Beating a Devil (at his own games)
Oct. 31st, 2017 11:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerHappy Halloween!
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Star Trek (the 2009!movie verse)/Constantine crossover
Summary: Kirk puts his plan into action and makes a decision. (This was inspired by one of the recent reboots to the Hellblazer comic [think they called these ones Constantine, but which is which I don't remember]. It started out with a similar situation, and I got really excited because Constantine's a trickster; he's going to pull this off and then he just...did something else not as cool or ballsy and I was very disappointed.)
Word Count: 924
Rating: Teen
Now, where is that spot he’s aiming for…oh, there it is, just a little to the right. Perfect.
“You’re running scared! You could have waited until dawn and spared yourself further pain, but you sought me out! You’ve brought me to a place of more power, which is one of the last mistakes you’ll ever make, pathetic human!” it crows, growing in size.
And he just pulls his bike around and grins. “A portal to Hell is useful for more than just giving you a taste of home. You’re one of those demons that takes souls to Hell, right? Bet you tricked them, and people don’t exactly go downstairs and get rid of all of their grudges.” He claps his hands, feeding his own golden, glowing energy in, and just like that the portal’s open. “Hey, guys and gals and assorted beings, it’s show time! I bet you’ve dreamed of a chance to get your revenge. I’d say saving hundreds of others from your fate, ruining this guy’s day, and making sure he can’t make good on his promises and has to be punished by his superior is a good start. Now, what do you say?”
A hundred ghostly hands reach out and grab every part of the demon within reach. “W-wait, what?” it stammers.
“You lot never learn. Part of what makes you demons, I guess. Tangling with the Laughing Magician just gets you humiliated.” He waves cheekily as it bellows and is sucked in. With a flourish, his magic closes the portal right after it. He pauses to catch his breath, because he’d just used a lot of magic on top of the fire and light he’d tried attacking the thing with earlier and all his injuries. Then he rummages around in the bag until he finds the Magatama, ancient enough, and mutters a spell to keep the doorway closed. It’s adapted, so he has no idea if it even works, but it’s worth a shot, and he feels some sort of power flow through him as he casts, so it did something. He blesses the ground for good measure, which wouldn’t really work too well if he didn’t also have a vial of Catholic holy water on him, too. He’s hardly the type to be a priest, hardly pure or faithful or whatever enough, but maybe, if he uses enough techniques, it’ll be enough. It’s likely that they’d keep it closed, unwilling to go out into consecrated ground; that this Griamach would be tortured long after he was gone for his failure; that the spirits wouldn’t let the demon go; that his efforts, at least for today, have been enough.
It’s just sometimes hard to believe, with all the evidence to the contrary.
Still, it’s good enough. All he can manage, at the moment. He still has to ride back, and being stuck in a constant state of weakness is hardly easy.
He could still run. Make a portal, maybe, and fall into Boyce’s hospital. After his little deal with Starfleet, Pike’s personal physician had taken an interest, too. He could avoid being personally entangled, and it would make it easier to follow Temperantia’s instructions to the letter.
But he’s fairly sure, too, that Bones is a stubborn, stubborn man, and that no matter how many light-years away he fled, fear of space or no fear of space, the doctor would find him eventually. And probably be even more pissed off at the chase, and he has a feeling that the doctor wields a mean hypo that he’d rather not be on the other end of. He’s accidentally given the immortal a reason to live for, and the dumb thing is, he’d created a portal looking for home and safe and wound up in a hotel room he’d only seen once when taking Bones back to his room, which means the next time he creates a portal for the same reasons, he’s likely to just end up wherever the doctor is again.
And he wasn’t kidding, he muses quietly, revving his motorcycle and starting off in the direction of the hospital where McCoy is waiting, when he said he’d try anything once. He’d never had a personal doctor before, rarely even dragged anyone around on his adventures. It’s worth a try, and he’ll have a better job not just loving and ditching with a promise to a Roman goddess to live by long enough to establish a pattern.
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Star Trek (the 2009!movie verse)/Constantine crossover
Summary: Kirk puts his plan into action and makes a decision. (This was inspired by one of the recent reboots to the Hellblazer comic [think they called these ones Constantine, but which is which I don't remember]. It started out with a similar situation, and I got really excited because Constantine's a trickster; he's going to pull this off and then he just...did something else not as cool or ballsy and I was very disappointed.)
