Chapter V - Brimstone

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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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While she was tempted to rest a reassuring hand on the human's shoulder, Meris held off from doing so. Three's posture seemed coiled like a spring; he might've been terrified but he was primed to fight, exactly what was needed. She remained standing next to Three and Lucian as she watched the proceedings.

As for the three younger selkies, they all looked on edge to some degree. Aislinn was seated, but she leaned forward nervously, hands clasped tightly together. Neasa stayed near Bucky, her hand reaching for his for support. Ciaran intently looked at the television, only something in his mannerisms betraying that he partly wanted to leave and head straight for the park. However, he knew that the beginning of the battle would start in the courtroom. He knew he'd have to wait until whatever was supposed to happen would play out.

Aspasia still stood up, arms crossed over her chest. She appeared more like a general waiting to see how the war would commence than someone would normally finishing up the details for their Christmas celebration.
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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Twenty minutes passed. Twenty minutes of recaps and of the prosecution's rather solid arguments, ending with a well-constructed appeal to the jury. A few people in the assistance had looks Lucian and Mentalor didn't have much trouble recognizing: their minds were already made up. Of the forty jurors, however, a good thirty still looked indecisive and attentively took their eyes to Leonard. As had previously happened in the Goat's last few sessions of assumed control, the transition was smooth. Ephesian closed his eyes, drew in a breath, and exhaled the mortal ungulate's remaining stress. The spark of Infernal deviousness to be seen in them wasn't missed by Drake - who soon recognized the same glint in a few audience members in the rear of the courtroom.

"Oh, no," he whispered.

Ephesian cleared his throat and cracked his neck while fixing his necktie, a few glowing nodules of Hellfire pulsating in his throat, sending tendrils both up  and along his jawbones and down towards his chest. A few audience members gasped at the sight.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I shall begin by asking for your clemency. The last few weeks haven't been easy to this old billy and yes, I'm rather aware that my appearance has grown unconventional. To be bluntly honest, mine are the marks of a man forced to bear the consequences of his actions. My client is, as you might expect, more than a little familiar with this particular plight - his scars are of a different provenance than mine, at best. Over the past few weeks, I've labored over the myriad cogs in this machine, over the system designed so that Frank Lambert would find himself divested of all controlling interests towards his own entreprise, only to watch it fall at the hands of the Triads' reckless lack of quality control measures. Crimes have most assuredly been committed, but my client's only fault is of having been powerless to stop a scheme of ignoble proportions."

He clicked through a few slides in a PowerPoint presentation. "Rogue demons associated with Greed, Triad interests, a small menagerie of thoughtless shareholders better beholden to their investment portfolios than to customer satisfaction... The perpetrators of this tragedy are both mundane and supernatural, lying in everyday collars found between New York and Hong Kong, as well as associates of Mammon's which this city's vigilantes proved unable to stop. How could they, when they were facing the idea of Finance itself? How could they, when close friends of theirs were involved?"

Mel Othstein's human features appeared on the screen. "Oh, he isn't anymore complicit than mister Lambert, but some of Wolfram and Associates' portfolios were designed by craven office zealots, more than willing to dip their quills in blood in order to better line the pockets of their employer - and to support endeavors which they care for."

The Holden coat of arms came into view, morphing into the Hall's recognizable crest, on the front doors. "Now, the Hundred Demons have their masters, and they differ from the Sin Seven's array of Red Poles. Both are criminals, ostensibly. Both had hands in this very pie long before Lambert's assumed corruption. I'd like to remind you how I've called John Smith to the bar, two weeks ago. We discussed of a CEO's exact tasks, didn't we? Shall I replay the testimony's record, or are your memories still sufficiently sharp?"

He paused. "A Chief Executive Officer only sets the tone for a company, and is ultimately under the orders of the Board of Directors. Truly, the Chairman of the Board is the one figure in companies such as Goliath or IsoTech that truly holds power. All a CEO does is embody those collective choices. In IsoTech's case, a more thorough investigation would have revealed that Chairman Godfrey Tseng had previously served as host to a particularly craven Fiend - one who had planned to possess Lambert, turning the mere tone-setter into a source of even further corruption. My firm did its due diligence and alerted Hong Kong's Catholic Archbishop of the dangerous mix of extra-planar involvement and corporate power that brewed in their midst."

The Goat pursed his lips together. "The following might be too graphic for some of you. Consider yourselves warned."

As an exerpt of Tseng's exorcism played out, Three's teeth were clenched. "That son of a bitch - he was the one who possessed Tseng! He was the one who wanted to possess Lambert! He had a patsy ready from the beginning and we never picked up on it!" he seethed. "We were so focused on the Devils and Mammon, on Mary's own ties, that we never realized!"

A few minutes later, as the demon who inhabited Tseng's vacant body screamed obscenities at his master for having betrayed him, the Goat coughed politely. "Truly, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the perpetrators of the many, many faults behind this class-action are without numbers. Some actively took part, some nodded their heads and looked away, some pocketed ill-gotten cash, and many were simply guilty of following their instincts. A pyramid of shame was built, and my client's only fault was in realizing how expectations and promises of physical violence held him in place."

He held out a hand as some of the jurors protested. "But - we won't be faulted for being unrealistic. My client understands that the blame needs to be shouldered, that expectations need to be met."

An odd look of fear waited on Lambert's haggard, jet-lagged features. It looked like the Counselor was veering off-script. The Black Goat turned to Judge Stevens.

"Your Honor, we request a settlement. For every signatory in this class-action, we offer full reimbursement and three physical therapy sessions, as well as replacements on a case-by-case basis, depending on IsoTech's available assets, following its liquidation. My client also requests for his sentence to include mandated community service, including conferences aimed towards the better instruction of cyborgs in their particular needs in self-care."

Zeke Lyman, who was wearing Lambert's likeness, looked like his own plans had been dashed. He looked around the room, surprised to see Candace Liddy give Ephesian a calculating look. He stammered, but a look by the Goat seemed to cause him to sink down into his chair. Stevens then gestured Liddy and Ephesian closer, the trio discussing for a moment. Liddy then returned to her client, who fidgeted with his prosthetic arm's cufflink as he listened. He then nodded. Bucky clutching Neasa's hand at that.

"No, goddamnit, no! All of our work's gone down the drain all 'cause a' this guy's stinkin' way with words! He never wanted to fully exonerate Lambert!"

Archie brushed his mustache thoughtfully. "Only Leonard's coil matters. His perfectly crafted vessel, dodging a criminal client's responsibility while avoiding the do-gooders' righteousness... It was never about absolving Lambert. Twisting Justice out of shape suffices in and of itself..."

