sirenspull_logs | tremble for yourself, my man, you know that you have seen this all before

Entry tags:

crowley,
magneto

tremble for yourself, my man, you know that you have seen this all before

Who: Crowley [

integrity] and Magneto [

magnetic_magpie]
When: Tuesday, March 6th.
Where: Magneto's secret lair.
Summary: Crowley has been a little overly confident. It's time for him to pay the price.
Warnings: Horrific violence, torture, and ultimately, character death.

The dog hadn't wanted to let him leave the house today. Crowley, of course, didn't pay any attention to it. The dog was overly attached and though she had practically sunk her teeth into the edges of his long coat to keep him inside, he had told her to go, and so she had. The hellhound never disobeyed, after all, but as Crowley walked through the streets of Siren's Port, he couldn't help but feel bothered.

He was one of the more powerful beings in the Port, even if he didn't show it. He certainly didn't need his dog to babysit him for a walk through the proverbial park. Right?

Crowley had thought that until he turned down an alleyway, toward a park, and suddenly -- he couldn't move. His power was constricted. And as Crowley narrowed his eyes slightly, glancing down at the ground, he tested his strength -- and nothing. Telekinesis wouldn't work. The strength afforded to him by centuries of hellfire was dampened.

Exactly what would happen if Crowley had stepped directly into a Devil's Trap.

"Ohhh, who thinks they're being funny today," Crowley muttered, turning on his heel to glance behind him, aggravation slowly building as he stared around. He couldn't see the Devil's Trap, but it was certainly there. Nothing else could keep him in place so effectively. "Come out, whereever you are," Crowley called down the alleyway, though his tone was tinged with ice. "If it's one of the Winchesters, I'll have your guts for garters -- or Bobby, truly, you could ask me out in a far less date rapist fashion, this is bordering on rude."

He let the threats fall silent before he began to get truly aggravated.

"Don't make me call my dog, because she certainly won't show any mercy," Crowley said quietly, glancing back around him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Magneto was sitting on a ledge, on a roof top above the ally, almost invisible, due to his powers letting him wrap light and other EM radiation away form him. He'd been following Crowley from a distance for a couple days now. Stalking. He was getting a thrill out of it, if he was honest. Just the hunt. It left him feeling sharp, focused, calm. He really needed calm. The Devil's Trap floated between him and Crowley and he had to admit - he had impressed himself with this. A disk of silver, thinner than a sheet of paper but impossibly strong, with the Trap draw on with iron, about two metres in diameter. If barely had any weight at all.

He didn't answer the call - the threat of calling the dog was a threat not a bluff, and he wasn't in the mood to deal with a Hellhound. He wasn't actually sure if this would work - if he moved the Trap would Crowley have to go with it?

Experimentally, he nudged it forward, gliding silently, just a few feet, slowly.

It was an intelligent move -- Crowley was two seconds from whistling for his hellhound when he felt something pull him forward. The demon removed a hand from his pocket, to catch himself, but he stumbled forward the few feet necessary, dragged forward in his inability to cross the circle. And without his powers, his telekinesis, he couldn't do much of anything save for take the few steps forward until the Devil's Trap stopped moving.

But Crowley was not stupid. And he did not panic.

The Devil's Trap was being moved somehow -- clever. And annoying. Being toyed with was something Crowley most certainly did not appreciate. And so, instead of becoming angry, or wasting more time looking around, Crowley rolled his eyes upward to stare.

... a silver and iron Devil's Trap.

Someone wasn't fucking around today.

" -- how clever," Crowley said in annoyance, sliding his hands into his pockets, eyes narrowed still at the trap, "but fine. Your joke was very clever, I'm delightfully entertained, and a cookie for you and all your friends for trapping the demon in a Devil's Trap, congratulations, now break the circle and let me go before I get angry."

If Magneto had been younger he wouldn't have been able to remain silent - as it was it was a struggle to stay still. He felt the smirk on his face, it almost hurt. This was amazing.

He remembered Polaris, playing with the Sentinels on Genosha while he watched from the window, his darling child glowing brilliant green. Dance puppets, dance! He'd laughed at her then, but scolded her later for her childishness. Oh but he understood it. Because he was so tempted now, to pattern dance steps. Instead he split a length of silver ribbon from the disk without breaking the circle, a thin wire of silver, and dropped it down to Crowley's shoulder height. When he moved the trap three inches to the left, the ring moved with it, and back.