Word Count: 924
Rating: Teen
Neither “don’t worry, Bones, I have a plan” nor the smile nor “don’t worry, nothing else it does to me will actually take effect until morning” do anything to convince McCoy that the Magician knows what he’s doing. He’s convinced the demon of the same thing, too, fortunately, after pulling his bike out of the crane bag of Aoife (which was easy enough to retrieve, honestly, he needs to be more careful about that), driving around until he gets the attention of the demon once more and then seemingly aimlessly. Unfortunately, he’s only got power for low-level spells, which means the Ring of Solomon’s right out, even against a mid-level demon. He ignores the taunts of the demon—it’s not particularly inventive, and he’s heard the taunts about his family and Tarsus and Gary enough times before that it doesn’t really phase him. He ignores the phantom pain, because his body’s smart enough it knows it should be in pain but it isn’t, and he ignores the residual weakness from having used too much magic and, well, being stuck in a dying state.
Now, where is that spot he’s aiming for…oh, there it is, just a little to the right. Perfect.
“You’re running scared! You could have waited until dawn and spared yourself further pain, but you sought me out! You’ve brought me to a place of more power, which is one of the last mistakes you’ll ever make, pathetic human!” it crows, growing in size.
And he just pulls his bike around and grins. “A portal to Hell is useful for more than just giving you a taste of home. You’re one of those demons that takes souls to Hell, right? Bet you tricked them, and people don’t exactly go downstairs and get rid of all of their grudges.” He claps his hands, feeding his own golden, glowing energy in, and just like that the portal’s open. “Hey, guys and gals and assorted beings, it’s show time! I bet you’ve dreamed of a chance to get your revenge. I’d say saving hundreds of others from your fate, ruining this guy’s day, and making sure he can’t make good on his promises and has to be punished by his superior is a good start. Now, what do you say?”
A hundred ghostly hands reach out and grab every part of the demon within reach. “W-wait, what?” it stammers.
“You lot never learn. Part of what makes you demons, I guess. Tangling with the Laughing Magician just gets you humiliated.” He waves cheekily as it bellows and is sucked in. With a flourish, his magic closes the portal right after it. He pauses to catch his breath, because he’d just used a lot of magic on top of the fire and light he’d tried attacking the thing with earlier and all his injuries. Then he rummages around in the bag until he finds the Magatama, ancient enough, and mutters a spell to keep the doorway closed. It’s adapted, so he has no idea if it even works, but it’s worth a shot, and he feels some sort of power flow through him as he casts, so it did something. He blesses the ground for good measure, which wouldn’t really work too well if he didn’t also have a vial of Catholic holy water on him, too. He’s hardly the type to be a priest, hardly pure or faithful or whatever enough, but maybe, if he uses enough techniques, it’ll be enough. It’s likely that they’d keep it closed, unwilling to go out into consecrated ground; that this Griamach would be tortured long after he was gone for his failure; that the spirits wouldn’t let the demon go; that his efforts, at least for today, have been enough.
It’s just sometimes hard to believe, with all the evidence to the contrary.
Still, it’s good enough. All he can manage, at the moment. He still has to ride back, and being stuck in a constant state of weakness is hardly easy.
He could still run. Make a portal, maybe, and fall into Boyce’s hospital. After his little deal with Starfleet, Pike’s personal physician had taken an interest, too. He could avoid being personally entangled, and it would make it easier to follow Temperantia’s instructions to the letter.
But he’s fairly sure, too, that Bones is a stubborn, stubborn man, and that no matter how many light-years away he fled, fear of space or no fear of space, the doctor would find him eventually. And probably be even more pissed off at the chase, and he has a feeling that the doctor wields a mean hypo that he’d rather not be on the other end of. He’s accidentally given the immortal a reason to live for, and the dumb thing is, he’d created a portal looking for home and safe and wound up in a hotel room he’d only seen once when taking Bones back to his room, which means the next time he creates a portal for the same reasons, he’s likely to just end up wherever the doctor is again.
And he wasn’t kidding, he muses quietly, revving his motorcycle and starting off in the direction of the hospital where McCoy is waiting, when he said he’d try anything once. He’d never had a personal doctor before, rarely even dragged anyone around on his adventures. It’s worth a try, and he’ll have a better job not just loving and ditching with a promise to a Roman goddess to live by long enough to establish a pattern.
