a moment to gawk before he rushes into the Macy's. Surely those two can handle what's going on outside without him and his… chair. Right.

Clutching the chair in both hands, Jono tries very hard to ignore how ridiculous he feels. The shrieking waif makes for a very effective distraction, though. And as Sinjin begins to back away, Jono narrows his eyes and comes charging past him, planting a foot and bringing the chair towards the waif's face with all of his skinny musician's might. Lady with a bloody mouth? Yeah, no. He doesn't care for that at all.

<Kid. Run. Go find your mum,> Jono says to the child, unaware that it's really for nothing.

*

*POFF* comes Mree smacking back into a unified corporeal reality just past Ms. Walters, his mouth agape at the sight of the hellhound with its female captive. This is hardly the sort of thing you'd expect at a city instuitution like Macy's. "No! Bad dog!" he adds in his scolding, as if it might help.

*

Such violence restrains Jennifer for a few seconds. No more, when the waif goes up in smoke, confirming a dismal truth. She diverts from the hellhound clutching the woman by the shoulder upon seeing the fellow behind the perfume counter, at least for the moment. The girls' fascinated state only feeds her favourite drug, adrenaline, and quickens her physical response. "Gentlemen, be my guests to light him up!" Springing by, she swipes two bottles of perfume in quick succession and hurls them full force at the red-eyed monster. Shards of glass and an alcoholic base mix wonderfully with sorcerous or mutant fire, and she's not about to ask the source yet.

Then it's onto the hellhound, and the floor reverberates with her bounding steps. Since it has the woman, it ought to be corporeal, and she launches herself that way. All those weeks practicing in gyms and running after the Menace of Manhattan ought to help throw a punch to get its attention. Or, you know, cave in its ribs.

*

The hellhound that hit Marcus recoils and collapses with a yelp! It whimpers loudly as it aches along the pavement. Force does effect them, it seems.

Jono's voice doesn't fall on deaf ears, yet the child he speaks to, very slowly, very subtly raises its head. The blood red eyes that reflect up at him look distant. Deranged. Cold. And for a beat that's all it is. A simple exchange; a silent conversation borne through nothing more than the stare of eyes.

There is barely time to react as it bares two large fangs and lunches at Jono's neck. It seeks purchase with Jono's neck.

A sharp whistle from upstairs in Macy's calls the three remaining dogs to the second storey. They become intangible and merge with the shadow once more — barking as they move.

The scolding of the hellhound still grasping the woman causes even more growling in Mree's direction. The punch to the dogs ribs cause it to yelp loudly and, temporarily, merge with the shadow at the counter. This has the positive side effect of it releasing the woman it was holding. It limps as it turns tangible again, leaping out of the shadow world, right at Jennifer.

*

Sinjin takes in the vampires around the balcony and raises his hand, taking fire up with it. The fire turns into a bird, a crow, that opens its mouth in a silent cry before diving at the vampires watching the scene below.

Everything is so surreal. Sinjin has no choice but to be right here, in the moment. She sprints across the floor to the stairs, heading up to meet his crow as — in the back of his head — it blazes its way along the balcony.

*

Oh, Jono thinks as a red-eyed child is suddenly lunging for his neck. This looks bad. The child is faster than Jono is. Too fast. He doesn't even have time to bring the chair up to try and defend himself with it before fangs are sinking through his scarf, and his eyes go wide. Not in pain. But in fear.

When the child gives a shriek and recoils away, its face is sizzling, the scarf's fabric caught up on its teeth and being yanked from Jono's neck by the motion.

Where there should be a jaw and a throat, there is fire, and the world's newest vampire just attempted to drink it. Frozen in place, Jono watches with a wholly new kind of terror as the kid clutches its face in agony.

*

Funny how you find out stuff like that. Fire and Air may not work, but something occurs to Marcus when the hound bounces off him. Instead of trying with this whole 'trial and error' thing, he'll just go straight for the kill. Extending his hand, he'll encapsule the shadow hound in a portective bubble that he uses, eyes now returning to their black glow. Only this time, he closes his hand into a fist, thereby making the bubble shrink, and shrink, aaaaand shrink. Which should thoroughly crush whatever's in it to a fine fine powder. Ash, he's thinking. Demons tend to crumble to ash when they're killed.

