1964-05-15 - Effin Tourists
Summary: A dream monster from another dimension sends tendrils of awareness to scope out this reality. A situation ensues. Scene run by Kai.
Related: None
Theme Song: Dream A Little Dream Of Me, Mama Cass
lamont loki ben-reilly spawn strange kai 


He sprawls in his chair at O'Riley's tea shop, long legs in dark dress pants stretched out without fear of accidentally tripping anyone. The crimson scarf, slung loosely about his neck and overtop the black blazer, lays quietly; no fringes wiggle. Perhaps it's because Strange idly drags fingertips along the curve of it over his shoulder, even petting it nonchalantly. He's deep in thought, given how his half-lidded eyes look beyond the window and farther still.

"But what in the seven hells to do about it…" murmurs the Sorcerer, drumming the tips of his other fingers along the outside of his tea cup. The steam rises from the amber brew, thick with honey and chamomile. A soothing drink to slow down a mind running too fast as it is.

*

Al Simmons is not a man that really blends in very well: he's only a couple inches shy of seven feet tall, for one thing, and for a second, he's not skinny-tall. He's built like a truck. Every inch of his skin looks like it has more in common with melted wax then it does flesh, too, but he mostly hides that with the hooded jacket that his symbiote suit is currently camoflaged as. He's walking along the street, his dark eyes keeping a look out for trouble. Usually he does this from the rooftop, with his cape playing in the air, but every so often you can only learn some things if you get down in close. In particular, at an alley, he finds a homeless man, and crouches down, digging a couple dollars out of his pocket and offering it with his scarred hands, "Take this for *food*." His voice is the unholy union of gravel and sandpaper, having mated and produced the worst sounding voice ever, and then donated it to Al.

*

Loki is walking Kevin. OH GOD WHY. DAMMIT ALL TO HEL. Kai had to go in to work at weird hours, leaving the stupid dog trapped in the house too long and with all the dog catchers, he can't be trusted to just chill on the fire escape. So…Loki went to the apartment and fetched the doggie and his leash. Here he is, reincarnated Prince of Asgard, walking a dog that he can niether ride, nor be warbonded with, nor eat. Boy, Kevin sure seems to like him though, a smallish little mutt, just waggling along and sometimes almost tripping the graceful god because he's trying to be SO CLOSE to Loki.

*

Clear the table into the bin. Wipe it down. Take the bin to the back. Watch the pile of dishes grow. When you get done with the tables, it's wash, wash, wash. Then set. Then repeat. This is Ben Reilly's life because he didn't know how terribly expensive it was to live on your own in New York City without documentation and with jobs that will pay you under the table. He is a busboy at Jolly Belly Diner, not far from O'Riley's, where he is busy clearing, wiping, then washing, then setting.

*

Mrs. Riley's is about as hopping as it ever is, which is to say quaint and quiet. The old woman works at her counter, just like she usually does. Then she comes over to Strange's table with a package of tea. "There's someone outside who wants to see you," she says. At the window, a young, fresh-faced girl of about sixteen crooks a finger and smiles with eager expectation.

The homeless man Al gives the money to mumbles, "Thanks, pal. They've got people outside the Jolly Belly looking for you." His hand tightens around the cash, and he starts to cough violently.

As Kevin walks along, he snaps up scraps off the ground that squirrels (bastards) and pigeons (bastards) haven't gotten at yet. It's a race against time, so he goes from scrap to scrap eagerly, and someone outside Jolly Belly Diner just lost a burger to the pavement. Kevin strains against the leash. Oh god, burger. Burger, Loki. Burger! Standing outside the diner is a pair of tourists. Husband and wife, middle aged, pointing at this and that.

The man who just dropped his burger comes back inside the diner. "Hey, I just dropped my burger," he tells Reilly. "Can I get another? I didn't even get a bite of it yet."

*

Better late than never. And better anything than really late, right? In the 'late parrot' sense. Lamont's just wandering, dressed in jeans, t-shirt, heading nowhere in particular. Perhaps passing through on the way to Lambert's restaurant. But….if that's how he started, that's how he's stayed, and the gray eyes are vague and empty, focussed on somewhere else entirely.

*

The soft impact of the package of tea upon his table is cause for Strange to glance over at old Mrs. O'Riley. Oh — a package he'd forgotten about ordering? Or maybe just arriving so late that it's slipped his mind. Regardless, he grins first at her before glancing over at the window again.