* * *

Tom had since had enough time to get dressed. The club was silent, the tower was lit up like a beacon and just as quiet. The warthog glanced down at the security cordons the Prometheans and allied demons had put together. The courthouse's audio feed played in an earpiece, and he placed his cell phone on his other one, keying in a conference call. Biggs picked up first.

"It's time," he said. "Send in everyone. Send Silve to the Park.
- Y'want I shack in there too? I've got my own guys too, y'know.
- No, they've got families to go back to. Send everyone you can my way. Send Winters' men - even Sarvin's. We're past the point of party lines. Survival is what matters."

He then addressed the other person on the line. "Aislinn - prime the master Wards, then come down here. People are going to want to see a familiar face when they'll come in. We only have minutes left."
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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Ciaran jumped up from his seat and groused as he vigorously gestured at the television, "The trial doesn't fucking matter anymore. The Goat's got his body, and he's giving us the middle finger right now. We need to arm ourselves and get on with protecting Hope."

Meris noticed how keyed up her grandson seemed to be and looked over to Aidan. "He has a point. We can listen and see how this plays out, but we also need to set our plans in motion," she spoke directly to Three and Archibald.

***

Leaving the area where the others were seated, Aislinn hurried outside and ventured toward the front gates. A few whispered words later, and a lightning bolt was sent toward the front entrance of the property to prime the wards Tom had worked so hard on. The youngest Archmage then bolted back to where Tom was speaking to Biggs over his cellphone.
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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Archie was about to respond, but Three cut him off. "No - there's demons in the audience. We can't leave this unattended, and some of us need to get there five minutes ago!"

He stood up and walked off, Lucian and Mentalor following suit. "I take the courthouse," he told the pair, "you two find the biggest rifts in town and keep the invaders busy!"

His boots and coat had been shucked on that he impulsively fished out his cell phone and thumbed through Hope University's faculty directory, having also patched his phone into the Hall's intercom system. The others would be able to hear him as he left. The phone rang a few times, he didn't let the faculty directory's greeting message play out and keyed in an extension number, then rang two more times. "Yes?" asked a reasonably thick accent.

"Da svidanye, mister Kirilov," he said. "This is Aidan Drake, Sarah's brother. Most of the northern hemisphere is about to go through a climate-related nightmare, and the Thrones are going to have their hands full for a while. Knowing what you are, you've probably felt changes in the local barometric pressure long before anyone else noticed. Well, their source is cropping up now. We have wide-open Infernal rifts incoming.
- Boshe moi," swore the bear, "so you've been keeping an eye on my inquiries with the local weather stations?
- Not at all," replied Drake, "but this seems like something you'd do. Cold weather is of some importance to you; we can thank Rasputin for that.
- It's of some importance to the planet," countered the bear, "but I've majored in History and Political Sciences. Meteorology is only of some import once it starts impacting innocent lives, such as this arcane disturbance is liable to do."

Drake's motorcycle roared as it sped off. "So you know why I'm calling you!
- You need cold to slow down the Atlantic currents' possible degradation, and to slow down your enemies.
- That, plus you're a good egg, fuck the Fox News pundits! We've got a few safe zones set up: the Hall, Frosthall in Faerie, the tunnels underneath the Tree, and Magnus Tower. We can't reach everyone in time - I need you to funnel people our way! Scare them into moving - Christmas is officially cancelled!
- What you're asking me to do; this could endanger innocents! To force people away this quickly, the kind of land-based cyclonic system I would have to generate could imprison thousands where they stand!
- Then we have to hope the angels will pull through!" countered Drake. "We can't handle a full-out assault and we can't work with the Fiends in their natural environment!"

Three's bike was heard screeching to a halt, his teeth clenched over a slur. "Fucking Christmas parade floats - NO! GET OFF THE STREETS! GET TO THE HALL OR MAGNUS TOWER! HEAD TO THE PEDWAY IF YOU CAN'T MAKE IT, THE UNDEAD RESIDENTS ARE ALREADY SHELTERING PEOPLE!"

Lev was still stammering over the phone. "And the Caliban Smith Detention Center - is it to be evacuated?
- Chimera Row?!" yelled Three over the noise. "Heck, having Rendell loose might actually be a good idea!"

Back in the Hall, the break room's TV feed suddenly shifted to sort of impromptu picture-in-picture mode, the courtroom occupying half the screen even as a scale-covered and suit-wearing figure loomed in the twilit area of what looked to be one of the Row's inner yards, seated on an altogether too fancy chair. A thick sliver of bone could be seen rising out of an eyepatch's covered area. One hand was bare, the other one covered with a black glove. Rendell sniffed, angled his head slightly so his one good eye became visible, and then leaned in slightly, his massive maw curled into a grin.

"You know, gentlemen - a madman would consider this an auspicious start to a new age. The superior genome and enlightened minds rising above the rabble and the dregs, the anointed savior claiming his crown for the betterment of all... Watching you struggle has been enriching, to say the least - and truly insightful."

He shrugged. "Superior genomes, enlightened minds... We've tried all this before. Haven't we, Aspasia? You needn't answer, I'm well aware of how distasteful I still am to you. As was said before in the presence of Bagley's microphones, survival is what matters now."

The T-Rex Chimera clicked his tongue. "First things first, we cut weights loose. Mister Isaacs, if you please..."

Rupert Isaacs waddled into frame, one foot looking like a badly-assembled ad-hoc cybernetic prosthesis, and one hand's metal fingers ending in a worrying collection of hypodermic needles. One of the phalanges' clear canisters was filled with a glowing green liquid. Rendell gestured for patience.

"I'd fallen into a rut," he explained to his audience. "Dreams of turning into a lich, attempts to end my life and finish the Tree's handiwork, an increasing payload of nanites, and an endlessly-sustained half-life. It took a tad too much datura toxin and a worrying case of atrial fibrillation for my outlook on things to change, whilst you were sheltering our impeccably-dressed doom. I died for six minutes, the good doctor brought me back - and I knew how I'd chased after the wrong gift. Magic was never meant to be mine to wield, not when the Tree symbolizes life at its most inexhaustible! So out with the poisons and the nanites - in with designer phyto-proteins designed to impart their receiver with the gift of plant-based regeneration. Why kill a Dryad, you might ask, when you can become something very close to the genuine article?"

Anton scoffed. "Next you'll tell us you made it to Heaven when you croaked on Isaacs' gurney."

