It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas (Part 2)
Roleplaying Log: It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas (Part 2)
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

Part 2 of the Christmas Ball

Other Characters Referenced: Many.
IC Date: December 18, 2018
IC Location: Pier 60, Chelsea Piers, NYC
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 19 Dec 2018 17:53
Rating & Warnings: R
NPC & GM Credits: Barbara Gordon and Owen Mercer
Associated Plots

There's a rather feral, animal-sounding growl emitted from Chase as he stares down the Hellraiser with the mace that comes charging at him once again. This time however, Chase charges right back, and as that mace comes crashing down, it's deftly blocked by plate armor! Chase's hand twists and takes the demon's own arm, gripping tight and giving it a really nice twist that leaves the shoulder dislocated and bones broken in two places. The mace goes clattering to the ground as the Hellraiser makes an unstrategic retreat.

Returning to Akari, looking like a knight in shining armor, he motions towards a door that's now unguarded. "Come with me, let's get you out of here," he says with a deep, almost nonhuman rumble.

* * *

As Warren Worthington complains about fighting in his suit, Alison turns him a look. A grin hooks her mouth, there-and-gone, quick like a snakebite.

"I'm not complaining," she says to that. "And you can whine when you have to do it in heels."

Then she lets go — lets down that focus she always employs, every second of her public life, to keep the light at bay. With it dropped, Dazzler manifests as always she should be — crowned in flaring, incandescent light, like solar coronal flares licking from their source. It's an adjustment to the eye to take her in, but not painful to see — she's not that charged.

Meeting Angel's glance, Dazzler silently agrees. She runs with light —

But even that does not grant her full immunity to all the chaos, and she notices, a second too-late, that charge. Fortunately, Psylocke intercepts with a flash of that familiar psi-blade.

"Quick reflexes," Dazzler says of that, realizing with widened eyes, her close call. "Thank you."

Her eyes — no longer blue, but also flaring with light — redirect on the rest of the scene. It draws Dazzler a moment's surprise as many of the crowd, rather fleeing like civilians — are intercepting the attack.

She's not certain to make of these "demons" — though she's not an amateur when it comes to fighting oddities. But even as they… change, and seem to evolve into something /bigger//, it stops Dazzler a beat. "You've got to be kidding me," she murmurs to herself.

They ROAR. The windows shake, and —

Dazzler's light FLARES in response, against her will, the living transducer that absorbs sound. She tightens her hands. "Lovely. Always a delight when they want to help."

With a glance to Psylocke, she charges forward — nothing but a headlong rush, amped with a plume of photonic explosion at her feet. And to make this night even more strange, is the musician/celebrity cannoning herself full contact at the grey behemoth at the bar, seeking to collide with an explosive detonation of her burning light.

It rains down sparks of all colours — not too different from her light shows.

* * *

"Aiie!" Dinah shrieks in pain as the shank slips between two ribs. The sound's loud enough to temporarily deafen her attacker. Still, she never stops moving. Dinah drives an straight back, then straight up, clipping an exposed jaw under the mask. Before her attacker can stumble she grabs his wrist and kicks both feet in the air. His hand's tucked under her knee mid-flight and with a *crack* she takes the stabber for a wild ride that ends up with him down for 12-18 weeks of physical therapy after he wakes up.

"Fuck!" she snarls, palming her ribs. It's just past her midline where she can't get to it. No time to worry, then. Dress sporting a bold new rib-exposing 'look', she vaults a table and slams a knee into one of the mooks who isn't currently Hulking out.

* * *

Betsy pauses, watching the demon boned creatures growing on the stage. She will glance at Alison, before she's blinking over at Arthur with his trident. She is so going to have a talk with him, later. This was not previously discussed stuff!

Psylocke will take a hand to flick full skirts out of the way, before she runs at the stage. She will use her TK to leap towards the ones coming off the stage, diving headlong with a wedge of TK shield in front of her, trying to wedge into them and try to knock them down like bowling pins. The first one she comes across will be sliced at with her psi-katana. She maybe didn't think this through.

* * *

— on Dazzler's sound-fueled impact, the behemoth explodes as if she has struck a guts-filled pinata. The skin splits, the force breaking those incredibly resilient bone. Ropes of intestines that are fat and purple slingshot into the air along with bits of other organs and sinew; muscle and skin scatters the bar and its surrounding space in a radius of gore. Poor Dazzler was at the dead epicenter of the explosion, too, and inevitably slammed with physics at the outward blast of inhuman innards.

A scent that had been, until now, only offending Matt Murdock's nose finally is caught by all those on this half of the hall: the vial reek of something raw and chemical.

* * *

The roar of aggression that bellows forth from the now massive Hellraisers is enough to cause true panic in the remnants of the crowd not currently clad in spandex or tech. But the now beastly beasts are not content to merely make noise. They are out to cause some true pain. Leaping from the stage one of the skull clad hulks lands on the floor and easily lifts the a table meant for eight and repurposes it for two, namely Dazzler and Warren, by chucking it at them.

"I'm too young to die!" Declares a very much not young, faux-blond socialite screeching in the middle of the room unhelpfully. One of the knock-off Banners reaches her in what seems to be two easy steps of nearly fifteen feet each and picks her up with one hand. "IMMA GONNA EAT YOU!!" One of the other Hellraisers turns to give their own a WTF Dude? look but then shrugs and guesses that eating people falls in line with the general theme of chaos and murder.

The mook that Dinah attacks grunts but doesn't budge at the flying knee, instead he grabs her by the knee and bellows something unintelligible about goldfish or goldilocks maybe (?) at her before trying to slam her into the ground. While their strength and durability may have increased a thousand fold, their banter is quite frankly lacking.

* * *

In the middle of the chaos, Dick finds himself at one point bumping up a familiar rear end. What? Have you seen her costumes? "Hey Dinah," he greets the lady attached to it, without glancing back from their back-to-back stance. It's a comfortable position to fight from, and a familiar one. From there, the two take on the thugs surrounding them, taking them in pairs versus three or four at a time. And two is pretty easy odds!

They get that little bit of cardio, maybe even start to feel like they're getting an upper hand…

…and then things get worse.

"Oh come on. These guys are starting to make me pine for your average Gotham low-life street tough." Nevermind Gotham's own endless cavalcade of superpowered weirdos.

"Alright let's- oh wow!" See? Even if he doesn't get her autograph, at least he's getting a Dazzler light show!

However, he's dragged back to the moment as Dinah yelps behind him, twirling around to make sure she's OK.

"Let's see if we can't handle one of these big ones. Think I can borrow your big lungs?"

Powered, hulking, brutish thugs are no deterrent to the 'normy' Grayson. Him and the Bat have handled worse nightly. And he's pegging this for a 'bigger there are, harder they… yadda yadda' kind of situation.

He picks one of the half-dozen or so to aim for, pulling and flinging another 'rang (this one of the shaped explosive kind) to catch it's attention, at least. "Hey there, big fella. We've got a soundtrack, you looking for someone to dance with?"
Expecting it to charge, he prepares an acrobatic vault and dodge, the whole thing designed to put it off balance like the big old oaf it is.

Off balance so that maybe Dinah can get a nice, clean shot?

* * *

TIM DRAKE WAYNE, WEALTHY YOUNG PERSON has vanished. Which is probably for the best, look how dangerous this all is.

Instead, there's RED ROBIN.

In full cape and cowl, the Red Knight straightens up, rolling his neck. The suit's heavier than the one he usually wears in New York, more designed for the grim spookiness of working in Gotham City. The leather and kevlar, the way all his skin is covered except for the area around his mouth, just radiates that distinctive I work alone vibe the detective has been avoiding with the Titans.

But, you know, magic is a funny thing.

There's a quiet *paff* of compressed air releasing as the vigilante fires a grapple line at the ceiling, yanking himself into the air over the crowd as he flies free of Zatanna and Raven's concealing shadows, the latter of which probably heralding an awkward conversation that will need to be had later. Right now, though, it's time to get to work. In the air, the vigilante's black cape spreads out behind him, one hand reaching to the compartment on his utility belt at the back, drawing the short cylinder that will soon prove to be one of his collapsible battle staves: His other hand, meanwhile, produces a pair of yellow discs (they have the Red Robin bird's head profile logo on them (branding is very important)) which he hurls at the Hulkraisers. The discs actually each contain two small compartments, each of those with a particular chemical: Once thrown, the dividers between the chemicals are bound to shatter, causing them to mix, the reaction generating a dramatic effect as once they (hopefully) hit one of the burly attackers, or the floor at their feet, the heat around them is violently absorbed in a rapid cryonic reaction, looking to freeze out the powered goons.

* * *

Oh, BETSY is gonna a talk with Arthur?! try vice versa!

After making sure his target was very dead, Arthur lifts his eyes towards the stage, and with a twirl of his Trident, he smiles a devilish smile that pretty much sums up the wrath of the sea. "YAHOOOOO!" he cries out as he leaps forward, Trident held overhead, as he charges the beasts on the stage!

"YOU WANT TO UP THE ANTE?! YOU GOT IT!" Arthur howls mid flight. Seems he wants to try to put a quick end to things.

* * *

Jason Todd stares up at the stage and feels a flicker of something up his spine. It's not fear. It's familiarity. Jason, after all, has been in the realms beyond, even if he doesn't exactly remember the experience. BUt it's like the smell is familiar to him, the fecund reek of damnation roiling off of these things and making the Red Hood grit his teeth.

He drops a hand to his belt and pulls off a small grenade, flicking the pin away and hurling it up towards the stage. He wishes he brought the bigger guns, but he hadn't gotten around to smuggling them in yet. If any of the gang members have automatic firearms, though, Jason's not above scooping one up and using it on its former owners. If there's fear in him, it doesn't show, the bloody bat symbol on his chest standing out.

And then there's a Robin in the room and he shakes his head, "Just…friggin'…great…"

* * *

Unlike the rest of the Titans, she doesn't have a costume.

