Metro Woman

youcanttrapjustice:

[That is a thoroughly generic and non-helpful answer. Are they for-realsies from hell type demons? Are they monsters who just so happen to look infernal? Because it would be nice to know if she’s going to have to get holy water and hope that someone else’s faith is enough to kill them or if she is going to be able to just wade into things and kill them herself.]

[That name drop, however, does give her a helpful answer on how deep shit could be. Still doesn’t tell her how to kill the fucks, though. Ah, well, might as well try her favorite. Violence.]

‘Stupid’ is the word I’d use. [She aims a laser blast towards the center of the horned-one’s head.]

As Wendalyn leans in to aim her lasers, Harrison takes a shot of his own.  He aims his de-gun at the winged wraith, silently praying that the gun’s upgrades will do their job.  However the shot misses when the agile demon twists in the air at the last second.

“Shit!” Harrison yelps.  And for some reason, that is what sets his son off.

Devin begins to wail.  Not merely fuss or yell, but wail.  The sound rips right through Harrison’s heart and he can feel the force of fear behind it.  His son is petrified, probably feeding off Harrison’s own uncontrollable fear.  

Meanwhile the horned demon lets out a roar of pain, scrambling to cover his face from Wendalyn’s laser vision.  But the fly demon is on her in an instant, tangling his talon’s in her brown locks and lifting her up into the sky by her hair as Harrison screams “NOO!”.  He tries to curl into a little ball around his son, deflecting blows from the wraith by conjuring a magical bubble around the two of them.  But even as his magic holds, the barrier does nothing to cut the sounds of Devin’s terrified screams.  

[It’s a bit of a pity that she doesn’t have the chance to make a remark about Harrison’s pathetic aim, but she is given other things to worry about. Namely, the indignity of being being picked up by her hair. But, in the end, it’s Devin who makes her decide that she is just done with this whole situation.]

Pieces of demon lie all around him, with pools of ichor and splatters of what he assumes is demon blood.  Oh god.  She must have….. did she?  She must have used her super speed…..  He lets the shield drop, still holding a crying Devin who has buried his face in his father’s chest as he wails.  Good, Harrison thinks.  He doesn’t need to see this.  He doesn’t need to remember this.  He doesn’t know what to do or say, and so he just stands there blinking as Wendalyn looks down at them.  

Do you mean my costume or normal clothes? ‘Cause I’d say that the costume inspires plenty of awe in people. [She takes a drink of her tea, unbothered by the near boiling temperature. So much of this magic stuff is still beyond her, so she genuinely doesn’t understand why someone would want a glorified hat. Then again, it is Tank, so it might not have anything to do with magic and might just be part of his… unique fashion sense.] And who, may I ask are we going to see? That bear guy who gave us a ride before? Uh, Thor, I think it was?

“Th’costume, then.” Huginn takes another gulp of his tea after blowing on it a few times, and gets his cell phone out. He texts Harrison surprisingly quickly, considering that the cell phone shakes a little in his hands like he has some difficulty with holding it and typing with his thumbs at the same time.

Harrison, Wendalyn just told me what happened. We’re going to Asgaard to find some way of protecting you and yours. Stay safe, call Freki if anything happens. 

                    ｃ ｏ ｎ ｔ ｒ ｏ ｌ ｓ ｍｅ

[That look isn’t exactly comforting. She can’t tell whether he is reading her mind or is just upset. But at least this confirms how much Huginn cares about the little family and that she is right in coming to him about it.] From what I understood during the confrontation, this whole demon thing is reoccurring and this group was on the weak end of things, so, yes, if you know someone or something that can help, sooner rather than later, I’m all for travelling to where ever.

“Alright, finish your tea and grab an overnight bag - we’re gonna be ‘eadin’ over to Asgaard. Might take a day if ‘e’s busy - and ‘e likely is. I’ll ring Harrison and let ‘im know.” Huginn takes a gulp of his tea, grimacing at the heat. 

youcanttrapjustice:

[That is a thoroughly generic and non-helpful answer. Are they for-realsies from hell type demons? Are they monsters who just so happen to look infernal? Because it would be nice to know if she’s going to have to get holy water and hope that someone else’s faith is enough to kill them or if she is going to be able to just wade into things and kill them herself.]

[That name drop, however, does give her a helpful answer on how deep shit could be. Still doesn’t tell her how to kill the fucks, though. Ah, well, might as well try her favorite. Violence.]

‘Stupid’ is the word I’d use. [She aims a laser blast towards the center of the horned-one’s head.]

As Wendalyn leans in to aim her lasers, Harrison takes a shot of his own.  He aims his de-gun at the winged wraith, silently praying that the gun’s upgrades will do their job.  However the shot misses when the agile demon twists in the air at the last second.

“Shit!” Harrison yelps.  And for some reason, that is what sets his son off.

Devin begins to wail.  Not merely fuss or yell, but wail.  The sound rips right through Harrison’s heart and he can feel the force of fear behind it.  His son is petrified, probably feeding off Harrison’s own uncontrollable fear.  

Meanwhile the horned demon lets out a roar of pain, scrambling to cover his face from Wendalyn’s laser vision.  But the fly demon is on her in an instant, tangling his talon’s in her brown locks and lifting her up into the sky by her hair as Harrison screams “NOO!”.  He tries to curl into a little ball around his son, deflecting blows from the wraith by conjuring a magical bubble around the two of them.  But even as his magic holds, the barrier does nothing to cut the sounds of Devin’s terrified screams.  

[It’s a bit of a pity that she doesn’t have the chance to make a remark about Harrison’s pathetic aim, but she is given other things to worry about. Namely, the indignity of being being picked up by her hair. But, in the end, it’s Devin who makes her decide that she is just done with this whole situation.]

[She can almost imagine his neck feathers floofing out in that moment of astonishment. In another situation it might be quite comical, as it is, Wendalyn keeps her mild amusement to herself.]

[Following after him, she grabs an excessively colorful cup and adds a green tea and water to the mug, before leaning on the opposite side of the island from Tank.] There were three of them, each different from each other, but all black. Beyond that, I’m not sure exactly what details you’d like about their descriptions. As for Devin, he wasn’t wearing a scarf, but I have no idea what he had on under his snowsuit.

Huginn drums his fingers on the table, his jaw tightening. “Right right, on account ov I’ve given that to Harrison, ‘aven’t I? I ought make more, really. S’all about intent in those, but I’m a shit spellcraft an’ worse for not knowin’ wot could threaten.”

[Well, there goes her idea of offering him Bob Ross DVDs. Oh, well, she’d figure something out or he would. She trusts him to not fuck her over.] To the point today, huh?

[She hums an amused note, but settles in to explain what she needs.] So, I know that you are friends with Metro Man and his family. Recently, Harrison and the boy were attacked by a group of demons. Which I handled without a scratch on any of us, but I’m not so foolish as to think that my fists can solve every incident involving demons. I also don’t think that Harrison’s parlor tricks are enough. What I would like to ask you about is something better to protect Devin.

Huginn opens his mouth and inhales, ready to give her an undoubtedly witty reply. Then he shuts his yap with a sharp ‘click’, eyes widening as he stands up. 

“Demons…In Metro City?” He starts in on the questioning, then flinches when the kettle screams. He holds up a hand towards the noise to ask it to stop, then huffs and rolls his eyes at himself and stomps off to take it off the stove. He makes quite a bit more noise than is actually necessary. 

Well, you’re not wrong about me having a reason. [Perhaps she should take that as a hint to force the old bird outside more often and not for any personal reason.]

[They head inside and she eyes his painting before settling on his couch. Oil paint isn’t supposed to be drippy, so either he bought super cheap paint or he’d added far too much thinner. That was pretty much the extent of her knowledge on the matter, so she can’t smell the difference between errors.] Might I suggest Bob Ross? His stuff is therapeutic and educational.

Huginn chuffs, clicking his tongue. “Therapeutic, yeah, ‘e ‘ad a right calmin’ voice. Better in person. I rather like seein’ strangers though. Fewer things t’remember ‘bout ‘em if y’don’t already know ‘em.” He flicks his hands dry over the sink and wipes the rest on his shirt, dropping his kettle on the stove and fetching out a couple of cups to set on the counter. 

[She lifts a brow at his paint spattered appearance. Tank looking disheveled is nothing new, but this particular hobby is. Then again, maybe she just hadn’t noticed previously.]

Not much with me. What about yourself? [Not a lie, but not the whole truth either. Not that she’s being coy, Wendalyn would just rather not start making requests of the guy before even greeting him properly.]

“Oh, come now,” he chides, wagging a colorful finger. “You’d not be ‘ere without some form of request or reason. C’mon in, Wendalyn and Fakk 2.” He walks away from the door, orange paint now splattering into his hair.

He pulls the brush out with a slightly offended look and sets it on the resting bar of an easel. The painting isn’t great, but it’s not bad per se either. It looks like a bunch of flowers, colors dripping and messy, but recognizable as flora at least. There’s a laptop open with a paused tutorial about what looks to be oil painting. The loud punk rock must have been coming from the playlist bar in the lower corner.

[After the fight with the demons, Wendalyn had been trying to find ways to protect Devin. Sure, she can fight and Harrison can kind of ward the apartment, but there were still big flaws in how and where the child could be defended. She has very little faith in his abilities to use magic effectively against an enemy, particularly those of the infernal variety.]

[No, she wants something stronger than his little shields and toy guns. So far her scouring of the library and of the city’s underbelly isn’t turning up anything particularly useful. Sure, there are possible resources, but they either come at a price she isn’t willing to pay or they flat aren’t reliable enough. Having exhausted most of her possibilities, Wendalyn decides that it’s time to reach out a little further and contact someone with vaster resources than she could manage.]

Huginn opens it and peeks out, blinking in confusion. He’s got a smudge of paint across his cheek and is still holding a paintbrush in his free hand. A dab of orange splats onto the floor even as he tucks it behind an ear and grins at her, crossing his arms to lean against the door frame.

“Oh, ‘ey there Wendalyn, ‘ow’s things?”

youcanttrapjustice:

dark-blue-mondays:

“Wendnalyn, I don’t have time for your cryptic bullshit!” Harrison explodes back at her, his anger pitching Devin from a cranky whine to a full-fledged wail.  He instantly gathers Devin tighter in his arms.  “Shhh, shhh my love,” he coos at his son.  

That’s when he notices how dark it is outside and that all the other children seem to have left the park.  He looks around frantically, not sure what is happening here.  At the edge of the treelines, the shadows lengthen until they become figures, a trio of terrifying demonic creatures 

You idiot, I- [She had been too busy trying to argue with Harrison and to get some sense through to the blue loudmouth to notice the strange scents in the air or Fakk 2 acting nervous. The dog most certainly would not have reacted that way to most other threats and aggression is definitely more what Wendalyn would have paid attention to.]

What the fuck are those? [Even though she’s not sure what she is up against, Wendalyn takes a few steps towards the creatures, putting herself between them and innocent lives.] Fakk 2. Guard.

-All of her instincts say to flee. These things are wrong and dangerous. But Mistress has given her a job. Mistress knows best. Fakk 2 steps next to the blue man and the blue pup. She will protect them because Mistress says.-

Harrison’s eyes widen and his mouth goes dry.  Oh god, its happening.  It had been so long since the last attack and he knew it would happen again.  But now it’s here and he’s not ready.  He’s just terrified and trying not to tremble as he holds his wailing baby as tight as he can.  

“Demons,” he shudders, his voice barely a whisper.  But his horror doesn’t last long.  It can’t.  He instantly kneels down and retrieves a degun from an ankle holster.  He’s still holding Devin, but now one hand is extending the weapon at the trio.  His shot is partially blocked by Wendalyn’s back, but he needs to make at least some kind of stand for his son.  

“I’ve seen what happens to one of your kind when they get hit with this,” he says, trying his best to sound brave as Devin continues to sob.  “Go back to the hell pit you crawled out of and you won’t find out.”  

The only response is a low chuckle.  The horned one speaks first.  “Israfil said you were funny,” said the horned one.  

“He also promised a prize for whomever brings him your sons body,” the fly-like demon buzzed.  

The shadowy wraith let out a gutteraly shriek and soon all three were rushing towards them.  

[That is a thoroughly generic and non-helpful answer. Are they for-realsies from hell type demons? Are they monsters who just so happen to look infernal? Because it would be nice to know if she’s going to have to get holy water and hope that someone else’s faith is enough to kill them or if she is going to be able to just wade into things and kill them herself.]

[That name drop, however, does give her a helpful answer on how deep shit could be. Still doesn’t tell her how to kill the fucks, though. Ah, well, might as well try her favorite. Violence.]