Rendell's eyebrow was raised. "Oh, but I did, mister Azardad. After all, there's nothing impossible to it: a monster or despot dies, reaches Pandemonium, atones for their sins and reaches Heaven. I've still done some truly unconscionable things for which I will undoubtedly atone in future, but the fact is none of us here will ever witness the glory of our respective species and creeds if we die at the hands of a monster whose ego frightens even me. I saw Heaven, angels told me of my coming sacrifices as well as of things I still have a fair bit of difficulty believing in, and set me on this path. Caliban cannot act for Hope, his role as Governor saw him be marshaled to safety at the first sign of planar distress. I, however, can still make plans.
- Such as?"

Rendell slid his eye over to Aspasia. "Well, getting stuck with this needle, for starters. If Rupert fails me and I pass away, I will be free to walk back through Club Ishtar's gates to snap his neck. There is that, and I felt like giving Aspasia and Silas this small ounce of satisfaction."

He seemingly winked at the Blue Chimera. "Consider it an inappropriately small bit of penance for what I've put you through."

Something then seemingly struck Rendell, leaving him with a quizzical look. "Now that I think of this, however - should I survive this, I must know: what kind of cheese is it the both of you and Miranda prefer? Which kind of wine suits you best? Suffice it to say, I've a thing in the works that would be quite likely to save your hides..."

* * *

By now, Tom had mingled with Gammell and the Prometheans and was going over the last rehersal of their agreed-upon procedures. Aislinn would find both men hunched over a tablet, flicking through floor plans and checklists as they spoke.

"...as previously agreed, I've asked the more physically impaired of my followers to remain in their apartments. The remaining thirty individuals and accompanying Void Weavers are under orders to avoid plying their gifts or using their more off-kilter physical features in the presence of recently-arrived refugees. Lucas has been rehearsing his introductory message for the youngsters and little ones, and I shall handle the adults," said George. "The agreed-upon paths are through either stairwell - straight down to Hydroponics. Paimon and Volker are already waiting below. Anyone we shelter with a propensity for firearms usage will be inspected by either man and offered weapons if found suitable. Randolph Mantus' suite is to remain under high security at all times, and so is the person of Herbert Wormsworth. His task is to reach the aerials above and use them to amplify his Pride-sapping abilities, to demoralize the enemy."

Tom nodded. "Our first line of defense involves using the Darkhallow at our advantage. Bertram, Helena and the others are going to force as many infantrymen as they can reach into the Darkhallow, and down into the deepest constructs they can build. Snoozing demons can't fight, and that means we can disrupt their physical form if they've been conjured, kill them outright if they've crawled through a rift."

George nodded. "And you?
- I'm going to turn the block into a barren Infernal landscape ahead of time, so we get to have useful choke points - not them. I stuff them with Imps and sic' em on our guests."

Aristide had returned to the tower with Tom and now was setting up a corner of the information kiosk in the central lobby into a makeshift altar. "I'm planning on entreating Baron Samedi. Now that I've heard of Alphonse Biggs, I know this city has tutelary spirits it has ignored in favor of nobler ones. The first patriarch of this city's criminals will not rest until order is restored - that I already know. I'll see if Papa Legba will allow him to step through your Gates, mon ami," he told Tom.

The gorilla nodded to Aislinn. "And you, très chère?
- Ais?" asked Tom. "Oh, she's going to make everything from here to Bloch and the Thirty-Second Avenue look like an arcane version of Omaha Beach. She's an Archmage now, so setting Wards ahead of time and waiting for targets to trigger them is kids' stuff."

He smiled meanly at his companion. "It's gonna rain hexes today, for sure. All you need is a good pair of Angelic arms to make sure you don't go splat. That's where Amenadiel comes in."   
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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A series of conflicting moods fell over the satyress' face-exasperation, anger, and incredulity. "My sense of schadenfreude over your suffering isn't exactly at the top of the priority list, Rendell," she muttered, tightly frowning at the dinosaur. Aspasia then rolled her eyes up at the ceiling and responded, "We tend to keep Havarti around the house frequently enough, and I generally prefer German wines like Riesling, though at least somewhat sweet."

***

Aislinn gave the warthog and gorilla a thumbs-up. "As long as I've got air support, setting the wards will be easy," she answered, still looking somber due to the events.
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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"Oh, good," lightly noted the saurian. "I'll make sure to remember, should Rupert not fail me."

Bucky snorted. "And you're expectin' yer science dweeb not to mess up after you've threatened him twice, now?"

Rendell gestured dismissively. "He's used to it. Aren't you, Doctor?"

The old man's prosthetic eye rolled wildly in its socket, like a billiard ball caught in a plastic frame. "Yes, yes - of course I am. He's the only person here holding me to exacting standards - everyone else would rather I skulked in a corner and submitted to an endless stream of psychotherapy sessions... You get used to it."

Rendell stopped Isaacs' incoming finger again. "Er - one last thing? The reaction might be acutely exothermic, as photosensitive properties in my body's cells are re-awakened and made to respond to light and heat as fuel sources. The replication process might leave this yard a small furnace... I'd anticipate a few dramatic explosions, perhaps a few casualties. As for my escape and my helping you, well..."

He looked off to the side and then back to the camera. "I can only make this work if I swear fealty to your Black Goat, first. Our enemy must be mollified into looking the other way. You, however, will have to save Rupert for me."

Archie looked incensed. "We will do no such thing, sir! Rupert Isaacs is a criminal!
- I think you mean Misunderstood Scientific Genius," replied the man. "To think that I designed the exact being Pride would consider as worthy of their blind trust without knowing of their existence or involvement? I astound myself, truly!"

Rendell lightly grimaced. "Eh. Then again, old friend, happenstance never did amount to much for you, did it?
- Everything is always by design, dear boy," muttered the mad scientist, sounding like a grandfather spouting life truths. "In any case, I follow wherever he goes, and vice versa. If you follow Gregory's plans, I must go along. If you save me from the Hellspawn, so must you save him. That is, if his end of the plan fails and they fail to sense his exquisite ego for what it is."

Bucky grunted. "So you're also ringin' the dinner bell for a chunk o' Hellspawn. They'll notice that explosion. I hope for your sake that you've got it in that fool head o' yours to save a few innocents."

Rendell shrugged as Isaacs jabbed him with the hypodermic needle. "No-one is ever truly innocent, mister Wallace. In this situation, there are but the lucky ones - and the unlucky ones."