"Ah, shit," Zatanna mutters, still hiding underneath the bar, glancing down at her dress mournfully. "This was a few hundred dollars." Chewing on her bottom lip, she groans, reluctantly embracing the capes-and-tights life by pointing at herself. The beautiful, black affair unspools into tendrils, ensnaring her within the growing cocoon.

When she emerges, she's wearing stage attire - the white corset, the bowtie, the tailcoat, the black stilettos and the tophat….the fishnets.

"All I need is a stage and a metal pole," the magician grouses under her breath, just as a growing shadow suddenly overtakes her side of the room - it is not any of her doing. She then looks up…and squawks.

She manages to leap and dive out of the way when the gray behemoth smashes into the bar counter, nearly crushing her if she had lingered there. Her heart racing, she reaches into the inner pocket of her tailcoat to wedge the black and violet domino mask Tim had made for her on her nose. She stares, wide-eyed, at the massive Incredible Bulk that just destroyed the beautiful bar, and all of that booze.

"Alright, ugly, I've encountered my share of haters," she tells him - it?. "But don't hate me because I'm— "

And there's the Dazzler, cannonballing into the monster in a shower of shimmer and color. She pauses.

"Oh my god, I love you so much!!"

Just as the monster explodes and covers them both in a shower of viscera.

Drip. Drip.

"….it's fine, I still love you!"

Zatanna and her ridiculous devotion.

* * *

You know… tables are very handy things. Not only do people use them to place things 'on' but it's a handy place to be 'under' as everything falls down around them. Akari is one such person. And for the record: She's not cut out for this line of work, in her rather frank opinion.

As the armored doctor comes back, Akari's already scrambling out from under the table to start towards the exit. Wait. By the way - When did it become so bright?

* * *

Daredevil is, for a good part of the fight, utterly in his element. Outnumbered and outclassed? Bring it on. He'll duck and weave and take a bodyblow and keep on delivering pain in equal measure with every single weapon, limb, and joint at his command. He lives for all this, the sounds of breaking bones and the taste of blood from the cut on his tongue, the ache in his ribs when an oversized fist slams into Jane Foster's handywork.

It would be fine if it weren't for the goddamn smell. Something acrid and foul and growing every stronger, prompting him to retch briefly in his mouth. It's distraction enough to allow one of his two remaining combatants to slam a fist into his back and nearly bowl him over. That's followed by the truly gruesome explosion of guts and bodily fluids around his bar-none favorite pop star of all time. The stench is almost debilitating; it winds him like few body-blows ever could. Still, he manages to swallow back bile and barrels shoulder-first into one of his combatants, trying to drive him into the edge of the bar.

* * *

Dinah has spent her entire life fighting people bigger and stronger than her. Emphasis on both. Some of them flat out monstrous, a la Bane and the likes of The Blob. She doesn't win by being the strongest. She wins by being the best.

With remarkable dexterity she whips her body around when her knee is grabbed, wrapping ankles around that wrist and forearm and using the whole of her weight to yank the bruiser off balance. Super strength is great, but you can't cheat the physics of leverage. The resultant throw is somewhat spectacular as the monstrous thug is flung violently away from her, smashing through two tables and a crystal display.

When the big bruiser lunges for Dick, Dinah barrels up behind Grayson and clamps her palms over his ears.

And she *SCREAMS*. Unending breath. It ties to the sound and fury emanating from Dazzler's music, finding a harmony with the shuddering frequency of the mutant's explosive light show and turning the combined noise into a truly ruinous cacophany wherever those explosions are aimed.

* * *

Alison's glib remark draws a smirk from Warren. "I'm not complaining about the heels," is his response, before he turns and disappears into the air in a clap of wings.

Angel isn't technically close enough to hear Starfire, but he already seems to be doing on training and instinct what she needs to extract the Councilman: clearing the area directly in front of those doors out onto the terrace of the terrified civilians, who one by one are picked up and flown out by a winged pararescue. His efforts pause only when a bright burst of light draws his attention back towards the stage. Dazzler, running facefirst into one of the transformed gangsters with an explosion of photonic light. Psylocke, hot on her heels in her full gown.

Warren sighs internally. Especially when the thing EXPLODES in gore.

Turning in the air, he wings back towards Alison — just in time to grab her and wheel sharply to loop them both over the flung table. "You owe me… something, for having to touch you while you're covered in this," he says, as he sweeps low to drop her back off. "I'm not sure what yet, but — "

He cuts off — or maybe more accurately, dopplers off, because his airspeed is already carrying him swiftly back across the room, low over people's heads. One of the combatants hassling the temporarily-incapacitated Daredevil suddenly finds Angel descending on him, attempting to seize him and literally carry him off like an eagle with a small fawn.

The trip will be short — because Warren intends to pour on a burst of speed, slam the gangster full-force into a far wall, and let him drop.

* * *

Quite abruptly Impulse appears by Raven's side, depositing an armful of confiscated weapons. When you can change in a split-second you don't have to worry about a screen or be left in want of a telephone booth.

"Merry Christmas!" he says, before making to charge back into things again.

He doesn't quite do so as quickly as he means to when things get a little messy on stage. Around stage? Wait, what exploded? Are those guts?!

Those big guys look like bad news however, and as the others home in on them Impulse moves again. It seems like most are converging on the Hellraisers. He'll continue running defense then, making sure everyone else is getting out without trampling each other or getting caught up in the fray.

* * *

As the demons on stage start to grow, Chase's eyes can only widen, and as one of them literally explodes, he wraps an arm around Akari and practically lifts her as he rushes her towards the exit.

"I don't really know what's going on, but this is no place for you right now, unless you're hiding some secret power I have no clue about. And even then, I'd probably STILL give yo the bum's rush out of here," he says to Akari.

With the door closing in distance, Chase glances back over his shoulder at the scene of chaos. "I'm getting you out, then I'm going back in. I have to see what I can do to help." He shakes his head again. "… or through inaction allow someone to come to harm," he mutters under his breath.

* * *

The trident-bearing Aquaman sinks the tips of his spear into the first blob of former huamn. The first tip tinks off the bones, and then the second sinks. The flying hero is rewarded with a full fist of pudgy strength right into the Prince of the Sea's face.

Two more giant monstrosities charge out into the crowd, one heading right for Dick and Dinah, only to be blasted by her scream. The blast staggers the first, forcing it to make several backward steps, and then it is blasted by the telekinetic boom from Psylocke. The second veers off its course, and ends up bull-slamming a head full of horns right at Daredevil as he battles some of the foot-soldiers of the demon-worshippers, and on the heels of Angel plucking one of those soldiers up in a soaring grasp.

Between Bart and Tony, the Hellraisers are soon weaponless and reacting in fierce anger. One tries to grab for Bart, fingers sliding through air.

* * *

Jason's grenade is picked up and held briefly in the thugs hands, the skull mask turns to face Jason in a true power move. The smile can't be seen but the mocking is clear in the moments before the explosion. Clearly he expects to be able to smother the blast harmlessly. Instead his arms are blown off and the elbow and a blood curdling scream filters through the skeltal teeth of the mask. Guess he should have read the fine print about the street drugs granting meta powers.

* * *

"Well that isn't something you see every day…" Stark mutters as he sees the figures on the stage start to shift and grow. One eyebrow angles up as he shifts stance slightly. A flicker of a smirk as he notices Kamala's sudden appearance. How Raven is already working to help, Bart delivering everything as the bullet fairy.

"Well. Now its a party."

The armor under his 'suit' is lighter than normal, but still. It is an Iron Man armored suit.

And this is Tony Stark. He knows little in the way being intimidated.

…and then suddenly Dazzler.

Gore everywhere and Stark quirks a brow. "And this is why it is hard to keep a steady drycleaner. CHASE!" He shouts over his shoulder. "Make yourself useful and get all the civvies out!"

Yes. He noticed the armor. And the light coming from Akari.

Stark though will plant one foot and raise a hand, palm up. The sudden /fweeeem/ of a repulsor blast aiming for dead center of one of the big guys.

And now there are Bat people. So much Gotham.

* * *

There are lights! There are sounds! This whole thing is near enough to a dance party that Starfire could almost enjoy it, despite her evening out being ruined!

Unfortunately, beneath the colorful and festive displays, the floor of the place is still chaos and carnage, and Kori has a job to do. She is bound to her charges, and thus, bound down to the ground alongside them. The behemoths, too, she ignores in favor of protecting the councilman. But it is slowly becoming an unbearable slog, the onrushing crowds of skull-masked gang members, the occasional shower of goo and gore, the sound of snapping bones drowned out by Dazzler and Dinah turning the battle into a rock concert.

But it seems she does have an angel looking out for her, of a quasi-literal variety. And when Warren sails away with the last of those guests still trapped near the doors? It is now her turn to join the light show.

To the councilman and entourage: "Please stand back."

To the enemies lined up before her: "You would be wise to move."

That is the last warning they receive, before she brings her hands together, her eyes glowing, and her hair undoing itself from the fancy updo seemingly of its own accord, as individual strands alight with their own fiery blazes. And then, a flood of green light and force, blasting toward those far doors.

SKREEEEEEEEEEEE.

What? She cannot let Dazzler have ALL the fun!

* * *

The blond screaming from earlier, held in the clutches of a wannabe-demon turned wannabe-hulk tries in vain to fight off her attacker with ineffectual tiny fists. Instead of delaying the attack it only seems to encourage the villain to start with the arms. Holding her in one oversized hand he reaches to start plucking off a wing to start when a repulsor ray slams into his chest sending him flying back and the poor woman of a certain age sailing through the air.

* * *

Ms. Marvel is taking to the stage, but not in the same way as karaoke night at Shakedown. She gets up on the stage, and there's that same short, compact guy standing there in his demon skull. He moves incredibly fast dodging smoothly out of her attempted fists, and Kamala takes out the stand-up bass instead. He ducks low, and grabs a strong fist around Kamala's wrist with bone-breaking strength. He grins a serious grin up at her. "Bad call."

