E.V.A. is down- Hell of a Night

May 10, 2016:

Shot down while adventuring (read: stealing) Fantomex and Satana are cornered by Weapon Plus mercenaries and living weapons. E.V.A. changes herself and Satana… tries to be a hero and makes a fatal mistake. (Scene backdated from a few days ago).

Russian ship just a couple miles from Gotham's harbor

Described in scene

Characters

NPCs: E.V.A.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

It is a cold, cold Saturday night. In fact, it is almost Sunday. And like most Saturdays Fantomex and Satana are up to no good. Only this time it was not their fault, not completely.

The idea was just to ‘liberate’ some jewels from smugglers, there was a large cargo ship with Russian flag coming into the harbor. The jewels were in a container. There might be some armed smugglers, but Fantomex wasn’t going to let them to see the larcenous couple. And really, rubies and diamonds do flatter Satana’s neck.

It was all fun and games until someone shoot E.V.A. down. An air-to-air missile from an invisible airship of some kind. Nothing Russian smugglers should have. ‘I is a trap,’ said Fantomex, writhing in pain as if he had been shot, and not the flying saucer. But E.V.A. is part of his nervous system, so it felt as if he was hit.

And then they crashed, and E.V.A. broke through the cargo ship’s deck and a couple other decks before stopping and breaking apart. Fantomex is nowhere to be seen and the E.V.A. is pretty badly broken. Satana can feel she is still alive, but definitely very badly injured.


Well, a leisure night ended in spilt wine. Let's not cry over it though, (despite it being $1000 a bottle). Okay so maybe a tear is okay. The sudden strike of pain hit through, and the final impact has Satana pulling herself from a wreckage, a single corner of her lip bleeding as fragments are around and upon her, shifting as she revives to motion. Tongue to the corner of lips and blood is swept up, splitting the tip of moist muscle as eyes flutter to opening, even upon the supping of self.

The words muttered forth are those whisper-borne and yet not devoid to those close as a single hand stretched from the wreckage to grip and peel her free. "Cloak, Eve (A name she has 'loathely' given EVA, but fitting). Fantom?"

Name only truncated as the shadows of the hull pulse in rhythm with that of Satana's head.


There is no response from E.V.A. or from Fantomex, which is nowhere to be seen. The technorganic flying saucer is not moving, although some weak streaks of light flare through the cracked hull surface, hinting she is not dead. But she might be unconscious.

But although E.V.A. is quiet, the ship is not. The hum of the engines can be clearly heard, as well as heavy steps and male voices approaching. Flashlights flare at Satana’s left, but there are also shouts, maybe orders, coming from the other side. At least a dozen men are coming.


"Fuck." A single remark from Satana as she pulls herself from the final bit of debris, ripping stitches in the fine dress she had worn for this "simple" event. But thing can be simple with Russians, can it?

But fro the falling threadbare whisps of openings anew that multi-stream of flashlights is met…
From corners, as if periphery is playing games their flashlights distance suddenly becomes smaller, swallowed by a darkness creeping in from the edges, where EVA and Fantomex lay remains shrouded, but what they can see is a woman standing before them now, the tattered bits of dress hanging off voluptuous curvature, the strands holding the front across spanse of plexus and bosom hanging aside. not exposed fully, but the heave of fleshly globes evident.
… Just as much as the blood pooling and spelling from the corner of lips she dared not catch upon tongue as it converges upon the angle of chin. A chin that rises while incandescent eyes stare forward towards the men….

Hands extend to the side, open and unladen with weapons as a sudden lost and forlorn look bearing resemblance of a doe in headlights strikes Satana's countenance. "What did I ever do to you?" Though th every voice seems to resemble an echo of someone long lost…
… her emotion.


The first two men appearing through the shattered hallway are clearly no mere smugglers. They wear paramilitary outfits, armored vests and masks on their faces, the eyeslits glowing pale red.
Heavy assault riffles both point at Satana, red beads of the laser sights dancing on her chest and head. “What the hell?” Grumbles one of them. Not Russian, accent sounds British. “Who are you, lady?” He asks, sounding angry.

