Mexico City

[jean_loring]

The apartment is old and the neighborhood is worse, even for this place. Still it serves as a shelter from the shitstorm the kicked up. The first few gangs trying to muscle her over now serve as a warning to others. Strong fences make for good neighbors and all

Comments

[sand_hawkins]

The emotional, psychological, and physical beating he had taken had worn him down to nothing. He was strong...for awhile.

Now, he was a plaything. He dutifully crawled towards the Enchantress.

[sabaac]

The front door opens and in it's wake comes a reek rarely experienced outside the netherrealms. Akin to a grease fire in a septic tank, the smell is nearly as unholy as the one it comes from.

Dressed in a very stylish custom made three piece suit comes Ishmael Gregor, the most recent possessor of the power of Sabaac.

"Hello, anyone home? I hope I'm not intruding..." he sees Sand Hawkins crawling on the floor before an idle Enchantress.
"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything." he leers.

[jean_loring]

The Enchantress snaps to attention, her hands ablaze with cold fire and magic forces mounting in the room. The demonic power invested in her univited gurest is daunting. Fight or Flee, that remains to be seen.

"How dare you!" she snarls menacingly.

[sabaac]

He holds his hands up.

"Easy! I'm not here to fight you. In fact I'm here to offer you a chance to move up in the world."

He looks around in the slum apartment slightly aghast.

"far up from the look of things."

Turning his attention back to the Enchantress he levels his inhuman gaze upon her.

"Money, power, a nice big piece of revenge. How's that sound?"

[jean_loring]

Her defenses remain at the ready and a teleport waits at the tip of her will, but she lowers her blazing hands and regards the earthly devil cautiously.

"I'm listening."