 |
|---|
Social
|
| Players |
|
|
Factions |
|
|
Music |
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W1Q0fkR6tFk&index=4&list=PLBV3KfnKmrdIAtcPHlfWbEPkMJrIaRhNj
|
Dean and Angel prepare for the epic battle to come with dozens of Devil Traps and Rocksalt pepper grenades, as advised by Lance earlier. Dean receives validation in the form of someone listening to him...and witnessing the ridiculous amount of things that went into making that idea happen.
5/21/2016, 7:00 PM
Hyperion Hotel San Francisco
The Hyperion Hotel[]
The lights are on, illuminating the area.
The California-Spanish building known as the Hyperion Hotel was built in the 20s. Through the cast iron gates from the sidewalk is a small front courtyard with a rectangular fountain and a mythological figure holding a bowl from which water flows. Greenery frames the walls and a large set of glass double doors open into a high ceilinged lobby. Dark red carpet descends the four steps to the lobby floor and climb the two sets of stairways that lead to the second floor. The green marble floors are accented with wavy red inserts, as are the walls have a complimentary red border running their length. A set of doors identical to those of the entrance lead to a small enclosed garden.
Cream-colored pillars line two sides of the room, holding up the second-floor balconies that look out onto the lobby and creating arches. Underneath one of them is a large plate glass window that looks into the hotel office - now used as the office and nerve center of Angel Investigations. Nearby, there's a wraparound counter with dark wood paneling and a top the same color as the floor. Behind it are filing cabinets and a pair of desks pushed together. A navy blue circular couch harkening back to a 50s design sits near the back of the lobby. A large wooden, glass-doored cabinet pushed up against the wall holds a large assortment of weapons.
Outside, it's raining and cool.
Angel was starting the preparations for tommorrow. First, he'd learned about Rock Salt. He'd actually had some clever ways of delivering it, putting it in what would be 'pepper grenades' used by certain martial artists in Japan. Making those...and dozens of them...was time consuming, but Angel wasn't getting any older. Meanwhile he was also trying to set up Devil Traps. Like with the rock salt, he'd be setting up dozens of these. If not all of them got used in the battle, great. Extra defense for later. But he figures, in his line of work, there's no such thing as too many of them.
"That's a lotta devil traps."
Dean's been around for hours already, pitching in. "You expecting what, the apocalypse to beat down your door, man?" He wipes his brow with the back of his arm and stands up from the latest of the traps. "What d'ya think? It has a certain...je ne sais quoi to it, don't it?" It's obviously a joke, although if his brother were here, he'd probably be surprised that Dean even knows the phrase "je ne sais quoi", much less what it means.
"Downside to being a Champion. Apocalypse is always beating down my door. But no. This time, it's...kinda because of your advice, a month ago. You told me in a pub, once, I didn't have to live this way. So I'm not. Not anymore. I rallied practically everyone good in the community to fix that Curse I told you about. And my enemies are taking it...badly." So yeah. Everything evil is going to be a very uninvited guest tommorrow.
Dean chuckles, at first, and then it starts to sink in. This is because of him?! He turns his head slowly, then moves the rest of his body to face in Angel's direction. "Wait, for real? You seriously..." It's not clear which aspect affects Dean more: that he was listened to, or that something actually came of it. "Well hey. Hope it turns out for you then."
Angel nodded, "The witches you sent me to deciphered how to fix the Curse. They're going to, unfortnately, have to trigger it before they can use a new spell to seal the soul permanently. So I won't be participating directly in the battle tommorrow. Because I'll have to be locked up and chained and bound and a few other things, for the safety of, well, everyone."
"Yeah?" Dean looks happier and happier at this new information. "That's pretty great. I mean, not the chaining up and everything. Unless you like that. Not judging or anything." He opens up his book again and takes the supplies to another location, to create another devil's trap to be concealed. "So, you lookin' forward to that?"
Angel shakes his head, "The part where I'll be the Scourge of Europe again? Not even a little bit. The part that comes after? Yeah. I'm looking forward to that part a lot."
"Yeah, not the crazy monster part." Dean waves a hand, before putting the brush back to the floor and continuing, very carefully, with his work. He's not really the most artistically inclined, so it's a feat of heavy concentration for him. "Nobody wants the crazy monster part."
Angel is something of an artist, so the traps he makes do have little pieces of his artistic flourishes involved. Most such flourishes look vaguely Gaelic. Well, hey, he's Irish. "No, they don't. That's one of the reasons why everyone got together for this. Nobody wants the crazy monster. The other is because as me, I've got a ton of friends who want the best for me."
Dean smirks, a thin, almost smug smirk. Almost. But those who know him would know better than to believe that about him. He's not really smug -- as much as Sam might believe otherwise. At least, not most of the time. "Yeah. Good to know who your friends are. Good to have some friends you can count on. Keep 'em close."
"You have a lot of friends yourself, don't you. Oh, I meant to you ask. I talked to Lance a while back. He said something about Bobby Singer having some kind of weapon? Do you know anything about that?" If anyone knows, should be Dean here.
That makes Dean almost mess up what he's doing. He manages to recover from the fumble before he ruins the design of the trap, but he definitely is jostled out of his former satisfaction. "Uh...who's Lance?" Standing again, he stretches lightly. "Yeah, Bobby's got about a bajillion weapons. You wanna narrow it down a little bit?"
"He's a full on demon, of the variety you're used to, but apparently he's neutral in the greater scheme of things. Apparently sells drugs, usually. Still, he's the one who told me about rock salt and demon traps. Anyways, I was asking about something that'd kill demons outright, and he mentioned Bobby specifically." So Bobby must have something that'll work.
"Yeah, I wouldn't mess with that." Dean looks almost offended at the topic, though exactly what part he doesn't make clear. "Keep your eyes on your fries. You got other things to worry about for the moment. Anyway, the whole thing's...complicated. This stuff is your best bet."
Angel, amazingly, listens again. "...If you're hesitating, there's probably a good reason for it." Though such a tool WOULD be nice, it may also have unwanted consequences.
"Look. You're a..." Dean trails off, narrowing his eyes and setting his jaw before picking up again. "You're a *different* kinda guy. This kinda thing...you end up hyperfocused on one at a time and meanwhile they're gonna run you over like a tidal wave. We're talkin' tsunami tactics." He gestures with the brush, before he realizes he's slinging little drops of paint everywhere and stops himself. "It ain't worth the aggro. Just fend 'em off and they'll go away."
Apparently, the weapon isn't something that someone like Faith could just swing around in a grand melee then. Must be something more focused. As opposed to the Slayer Scythe, which works fine for grand melees or single combat as needed. "Well, this is your field. I'm too used to other varieties of demons."
Dean seems almost stunned by the deference. It's uncommon to him, but he takes it once he manages to digest the reality. "...right. Yeah. Well anyway, I hope this'll help. I got a hungry dead around Sacramento and there's somethin' that looks like zombies up in Oregon."
"I thought hungry dead were zombies? Or were you talking about ghouls?" Then again, not all zombies were hungry. But that was off track. "Hadn't done the research yet. If we weren't so busy I'd put Wesley on it."
"No, man. You gotta get up on your lore." Dean doesn't even look up, continuing the curved line until it reaches a point where he can combine it with another design and make it all look nice and neat. "Hungry dead are...look, you better just concentrate on what you're doin'. That can't be easy." He knows it isn't, from what he's doing. "We still got like...thirty more to go. So hop to."
"Good point. We can research all that stuff on...Monday. Or Tuesday. Depends on who shows up...afterwards." Could be any number of people, but he's hoping for one in particular. The Traps Angel's been doing still have those little Gaelic flourishes, here and there, with Celtic designs when appropriate.