*

Mree gives the dog the big, sad plant eyes when the dog goes all growly on him, but, possibly of note, he doesn't shrink from it, nor seem more afraid than simply upset. He edges backward a half-step when Ms. Walters comes along to pummel the hound into submission. Or into shadow. That's a weird dog. But that, coming from the mutant plantling, is just about the ultimate in pot-kettle accusation, so he leaves it go. He's not worried for Ms. Walters. She can handle the puppy. Mree slinks in beside the woman and tries to get her attention. "Miss? Miss, are you OK? Can you hold onto me? I'm not going to hurt you," he's quick to add, since after everything else she's been through she might be nervous about a green fellow hovering over her.

*

Jen doesn't overextend herself with that punch, and she snaps her arm back towards herself, keeping it close. Her other fist rises to block any incoming blows, willing to sacrifice her shirt when Macy's has racks full of them. A good thing too because that dog coming back through the shadows brings out a glorious laugh from her, perhaps the only thing bright, clear, and good in the immediate vicinity. As it leaps, she grabs its shoulder in one verdant hand, the upper cut coming from underneath to redirect its slavering snout upwards instead of directly at her face. But momentum means she goes with it, swiveling sideways instead of right back, though they'll probably both crash onto a counter together at that point. Those teeth can bite at her all they like, but she trusts in her durable flesh and the enhanced rate of healing.

That's about the moment the She-Hulk lets go of the legal worries, grabbing the hound's body one way and forcing its head rapidly in the other if she can in an attempt to snap it. If it means straddling it between her legs and beating it down, so be it. Playtime is over.

*

The fire snakes up the stairs striking targets that Sinjin had in mind. Three undead are caught in the flames he creates. The flames turns them to dust, making each ash as it moves. This, for better or worse, garners someone else's attention. A dark haired woman rises from a large looking throne — easily identified as the chair upon which Santa Claus perches in December — and turns to mist.

"Mistress!" one of her charges calls. But it's too late.

The dark haired woman with the red eyes reforms in front of Sinjin and attempts to catch his gaze. Lilith's cold undead fingers reach up towards his cheek, and she strokes it lightly. "You are lovely," she states. "Far too beautiful for surroundings such as these." Her head cants to the side as she admires him and his hair. The hellhounds become tangible beside her. "Surely you would enjoy this party. I can see you long for it. You fear death. I could take that away." Her lips curl, exposing two large fangs.

The child vampire that drank Jono's blood recoils and screams as it is dusted from the inside out. Slowly its insides melt away to ash that decay it from the inside out until it winds into a decayed pile of ash.

The hellhound that Marcus compacts during into nothing underneath the compacting time and time again. There is no sound. No further wrestle. Just the remains of what was once one of the Mistress's pets.

The hellhound that assaults Jennifer really does nip and bite and growl as it attempts to eat every pieces of her. The familiar SNAP of its neck, however, prompts it to go limp in her grasp.

*

The woman that Mree talks to seems rather out of it. Her pulse is weak. Her eyes roll to the back of her head. Her skin is clammy. She is not okay and needs immediate attention. Whatever the hellhound did when it bit her seems to have injected some kind of poison into her bloodstream.

*

Sinjin still has the cigarette in hand and, almost without thinking, he shoves it against Lilith's cheek. The lit end flares hot and white, as though fed by something fiercer than tobacco or air. With his other hand, he slams her in the breastbone with his palm, trying to throw her back.

The crow dissolves into air and sparks, the mental energy that fueled it all goes into freeing Sinjin.

"You don't know shit," he spits at Lilith.

*

When all this is over, Jono might reflect upon the fact that normal human children don't disintegrate into dust. Right now, however, he's staring wide-eyed where his young attack had just been standing as psionic flames lick harmlessly at his own head.