Down in the pit of chaos, Starfire's blast of energy hits the unhulked demon worshippers, and they are slammed backwards, clearing the door entirely for Starfire and the Councilman to get through. There's still muttering from the man: "Shoulda listened, shouldn't have done this. She was right, she was right."

* * *

In many ways, she's afraid, still, to tap into the depths of the magical might sitting at the seat of her soul. Every time she attempts to attack, she can here the sickening crunch of Bart Allen's body falling, and Raven's tortured screams.

But Zatanna isn't the sort to do absolutely nothing, and fingers lift to sweep in front of her. Power thrums over her fingertips, shaking from within her human vessel, reaching desperately to get out.

She shakes her head. "Etativel!" she cries, and looking like an extra from a horror movie with her get up and the costume, the spell has her lifting upwards towards the high ceilings of the venue, one leg bent at the knee. Fully incognito, now, her hands spread out in front of her, ice-blue eyes growing a shade or two paler as she taps into her magic. Her voice echoes strangely:

"Nwod wols sretsgnag enob nomed!"

She is leaving the fists and melee beatdowns to those more capable of it, and like a true supportive party member, the mage of the group decides to lend her sorcery to the entire collective by slowing down all the enemies in the vicinity and give the good guys the necessary combat advantage to get beat down harder.

Eyes do take into account some other activity in the room, now that she's a little higher up.

…so typical of her reckless self, she lets herself drift out of the room to investigate, gradually landing on lightly on her feet in a rare patch of empty floor. Some people were being dragged out, weren't they?

But why? Where are they going?

* * *

Collision happens.

And in the wake of it, Dazzler… staggers.

There is remains, the only one left, covered head-to-toe in inhuman ichor, entrails, and gore.

She just… stands there for a beat. A ropey strand of intestine thwip-wip-wips off her head and plops wetly at her feet. This isn't… supposed to happen. This isn't what… normally happens.

I STILL LOVE YOU! announces Zatanna, similarly dripping.

Dazzler stares back. She takes a step, slips on a bit of entrail, and almost goes on her ass. She bleats back, reflexive, "I love you —" ohhh she's going to be sick, and briefly ducks behind the ruined half-bar to dry heave. And back! " — too!"

But it's not over —

"Get down!" she yelps, firing a low-level, concussive blast at Zatanna, measured enough to impact the magician and send her on a gory Crocodile Mile away from that table. Not enough to help them both — but Warren comes in, scooping her up.

And Dazzler just stares at him, pale-faced. In that moment together, she just bleats at him, voice so small: "Warren. I blew him up."

He sets her down, sighting others in the line of fire — "Careful," she urges after him, turning back to the fray —

And Dinah lets her birdsong go.

Dazzler feels it as much as she hears it. She goes still, shuddering, absorbing that sonic attack as it interacts with her field. Light consumes her, as she breathes through the sensation of it; the field burns the layer of gore off her, ashing away. "That's… nice."

And decides it for her. Seething with light, she turns on others engaging the rest of those things — assisting with her own directed, concussive punches of light.

* * *

Raven barely turns her head at the blur of red and white, brow lifting slightly at the noise. "Thanks— " She then looks down at the pile of weapons. "— Wait a minute."

But there is no waiting. There is screaming. And the screaming from another person (Dinah, in particular) doesn't help. At all. The cloak winces, immediately falling back on recollecting the mental barrier she's so good at holding up. It takes longer than it should, leaving no time for attack. She doesn't need to worry about that, however. The others seem to have it covered.

So support it is. Raven murmurs under a breath, twisting dark matter between her fingers as she casts shields around those who are fighting and the civilians still getting rerouted to the exits.

* * *

"Impulse! Catch that would ya!" Stark calls out as he stalks forwards towards the downed non-human, trusting the speedster to catch the woman wailing though the air even as he stalks forwards, repeatedly fweeming blasts to keep the oversized demon-gangster on the back foot.

* * *

"Oop!" Impulse rounds on the Hellraiser that had spotted him. He points up, and whether the guy looks or not, it might be difficult to track the blur of a punch that flies towards his face.

Jerking his head up as he hears Tony shout, the speedster locates Iron-Man and is off and running again to collect the poor woman flung in his direction.

* * *

Akari is being carried like a sack of potatoes. A black clad bag, but nevertheless.. carried. This is almost undignified for the doctor. Illuminating? No. No. That was Akari's thought about Dazzler's attack. Impressive in its own way, she at least able to make some sort of contribution. "I can see about getting people out of the building," she says, being hopefully set down at the door without any detours. Hopefully.

* * *

Clearly the superhumans have sort of stepped in to deal with the bigger threats which is fine. Let them punch in their own weight class. Jason Todd didn't have a sonic scream or a light blast or a pair of wings. He just had a bad temperament and the training it took to put other people in pain.

So, while they focus on the big monstrosities, he continues to pick off the lower tier gang members, jumping one from behind and throttling him to the ground, shooting another one directly in the nethers from point blank range and dropping him with a helmeted headbutt.

This was mayhem. This was chaos. This was violent spectacle and literally hell being raised.

To Jason Todd, this was -fun-.

* * *

Ow. Ow. OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW

Ms. Marvel shrieks in something between pain and anger. It's definitely both: this guy is not supposed to be stronger than her, and it's not supposed to HURT THAT MUCH. Her wrists are huge! Where's the leverage?

"Gonna play it like that, jerk?!" What was that?! Ms. Marvel cussing? …no. Not really, no.

"En…SMALLEN!"

And suddenly, Kamala's wrist just isn't there. Kamala HERSELF isn't there. Unless you count the plastic ninja-sized blue-and-red thing that's jumping from the Big Bad Stage Performer's hand to land on his shoulder.

* * *

In a clear moment, everything slows… this perhaps makes the results of yet another concussive shot from Dazzler results in the same explosion, but this time entirely in slow motion. Every tiny detail of the blast of gore and guts is presented to those watching in its terrible, disgusting slowness. The splits of skin are more audible as the sound waves equally slow; the break apart of guts, muscle, and bone.

It might actually be worse than the first explosion…

With the efforts of those in the pit, the lower levels are down… and all that remains is the bigs… and the guy who is now swatting at Kamala like she's a tiny, infuriating spider crawling along his shoulder.

* * *

Sometimes, being told to attend a party doesn't mean dressing up and getting socialize. More often than not for a SHIELD agent like May, it means wearing a garment that blends in without being too noteworthy and just hovering around the perimeter acting as a subtle security of sorts.

She's by no means the only SHIELD agent here, but she is one of the highest ranking, so when chaos breaks out she and another senior agent or two immediately start coordinating all of the SHIELD personnel on site. Most move to get civilians clear of the fight breaking out, others try to give the people with powers room to maneuver, and a scant few like May herself rush toward the fight to help.

This. THIS is why she hates high heels so much. There is NO way she could deal with this in heels. Pulling a pair of forearm-length blades from under the back of the business suit blazer she's wearing, she makes her way past the smaller attackers that have been put down quickly enough and toward the closest of the remaining big bads. She can't think of many things that can walk away from being filleted.

* * *

Chase Stevens looks to Akari, a warmer smile forming as he nods once. He sets her on her feet, a hand reaching out to briefly slide against her cheek. It holds there a moment, looking like he might kiss her…

But then there is Tony's call to Chase from out of the din. "On my way, Tony!!" comes the growling reply before he returns his gaze to Akari. "I'll be back… Hold the door."

Then Chase is back in the thick of it, dodging entrails and a variety of flying debris, hunting down the remaining civilians who have yet managed to get out. The ones hiding under or behind tables and curtains and the like. Trying to gather them and help them make a bee line for that exit.

* * *

«"Ms. Marvel, look out,"» says the calm, focused, confident voice of Red Robin (which is completely different than being Robin, obviously, Jason) over the Titans comms. It's not the same voice as Tim Drake, really. The differences are subtle, but they're there - they're important, a key part of the whole deal. Of course, since she's wearing a communicator he knows exactly where she is, his suit picking up the telemetry and giving him the relative positions of the rest of his team (and a few choice others who are easy to track, hi Tony) in his AR HUD.

Anyway the reason he says this is that about half a heartbeat later he drops out of the air at the guy trying to swat at a very tiny Ms. Marvel, both booted feet aimed right at his unfortunate head.

«"Talk to me, Titans. What's everyone's situation?"»

* * *

Orin removes his trident from the beast, making sure it STAYS by stomping HARD on it's face, but not before taking a pudgy fist to his own face. With a twist of his foot, he tries to kill the beast for good. a twirl of the trident again and the Sea King is looking around, wiping away gunk from his face…but he'll try and toss his mighty Trident with BURNING FORCE into one of the men who seem to be fleeing from the stage and into the ground. Come on, have good aim, have good aim!

It would be THE WORST day if he ended up hitting a civilian in the process.

* * *

Again, Dick kinda gets blind-grabbed from behind by Dinah. This time it's for pretty good reason, as he is fond of his eardrums. He instinctively ducks down a little as she unleashes that sonic blast, and even after all of that, it leaves his ears ringing a little. Normally, the earpieces for his mask and comms have decent sonic dampners to guard against flash-bangs and the like. This time, he's wearing lighter models for the public event. So its rare for him to get the full effect from the songbird up close and personal like that, and it stings.

"Ow. Good work, but ow."

With a finger prodding at his ear, he looks around momentarily, surveying the battlefield. There's a flash of light and accompanying sound that catches his attention, and this time it isn't Dazzler: he'd know that 'skree' SFX anywhere.

Once the ringing in his ears dies down a little, he answers, or rather joins in on the comm chatter: « "Star, you OK over there? I had her evac the councilman." »

* * *

«"Busy trying to keep the casualties at zero,"» Raven states almost flatly over the Titan comlink in her resonant tone of voice. It may be a little difficult to hear with all of the noise, but she continues. «"It's a little more complicated than I thought it would be, but I'm managing. As soon as the civilians are all clear I can resume focus on the others."»

