Summary:
18 December, 2014: Zees teleport brings her to where she needs to be, not where she wants to be and she foils an occultist.
Gotham
You know, dirty, corrupt, Gotham
Characters
NPCs
- None
Mood Music:
[*<http://insert.video.or.music.link.here>]
* Scene sets emitted by Constantine *
Zatanna Zatara, one of the worlds finest Stage Magicians, and potentially one of the worlds better mages has a feeling. Feelings aren't something she normally works on but, being good on stage means she has learned to take cues, and the universe dished one up for her today. So, it is for that reason, she appears with slight 'pop' in the Otisburg regions of Gotham… dressed in a woolen dress over leggings, knee high boots and a jacket. Her long, dark, hair falling free.
Pausing as she teleports in, Zatanna takes time to observe the scene. She's really no idea why she's here, but something just doesn't feel right to her.
***
Gotham's been seeing an uptick in dark magics recently. Summons, sacrifices, spells… the three 'S' of evil afoot, and with a new story being passed around the city's local eyes and ears every week. The current story on everyone's lips is the bodies discovered on top of a charred summoning circle in a warehouse near the docks, but that's just the most recent in a long line of demonic activity.
The minute Zatanna arrives in Otisberg, the miasma of black magic is immediately palpable to her. It hangs over the district like a cloud- families are shuttered in their homes, hiding behind thresholds, and even the street gangs have retired to bars and fortified hangouts. There's a minimum of traffic on the street and it's unseasonably warm for a winter evening, with dark clouds stirring ominously high overhead despite the lack of winds.
Not far from Zatanna, lights flicker atop a five-story building, one of the taller structures in the district. They seem alien and unnatural, neither electricity nor natural flames, casting their light up into the teeth of the growling clouds overhead.
***
Zatanna watches the lights on that five storey building, the look on her face grim. The miasma sticks to her like an ill fitting coat, and she resists the urge to shudder. "What the hell is happening in Gotham" she grumbles to herself as she stalks down the street in the general direction of those lights. Sure, she could teleport there but that raises a whole heap of different issues. Better to get closer first.
***
The energy darkens more and gains both depth and intensity, as palpable as the pressure in the air preceding a hurricance.
The energy darkens more and gains both depth and intensity, as palpable as the pressure in the air preceding a hurricane. The doors to the office space are locked, but that shouldn't provide any hindrance to a magician of Zatanna's skill. There are, however, a goodly number of unsavoury individuals in the lobby- drinking, doing drugs, engaging in carnal activities. Most of them are of that dangerous age, when the impressionability of youth meets the peak of strength and danger. A few guns and improvised weapons are about, but the ragged band of street hoodlums is far from an organized force. Hardly a cult army, at least, not so far. Beyond them are the elevators that lead up to the rooftop, and candles and lanterns provide stark illumination where the overhead lights pop and flicker into darkness.
***
Reaching the doors to the building, which are all glass providing a good view of what's happening inside, Zatanna peers inside and sighs. "The young and impressionable, such great fodder…" again, she speaks to herself. "gnikorW sehtholC" she mutters and instantly, her current garb transform to her Tails, fishnet stockings, Leotard and Top Hat - the epitome of a Stage Magician.
***
"srooD nepO" she speaks firmly and the glass doors slide open allowing her to enter. "nerdlihC oG emoH" she speaks as she moves through the drug addled, driven throng. As an after thought she adds "sonpaeW delbasiD" as she moves, and any weapons prove to be useless against her. She moves through the throng inexorably to the elevators.
***
The crowd breaks apart into scattered diffusion, a look of befuddlement crossing the faces of the young victims of the evil presence manifesting overhead. They start drifting out the doors, singly and in groups, leaving Zatanna unmolested. Some even leave their weapons on the ground along with their drugs, forgotten in the haze of her magical order.
***
Once in the elevators, it's a simple matter to head to the top floor- a button labelled 'Roof' makes it as easy as a gesture. The doors shut and with a *ding* the booth travels skyward, rapidly hitting the rooftops. It opens on a bizarre tableu- torches and halogen lights are linked together to create a crude web of illumination, scattered haphazardly on the smooth rooftop. A man stands in the center of a group of kneeling, swaying individuals, their heads shaved bald and savage red marks dyeing their skin sanguine. Eyes closed, they hold their hands out in supplication, chanting in a fel tongue while the man at the center, wearing a white robe stained in the unmistakeable hues of fresh blood, reads from a leather-bound book, holding a bloody, still-dripping heart in one hand, hovering over the center of an arcane sigil on the ground, painted rather prosaically with white spray paint.
***
Stepping forward, Zee takes a moment to survey the scene and nodding resolutely to herself moves towards White robed figured. Her left hand gestures as she speaks ~sehcroT dna sthgiL tuO~, then the right hand gestures ~setylocA esrepsiD~ and Zee continues her determined walk.
***
The Acolytes, looking baffled and scared, start backing hurriedly away from the determined heeled stride of the woman. Some outright flee, while others collapse and just crawl away feebly, shaking their heads in befuddlementat the compulsion Zatanna is forcing upon them.
The cultist pales, his hands lowering as blood spatters on the ground. "You… you're Zatanna!" he says, terror on his face. "Stand back, bitch!" he snarls, holding the heart aloft and putting a ritual knife atop it, prepared to slash it open. "I'll cut this thing open and blast you into the nether if you don't turn and run, right now!" he swears, raging at the woman.
***
Zee stops her movement and offers a polite stage bow. "The one and only, Zatanna Zatara, at your service." The raven haired mage smiles brightly at the cultist before she starts moving again. As she steps over the surface of the spray painted sigil, she scuffs her boot hard and should break the pattern spray painted there, whilst speaking and flourishing her hand
~porD ehT efinK nO ehT dnuorG~
***
The cultist struggles with the compulsion that washes over him, and the knife clatters against the ground, breaking instantly into shards as it hits the concrete underfoot, stone skittering in every direction. "Noooooo!" the cultist screams, looking down at the blade. "That was a sanctified blade! It was a thousand years old!" He hurls the bloody heart at Zatanna, though it *splorches* to the ground a few feet in front of her immaculate high-heels, blood pooling around it. He whirls around wildly, with nowhere to run and no weapons at hand, then throws his hands at Zatanna, triggering an explosive bolt of blood-colored lightning from his fingertips. It's wild, dangerous magic- drawing on his own life force to fuel the spell, a desperation move from the man back into the corner by the Mistress of Magic.
***
Zees motion is such that she walks through the pooling blood, ick…. continuing towards the cultist. As his spell triggers, the young woman crosses her wrists in front of herself and speaks:
~ dleihS woN ~
A shield of pale purple appears in front of her, around her crossed wrists just in time for the lightning to hit it. It hits so hard that Zees' forward movement is arrested and she's driven to her knees, in all that pooling blood (ick again), but if she hold the man will drain himself first.
***
The man falls to the ground with a scream of agony, staring at the charred, blackened skin covered his hands and forearms- too little skill combined with too much knowledge results in agony for novices and would-be villains alike. He looks at Zatanna and screams once more, sobbing in agony, and unable to coherently focus his thoughts into the makings of another spell, even as Zatanna drops to her knees in response to his wild, desperate strike.
***
Rising slowly, magic takes a toll on most practioners (some more than others obviously), Zee approaches the Cultist but stops out of his reach and looks down on him and tsks. "Poor training and raw power, led you to this. But I can't let you suffer." Zee has some compassion. Another flourish of her hands and she speaks
~laeH siH snruB~
The young woman must look like a sight with blood covering her legs and her shoes…
***
The burned, ragged skin simply… falls away, like a cleansing water washes away charcoal stains. He looks agape at Zatanna after the searing pain leaves and he flexes his fingers, the skin smooth and baby soft. "…how… how did you do that?" he asks, fear and wonder mixing on his face as he regards Zatanna with awe.
***
Zee shrugs her shoulders and touches the side of her nose "A good magician never reveals her tricks" she replies knowingly. "Now tell me what you were doing here and what type of heart that was."
***
The man starts crying, shaking his head, hands falling against his thighs. "It's all over. It doesn't matter," he sobs. "Just kill me. They told me if I didn't make this work, they'd kill me themselves and use my heart for the sacrifice. It was just some chick we found over at NYU at a party… we got her high and chucked her in a van. The guy… he said… he said we just needed her heart, and we'd have more power than we could imagine." It's clear the cultist really has no idea what's happening here- just one more cog in someone's diabolical plan.
***
Shaking her head, Zee looks at the young man and then down at her clothes. "You will have to pay for your crime." she replies and then with another hand flourish she speaks:
~dniB miH dnaH dnA tooF~
Producing her cell phone from what appears to be thin air, Zee calls the Police and leaves the details of where they can find a self confessed killer.
***
The man watches magical chains lash into place around his wrists and ankles, binding him and forcing him to fall to one side. He just sits and weeps, unable to move or flee, and forced to contemplate his fate as the police are dispatched and he is left to contemplate what his masters might inflict upon him at his failure.
***
Zee turns and starts walking away, her cell phone disappearing into thin air. As she does she speaks:
~eshtolC teertS~ and then ~tropeleT eM emoH~
And the young magicians costume disappears and is replaced by the woolen dress, leggings, knee high boots and jacket she started the night in. And then she simply disappears from the roof top without further ado.
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