He only snaps out of it when the chair slips from his grasp and clatters to the floor. Jono blinks once, hard, and casts a look around for something familiar. Anything. The redhead with the fire will do — any port in a storm.

Resigned to his cover being blown, Jono's hands clench into fists at his sides and, although there is no visible effect that accompanies the psionic lance of pain he sends towards Lilith's mind, the fire around his head briefly looks more intense.

*

Once the hound has been contested with, Marcus circles on another one, a burst of sharp wind from yellow glowing eyes to throw it across the room, street, whatever into the nearest wall, enough force behind it to crush bone and muscle into paste. A shift now, using the heel of a booted foot to jab, braking off a street sign at it's base with super-soldier infused strength.

Picking up the sign, which happens to be one of those 'No Parking' ones, he hefts it like a javelin, hurling at another shadow hound, looking to impale it against the wall. This whole 'dog' business needs to stop right now, and the former soldier does his best to take care of however many of them as he can in short succession.

*

Mree doesn't know what to do. This woman looks about to die. He could try to pick her up and carry her somewhere, but he couldn't teleport her along with him if he tried, so that would be a slow process that would probably end in him arrying a corpse around. He almost calls to Ms. Walters for help, but— she's busy saving the world from demon dogs and sundry evils. "Shh-hh-hh, it's okay. It's okay," he tells the woman, looking at her wound, at the signs of poison. Finally, he takes a deep breath, and POFFs into that wispy green mist. It descends over the woman and disappears. Some of his microbes flit their usual passage up her nose and down into her lungs. Others just try to swim against the blood seeping from the wound. He winds his way into her bloodstream, tens of thousands of microbes invading her system at a time. Some of them go to her brain and set about calling up some pleasant memories for her to relive. Most of his attention is set on running through her bloodstream, looking for the poison that's attacking her cells from within.

*

ROLL: Marcus +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 62

*

The hound gone limp in her arms is discarded a touch thoughtlessly, but the nice California girl worried about minding her Ps and Qs takes a backseat. She swivels to find no evidence of Mree anywhere, only a woman under a peridot haze dwindling from sight. Nightshade lips flatten and she decides to rise, turning towards the most evident threat presenting itself. Herself, it would happen, flanked by two hellhounds and possibly a parking sign. The jade-skinned woman stalks into the melee towards Lilith and Sinjin, letting more of her anger rush through her veins, and it's not a trick of the eye if she subtly gains height and mass as a result.

"You don't know how to accessorize worth a damn, lady. Toy dogs are so last season," she quips, circling around the entwined pair. Psychic energy she can't see, but grabbing hold of the vampire's head and curling her fingers in towards the eyes? That's possible. Hauling her back so Sinjin can get free — or be free to incinerate the undead woman — is rather the point?

*

The fire at Lilith's cheek burns brightly, eating her flesh faster than it can easily regenerate Jono's mind fire burns brightly within the woman's head as Lilith can feel the pressure of the force on her body. She releases Sinjin as the green woman curls her fingers towards her eyes. And, oddly, rather than fear, amusement plays within the orbs of her eyes. In that moment, as Jennifer holds her in place, that same amusement keeps her there for several beats. Her tongue clicks, "And I have been informed green is so last season." Her hands lift and she violently presses back against the green woman with strength uncommon for human or vampire alike. Yet it's only a moment before her body changes, shifting into nothing. She vanishes like an ether.

Unfortunately, however, the three hellhounds that came to the second floor, each have their eyes on new targets — evidently psychically linked with their mistress.

One leaps out at Sinjin. Its large paws lunge out to press against his shoulders and its teeth bare down on his exposed neck.

A second hellhound leaps down from its place on the stairs to attack Jono. He roars loudly as it retakes shape, turning into a very different creature. While it had presumably taken the form of a dog, when it resumes its form, the shadow beast becomes a large black lion — the colouring a call to its truest form.