Follow?

The moment the silver descended, the demon froze, and immediately stepped backwards, away from it. He was being toyed with -- and whoever was doing this had an excellent knowledge of what demons could and could not do.

The Winchesters weren't powerful enough to do this, but Hades knows that they would happily give forward the information to trap him into this. Lucifer, undoubtedly, had a hand in it -- teach Crowley a lesson, make him learn his place -- and his fists clenched in his pockets at the thought.

But Crowley was proud -- and Crowley, of all people, did not bend to the will of other people simply because they were bored. If this was a game, then Crowley would play it, and Crowley would win.

He just needed to wait for the opportune moment.

And so, Crowley narrowed his eyes slightly at the strand of silver, and stepped forward, to follow.

The ring gave Crowley room - Magneto wasn't actually trying to hurt Crowley, at least yet.

And if he had gotten most of most of his information from the Winchesters, the fact was, he had spent years with the Romani. Silver, holy water, salt was all standard for demons. Iron for fey - that had been new, but otherwise? He had gotten very little new from them, just confirmations. Lucifer though, had shown him the Devil's Trap. Still, this was mostly all him. He had been very curious, after finding out how similar the demons on the different world were.

And he did have one back home to kill.

Slowly, Magneto rose, silently, to his feet, padding along the rooftop and moving the trap at an easy walking pace. He wasn't hurried. He did wonder if his lingering trail of ozone was going to attract Darkness monsters, or if Crowley would be able to smell it. From several stories up and outdoors he didn't believe so, but he wasn't sure.

Crowley was intelligent and clever - and that, alone, made him dangerous. So he was being careful.

He said nothing -- Crowley simply walked, straight and tall, his hands still in his pockets. To those who chose to watch, it was simply as if he was walking without any difficult at all, but the demon was angry. No, the demon was furious. He was on a leash, being strung along like a dog, and whoever thought this was funny was certainly going to pay for it.

But he kept his calm, instead letting his eyes sweep around, memorizing where they were going, and inside his pocket, Crowley was texting Castiel without looking at his pocket, his eyes focused on his surroundings.

I've run into difficulties.

Someone thinks they're being funny.

It would prove useless unless the demon sent coordinates, which he did not. Crowley had engraved his own ribs with Enochian sigils, in order to disguise himself from the angels, so Castiel couldn't just appear at his side anymore. But if this lead to something dangerous, Castiel would at least know to keep alert.

The NV Network was loud. Noisy. IR and radiowaves and the instant he heard the activity from Crowley's direction he - and the trap and ring walking with him, stopped cold. The silver ring vibrated, tightening just a bit. A warning. But unseen, he simply reached out and killed the device's signal. Completely. No Network service, at all. But he can't do much about the sudden sharp spike of ozone from using his powers so close to Crowley. At least there wasn't any static, but that was as much on him as the fact Crowley took good care of his clothing.

The silver dropped level with the phone, hovered for an instant, the rose again and he started walking again. They were heading towards a blind ally. He knew there wasn't an exit. There was a beautiful wrought iron fire escape over it though.

He stopped when the ring stopped and when it tightened, Crowley scowled to himself. And Crowley, though his power was constricted, pressed against the circle -- a constant chaotic swirling of power attempting to force itself free.

A warning just as much as the tightening. The moment Crowley was free, whoever was doing this was going to face his wrath.

"I'm beginning to lose my patience," the demon hissed, tensing at the feeling of power, the sudden smell -- his eyes narrowing slightly as he memorized the feeling of both. But all the same, Crowley kept walking -- until he realized that the circle was still maintaining itself and by the looks of this alley and the fire escape, it wasn't going to be anything good, he abruptly stopped walking and withdrew his hand from his pocket, snapping his fingers neatly.

And, suddenly, there was a snarling at his side, outside of the circle -- a bristling hellhound, massive claws digging into the ground as she pushed herself forward.

"Find whoever is doing this and rip out their heart," Crowley growled. "Save their soul for me."

And the hellhound immediately padded forward, teeth showing as her hackles rose, to hunt Magneto down.

He felt the push back, which was fine. He was actually completely fine with it, crouching lightly on the top of rail of the ironwork.

