2015.09.12 - Demons: Snot Our Fault

**Emitter:** Spike

*A night out turns into a snotty battle!*

September 11, 2015

San Francisco

Night is falling on San Francisco, and for all intents and purposes - all seems well. In the downtown and market district, streets are hardly 'quiet', even if they lack the chaos and energy usually attributes to them during the day. Coffee shops and the like are still open, and have begun their stretch of 'evening entertainment' -- namely, small bands and other entertainers come to perform for patrons enjoying cappuccinos of varying qualities.

Outside one such cafe, a bleach-blond man puffing on a slender cigarette - and wearing a full-length, black leather coat - swaggers down the street as though listening to music. In his pocket, his cell phone buzzes and he draws the device out.

"What? Yes, I'm here. No, I can't see it. No - no, oh bloody hell. Dont you think I'd know a psychotic Fyarl demon if I saw one? Plus I'm thirsty. Call you back... y'ponce."

Mick emerges into the area. An LA boy for most of his life, and having just recently having to deal with one of the biggest threats Vampirekind has ever faced, he has no idea how in the hell he got to San Francisco. Were it not for the fact that Josef has always owned some property out here and all, he's pretty sure he'd have been clueless as to where he even was by now.

River Troy hops off an eastbound city bus, dressed all in black and with a backpack on one shoulder. "You didn't have to come, ya know," he grumbles to his younger cousin, as he pulls a colorful flyer from a jacket pocket and unfolds it. "I'm just going to a coffee house to listen to a band. It's not like I'm sneaking into a dance club or anything." He pauses on the sidewalk, eyes suddenly alight. "Hey, think we could sneak into a dance club? Because that would be awesome!"

"Y'got a light, mate?" comes a voice from just by Spike. He's Irish - Dublin and vicinity from the sounds of his brogue. He's also dressed oddly warmly for San Francisco in late summer - specifically fingerless gloves. He has a cigarette of his own, but apparently he can't find a lighter.

 He pauses for a moment and considers Spike. His nose twitches. "Shit. What're the odds? How many of us are in this bloody city anyway?"

Lucas Troy rolls his eyes at his elder cuz. He took a breath though and concentrated, in his general vicinity things just seem calmer, and more soothing. Okay truthfully he projects calm instinctively as an empath especially when he's with his cuz. He says, "Sure if you want to explain it to Grandmama." He grins at the response to that and just walks along, he really came along to get some inspiration, though being a bodyguard was a backup function, the little guy might not seem like much but he could pack a punch if needed.

Pausing to watch a nearby bus unload its passengers, Spike tucks his cell phone away and turns around at the sound of someone addressing him. Lifting two fingers to his lips, he withdraws his cigarette and exhales a cloud of smoke into the evening air.

Then he gives Mitchell a once-over, with an arched eyebrow. He can take a hint - and to prove, the English vampire looks heavenward and rolls his eyes at whatever deities might be watching... and joking at his expense.

"Bloody hell, another one?" he exclaims in his Londoner accent. "Please tell me we're not dragging sods from all over the bleedin' planet now, are we?" His frustration notwithstanding, he still offers his cigarette lighter to the other vampire...

And that's when he notices Mick St. John's appearance.

"Bugger."

Mick frowns, checking the map on his iphone. He's still not sure what the hell happened or what he's doing here. His ears however, do pick up on Mitchell, Spike, and the others. He looks up and gives them all a curious once over.

*Years of being a Vampire means that you pick up a certain sense about whether or not people around you are watching you. In this case, I got the distinct impression the blonde was definitely giving me the eye. Exactly why, I couldn't say.* Inner monologue done for the moment, Mick happens to notice the two witch boys. "Hey, you know a good shortcut over to Fifth and Main?" he asks, not caring which of them replies.

"Cheers," says Mitchell. He takes the lighter, lights his cigarette, takes a drag and tosses the lighter back to Spike. "All over, yeah. I was in Bristol. You?" He takes a deeper breath and squints at the blond vampire. "We're not exactly the same, you and I. Well, aside from the fact that I've got better hair." He smiles. It's a pretty warm smile, despite the rather sassy comment. He's not paying much attention to others at the moment.

River Troy shudders a bit at Lucas's comment about their grandmother. Actually, he shudders quite a bit. "Okay, so no night club...this time. But someday, we are definitely gonna find a way to sneak into one." He pauses to glance at his cousin, nose wrinkling. "Or maybe you better not even try. You couldn't pass for fifteen, let alone eighteen." But then Mick is asking directions, and River gives him a brilliant grin. "Hi! Wait, did you say Fifth and Main? I...I'm not sure Fifth crosses Main. Do you mean Fifth and Mission?"

Lucas Troy stays quiet for the most part, though he'd been about to reply he'd just make a door if he really wanted in a club. He shrugs though and stays quiet and beside his brother, he honestly doesn't know his way around town much just the bus stops to the parks, he looks at people and statues for inspiration a lot. He keeps his soothing aura up and includes the new person in it, flashing his cutest smile at the person as he shrugs indicating he doesn't have anything to say about the matter.

"Better hair?"

Spike gives Mitchell a long look, lips pinched together so tightly it makes his face even more gaunt. He tucks in his chin, peering up at the other vampire with palpable sardonicism and repeats, "Better hair?" Catching the lighter, Spike puts it back in his pocket, and motions with his cigarette-holding hand toward Mick - who at present is speaking to a pair of... kids? He smirks at Mitchell - apparently not all that offended by the little jibe.

"Look, 'ere's another. You can always tell - something about the face. And the scent. That 'bugger me, where the bloody hell am I?' thing. And there're kids runnin' around - and a demon on the loose... I don't get paid enough for this bollocks."

"Yeah could be. Completely new to the area." Mick says. And it's true. He's only ever really been in San Fran a few times, and never for very long. He does note the odd sense of calm around him. *Huh. Okay this is new. Whatever that kid's doing, it's not normal. But I don't smell any hint of decay. Not a Vampire, then.* Then he notices they happen to BE on fifth and mission when he spots a nearby street sign. "Huh." He checks his map again. Then points to a nearby coffee house on said map. "That wouldn't happen to be on this block, would it?" he asks them.

River Troy leans a little closer to Mick to see his phone's screen, then flashes his sunny grin again. "Hey, that's the coffee house we're looking for!" he announces cheerfully, holding up the band flyer. "The Lone Gunmen're playing tonight. They're an Eighties retro band, just like mine, except they get gigs and stuff." He points down and across the street to the cafe in question, grinning again. "Are you a fan or...." His voice drifts off when he catches a little of Spike's conversation, eyes widening. He glances to Lucas then, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Did he say there's a demon on the loose?"

Mitchell just chuckles and takes a drag from his cigarette. Amusement dances in his eyes. "Hey. Don't feel bad. My hair is bloody fantastic. It's pretty hard to beat, especially if you bleach the shit out of it. I know the eighties were fun and are sort of hard to let go of, but seriously, man." He pauses for a moment and looks at Spike a little more closely. "But you kind of do make it work. I give you credit for that."

 He glances around, then back at the blond vampire. Expressive eyebrows arch. "Tell me about it. Unsupervised children at this hour. I feel like I should be responsible, but I can't bring myself to care. Call it the bitterness that comes from advanced age." A beat, "Besides, I'm too busy babysitting my own kind right now." And with that cryptic statement, the Irish vampire starts to move off. Without looking back, he throws up the horns at Spike and heads off down the street, into the night.

The aura lessens, though truthfully no one should be able to tell its coming from Lucas. He allows it to lesson and his hand balls up as he looks around scanning faces for trouble. He doesn't say anything else though eyes locking on the one who mentioned a demon. Using powers in public is a major problem, but if there's trouble he's ready. He narrows his eyes a little going from little kid hyper to solemn.

*Yes. Yes he did. And that's bizarre. I think I may have run into somebody on a cult trip. Hypersonic hearing can be a blessing and a curse sometimes.* Mick heads for said coffee shop. This should be, he supposes, an interesting situation in any event.

Spike gives the Irish vampire a sneer as the other turns to leave, then - once Mitchell's back is turned - the sneer turns into a lopsided, sardonic grin. "It's like... 'me', but 'not quite bleedin' superb enough to really be me'," he murmurs to himself and then drops his spent cigarette to the pavement and squashes it.

"Now, I just have to - "

**Thud. Thud, thud, thud. Thud. Thudthudthudthudthud...**

The sound comes from down an alley that separates one cafe from another, lying just between Spike and the trio of River, Lucas and Mick conversing just a short distance away. Spike, looking crestfallen, breaks into a run in the Troys' direction, waving his arms in a 'get-out-of-the-sodding-way!' gesture -- just as a seven-foot tall, horned demon comes bursting out of the alleyway and collides with the bleach-blond vampire. The demon - a nasty, burly thing with mottled brown and gray skin, yellow eyes, tusks in its maw and curved, ram-like horns on its head - carries Spike out into the street, within just a few feet of the Troys and Mick.

*....I've been known to be wrong on occasion.* To say Mick is stunned is nothing short of an understatement. His enhanced senses tell him that no, this is not a hllucination. He may not know what the hell that thing is, but he knows it's damn well not -friendly- and he moves to intercept Spike, not wanting him to possibly get hit by a car. Luckily, there's enough shadow here that his vampiric speed isn't quite noticible by ordinary humans.

"What the hell is that thing?" he asks the other Vampire, not yet aware he's met a whole new take on the species he once believed he knew everything about.

River Troy squints his eyes in Spike's direction, scrutinizing the man, at least until he starts running toward them, waving his arms about. Instinctively, his hand falls onto his cousin's shoulder as he starts to take a step back, but then the demon comes barreling out of the alley, and River panics. Without thinking, without even trying, he's suddenly engulfed in a swirling cloud of glowing white orbs, which quickly spreads to encompass Lucas as well. The two cousins vanish for almost twenty seconds, just long enough for the demon to carry Spike past, and then the orbs appear again, fading to reveal both River and Lucas in the exact same place they'd disappeared from. Blinking in surprise, River's wide eyes look to his cousin, as he digs into his backpack. "What kinda demon is that? Did you bring any general vanquishing potions?"

Lucas Troy doesn't really do potions. He doesn't need them. He's a bit astonished by his Cousin's sudden power but.... Bigger things to deal with. His cousin might think all he uses his powers for are calmness and art. But that's far from the truth. To start with he forces his empathy to shut down, deciding calming this thing won't be much help. He runs forward so he's only a foot away from the monster, Then consntrates, And the very earth, or rather in this case bricks and concrete beging to moved almost as if melting upwards and begin to encase the thing. Normally this would be easy, but its much harder to work with man made materials than natural ones. He grunts, "If you can Keep it still I'll Encase it in the ground for a while." The kid is definitely grounded.

"SOD OFF!!"

Spike bellows in anger - and a little pain - at the demon as it carries him past the bystanders toward the street. The creature's sudden appearance is violent enough - not to mention *loud* - to attract plenty of attention from motorists and pedestrians nearby.

Most of whom start running - or driving - away as fast as they can.

Spike has just enough time to spot an oncoming car, his countenance falling with dismay, just as the other vampire - Mick - speeds him out of harm's way. The car, too, manages to barely avoid the demon. Spike takes a half-second to check himself for any missing parts, and blinks at Mick.

"Uhh, so. That happened."

The Fyarl monstrosity fails to realise that its quarry is longer in its arms, and takes a deep breath - just as bricks and concrete begin to encase its legs. It sprays a veritable torrent of green slime all over the road when Spike would have been, had he not been saved. The demon roars. It struggles against the ground closing up about itself, just as another car - this one carrying three passengers, all teenagers - hits the slime and skids out of the control toward the two Troys.

"No kidding." Mick says. "You wanna tell me what the hell we're dealing with here?" Then he notices the car skidding. "Oh great..." *Not good. How do I manage to help them without them noticing what I am point blank?* Vampires have shared their secrets with a few humans before. But this might be too much too quick. Then again, those kids are about to slam into the kids he was just talking to before....