The third shadow beast gets attacked by the javelin going right through him, seemingly becoming a shadow as the sign hits. Consequently, it goes through the beast that seems to have shifted back to shadow form. It doesn't stay in that form long, and it leaps from the incorporeal world into the tangible one — as a dog once again. The canine, instead of going for the man's neck, aims to knock him off his feet.

The woman Mree helps certainly has globs of poison clinging to the mitochondria in her cells. As he mills about her bloodstream, he can physically see the attached greenery to the walls of her red blood cells. It moves towards her brain to impact her central nervous system.

At the bottom of the stairs, Lilith reforms. Her gaze settles on Jono and she aims to make eye contact once again. "You will help me kill Vlad," she says to him.

*

This time the curse words don't come out audibly but they're floating on the ether. Sinjin is out of fire. The dog's claws rip through his clothes, the teeth tear at his throat. He takes the pain, twists away, shoves his arm in the dog's mouth while he reaches into his pocket for the lighter.

All it takes is a spark. The fire burns through his clothes and into the dog's belly. He bleeds, the dog burns.

*

Having been down on the lower floor dealing with the nasty hounds, Marcus frowns at the fact that javelin went straight through it. A snort. Can't say he's been all that helpful at the moment. But then, movement catches his eye. And there's there's a particular vampy-looking woman making demands an whatnot. So that probably doesn't mean anyting. Time to revert back to that sniper training of his. Which means being quiet. The sudden yellow glow from his eyes might suggest his feet are falling on small cushions of air to dampen his noise.

Carefully, slowly, he'll creep up behind this Lilith or whatever he name might be. The elementalist doesn't so much care, but he does hold his breath, muting his breathing. Which is about the same moment he raises his fist back, fire suddenly erupting from his fist, covering his arm, and he'll swing, using that gifted enchanced strength not only to strike the woman, but to put his fist right through her.

*

Jono blinks twice when Lilith vanishes, his brow furrowing. <That ain't right,> says the young englishman with no mouth. Takes one to know one.

The roar gets his attention and Jono lets out a very alarmed noise as he backpedals away from the lion, the heel of his boot coming down on his own scarf. He goes down in a tangle and scrambles backward on his hands and heels.

Literally the only upside to Jono's current predicament is that he's so busy trying to avoid being eaten by some kind of demonic lion beast, sending bursts of psionic flame towards it in a near panic, that he does not make eye contact with Lilith when she calls to him. <Who the 'ell is Vlad?>

*

Mree keeps sending reinforcements into the woman's body. His present form is made up of over 30 billion microscopic life forms, and even though he reccoils from doing so, he sets himself upon each of the affected cells he comes across, getting the icksome poison upon his itsy bitsy personages and steering them away from the key organs. Wrestling them out of the wound again. Those bits of him which become too tainted by the poison he's wrangling may well die off — it's not a lovely feeling, but there are more to replace those who perish. He keeps the woman's brain ocupied by blissful thoughts while he tries his best to wrangle the tainted cells back out of the wound, and clear his own deceased microbes from her, as well.

*

"On the contrary, green is always tasteful." Jen might be surprised when the woman presses back, but that simply encourages her to yank upwards on… mist. The lack of anything leaves her with her hands raised over her head, striking quite the memorable pose. Sheepish? Not on your life. "Coward! Hiding behind your dogs? Come out, come out…" That Lilith reforms at the stairs is clearly proof of her cowardice.

That Jono is scrambling backwards is good enough for her. She goes racing towards the lion, hopefully not squashing the Englishman to bits in the meantime. "Stay down!" A shouted warning is better than no warning, and next up comes an all out tackle on the lion that speaks to being slightly irritated.

*

"Vlad, dear one," Lilith's eyebrows lift, "wreaks havoc on Hell's Kitchen. We will stop him. Together." By killing him. "He cannot be left to rove this world. I will glean all the sources I need to stop him and see him rest eternally." Or, at least until someone resurrects him again.