The dog was a surprise. Not unexpected but a surprise. She couldn't cross into the circle - that was good to know. Worse case, he could mirror the trap on the top of the disk and stand there, and be safe.

On the rooftop, to the left, where he had been walking before moving to the ironwork a sheet snapped, all crisp and dropped. It was a soft grey colour, nearly, nearly white, woven but made of silver. He didn't touch the dog, but he blocked her path with it.

Growley was an intelligent dog, but she was still a dog -- and when Crowley said to do something, she would do it. And so while the blanket of silver caused her to stop, she snarled at it, moving forward to test it experimentally with her nose -- and it sent the dog backwards with a yelp of pain, the flesh hissing with a burn as she circled backwards, snarling angrily at the wall.

The demon didn't say anything, but he immediately raised a hand, to calm his dog, his eyes fixated on the wall of silver. This had just gone from annoying to potentially dangerous. Silver int his world had, he thought, been relatively rare, but here was an entire wall of it, and it was aimed at both him and his dog. And while Crowley was certain he could endure an attack of silver and iron, he wasn't about to torture his dog pointlessly.

The dog, however, had other ideas -- and when Crowley moved out of her line of sight, Growley immediately moved forward again, but turned away centimeters from the wall, her fur and tail brushing against the silver, hissing and crackling at the negative reaction, a snarl of pain emanating from her, and the demon stopped in his tracks again.

"Stay," Crowley said quietly, loud enough for the dog to hear -- but then he raised his voice, his tone rough and furious. "I hope you realize that while this game is extraordinarily entertaining to you, I've lost any sense of humor I once had," Crowley snapped at the walls of the alley, "and if one strand of fur on that dog's hide is injured in any way, shape, or form, I am going to make your life an eternal hell."

And the way Crowley said it -- the anger behind that one word -- he meant every last syllable.

He abhorred torture. Unless it was necessary.

He backed the blanket up, once he realized, yes, Growley was going to run into it. And kept it back. Magneto might not have liked the dog - or dogs in general - but he didn't desire to hurt her.

Near by, a copper pipe rattled and broke loose, spinning into threads, soft a silk strands but millions of times stronger. He lifted it over the edge of the sheet and let it spill over, hooked the copper into it and puffed it out. There was a buffer. It was still a barrier but Growley shouldn't get hurt.

He had other plans. This wasn't the end all of his plans, but he didn't want to have to deal with the dog. He'd wait, until Crowley sent her off.

Against the blanket, like someone pushing against is with their finger, like writing in sand, letters formed and stayed.

Send her home. No reason to risk her, correct?]

He let his eyes move to the blanket, his eyes narrowed as he read, before he curled his fingers into fists.

"Should I send her home, you're going to have an extraordinarily pissed off angel on your doorstep," Crowley said icily, "and my warning holds the same for him as it does for the dog."

The demon stepped forward, right to the edge of the ring, speaking directly to the wording.

"You do not want to have me for an enemy. Stop the idiotic games and release me, because this is the only opportunity you're going to receive to save your hide."

Why pull anyone else into this at all?

Magneto wouldn't hurt Castiel. But he wasn't going to detail that.

I can wait until you decide.

He was comfortable where he was, secure and safe. Crowley might very well be able to lash out at him later. The Core did throw a hiccup into these kinds of things, but he wasn't looking to drag others in. Castiel especially.

"The two of us managed to open Purgatory, do you honestly think we couldn't handle an arrogant pissant like you?" Crowley snapped in irritation, turning on his heel toward the other edge of the ring -- because now he was agitated. This was more than just a stupid trap and a stupid hunter, this was more, and that sounded like a very thinly veiled threat. "Choose your own health and sanity over this idiotic game before I rip out your heart with my bare hands. Now."

How are you going to accomplish that?

There was the dog - true - but he was more than capable of using the fire escape to box them in. The threat may normally be a very good one - he would admit to being worried about it - but for right now? No, he wasn't. At all.

The words spilled out of his throat in a gutteral snarl.

"I'm the king of fucking Hell."

And on the last word, Crowley shoved outward with an immense amount of power -- and though it was constrained, trapped by the sigils and warding, the ground shook, for the barest moment -- a split second, no more, and no less, and Crowley curled his fingers into fists.

