- Location
- Hampden Park
10th December
00:43 GMT -5
John turns his head to look at her. "Ambrose Bierce? Should bloody hope not. He's a good four inches shorter 'an me, comes from Indiana an' I know one end of a flaming hairbrush from the other."
"I think he's wearing platforms now."
John grins and reaches into his coat for his cigarettes. "Ambrose? Wearin' four inch platforms? Sounds like it'd almost be worth huntin' the little sod down jus' t'see it."
"Please don't. The world does not need two John Constantines in the same place."
Catwoman nods in understanding. "Oh, you're John Constantine. I wondered why people kept calling him that."
John lights his cigarette. "S'small world." He inhales, turns and kneels down, breathing smoke out over the gun where it lies on the floor. He then stays there, gazing into the smoke. The smoke itself isn't magical -I saw him buy the Silk Cuts from a newsagent myself- but he can use it as a self hypnosis aid while he tries to get a feel for the magics in the gun. Appearance is easy enough to fake with magic and we can't really remove magic from the target without the risk of ruining it. "What were you doin' when you met ole Ambrose, anyway?"
"Trying to get some books appraised. There's more fake magic in Gotham than real magic, but after what happened last time…"
John nods. "Looks like a tramp, but 'e usually knows 'is stuff."
Missus Gordon-Hewitt frowns down at him imperiously. "If you're quite finished wheezing soot all over my antiquity..?"
John glances up at her. "Jus' doin' a double check…" He grasps the gun around the breech and stands up, raising it to his eye level in order to better examine the design. Apparently satisfied, he works the lever action and has a look inside. "Moves easier 'an last time I tried it."
Missus Gordon-Hewitt looks mildly offended. "Of course. I've kept it properly maintained. You're satisfied that it's genuine?"
"Completely." He swings the lever shut, points the gun down at the ground and gives the trigger a squeeze. I can just hear a slight 'click'. "Coulda done with this more'n a few times over the last couple a' years, I don't mind tellin' you."
"Hm." Missus Gordon-Hewitt smiles proudly. "I'm glad to hear it. One tries to do one's research but one can never be completely certain." John nods and hands the Ace of Winchesters to her, stock first. She takes it and cradles it like a lapdog. "Not until a prospective buyer ups the price. So." She fixes her eyes on me. "What are you offering?"
I shrug. "What do you want? I haven't brought anything much with me." I hold out my right hand and Sportsmaster's plasma crossbow thing appears. "Something a little more modern, perhaps? The Ace of Winchesters might be a famous weapon amongst certain circles but Sportsmaster has far better name recognition to a modern audience."
She peers at it. "Where did you get that?"
"Santa Prisca. He was trying to purchase a mutagenic compound from the Kobra Cult but wasn't up to fighting a Lantern."
"What did he use it for?"
"Shooting people. I'm sorry, it's a unique weapon but the way it does damage isn't unusual enough for me to link particular kills to it. I mean, you could always ask him. It's not like his visitor slots are occupied by anyone."
"In Belle Reve? At my age? Catwoman, tell him about when Tommy Monaghan used the Ace of Winchesters to kill that demon, Mawzir."
Catwoman shrugs. "What's to tell? One shot at the center of his chest and he burned up."
John frowns. "Haven't heard of a 'Mawzir', though that doesn't mean anything if he's a new kid. Know anything else about him?"
Catwoman shifts uncomfortably in her seat as the playful-sexy supervillain cat burglar persona fades. Fun's gone. She's having to remember something she'd much rather forget. "White skin, ten arms -four on one side, six on the other- and swastika tattoo on his forehead. His… He took orders from someone called Arkannone."
John nods. "Oh, that thing I've heard of. But a Demon shouldn't have a swastika tattoo. Not unless they were possessing someone or tryin' t'wind you up."
"Arkannone… He was trying to recruit Monaghan to be one of his agents on Earth. I was surprised he turned him down, actually."
"Surprisin' where you can find moral fibre, sometimes. And it's always nice to know there's someone out there worse than you, even if it is a Demon."
"Before Etrigan tore him apart, Arkannone said something about having made Mawzir from the souls of five Nazi war criminals."