A third man appears, he seems older, although wears the same body armor. “What the fuck are you doing? He is an illusionist, shot her… him, whatever! No prisoners!” The other two men take aim and shot.


It does not take much, the minute the men give pause the heat is felt, the claustrophobic moment of a wave of sudden delirium, passion, desire. It will hit them, attempt to take them as the third ushers his orders.

The darkness that lingered at periphery closes in now, a single hand of Satana's rising to dance fingers in a small ripple before her facade, the smile split behind the reflection of brimstone heated gaze where clas dance 'fore.

A flick of forked tongue to taste the air and she steps to the side, a motion that seems almost akin to being drug into the shadows while gunfire heralds and barks, lingering chimes of spent shells upon metal floor.

"Oh I am *all* woman, dearie." Her voice still echoes, but now it bears solidity, less echo and haunting depths. Just above them sigils borne in flame are writ, formed of the air and the scrawl of her claws before a hand bursts through one and grips a man by his throat, her body in its shorn attire spilling from the darkness above alight in the epithets, serpentine before him and the rest as lips seal fate upon lips and the heat only seeks to rise while she dance with one captive.

Making him her living dead (meat) shield.


The first burst of bullets misses Satana, but both men react quickly to follow her with guns, flashlights and laser sights. The third man draws a heavy handgun too, but not fast enough to save his partner. Satana grip is too strong for a normal human, and the man last mistake was dropping the gun to try to dislodge her using his own hands. The other two, however, hesitate only a second before opening fire.

But the armor protects the redheaded devil where human flesh would barely have slow down the bullets. As she draws out the man’s soul, she can feel the bullets impact the dying man, and only one of them grazes her leg.

That was one, eleven to go.


Satana is not stopping though, the sigils dancing above suddenly flare to life, a spark to ignite the fire as her lips part from the mans with grazing impact of the bullet upon thigh.

The parting of lips has the moth balancing upon her lower lip, red wings flaring before she plucks it from lower tier to toss it into the sigils that come ablaze, casting their own glow that haunts the corridor, spilling forth a mist that only grows, forming serpentine scales and bodies of the Hellphyre serpents, ones that she had used before in Gotham to set fire to an abode laden in death and consume for herself. Now…

She will be the cause, and when the man with more holes then swiss cheese is flung from her, it is done so in a force that pushes im towards his comrades and leaves her exposed, all the while serpents imbued with the soul and heelphyre begin to twine the walls and descend upon them.

A single hand falls upon wounded thigh, upper lip withdrawing at the burn before she lunges for another - attempting to sate infernal hunger.


The conjuration of the flame snakes comes just in time, as more armed men converge on the fallen E.V.A. and aim at Satana with high power automatic weapons. The snakes fall on them, and although the armor offers excellent protection from regular fire, they react as one could expect when attacked by monsters made of fire: Satana becomes a secondary concern.

As the gunmen discover firearms are not very useful against beings made of fire, Satana manages to snatch another of the men. This one reacts with a cooler head, though, and draws a combat knife, slashing at the redhead wrist.


Eyes narrow as the men converge upon EVA, a flick of hand and suddenly something surges, warps and presses outward in an arch that suddenly forces anyone standing too close or /over/ the wreckage to be thrown away. Unseen but there is an eldritch shield, a conjuration to protect the fallen allies.

Spinning to snatch another in her grip her focus is only upon one thing anymore. Survival and when the man meets her gaze, it is abyssal, flaming, and the pupils that slice through in their depth are slitting, the roundness of normalcy fading with sudden upward tears of reflective darkness. The slice is felt, moreso the flow of heat afterward when blood spills down and drips from fingertips, fingers that seek to capture her captors wrist and break it.

No, not only in one direction, but any it can be forced to bend even after the knife drops. Seduction is normally the way of the succubus, tempt and dine. But not now, the eyes show…
"Let me taste you…" And if her captor is still close her other hand grips his throat, lifting him and after a kiss that rips his soul from him, leaving him a husk, she hurls him towards the others, a single step to the side bracing her stance to steady her while that wound seeks to heal - in turn upping her hungers ante.


The armed men retreat away from the fire snakes, leaving behind a couple burning corpses. Some are injured, but most are still able to shoot and do so. One drops a grenade, rocking the deck and causing fragments of metal and plaster rain on E.V.A. hull. A couple snakes are destroyed in the explosion, their flame bodies scattered by the shockwave. Then someone brings a fire extinguisher and that proves to be pretty bad for the magical constructs, smothering them even worse water would.


Satana has to focus, a reminder as she feels part of her constructs shatter in the blow, a blow that blasts her back in a manner that has heels biting into the metal hull floor beneath her, but as the emflamed serpents are scattered the eldritch shield around EVA bolsters, the souls from the fallen body rising and coming to the beck and call of the demoness that is croucheed in shadows after the blast.

Darkness but those small moth-like entities cast a low red incandescence around her, one that reveals the heels are no more, cloven hooves surrounded in frocks of ash stained white, rising to just below knees where the tattered dress is but a painting of attire coating her skin and splayed over voluptuous curvature to openings of flesh that serrated open during the explosion.
But one by one those 'souls' flutter to her, landing upon open wounds and ascending in small wing aided hops to lips that part, forked tongue slithering outward to capture them and draw them within. Sealing kissed wounds.

Fire extinguishers may douse her constructs but they will only find to cool Satana's heels as she bursts at them with the sudden opening of leathery wings, appendages that batter outward like weapons where claws cannot face and openly seek to open vital points once they manage to tear through attire. Danker taught her well enough, but she has never put it to true use against militant humans.


The body armor the gunmen wear helps to soften the blows, but some bones break when Satana hits the men. Dark and narrow ship corridors are not good for the large firearms the men wield. Some flee, some pulls handguns and knives to try to defend themselves, but at the end Satana supernatural strength is too much for them.

After a minute of loud shooting and screaming, a relative silence falls on the shattered deck. The voices sound at distance, and there are far less men talking. E.V.A. seems still unconscious, or whatever creatures of living metal do when injured.


Satana did not stop, and for every man that fell, the corpse was ridden of any chance of a soul going further then the lips of the bitch who caused it. At least they did something useful, kept her going and kept her shield in tact, but as it all died down and one lone flutter of illuminating red danced across the darkness it lit up more then the fact that her breathing is heavy. Her wings were riddled with holes, impaled with shrapnel and some deeper wounds across her body healed, but only to that of smaller lacerations that still bled out.

The final soul is plucked from the air and unceremoniously popped past lips, the glow dying as it descends down her throat and spreads. "All for jewels. You have got to be fucking me." She murmurs as she staggers to a slightly more concealed place to 'he loves me, he loves me not' pluck and toss the bits of metal trapped in skin and leathery appendages. Within the shield she thunks back against EVA and knocks on her side rather like a trespasser instead of a friend.
"Okay, nap time over. Ready to go now. Travelled to a new place, met people and killed them." A check mark is made via digit in the air. "Bucket list, right?"


A couple shoots behind Satana announce some of the gunmen are still around and pretty close, but when the redhead turns, it is Fantomex who is there. He looks worse for the wear too, his white outfit stained with blood. "Why chere, E.V.A. is going to be very embarrassed you protected her. She still things you are a bad influence for me. And she usually thinks I am a bad influence for most people."

Jokes aside, he leans against the bulwark, his breathing swallow. "These men, they seem mercenaries. They are good, but they aren't the smugglers or the ones that shot us down. I suspect they are nothing but cannon fodder sent to learn what we can do."


"And here I hought you were in the rubble…" Satana murmurs, the flames she had building up radiated with the pulse of heat that is surging around her. The gunshots had her preparing for round two until Fantomex arrives, but that does not stop her from keeping the temperature notched up, it just did not climb further.

"E.V.A can cope. I don't do the saving people thing normally, so word won't get out. I have a rep to worry about." Using EVA's form to aid in her own pressing rise she stands before Fantomex and presses fingers over bloodstained attire, bringing it to her nose after rubbing fingers together.

"I am all for not leaving any alive to talk, but then again, I also love the smell of fear; and anticipation." Even in part of her she is still a beast, a demon, and the hunt is always the best part.