The fist through Lilith goes literally through Lilith. The formation of mist of her midsection actually has her head canting to the side thoughtfully. "Mortal," her lips quirk into a strange, yet sublime, smile, "you were the one she spoke of," the glimmer of mischief(?), playfulness, perhaps(?), that crosses those red eyes as she stares at Marcus is undeniable. "Fear not mortal, once all is waged, I will add you to our numbers. But first we wait~"

The hellhound that Sinjin dispenses with slumps beside him in a strange scent of smoke and charred — not quite flesh — almost like trees. For a moment, it seems, he gets a reprieve.

The demonic lion beast collapses with the psionic flames. It whimpers loudly as the flames lick its mind, causing pain to sear through its entire being. And then it is being tackled by a large green woman. It rolls back on her in an effort to break free, and in short order, Jennifer is quite literally wrestling a lion. It swipes its paws towards her and roars loudly.

The work Mree does is laboured, but effective. Slowly, but surely, with each pluck of cells, he gathers the poison, and draws it away form her bloodstream. After some time he sees that less and less poison is present, until it seems that there is, indeed, none left.

*

"This is fucked." And Sinjin should know. He grabs the fire that's taken the shape of the dog it destroyed, for lack of anything better, leans on it with his good arm to pull himself to his feet.

Sinjin is unsteady but furious. He kicks a baluster almost entirely out of the balcony railing, grabs it with his good hand and rips it free. The dog doubles, the two of them — all made of fire — charge down toward Lilith and Sinjin stands his ground at the top of the stairs, controlling the scene. The fire dogs fall on her from behind.

*

Okay, wasn't really expecting that one. Should've figured. And that whole fog thing is getting all kinds of annoying. "Lady, you look real ugly when you're begging. I prefer my women with a bit more class, than the two-bit barroom vixen look." he drawls, holding out his hand at her. And now he smiles at her, perhaps a bit more vicious and vindictive than he expects it. His voice seems to shift when his eyes turn to a glowing black. "We would crush this one, yes?" he seems to ask her. "This one may be worth the effort. We can taste her energy. We must have it." It's Marcus' voice, but not. Rather it's low, like the grinding of earth and stone.

The protective bubble forms around Lilith. No way out. No escape. And his outstretched hand starts to close, the bubble starting to constrict and compact down. "Feed the brands. You'll make us even stronger."

*

The shouted warning is all Jono needs to hear. He goes flat and brings his arms up to shield his face which, considering his face is wreathed in flame, probably looks kind of silly. Sue him. The situation is kind of freaking him out. <Ta!> As Jennifer tackles the beast off of him, he immediately rolls away, scrabbling against the tile floor and towards the nearest bit of cover he can find.

Jono needs to re-arm himself. All he's coming up with is a broken broom. Whatever. Better than nothing. He grasps it tightly in both hands and creeps towards the stairs, wary.

<You sound awfully altruistic 'bout this Vlad bloke,> Jono says lowly. <Considerin' you seem to be the one responsible fer all this here. I'm gettin' mixed signals, luv.>

*

Mree is exhausted with all this running around. He leaves a task force in the woman's brain to keep tabs on her sweet dreams, and then sends most of the rest of his forces to patrol the wound site, conglomerating there to make sure no poison seeps back in and not too much more blood escapes. But as long as he's there doing that he can't coalesce back into any sort of visible form, so if someone were to come along and move her while he's waiting for her to clot up, he'll just… go along with her. The meanwhile he takes a well-desered break. A few of his microbes might flirt with some cute skin mites they find on her face.

*

The whole situation screams of being fucked, and Sinjin deserves a nod of approval for declaring that. Jen might offer, but she is busy in the labour of Heracles against the Nemean lion with nearly the same results. Feet and paws scrabble upon the floor while she fights to obtain better purchase, flexing her biceps and tightening where her arms happen to close around the beast's neck. She slams her foot into its side and strains, heedless of claws or the possibility of it turning into ephemera. All the strength her gamma warped body can give her, she uses with the singular purpose of ripping a leonine head from its body. And if it pops free, she hurls over her shoulder right at dirty two-bit slattern from a bad romance movie.