"Ah, that explains it. Sounds like Mawzir wasn't actually…" John tries to work out how to explain complex arcane concepts to people who know nothing about the topic. "See, Demons, most of them these days… Even some of the really powerful ones, they started out as mortals. Souls damned and sent to hell. Being the worst of the worst isn't enough -though they usually are- but people so full of hate and the need to hurt that they make Hell a part of themselves. Most people, you send them to Hell and there's basically nothing left after a century or two. Some…" His lip curls. "Blossom. But most people don't have what it takes. On the other hand, most people have something like that in 'em. Some crawlin' bit of evil lurkin' in their head they've got the sense to ignore. Five Nazis… I mean, the ones who actually did the mass murdering, not the ones with the clean hands back home in the Fatherland… If Arkannone took the worst out of each of them and stuck it together with his own magics… He'd get something. Wouldn't exactly be a Demon though."
"Then what is it?"
"It's called a Lukhavim. Pretty similar, I'll admit. But there's differences. It's got no independence for a start. No agenda of its own. Arkannone's magic made it, holds it together. He gives it an order, it'll do everything it can to carry it out. Understands the modern world better'an most old school Demons too. It use weapons?"
Catwoman nods. "Handguns."
"Most Demons can't get their heads around that. They go for claws, strength… Magic. Some use swords or axes. They had the Ace of Winchesters, they'd try usin' it as a club. When that Monaghan bloke shot it, did it sort of.. crack up? Fracture?"
She blinks. "I thought that was just how it worked."
"Probably burned up Arkannone's magic first. Never actually seen it fire, but it makes sense."
Missus Gordon-Hewitt is clearly loving her prized possession being talked about like this. I return the crossbow to subspace. "Does the Ace need any sort of special ammunition?"
"No, no. The bullet just creates the violence based conceptual link between the material of the gun an' the target. Probably work with a Nerf dart if you could fit one in an' fire it."
"Against targets that aren't Demons?"
"Don't really know. Your man Sephtian's the fellow to talk to there. Or just shoot something."
"Alright then. Not going to mess you around Missus Gordon-Hewitt: I want that gun a lot. If the crossbow's not enough… Can you narrow down the sort of thing you want from me?"
"It would have to be something intimately connected with the activity of a super hero or super villain. Someone very famous or completely infamous. And there needs to be a story behind it."
If only I hadn't burned Superman's pants. "I.. could.. probably get you one of the original Green Lantern's costumes..?"
She gives me a disappointed look. "P-lease."
I wrinkle my nose. "I suppose a giant Christmas Cake's out of the question?"
00:43 GMT -5
John turns his head to look at her. "Ambrose Bierce? Should bloody hope not. He's a good four inches shorter 'an me, comes from Indiana an' I know one end of a flaming hairbrush from the other."
"I think he's wearing platforms now."
John grins and reaches into his coat for his cigarettes. "Ambrose? Wearin' four inch platforms? Sounds like it'd almost be worth huntin' the little sod down jus' t'see it."
"Please don't. The world does not need two John Constantines in the same place."
Catwoman nods in understanding. "Oh, you're John Constantine. I wondered why people kept calling him that."
John lights his cigarette. "S'small world." He inhales, turns and kneels down, breathing smoke out over the gun where it lies on the floor. He then stays there, gazing into the smoke. The smoke itself isn't magical -I saw him buy the Silk Cuts from a newsagent myself- but he can use it as a self hypnosis aid while he tries to get a feel for the magics in the gun. Appearance is easy enough to fake with magic and we can't really remove magic from the target without the risk of ruining it. "What were you doin' when you met ole Ambrose, anyway?"
"Trying to get some books appraised. There's more fake magic in Gotham than real magic, but after what happened last time…"
John nods. "Looks like a tramp, but 'e usually knows 'is stuff."
Missus Gordon-Hewitt frowns down at him imperiously. "If you're quite finished wheezing soot all over my antiquity..?"
John glances up at her. "Jus' doin' a double check…" He grasps the gun around the breech and stands up, raising it to his eye level in order to better examine the design. Apparently satisfied, he works the lever action and has a look inside. "Moves easier 'an last time I tried it."
Missus Gordon-Hewitt looks mildly offended. "Of course. I've kept it properly maintained. You're satisfied that it's genuine?"
"Completely." He swings the lever shut, points the gun down at the ground and gives the trigger a squeeze. I can just hear a slight 'click'. "Coulda done with this more'n a few times over the last couple a' years, I don't mind tellin' you."
"Hm." Missus Gordon-Hewitt smiles proudly. "I'm glad to hear it. One tries to do one's research but one can never be completely certain." John nods and hands the Ace of Winchesters to her, stock first. She takes it and cradles it like a lapdog. "Not until a prospective buyer ups the price. So." She fixes her eyes on me. "What are you offering?"
