063 [location: the workshop (locked-ish for Ettie shenans) ] we had darkened doors

[aintnoconvict]

Okay maybe something weird is going on, or several unrelated weird things. One being Sherlock's...whatever, no one's reported running into either(?) of him so that mystery remains. Glitch is maintaining his skepticism.

There's also the mystery of Madelyne's creepy gift-giver, which at least has given him a non-Sherlock related excuse to try and keep tabs on her. Friends in need and all that.

Less mysterious but infinitely more tiresome is the aliens' latest art installation, which he is giving all the attention it deserves: none whatsoever. Instead he's at the shop, hunched over a drafting table and working on a design for a remote controlled flying thingy which can maybe give him a better look at/study of the lighthouse beacon.

(Glitch is going to be building unmanned drones, Taxon. Enjoy that thought.)

So yes, there he is, going about his business and contentedly ignoring the crap out of everything. What can possibly go wrong?


OOC: There will be need for intervention at some point since ninja vs. demon is not a fair fight, though I have word from Dien that anybody turning up will make Ettie scamper out of a desire to not be seen. Yep.

Comments

[aintnoconvict]

(Etrigan you are literally the worst.)

In Glitch's mind, this is going pretty well. Sure the fire's not quiet going out and is indeed spreading a bit but he did hit the monster and it has caused damage, apaprently.

Part of his brain is considering the water and steam and thinking there might be melting going on. Another part doubts he's even close to that lucky. The majority sees the tablet and reaches for it with his left hand, the right swinging in to deliver a (very unsporting) uppercut to the demon's solar plexus.

On a scale of 1 - 10, a) how stupid is this, and b) how close is it to the equivalent of punching a piping hot brick wall?

[personaldemon]

(He kinda is.)

On a scale of 1-10...... we'll say a seven.

Because ow, yeah, that uppercut rams into the belly of a creature not of this world, not of any 'world' depending on how metaphysical you want to get about it, and it gives not a bit in comparison to what it does to Glitch's hand.

Glitch gets his hand into the metaphorical cookie jar before Etrigan's hand closes around his wrist with a grip like iron. He is touching his tablet, but 'touching' does not equate to 'will be able to pull this out', exactly.

(Glitch may not register it in this particular, adrenaline-fueled moment, but.... his fingers brush against something else in the pouch, something small and metallic and detailed. Or perhaps he does notice it?)

The demon's eyes are red, glowing slits through the blisters the chemicals have raised on his already-none-too-pretty face.

"What thief? What nerve!-- what does he deserve?
"Perhaps I'll take your head, instead of peek.
"Oh genius, observe; life's not graded on curves
"And your score, I fear, looks bleak."

[aintnoconvict]

Inelegant cry of pain? Yes, gods yes, and if Glitch were a bit less concerned about the whole not-dying thing he'd be worrying about possibly having broken something. As that's the case whatever else Etrigan may have in his pocketessesses is not much of a concern, though it does get filed away as having a pokey bit and a rounder bit.

This registers because his fingers are trying desperately to get the tablet to boradcast something, anything, of the situation. The likelyhood of success there is minimal since the damn thing never accidentally turns on when you want it to, and also because he's realized he's made a terrible, terrible mistake and is working himself into a panic as to how badly he needs to escape.

He kicks at Etrigan's shins with one steel-toed boot and heaves the rest of himself backward in an effort to twist away, injured hand flailing back towards the cabinet in the hopes of finding a tool...a weapon. A ball pein hammer.

Does he get a chance to swing back around and smack Ettie's ugly mug with it?

[personaldemon]

Etrigan grunts through fanged teeth at the blunt impact of the boot against his leg. At least the boot protects Glitch's toes-- but it doesn't seem to much inconvenience the monster, either.

A smirk crawls onto Etrigan's face as he watches the human flail for a weapon. Ah, survival instincts-- so cute.

He makes no move to dodge the arch of the hammer-- he only turns his head to meet it with his open mouth, of all things. There's a dull crack as the head of the hammer hits his jagged fangs, and then his mouth snaps shut around it.

Etrigan bites the hammer head loose of its shaft, turns his head, and deliberately spits out the chunk of metal and splinters of wood.

"That's one, two, three strikes you're out--
"At the old-- ball-- game.
"So squirm if you like-- go on, twist about--
"But darling, it all ends in flame."

The beast opens its maw, and Glitch can see a red glow burning up from where normal people have esophaguses. (esophagi?)

The moment is broken by the sound of a door slamming open, somewhere down in the front room.

"Glitch? Glitch, you in here? Fucking Christ this place looks like a shambles."

The demon snarls-- specifically on the word 'Christ'-- and drops Glitch's wrist as abruptly as he'd seized it to begin with.

[aintnoconvict]

Glitch sees, yes, but barely since the brimstone smoke is thickening despite the spray of water (would foam put the fire out? options vs. time vs. materials vs.) and stinging his eyes, lancing into his lungs with each breath--

Flame. Fire. This'll be twice now it's killed him here and still he's fighting, stabbing futiley at the beast with the broken hammer shaft.

Too close and too far away there's the bang of the door and his heart leaps at being saved before dropping since well now they'll both get killed and that will be pretty much the worst possible thing. Only the monster lets him go, and the release of pressure makes his hand spasm so he's not sure he still has the tablet or if it fell on the floor or back into the pouch.

He falls, bad hand curling around bad wrist, and lashes out to try and hook a foot around one of Etrigan's ankles and maybe bring him down or that's the half-thought plan.