River Troy drops his backpack at his feet after extracting a slim tablet. Tapping the screen, he mutters, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good." Yep, he used a lame Harry Potter spell to protect his electronic Book of Shadows. Kids, right? "Demons...huge, ram-like horns...Hey, I think this is a...." He calls toward his cousin, taking another step back as the earth begins to split and mold itself around the demon. "Fyral demon! Low level foot soldier, very strong, not too bright. But it can shoot a paralyzing snot out of its nose. Ew, gross! Oh hey, they're vulnerable to silver." He drops to his knees and starts rooting around in the backpack again. Fortunately, the sound of squealing tires catches his attention, and he looks up just in time to see the car skidding out of control toward him. "Oh crud!" From his crouch the throws himself toward Lucas, grabbing his ankle just as the glowing orbs appear to whisk them both out of the way. Ten seconds later, they reappear again, in the same place and positions as before, as the car continues to slide along.

Lucas Troy shakes his head and looks at his cousin, "Okay Thanks for the save but stop doing that it s hard to concentrate! Oh yeah... Okay I remember them... Too bad there's no silver nearby at least none that I can feel. Then need to breathe though right?" As he says that he focuses again, this time on making the earth swallow the thing's head as its feet are tangled up enough. He also tries something he hasn't tried before. He tries his empathy on a demon, while melding rock over the thing's mouth he tries for an extra dose of mellow. He focuses all his emotions into a wave of such calmness he hopes it'll help to stop the thing form breathing or at least from struggling for a moment.

The demon's roars grow muffled as more of the road and sidewalk rises up to encompass it; its arms are the last parts of its body to cease movement, leaving it standing there in a pose not unlike Rocky Balboa at the end of a match...

Crossed with an irate housewife (if she were seven feet tall, and had horns).

The car carrying four teenagers slides straight through the space where Lucas and River had just been standing, crashing into a now-vacant cafe. The collision is more or less without injury, having been slowed by a dozen or so aluminium chairs (now mangled) and light, ply-board tables (now splinters). It hits the counter, knocking over the espresso machine and coffee grinder.

It rains coffee beans into the open front passenger window, and all over the people therein.

Much swearing ensues.

Bearing witness to all the mayhem outside the cafe, Spike purses his lips tightly in thought, then walks up to the 'statue' - rather, he struts. "Nice trick, there," he tells the two Troys, and withdraws what appears to be a silver dagger - its blade about eight inches long - from a sheath at his back, under his coat. "I came prepared," he tells Mitchell with a smirk, and then taps the trapped demon's form.

"Now... This is my favourite dagger - I'm not stabbing concrete with it, no matter what it's holding."

Inside the encasing concrete, the demon makes muffled noises - oddly calm (or calmer) noises, than before. Perhaps this is the work of an empath? Or maybe the creature is just feeling very sorry, right now.

*Well, at least all the kids are okay....*Though -what- the Troys are right now he's not entirely sure. "Seriously, what the hell just happened here?" Mick asks Spike as he follows along. if that thing gets loose again, he's going to snap it's freaking neck.

River Troy blushes just a bit as he sits up again, giving his cousin a sheepish sort of grin. "Sorry, I can't always control it," he offers weakly, then goes back to rooting in his backpack. "Ah ha! I knew I had it with me." He pulls out an ankh, about six inches long, on a leather thong, just the sort of thing a flakey New Ager would wear. "It's pewter, but plated in silver. Think it's enough?" But as he looks toward the demon, he sees Spike already has a much better weapon, and River lets out a small sigh of relief. And disappointment, since he no longer has an excuse to speak directly with the blond hero. Dropping the necklace back into his pack, he slings it onto his shoulder and glances to Lucas. "That was pretty awesome, Cuz. You're getting really good at that. But maybe make an opening he can stab the demon through?"