* * *

After safely depositing the woman he'd caught back on her feet, Impulse turns to get another glimpse of what's been going on in the past several seconds he's been preoccupied.

«"Took care of most of the weapons I think"» he reports to Red Robin. «"Dance floor still looked crowded so I've been trying to help get people exitbound."»

* * *

She is presently not visible, but Zatanna is keeping tabs on her team. Her voice can be heard crackling through the comset of the Titans that are present:

«"Slowed down the bads, but I saw several of them yanking guests away and shuffling them to…a different room, maybe? I don't know, but I'm checking it out. I don't know if they're being kidnapped, held hostage or worse."»

* * *

With the exits now clear and open, there's a flood of people heading onto the terrace and through the emergency exits there. There's the sound of sirens blaring through the open windows, and it reminds the vigilantes and metahumans inside that more help — or trouble — is on the way.

* * *

Dinah releases Dick and lets the birdsong fade, rubbing at her throat and wincing. "Do I criticize *your* field decisions?" she asks Dick, feigning a tart tone. "No, I do not," she says, answering on his behalf.

"Don't get insecure, but your girlfriend's kinda hot," Dinah tells Grayson, as Kori lays down some hurt of her own with those powered blasts. She spots a gangster making a move, and taps Dick's shoulder twice and points at him soundlessly. For the moment Dinah's taking a breather, and wincingly reaches for the wound in her ribs that's bleeding slowly but quite steadily. She's starting to look a little pale.

* * *

Point of fact, this is not the first time Matt Murdock's world has exploded in the viscera and goo of mutated thugs. Indelibly imprinted in his memory was the raid on Wilson Fisk's private prison, where Bucky Barnes threw Luke Cage head-first into a mutated amalgamation of prison guards only for 'it' to… explode, all over the Defenders.

So it's happened before. But God knows he wasn't looking for it to happen again. Grateful as he is for Angel taking one of his combatants off his back, driven as he is to bludgeon his final remaining opponent unconscious with strike after strike of his escrima stick on the demon-helm of his enemy, he's still totally unprepared for the sheer, overwhelmingly DISGUSTING sensations that literally flood the room.

"God damnit!" the blind Catholic ninja in a devil suit fumes, face contorted and flecked with gore. With one more strike of his baton sends his opponent to his knees, and then the floor. Then he's looking for strays, stragglers and wounded, trying to get them to the makeshift exit.

* * *

« "This is Starfire. I am with the councilman and his escort, and have cleared their way to the exit. Once they are safe, I should be free to re-engage." »

With the starbolt-cleared road open before her, Kori now hustles the councilman and his entourage in that direction, getting them to the door as fast as she can. The mutterings from the man himself do bother her, although she usually leaves the mystery-unravelling to one of the many Robins. And since there happen to be two of them on the line:

« "The councilman seems to display… guilt. Though perhaps it is merely his reaction to these unfamiliar horrors." »

* * *

Jason Todd finished up with his share of thugs and stares up at one of the remaining Hulks. The better part of valor would be retreat, consider it a good day's work, be glad he can get away clean and steal someone else's intel to find out exactly what was happening in the first place.

Or he could just start shooting at the damn thing, picking up a reconfigured Tech-9 dropped by one of the street thugs and just starting to plug away at one of the things while reaching down to get his other grenade. He knew he should've packed more than two.

* * *

Luckily, Ms. Marvel's abilities aren't affected by INSANE NOISE or EXPLOSIONS. Long as no one sets off an EMP or douses her with water, she should be good.

Teensy tine-sy Kamala scuttles to the back of the weird crazy fellow's neck, bracing her feet and then growing her hands. Bigger, bigger! In a split second she's covering his face, trying to prevent him from being able to see. In another instant she's embiggening the rest of herself, using the sudden weight change against her opponent to drag him backward and maybe knock him down.

There's a voice in her earpiece. Red Robin? No, not Red Robin. Different Robin, she realizes. One of the other ones! Not Nightwing. She has an almost encyclopedic knowledge of vigilantes and heroes, and this one she remembers as — as… it's escaping her…

«"Trying to distract this guy. He's WAY strong!"»

* * *

Stark growls slightly as he angles in on one of the last hulks. His second hand comes up, both palm-blasters starting to glow a firey red. "You know. For the record. I hate demons!" He calls out as gore drips down his suit. Annoyance there on his face. "And the chianti was dissipointing!"

A burst of energy pulses from those blasts and angles into the closest hulk. The force of the blast takes the hulk back, knocking him several feet.

And then? Then Tony crosses the streams. Both blasts connecting in the demon-things center of mass before sending it flying back against the far wall where it craters in…

…and shatters in a mass of gore.

Stark winces. "…I'm sure he's fine."

A beatpause.

"I really dislike demons."

* * *

All that is seen on the stage is Kamala going for the big bad on the stage before he's lost behind an enbiggened Ms. Marvel. He collapses underneath her increased size, but there's a clear shift beneath her as the dude joins his hulked brothers. He's strong already, and this time redoubled that until he's able to nearly fling the poor Kamala free of him, off the stage. He tries to get to his feet, body still changing, shifting, moving under his own skin. He grabs for the edge of the stage, getting his massive frame up.

* * *

A pause.

"I really dislike /MOST/ demons."

* * *

"Hold the door, he says," Akari mutters, approaching where she has been deposited with a brief movement of shoes being kicked off. Really. There's always a better way about this entire exit thing. And it begins with a pair of door stops or wedges. "There better be emergency lighting in there.." But now, she's not the only one with the civilian escort duty in mind.

* * *

"Noted. Good shot, anyway." Dick is mostly good spirited, all the ringing aside. "Why would I get insecure about that?" he then wonders back at Dinah, grinning a little. "Anyway, I guess this explains what you were asking, y'know, about how we met. It was a lot like this, actually, except a little less horror movie, little more sci-fi." How else do superheroes meet?

« "Star, did you say he sounds guilty? RR, got any intel on the councilman himself? I admit I spent my time before the event mostly checking up on the guest list. Uh actually hold that thought." »

Yeah, there's an even bigger dude growing on stage. "Ready for another round, songbird?" Either way, he starts jogging forward, digging in his jacket as he moves.

* * *

May sees the one man out of everyone here that is using a pair of regular pistols instead of some manner of ability beyong human normal and angles toward him. Without slowing down, she ducks under his firing pistols and rushes at the hulking being, using the distraction (and likely more) being caused by the pistol rounds to slice at the thing's legs.

She knows she can't take this thing completely down like this, so she aims to do as much damage as possible, aiming for where she knows there are arteries, tendons, and major muscle groups.

And she hopes that these things have their tendons and such in the same places as humans as she continues past the hulk thing to put its bulk between her and Mr. Pistol.

* * *

As she moves, she's still coated with blood and guts - Dazzler's earlier move to push her out of danger had done just that, but it had also left her skidding a bloody wake across thefloor. Now it's everywhere, the stink of blood and innards wicking on her jacket. She drags her knuckles to wipe away a gory streak off her face as she moves down the hall and flings the doors open. It is disconcertingly silent.

What she finds, in the end, is a blood bath. Superpowered senses would pick it up, the wisps of that unmistakeable coppery tang, the carpet, furniture, the walls splashed with them. Bodies are strewn across the floor, stabbed, gunned down, or torn apart. Her stomach lurches against her bones as her senses swirl.

At twenty years old and after a lifetime of learning magic at her father's knee, she has seen some of the worst the world, and the other, has had to offer. She doesn't like it, but she can stomach it. But a year with the Titans is not enough to render her immune to the horrible things human beings do to each other. Old, young, middle aged, man, woman, it didn't matter - whoever the gangsters managed to grab, they slaughtered with extreme prejudice. She can already feel their restless spirits tugging at her hair, yanking at her bloodstained clothes. And from what she could see of the mangled faces, there is no pattern. It is brutally, utterly senseless.

"…no…" Zatanna says weakly.

* * *

Dinah shakes her head at Dick's question. Her lips are a pale, thin line. "I'm sorry, hun," she says, voice tight. "I think I'm losing too much blood." there's a fair, steady rivulet of it flowing down her leg and staining the ground underfoot. "But I think I know a guy. Cover me to the kitchen?" she requests, and breaks into a limping run as fast as terrain and pain allows her.

"Frank? Frank!"

She gets into the edge of the kitchen area, where she'd seen him last. "CASTLE!" she shouts, raising her voice a little to be heard over the ongoing melee. A stream of fairly creative Italian curses streams from her mouth. "I know you've got a medical kit stashed around here somewhere!" she hollers. "Get out here and play medic!" She grabs a towel and reaches awkwardly back to put pressure on the wound in her ribcage.

* * *

More explosions, more guts liberally decorating things. Impulse manages to evade the mess, but he can't vibrate an entire room to do the same. "Nice work Mister Stark," he says despite the consequences that come with being in the splash zone. As he scans the room again he brings a hand to his earpiece.

"«Zee? Where'd you go? You find those people?"»

* * *

It's one of those dangers of witty banter covering up the worst of… you know, the fairly horrible day to day job they do. It all sounds fun and cheerful until it's not.

Dick makes it a few steps before he realizes Dinah isn't behind him. He turns and sees her limping off. "Shit."

« "Change of plans, we've got wounded. Headed to the kitchens. Anyone close? Star, you're free to engage the big boy." »

* * *

She's strong, she's tough, she's using her leverage…

…and Kamala still gets thrown across the room. Crunch.

The little Inhuman falls in a crumpled heap, gasping for the breath that's been knocked out of her. She's lucky she can't see what Zatanna's seeing right now; instead, she's trying to get enough air in her lungs to speak into her comms.