…okay, that's…unexpected — and why is his memory attempting to jog itself? The girl's face is familiar, but…not. Looking perfectly bemused, the Sorcerer glances to the shop owner once more before rising to his feet.

"I wasn't expecting company, but I suppose I can speak with her briefly. Thank you," he adds. The small packet of tea is stuffed in the pocket of his blazer and he makes his way outside. The shop bell rings, 'Dingity-ding!', and then he's giving the teenager a skeptical look. "Can I help you?"

*

Used to getting information from the homeless, Al inclines his head to the homeless man, cuffs him lightly on the shoulder, and then rises and heads towards the Jolly Belly. He's not sure if the message was a warning of something to avoid or a suggestion of something to find— but for Simmons, the difference is a function of degree. He isn't the sort who avoids problems, unless they're named Malebolgia or have a name that starts with V. As he nears to the Jolly Belly, he looks around, not really doing a good job of keeping his head down and hiding his scars.

*

Loki doesn't even fight it. OBVIOUSLY he's going to let Kevin have the burger. Though, weirdly, he does kick the onions out of the way so that if they have to endure dog farts, at least they won't be oniony dog farts. All worth it for his evil plan though. He glances up from the burger to see at least one man he recognizes, and the other he doesn't, though he's hard not to notice, being so tall as he is. He makes a humming sound in greeting and lifts his hand to Strange, though he doesn't interrupt the man's conversation with the dwarf. Or is that a child.

*

"Yeah, sure, man. I mean. Bummer," Ben responds as he waves his hands every which way. "To be honest, I'm really just a busboy. That sounds like a managerial decision. If you wanna wait right here, I can go get them. It won't be long." Ben wipes his dirty hands on the white apron he wears over his body and begins to wander aimlessly, like young men at work are wont to do, as he searches for the manager.

*

A little boy comes up to Lamont and says, "I'm supposed to bring you to the Jolly Burger. He smiles, and his teeth are a little on the sharp side, but he's just so gosh-darn cute. "Come on, it'll be fun. We're going to rip one of your minds apart." Then he starts toward the Jolly Burger, glancing over his shoulder to see what Lamont does.

The young woman bounces with excitement when Strange comes out. Her hands clasp together, and she says, "Yes, yes, you can help me. Do you see that man down the street? The one going into the diner? We're going to kill one of you if you don't help us." Her the fingers of her clasped hands briefly narrow into tendrils that wrap around one another, twisting like nightcrawlers poured on the ground. A blink and they're normal again. She nods earnestly. "Help us."

As Al approaches the Jolly Belly, he sees the guy going inside to complain about his burger, and the tourist couple, who wave at him when they see him. The woman waves at him and tells her husband, "He's just beautiful." She then waves him over as the husband offers him an amicable smile.

Kevin wolfs down that burger, wagging his tail so fast it's a blur. The round-bellied little dog isn't missing very many meals, and Loki is the best as he's more than a little responsible for that. The tourist couple look over at him, and the husband murmurs, "His is a good one, all twisty turns." He then raises his voice and says, "What's that you've got? With the thing on its behind doing this." He makes a wagging motion. "I want one of those."

The man looks at Reilly oddly, then he says, "Hey, pal. It's okay. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm not really supposed to be eating red meat anyway. It's bad for the old ticker." He taps his chest with a fist a few times. Then he steps outside, and as the door swings closed, Reilly can hear him say to thin air, "Sure, I'll pose for a picture, who's got a camera?"

*

Maybe it'll be fun? But…..Lamont's been on inadvertant vision quests before, smashed himself against the gates between dimensions like a dog smushing his nose on a too-clean glass door. He's as armed as he ever gets in an occult sense, unless he really wants to go for the nuclear option and bring the Phurba…..so he trails after the boy, a little frown furrowing his brow.

*

The Sorcerer draws up tall, his eyes narrowing even as his irises take on a growing frosted-violet gleam. A quick glance over his shoulder to spot the man in question. No recognition comes to mind either.

"Really now? And how are you going to go about that?" He levels a withering glare upon the young teenager. Perhaps he can play off the enthusiasm of this…disturbing creature in human guise.

*

Al isn't easy to surprise: but he comes to a halt as the woman calls him beautiful and beckons him over. It's about the most implausible and impossible thing to ever happen, but his curiosity is piqued. "Hello." he greets with his rough, broken voice, looking the woman and her husband over with a slightly narrowed eye. Suspicious, somewhat: this can't be what it appears to be.

