Emitter: Booster Gold Players: Doctor Fate, Sand It is a restless evening. You've been turning all night until finally slipping into sleep, sudenly out of nowhere you see an Axe, it comes down and down and down and blood flies. The scene is strangely trying except for the continued movement in the dream of the axe, suddenly you see the axe again and then a floating symbol which looks like an Oriental fan. Suddenly you are covered in blood which seems to choke you. Blood is everywhere and as you trudge through teh blood you see the blood is all in the middle of the street and the street leads down and alley and as you look up on a sign you see that you are aparently in Harlem. You wake and you see the sheets are covered in sweat . it's only 11 p.m. Gasping for breath as if he really *had* been choking, Sanderson sits up suddenly, waking all at once. This has been happening more and more often recently, he thinks, this isn't good. He sighs, after getting his breath back - sighs and stands up, running his hands through his hair. Going back to bed is not an option: there's no way in hell he could ever find sleep. Harlem, the sign had said in the dream. Slowly, he goes about getting dressed. Khaki. Boots. Gun belt and holster. Dark sweater. And...ah, the hell with it. Gas mask. Tonight is a quiet night, you were performing a few spells practicing when the room begins to bend. The walls stretch inward and beofre you sit the lords of Order. "Fate. You will go to the place called Harlem. There is something there that disturbs the balance between the Lords. Find out what it is and deal with it." Dr. Fate blinks as he's returned to the Tower. That was a new one. Nevertheless, work to be done. He pauses for the briefest of moments to listen to the spell the helmet whispers to him, and disappears in a flash of white light, appearing at his destination with a matching flash. His golden cloak swirls about him as he floats in mid air about three feet off the ground. It is chilly here in Harlem. There is a terrible feeling, almost forboding foreboding. You can feel a sense of evil in the air. As if it can be felt. The wind swirls around your cape and you sense there is something terrible happening in a nearby building. IT appears to be calling you.. Calling you..toward a building marked 777 Brewster. There is something there.. Parking his aging Monte Carlo several blocks away from where he'd dreamt he would be, Sanderson quietly holsters his wirepoon and his gasgun, and makes sure he has the extra vials of the sleep gas he'd made. He locks the car, pockets the keys, and slings the mask around his neck, available for easy use. Only then does he begin to walk up the street, brim of his hat shading his face. He looks for anything even remotely out of place. Suddenly the first thing you notice is a building labeled 777 Brewster above the door appears to be an engraved symbol of crossed Axes. They are strangely the same as those that you saw in your dreams. Flash! you see the Axe. Flash.. The doorway. Flash! something in you tells you this place is familiar. Deja vu all over again, right. Sanderson rubs at his eyes tiredly, still shaking the last vestiges of sleep from his head. This shouldn't happen, he thinks to himself. I'm not Wesley's blood relative. Just Dian's. I shouldn't be dreaming things that come true; I shouldn't be here, there won't be anything wrong. Just coincidence. But...but something tells him that he should listen, that there isn't any room for coincidence. He walks up to the door, hesitating. Before you can change your mind the door opens and a strange wind lifts up around you chilling you.. The hall before you is empty and there is a long passageway of doors... which seems to go on and on . To your right the first door is open.. Suddenly you see someone approaching. IT appears to be someone Wes used to talk about It looks like Fate. Just as he's about to step inside (against his better judgement), Sand catches that flicker of motion in his peripheral vision - someone's coming. He spins, making sure his back is to the doorjamb (and not the open door), then his eyes widen as he sees the costume. "Kent?" he exclaims, remembering to keep his voice to a whisper, but still loud enough for Fate to hear. Dr. Fate raises an open hand, shaking his head slightly, "Kent and Inza Nelson rest peacefully. I'm the next generation." He lowers himself to the ground, to allow him to see Sand eye-to-eye. "But I -am- a friend, believe me on that, and unless I'm mistaken, we might have some mutual friends." He chuckles softly within the helment, a very odd sound from Dr. Fate. "That or you're going to get sued by Wesley's lawyers for copyright infringement." Hmmm, this guy is definitely -not- possessed by some Lord of Order. The scene pleasent enough but as Fate speaks to Sanderson he sees a flash of light in his eyes. "You have business Fate. Do your duty." Sand gives Fate a dubious look, pulling the gasmask up so it's on his head, but not covering his face. "Right," he says very quietly, "but since you're here, I'm guessing my dream wasn't just indigestion and too many Hong Kong action flicks. Let's talk later." With that, he pulls the mask over his face and secures it, then puts his hat back on. Another gust of wind rips through the hall whipping up under Fate's cape and spinning it about him. To sand it seems like the touch of ice on his own skin and the hall seems to bend inward and Sandy sees theis as if reality is actually beinding. Above one of the Gargoyle's actually looks at Sandy and it's eyes actually glow a sinister red. Sandy is the only one who sees this. Acid trip anyone? Sand pauses. He *knows* he didn't do anything to himself that could cause this. He also knows that someone dressed like Doctor Fate - who, by the way, knows about the original, and about Wes - is floating around, so this is probably reasonably likely. Accepting it thus, he thumbs his nose at the gargoyle and proceeds indoors. To your immediate left and right are two doors and the hall stretches down leading to a closet and a set of stairs. Dr. Fate steps forward, raising a hand as he passes through the doorframe and sending a basketball sized globe of light down the hallway. He glances to his left and right, still listening to the whispers from the helmet, then waves his hands in an odd pattern, casting a spell to try to pinpoint the malevolent presence that infests this place. For a brief moment a glowing ankh superimposes itself on his forehead as the spell takes effect. Glancing over his shoulder at the good Doctor, Sand tenses as the globe of light passes him, then frowns slightly under his mask. Weapons drawn, he goes about investigating this his own way: cautiously and physically. He looks into the first door on the right - the open one - keeping the wall between his body and any potential agressors. Suddenly the glowing Ankh Shatters and Disperses.... "You don't think I'll let you get me that easy, do you Dr?" "Who is your stupid friend, I shall enjoy eating his bones as well. LEave now and I may spare you. The Lords can't even do their own dirty work. "(For Fate: This is a Familair Voice. It leads backwards in your memory..You have heard this voice before.) (for Sand: okay this is creeping you out.) Dr. Fate takes a step back, shaking his head, "That was....strange." He tries to figure out where he's heard that damn voice before, or if it's just the helmet whispering to him again. "Guess we do this the old-fashioned way." Eyes narrowing and face tightening behind that welcome mask - it's been so long, but it feels right to wear one, even if this is different - Sand remains silent. He won't be goaded that easily. Sure, it's creepy, but he's seen his share of weird stuff. I mean, you hang around with people who dress up in funny clothes and other people who call themselves Doctor Fate and Doctor Occult, and you sort've get used to the arcane. He looks back at Fate, and you can hear the grin in his voice: "That's the way I do things best." The Glowing Ball shatters. "I've prepared for you and others Fate. There are Certain Rules. No light. I don't like it. Maybe your little friend has a flash light. Eh? HA HA HA!" The windsweeps through the area. blowing up your capes and you actiually notice now for a second that the door to the left has a blood stain on it." Dr. Fate peers at the doorway, certainly not pleased with the prospect of what may lie beyond. Nevertheless, he reaches forward with yet another spell and attempts to open the door, taking a step back to allow him some more time to react to whatever unpleasentness may lie beyond. Ever wonder why the eyes of that gas mask of his are red? Technology's a fantastic thing, folks. It's allowed Sand an advantage his mentor never had: night vision. He reaches up to his temple and depresses a hollow in the mask there, and whammo, instant infrared. Now...since there's blood on the outside of the closed door, and the open door is directly across from it, it's only reasonable to surmise that the source of the blood could be just inside the doorway on the right. Sand signals to Fate that he's going that way, then does so - just to check it out, you see, while Fate's occupied with the left door. There are faint heat signs in the room and the first thing that Sand notices is the blood is still warm. All along the floor are bloody footprints. The psycho apparently has his shoes off. In the corner sits a dead old lady, her throat split from ear to ear. The wall is covered in blood, which spells out the message, Do you like my art? (ooc thought it'd be good to fix my mispellings.) Dr. Fate grimaces underneath his helmet, "This is sick....." He turns and glances down the hallway again, "Someone, or some-thing- is going to pay for this." He turns to the other door, peering inside as he calls another enchantment to allow him to see in the darkness. "Yeah," mutters Sand sarcastically, gazing at the wall, "that there's some real fuckin' innovation. Bastard." He looks across the floor, just checking to make sure the footprints don't head into some corner, then shakes his head and exits the room. As Fate chants to himself, Sand silently thanks the march of progress for his less-detectable-than-magic equipment. He, too, looks into the door on the left. as the Door opens suddenly blood starts to fall from the doorway. You look up and see that this sick bastard has drained a few bodies and set the blood up to fall once the door opens. It misses any target, but on the wall is written another message: I said do you Fucking like it? Okay, damn, now you have Sand playing along. Now you've got him hooked, that interplay, even as sick as this is - that interplay gets him every time. It's irresistable. "So now we're art critics?" There's a terrible laughing coming from the closet. HA HA ha ha ha!!! Dr. Fate raises his hand, "Be careful......" He (silently) weaves yet another spell as it is whispered to him. This particular effect being an invisible, nearly skin-tight force field that Sand may feel as a slight warmth against his skin as it enfolds him. "That should keep you protected for now." Cocking his head slightly, Sand looks at Fate in a sort of irritated surprise (unreadable, naturally, in the same way that the Doctor's expressions are). Now, though...now is *not* the time to argue. It would only make it that much easier for the psycho to take them down. Sand's not happy about it, though. Silently, setting his jaw, he takes a capsule out of a pouch on his belt and kneels before the closet, breaking it open and flicking it under the door in one swift movement. the