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[onewaytohell]

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for irondad

[onewaytohell]

[[source]]

[Security measures are all well and good but Constantine knows that little of what Tony's security is prepared to handle will be able to manage what's likely coming his way. If they're lucky, it'll keep out the more physical dangers, but the things that might come for him aren't so limited. And with a prize like Tony Stark on the line... Constantine can only imagine what kind of power might be coming their way.

So he brings some of his own big guns with him, although no one would think it to look at him, turning up at the silent Stark Tower with only a battered bag in one hand.]

Fancy digs. Now which part don't you care about getting possibly destroyed?

[irondad]

Is that a trick question?

( Tony eyes the single bag with undisguised doubt, but he turns and beckons for Constantine to follow him to the elevators. )

Building's going on the market in a couple months. I'd like to at least keep the structure intact.

[onewaytohell]

With this kind of mess? Never know what's going to happen.

[Constantine follows after him, looking around at the building curiously as they walk. He'd never usually end up in a place like this - not without being tossed out on his arse shortly after entering - and it looks like he wasn't wrong in assuming it would be all bleeding edge tech and fancy chrome.]

Working on any other big projects? Might have something to do with how you've got a target painted on you. Let's face it; there's more powerful types if that were the only reason to go after you. So there must be something else. If it's not a vendetta...

Well I imagine Stark Industries can reach a lot of people in the world. Nice way for a demon to generate a lot of souls.

[irondad]

( He gives the question some serious thought, sliding his thumb across the biometric scanner once inside the lift, and off they go. )

Clean energy, biomed development, binaural augmented reality, funding student research, upgrading our telecoms the world over, and addressing the hole in our current anti-alien defenses as a whole. Among other things.

( Those go ticked off one by one, as he leans back against the rail. )

You think I have I'm being targeted because I have reach?

for redsuit

[onewaytohell]

don't be. like I said, I'm not complaining.

well, not for anything other than the fact you're still taking your time getting here.

[redsuit]

Yeah- Yeah. Give me a sec-

[ Because hey, implying Barry was doing *anything* slowly was a little bit insulting. And really- it only takes a few seconds for Barry to zoom around the city to find exactly where the waverider was parked. Another second to convince Gideon to open the doors before the familiar red blur was just stopping in the others room with a bright, happy smirk on his face because- well, he'd been true to his word right?

Barry himself wasn't in the flash suit. Just as simple pair of dull blue, tight jeans that showed off the curve of his runners ass quite nicely- and a simple black shirt as he reached back to close the others door with a button, his eyes not leaving the other.]

So. You serious or was this whole thing just some elaborate prank?

[onewaytohell]

[Constantine's room is not exactly a mess but is definitely cluttered; there's a number of esoteric books piled around the place in no particular order, several questionable looking items set on various surfaces, and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke. All of which Barry likely takes in due to his faster senses, because no sooner is the door closed then Constantine is shoving him against it and cutting off the rest of the question with a rough kiss.

Both hands cradle the speedster's face gently and his teeth catch Barry's lower lip as he pulls away to meet his gaze, thumbs gently smoothing over his cheekbones.]

Does that answer your question, speedy?

for pinebarrens

[onewaytohell]

[The pub Constantine steers them both towards doesn't stand out as anything fancy in the slightest, but the beer is good, as requested, and there's enough other people that any conversation won't stand out but no so much that they have to shout. And they can duck out if they want to go somewhere more private.]

So, Leeds from New Jersey... quite a reputation in that place.

[pinebarrens]

Oh yeah, [ he says with a laugh, finding a table for them and sliding into one side of the booth. ] Mother Leeds and her thirteenth child. [ god, he'd hated her back then, knowing how he'd been abandoned. at the time, he'd blamed her for everything-- for his birth, for being alone, for being raised.. the way he'd been raised. he knows better now, of course. women were treated like little more than property back then, and she'd just been trying to survive.

he pushes his foot against constantine's beneath the table, brows arching in amusement. ] I'm actually from the pine barrens, too.

[onewaytohell]

Then you must have heard a lot about it in your time.

[It's one legend that he refreshingly hasn't ever had to investigate himself, beyond general curiosity. Enough to decide that if there is any truth to the story, whatever it was wasn't hurting anyone.

And while it's an interesting topic, it's not as interesting as the gent opposite him. Constantine grins, gaze flicking teasingly back at Hiram before dropping back to his hands, his tongue wetting his lower lip briefly.]

You know you are making it difficult for a man to go get us both a beer.

[nightlife]

A long day, for Bruce Wayne. Not the socialite, but the owner of a multibillion dollar conglomerate; he is careful and surgical in the way he keeps the company under his control, but just barely. There are hawks and sharks desperate to pry the reins from the faded tabloid darling, and some of them are even on the board. Now and again (and especially when they want to 'renegotiate' employee health care, or try to contract with the Department of Defense), he has to set his careful chess game aside and go in with a shotgun. So to speak.

It's more annoying than being Batman. Definitely more tiring.

But it means he quarters in the city proper, and not the lake house. (Definitely not the ruins of the manor.) He can almost taste the ghost of it in the air in the elevator, which would be a giveaway if he lacked his particular security. No lock can keep out a magician's teleport, but his automated surveillance can still send him a polite text about it.