«"…'kay, he's real strong," she manages in a croak that barely makes it to the comms. "Backup?"»

She coughs. It's a bubbly sort of cough. She can taste blood. «"Just give me… minute. 'M fine."»

* * *

And boy howdy, is he a big boy. He's almost tripled in size, bulking out until he's standing almost to the ceiling as he gets to his feet. His bone-covering is gone, not able to withstand the growth. Poor Matt is hit with another equally gruesome slam of scent before the monstrosity charges the gathering of heroes that are making their way for the stage. Before he gets too close, he takes both fists and slams them into the ground in a make-shift tremor.

Yeah, he's a big boy.

* * *

Chase Stevens gets the very last of the hiding civilians over to Akari, before he looks back over his shoulder. "I swear I thought I heard someone call for a medic…" he says before he looks back to her. "Kari, I think that's everyone. Now off with you. I'll find you, after all this is done," he says as he looks into her eyes and gives her a brief kiss on the lips. "Just in case I don't get that chance later," he notes before running towards the kitchen at better-than-human speed.

Once he arrives at the Kitchen, he spots Dinah, rushing to her side. A great, white knight looking superhero. "Dr. Chase Stevens, Metropolis General. Where are you hurt?" he asks, already beginning to look her over, and quite clinically.

* * *

There's a long silence before Zatanna patches through, quietly:

«"They're dead. All of them…don't…don't go in here. They tore them apart, the blood is everywhere. They just took them and…the police will have to…"»

Oh god, she's going to be sick. Nerveless fingers bunch up into a fist on the side of her.

And at hearing Kamala hurt, something snaps.

Her eyes burn; she thinks they're tears, but they are not. It is light - white-hot and spilling from the confines of her domino mask. Slowly, she turns around and levers her stare towards where the rest of the fighting is happening.

«"Red, I'll help Starfire. Go back up Nightwing."»

* * *

Jason Todd doesn't know May from anybody, but they're both well-trained, disciplined, skilled. He provides her cover as she moves in. His shots may not do much but pester the thing, but they at least get its attention, aimied at eyes and sensitive regions and generally just making a heck of a lot of noise (although, given Dinah's recent efforts, it might seem dim by comparison).

He flicks the other grenade up, aiming high to keep it out of May's path. He doesn't have anybody to kill. He doesn't have anybody to save. He just has somebody to kill and, for the moment, that's enough.

* * *

There is a narrowed eye from Stark as Kamala gets thrown across the room. That is /his/ intern goddamit! Only he can get her thrown across rooms!

"JARVIS."

"Sir?"

"Someone came to the party a little over dressed and is making me look bad. Send something appropriate over would ya?"

"Already on its way, sir."

There is a vicious, angry grin as he stalks to stalk forwards, head craning up at the huge figure that collapsed the stage. Both palms snap up as the full power of the light armor is brought to bear. The chest beam screaming into life as throws that burning beam of energy towards the things chest.

He's very tired of being subtle.

MEANWHILE! OUTSIDE! A streak of something cuts though the night sky as JARVIS' gift bag approaches.

* * *

Despair. Pain. The nausea and anguish Zatanna feels flows through her words over the link. The agony Ms. Marvel feels while fighting a larger opponent. It all reaches Raven, who moves as fast as she can through all of the invisible weight dragging her down.

«"I'll go to aid Ms. Marvel,"» she reports to Red Robin and the others, keeping her cool as she goes. If not to help fight, then to heal her fellow teammate before her injuries get worse.

* * *

«"What..?"»

Impulse goes still as he strains to hear Zatanna's report. He swallows, brows knitting behind his yellow goggles. «"Why would they…"»

These people came and shot guests and then…what? What were they trying to do here?

Things hadn't gone off without their own side taking hits either, by the sounds of it, by the looks of things.

There's still at least one big guy to go, too. The ground shakes as the behemoth's fists impact the floor, but the moment the initial tremor passes, Impulse moves, dashing towards the stage. Distraction time. He'll see if he can give the others a better shot at the thing while he tries to keep the big lug busy.

* * *

« "Understood. I am returning, Ms. Marvel." »

True to her word, freed of her civillian charges, and on Dick's orders to freely engage, Starfire comes back in blazing. As in, on fire. Or her hair, anyway. Now unrestrained, she flies at full speed, her hairdo by now having come totally undone and trailing behind her in a long, burning trail. With her fists outheld before her, she asks no questions and makes no threats toward the growing target, merely unleasing blasts of star-fueled energy against it. Again, and again.

Of course, full of her Tamaranean battle-lust (the least fun of the various categories of Tamaranean lust), she's not even content to restrain herself to that, to fly and harry the creature. Maybe this would even be the wiser thing, with her speed and flight and range. But no.

Her starbolt charge becomes a traditional one, flying in to pummel the creature after (in her theory, anyway) softening it up with a few blasts.

* * *

May watches the man pester the hulk thing and clearly taking her presence into account. He's clearly well trained, but she doens't recognize him. There's no time to deal with that now.

She waits for the grenade, and the second after it goes off she charges in again, this time moving to hamstring the hulk-thing. Once it's down, she can at least try to decapitate it.

And the Agent in charge of this detail tried to convince her she's not need her usual accoutrement. Fool.

* * *

Warren. I blew him up.

"Yes you did," Warren observes.

Not a few moments later, she blows another one up.

One of the benefits of being an airborne combatant, at the least, is avoiding most of that splash. When Angel touches back down beside Alison, his clothes are still mostly pristine, though there is a bit of splatter on his wings. Spreading the pinions, he gives them a sharp flick to sling off most of the stray gore, before folding them neatly back up.

The sound of sirens approaching draws his attention. "Anyone who doesn't want to be talking to police better wrap it up," he says, though he's probably more thinking about unregistered conscientious objectors than outright criminals. He's already heading towards the sound like he's intent to funnel that particular complication himself before a bunch of cops with itching trigger fingers flood in while mop-up is still going on.

* * *

Dinah goggles at the hulking White Knight storming up towards her, jaw dropping a bit. She'd vaguely seen him moving around, but… that is a lot of sheer human mass to come galloping up on a girl, let alone one who says 'Hi, I'm a doctor'.

"Okay, I think the blood loss is getting to me," she admits, shaking her head. It's not hard to miss the deep puncture wound in her sixth intercostal space, a few centimenters back and bleeding slowly but steadily. It's fortunately not a major arterial bleed, or she'd already have been dead. At least where they're at in the remains of the catering station, there's some cover from the flying energy blasts, explosions, and the calamitous explosions of Tony summoning the physical manifestation of his own ego.

* * *

The hulking boss is being totally distracted by a sudden nuisance that is none other than Impulse. He reaches for him, slapping at the air and almost gives his own nose a slam before he's turning sharply. This time he's turned to Starfire, and the only option the beast has is to fling an entire table at the alien woman. This is only moments before he's hit, full-force, with Tony's twin-palm slam that staggers him backwards, and he's grabbing onto a light fixture above to steady himself. It can't take his weight, snapping, and causing the behemoth to stagger a bit more.

* * *

Dick has followed after Dinah, and may react with a touch of unsurprising skeptisim when the World's Tallest Doctor appears. Then again, he's dating a woman with close to a foot on him, so maybe he's a little more lenient where it comes to the height department. "I'm with the police," he declares, even fishing out his badge from his tux jacket (his hand may have been on a birdarang for a second, just in case). "Detective Grayson. Got a bit mixed up with… whoever those people are out there, and she took a nasty hit."

For now, he plays low key normy, although he remains alert, especially given all the chatter on the Titans comms. This whole thing has a sinister ring to it, and he's not sure there isn't another shoe left to drop on the whole thing.

* * *

«"I just need a minute…"»

Kamala's just… going to lie down for a moment here. She's allowed. One hand reaches to her chest — ugh. Okay, that rib shouldn't be doing that. It's going to take some rest and, in the morning, a really big breakfast to get back to normal. But as long as she just stays her same shape, she'll keep healing. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, she realizes that's an incredibly bad idea and slumps back down again.

«"I doubt he can do that forever,"» she murmurs. Her breath is still a little bubbly and wheezy, but at least her voice is stronger. «"Otherwise he would have hulked out earlier. Get him out've here, away from more people he can hurt. Starfire, can you fly him out? Maybe dunk him in the bay to cool him off?"»

* * *

Chase Stevens starts to reach for Dinah, before quickly realizing that gauntleted hands aren't going to be much help. "Hang on a second. I just need to figure out how to " he starts, before the armor he's residing in seems to slide and melt away back inside of him, revealing the tuxedo he was wearing underneath. " turn the armor off," he finishes with a shake of his head.

He looks around a moment about the Kitchen. The place is a mess. Everything is a mess. The closest thing to clean is his tuxedo, that's been hidden under armor for the most of the battle. He quickly takes off the coat and tails, laying them over an arm. "We need to keep you warm to keep you from going into shock, and apply some gentle pressure to that wound. I would recommend lying down," he says, reaching up to tear off his cumberbund, discarding it.

It looks like he's just about to tear off a sleeve, when Dick Grayson approaches. "Detective. Forgive me for giving orders, but I need a medical or a first aid kit, and someone to call an ambulance." He then looks back to Dinah, offering a smile. "You're going to be fine. We just need to get you patched up."

* * *

Mangled. It's not just murder— it's not even butchery. The blood sacrifice has the air of something far more chaotic than such would imply. Bleeding from the head and trying to lock down a /source/ for the mayhem that is not immediately apparent— or perhaps immediately localized— John Constantine didn't get to the gallery in time to save anyone. Just in time to take reprisal on that wave of cultlike gang-killers.

It's not a satisfying thing, even with the Hellraisers scorched and sundered around them, all but indistinguishable from their victims without closer analysis. The warlock takes a chunk of that appropriated bone and drops it into his pocket— don't ask him how he got it. Or about the vial of blood. A touch dazed, John pushes back through the doors no one is supposed to use in the -other- direction, and turns the corner into the kitchens, operating on instinct as much as navigation.

