16670/Interlude: SSSSSSSSSSSSsh, we're hunting wabbits

Interlude: SSSSSSSSSSSSsh, we're hunting wabbits
Date of Scene:	03 January 2025
Location:	Melville, NYC, places -- Eastern Seaboard
Synopsis:	The devil and his Sin go hunting for a psychic vampire or sorts
Cast of Characters:	Phantasm (Drago), Sinister, Lucifer

---

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Ccccrrr crrrr... Cccrrrr... crrrrrr.

As the train travels down the tunnel, there's a flickering of light escaping from the departing vehicle before a turn obscures the light forever.

...Ok that's a little melodramatic. It's more like about fifteen minutes until the next train.

Well, on a good day. But fifteen minutes is more than enough time for one Crosby Cochran.

The buggered being glances about for any signs of others before he carefully slips off of the platform onto the tracks, making sure not to touch the one rail that is a guaranteed bad end.

The man is more or less of similar appearance as before save for the dirtied tote he carries.

There's a clinking of glass within the bag as he settles down, a hand shifting to settle the contents of the bag before he moves further into the tunnels with a set purpose.

Down into the shadows where just the slightest of emergency lights light the way.

It takes minutes to get where he needs to go but the fifteen minutes is more than enough for him to reach a dark crevice near a turn. Twisting to the side, he shimmies between a sufficient enough gap to lead into what is more or less a forgotten empty space. Who knows what it was for- But judging from the pile of discarded 'I love New York' Tees, it's a makeshift home.

Hungry.

As Crosby reaches the other side of the room, there is the squeal of another train.

See? Fifteen minutes is just the right amount of time.

Ccccrrr crrrr... Cccrrrr... crrrrrr.

So...damn...Hungry.

Sinister has posed:
So, it was informed to the devil, that there was an individual with a bug in his head.

That there was hunger.
That it was aimed at the soupkitchen and the possibility that it might have well been Nick on the shitlist there. Then again, it might not have been and this individual may be in for a very bad night ANYWAY. There are deals to be had, when the hunger is that strong, that bad, who knows what might come of it.

An army of rats, all with glowing red eyes, avoid the live rail on the subway. They move as rats do, but with a singular purpose. A hive mind, because all of those rodents lead the way through the dark, piloted by one mind. It should be quite dramatic, if the devil makes his own entrance in his own special way.

<<Up in the tunnel. Homeless I think. And still hungry.>> A chorus of Sinvoices from a plague of rats is a thing.

Lucifer has posed:
One thing Lucifer has never really let on is that while he can use his power to get him from one place to another rather quickly. Be it the other side of a room or the other end of the planet. He could do it in a two-step boogaloo each time. However, he can also keep pace with other creatures. And that's what he does. Able to still hear the Sinvoices of the rat pack that is currently marching through the subway. He's skittering against the wall above them, carefully moving forward one small jump at a time so as to not get ahead of the SinRat Pack.

<<The question is... what is he hungry for?>> Sinister might have told him, but then again maybe not. They think this one is after Nick somehow, but the how is the unknown. So they're researching. Well, at this point, invading...to an extent. The Devil might be the wild card here ... and still he skitters along.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Upon getting to where he needs to go, the likely homeless figure's steps slow. With the tracks not going through here, there's less of a rush to get to his next chosen destination.

Nearing the shirts he sits himself down, gently placing the bag beside him before he opens the tote. Pulling out two green bottles with golden color screwcaps on each, he sets them both beside the bed with care.

Fully seated, he starts to shed off his layers of mismatched attire. There's likely more layers taken off than one would probably assume he was wearing, exposing a bit of a machinist look.

A spoon is then produced. Studied for a moment.

One will be enough.

The spoon looks so small though.

...Okay, two. But no more. Need to make this last.

But- HUNGRY.

Leaning forward Crosby crumples slightly, eyes closing as he gives a sob.

No. Just two. No more. It must last.

HUNGRY.

No it mus-

HUNGRY!

The slightest tantalizing scent wafts over.

Sniff.

An eye opens. Crosby stills...and gnashes his teeth. Oooh BBQ Rat. That could fill in the gap.