"Here!" he calls out, but it ends in a choked cough, followed by "Don't--!" which could mean anything but the intent is Don't come back unless you've got a grenade launcher there's a hostile and also I'm not sure how close that fire is to reaching the gas line.

Get tablet, don't die, don't let Paul die, shut off gas valve, stop monster, put out fire, shift priorities as needed.

[personaldemon]

Kick goes the headcase; tunk goes his foot around Etrigan's ankles. The power of physics can do many things, but tripping a creature that weighs three-hundred-plus pounds and can crumple steel with its bare hands is, apparently, not one of them-- it's a bit like trying to trip a tree.

The monster pays no attention to the attempt, head swiveled in the direction of the front of the shop, and the voice, teeth bared, eyes gleaming like coals. Considering.

After the space of three frantic heartbeats the demon reaches down, plucks Glitch's tablet back from his numb fingers-- adds insult to injury by giving Glitch a pat on the cheek that scratches three red lines down his skin-- and then whirls with a flutter of his cape and climbs for the skylight.

"Next time, dear! I fear we must adjourn
"As token of my esteem, I'll leave you now to burn."

The mouth gapes wide and a gout of brilliant, seething fire erupts to blast the floor and a few more worktables, the heat enough to singe eyebrows from feet away. A mad laugh, the sound of breaking glass, and the creature has vanished through the skylight.

[smecker]

Paul is peering into the smoke, cursing under his breath, drawing the gun he's been carrying the past couple of days since this bullshit about duplicates or whatever. He hears noises from further in, maybe Glitch's voice, clearly things breaking.

Shit. Shit. On the topic of things he wants to do, running into a blazing building filled with god knows what flammable chemicals Glitch may have stored in here is not his idea of a party.

There's an eye-rinse station Glitch has set up near the front door-- thank Christ-- so Paul tugs his shirt up and starts dousing it as quickly as the water stream allows.

"I'm coming in for you! Keep making noise if you can hear me!" he shouts.

[aintnoconvict]

Etrigan should find that that's injury to insult to injury, actually. Glitch flinches and rolls away - damn, so much for objective one - then crawls away from the increased fire as best he can. Close to the floor there's a bit less smoke, but he can't escape the sting of embers though fortunately his clothes are too wet to ignite.

Right, Paul, he needs to reply.

"C'n hear you!" he calls. "I-it's gone, got my tab-- gonna find the gas valve." Yeah good luck parsing that.

The fire's not spreading that quickly but it is proving very water resistant. Part of his brain is wondering about the properties and what he can possibly do about it.

[smecker]

It? What the hell is it? Whatever, fire is a verifiable threat, and something about a gas valve-- ohhh yeah, that's a very significant threat, if there's gas somewhere in here--

Paul drags his wetted shirt up over his mouth and nose, drops to his hands and knees where the smoke is thinner, and starts a fast crawl forward towards the sound of Glitch's voice. Which is coincidentally where the glow of fire seems thickest. Motherfuck.

"I'm coming your way-- is this valve close or should we prioritize getting the fuck out?" he says... rather muffled through his shirt.

[aintnoconvict]

"Valve!" Which is to say Glitch is prioritizing NOT having literally all of his life's work going up in flames. Again. Good news is his voice is closer so they're likely heading towards each other. "Bot...bottom of the st-"

Muffled hacking here. He's stopped moving for a moment to cover his face with his arm, catching a few slightly-filtered breaths.

"Bottom of th' stairs t' the office, gonna be to your left. Red wheely thing." A pause. Yeah. "Race ya!"

[smecker]

Paul grits his teeth and wonders how much Glitch would fight him if he tried to just drag him out of here. Probably way too much. Fuck, fine, fucking valve it is.

That coughing doesn't sound good. Who knows how much smoke Glitch has inhaled. He grimaces again at the 'race you' thing.

"How about 'oh hell no', just concentrate on getting the fuck out of the smoke, Glitch." Like the OZian needs more brain damage. "I'll-- OW, christ-- find your damn valve--"

And crawl into things in the process, apparently.

Groping ahead, his eyes beginning to water from the smoke, Paul thinks he sees something red and round. "Got it. I think. Tighty-righty or lefty-loosey?"

[aintnoconvict]

"Right!" There's even a little hand-painted (by DG) sign, not that one can really see it at the moment.

What one may be able to see is movement along the floor from out of the thickest smoke, flame, and steam. Glitch's waterlogged curls flop around his bloody face, his right forearm is pressed against his nose and mouth, and he's hauling himself along with feet and left elbow.

"I've got to--" He looks around as best he can, thinking frantically of what to save. So much is likely gone already, plans and prototypes and materials...he looks up the stairs towards the office/lounge/sanctuary and shakes his head, knowing it's hopeless but maybe it'll be spared.

"--borrow your tablet, they need to know there's--"

More coughing, re-prioritize: don't die, escape, warn the city. He shakes his head and keeps crawling toward the front of the shop.

[smecker]

"Right." Paul grabs the wheel and yanks, turning it until it doesn't turn anymore. He looks around for Glitch-- sees him getting out of the smoke-- aw fuck, Paul registers blood; in the moment he can't tell how bad it is but there's definitely blood.

"Fucking Christ, c'mon, sport, out, out, no more smoke breathing for you--" Quick ground crawl towards him, and Paul will, if necessary, drag him outside, fumbling for his tablet as he goes.


[And then to here!]