*

The flames lick at Lilith's clothes as the fire dogs eat the fabric at her shoulders and the flesh underneath. It bubbles. Pops. Boils. Bubbles. Pops. It keeps doing this in quick succession, and its clear that it inflicts pain on the woman from anyone that can see her face, but it's also clear from the back that her flesh regenerates itself with each and every moment. There's a freakish quality to her, like a regeneration mutant that her flesh keeps returning to a near solid state.

The attempted bubble around her, however, doesn't contain her, and has her stepping out. Ironically, her efforts are strangely single-minded.

"Vlad must die," she hisses to Jono. "Freedom can only be achieved in his death — "

The lion complains loudly before its head is pulled from its body in a strange array of green-black fluid that covers the floor. The sheer strength displayed causes the last remaining shadow beast to skulk back into the background towards the shadow world once again.

*

Single-minded is also distracted. And Sinjin is in no hurry to burn anyone if he doesn't have to do it. He shifts his grip on the balustrade, takes the stairs down four at a time. The momentum takes him right up to Lilith, even as his dogs are snarling and biting at her with their fire, and he rams the broken balustrade into her back just under her left shoulderblade with all his weight behind it.

*

Jono is perfectly willing to serve as a distraction. It's safer than wrestling lions or whatever the red-haired bloke is up to.

<Your recruitment tactics need some work,> Jono tells her, keeping his grip on the broken broom and studiously not looking Lilith in the eye. He reads. It seems like a bad idea. <Should try somethin' less violent next time.>

*

There is probably a disaster happening somewhere. Mree's mind wanders, though, half-distracted by the dreams he's started to really watch now that he's not chasing down thousands of tainted cells. Somewhere it itches at him that something horrible is going on outside of this body he's inhabiting, but he doesn't want to leave her unconscious and untended. He gently tries to coax her mind toward wakefulness, taking away the dream and supplying an hallucination to greet her if she wakes. It's just him, pale green and glittering in the sunlight, leaning over her in conern as he tries to wake her. "Miss… Miss, can you hear me? Can you wake up? Can you tell me your name?" he tries to prompt her. If she answers, she'll be talking to nobody, of course, but he's real enough to her.

*

One head incoming at Lilith probably bounces off of the containment bubble that keeps the woman contained. One day, a lion skull will bean her in the head. One day!

Nasty fluid best be avoided. Unfortunately the choice of avoiding it is something left to chance, and Jen comes up snake eyes as far as that is concerned. The liquid dumped onto her shirt and jeans probably will come out absolutely never, even if she dumps a box of cleaning agents into the washing machine, and scrubs with steel wool. "Seriously?" A yelp rings off the roof. "Hell's bells, this is disgusting! This is the third shirt this week, and I swear by all that's holy, someone is making me magic fitting clothing." Dancing from foot to foot, she backs away from the puddle and shakes her arms out to the sides, like it might help vanish that unmentionable filth. "What is wrong with you? Keep your ichor where it belongs, not on Earth!"

*

"The war waged is far from being over and it's the onl — " whatever thought Lilith aimed to express disappears as the balustrade sinks into her back at her back. The vampire mistress disintegrates into a pile of dust as at the impact on her body. Wood remains the ever-effective means for killing vampires. The pile of ash on the ground seems like nothing in the destruction of the department store.

The woman that Mree talks to wearily hums as her head lulls to the side tiredly. "I… I… so tired," she says softly. She's certainly in better form than she'd been just minutes earlier, and she hums softly. "Sh-sheila. Sheila Bates," she murmurs. "Where am I? What.. what happened?"

The ichor seems to pour even more from the beast as Jennifer's disgust grows — almost like the demon knows all it has left is to incite some level of disgust into people that near it. The fluid begins to waft with the scent of rotting eggs.

*

Sinjin is still smouldering slightly where he burned through his jacket, shirt shredded, bleeding heavily from his the bites on his throat and arm, only slightly less from the claw marks. He lets the burning hounds go in a shower of sparks, reaches out with the balustrade to gently prod Jono in the shoulder.

"You okay, kid?" He ignores the mutation, focuses on Jono's eyes.