I shrug. "What do you want? I haven't brought anything much with me." I hold out my right hand and Sportsmaster's plasma crossbow thing appears. "Something a little more modern, perhaps? The Ace of Winchesters might be a famous weapon amongst certain circles but Sportsmaster has far better name recognition to a modern audience."
She peers at it. "Where did you get that?"
"Santa Prisca. He was trying to purchase a mutagenic compound from the Kobra Cult but wasn't up to fighting a Lantern."
"What did he use it for?"
"Shooting people. I'm sorry, it's a unique weapon but the way it does damage isn't unusual enough for me to link particular kills to it. I mean, you could always ask him. It's not like his visitor slots are occupied by anyone."
"In Belle Reve? At my age? Catwoman, tell him about when Tommy Monaghan used the Ace of Winchesters to kill that demon, Mawzir."
Catwoman shrugs. "What's to tell? One shot at the center of his chest and he burned up."
John frowns. "Haven't heard of a 'Mawzir', though that doesn't mean anything if he's a new kid. Know anything else about him?"
Catwoman shifts uncomfortably in her seat as the playful-sexy supervillain cat burglar persona fades. Fun's gone. She's having to remember something she'd much rather forget. "White skin, ten arms -four on one side, six on the other- and swastika tattoo on his forehead. His… He took orders from someone called Arkannone."
John nods. "Oh, that thing I've heard of. But a Demon shouldn't have a swastika tattoo. Not unless they were possessing someone or tryin' t'wind you up."
"Arkannone… He was trying to recruit Monaghan to be one of his agents on Earth. I was surprised he turned him down, actually."
"Surprisin' where you can find moral fibre, sometimes. And it's always nice to know there's someone out there worse than you, even if it is a Demon."
"Before Etrigan tore him apart, Arkannone said something about having made Mawzir from the souls of five Nazi war criminals."
"Ah, that explains it. Sounds like Mawzir wasn't actually…" John tries to work out how to explain complex arcane concepts to people who know nothing about the topic. "See, Demons, most of them these days… Even some of the really powerful ones, they started out as mortals. Souls damned and sent to hell. Being the worst of the worst isn't enough -though they usually are- but people so full of hate and the need to hurt that they make Hell a part of themselves. Most people, you send them to Hell and there's basically nothing left after a century or two. Some…" His lip curls. "Blossom. But most people don't have what it takes. On the other hand, most people have something like that in 'em. Some crawlin' bit of evil lurkin' in their head they've got the sense to ignore. Five Nazis… I mean, the ones who actually did the mass murdering, not the ones with the clean hands back home in the Fatherland… If Arkannone took the worst out of each of them and stuck it together with his own magics… He'd get something. Wouldn't exactly be a Demon though."
"Then what is it?"
"It's called a Lukhavim. Pretty similar, I'll admit. But there's differences. It's got no independence for a start. No agenda of its own. Arkannone's magic made it, holds it together. He gives it an order, it'll do everything it can to carry it out. Understands the modern world better'an most old school Demons too. It use weapons?"
Catwoman nods. "Handguns."
"Most Demons can't get their heads around that. They go for claws, strength… Magic. Some use swords or axes. They had the Ace of Winchesters, they'd try usin' it as a club. When that Monaghan bloke shot it, did it sort of.. crack up? Fracture?"
She blinks. "I thought that was just how it worked."
"Probably burned up Arkannone's magic first. Never actually seen it fire, but it makes sense."
Missus Gordon-Hewitt is clearly loving her prized possession being talked about like this. I return the crossbow to subspace. "Does the Ace need any sort of special ammunition?"
"No, no. The bullet just creates the violence based conceptual link between the material of the gun an' the target. Probably work with a Nerf dart if you could fit one in an' fire it."
"Against targets that aren't Demons?"
"Don't really know. Your man Sephtian's the fellow to talk to there. Or just shoot something."
"Alright then. Not going to mess you around Missus Gordon-Hewitt: I want that gun a lot. If the crossbow's not enough… Can you narrow down the sort of thing you want from me?"
"It would have to be something intimately connected with the activity of a super hero or super villain. Someone very famous or completely infamous. And there needs to be a story behind it."
If only I hadn't burned Superman's pants. "I.. could.. probably get you one of the original Green Lantern's costumes..?"
She gives me a disappointed look. "P-lease."
I wrinkle my nose. "I suppose a giant Christmas Cake's out of the question?"
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