For a few moments, they'd be able to watch as Rendell first lightly squirmed, then spasmed, then felt compelled to remove his glove and tear off his eye patch. Tendrils of via floated off of his exposed phalanges for a few moments, until sinews and tendons began to stretch across them. The same happened to his exposed eye socket, gristle and muscle restored even as nerve endings were reawakened - and pain restored. The edges of the healing limb and facial features glowed orange-red, with streaks of fire-like energy dancing underneath his face's skin, highlighting his neck and face's bones from within. Rendell's features turned spastic, and Isaacs engaged a set of shackles at his wrists and ankles. The T-Rex anthro snarled, huffed out a few breaths and then began to produce sizzling noises, screams soon sounding across clenched teeth."Oh, good," lightly noted the saurian. "I'll make sure to remember, should Rupert not fail me."

Bucky snorted. "And you're expectin' yer science dweeb not to mess up after you've threatened him twice, now?"

Rendell gestured dismissively. "He's used to it. Aren't you, Doctor?"

The old man's prosthetic eye rolled wildly in its socket, like a billiard ball caught in a plastic frame. "Yes, yes - of course I am. He's the only person here holding me to exacting standards - everyone else would rather I skulked in a corner and submitted to an endless stream of psychotherapy sessions... You get used to it."

Rendell stopped Isaacs' incoming finger again. "Er - one last thing? The reaction might be acutely exothermic, as photosensitive properties in my body's cells are re-awakened and made to respond to light and heat as fuel sources. The replication process might leave this yard a small furnace... I'd anticipate a few dramatic explosions, perhaps a few casualties. As for my escape and my helping you, well..."

He looked off to the side and then back to the camera. "I can only make this work if I swear fealty to your Black Goat, first. Our enemy must be mollified into looking the other way. You, however, will have to save Rupert for me."

Archie looked incensed. "We will do no such thing, sir! Rupert Isaacs is a criminal!
- I think you mean Misunderstood Scientific Genius," replied the man. "To think that I designed the exact being Pride would consider as worthy of their blind trust without knowing of their existence or involvement? I astound myself, truly!"

Rendell lightly grimaced. "Eh. Then again, old friend, happenstance never did amount to much for you, did it?
- Everything is always by design, dear boy," muttered the mad scientist, sounding like a grandfather spouting life truths. "In any case, I follow wherever he goes, and vice versa. If you follow Gregory's plans, I must go along. If you save me from the Hellspawn, so must you save him. That is, if his end of the plan fails and they fail to sense his exquisite ego for what it is."

Bucky grunted. "So you're also ringin' the dinner bell for a chunk o' Hellspawn. They'll notice that explosion. I hope for your sake that you've got it in that fool head o' yours to save a few innocents."

Rendell shrugged as Isaacs jabbed him with the hypodermic needle. "No-one is ever truly innocent, mister Wallace. In this situation, there are but the lucky ones - and the unlucky ones."

For a few moments, they'd be able to watch as Rendell first lightly squirmed, then spasmed, then felt compelled to remove his glove and tear off his eye patch. Tendrils of via floated off of his exposed phalanges for a few moments, until sinews and tendons began to stretch across them. The same happened to his exposed eye socket, gristle and muscle restored even as nerve endings were reawakened - and pain restored. The edges of the healing limb and facial features glowed orange-red, with streaks of fire-like energy dancing underneath his face's skin, highlighting his neck and face's bones from within. Rendell's features turned spastic, and Isaacs engaged a set of shackles at his wrists and ankles. The T-Rex anthro snarled, huffed out a few breaths and then began to produce sizzling noises, screams soon sounding across clenched teeth.

The camera then moved awkwardly as Isaacs lifted it from its stand and turned it around to film himself as he hurried outside. Over his shoulder, Rendell's form had turned into a pure white outline, pieces of his suit falling to the ground in flaming swaths. He kept screaming through it all, but the old man soon ducked through what looked like a retro-fitted blast door and sealed it shut.

"By my calculations," he told Shield, "you have ten minutes before Chimera Row's D block is reduced to smoldering rubble. With the demons, the orderlies and guards will be in disarray - you must get me out of here alive!"

The prison's half of the feed then ended, the view returning to the courtroom, where the details of Lambert's settlement were still being discussed.

In the rear of the room, Bagley looked both wary and somehow unconcerned. "The heating winds will make our using the Archimedes a difficult prospect. I'll fire up Daisy Two, shall I?"

* * *

Lucian having opted to return to the park, he settled with coaxing the Real into shifting for him alone, casting the ground plane as the far horizon towards Renton. Soon, he was hurtling above the city - falling rather than flying - and then anchored gravity as a softly curving plane and lessening force that allowed him to turn his being tumbled across town into a generally graceful landing in front of the tunnels' main entrance. From there to reaching Sophia and the vampires, only a few more seconds were needed.

His cane and feet crunched on the gallery's drying soil. As luck would have it, he ran into Alana first. Arthur would've mentioned that things were still going well, but Alana would've seen a few scouts be torn to shreds on both ends of the conflict, by now. As much as the Freaks needed to assess the enemy's numbers, so did the enemy need to assess theirs. It wasn't great for morale, and clownish japes had never really been her thing, hadn't it? Grimley had his hands full in keeping the scout contingent active and the refugees, fed, tended to and distracted from the dawning horror.

* * *

"That's the plan," nodded Tom, only to be interrupted as the front doors were finally opened by the first few members of a sizable throng of uprooted Christmas shoppers.

"Ohmigod," breathed one of them, a middle-aged woman, "there's fire raining down from the sky! We just saw some sort of Hell portal eat up the front half of Macy's on Main - who do we need to call for something like this? The Army?!"

As she approached Tom, a few others shrieked or shouted at George's sight. He raised his hands placatingly.

"Ladies, gentlemen - please remain calm. I am George Murray Gammell and in your own way, you've all known me for several generations. My appearance might be unusual, it is absolutely nothing for you to be concerned about. Neither is that of my friends. There will be time enough for questions later, but for now, let me stress that we are here to help. There are fresh beds and food in the basement, and several miles of coiled wards between the surface and ourselves, to protect us, once below."

Shock made a few hesitate, sway between verbalizing curiosity and demanding answers, but others seemed to prefer easier rationalizations. "My aunt Glinda was right!" shouted someone in the rear. "We ain't been Christian enough, we've been easy on the cyborgs, Transgenics and faggots, and now we're payin' for it! That's Jesus' holy wrath, mark my words!"

Tom scoffed meanly. "If the Rapture is for bigots alone, then you're fine with tossing seven-eights of these people back onto the street. How's that for being Christian, Glinda's nephew?!
- That ain't what I meant, I just-"

Tom clacked his staff against the floor. "I'll bastardize the great Henry Rollins, sir, and say that if you're a raging bigot right here and now, in these circumstances, then own up to it and get it printed on a tee-shirt! Better yet - anyone got a pen? Glinda's nephew wants it on paper that he's fine with most of you dying!"

Silence settled in as others came in from the dissipating cold, peeling off their abnormally excessive layers. "I'll warn you, you'll hear plenty of bullshit like this in the coming months! This is not humanity's last stand, this is not Revelations made real, and the Rapture is most assuredly not upon us! Neither God or the Princes have any sort of care about whether or not you've been a Christian, an Atheist, a vegan or a Mac user - all our foes see you as is meat. This is an invasion, and while I might not usually caution rhetoric along the lines of John Milnius', I'm feeling pretty much Red Dawn, myself! There is hope, and we will take back our streets, our country, and our world! For now, though, we huddle up, gather our strength - and survive!"
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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Ciaran sighed. "Well, since it seems we're about to go from being authorized vigilantes to unauthorized criminals, might as well get going, then," he responded to Bagley's suggestion of taking the Daisy Two.

Meris grimaced, thinking back to the Architect's explanation at how they would be receiving some help from unconventional sources. It seemed like Issacs and Rendell were their ticket to surviving this war, with whatever other machinations they might have up their sleeves.

Aspasia sent a concerned look to her husband and then to the rest of the group. "Might be pointless, but you should at least cover your faces. With the mayhem that's about to happen, delaying identification would be in your favor. Not to mention, I still want to get back to Miranda and Ashley. We'll help as many staff members get out of there as safely as possible, but there probably will be some unfortunate collateral damage."

***

"Mr. Rothchild, I see you've returned to us," Alana addressed calmly enough, appearing slightly nervous at the news of a few of their scouts already being taken out by demons. "What can we do to help you or vice versa? The Infernal rifts are opening elsewhere, but they will likely be delayed for now."

***

Thankfully, the familiar face among the freaks spoke up, "Alright, people, I'm Aislinn McConmara with Shield. Everybody you see around you is there to help protect you. That's why we set this place up. I know this is all sudden and frightening right now, but we're going to make it through this, I swear! You need to get down to the shelter, so we can make room for others who will be arriving," she declared loudly to the crowd.
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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Archie held out a hand. "Even if I were to caution this plan, which I do not, need I remind you all that we are this city's protectors, and that some of us have some background when it comes to illicit acts performed for the good of all? We might have cause to protect Isaacs, my friends - at least delaying our descent into outright larceny. If the Goat plays the cards I suspect him to, then there is little doubt he will be the one to cast us as outlaws. Let's not hurry things along too much, hm? We still have something of the mayor's favor, after all."

Anton nodded. "Holden's right, there's no need for us to go into hiding right away. You still have civilians to reassure, and if Isaacs is right, you'll have reason enough to want to apprehend him, finger-quotes included."

Bucky stood up. "Well, if you don't caution our barging in, boss, what's the plan?"

Archie looked back to Meris and the others. "Someone needs to stay here. Refugees will soon arrive, and we still require progress updates on Ephesian's hearing. The rest of us will not attack, and rather will sedately request of the detention center's warden that Isaacs be placed in our care. The same holding area that contained Ephesian will serve nicely as a bedroom for our addled friend.
- Well, that hanger-on can't be us," noted Silas. "Aspasia's right, we have a daughter and a young neighbor to go back to."

The Clank nodded in obvious understanding. "Of course you do. Keep to the skies with your horse, the Pit's mortar runs seem to be concentrated downtown, for the time being."

* * *

Billy had first spent several minutes trying to force the Impala's doors open, only for the lich's sleep spell to finally get to him. He'd dozed off for a while, only to awaken at the sight of a glowing orange-red rift in the asphalt opening and tipping the car on its side. He'd climbed out of car under the scents of gasoline and Eldritch petrichor, only for his sense of smell to zero in on something he perceived as being analogous to Aspasia and Silas' own aromas...

"Aw," he cooed for nobody in particular, "they got themselves an ankle-biter!" The unfamiliar nature of Renton passed as barely relevant underneath the fairly solid olfactive beacons he perceived. Without a ride home and with Charles sound asleep in the back of his subconscious, he also didn't have too much trouble sensing the encroaching Infernal scouts that neither Miranda or Ashley would've had time enough to perceive. They were shadows in the next few yards over, which left Billy and his craven little grin to jog on over to Aspasia and Coach's house, and ring the doorbell.

* * *

Lucian looked somber. "I would ask that you keep the pressure on, for now. We are minutes away from the front lines being established."

As he spoke, a single note seemed to resonate through the tunnels, something about the sound having an almost tactile quality, like dappled sunlight touching the skin after a long winter night. Rothchild found himself closing his eyes out of reflex action, some part of his stored tension leaving him at the same time.

"It's Heaven," he said, "they've finally begun opening their own planar tears."

One such rift opened right next to Sophia, Heaven's radiant daytime light briefly casting every corner of the main chamber in what felt like some eternal summertime day's radiance. Through it stepped Gabriel, dressed in the olive drabs of a United States Marine Corps field officer. The Dryad would briefly be able to glimpse at Heaven's infinite torus, rising towards God's light in an endless expanse of fields, oceans, cities and countrysides.  Behind Gabriel, other rifts had been opened, through which other angels had stepped.

In the immediate, the Archangel settled with nodding hello to Sophia while directing his attention to a shortwave radio clipped to his right shoulder. "I want perimeters around the courthouse and Centennial Park. High-priority guardianship goes to the group splintering off for Chimera Row. I don't want interference if Isaacs is extracted. Keep Rendell alive until he finishes mutating!"

Clicking his radio off, he then nodded to Sophia. "We won't let them get through to you," he said, nodding. "You have my word."

In other connected tunnels, more flashes of Celestial light could be seen, followed by resolute-looking men and women in a dozen different forms of martial gear walking past the vampires and refugees. That made Lucian give Alana another look. "I suppose you could inform our new guests of your evacuation plans. The angels could assist you more efficiently if they knew where you are planning to shadow-walk to, in the case of a needed retreat."

* * *

Another group hurriedly entered the lobby. "Angels are coming down!" shouted a man. "Angels are coming down!"

Obviously, that did nothing to reassure the group. Tom spent a few moments trying to reassure the group, only to realize he'd lost control. In the end, he had to suffuse his voice with via, belting out an unnaturally strong "QUIET!" and tapping his staff down on the ground to send a ripple of low kinetic magic forth. That got the group's attention again.

"If things had already gone Biblical, you would've lost friends and family to the Rapture! Listen to me - as a Warlock of some ten thousand years old, this idea that God plays favorites is ridiculous! God's process for culling failing concepts is much more graceful than this, and nothing suggests the Anthropocene ends today with angels and demons coming to throw down on our doorstep! Yes, demons are among you and yes, so too are angels. What would you say if I showed you the people who'll keep you alive over the next few months? What would you say if I showed you their wings and their horns?"

A voice rang out. "Who are you, anyway? The news said you were Quint's cousin, but you look just like him! He was a Wizard too, and Shield had to bust him after scheming against this city one time too goddamned many!"

Tom sighed as he steeled himself. "My name is Tom. Tom Magnus. This is Thomas Quint's mortal coil - in that, you're entirely correct. I am - I was - an incubus from the province of Lust, and I grew tired of my vice's shallow pursuits! I wanted more out of my stolen lives, as do you with yours! I took Quint's body because I knew that with power stolen from Belial, I'd be able to bring about durable peace between our peoples. If the idiot was good for one thing, it was accruing power. A little manicure, a trip to the tailor's later, and I'd turned the local embarrassment into what you see before you."

The first man scoffed. "So we gotta trust some stinkin' demon with our lives?
- You don't have to," replied Tom, "your coming here was your own choice. For a few minutes more, the front doors are staying unlocked. If what I have to offer you doesn't inspire confidence, you're more than free to leave. You'll find other means of shelter down in the Pedway, in Centennial Park and at Holden Hall. And while I'm at it, if my nature doesn't appease you..."

Xavier Curran came down one of the stairwells connecting the main atrium with the first floor. "Maybe my presence will. Myself, Rabbi Horowitz, Imam Jarrah and Father Parsons are all here for you.
- Why didn't you stay in your churches?"

Benedict Parsons adjusted his glasses as he also walked down the stairs. "We all remember Elysium - Gregory Rendell had all churches, synagogues and mosques mortared, if you'll remember. He was faithless - you can imagine how craven the Prince of Pride will be, once his legions pour in en masse. Faith is with us; not with the edifices we use to celebrate it.
- So you believe him," a woman asked. "You believe this... demon.
- I believe him," countered Khalid, "because he's been far more proactive than many a brother I've met who were obsessed with Allah's judgment. I've never been one to bother with the hadiths calling for the butchering of innocents because of different creeds or skin colors, and the man who once sought counsel with the Pitspawn is now dead. What he left behind is being used by someone who clearly knows what they're doing."

Tom smirked. "I'd have grasped a lapel at that or maybe affected self-satisfaction, but we've got pressing matters at hand.
- We do," agreed the rabbi. "Everyone down to Hydroponics; we've got beds to apportion and self-care basics to hand out! I'm going to need a young boy or girl with a steady hand when it comes to their Torah - we're raising a golem for ourselves!"

That seemed to catch Tom off-guard. "I'm sorry, Rabbi Horowitz - did you say you wanted to raise a golem?!
- Yes, why? If Yaweh's given us the ability to instill His will in inert objects in times of need, I'd say this more than qualifies, doesn't it?
- Well, yes, but you don't have a copy of the Sefer Yetzirah on hand."

The old man sniffed and rolled his eyes. "Tommy-boy; you're like a lot of other practitioners I've met: as wise as Solomon one moment, then an utter trombenik the next. Someone who's been pushing their stuff around for ten thousand years is bound to have heard of Jewish magic, eh? I was going to ask you for your copy. Don't assume so much, it makes you pass for a fool."

A bit surprised, Tom could do little except blink at Aislinn. "Um... Sure, grandpa. Whatever you say."
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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Ciaran lightly raised his hand. "I'll stay behind for the coming refugees, and I'll keep you up to date on the trial," he offered.

Neasa nodded to her brother. "Thanks, Ciar," she said to him.

"Even if we're sedately removing him from Chimera Row, we should still be on our guard. The ensuing chaos and fire will draw the Pitspawn's attention, as mentioned," Meris reminded. "They'll be after us, along with the staff members."

Aspasia settled her gaze on the lich and back to the others. "You guys stay safe, and we'll keep in touch," she told them.

***

The rhino would hear cautious and soft footsteps heading for the door. The front door only had a peephole, but he'd be able to smell Ashley. He would sense a thirtysomething human woman of African descent. "Who is it?" she asked.

***

Alana nodded, having no problem of showing the retinue of angels the shadow portals. "Of course," she answered, following after them and moving ahead in order to show them the areas the Freaks could disappear into with their charges.

"Thank you for your help, Gabriel," Sophia replied with a light nod. Given Lucian's ascension, the dryad still looked tired, but more somber since the earlier joyful event. "I sense that they will try to approach Centennial Park at some point, as they had previously been camped here before Lucian's Ascension and were driven away."

***

Aislinn lightly poked the warthog on the shoulder. "Don't be so surprised. Rhadamantus' body worked on similar techniques, remember? He's an Animate in origin. The rabbi can probably improvise as needed," she sent to him.
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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Three reached the courthouse as steam began to billow out of the nearby manholes and all of the season's snow was quickly replaced by a pervasive haze. Night might have fallen, but there was something to its hue that suggested some sort of unnatural and oppressive heat wave, something that made the last few shoppers left try and find ways to carry their now-useless winter coats. Children obviously complained, and Drake himself regretted having taken his coat along for the ride. Inside the courthouse, a few visitors could be seen discussing with security guards regarding the possibility of having the central heating turned down. He didn't stick around to listen, but gathered they were having trouble.

From there, he reached the courtroom just as the judge lowered his bifocals and the two counselors parted. The bailiff gave him a wary glance, but few missed how a solid fifteen people amidst the audience turned as one and gave Drake an inscrutable glance. Back in the Hall, Ciaran would understand that the Goat had planted spies in the audience.

Stevens looked displeased. "Mister Drake, I understand that your cohorts have spent months securing this courtroom, but I was told you wouldn't impinge on the process. Should I be concerned?"

Three didn't need a masters in Legal defense to understand he'd been disruptive. He'd anticipated that the judge wouldn't care how alarmed he or others from Shield would've looked, his verdict needed to be issued. Cameras pivoted on Drake, and he nervously picked a seat.

"No, Your Honor. My concerns only apply for what comes after your verdict. We've tried to implement safeguards in this very room, as you'll remember, but you didn't let us. All public areas were safeguarded by either myself, mister Jenkins or miss McConmara; but we left this room without advanced monitoring, as per your request."

Stevens arched an eyebrow. "Are you exercising your authority as a local Summer Knight and authorized police consultant and vigilante to demand that a continuance be issued?"

Three licked his lips. "No, but I'd like the record to show that I asked Counselor Ephesian to prepare himself. We both know what's to come, and I'd like to formally discourage him from establishing his beach-head in this very room."

Laughter obviously sounded, as Three might as well have spoken gibberish. Ephesian's look was knowing, however. His smile was mocking, but his nod looked to be reluctantly cordial. That, however, Stevens didn't miss. It left him looking a bit quizzical for a moment, before he casually banged his gavel a few times, to silence the room's hushed discussions.

"Have the parties reached an agreement, Counselors?
- Yes, Your Honor," replied Liddy. "Full coverage for every signatory, plus four physical therapy sessions, effective immediately. Frank Lambert must concert with Hardy & Jameson over matters of his firm's liquidation, and facilities need to be leased from competing manufacturers, in order to preform issued repairs or physical therapies. We've agreed on Nakamura Cybernetics as the service-provider of choice and will begin liaisons with Tokyo within the week."

As she'd spoken, Leonard had taken a few steps back, his brow furrowing even as he was seemingly struggling to let a smile out. "Very well," said Judge Stevens, "in light of the defendant's amicable approach, I can only state that Frank Lambert is guilty of all charges of fraud, embezzlement and neglectful service-providing-"

The judge didn't finish, as the lights in the room began to flicker, even as what began as a quiet snicker out of Ephesian's throat rose to a full-throat Machiavellian peal of laughter. Cracks began to appear in the flooring and a chunk of the courtroom collapsed by a few inches, concrete debris and a neon light's cover falling from the ceiling as audience members and jurors alike screamed and ran for the doors.

"How does it feel, Leonard?" called the Goat. "How does it feel to grasp at redemption and to fail so spectacularly? Years spent working, establishing your client's innocence, and all I required was a compromise!"

Ephesian's soot-colored fur changed to an obsidian sheen as a sickly pale of dark magic began to fill the air, so thick even Three could sense it. "Even your friends, with their machinations and obvious care - what did they do except blacken you further? What did they do, except widen the gap for me to push through?!"

An oily mist rose out of Ephsian's eyes, mouth and ears and coalesced into the form of the same grim and grave version of the attorney the group had given birth to, in Hell. Eyes closed, drawing in his own fury, he did as he'd explained he would, and managed what millennial ghosts and spirits tended to achieve, in shifting to a fully corporeal appearance.

"It feels good," he challenged, teeth clenched. "Take my guilt, I don't need it anymore. Take my wounded pride, my regrets, my shames, and shove them down your throat! I'm free, now. I can serve Justice on a level even this man can't comprehend!" he said, pointing at Stevens. Considering the courtroom's disrepair and his position, the old man was stuck at his pulpit, fearfully gazing at the exchange. "You think you've stripped me of everything, burned my soul away entirely," challenged the Speaker for the Deceased, "when you've only given me aeons of rage to channel, oceans of tears to dry. For every wrong you've committed, you've lit a flame from which I can draw; you've given me purpose renewed."

The Black Goat sneered at him, golden irises narrowed. "Well, then. I'm glad to have been of use to you, but it doesn't change the fact that your precious world is mine. Starting now."

Something then seemed to shift in the world, like a sudden sense of deep-seated terror that would suddenly inhabit every living thing on the globe, for but an instant. Three clenched his teeth, Counsellor Liddy gasped - and back in Centennial Park, Sophia would feel her tree's emerging horror. Like a silent moan or a scream reduced to a whisper, it was both almost nothing and surged along the Tree's core like a burst of adrenaline. It was afraid, and not having a developed conscience, could not iterate on that fear. All it could do was flood Sophia with it, she being the only one who'd be able to act upon it or verbalize it.

And then, a cacophony of blaring car alarms, along with the low, tectonic moans of disturbed stones and shattered pipes. Behind and in front of him, the possessed rose and contorted their limbs, all arching forward in grotesque screams.

Leonard, seizing this as a distraction, gripped the Goat's head with both hands and pushed every ounce of suffering he and countless others had borne out of him. "YOU'VE BEEN SERVED, BLACK GOAT!" he seethed. "EONS OF PAIN, LIFETIMES OF CONFUSED RAGE AND REGRET - ALL BECKONING YOU TO A HEARING OF MY DISCRETION! WITH RHADAMANTUS IN THE SEAT, YOU WILL ANSWER FOR EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THESE CRIMES, AND ALL THOSE TO COME!"

As could be expected, with the cameraman likely dead by now, Ciaran wouldn't get a decent view. He'd hear enough to perceive the Goat's sudden and anguished scream, as well as his labored attempts to break free. "IF YOU'RE TO WIPE US OUT," shouted Leonard, "THEN IT'LL BE A BITTERSWEET VICTORY, TAINTED BY SORROWS YOU'LL NEVER EXTINGUISH! THIS IS ALL YOURS, MONSTER! ALL YOURS!"

The Goat eventually collapsed to the floor, Ephesian's ashen form still covered in billowing smoke. He looked down on the demon as if it were small and pitiful. "You'll think I've been merciful, compared to what Hope's restless dead will do to you."

Still seething, the Goat clenched his teeth and pulled at his necktie in sudden frustration, laboriously standing up. "Kill them," he pushed through clenched teeth, "kill them all!"

In that instant, the Damned would find themselves pinned in place by suddenly visible greenish shades, spirits drawing power from Leonard's own rage and desire for retribution. They all moved with inhuman and machinelike precision, only one of them standing out of the lot after blasting a few of the possessed with green-white fire from the tip of a Tommy gun.

Alphonse Biggs picked Three back up and on his feet, turned to put another volley into more possessed, and then whistled sharply at the judge. "Ey, Stevie-boy! I've cleared youse a path, so move your fat ass before my boys stop bein' able to pin 'em back! An' take the Liddy girl with'cha! Head out through the back door an' look for marked shadows in the walls! You've got a way back to Sophia through one o' those!"

The judge stammered. "A-Al Biggs?! You've been dead for twenty years!
- Yeah, yeah - s'quite the shocker, I know. Now move your keister unless you're fixin' on endin' up as demon chow!"

