The end of the Conrad [forward timed to 12pm]
[OOC: Party/disaster thread! Make threads for pre-destruction leading into destruction, during the destruction, and post destruction. Timey wimey, etc. Obviously, if you're under the rubble, you're only going to be near a limited number of people]
The city of Chicago had no idea that the Rift preshock that occurred earlier in the week was only an ( Read more... )
The city of Chicago had no idea that the Rift preshock that occurred earlier in the week was only an ( Read more... )
If Jo had known today was going to be one of those days, she wouldn't have gone on one of her fruitless job hunts--not the job but a job because a restless Joanna Beth is a dangerous thing. She would have arrived earlier (later, would it have really made a difference?) and she would have made sure she had her shot gun with her.
None of these things happen. It's one-thirty when Jo returns to the hotel, to find there isn't any of it left and in its wake, utter chaos. A monster--unlike anything she's ever seen before in size and disfigurement--charges toward her in heavy, thundering steps. It's not a demon. It's not something she can salt and burn.
It reaches for her in one swift move, a scaly hand snatching her by the neck. Jo's breath catches in her throat, fighting it every step of the way. It lifts her high into the air, before tossing her back to the ground an impressively far distance away from it.
She's attempting to get up, certain it's going to come after her once more.
It's a curious thing, time. Sooner or later you run out of it.
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It hasn't helped.
Half the Organization's leaders have just vanished; Adam has vanished, and Aaron is in Russia, and she's been suppressing minor factions vying for local control until the rest of the true Factions can pull their heads out of their collective asses enough to work out what's happening now. It's enough to drive a girl batty.
She's walking through the old archangel territory when the Conrad comes down Pressing, or perhaps just testing, her luck.
And as luck would have it, though she wasn't thinking of monsters when she set out, there's a veritable cornucopia of things to vent her frustration on.
The thing thundering after Jo is larger than most things Leona's gone after alone, but her bodyman's trailing at a distance, and she's angry. Her wings come out, mantling and clawed, and she grabs a chunk of cement and lobs it at the beast's head. Then another. Then the next thing that comes to hand - a twisted length of rebar - and she charges at it with a growl.
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The beast's confusion gives Jo plenty of time to drive her fist into his face, bashing its face in.
She's got a mean right hook, Jo Harvelle, and she's not afraid to use it.
The grip around her neck lessens, and Jo drops to the floor in one fell swoop.
Jo picks herself up again, chest heaving. She recognizes the woman immediately, eyes taking in the wings in stunned realization. She doesn't give herself much time to wonder about them.
First thing's first. "Please tell me you brought ammo."
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Her wings flex, clawing the air reflexively. Honestly, most things she can take care of with the strength in her arms, the claws on her wings, and whatever weapons her enemies happen to be carrying. This is a bit larger scale than the trouble she usually finds on the streets.
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Jo kneels down, picking up the gun and the knife he left behind. She tosses the pistol at Leona, considering the fact the furry sonuvabitch is closer to her than it is to Jo.
Jo twirls the knife in anticipation, stalking closer and ready to draw blood. "Doubt we'll be forgettin' any time soon," she says in a near growl of her own.
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"Honey, I'm liking you more every time I meet you," she says. "Now, way I see it, there are people to be dug out of this clusterfuck. but no one's doing any digging so long as they've got monsters breathing down their necks."
Which is basically an invitation to an outright killfest.
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When the going gets tough you bring in your best crew. The way Jo sees it? That's her and this hunter right now. Jo uses her elbow to knock away a furry that attempts to pounce at her. She finishes it with a dropkick and a solid punch to the nose.
"Drinks are on me afterward," she tells Leona in answer. Invitation accepted quite readily.
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And then she's charging across the rubble toward a clutch of angries that came through in a group, pausing just long enough to line up two shots and take down one which had peeled away toward a digging team.
Team Huntress, three. Chicago... a hell of a lot more than that.
Leona has no issues with evening the score.
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It staggers, and Jo drives the knife into its chest, twisting it once it's fully plunged in.
"No one touches my knife," Jo lets out in a low voice, moving up to stand beside Leona and survey how many are left, and how many each can take on.
Jo's the kind of gal that not only evens the score, but tips the balance in her favor.
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She downs one with a quick bullet, and then there are two more on her and at last three swarming Jo. Her wings snap out as she ducks and turns, disembowling one before the third of hers gets its claws in her back and draws blood.
Dark, black blood.
The cut smarts but it's not deep, and another roll has her shoving it off into one of Jo's monsters, bringing up the pistol again.
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This is not an angel, however. Jo doesn't give herself any time to react to the alternative because there are monsters to fight and right now they're on the same side. Self-preservation dictates she file it away for later.
Jo rolls over on the scorching ground to snatch up a ragged piece of wood and metal. When she jumps back to her feet she's simultaneously shoving it into the third monster that clawed at Leona's back. The metal is long enough it also plunges into Jo's monster as well.
Gotta love multitasking.
Jo brings herself back up to her feet, placing herself back-to-back with Leona, feeling that's the smartest position to take to give them a vantage point.
A red-eyed, four-legged creature slinks its way toward them. It looks like a hellhound but not quite. Jo's dealt with enough hellhounds in her day to spot 'em like a pro.
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"Come on!" Leona howls. A few more monsters circling around the rescue teams look up, weighing this threat to their newly-acquired territory. "We're taking all comers today!"
One, scaled and spined and the size of a doberman, bounds toward her and leaps only to be met with a flash of wing and claw. It falls to the ground, belly opened, and then Leona's back-to-back with Jo again.
"No one is turned away!"
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"Pick on somebody your own size, you prick!" Jo shouts, a rock thrown its way to call its attention. She's picking up whatever she can from the ground at this point, using it to strike and then as always, returning to her former stance against Leona.
A long telephone wire is used as a whip, the scraped metal parts are used as words, and Jo takes the beatings as they come but she doesn't once let up.
Breathing heavily, she half-turns to the side. "How many are left?"
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Leona's taking damage, but demonic strength and speed and the sheer blood adrenaline of a Rakshasa seeking kills means she hardly notices. By now her bodyman's caught up and seems to have noticed the game she's playing - he's running interference, herding monsters toward her when she runs out and intercepting them when she's busy.
"Just tell me if you need to take five and get a drink. Could work up an appetite with this dance."
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Or, she was, but suddenly there's an incoming herd that's over six monsters. Leona's already busy with hers, and Jo doesn't think she can take them all. She won't have to, since a man with huge wings steps in front of her.
It's Julian Cuevas. He's bended on one knee, one sword on either hand slashing through the monster's middle sections. They split in half, rolling to the floor with their acrid wails blending with the sirens. The guts splatter on Jo's shirt, and she doesn't blink.
He tosses them one of the swords, gives them a short nod, and then he's back in the fray.
There's a gash in Jo's leg, and she barely notices it. "Keep 'em coming, Chicago," she says, using the steel to slay the monsters herded their way. It's not a shotgun, but she can wield it well.
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"One more for Adam," Leona snarls, as she smashes in a previously-uninjured one's skull. And then, quite suddenly, there's a lull.
She looks around. The Rift above them is still fluctuating, spitting angrily as though it'll toss something out, and fighting is still going on across the area. But for these few seconds, nothing's coming at them, and even her bodyman is standing off at a distance, looking from side to side to find a monster that hasn't been claimed by anyone else.
Leona is breathing heavily, skin flushed, fingers curling around the rebar. "Seems a bit early for an intermission," she growls.
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