*

Mree gives Sheila one of his best smiles. It's even more handsome since it's in her imagination, pure warmth and caring, like some sort of cheerful green angel. "No relation to Norman?" he jokes with her gently, trying to keep the mood light. "You're going to be OK, Sheila. You were bitten by a dog," he oversimplfies things a little. "Do you think you can stand? I can help you, if you need it." Which is kind of true. Hallucinatory help has a strange way of convincing the subconscious to do things it otherwise mightn't.

*

As soon as Lilith is a pile of ash on the floor and no new threats emerge, Jono tosses the broken broom away from himself like he can't wait to be rid of it. He gives Sinjin a bit of a look at the prod but is too busy hurriedly gathering up his scarf to be too bothered. <Er. Yeah. Are you?> he asks, raising his eyebrows as he starts quickly winding his scarf back around his chest and face. <Yer, uh. Leakin' a bit. Should get that looked at.>

This is too much like socializing. Jono tries to focus on getting his scarf resettled, hiding the fire effectively once again. Much better. He casts a quick look around, his nose wrinkling, then gestures towards Mree and Sheila. <Somebody should call an ambulance.>

*
Pity for the horrible demon ichor… she's in the middle of Macy's. Not only is she in the middle of Macy's, they have abundant volumes of clothing, cleaning supplies, and shoes with which to foil its horrible plotting. So without further adieu, the She-Hulk tears the bottom part of her shirt away and throws it aside, sending off that sticky remnant of goo with it. Then she promptly hastens over to the rather troubled woman chatting to herself and bends over, scooping up Shiela into her arms. "You, madame, need to head to a hospital. Everyone does, but I apologize for not getting to you sooner." As if she had a choice. "Gentlemen, are you coming? Are you free to walk?"

*

Sheila wearily moves. "I… maybe?" she answers Mree. Every muscle in her body feels heavy, but the effects of the poison aren't wholly felt. She slowly comes to a stand. "I… I feel.." her knees give out and she begins to fall back to the floor. Heaviness, it seems, continues long term. The assistance from She-Hulk, helps right her in short order and she nods slightly at the assertion. "Yes… hospital would be… good…"

As if on cue, the sound of sirens can be heard outside the department store. Evidently, help is on its way.

*

Help. Police don't always bother to sort out who's the good guy or who's the bad guy. Sinjin grabs some linens and shoves a napkin against his bleeding throat.

"Better blow this place," he advises Jono. "People like us, they're not in a hurry to thank." He figures he can make it to a hospital before he passes out. People like us. He's never said that before.

*

Oh, here comes Ms. Walters. Mree's hallucinatory form steps back in order to let his boss at the poor woman, and he drifts along with her as she's taken up. Some others of his microbes make their way up Ms. Walters' nostrils, those well-known pathways to the thinkmeats, and then she can also see him stepping along beside her. "Sorry, Ms. Walters. I tried to help," he murmurs unobtrusively from her side, while he allows those sweet dreams to take Sheila back somewhere nice again.

*

Oh, Jono is free to walk, alright. He looks incredibly tempted to do so without even helping the bleeding man right in front of him. After a moment to hesitate over the matter, though, he just makes a frustrated noise at himself and gives Sinjin a prod to start walking, falling into step right behind him. <Comin', comin'. I'll make sure y'get somewhere without keelin' over, red.>

*

A gentle pat of those long fingers gives assurances as best Jennifer can. "It'll be fine, ma'am. Let me take you to get some help, and cleaned up some. You had a bit of a shock," she says, using a rudimentary knowledge of first aid paired with the obvious signs of being dragged off by a hellhound. The Thanksgiving Day parade is never quite so sinister as those inflatable balloons now having a trace of the infernal around them. Are undead going to leap out from the turkey? Is that floating cowboy about to sprout fangs and fall on people? Problems, lots of problems.

«There you are,» her thoughts mirror the murmur under her breath. «Good to see you happened to come out mostly unscathed.» See, no trouble at all. The men don't seem inclined to take her help, so she ends up leading the way out with that poor victim.

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