"I'm not a fucking foot soldier. Let me go, let my dog free, and I'll consider not sterilizing you."

So you keep telling people.

On the rail, Magneto didn't much reach. He used to have to deal with Avalanche. He wasn't concerned.

A foot soldier would hardly be worth the effort, Crowley. Your dog is free to go. I'm only going to protect myself from here attacking me, nothing more.

He pulled the blanket back, giving them more space - and threaded out the silver line, to give Crowley more room.

Crowley was silent, at that, his mind calculating his options. He couldn't break out of a Devil's Trap of silver -- only Lilith could ever be capable of such a thing and seeing as he was not Lilith and the demon was not here, he was helpless to do anything but continued forward.

But that wasn't necessarily true. No -- Crowley was smart, and he began to pace within the ring, seemingly agitated and upset, but in actuality, he was only giving the dog the opportunity to see him. His hands were in his pockets, clenched into fists, but subtly, he began to move his fingers against his thigh -- tapping. Tapping. Tapping. And for a split second, the dog stilled, before resuming her snarling at the blanket -- and suddenly, Crowley stopped pacing, anger and frustration ripping out of his throat again.

"Go home, idiot," Crowley snapped at the dog -- and Growley immediately backed down, pressing her stomach against the ground for a moment or two as she whined. And the tiny moment of disobedience caused Crowley to snap at her again. "I said go!"

And at the last snap, Growley abruptly teleported away.

Leaving Crowley very much alone.

"We move forward or not at all," Crowley snarled angrily at the wall, like a caged cat faced down with someone they most certainly did not want to touch.

On the inside, though, Crowley was perfectly calm.

The dog knew what to do.

As soon as Growley was gone, he removed the blanket, folding it midair, the copper separating, and draping the blanket over another rail. No where near him. He started weaving with the copper together into cuff. It floated over to the blanket, and a small part ripped off and bonded with the outside. The it went the blanket's previous spot on the roof and a tiny pen - iron metal, verses ink - floated up and drew a copy of the Devil's Trap on it. Then he floated it down to Crowley, hovering in front of him expectantly.

It was going to be a lot easier it this worked. If not, try again another night. In this, he was patient.

His eyes watched the pen, the Devil's Trap being formed... and when the pen hovered in front of him, the demon scoffed to himself, incredulous.

"Up yours, mate," Crowley said irately, staring at the pen as if it were a person. "You aren't branding me like I'm an animal."

The thought made rage bubble in his stomach.

The pen and cuff shrugged. Crowley's choice, as least for now. And the remark amused and pleased him. He would have said the same.

In that case, Magneto simple picked Crowley straight up - keeping nearly three metres between him and the floating trap, and the blanket, pen, and other supplies lifted to the top of the disk, resting there. He alighted from the rail and set to fly. He didn't know how Crowley would take to his his fast speed, or to what he was about to do. He felt the tug, the pull down of gravity, and then the push-snap-hurl as he cut it. The planet continued her rotation on it's axis and orbit around the sun, but they were free of it for the microseconds it took to reach the industrial sector, building near were Sectors 10, 8, and 11 met, a rooftop to a building that had intact Darkness proofing.

When he felt himself lift, Crowley immediately pulled his hands out of his pockets to balance himself, hissing several curses to himself. The sudden speed and movement was disorientating, but Crowley himself teleported on a frequent basis, so he wasn't all that bothered as he set down on a rooftop. He immediately looked around, though, to catch his bearings, and recognized some of the buildings, placing himself mentally on a map of Siren's Port.

Close enough, anyway.

The Trap moved towards the door on the roof, towards the door, ushering Crowley inside. He wasn't walking, he was hovering, not willing to revel himself - or what he was showing anyway - yet.

Nor was this building linked to him in anyway - but he did have it Hellhound proofed. It had used every single bit of the store Michael had left at the HoA when he'd first showed Magneto how to do it, but it was worth it. And he could pick more up later, if needed. Between his housemates puppies and Lucifer's, he was giving up.

no subject

no subject

I AM SO RIDICULOUSLY FUCKING HAPPY YOU DON'T EVEN.

AHAHAHA I LIVE TO SERVE.

THIS WAS THE BEST IDEA.

<3333

Re: <3333

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject