Daimon Helstrom

New York City's usual scent of urine and garbage was now being infused with brimstone. Lovely. It was enough to bring a scowl to an already tense face. "And here I thought you were on your way to a costume party." Elsa retorted. Was he above blending in? The Financial District wasn't Times Square or Hell's Kitchen, where people would maybe expect to see a cloak.

Knowing a version of him was — to an extent — enough. It was an indicator that they likely were on the same side, even if their approaches and methods would vary. It also, however, put her instantly on edge. The Son of Satan was, at the end of the day, still the Son of Satan.

Oh she was full of piss and vinegar today wasn't she. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck quirk up and nearly set ablaze, but he needed to stay calm. He was the peaceful Hellstrom after all. The one that took more after their mother.

"If you'd be so kind to remember, all I've been trying to do is talk business, miss Bloodstone." He said, the smoothness and composure returning to him. "Ana and I did set up a business yes. We decided that would be the best solution for maintaining balance between the infernal and mortal, and we've done a hell of a job doing so." He added, acting as if his pun weren't entirely intentionally.

"Have you come here to check in on your resident prince of hell?"

She was not in the mood. Not in the mood at all. In Elsa's defense, it was too damn cold for anyone to be in the mood for anything. London got cold. The countryside where she grew up got even colder. In general, the motherland had a generally gray vibe that was off putting to many. For Elsa, it was home. She could take a chill. The current temperature in New York, however, far exceeded that. It felt like a deep-in-the-bones kind of frost that threatened to freeze you through. It was the kind of night that called for closed shutters and steaming mugs of tea. Instead, Elsa was subjected to something far different.

Monster hunting was brutal work. Sometimes sexualized in the media, sure, but brutal work all the same. It wasn't all sexy corsets and looking hot with a gun. It was work — bloody, violent, gruesome. Add in a winter parka and it was downright annoying. Suddenly, you were fighting not only the ghoul of the night but also your own heavy coat as you tried to find the weapon buried underneath all the layers. A crossbow on your back? Good luck wrestling off if you're wearing a scarf.

As a result, Elsa was freezing. She had sacrificed warmth for mobility. It was easier to stalk the streets if you weren't being weighed down. Being cold, ultimately, was also a great motivator. Find the rogue demon that was crossing the line, dispatch it back to hell, return home to her biscuits. The search so far had lead her to Exchange Alley in the Financial District, which was one of five functioning alleys on Manhattan. A bit cliched, but at least it was private. She didn't need to deal with gawker's as she wiped guts off herself.

Feeling eyes on her, Elsa quickened her pace for a few steps so she could wrap a hand around the gun tucked into her waistband. One quick glance backwards, however, slowed her momentum to a halt as she recognized the face.

He was not in the mood. Not in the mood at all. It was frigid, he had been comfortable in his warm bathrobe, burning a brimstone scented candle with a nice Bordeaux and then he gets a page. No he's had to venture out into the frigid temperatures that could nearly freeze hell over to find Vielzib, an imp that has grown too big an ego.

Vielzib was no stranger to the Hellstrom's. Ordinarily he was harmless. Just extraordinarily obnoxious, but now he'd gone to far. Gotten his hands on some sort of occult text and learned how to make deals with mortals. Took years off of some mortals life for some of the most ridiculous outcomes. This is not something an imp waas permitted to do, and of fortunately it was Daimon's turn to take him in. He'd have to imprison him in a mirror until the gates of hell could be accessed once again, then he'd exorcise him from the plane.

Dressed in his red and black suit with a long black cloak he made his way through the city. He followed the imp's infernal energy. If he were to describe the way it felt to track him it was as if you were smelling rotten eggs while eating an apple. A sickening experience but one he had grown numb to.

He was within the next blocks of Vielzib when he noticed a strange character. A fit woman that he could feel frustration and determination off of. It took him a moment and a glimpse at her soul to realize who this was. Elsa Bloodstone of Earth 616. One of their multiversal guests. Hellstrom & Hellstrom LLC had done some research on her. A potential threat to their whole business practice. His body faded into his shadow before rising from the shadows near her, the scent of brimstone stinging the nostrils being the only sign of magic.