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?

Edited 2021-07-13 02:56 (UTC)

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.

[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.

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.

[[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.]

Edited 2021-08-02 12:36 (UTC)

[[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?

[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.

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.

for irondad

for redsuit

for pinebarrens

no subject

For the Doctor

for Kusuriuri

for unlikelyvillain

no subject