Which is probably why he blinks a few times at the assemblage around the injured Dinah. "This bollocks." Right? Who's with him. This is a shit party. "You alright with this lot, D?" 'Better them than you, John'. But he has to check— even if it's with the air of a man with somewhere /else/ to be.

* * *

*WHAM*

Starfire's aerial attack run is interrupted by a piece of furniture. And unfortunately, he went for a pretty hefty, heavy-duty catering table. A small one might snap on the alien warrior woman, but this one hits with a sort of dull metal-and-bone ringing THUD, one that halts Kori's momentum and leaves her to drop, dazed, onto the stage and beneath the metal weight. The table pile lays there a few moments.

Theres a little static over the comm.

« CRRRZZTT "… can lift him, if I can get close enough to secure a grasp. One moment." »

The table now rises, and the orange-skinned woman re-emerges beneath it, looking a bit disheveled, her fancy dress strategically ripped, and her… greatly annoyed. She continues to chuck the object right back at the hulking creature, more out of spite than anything, and then launches forward again.

This time she is less reckless, however, awaiting the blasts from the robot-man and then unleashing her own from another angle, still as cover as she charges in, trying to barrel into the creature and remove it as Kamala requested!

* * *

The front doors boom open as a metal object streaks in, unfolding in flight even as it slams into the back of one Tony Stark. Metal unfolds over the man, encasing him as his repulsor systems shut off. The quick activation sliding plates of armor across his form. It adds several feet to his height this time, the bulk of the suit buckling the floor slightly. It wraps over his torso, the ARC reactor blazing to life in the center of the chest. The full suit angling its faceplate up as the eyes blaze with power.

"Alright, slim." He growls.

"Hey! Glowbug!" This towards Starfire. "Think you can help take this dance outside?" He calls out as he closes to pair with Starfire to help take this thing outside and away from civilian casualties.

* * *

«"Hold on,"» Raven urges Kamala, finally turning up into the area she's currently slumped.

The feathered ends of her cloak drift behind her as she reaches the poor girl, touching down to kneel at her side. The blank white of her eyes look over her wounds, her brow knitting as she begins to feel it as well.

Her hands rise, hovering over her teammate as dark blotches form. "Stay still and let me work. I'll try to be quick." Not Impulse-quick, but fast enough to begin incantations and let the healing do what it needs to do. Take away pain, mend what needs mending.

It burns, but she shows nothing, the lower half of her hooded face like stone with every second that passes.

* * *

Dinah tries to argue with the hulking doctor, but— she's starting to feel a little woozy. "Fine. Just make it fast," she gets out, voice strained. She flinches a little at another explosion from the dining area, and with a seeting irritation tries to lower herself to the ground. It ends up turning into a pratfall. Dinah's tough, resourceful, and dedicated, but she's only human. There's only so far that mental discipline can go to overcome blood loss.

She tries to make the collapse graceful, leaning on Dick's hand for some assistance. Her brows rise when John addresses her, and she looks from the dark-haired detective to the giant of a physician.

Then back to John. "Yeah, uh… y'know, I think I'm good," she says, with a wry, tense tone of voice. It's not like the two men are hard on the eyes, anyway, and who doesn't like a little concerned attention when they're on the verge of collapsing due to blood loss?

* * *

"LLITS DLOH!"

The command is sharp and pierces the air, warps the world as reality bends to Zatanna's whims. The words are directed to the last terror rampaging in the venue, and with sirens wailing outside, they're running out of time. With those syllables, she attempts to render the last one still and unmoving, anger and sorrow fueling her magic as she wills it, in an overpowering way, to submit.

And hopefully give Iron Man and Starfire the pause they need to grab onto the thing and eject it away from the venue before they can cause too much damage.

* * *

The enormous behemoth continues to thrash about, trying to take out Bart the annoying while also doing incredible amounts of damage to the actual venue. The sirens are getting louder, and the carnage around the vigilantes and heroes is going to be hard to explain. But the man-turned monster is the worst of it at the moment.

He scrapes off a speaker, and hurls it toward Tony Stark with a crackle of energy. He's just getting angrier. Plus, Tony is a much shinier target now.

* * *

His job done, Impulse zips out of the way as Tony and Starfire move in to deal with the monstrosity. He dances back, giving plenty of clearance for the others to move the target out.

Only then does he get a better look of just how much collateral damage was done in the process. He winces a little at that, thankful that at least it was clear of people at the time.

* * *

"I've already radio'd for assistance, w've got uniform backup and medical en route," Dick tells Chase. It is partly true and partly… definitely not. Obviously with all the police at the event, the authorities have been notified and all sorts of help is on its way. However, Dick obviously didn't, and isn't going to actually call EMTs directly to Dinah's position and make her deal with the paperwork and questions the authorities might have for her, not when they have, on top of various people trained in first aid, a couple of real-life magicians and healer-y empath on the roster.

And hey look, here's one of them now.

"Quite a mess, isn't it?" he echoes back at John. "How do things look outside? You got a handle on what's happening here? This one got a bit banged up." There's a questioning look there, too.

When Dinah leans in on him, he does his best to prop her up. "Hang in there, you're gonna be alright." Then he checks in on the radio. Just not the police one. « "How's the situation? I'm in here with wounded still, though we found a doctor."

* * *

This is about when Barbara Gordon emerges into view on this half of the kitchen, having heard their voices from her spot back near the enormous walk-in fridges. She's limping on bare feet, and her hair has lots its graceful shaped waves.

If you want to talk about really having a shit night, the redhead's dress is torn at the hems and slit, bloodied, and she is bruised and cut the same. There's the thick red marks of where someone tried to take a garrote to her — kitchen twine is an amazing thing.

She spots the group, and immediately hastens her steps to them. Her blue eyes sweep John immediately, catching each sign of carnage; their eyes meet briefly and there's a quiet communication carried there. I'm alright is the shorthand. Then she's dropping onto her knees beside Dinah with her hand on Dick's shoulder as a brace.

"Di?" her voice croaks, roughtened by the attempt one of the Hellraiser's took to crush her windpipe.

* * *

Dang it. She's not the one who's supposed to need help! Ms. Marvel is supposed to help other people. The downtrodden. The defenseless. The people getting tables thrown at them.

Raven's beside her now, though, and the dark little angel is doing her work. (That's right! SnazzyTitanFan mentioned Raven's healing ability in the third fic of her series! She healed Tim with a kiss. …She probably didn't really do that, but she CAN heal people.)

"'Kay," she says. And now that she has her breath back, she's checking in on the rest of her pals.

«"Oracle?"» In case the Bird channel is up. «"Canary? Are you okay, girl?"»

Switching back to the Titans then: «"Zee? Are you okay? Starfire. I'll join you soon as I can."»

And finally… twiddle twiddle twiddle…

«"Boss? Light 'im up. I'll catch up."»

To Raven at last, she reaches out: "Are you okay? You look… better than a lot of us."

* * *

There are many different types of Iron Man suits that Tony Stark has made. One of them was the so called 'Heartbreaker'. An artillery level suit. One developed to take on armored vehicles and other suits of even power.

This one is that after about thirty different iteritations.

A bright repulsor beam cuts though the speaker before Stark catches the halves. "That's IT. Stop messing with the sound systems!"

And then he rushes it, repulsor jets igniting to hurl himself at the much larger opponent.

* * *

May helps Jason take down the one disgusting creature they'd been poking at and she looks around just in time to see Stark break out the truly heavy artillery. Moving both gore-covered blades to one hand, she reaches for her comm link in one ear with the other. "Get everyone away from the building. I repeat, AWAY from the building."

She doesn't have a moment's hesitation about leaving Jason to depart unnoticed as she spots the two young women — one wearing a dark, hooded cloak, the other possibly injured — seemingly huddled over by a wall. She makes her away around toward them as quickly as possible. This is about to get even more messy.

* * *

How do things look outside? "Like a goddamn fucking mess, Grayson. Giant one still thrashing out there but there's a legit coalition going to town as we speak." John shrugs one shoulder, pacing towards the trio to get a better picture of what's going on— and how badly Dinah is hurt.

Magic has a price, and he's about halfway to asking Dick and the Canary if they'd like to shoulder it when Barbara reappears, torn to shit herself. The warlock's frown becomes bigger, so much bigger. "Great. Doctor Giganto without even a tiny medical bag." Because it's Chase's fault he didn't come to this party prepared to treat trauma.

John does his part and looks around the kitchen— because it's a /commercial kitchen/ people— and what would you know. Luck brings him a basic first aid kit— it's a start. This is tossed in a slow arc towards the doc, -mostly- accurately, and John wipes a line of blood from his eyeline. "We going to need— /real/ bloody medicine?" It doesn't mean what it means to most people. John asks it while dropping a hand to Barbara's shoulder. Carefully.

* * *

Chase Stevens looks back to Dick and nods once, helping Dinah from the other side in gracefully slumping down. He then uses his tuzedo coat to cover her legs. "This is to try and stave off shock," he notes, before tearing off a clean, white sleeve of his dress shirt, folding it and placing it against Dinah's wound and applying gentle, firm pressure. "This will slow the bleeding," he notes before looking up at Dick. "I can stay with her as long as you need me," he says, sensing something amiss but not being able to put any sort of finger on it. Only that he's needed here, to save a life, and that overrides just about everything.

* * *

The one thing that this particular Hulk has in common with its green look-alike is the rage. Fury captures its very being, and while being tormented and distracted by Bart who is quite annoying is only just one layer, you add in a flying Iron Man and then the anger really redoubles. It lunges toward Bart, almost catching the speedster with its hands, clawing air toward its jaws like it's trying to eat Bart.

Instead, it catches Tony Stark in its desperate clawing for something and Iron Man is dragged close enough to feet hot, very STINKY jaws close at his hip. But it isn't enough to actually get purchase and Stark is released while the monster stumbles forward a bit more.

* * *

Dinah opens one eye and squints up at Barbara. "I got *stabbed*," she says. Protest rings in her voice, as if she can blame the entirely random act of violence entirely on Barbara for some reason. She glances at the redhead's bare feet, then back at her face. The Birbs of Prey line chatters in her ear and she winces. "Christ. No, I got *stabbed*," she repeats, in the same tone of voice, but for Kamala's benefit.

She looks from Barbara to Dick, then back to Babs. "Go. I'm fine," she murmurs sleepily, and haggardly waves the two of them off. "Doctor Beefcake here can take care of me. Go take care of John 'n Kory," she slurs. "Don't let your magician do any evil hocus pocus at me!" she tells Barbara with a little more force to her voice.

"And if I die, delete my browser history!" she adds, insistently.

* * *

Zatanna's voice can be heard through the Titans' comm in response to Nightwing. It's as if he was never shifted to alumnus status! <"Impulse, Raven, Starfire and Iron Man are engaging the last one. Should be done in a few seconds but the cops are here, you can probably blend in but us costumed kids probably can't stay for very ong.">

* * *

Perhaps she does look tired, to a certain extent. She's been through a lot. Especially nowadays, to be honest. But Raven has been pretty persistent in trying to help others, just as much as Kamala has been doing on her own time.

Her answer is delayed as she finishes up her work, making sure that the girl is mostly healed from the grievous injuries she acquired. To that question, Raven offers something that may have been a smile. "I've had worse days."

As for any other com chatter, she picks up on it. «"Yes. I can lend a hand in healing if it's still needed,"» she replies to Grayson, adding onto Zatanna's thought.

* * *

There is definitely a touch of relief when Barbara makes her appearance after John's, confirming the position of one more dear friend swept up in the chaos of all of this. One of the hazzards of working with a bunch of friends, family, and ex-girlfriends, is that it's real easy for the toll to get personall. "You OK?"

Then it's back to the discussion of Dinah, which may involve a fair bit of ignoring the actual Dinah's input on the situation, such as it is!

"She's lost blood, mostly," Dick explains, to John more than the Doctor (or one would think?), although the conversation may seem just a little odd to Chase. But nevermind that. "If the Doc thinks she'll be stable, I can get her to transport, it'll be faster than a civillian bus on the West Side at this hour anyway. Otherwise-"

« "Raven? What's the situation with Ms. Marvel? Zatanna?" »

* * *

Ironic how the distractor got distracted, but those who know Impulse can figure it's not exactly unusual. In looking for the rest of his team and taking stock of what's been happening with the remaining he neglects to keep track of the giant Hellraiser whom he thought was being handled.

"-hocrap!" he yelps, turning at the last second as he catches the movement out of his peripheral.

* * *

John has a first aid kit being delivered, and then a hand gently set on her shoulder. She barely catches her breath at the touch — and it is ragged — looking away from Dinah to look up at John. She touches his hand gently in a passing grace, and then she's slowly grabbing him by the wrist and fingers of the Magician to pull herself upright.

"I'm alright," Barbara rasps out, voice stricken by the tightness. She turns to John. "Police are coming. We need to get out of here." There's nothing alluring about the depth of that hoarse voice, sorry. She just sounds like she's been screaming at a concert for several hours nonstop.

"Dick, there's eight guys back there." Her head gestures. "I did what I could to clear all the weapons from the crime scene." Which mostly means the knife that Frank was using, and her scatterings of batarangs.

* * *

«"Oh! Oh NO. Where are you?!"»

Kamala reaches out to catch Raven's hand before she goes too far: "In the kitchens. I think. Blonde lady, got stabbed. She doesn't heal by herself; she needs you more than I do. Please, go!"

Beat.

"AND THANK YOU! Do you have a way out of here that doesn't involve the police?"

* * *

"I am not a bug," Starfire fires back at Tony with a mild sense of indignance. It is very obviously the case, that she is an unusually tall, unusually beautiful, and unusually orange… woman. Also with the glowing green eyes crackling with energy. Still, at least a few of these things Tony should be familiar enough with to not make the error!

That momentary bit of pique aside, she is quite happy to have all the assistance that is on offer in dealing with this creature: from Zatanna's magic slowing its dangerous movements to Bart zipping around to help… well, somehow, it's always too fast for her to see, but she knows he is there, in that little blur, doing good! And then of course there is the man with the suit of not-actually iron!

With the distractions of the others, Starfire fires one last blast at it's head to disorient the creature and then charges in, ignoring further starbolts and throwing all of her solar-fueled power into her forward momentum, her hair - or the fiery portion of it - somehow getting longer and longer the faster she goes.

Her tattered-dress clad alien form crashes into the odd amalgam monster with all her might and she wraps her arms around its much larger single limb, the initial impact pushing forward and the subsequent grip dragging it out.

She aims for a window, if one is convenient, but otherwise a wall will do. They are not so sturdy.

* * *

As she goes to stand, Raven finds herself being pulled back by Kamala. Oh, she's being told where they are. That's a good thing. "Thank you," she says in return, nodding as she drifts back. "And I do. I can always open a portal back to the headquarters if we need to."

'We.' She really is thinking about the others. But back to what needs to be done.

«"She's doing better now,"» Raven now replies to Dick as she makes her way over. «"I was able to heal most of her injuries, but I'll see how far I can get with the others before we have to clear out."r

* * *

« "If you have the strength to do it, we have an injury back here. She could either use help, or a fast transport. You up for that, Raven?" »

What? Does Dick not want to put Dinah into the clutches of John and his mysterious 'prices'? No. Somehow, he trusts even the Demon Daughter a little more. With that his attention turns back to Barbara, and he glances just a little past her toward where she's left the bad guys… in whatever condition they may be. "Alright. I guess I'm staying to do interference. Either Raven will take her, or if she can't manage it, I'll let you guys handle the transport. No… whatever it is you do, unless she absolutely needs it, OK?" Dick heard what Dinah said, though he's also willing to bend her wishes just a /wee/ bit, if it means her life. Sorry, songbird.

* * *

A tiny little burst of hololight appears in front of Kamala.

<Just get outta here kid, I can take care of the cops>

…so yes. Your boss does know you're here Kamala.

Multitasking though is what he does best, even as he's fighting a giant. He launches himself forwards just in time to see Impulse there. "Hell no," The man growls as he flings himself in the way of one hand. He can feel armor cave slightly under the bite. "OH MY GOD DON'T SLOBBER ON MY ARMOR!"

And he slams one metal fist into the monster's face. Repeatedly. It makes him feel better.

When it lets go though Starfire is calling to him and he just grins. "My mistake. You are /totally/ not a bug. A bug would never look that good in a dress." He adds with a laugh. "Now aim for the window!"

And he grabs the thing by the other side to assist in the hauling. And to ejecting it into a river. Or at least the atmosphere where between an Iron Man suit and a Orange Princess there hopefully won't be much left of the thing.

* * *

May makes it to where Kamala and Raven are just in time to hear the former's words and to see the hooded woman leave. So, she stays by the almost painfully young-looking Ms. Marvel. "Come on, we need to move." She's seen the kind of mess Stark can make with those suits of his. She doesn't want to be anywhere near this.

* * *

«"You can transport her to Five Pentacles if there's no time to heal her, Raven,"» Zatanna offers in the tail-end of Nightwing's suggestions. «"In Greenwich Village. The woman who runs it is an old friend, her name's Ginny. Tell her I sent you, you can see to her there."»

* * *

"Yeah. Bloody brilliant." Everyone's injuries, Barbara's insistance she's just fine, Dinah's ever-so-charming 'I'd rather die!!'— the whole horrifying party in general. Take your pick, John's not selective. The warnings, the radio calls, the Hellblazer takes a moment to just /look/ from Dinah to Grayson, somewhere between glassy and withering, and then softens to something closer to stoicism looking askance at Babs.
"Let's get the fuck out of here, then." He doesn't argue his own options next to the Plan in Place— he just makes a side offer and runs with it. Barbara can be as diplomatic as she wants to be with half a voice, because Constantine doesn't want to be much of it with the splitting in his skull. And 'the hell out of here' seems like a good place to get.

* * *

The first signs of police are coming. There are SWAT in riot gear starting to come in through the entrance, wading through the bodies left behind there by both ganger and magician rage. It's going to get harder to get to exits, but the group is resourceful. There's calls coming: NYPD, no body move!

* * *

By Starfire and Tony Stark's grip, the monstrosity is hauled up. It's fight is slow and stunned, kicking out weakly toward the offenders. Zatanna's calming spell is working to also diminish some of its hold, and the skin starts to pink back to something more human. But he isn't shrinking. No, there's movement under his skin, crawling writhing movement, like something is trying to get out.

* * *

Okay. She's bruised and aching but her ribs (she checks again) are fine! Fine! Slowly Ms. Marvel rises, narrowing her eyes at the big nasty Hellraiser and rolling up her sleeves. "Okay. Subtlety out the window. You're gonna go DOWN."

Praise be, Tony and Starfire and the rest are taking her idea and not just running with it but FLYING with it. She's about to pop into a NEW AND MORE POWERFUL FORM when first a little holo-sprite appears in front of her and tells her, in Tony's voice, to skedaddle. "HEY," she says, "I'm not on the clock right now! You don't own me!" And she shakes her fist at the little light.

But then Agent May is standing in front of her, and while Kamala doesn't know her at all, the lady does seem to be the kind of person one follows. Her initial instinct is, frankly, to turn into a really big Charizard and chase the hulking creep, but… Kory and Tony have got this, and she's really hurting, and —

"Lead on," she replies. And she WILL follow Agent May. Grumbling about it a little, but mostly internally.