“Good thing I have no scent,” grumbles Fantomex. Which is maybe his way to admit he is scared. He also winces when Satana touches him. He has a good number of broken ribs and with E.V.A. unconscious he can’t handle the pain easily. “Oh, I was under the rubble, I had to do some digging.”

He limps his way to the fallen Flying Saucer and sighs. “She is healing, but it is going to be a couple hours before she can fly again. Perhaps you should leave now, chere. It is going to be a long night. There are only a few agencies that can sneak on E.V.A. and shot her down like they did. I have not done anything to piss off A.I.M. lately. And this is not Dr. Doom style. Which means Weapon Plus is coming.”


The wings flare out as she finished picking bits out of them, horn laden crown shifting towards Fantomex in acknowledgement of his words, but nothing in response comes yet until her hand extends outward and a single claw taps upon the shell of E.V.A., those eyes at least having slightly reverted to normal, a smoldering brimstone bearing regular pupils.

"I protected both of you then, my shield is still up and will not go down until I leave or remove the cast, or lose conciousness." Le's not say how the more she outputs the hungrier she grows. Good, bring on the company, she needs another entree.

Satana's head tilts and the small smile is touched by the revelation of canines beneath lips. "You're not prey, Fantom. But they are. I'm going nowhere." And in saying as much her arms fold across her chest and she makes her stance with a light lean against EVA. "I wont get in your way, promise."


“You are a real princess, chere,” states Fantomex, no hint of humor in his voice and checking his pockets for spare clips. He lost a few pockets and a good deal of skin, but he still has four reloads… 86 bullets. If that is not enough the mercenaries left a few handguns and assault rifles on the floor. Well, actually it is unlikely he will live long enough to run out of bullets.

The ship lurches, as if something large and heavy had grabbed it, or landed on it. The engines sputter and whine, and grow silent. The ship must be pretty close to Gotham’s harbor, but Fantomex gets the strong impression it will never reach it. “We better move, they know we are here and I am more comfortable if they don’t know where we are.”


Fantomex's lack of humor seemed to fall upon Satana's own inability to give the same in a manner acknowledgable. Instead of seeming wounded she stands straighter and those wings snap back in a display much akin to the unfolding of a peacocks fan-tail. When they flutter down it seems they shift into a cloak that folds over her shoulders. Very much a princess, but one from a realm that does not hold them loftily and out of harms way. No fear.

When he mentions retreat her head tilts, the liquid mane of vitae hue spilling over a bare shoulder as well as nearly pooling around feet shrouded in off-white fur. "And leave them with no fear nor message to carry back on broken lips. I want them to limp back to their master unable to speak, what happened only pulled from their minds… So they can see it all." Claw laden hand folds into a fist at her side and those eyes stare upon Fantomex while the other hand strokes along EVA and then falls away.
"You do not shoot a princess of Hell down and live long enough to tell the full tale. Just the horrors."


“Sounds good,” murmurs Fantomex, even if he is skeptic at the idea Satana can do many horrors to the living weapons that have survived the World training. Then again, an unknown Hell tends to be worse than a known Hell.

He turns to see if he can climb to the upper deck, but moving slowly, lacking his usual grace. “We can, at least, go one level higher,” he mentions. Maybe ambush them on the way to E.V.A.? Not the best plan, but any advantage they can achieve is valuable.

Then he stalls, and tilts his head. “Sacre bleu, she is awake.” And there are sounds coming from E.V.A.’s hull. Grinding metal and crumpling ceramics sounds. Other sounds come from the hallways, though. Metal on metal. Not human steps, more like monstrous insects moving or digging.


Satana watches Fantomex move, but she is loathe to move from her place as it is until the smoke clears. The look from those eyes is predatorial, focused, and like the reflective surface of a panther's own from the darkness in the brush. The glow from them infernal instead of a green sheen.

His words on EVA have that focus shift ever so slightly, but not enough to take down her barriers just yet, as another sound from down the corridors has her facing their direction. Fisted hands unfurl and the shield that has lain invisible to their eyes begins to glisten in a passing glance, but more like burn with the different Hellish glyphs, igniting a path along the ancient scrawl in serpentine motions, all the while those fingers seem to direct the path like a conductor, slowly building their size and the heat that emanates from them.