*

Loki looks at the tourist, then at Kevin, then the tourist, then some other random stranger as if to ask them if they are hearing this too, then back to the couple once again. His viridescent eyes squint slightly and his head cocks to the right. "You mean…the /do-OG?/" Both his eyebrows and the pitch of his voice raise at the extention of the final word. "I do not know the breed. I do not think it /has one/. But, bring me a bitch and some money…and we can make some more…"

*

Reilly waves it off and stops searching for the manager. Well, apparently it's not that big of a deal. He's about to take up his station at table 21 when a sharp tingle assaults his nervous system with a thousand little pinpricks up and down his spine. "Well this isn't good," he says to himself. Apron comes off and is thrown onto the chair. Gus from the back yells to him, "Hey kid! Where ya goin?""Smoke break!" Ben responds. He doesn't smoke, much, except in order to get another break at work. Gus figures he should start smoking.

Underneath his blue hoodie is a faint bit of red. He hits the door hard and emerges out onto the street in order to see what in the heck is setting him off.

*

The boy skips, leading the way to the tourist couple outside the Jolly Burger. They've turned to a man walking out of the diner, and the wife says, "Would you like to take a picture with us?" He agrees, asks after a camera. The boy slows his steps, calling toward the couple, "I got another one!" The man looks over and says, "Great job, son. He's going to want to see this."

The girl tosses her pretty brown curls over her shoulder with a roll of her head, and she says to the Sorcerer, "Like this." With a flick of her tendriled fingers, for Strange and Strange alone, the world goes dark. Wanda, the boys, they're there. His friends, his associates, the dark world broadens its scope to include strangers, and they all, all of them, turn to look at Strange, reaching out their hands. It's Wanda who starts it, that horrible scream that comes rattling out of her throat. Then the boys, the friends, then everyone else. The world screams in his ears, ''Why couldn't you save us!?'' Time stops. The stars fall from the heavens. And Stephen knows, deep in his heart, he could have stopped it, if only. If only. That's the big question. Somewhere in the midst of the sinking feeling that engulfs him, there's the girl's voice. "Cool, huh?"

The woman, after patting the burger guy on the arm, crooks a finger at Al and says, "Come here, handsome. You're going to want to see this. This guy here, we're going to show you what we'll do to all these nice people if you don't help us."

The stranger Loki looks at eyes him oddly. "Who are you talking to?" he says. The man considers Loki's offer. "Like this?" he asks. He flicks his fingers. Long, long fingers. Then there's a… thing. On the sidewalk. It looks like a dog created by someone who had only just had a dog described to them for the first time. It's kind of Kevin's shape and size. The eyes are different sizes. The tongue that lolls out of its mouth is forked. It has three tails but they're all wagging. Instead of barking, it says in a rough voice, "Your brother will never forgive you."

And outside, there are a pair of tourists who weren't there a moment ago. They've beckoned the burger guy toward them. The woman has just spoken to Al, and… well, basically Reilly can see it all now.

*

He's drifting after the little boy, reluctantly. This feels neither right nor good. But then there's the Sorcerer, who seems not to see him. Along the threads of dreaming minds, his own edges along to touch Stephen's, very lightly. It's an unpleasantly spidery feeling - even in the enforced honesty of telepathy, Lamont's a spooky bastard. Can't help himself. «Strange,» His mental voice is crisp. «Strange, can you hear me? It's Cranston.»

*

Belatedly — far too late for him to consider it for more than half a second, Strange realizes that he saw the youngest Prince on the sidewalk behind, down the sidewalk.

The teenager's hand rising up brings him to mirror her in a mudra of defense, subtle but resonating, but again — far too late. Velvety blackness drops like a sudden blow and he stumbles back in mute surprise. Scarred hand fly into a more complicated set of gestures, but they slow, become eventually still, as he sees his Consort walk into a faint light. Billy — Tommy — Pietro — Karl? Asgardians, Alfheimians, beings from other dimensions entirely, the mundane from old Mrs. O'Riley to the cool expression on Doctor Palmer's face.

Something is wrong, so very wrong! Icy panic floods his veins even as the Witch reaches out, brows quirked in concern, and he reaches back, only a wrist's width away — to be physically battered by the sounds that erupt around him. Agony in every pitch and key rattles his teeth in his skull as he flinches, covering his ears uselessly.

"No," he breathes, defiance holding back fear with trembling knees. Thump-thud, hollowly, his heart beats on in mocking time to some pendulum that defies the tender brush of kid-skin gloves along his cheek. Pat-pat, every so sorry, sympathetic insinuations and all that from She Who Waits for him.