* * *

The bit of panic is hard to ignore as she talks a bit more quickly to the un-costumed Nightwing. "Dick… Frank Castle was here, but he helped. He helped me. Please make sure they don't get a whiff of him, okay?" She hates putting this on his shoulders, and knows he will be giving her hell for it later. But she's got those blue eyes meeting Dick's, and her expression is one of worry.

Of course, she missed the whole thing with Jason Todd giving Frank a gun, which may be the wrong thing for someone to surveil. Good thing Zatanna killed the security cameras… but that was after that exchange, wasn't it?

Only once she's sure that Dinah is in good hands does she let the magician take the lead. Her fingers twine with his, using him to get to her feet. Then she's stepping in closer to him and murmurs something to John close to his shoulder.

* * *

Right when Constantine replies to Dick's decision, Raven enters like the tangible shadow she is. She can feel the tension, but they at least come to an understanding of some sort.

And there's the sound of voices. "…I may need to take Zatanna's suggestion," she rasps, cool and calm despite how hectic things have been. Looking between the two men, and then Dinah, she then glances over at Dick again. "I can still take care of the transportation."

Transportation as in portal mode, yes. Once it opens up at Greenwich, the daughter of darkness will abscond with the injured, letting the portal disappear behind her.

* * *

"Thank you. My name is Princess Koriand'r of Tamaran, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Iron Man."

Evidently, she isn't too worried in keeping up with the secret nonsense while in the process of pair-carrying a giant demon-thing out over the river… and possibly into space? Evidently going into space together warrants a proper introduction.

However, as perfectly keen as she might be on the ideas of tossing the dude into the void, the fact that it starts… reverting, at least to some degree, gives her pause. Well, mental pause. At the moment, she's still flying up, because that… wiggling is a little bit worrisome. "Do you know anything about this individual? I know your world shows great preference to mercy, and if it is possible he might be restored from this condition, that would be preferable."

Then a bit of a meaningful pause.

"However, if it is not possible, perhaps the greatest kindness would be in ending this sad condition."

* * *

"Whoa! Mister Stark-?!" Impulse watches the man get crunched in his place as the big creature tries to lash out before its hauled out. It's only mildly relieving to hear the billionaire continue to shout. He…should be okay right?

But it looks like that's the cue for everyone to get scarce, and Impulse moves to do so himself- although not without rounding up some of the weapons he'd confiscated earlier. Better make sure Tony's in one piece still. And the rest of his team, although he trusts they've got things covered.

* * *

And to give the rest of her team members time to get away…

"Oh my god, it was terrible! The gangsters were everywhere and…and…this is an Alaia and it's ruined."

There goes Zatanna, causing a scene and turning up waterworks, throwing herself on a couple of NYPD officers and dressed back in her evening glam, throwing dramatic hysterics.

"And you know the worst part of my evening was?" she weeps. "I didn't get to goose Matt Murdock!"

* * *

"I saw him. I was just coming to tell you, when this all broke out," Dick starts to answer Barbara, while they wait upon Raven's appearance. "Obviously he was here to… help, in whatever way of his, so I'll do what I can, Babs. I don't know what kind of evidence there might be." His influence with the NYPD isn't precisely the same as the sway the Waynes may have over things in Gotham. Here, he's merely his rank.

Still, the offer is made, and then he stands to wait until Raven finally appears. Her shadowy presence is disturbing in its own way, there's no denying. But in this case, it's the devil he knows. "Rest of you, get out of here."

And with that, and the sound of the SWAT teams coming in, he prepares to exit. He's still got his badge from showing Chase, but he makes sure to hold it out as he makes his way toward the doors, shouting ahead per procedure. "NYPD officer coming out!"

* * *

"Pleasure, Tony Stark. Call me Tony, it is a lot easier to shout that across a fight than anything else." The man though peers at his 'passanger' as /something/ is going on with it. "JARVIS?"

A tiny drone seems to be wizzing along with them. Giving the big thing a scan.

"No hint of full possession, sir. It isn't a demon. It seems to be…pharmacological in origin and something else…"

"Great. Alright Kori!" Cause he'll totally shorten that. "I'm gonna try to freeze him and if that doesn't work we might have to try something more drastic. JARVIS! Cryo protocols would ya?"

And more drones seem to swarm up, trying to do just that. Seeing if a cryofreeze in mid air will work on this thing.

* * *

May nods to Ms. Marvel and starts leading the way out, but then hesitates as she sees the sheer amount of police presence. She looks at Kamala, then at the flashing lights. "Are you registered in New York?" she asks the young woman.

She takes the moment to look around, then give up on finding anything clean enough to wipe off her butterfly swords and just keeps them in her hand.

* * *

John's answer to Barbara's whisper is a nod, and a muttered, "No bloody shit." He's not as dumb as he looks, remember? The warlock passes a glance over his shoulder to those disappearing through Raven's portal, drawing an unsteady breath, and turns instead to one of the side doors off the kitchen. It's not an exit, but it's away from the path of the police.

Constantine drags a finger through the blood leaking from his skull, draws a sigil in it across the mechanism, and opens the door to somewhere else. The two of them don't pass through the other side within the posh, putrified Pier, the drawn sign consumed with the apparently one-way transit, and the doorway once more opens to the cold storage hallway.

* * *

This is a whole new definition of take a chill. When the drones flutter in around the barely thrashing monstrosity, it takes one last swipe at something, anything, and then the blasts of cryofreeze does its work. He's human — ish. If the cryofreeze works on a human, it works on him. It slows him, taking him into a calm that is just rage trapped beneath slowly forming ice.

As the two heave him up, he's left to just slowly ice until his body is still, trapped midway between transformation behind the thick sheet of ice.

* * *

That's… about the moment that a cold lump forms in Kamala's stomach.

"I…" She's nineteen. She sounds about twelve in that moment. She looks about twelve in that moment.

"…it's not compulsory 'till March," she says. A little defensively. Then: "Who are you? You don't look like NYPD." They don't generally go in for butterfly swords. "A — are you with SHIELD?" The blood is draining from her face.

* * *

The police assume Zatanna to be a victim, and quickly begin to help escort her weeping, terrified frame toward the door — which may or may not be her intention. Other police swarm the room, some are pausing to look on in absolute alarm at the state of absolute destruction, chaos, and gore that the venue is left in.

Few notice, or care to acknowledge signs of vigilantism. Sometimes, turning a blind eye in the moment is the greatest statement of gratitude.

* * *

May purses her lips slightly at Ms. Marvel's reaction to realizing that she's SHIELD, but she doesn't deny it. "I am, and…" she pauses at this point and touches the comm in her ear. "Not yet compulsory isn't a risk you should take."

Pulling out her badge as the police officers swarm in, she says quietly to Kamala, "Stay close," and then leads the very young-looking woman out of the building, using her credentials to get them past the officers. She then leads her to just out of eyeshot of the emergency services hordes. "Do you have a way to get home from here?"

* * *

Constantine flips the Coin of Ill-Advised Action and gets tails.

* * *

Constantine flips the Coin of Ill-Advised Action and gets tails.

* * *

"…and ice cube." Stark says with a smirk as he looks at the mess of this strange creature that is now frozen in time. "…alright. So…I'm gonna lock this guy up. And then figure out what the hell is wrong with them. And /then/ I'm going to assume that Mister Red I have a plan Bird will want to know everything about it. So I'll send it over…"

A glance down.

"JARVIS, send someone down to help the cops while I get this jackass locked away."

A longer pause.

"…I didn't even get a chance to hit on Emma or talk to Barbra! …stupid not-demon demon things."

* * *

And SHIELD — Agent somebody — just… walks her out. Ms. Marvel keeps a very straight face through the whole thing. This is normal. This is fine. I talk to SHIELD agents all the time. Just the other day I got a ride from one in a flying car.

"I'll keep that in mind," she murmurs. "I. Look. I've worked with you guys before," she whispers. "Or at least I know a couple agents. They're good people. But — "

But the obvious. For people like her, they're the bogeyman.

"Thanks. I can get home. Can I — what can I call you, ma'am? I mean. Agent?"

* * *

When it becomes apparent that the creature they are carrying will successfully be subdued in whatever icy prison, Starfire seems satisfied.

"It appears that he has been neutralized as a threat, yes," the alien will agree in response to the man in the not-iron suit now called Tony. "You have ties to certain government groups that can properly contain him, yes? If so, I am happy to leave him in your custody. Excellent." Because her solutions mostly involve leaving the ice cube floating in space.

Once it seems decided this is so, she releases the cube - really, he can't be that heavy that neither one of them couldn't manage, if not for the struggling.

"It has been a pleasure working with you, Tony. I am also sad I did not get to meet Barbara, although I have not heard of this Emma." She is oddly non-judgmental about him openly commenting on targets for hitting-on that he missed out on at the party.

"Speaking of this, I left my own date behind. I must return, and will have to pretend some of this did not happen. I hope you will not speak too freely of my assistance?"

And with that, she will turn and fly back down toward the building, landing in some out of sight place before rejoining a group of terrified civillians. Unfortunately, it was hard to miss HER antics, and even a few of them may remember. Still, she will do her best.

* * *

"I'll make sure to keep it under wraps," Stark says with some amusement as he shakes his head slightly. "Have fun pretending it didn't happen!" He adds with a cheery wave. Or at least he would wave if he wasn't supporting a ice block now. Instead a pair of little drones wing waggle towards her in a very close approximation of a wave.

A shake of his head then as she streaks off, and he starts to haul his new prisoner off.

"…best party I've been to in years." A pause. "Hey Bart," This in his coms. "You and Rachel ok?" A pause. "I told you it would be entertaining."

* * *

A flying car? She can guess who that was without even having to ask what kind of car it was. "Agent May. And let me guess, the flying car was candy apple red and named Lola." The faintest hint of amusement crosses her features. "If you're with the driver of that car, then you know he's someone you can count on."

After saying that, she steps back and reaches for her comm again. "Acknowledged. I'm clear of the building. Heading toward command now." And with that she nods to Kamala and turns ans walks away.

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