Satana hated using magic, it took too much focus, but they needed time and protection and she needed to stay contained, herself. But it was only that matter of time she was trying to buy. And it was getting stifling hot in here…


Fantomex slides back down, giving Satana a warning glance and E.V.A.'s a longer, worrying one. The noises from the hallway come closer, fast. A black mass of metal and blades comes out of a side corridor. It looks like an unholy mixture of a lawn mower and a centipede, the size of a rhino and charging like one. Part metal, part animal, or maybe part human. It definitely has a human soul to Satana's senses. It also has two shoulder- mounted chain guns, to Fantomex' senses, which prompts him to run towards the redhead to get her out of the way before the thing starts firing. About now!


I won't apologize, for the fire in my eyes..

The eldritch shield begins to flare brighter, yet darker to her conjuration and ministration - lips unmoving and focus unchanging to keep them shielded so EVA could finish her recovery as well as Fantomex. Let's not speak of her show of charity… constitution as well when the monstrosity reveals itself and charges.

Satana remains unmoving and the exertion shows sheens of sweat along exposed flesh that is not encased in liquid shadows. But when her eyes meet the creatures something takes the light away and bleeds her eyes into black sclera… Knocked from her feet and from her focus there is a sudden inhuman cry from Satana, her skin suddenly hardening and becoming the supple serpentine scales, an iridescent sheen replacing that of perspiration, and shockingly cold as the darkness in her eyes bleeds out in a fall like that of tears, the shield shattering into an explosion of flames that suck in…. Then backdraft towards the beast like a nuclear explosion well focused.

It ain't no rainbow.


The first bullets of the monster's guns ricochet on the shield, but the creature seems uncaring about the possibility of smashing against the mystic barrier. Fantomex manages to pull Satana out of the way in time, but perhaps causing her to lose control of the magic as the shield explodes outwards violently.

The whole ship shudders violently, and the monster vanishes for a few moment in the inferno. When the initial flare fades, the creature wails, still alive but clearly badly wounded. The guns are gone, ripped off its shoulders. Flesh is melted on the metal frame, and some of the razor legs are missing or useless. Soul-burned by the hellfire, it lashes blindly, trying to destroy those who have hurt it so much. Metal pieces, some of them red-hot, fly everywhere.

Fantomex shots his guns, aiming to the exposed inner biomechanisms while avoiding metal chunks and flailing blades. Behind the monster more living weapons come. These are nimble humanoids in black and dark green rubber suits. They are armed with odd-looking guns that fire green light laser beams. Where the beam hits, however, a powerful electrical discharge follows.


The shield is no more, her focus going from protection spells and containment to violence. But it is not all Satana, and that is evident as she rights herself with the intaking of the soul consumed in the wash of explosive flames. Hey eyes remain blackened, and every now an then a faux Magdalene tear of ichor drips along cheekbones to fall along cheek and linger along pale jawline. But he moment it releases it hovers in the air and joins the inferno, adding the uncontrollable combustion into a wall that took on a draconic serpentine shape, but one more menacing as everything it touched cloaked down a ground covering of flames that clouded outward.

There was no control in the attack now, just a hunger beyond even Satana's own, but her personal movements seemed jerky, almost marionette like in the struggle within that still has her fighting on a side, moving to stand a distance from both Fantomex and EVA, lifting from the ground in a sudden burst that jars wings outward to catch some of the shrapnel and slap it down towards the ground if it did not impale the leathery flesh.

"Stay away from my fire, Fantomex…Stay…" A low growl emits from her throat and when her mouth opens the forked tongue lolls forth from between dark stained lips, painting them in a saliva that burns even her own skin, reddening lines around pillows of flesh while canines reveal and a Basilisks contained roar unleashes.

"Back!" A finish to her sentence or a threat to the new arrivals, one that garners the hungry glare before the large monstrosity is abandoned for the ground troops in the unfurling of draconic flame.


The bladed monster is clearly dying, but still hunting and cutting anything within its reach. The first victim is one of the humanoids, impaled through a leg and pulled down, then torn apart by a storm of blades. But there is no blood, and indeed, there is no death, a green cloud emerges from the destroyed outfit, hissing angrily.