Motherfucker. Cigarettes in his penthouse.

"One of those windows had better be open," he says, shrugging off his jacket. The sprawling rooftop estate has plenty, the whole of this awful city visible from end to end, broken up by dark ribs of art deco steel.

[onewaytohell]

"'course it is, luv," comes the response, all blatant disregard for any kind of niceties. Neither of them is the kind to ask how someone is or about their day even without their unusual partnership. The main politeness Constantine can show is the fact that there are, in fact, a couple of windows open and an uncannily accurate breeze that seems to filter the smoke that rises from his cigarette towards them and out into the evening air.

Constantine himself looks similarly worse for wear, tie even more askew than usual, shirt and skin alike marked with grime and dried blood and a couple of bruises starting to blossom in places. The coat is tossed aside and shirtsleeves rolled up, a sign he's been here longer for a few moments, and he's sitting in one of the expensive chairs with two bare feet up on the desk and what he hopes is some important paperwork. All the better to get a rise or at least leave a sign he was here at all.

Once Bruce is closer, he does give him a once over, although there's enough heat in his gaze that it's clearly not just checking the state the billionaire had arrived in.

"Looks like you could use a release, luv. And it just so happens I could do with something to take my mind off things too."

[nightlife]

"A business visit, huh." Dry, as he makes his way over. Careful in his movements, not faking anything, but not yet off the clock long enough to fully bleed into his thoughtless, predatory grace. Bruce comes up alongside him and reaches out with one hand, capturing Constantine's jaw and pushing him back into the chair, head tipped back. His other hand snags that cigarette, and a flick sends it soaring away out a window. Impressive, until you realize he could probably hit a bird with it from twenty yards away, and then it's just petty.

That done, he releases him and steps away, circling back towards the kitchen, undoing cufflinks, tie bar, buttons. Always so made-up, like he can't conceive of not wearing armor.

"Was it very bad this time, or are you just very bored?"

Sometimes it's awful. I have to forget. Sometimes it's just because there's no one else who can fill the right gap. Bruce understands both. There's no alcohol anywhere in the penthouse, but he finds himself checking anyway, a tedious buzz starting in the back of his head. Withdrawal from alcohol dependency was only half as bad as recovering from some of the poisons and toxins he's got an immunity for, not it's been frustratingly long-reaching. Sometimes when he's agitated, his mind reaches out for it without his permission.

Sugar-free ginger ale it is. (Goddamnit, Alfred.) He twists the cap on it, closes the sleek refrigerator with his foot, and mentally maps out what he has immediately at hand. Out here, or in the bedroom, or in the bath. Takes stock of the other man's gaze and just how much of a frayed edge he seems to have (or not) as he returns, moving a little more like himself.

For the Doctor

[onewaytohell]

[[from here]]

[Bloody hell, of course he takes one evening to try and enjoy himself and the Doctor ends up abducted by… Constantine squints at the image. Oh. That’s not good.]

You’re not going to be able to get that open from inside. It’s a seal for a trap used by the True Followers of Time’s End. Designed to trap their messiah, who they believe to be an undying entity that walks the Earth for eternity, wearing many faces but present for all of humanities critical moments.

[As he types, Constantine is on his way out of the pub, possible pleasant evenings forgotten. He shouldn’t have left the handsome idiot alone, he practically hands himself out to be abducted at the best of times.]

They believe that they need to trap this entity and siphon power from them in order to break humanity free and bring on an age of enlightenment and freedom from the bounds of time.

[So yes, probably just a little more concerned, Doctor.]

[memory_lapses]

[ He hums thoughtfully, pacing the room for probably the hundredth time. ]

Break humanity free... of course.

[ He works much better thinking out loud than he does through text, which is why a second later John gets a call from him-- and without much in the way of a 'How do you do?' ] The distress signal I picked up. I had picked it up in the time vortex, originating from somewhere near this time-space coordinate. I thought it was another Time Lord, stranded here. Probably should have expected something like this... unfortunately I was a little more prepared for your standard alien kidnapping, not my own personal occultist fan club.

[ It doesn't take too many guesses to figure out what he probably doesn't want to still be around when they decide to siphon power from him. Whatever it is they have in store can't be too pretty. ]

The question is: how did they manage to broadcast that signal? Because from everything I've gathered from our encounters indicates that the occult is terrestrial in nature. I've never seen it be able to have this sort of reach before...

[ The question should actually be: where am I and how do I get out of this. But the Doctor's mind is nothing if not fixated. ]

[onewaytohell]

[It's probably a good thing that this exchange is via voice and the Doctor can't see him rolling his eyes as, of course the Time Lord is more interested in the puzzle than his own impending agonising death.

This is why he put one of the nails of St. Padua in the Doctor's coat, trusting that he carries so much in there he won't really notice. Never knew when he'd have to track the blasted man down.

Constantine digs out his own nail and balances it in the palm of his hand for a moment before starting off in the direction it indicates.]

Yeah, well. Magic is starting to get stronger these days. If they've had any contact with someone like you before, could be that they've found a way to boost it to reach where it needs to.