Wait. BBQ?

There's a sense of worry. Is something on fire?

Sinister has posed:
Barbequed rat?

<<His mind is babbling.>> inform the rat swarm.
<<His name is Crosby. Crosby Cochran. This is not purely hunger, it seems to be Hunger. You and I, we know a flavour of such a Hunger, I think.>>

The first of the rats reaches the light of dim electrics in the tunnels. The workers need to be able to see where they're going after all. Regular track workers do not get supplied with such things as night-vision goggles, merely lamplight on the walls, inspersed infrequently and sometimes non-functional. And torches, of course. But theirs is not work that is destined to be bathed in comfortable and easy light.

The rat advances, a second arrives, then a third. All three watch the machinist in his rags, with his bottles and his intense Famine.

<<Then again, this might be schitzophrenia combined with an unfortunate addiction to what I fondly call 'Vile green fairy liquid' -- methodone. Or heroine.>> The rats nose sniffle, the whisker's twitch. One sits up.

But they all stare, with those red, red eyes.

"Crosby..." surely that's just a voice in the dark. It isn't coming from the minds of multiple rats. Telepathy is something that happens to heros up in the light, not beneath the streets. To heros.

Two more rats come forward, stare.

"He comes. You should prepare."

<<I might be a total git, at times.>> a much quieter thought.

Lucifer has posed:
<<Or a combination of all things...>> Lucifer thinks back, and he continues to follow the rats. BBQ rats indeed. Brimstone can smell like rotten eggs, sulfur. Not really all that appetizing. But midnight and forests can waft together to bring an alight among the senses to remind one of firelight.

The shadow skitters, then, to get ahead of the Rat Pack and coalesces into the figure of a man. Only is it truly a man? A trick of the eye? Lucifer is playing on the shadows, and hasn't truly come to his true human form, but he's also not completely away from his shadowed self. An in between. "Crosby. Why do you hide here in the dark?" The figure asks, his voice something soothing like a cool breeze but addictive like heroine. A ride that one may not ever find an end to if they aren't careful enough.

"I think I preceeded my entrance... ah well... shit happens..."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
The thin man watches as a glow of eyes approaches. However the reaction to a rat approaching is not of concern.

Could drink that.

An arm lifts, cautiously reaching towards the rat, trying to not make too sudden a movement. The second one appearing doesn't raise concern. If anything that's two chances.

Two spoons and one of those. Yes. That could do.

For now.

When the third arrives, a confused glance forms upon the man's features.

Eyes widen as his name is called, causing for him to glance around, forgetting about the rats.

Oh no.

No nonono...Two isn't enough.

But must ra

You have TWO bottles. You can drink the one.

Ratio-

You've LOST YOUR MIND NOW DRINK!

Body twisting, Crosby reaches for one bottle unscrewing the cap before starting to chug the coppery contents.

Someone comes?

Prepare what?

HE CAN'T HAVE THE OTHER BOTTLE.

With the added movement coming to his field of vision, a sense of dread wraps in as his feet press down on the floor to push himself back away from the movement.

"RAUGYH!" A malformed, clumsy utterance of discontent for the change in situation escapes from his lips with a spray of the bottle's contents flying towards the newest intruder.

Scootch. Scootch. Scootch.

Well great. Now he's in a corner.

But he's got his bottles.

Great another claim jumper.

Both bottles?

...There's a pause as Crosby looks to the newcomer.

Does he know him?

Sinister has posed:
"Of course you know him. You know his name. All mankind that walk and crawl know his name. But few believe it when he comes for them out of the dark."

<<A /total/ and /utter/ git. Vampire. Trying very hard to hold on, it looks like, probably has no idea what to do.>>

Another rat arrives in the spread of light, this one waving paws in the air and doing a little hoo-rah-rah dance. A dance. A rat.

<<Spank me later.>>

And two rats. Then three, all in a row, doing the hula hula.

"Eating rats is filthy. We're carriers of disease you know. Filth. Base. Contamination. Your disease is enough, descendent of Caine."