Three was a bit less surprised, by now. "How long can you hold?
- With Lenny-boy providin' the fuel?" he asked rhetorically, adjusting his fedora, "try a coupla weeks! The last time I was that lucky, we'd had the best Samhain in half a century!"

He stopped to spray another volley. "Less yappin', more survivin'! C'mon, Counsellor - let's make some tracks!"

The three men left, Three smoothly offering one of his pistols to Ephesian - just to be on the safe side.

* * *

All told, Archie and those who'd opted to follow along made it about halfway up to Point Judith Road and the exit leading to Chimera Row, before the road began to crack and glow ominously. Then, at the cue offered by a wave of inexplicable bone-white terror, the blacktop more or less exploded from underneath the Daisy Two. "BY GEORGE AND ALL THE SAINTS!" was Archie's unusually fearful swear of choice as he fought to regain control of the vehicle and simultaneously realized that some chitinous horror was now riding atop the rear engine block.

Goggle-laden eyes flitting between the approaching creature, which looked like a Komodo dragon crossed with a bull squid, and the remainder of the road ahead, Holden had no choice but to give Meris a pleading look. "A little help, if you please!" he requested, sheer panic manifesting as an unusual rattling noise in the back of his voice. The problem was that with Holden stepping on the proverbial gas and the vehicle being a low-rider, they couldn't exactly stop on a dime and let the Archmage step out to fry the offending Hellspawn. Either Meris felt fit enough to try her hand at movie-worthy stunt work, or she had enough aim to lob something at the creature from the passenger seat.

* * *

Billy ogled the peephole as if it were a person, giving it a half-goofy and half-menacing grin. "Cooee, I'm your Friendly Neighbourhood Demon Smasher of the moment and, well, I don't mean to nag or anything but, um..."

Making a moue, he pointed in the direction in which screams could be heard approaching. "I'd say you've got five, maybe six o' Pazuzu's very determined cousins racing in for some multiracial chow-"

He paused, blinked and shook his head. "Not now, egghead, hurtin' 'em's not part of the plan!" he said, then giving Ashley another blithe smile. "Sorry about that - killer headache, it is. See the upturned Impala buckin' like a Bronco on its own? I was just in there. The owner put me in it, so, um, I guess you can sorta say I know this place and the Robertsons!"

Billy then leaned towards the peephole. "What's it gonna be, hm? Y'girls might want an adult in the room, when it comes to bashin' heads in - and trust me, there's heads a-comin'..."

* * *

Fear struck the tree, Gabriel sensed it in his own way, and checked his weapon as if it were any other mundane rifle. "You'd be correct," he agreed. "The front lines are already forming."

He'd barely spoken that Arthur was heard calling for the bait chamber's occupants to ready themselves. In another corner of the gallery, Horatio was asking of his clowns and performers to put on the best show the Grimley Circus would've ever seen. Judging by what followed, it served as code for using the shadows provided by a building near the park to attack the forming Hell portal in front of the tree. The undead managed to slow down the surprisingly methodical influx of Damned, but couldn't stop it outright. Before long, the addled Weaver looked torn between his bloodline's mantle of gleeful insanity, an understandable level of rage, an obvious rising pall of sorrow, and all the tactical necessities that still remained. Between sobs he tried to frame as clownish giggles, Grimley called out to his friends and allies of the past two hundred years.

"Yes, my friends! Dance! Dance and jeer! Bring them cheer as we slice-and-dice through their numbers! We once danced under the moonlight for those seeking counsel from the Greek gods, and now you make them fools of Pride's ambition! Pails of jester-red for every Fiend, from our very own veins - all to safeguard this Divine Comedy! Slay away, my friends - but don't leave me! Oh please, for the love of God, don't leave me!"

Phineas tried to console his friend as best he could. "We all knew what we signed up for, when we agreed to follow you here, Horatio. The Circus only needs a Ringleader to survive, and you've still got me. I'll patch up the survivors as best I can."

Grimley sniffled. "But they'll go feral if they're too injured or if they take in too much demon blood! And then, they'll be really gone!"

Horatio's wails might have been exaggerated in tone, but what was filtered through his madness was genuine sorrow.

Gabriel glanced at Sophia and then approached Horatio. "I can't make promises mister Grimley, but after the planar merger, I can probably allow those who reach us to return to the mortal plane as visitors, free of Lilith's curse.
- But then, it won't be them!" protested Horatio. "It'll be their minds, their flesh - without our brilliance!
- I can't in good conscience allow for a burdened spirit to enter Heaven, mister Grimley," explained Gabriel. "They deserve a clear head, if they reach eternal rest. Wouldn't you agree?
- I don't want your boorish sanity, Archangel!" spat Horatio. "The Circus raised me out of Dalarath's evil deeds, I won't be made guilty of what I now laugh at!"

Sighing, Gabriel looked back at Sophia. "That's a problem for another time, I think."

* * *

As the sensory knell sounded, Tom tapped his staff against the floor a few more times. "Alright - everyone downstairs! Sariel, Sophie - Arm the security systems! Someone find Horowitz some concrete bags, I want someone else to come forward to receive my and Aislinn's passcode for our penthouse! My copy of the Sefer Yetzirah is on the second shelf in the living room - and it's an old one! You break it, you most assuredly have bought it! Wormy, topside for the Pride sap, then you're on rest for five hours! Aislinn, Amenadiel, with him! I'm staying here to prime the neighborhood's choke points!"

Groups formed, some people still wailing or sobbing in response to the wave of terror, but Herbert's supernatural pride had more or less shielded him from it. "I'll be completely exposed up there," he said, "and I'll need a fair bit of energy to build up my Pride to that extent!
- I wonder why simple resolve wouldn't suffice as a deterrent," grumbled Amenadiel. "I suppose Magnus wants the Fiends to know we won't back down easily."

Herbert made a slight moue. "The dregs of the Pit don't respond all that much to mere resolution, dear fellow. They constantly run into more of their ilk, all supremely interested in gnawing one another's faces off. The contempt of their betters gives them pause, however - and my being a turncoat doesn't change the fact that I am their better. Souls that come crashing down filled with the stubborn desire to survive are a dime a dozen. Souls with enough Ego to ward off attacks entirely, however, are a blessed rarity on the mortals' side."

Amenadiel scoffed. "And here I was thinking you were just a glorified paper-pusher...
- Glorified, yes," amended Wormsworth, "entirely by design. The Goat simply never expected one of his myriad little Ego hacks to grow enough of a sense of personal dignity to realize your side has its merits."
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