What happened — more importantly, how?! His knees hit some hard surface even as distant impacts of shattering werelights rumble the ground beneath him. "No…!" A little louder this time, even as his stomach cleaves to his backbone and his fingers go numb with cold.

A voice. A name. Exhaling in a shuddering gasp, Strange continues to kneel and the reply comes distantly, as if the Sorcerer is mentally winded: «Cranston?» The tang of metallic disbelief follows in the wake of his words. «Can't see — blinded — death everywhere.»

*

Al frowns at the woman, his eyes narrowing, his burned face darkening somewhat. "I do not respond well to threats." he growls deeply. His clothes transform, as K7-Leesha is made manifest. A fitting suit of black with white marks like a V on his chest before slashing around to his back, and vaguely avian marks of white over his black-masked face. The high-collared red cape seems to meld right out of his skin, pooling around him lightly like a protective shroud, the fabric slowly spreading out from his position as if growing and alive. His eyes glow with an infernal green light. "You have one chance to flee, and only because I am feeling generous. I do not often give warnings." He turns around and looks at the various other people who seem to be strangely… involved, with whatever this strangeness is. For the moment he doesn't involve himself with them.

*

NOPE. Loki watches as this horror show unfolds like a progressively worsening event. Not like. It is. From the freakish dog that is not a dog, but only a child's drawing come to life, to the sudden way it speaks to him of his own worries, he takes a step back, tugging on the leash to make sure Kevin isn't anywhere near that dog-shaped thing. "What is this? Who are you?" That there were people he recognized around him before, he seems drawn in by how personal this attack is.

*

No one seems to be paying much attention to Ben, and it doesn't take anything for him to slip on his mask. That's the benefit of a god-awful costume. "Hey, burger guy. Hey, somethin' about those folks gives me the not so good feelin. You know what I mean? Like when those nachos just don't agree with you. How's about you and me head over this way." (Read: away from those folks).

*

The little boy looks at Lamont, looks down the street at Strange, and he says, "Ooh, he's a big one." Then he runs over to his 'mom' and 'dad' and tells them, "Come on, let's just do it already. Maybe he can tell us what we need to know." His 'father' says, "Now, son. We've got all these fine folks. Powerful folks. Heroes." He inclines his head to Ben. "This guy, he's just… what do they call it? Meat."

Meanwhile, the girl snaps her tendrils and the nightmare is gone, returning Strange to spring in New York and a world of light and potential. "Not so good for the ticker is it. Anyway, I need to go. This is the first one and I don't want to miss it. We'd really love it if you could attend." Then she turns, making to run back up the street to the Jolly Burger.

People scream when Spawn manifests his costume and cape. Some in excitement: a mask and cape! He must be a hero! Others in dismay. He's a scary bastard. Still others just book it out of the area. Most of the people do, in fact. A few stand in place, looking at the family. Only the family. They murmur to themselves things like, "Amazing," and, "so beautiful." They're transfixed by thin air. The woman turns her head at a strange angle to look at Spawn. "What's a threat?" she asks blankly.

After chastising Junior, the man tells Loki, "We're perspectives of a One. It needs the help of strong minds, exceptional minds, to open the gate and let it in. This place is great. It has burgers, and this guy." He jerks a thumb at burger guy. The 'dog' pipes up, "And that thing." Kevin seems entirely unaware of the creature and sniffs around at the base of a lamppost, then hikes a leg.

Burger guy turns to Ben. "They want a picture," he says. "Does this seem weird to you? I don't feel so good." He puts a hand to his chest. "Do you see those vultures circling around? Look at their eyes. Their eyes, man." Vultures? At least the 'family' have turned their attention appealing their case to the others.

*

«Look and see what I see. It's an illusion, a mental attack.» And then Strange has a curious case of double vision, himself standing weak-kneed, seen from not far away…..then the impression of support, like a hand beneath his elbow. Lamont's skills may be far more limited, but he's definitely got a handle on sheer defensive stubborness. The girl releases Strange from that hellish vision, and Lamont withdraws. Now he's the one a little wobbly.

*

The velvety blackness, resounding with silence now that the phantom screams have ceased, seems to get staticky for a second as brutal logic sideswipes the sickening panic curling about his innards. Strange takes in the double-vision and shakes his head hard. Up to his feet, even as the horrifying illusionary world ceases to be around him, and he wheels as he watches the teenager fairly skip towards the diner.