Lucifer has posed:
<<Oh I'll do more than spank you, you hula dancing nit...>> Lucifer thinks, and then his lips curl into a grin. Not that the other chap can see anything but perhaps a flash of white amidst the shadow.

Pearly teeth and all that.

A bit of the spittled contents land on Lucifer's mouth, he licks his lips, then he grins again. "Vampire. I see. And how long has it been since you've had an actual meal to satisfy your hunger?" He asks, red eyes opening in the shadows along with those pearly white teeth. Then the shadows begin to slip away, like tendrils of snakes crawling away from the man. What is left in the wake of darkness is the Lighbringer. In his charming human form of dark hair, tanned skin, and flawless body.

"What if I could give you something that would satiate you for a lifetime?"

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
The movement of the rats dancing causes for him to glance to them in confusion. And then the appearance of the attractive man calling him a vampire.

Vampire.

Do vampires starve to death? Is that a thing? Is this an end of unlife scenario?

Drink more!

Not n-

Hungry!

SHUT UP! SHUT UP!

How long has it been? Can't remember.

Hungry

Shut up.

How much is left in the bottle?

If you don't I'll break it.

...

Crosby tenses for a few moments, eyes blinking before a soft sigh escapes his lips before he tries to form an answer with the heavy tongue.

"..I doh oh."

What would satiate him? Would it shut up the voice?

Sinister has posed:
<<Maybe this .is. a form of schitzo-affective disorder, he's talking to himself in his own head.>>

<<And I might add, answering also. It's probably not though. Alright, I've ratted enough I think.>>

The three hula-hula rats drop to all fourse once again and skitter together into a furry, twitchery ball of black and brown and red-eyes, whiskers and growing mass, until Sinister lifts from the ball of re-uptaken flesh to gaze down at the starving homeless man.

"Brussel sprouts would definitely not be enough for you. Nor would a big turkey dinner. Or all the soup in the world." The chocolate tones of the englishman inform this and he shakes his head, gesturing to the devil. "He makes mean gingered carrots. But your hunger goes deeper. Maybe that voice that never stops, that gnawing... could be quiet."

Lucifer has posed:
"Suppose that depends... but the bottles are definitely filled with blood...which is why I figured your idea of vampire was right..." Lucifer offers and then lifts a single shoulder as a shrug.

"He can't speak well..." Lucifer looks back to the man. "Carson. Are you injured? Sick?" Just can't talk right? There's no way to really know Lucifer supposes. Unless Sinister could do a little mental digging...but this is likely not the place for that.

Let alone the time.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As the rats form into a person, Crosby turns his head using his feet to shove himself back. Being that he's already in the corner, the most that does is lift himself slightly off the ground before the applied force goes away. "LLAgh!"

Good thing he didn't eat the rat.

It would have been delicious! The other one smells even better.

Crosby's eyes narrow before he throws the bottle in his hand at a wall away from his vistors. At the very least he keeps his word.

WHAT ARE YOU-

Want me to throw the second?!

...

A hand lifts, fingers flexing in an indeterminate pattern as he tilts his head down, eyes closing. Listening to the comments. He nods, shakes his head, pauses, and then shrugs. How can he answer. His tongue stopped working right when the voice came and he could no longer eat? Is he sick? Is he a vampire? A hand lifts up to feel around his neck. He doesn't remember getting bit. But light hurts his eyes now. Maybe?

Don't listen to them.

The second bottle is thrown.

NO!

Sinister has posed:
"Maybe. But you could also have a severe case of porphyria. He's noisy isn't he? But then again, you may have had a stroke, or some severe contusion. One too many knocks from someone that likes to beat up the homeless. Trans-eschemic attack can change the brain's chemistry and rewire neural pathways. Plasticity. Then again, you may just be insane. Your tongue though, is partially paralyzed. I can fix that. I can fix everything if you want me to."

Sinister nods to the devil. "And he can fix even more. What are you hungry for? Thirsty for? What do you desire?" He glances to Lucifer at this and back to the poor schmuck in his bed of rags.

"You were human once. You still are. But it is all wrong now isn't it?"

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer sort of looks between Sinister and the maybe homeless-psycho-vampire-sickly all of which they can fix, together or apart. It just depends on what the man wants. What he believes could happen. They very well could suddenly have a chase on their hands if the man decides to bolt because this is all too much.

"I don't know. Would an insane person be able to know not to touch the bad track, and time it perfectly so they get to their hiding spot before the next train comes barreling down the track?" Well. Sanity and insanity all come in different flavors...maybe it really is worth it to see what flavor they have in front of them.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As the bottles receive no interference to prevent their flight into nearby walls, there's a smattering of broken glass. For those who can smell it, there is the distinctive smell of blood coming from the point of impact.

YOU SHIT. NOW YOU'LL HAVE TO-

Sinister's question about the noise ends up cutting off that thought as the crouched man stares at Sinister.

He can hear him?

Don't you dar-

GET RID OF HIM!

You shi-

And then things start to go wrong. Almost incurred from Lucifer's words, the figure leaps up, almost froglike over the couple before he bolts for the opening.

Stop!

I can get rid of you much easier than you rid of me.

Sinister has posed:
Well, this would be better as an escape plan if one of the individuals in this couple arrangement wasn't telekinetic. And wasn't also able to make solid barriers with a thought. A bubble this time, rather than the usual freedom to wriggle like mad, is the end result of the moment's thought between hearing a stray thinking and a sudden movement.

"I think you vastly underestimate just what can be achieved in this particular scenario, interloper. This is the Lord of Light, we're talking about here and I? Well, I don't like it when people run away on me, particularly not when I haven't finished prattling on. It's a terrible habit of mine you know, I can talk /endlessly/ about things."

Sinister clucks his tongue here, shakes his head a few times, then with a glance to his lover and to the man that may or may not have mildly concussed himself against solid air, Doctor Essex, son of a bitch that he is, clicks his fingers.

Mental illusion is a thing with him. It does serve a purpose sometimes though, when it can form a manifestation of how he thinks something 'feels' in his thoughts and when it can give a form to a voice he can hear in a mind. Also, it means he doesn't have to keep translating, just concentrating on direct thought-to-apparatition shaping.

"Now that I have everyone's attention and I /do/ mean everyone, please... lets have a nice little chat. Man to man. Fallen to Demon. Whatever you want to call it."

Lucifer has posed:
This is becoming a one man show with Sinister on the front line for the audience to see. Lucifer watches as the man leap frogs over them trying to escape, but is unable to thanks to bubble blockers.

They really are a thing.

Honestly, he's not really sure what more to do here. He isn't telepathic so he doesn't know what's going on in the interloper's mind. Which means he really doesn't have much to do until Nathaniel gives him something to go off of. Not that he minds such, just means that for the moment he'll casually go through the motions of lighting up a cigarette and then strolls over to one of the spots where a bottle smashed. It's contents spilled. Blood - definitely. But the blood of what?

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
In what could be considered fortunate or unfortunate timing, depending on what side is asked, the fleeing figure is stopped before reaching the opening. There is a moment where the homeless man becomes a shadow as the intensity of light coming through the crack increases, along with the telling sound of wheels on track.

Fortunate timing indeed.

As Sinister adds his mental illusion, there now is the general appearance of two figures. The homeless man from before and immediately to his left another figure, seemingly having a vise like grip on the other man's neck.

Concerning posture aside, there is a notable difference between the two forms. The newer form is much larger, towering over the thin man easily. A hulking figure in a red tone, long nose, and black wings protruding from the back of the figure's robes.

The hulking figure looks down at Sinister and Lucifer, "This is none of your concern."

Sinister has posed:
For having declared that he is a talkative fellow, Sinister can at other times, be exceptionally quiet. You can say a lot with a gesture though, which is what now occurs -- a simple open palmed indication of the Devil, with one eyebrow raised. Of course, a bakemono, or any other ilk of low-down devil is not necessarily going to recognize the Capital D at first glance. Right.

He then proceeds to beg a smoke of his own and examine the human side of this equasion with a narrow-eyed regard.

Emmaciation is a terrible thing.

But isn't it just fascinating how much the human body -can- endure?

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer has just bent down to assess the blood with the cigarette sticking out of his mouth. All super-awesome crime detective style. Looking like he knows what he's doing. Then he notices it. Subtle at first, but there's something about the air that gets a little thicker, scents a little stronger, and he straightens himself back up before looking over to the man and his companion now revealed.

"Well. I must disagree with you there. You see. You have come to my turf, and are disrupting someone from my city. What is equally important is that he was tagged having been near a very close friend of mine - giving an impression that my friend. No. Not friend. I must really begin to call him what he is. My nephew. Anyway. I lost track. Where was I?"

There's an inhale of cigarette, an exhale of the smoke as Lucifer paces towards the creature. "Ah. Right right. See, you cannot come here, and pick up my toys, and make off with them like they were yours all along. I won't stand for it..." By now the pacing forward man has slowly shed his humanly visage and stepped into the black winged, charred skinned, red-eyed Devil that he is.

"So. Ajari. Why don't you put the nice human down...and let's have a chat. Shall we?"

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
The thin man, who didn't need Sinister's intervention to hear the other man grimaces. Be it for the words being said or illusioned claws digging into the back of his neck bloodlessly, it is uncertain.

Except maybe to Sinister as there's the slightest inkling of pain ebbing from the smallest figure in the room.

.o(Please make it stop.)

The Daitengu quiets, claws still dug in as he considers Lucifer. "...Your nephew." There's a pause as he takes in a deep breath, seemingly smelling the air around. "I recall a delicious scent, similar to yours coming from a shelter. But he-" There's another squeeze upon the neck, "-failed to commit. Is that the one?"

Sinister has posed:
There is a look shot here, from Sin to the not-his-Devil, then to the man whose neck is held in a vice. There is a bit of a sigh, a shake of the head, then in the mind's eye he approaches just enough to stare straight in the frail little human's gaze. A nod and there's no pain any more and a blessedly silent 'shield' around the mind -- at least whilst the Doctor maintains eye contact in this particular nightmare.

Luci's got talking to do.

Lucifer has posed:
"Because you really think I have a slew of people around the world who smell like I do?" There's a thought there, but he doesn't really give into it. He simply continues to press forward until he's aside the Daitengu. "So you were just looking for someone to get your claws into...and when my nephew failed you grabbed hold of the next being? Come on... what truly is the point of this?"

There's a narrowing of hellfire eyes as he turns his head to look upon Ajari directly. "Let. Him. Go." It's not a request. It's not a simple comment. It's a downright command. The Devil is in the house, and this creature of chaos will bow to his will - whether it's appreciated or not. Power is a compelling thing. Maybe getting a taste of it will warrant obedience.

There's surely consequences abound if the command is ignored.

"Again. My turf. What, did you run out of souls in your little cesspool of chaos so you have to come pick on mine? Don't make me angry. No one likes it when I am angry."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Ajari scowls at the devil. "Do you believe I knew that one to be yours then?" The grip tightens on the man who, upon being ensnared in Sinistrer's gaze, does not appear to register what is being done to him. The thin man seems almost...relieved. Relaxed.

.oO(Thank you.)

"He was no more than a delicious morsel to be consumed. But now that you have identified him, I'll know not to target him now."

The thin man jerks as Ajari shakes him harshly, breaking the eye contact and triggering a muffled yelp of cascading pain.

"I'll even release this one. Not because you tried ordering me. But as apology for targeting the other."

With that statement, the thin man pitches forward, seemingly tossed back onto the T-shirt bed. "The amusement was fading anyways."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister stoops. It isn't a swift gesture born out of panic, more that the task of wrestling imagery from a mind is currently done enough that the mind such images are wrested of, needs the body attended to. "No pain," is whispered to the poor schmuck Crosby, as he lands in his nest of T-shirts. And shields of a different kind are placed for now, whilst he looks to the devil and the Devil with a cluck of the tongue.

Well, it IS a demon/devil/infernal thing. Maybe being cheeky and piss proud is part of what they do by nature.

It's probably not going to end well though. He ignores that for the time being and looks the poor sod over. Yep, that's a severely malnourished human being, yes it is.

Lucifer has posed:
"Oh bollocks. The whole I did it for this not for that nonsense is... well.. nonsense..." Lucifer says this much and then steps away from the creature. "Let me put this into terms you might better understand. I came here. Me. From Hell to here because I was bored. And what do you see me doing? Hmm? Do you see me fucking with impudent, stupid little morsels of sinful delight? No. Am I parading around like a Devil without a Cause? Absolutely not! But what I -am- doing... is making sure that this place stays safe. This place. My place. Where the dominant religion - whether I like it or not - is the one that I am derived from."

He has a point. He promises.

He might as well make it.

"And even if it weren't... you don't see me parading around fucking with Buddhists... Or terrorizing the Hindi. Berating the Norse. Hmm? No. Why do you think that is? I mean, there is a reason, whether you believe it or not.... any guesses? Hmm? It's because I am decent enough to give them their space! And see. I don't ask for much. Do whatever you like to the people who follow....whatever dynasty religion you come from...I don't care. Not my issue. My issue....is that you fucked with mine. Okay? So. I'll turn my cheek to this little...misstep... on the condition that you stay the fuck out of my lane. Remember. I can end you. And I will end you. I will send you back to the furthest depths from which you could crawl from and when you're done crawling back up to the top I can be there. Watching. Waiting. Just to send you back down again. And again. And again. A cycle that will repeat itself for eternity. Because I am Lucifer Fucking Morningstar. The Devil. The King of Hell. And you've ruffled my feathers you insignificant little demon prick."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Ajari remains quiet as Lucifer responds back with more venom than the Daitengu did. The head cants to the side, ignoring the crumpled man discarded in the corner. Black wings unfurl in response before folding back once more. "Are you done?"

Crosby, after being released from the torment he's been subjected for who knows how long, reacts to Sinister's gift in the best way possible. He passes out, in what is probably the most restful sleep he's had for a long while.

Sinister has posed:
Looking at the man in the pile of rags with a nod, Sin then rises. The devil in all his horror and majesty, toe to toe with a demon of blood and batwings is nevertheless something to gaze at, side to side, face to face, for a moment or two.

He inhales, exhales, nods to himself just the once and steps up half-way between the dark and the light, so to speak.

Shhhhh, sleep on little man and dream of whatever floats your boat.

Nothingness probably, for the time being.

"He means every word by the by. But really? I'm the one you need to worry about, Ajari.... because I'm going to take you now. It is probably going to be a bit of a surprse to you. I'm sure we're going to have lots and lots of chats in the near future. In me. Now."

This. To the demon unbound by holding a poor homeless dude in thrall, because there's a special prison in Sin's mind for those he likes to put in there, to study and have a sniff at. This is a flavour of vampirism that he after all, is unfamiliar with. And a possession gone to 'vacuum cleaned up' is probably not normal for demonic entities anyway. A contest of wills might be in order, but then again? There might be very little resistance that can be afforded. Psychic assaults don't always come with psychic defenses, after all. Not if there's usually no call for them in one's philosophy. Or THEOLOGY as is the case here.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer pauses a beat. Maybe two. And then Sinister does his Sinister thing and takes the demon into his mental prison. He's seen that done before and after a moment he shrugs off the Devil and becomes Lucifer Morningstar - CEO of Lux Enterprises and Owner of Club Lux.

"I am now." He answers the question that was asked, even if Ajari isn't there to hear it. He can likely hear it in Sin's mind. If Sin allows such.

"I think we should take old boy back over to New Hope. Now that he's not demonized...I bet he could use a proper bed, shower, clean clothes and a hot meal that isn't bottled blood..."

Sinister has posed:
There is an exhale from Sinister and a nod. "I feel disinclined to touch though, there might be ... fleas." All of the things he can do, will do, endure and put others through and there's still a few quirks that make zero sense and a million pieces of cultural logic all at the same time. Germs? Well, they're unpleasant. Fleas? That's a thing for /riffraff/ and he isn't that.

In his mind, there's an echo chamber where hunger will become a terrible thing eventually. There are horror stories that have been writ about what can happen to an entity starved of Needs.

He turns to make his way out, there will be train dodging too. As they fade out: "...I am going to be having one hell of a long shower after this."