How long have you been there? [It'd give him an idea of what kind of time frame he might have before things got a lot more serious.]

for Kusuriuri

[onewaytohell]

[[from here]]

[There’s been a few instances in the past where Constantine has been grateful for the speed at which the Medicine Seller can move, and learned quickly to let the strange man take his time otherwise. For one thing, his strange companion usually had very good instincts about when they needed to move quickly and when they didn’t, and for another… Constantine couldn’t prove anything but he was fairly certain that the Medicine Seller deliberately moved slower when the demonologist was impatient. There’s probably a lesson in patience in that, but Constantine has never been one for that sort of learning.

As soon as the bandages are secured, he starts pushing himself up, wincing through the pain but soldiering on. So long as his leg can support him, he’ll walk.]

Right as rain, luv. Never better.

[He tugs out a pendant from his shirt and grips it by the chain, looking around until he spots a glob of spittle from the creature that attacked him and swipes the medallion through it. With a low murmur, Constantine completes the incantation and a beam of light emanates from the medallion.]

Now, lets see about finding out who’s behind all of this, shall we?

[meds4sale]

[ This gets a skeptical narrowing of the eyes that suggest the Medicine Seller rather disagrees about Constantine being right as anything after a hell hound bit a chunk out his leg, but as a patch job, it will have to do. Packing away is supplies, he hefts the medicine box onto his back.

The light from the medallion does intrigue him enough to peer in for a closer look, despite the reek of dog spit. ]

How useful. Is this one of your own making...?

[onewaytohell]

You know me, bit of this and that lifted from various places. [A magpie of magic, he'd been called before. Like that was something to be ashamed of, learning as much about everything he could get his hands on.

The leg hurts like a bitch when he puts his weight on it, but it holds without too much limping and Constantine starts off, following the beam of light.]

Can't be too far from the strength. Must not have had time to plan it if they're close by for the spell either.

[Which could be good or bad; an amateur could end up being unpredictable and dangerous, especially if they ended up trying to grasp power that they weren't ready to handle.]

for unlikelyvillain

[onewaytohell]

[Curious about his new acquaintance's display of power (and the man in general, he was easy on the eyes after all), Constantine suggests a place nearby, a bar that is lowkey enough for them to have a bit of privacy, but not shady enough to scare the man off. He's not foolish enough to suggest that they retire to his place, though not from concerns about being too forward. Inviting just anyone into the manor is a fine way to get himself killed or have the countless priceless magical artefacts, books, and other such pieces stolen. Best not to risk it, even if it seems like it might be a fine night.

Instead he buys Peter a drink, setting it down in front of him and dropping a key on the table as well.]

Owner rents out a room above the bar, owes me a favour. Figure, if you're still thinking you can... what was it? Grab me by my tie? You should have a destination in mind.

[vivicidal]

[ Peter finds himself in these types of venues more often than he cares to admit, venues that provide him with nothing more than a warm body to indulge his desires for a night - a bit less lowkey and shady but similar. Rarely does he walk in with his acquaintance but he never backs down from a challenge as alluring as the one the man poses, so tantalizing in his brazen attitude, in his rugged good looks, and in the unadulterated magnetism that initially lured him in.

With drink set in place, Peter curls his fingers around the cool surface of the glass with a nod, then downs a third with ease. There's nothing about his body language that suggests nerves, but rather, appreciation of the taste and warmth as his tongue darts out over his lips. ]

I don't think I can, I know I can. [ He exudes a quiet confidence as he slides his hand over the key and into his pocket. ] In any case, I'm quite good at thinking on my feet, I would've come up with a destination as soon as I had my hands on you... perhaps, I would've dragged you in the nearest back alley, pushed you up against a stone wall, and fucked you there.

[onewaytohell]

[The man radiates casual confidence that makes Constantine certain that he's used to having his way; with the looks and the attitude, likely gets anyone he sets eyes on. And while he's hardly intending to say no outright, he is curious what might happen if it's not quite as smooth a ride as Peter might expect.

That, and he never could help himself from pushing further than he should.]

Pretty confident for a man who I led here and bought a drink for. Here I am in arm's reach all the while, and you've yet to make good on any of those promises. Starting to think you're more talk than action, pretty boy.

[fantabulousandwich]

Say you got a bud who's a monster, and one day he tells you he's been eating your fear of him. Is that as weird but sustainable as it sounds? Or is that the kind of thing where you might wake up one day and look 80 because he's been sucking down your life force like a capri sun?

Asking for a friend.

[onewaytohell]

[Well that's worrying.]

depends on the monster. some of them it might be alright, some might end up draining you dry. others it might get even worse.

you asked this 'bud' what happens if you stop being afraid of him? or if the fear isn't enough eventually?

[fantabulousandwich]

[Damn; she was hoping that second message would throw him off the scent. How'd he know??]

Well, he called it 'microfeeding,' so it didn't seem like a big whoop at the time.... and if he wanted to eat me eat me, he totally could've tried it already. Accidentally walked into his stomach once. Or maybe it's his mouth... it's complicated, but the POINT is, he let me go.