Back comes the Sorcerer's voice, rallying in strength and steadiness for each word: «Cranston, bring the big guns. I suspect a banishment is in order.» The crimson scarf about his neck flutters even as he gets to striding after the teenager, literally rolling up the sleeves to his blazer and shirt alike.

*

This response gives Spawn pause, as he regards the woman with his glowing eyes. They narrow to slits. "What is it you want?" he asks dangerously. A chain slowly slithers from his chain belt and rises slowly up, undulating in the air as if it were a snake, the end pressing towards the woman: to anyone else it would be an unmistakable threat. Apparently she might not speak threat, though. Still, at least most people fled.

*

«I fear what I have on me is….me,» Lamont replies, a touch sardonically, but he hurries to catch up with Strange. One hand turns the ring on the finger of the other, setting the jewel towards his palm. Not quite running - a gentleman does not run. Not unless it's a matter of life and death.

*

"You want to…come here? What…are you?" Then he remembers…Strange. Strange would know how to solve this weird dog-thing at least. Banish it somewhere. He reaches down and scoops up Kevin. "StrANNNGGE?! Something is happening!" And he tries to head down the sidewalk to the man, but like any dream, its like his feet are lead. "Something wants through!" The brunette shudders, then grabs for a wire stand that holds the ketsup and mustard on the tables. If he cannot run from the weird couple and their pet, he WILL fight them with chrome-plated brass.

*

"Meat! Why is it because I'm tender and tasty?" exclaims the Scarlet Spider, even as he's sliding his arm around burgerboy. "Yeah, you don't look so good, partner. Could be a bout with the ole gas. Better get a seatbelt for the toilet, if you know what I mean. I see bad things in your future. Or," he says as he tries to turn the burgerman away from the couple and start walking in the opposite direction. Because photos are for your aunt Edna. "Or, it could be a heart attack."

*

The girl looks back and sees Strange booking it, looking like he means business. "Ha!" she shrieks, and she runs! Like it's all some fun game. Back to mom and dad and junior. "Come on come on come on we've got the minds! Let's do it already!" She calls to Lamont as she sees him, "Hi!"

The woman looks at the chain, then Spawn, then the chain. She detaches from her husband's side to come closer to it. "What is it?" she asks. She reaches out a hand, and her tendril fingers extend, trying to probe and touch the metal.

The man smiles broadly at Loki. "Good job, old chap. Finally someone understands! Now, we're going to show you how we're going to clear out some space. There's a lot of psychic noise, but don't worry, you guys will be fine."

The man nods quickly to Ben. He's clammy, ashen. "I can't stop seeing her face. My wife. She died, but I can't stop seeing her. She's hurting. She's hurting so badly." And his heart is beating too fast in his distress.

Around him, the half-dozen people who remain, murmuring to themselves start to go wide-eyed. The murmurs of how fascinating and beautiful turn to, "Oh god," and screams. One of the half-dozen, a woman in a nice sun dress, turns and runs. "Get him!" junior cries, and his arms grow longer, the better to gallop with, pursuing the screaming woman. She ran track, though, and she's fast. Too fast. Junior stops short past a certain point and whines, "No fair. The barrier's too thick here." His arms become arms again and his tendriled hands feel about like a mime with an invisible wall. The woman, on the other side, shakes her head, looks around, then keeps running.

Kevin, meanwhile, licks Loki's face, his tail wagging. Loki is the best! Loki is the best! This is the best day ever.

*

«It'll do in a pinch,» thinks the Sorcerer even as the crimson scarf is unfurling out to become a very visible and animated Cloak upon his shoulders. He hears Loki's words and nods, calling back, "Indeed, that seems to be the case!"

In this odd dream-like pocket dimension, he is no lesser for his power and wills it to surge through him. The air thrums, the invisible barriers protest, and both scarred hands begin an intricate dance before his sternum even as he plants himself.

«Cranston, if you would prevent them from doing anything further. Anything.» By the super-indigo tendrils of magic dancing in miniature comets about his fingers, it's clear that there's a humdinger of a banishment spell in the works. Whatever thinks is coming through is about to get a Sorcerous kick to the teeth.

*

Spawn's patience is at an end. When the tentacle woman touches his chain, it reacts swiftly, sweeping forward to try to slither around her tentacle arm and then farther, to seek to wrap her up in the chain so she can be lifted. He, at least, doesn't try to crush her even if he does get hold. A second chain rises up from his belt then, beginning a quick rotation around its master, ready to strike. The pool of red that spills out around him perks up, a flickering of cloth rising in defiance of the wind and inching towards Stephen Strange.

*

Loki is not sure what is trying to come through, only that it is trying to use his mind to do it. He looks over at Strange, then down at Kevin, which means he gets licked all over the face. UGH. Maybe he slightly finds it endearing. SLIGHTLY, KEVIN. "Hold on." He whispers. And then…he tries to attack the touristy couple with his Asgardian strength, as a start, to see if that helps or affects them at all, really.

*

"You and me both, buddy," Scarlet Spider responds. It's suddenly a lot less funny. He can't get his love out of his head. Ben can't get Gwen out of his, but, worse, it isn't even a real memory. It's a voyeur's memory. "I'm going to get you out of here," he says as he fires a web out into the distance. "We're gonna get someone to look at this heart of yours. Just stay calm."

*

With more courage than sense, Lamont's at least figuratively leaping into the breach. He makes a series of gestures, like a man fingerweaving a net at speed, deft interlace….though there are no shimmering lines left by his fingertips, unlike Strange. Webs of what look almost like smoke, or ink in water, trailing off into indistinctness. For a moment, it's complete, a dark shape…and then throwing his hands apart, it explodes forward into nothingness.

Whatever he's caught, though….it's too much for him. For his muscles lock, as if he were overloaded with some kind of current, eyes rolling back to white crescents. Then there's blood, a slow trickle from mouth and nose. Looks like it caught him in turn, the biter bit.

He's caught in that worst and oldest nightmare. The plane, that fragile construction of wood and canvas, is burning behind him, fluttering away in leaves of ash. The trenches beneath are rushing up towards him, earth raw and gaping, ready to accept the inevitable sacrifice - the pale faces beneath, turning up to him, filled with terror to match his own.

*

The tendrily ones don't like being messed with, Lamont. They don't, and they shriek as their hold on these nice bystanders is shaken. They lash tendrils out at Lamont, and junior grows larger, larger still, and when he opens his mouth, his sharp teeth elongate into fangs almost a foot long. The others start to follow suit. «Stop it!» comes a singular command that rattles everyone's mind. Even Kevin stops licking Loki's face long enough to look around, tongue lolling. It's brief.

But the people around them blink and shake themselves out of their nightmares. "What's happening?" says one man. Another snaps out of it, sees his teenage daughter doing the same, and he hugs her, half-sobbing, "I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you." One gets the bright idea: "Let's get out of here!" And that's what they start to do.

Except burger guy. His nightmare ends, and when he snaps out of it, he whispers, "Brenda…" Then, to Ben, "I'm not ready to join her. Please don't let me join her." He cooperates, and Ben is able to take him wherever Ben wants to. He might be meat (bastards), but he can do something they can't even conceive of. He can save a life.

The now-monsters lash out at the (some nominal) heroes that remain. But while they cling to these forms, chains strike and Asgardian strength hurts. So do their teeth, and they're bitey. They're a match, but they're not unbeatable. They are angry, however. The woman tries to take Spawn's head off. Junior and pa lunge at Lamont. Sister goes after Strange, screeching in unholy rage.

*

Well, this is all headed south quickly. Strange can see at least one bystander get whisked away to safety beyond the invisible barrier by a masked young person — good!!! He's well aware of the bright red cape on this other nefarious-looking individual and its interest in him, but the crimson Cloak will run interference as need be. Those hem snaps are a locker room towel's enraged and steriod-buffed cousin.

More people scatter, which is perfect, because the touristy family is suddenly very angry. The mental command causes the briefest flinch on his part, but it's no skin off his back. The banishment spell is paused with a Word of censure and Sister gets to face the sizzling, sparking crack of a suddenly-summoned surujin of molten magic. Bullwhips wish they were this cool. Shy of her face, it snaps like gunshot in warning — the next blow is aimed about her torso and it's sure to burn upon impact if it lands home.

The wispy mental connection to Lamont seems to have faded and Strange sends out a clarion shout back to the Mystic: «Cranston! CRANSTON!» Like an ancient bell rung, it echoes around the pocket dimension.

*

That shout brings him out of that horrible dream….but it leaves him dazed long enough for Junior to get those terrible teeth in him. There's a yell of pain from him….and then a knife in his hand, come from who knows where. No more trying to fight these things mind to mind, not after that. He's pale as paper and there's blood on his face, but Lamont's lashing out with surprising speed.

*

The chains are twice as strong as Spawn is, and Spawn can throw cars. As the chain lifts the tentacle-woman up, he is at first not intending to fight anymore then that: but she strikes out. His cape is fast, lifting up to deflect much of the blow, but enough lands to send him rolling on the ground— but that is not enough to win free of the chains, for they move almost of their own volition. The chains proceed to squeeze. A lot. A hot anger touches his face as he flips back onto his feat, his cape now fluttering behind him and spreading as if caught by a wind that is not there. He is officially Annoyed, and everyone knows you deal with Annoyance by wholesale slaughter.

*

Loki fights fiercely with one hand, his left still cradles Kevin. But, he can kick too, launching those long legs one after the other at the villains trying to breach the world. He really cannot have more than one 'thing everyone blames him for' going on at a time, and this would put him over the quota. He buries his hand in a followup into the gentleman's face, putting him down, but the female and the dog are a little harder to hit. That's when he reaches up and unhooks Kevin's leash. Then he flings the braided cord with the metal clip on the end, like its a whip, just to get her to be still enough to destroy. If anyone manages to see it, its both brutal and also hilarious, with Kevin trying to lick his fierce face the whole time.

*

Sister lashes out at Strange with teeth and tendrils, but the molten magic hits, and she shrieks in pain and anger. She sizzless, and the air smells of ozone, dust, and attar of roses. She's driven back, as though Strange were some kind of lion tamer, though she still lashes and snaps her massive, angler-fish fangs at him.

Junior savages Lamont like a dog with an old shoe, but his stabbity stab stab rips open the twisted mockery of a boy. Black ichor and grey froth erupt from the body, and Junior drops Lamont, yelping and snarling.

The woman struggles and bites at the chains, finding them infuriatingly impossible to destroy that way. She becomes a writhing ball of tendrils lashing out, trying to slither free of her containment, but with Loki joining in with the leash, it's all she can do to try to smack them. They're really making this hard.

Meanwhile, the 'dog' latches onto Loki's leg and snarls, though it's kind of like someone described a dog snarling and biting, and this is the result. Kevin, the real dog, is not bright enough to join the shared experience. He runs around in circles, his crackly doggy voice letting up a howl. Ah-roo roo roo! *crackle* -roo! Like a tiny coyote who smokes a pack a day. He has no idea what's going on, but he just wants to be part of it somehow.

*

The translucent walls of this pocket dimension begin to resound with the refraction of vibration, a growing chromatic scale of echoing notes that impress upon anyone who should not be within this realm that the train is departing and they'd better hop on-board — or they're getting a rude boot and the door will hit them on the way out.

Too late for any forgiveness now. These tendrily bastards drew first blood. The younger Prince seems to be holding his own (and that scruffy stray, quite the multitasking), the mysterious man with the red cape has things under control in his section, and as Strange glances to Lamont, he's well aware that a healing spell will be put to summons shortly after the dust settles. Sister is spun like a twisted top as he yanks back the molten surujin. Then, all it takes a few more Words and…

Roman candles of incandescent light burst out from hands spread wide, palms out, and wrap streamers of live-wire power about every single tendrily creature. They might arch and screech and try for one last demonic draw of blood, but all for naught. From freaky not-quite-dog all the way up to the mockery of a family man, they're banished, back to the dimension from whence they came.

Around them, the barriers reach a high pitch of sound and then…shatter into a million glittering pieces that instantly evaporate into thin air. Back to the real world, burgers and all.

*

Sister, junior, ma, pa, and the family dog, each smacking with tendrils and snapping with teeth, held at bay by the strong, powerful minds they were foolish enough to solicit for help in their intended takeover, are unable to harm any other bystanders today. Though those who do pass into the radius of the thin barrier are affected, they feel mere trepidation, because the fight takes too much focus from the tendrily ones to build true nightmares. The tendrilies take their lumps. They can bleed, and that means something.

And then they freeze as Strange works his mojo. Then, in unison, they throw back their heads, shrieking as one, and their forms swirls like water down a drain, shrinking into nothing until, poof, they're gone.

*

He's suffered worse and come through…but that's a lot of shock at once. Lamont's a mess - from cool dignity to a bleeding heap in minutes. The older magician's gone down to one knee, hand pressed to his side. Junior's done a number on him, and there's blood welling through the long fingers and staining the white linen of his shirt. Still holding the knife. Apparently that his default when cornered: if magic won't do, six inches of Solingen steel will have to step in. English sangfroid has not departed, however. In the mildest of voices, he observes, "Goodness. I didn't expect *that*."