Lucas Troy looks a bit tired, okay really tired, but he's actually not looking as if he's exerting himself as hard any more, once the thing stopped struggling, it became much easier. He Looks over at spike, and doesn't question it for now. He concentrates a minute and there's suddenly a hole in the concrete for easy stabbing, right at the things neck. "IF you'll take care of it I'll dump the thing in the sewers or bury it deep enough that it won't be found for a while, then put everything back to normal?" He was gritting his teeth. I mean he is only 13. He smiles at his cousin, and nod really glad he doesn't have to stop and make a silver plated knife in the middle of the fight... He could... but he'd rather not. "You do realized... You're probably carrying me home after this right?"

Spike glances over at the two younger heroes, then at the hole that obligingly appears in the 'statue'. He doesn't quite look surprised - he's been around enough magic and magic-users - but he hasn't seen *kids* wielding it in a while.

His gaze shifts toward Mick.

"Well...," he starts to reply, slowly. "This... I'm pretty sure is concrete - among other things. Inside the concrete is a demon - Fyarl breed, like the kid over there said - " and he points with the dagger over at River. "Hey, what are you two bites doing out at this hour, eh? There's a - " and he slaps his hand against the side of the 'statue', failing to notice that it is starting to crack. " - bloody demon in here!"

He turns back to Mick, shaking his head. "Kids this century...Oh. Right. This is San Francisco, and... since you look a bit 'displaced', it's because there's something magical about you. We all - " and he motions again to the two Troys, " - got our collective arses dragged here by some hocus pocus I won't even PRETEND to understand, and now... so have you. Even this poor sod."

With that last line, Spike slaps the 'statue' again, grinning firstly at Mick and then at River and Lucas -- at which point the Fyarl's arm breaks free, swings sideways and clocks Spike in the side of the head. The dagger goes flying (as does Spike, sort of), both landing over by the two young witches. The next part of the demon to break free is its horned head, and it takes another breath in order to spray Mick with paralyzing snot...

That would be a bad thing. Mick, as it happens, has had a fair share of insanity in his life prior to the displacement. As a result...he carries a silver stake in his jacket. Having seen and heard what that crud does to people, he darts behind it, and does the most logical thing he can think of. Eyes turning silver, fangs and claws extending, he roars even as he moves to try to slam the silver stake into the back of the Fyral demon's SKULL. He may not understand exactly what's going on, but anything threatening innocent people has an enemy in Mick St. John. *Okay, this crap's going to take a lot more explaining than this, but if these guys are used to supernatural stuff..I guess the fangs are probably not gonna faze them much.*

"Hey, my arse was born right here in San Francisco!" River says defensively. A moment later, he realizes what he just shouted, his face turning three or four shades of red. But then Spike is flying one way, the dagger another, and the demon is starting to break free from its concrete prison. River's eyes follow the silver dagger, and a moment later, he dives toward it, though he has no shot at catching it before it hits the pavement. Fortunately, Mick has things well in hand, so by the time River comes running back, things seem to be well in hand. Flushed and breathless, he looks toward Lucas again, just to be sure his cousin's still standing.

Lucas Troy curses under his breath at all the happenings. He grumbles that he forgot to keep the thing calm but frankly doesn't have the concentration to do both at full strength. He grunts and as soon as the thing starts to break free, the pieces don't shatter more like it poked holes in wet clay that sealed itself. He huff and barely even notices Mick other than the silver stake. Instead he grits his teen and walks closer so he's touching the statue directly instead of working form several feet away. Okay that's MUCH easier. He starts to slowly push the thing into the ground for real this time, but goes slow enough to make sure that Mick, or someone kills the darn thing. He is sweating profusely by this point. Why in TV shows does magic look so easy?

Braaaaaiiiins!

At least, that is what sprays forth from the demon's head - mostly missing St. John as he plunges the stake into the creature's head, effectively ending its life. Its body still half-covered in concrete, tar, bitumen and brick, it slumps forward at the waist and remains there.

Twitching.

Nearby, a few onlookers lose whatever they had most recently eaten.

Spike doesn't see the death-blow, but he hears it well enough - including the Fyarl's dying roar. The vampire's face twitches in a mixture of disgust... and sympathy for the beast, and then he shifts his attention to the Troys. "You morsels really oughta watch your mouths. Why, if your bloody mothers could bloody hear you using bloody words - like 'arse' - they'd be bloody... oh, who'm I kidding? I sound like someone's bloody mother."

Lying on his back on the sidewalk, he looks heavenward and glares. "Angel, what the bloody hell have you don't to me?"

By now, this section of the street is more or less clear of anyone else. Cars, people, stray pets... all have pulled back, either to get out of harm's way, or to avoid having to see (or smell) the dead Fyarl demon. Within the crashed car, one teenager is spitting coffee beans while the others are already leaning out with their cell phones to take photos of the Troys, Spike, Mick and the Fyarl.

"Freakin' awesome!!" one exclaims to River and Lucas.

"Dude!" another yells at Mick. "That was sick! - you savin' the other dude!"

Meanwhile, on the ground, Spike glowers darkly.

Mick retracts his fangs and claws, eyes changing to normal the split second the stake makes contact with the thing's skull. The less people can pick up on what he really is, the better. Easy enough to just play some stuff off as a trick of the light, or an adrenaline surge or whatever. Backing away from the corpse, he makes his way over to the other three. "I think our coffee's gone dark. Let's get outta here." he says to his fellow non-humans. Though he's STILL got no idea what Spike is, at the moment.

River Troy, satisfied that the demon is down for the count and his cousin is safely tucking it away underground, gives a hard shudder as he looks at Mick's unholy appearance. Fangs aren't generally the sort of thing the good guys have, and yet this demon(?) delivered the death blow to the snot monster, so.... But wait, what about the hot blond Brit? River hurries over to kneel beside Spike, his face filled with concern. "Are you okay, Mister? Do you need an ambulance?" He shoots quick glances to Mick and Lucas again, pushing to his feet and offering a hand to Spike. "He's right, we gotta get outta here before the police and stuff show up. I dunno if I can orb all of us though, I'm still really new at all this."

Lucas Troy is making sure that the street looks exactly as it did before, Down to the pattern of the bricks being the same as the demon vanishes from sight. Then he grumbles as he keeps pushing and looks up at the onlookers grumbling as he HATES using spells, "This demonic fight no human did see, Allow it to fade from thine memory." He doesn't looks up to see if it worked. He continues to straighten up. Then continues, having no idea if the ancient spell will work on electronics, "This demonic fight no camera did see, it shall fade from thine memory." Then he promptly falls flat on his face.

"I - " Spike goes to answer River Troy, only to stop talking as Lucas falls over. "I just need a sodding drink - *that* guy needs the ambulance. And probably a decent night's sleep." He pauses, still lying flat on his back. "Good work with the magicky..." and he lifts his hands to make a 'spirit fingers', 'twinkle twinkle' gesture, "...tricks."

Eventually he takes River's hand and stands up, then brushes himself off and gathers up his dagger at the same time. The blond vampire glances over at Mick and lifts his chin in acknowledgement of the other immortal. "Thanks," he tells Mick with a nod, and he purses his lips again in quiet contemplation. "I think we could all use a drink - non alcoholic for you," and Spike glances at River. "I know a place where you can stay for a bit, too," he tells Mick. The name's Spike, by the way. We should talk... but over a pint o' something either thick and hot, or cold and bubbly, eh?"

*...I get the feeling I'm gonna need explaining about a lot more than the thing with the horns.*Mick raises a single eyebrow. "Let's go with bottled. Or least animal-based." Mick says to him at a low enough volume nobody who shouldn't get that they're all supernatural/paranormal can hear them. He moves to pick up Lucas and nods as he throws him over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. "Let's get a move on."

River Troy lets out a small, lovesick sigh when Spike actually TOUCHES HIS HAND! Once the vampire is on his feet, River blinks dreamily at him a few times, then turns to see his cousin facedown on the pavement. "Oh my gosh!" he exclaims, hurrying to Lucas's side and rolling him over. "C'mon, wake up, Luke! I don't have any healing powers yet." He lets out a small whimper, then glances mournfully in Spike's direction, and finally back over to Mick, who looks human again. And then Mick has hoisted Lucas onto his shoulder, and River follows along, tapping his cousin's face a few times. "Wake up, wake up, wake up. Grandmama is gonna kill me. Where're we going?"