More humanoids come down, jumping dexterously over patches of molten metal and descending from the decks above through the hole. The electrolasers flare in all directions. They are invulnerable in their rubber suits, but the metal monster is not, and neither is Fantomex, who manages to dodge a dozen blast before one of them nails him.

That E.V.A. is awake is the only reason he is not knocked out right away. Instead he just stumbles, rolls away and shoots full of holes a couple of the humanoids while pulling back behind some cover. "Satana! Get out of her! Teleport or whatever!"

Then an energy blast burst through E.V.A. broken form, cutting one of the humanoids in two, and E.V.A.'s hull crumbles as if it was only a thin eggshell. A tall woman of liquid metal and emerald jewels flows through the debris, left arm forming a blaster canon and the right mounting a wrist blade the size of a large scythe. She falls on the humanoid contingent from behind, slicking to pieces several of the creatures. Some turn to shoot her, but the electricity seems to have no effect at all on her metal body. "They are highly toxic," she observes, her metallic voice still very much E.V.A.'s. "But only for carbon-based life-forms. Harmless to me." She sounds pretty happy, too.


I promise with a lie…

One of the blasts hits Satana, enough to stagger the hovering form but the wings bearing bits of shining metal within flare out and that darkness in her eyes shows no direction of intent as the large wreath of dragon-formed flame wreathes outward in its own embodiment and direction, but falling on soulless forms that only omit to gas does nothing to feed the infernal hunger driven by a deeper darkness. The roar expands the jaws of the flame-borne but also the maw of Satana that bears quartets of reptilian canines, albeit silenced with another volley of electric blasts that suffice to bring her fully to the ground into a puddle of darkness veiled by wings just as EVA reforms and clears them, taking to the fray.

Once her body hits the ground and lays still the fire falls back, a sudden curtain that seeks to consume in its angry retreat towards the devil-woman, cloaking her like a wave and giving back enough…

"Then end them all." Satana's voice is gravelly from beneath the wings as they flare up and back in her rise, one that has fingers going to lips swollen and burned from her own omission. "I'm not leaving without…" Pausing on EVA and giving the battling lifeform a once over. "Not bad.."

"Without you both." And as she approaches Fantomex she grabs up a honed piece of the metal monstrosity that had fallen and wields it like a blade.

I'm not afraid.


A few more shots and the metal monster stops. Mostly stops. Individual appendages still flail around and will flail for another hour or two. They grew him up to last.

The gas-critters are both alive and soulful, and run (well, breeze) away quickly from the soul-sucking dragon thing. "I am not ending anyone," replies E.V.A., "merely disabling their supporting mechanisms and rendering them harmless." Which she manages quickly, with the help of a few shoots from Fantomex. The creatures, poisonous but unable to wield weapons without their outfits, wisely decide to retreat before Satana can reach them.

"That was quite impressive, partner," notes Fantomex, looking at E.V.A.'s new body. E.V.A. smiles and then goes to help Satana. "Satana… you look unwell. But you protected me. I have to apologize for misjudging you so badly. Please, allow me assist you."


When it is done and the last of her (lack of) control reigns back in her eyes return to a normal, that black scalerae going back to brimstone of flame, and yet inside, the veins of darkness remain in the backdrop, glistening in vein. The grip on the disembodied blade wavers in her grip and the look on her face seems to warp like a ripple over the waters surface, all the while the angry red of skin where everything burned rescinds to just paths of angry red on pale pallor.

Looking from Fantomex to EVA, Satana straightens to a proud stature but still takes a step back as the question and worry in her eyes empties to apathy - hiding. "You did not misjudge me. You are right to have concern my way." A shift of eyes from EVA to Fantomex.

"I should go." But as those words are spoken the final exit of teleportation seeks to take them as well if they wish for a ride off of the barge, otherwise in a sudden leak of darkness, Satana is gone.


Brother Island feels particularly dark this night. And Fantomex barely manages to catch Satana as the devil-woman faints. “What is wrong with her?” Asks Fantomex.

E.V.A. has no answers. Her sensors can’t make heads or tails of Satana’s supernatural biology, much less detect the influence of the Darkhold in her soul. Some regular rest will have to suffice. All the three of them need it.

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