*

Normally, Spawn is a shoot 'em up sort of fellow. It's not that Leesha is not a perfectly evolved killing machine, for she is. Its not that he isn't capable of beating people to death, for he is. But years and years of habit and magical power that is, strictly speaking, limited, mean he reverts to said habit naturally. Bullets are endless: he can break into gun stores easily. The problem? He doesn't have his guns now, and so as the Woman thrashes and as the squeezing might of the chains are not showing themselves to be enough to rip her to pieces, Spawn lifts a hand. There in his palm gathers pure necroplasm: the blood and power of hell itself. A raging green inferno of raw power that is fundamentally inimical to life is gathered into his palm— and then the chains tighten as the creatures vanish.

Spawn is left there holding death in a hand, and with no one to throw it at. He frowns. He narrows his glowing green eyes. And tendrils of black rise up from fingers and palms and hand as his suit, Leesha of the 7th House of K, devours the essence of hell into her beings. The chains slowly withdraw back to him, settling in around his waist like a belt. The cape seems to shrink into a size more appropriate a cape (even on his huge frame), hanging seemingly lifelessly around him.

Spawn turns and regards Strange for a long moment, "Hmm."

*

Loki takes some growling lopsided damage from the dog, and dammit…can he not find a spell that will make Kevin transform into something bigger in situations like this? But no, he doesn't have one. Its all manual beatings, with a leash, and his fists, until they are covered in interdimensional blood and the stuff of nightmares. He's all a terrible mess. The other dog, he kicks into oblivion, and when they get sucked into the void, he drops to his knees and starts to look around. That's when he finally notices that the giant man from before is pretty fucking scary. He seems doubtful, like maybe the portal missed a guy."Are you one…of them? Or one of us?"

*

Just like that, there is peace and, on the fringes of the area, still well away from Spawn, frankly, there is a scattering of small applause. At least those people there at the end, trapped as they were in their trepidation, saw it all go down. Unlike Kevin who merely watched people he sort of knows (or doesn't) suddenly get slashed up and battered about. When Loki falls to his knees, the little dog hurries over to him and bounces to lick his face. Then he runs around in circles a few more times.

*

A long sigh escapes Strange's teeth as he lowers his now-aching hands. The shadows of the nightmare dance through his expression, drawing it in stone and flint-bright eyes, and then it passes. Wonderful, immediate problem resolved, time for clean-up.

The tall and rather foreboding gentleman in the red cape, now hanging in suspicious normalcy, is given a circumspect and continued glare as the Sorcerer walks calmly over to where Lamont kneels. Only when he reaches out to put a hand lightly on the practitioner's shoulder does he look away.

"I don't think anyone did," he murmurs, frowning at the spread of brilliant blood on the stark-white shirt. "Hold still. This shouldn't hurt, but it might feel a bit cold." The healing spell is subtle, kept deliberately low-resonance, and gloves Strange's spread digits in pale spring-sky blue. It should sink into the skin beneath it and immediately get to closing up what wounds exist, hunting down contamination and burning it out; meanwhile, it takes narrow-eyed focus from the healer, who seems to go into a mild trance.

*

There's a grunt of acknowledgement from Lamont. He doesn't trance out. Instead, he's watching Spawn with a kind of cold curiosity. That's infernal, that is.But….the enemy of my enemy is my friend. And the hellspawn did fight on their side.

*

"I am not one of them." Spawn's voice is rugged, harsh, and pained. "I am not one of you." There is a considering pause, "I am closer to being one of you then being one of them." he concedes. Grudgingly. "I choose to reject the mantle of hell." Of course, the Asgardians around might hear 'hell' and think of something besides the Judeo-Christian realm. And then… the suit all transforms. The mask slides away, the chains become less prominant, the suit itself jeans and a long hooded trenchcoat. The horrible burns that cover every inch of his visible skin— largely his face and hands— become apparent, but he lifts those hands up and pulls up the hood. "I am not one of anyone." And he turns to stalk away.

*

And one by one, they go their ways. Strange opens a Gate and steps through, because the Sorcerer Supreme doesn't take cabs. The waking world washes back into the place, and though there are knocked over chairs and ketchup stains on the sidewalk, the ichor itself seeps into the pavement, fading away like the dream itself. It takes awhile, all night and into the morning, but life does return to normal. As normal as it gets around here.

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