Door starts to smoke and you don't hear anything for a few seconds. there appears to be some sort of bumping sound going on inside it. Dr. Fate nods to Sand, moving opposite the door and waiting for a few moments. For once, he ignores the incessant whispering, letting Sand take the lead. He can't let himself become too dependent on the damn helmet, and now is -not- the time to start randomly firing off spells. Sand kicks a cushion on front of the door, effectively blocking off the last source of oxygen. If this guy's human, then man, is he ever out. There's a terrible laughing coming from the closet. HA HA ha ha ha!!! Sand looks at Fate, shrugging silently. He gestures to the door as if to say, 'Your call now, bud.' Dr. Fate nods and weaves a spell to cause the wooden door to dissipate into air, readying one of Nabu's famous ankh-bolts in the back of his mind for whatever may spill out. Sand grimaces. "Fate...hold your breath, willya?" Dr. Fate says "Taken care of." "Damn good thing," mutters the ex-sidekick, getting ready to go on the defense. The Door dissapears and sitting inside the closet is a another body hanging by what appears to be it's own Intestines. Tied around his body is a a tape recorder which rolls for a bit and then plays, "HA HA ha ha ha!!!" Behind his body on the wall. You haven't answered me yet? _Do_ you fucking like my art? Sand rolls his eyes, throwing up his hands in disgust. "/Man/," he exclaims, shaking his head, then looking around the room again to see if he can pick up a heat trail - in the air, in blood on the floor, maybe... Yes, it appears that the heat trail ends on at the bottom of the stairs. the perp, apartenly wipes his feet and headed up the stairs to what appears to be a door at the top." Dr. Fate turns about, silently uttering a prayer for the souls of these poor victims. He feels the need to put these ghosts to rest, and knows that he can only do so by bringing this monster to justice. He glances over at Sand, "Can you make out a trail?" "To a point, yeah," answers Sand distractedly, looking from the bottom of the stairs to the door at the top. He points to the bottom, glancing back at Fate. "It ends there, but unless he's a teleporter, the only ways to go are up and back, and he wasn't there in the room with us." He pauses. "Okay, I'm feeling brave." He heads up the stairs. The door at the top of the stairs is apparently locked. Etched into the door appears to be what appears to be an Ankh. The symbol eteched into the door. there appears to be blood, but it is a few days old, so it didn't register on your mast. The same cryptic message style written there in the middle of the door. Got Magic? There is also the faint smell of Lilacs coming from the other side drifting towards the hall. "Cute," mutters Sand, trying the door. He doesn't smell the lilacs, though. Can't, through the filters. the door opens to a room that is covered in blood. There are numerous Candles burning and in the center of the room is what appears to be a nakeed man, he is covered only in a few tattered Cloths and he wears what appears to be a gold collar. His ear is pierced and scarred into his chest is what appears to be seven horrible scars which almost look like a fan. Flash. Sand sees the image of the fan. Flash the man's chest. In the center of the floor in blood is some kind of terrible pentagram. Dr. Fate pauses as the helmet starts 'freaking out' at the utterly black arts being practiced here. Fan Man says, "Don't look so shocked Nabu. AS if you are much better. Remember me. Remember me?" Sand takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. "Right," he says, for lack of a better action. He looks at Fate - this is totally his bag. Sure, he dreamed about it. Sure, it's wrong. Sure, he came, he's here. But! But. It is utterly and completely fucked up on so many levels, magic included, which makes it Fate's jurisdiction. He's more than happy to play backup, here. Dr. Fate shakes his head, "I'm not a Lord of Order made flesh. Not anymore." He pauses as though listening to something again, "Nabu speaks to me, and tells me you're called Raza." He takes up a cautious stance, uncertain of what this...thing is capable of, and wondering what the hell his connection is with Nabu. Fan Man looks at Sand then back to Fate. "I warned you. I told you to leave. How could you? You let them do this to me. You let them punish me. I did it for you. And then you threw me into a dark hole to Rot. But my time has come and the world shall quake within me." Again, he can't resist. It's like an addiction. Compulsive. "Who writes your dialogue?" asks Sand, shaking his head, baffled. "Claremont?" Dr. Fate listens again, shaking his head as Nabu explains Raza's tale to him. He opts for reverse psychology, "I...am sorry, Raza. You were always loyal to me. Let me remove your pain and send you to your deserved reward." He puts on his best 'authority' voice, and taeks up a much bolder stance, suddenly appearing larger than he actually is. Sand suddenly gets hit with the metaphorical 'common sense' mallet and backs into the shadows, shutting up. Fan Man says, "You love me? Realy, Oh Master. Then do something for me. Kill this smart-ass little shit and join me.. where you belong, where we can be together always. My love?" Dr. Fate glances over at Sand then back to Raza, "So much for that idea." He raises his hands at the figure and unleashes one of the wide ankh-shaped blasts at him, actually casting that particular gem without prodding from the helmet. He's been practicing, after all. Sand tilts his mask up over his head, taking his hat off and sticking it in his back pocket. He scratches his nose and says laconically, "Hey, man, people keep telling me this is the nineties, after all." He doesn't elaborate, but watches the fireworks with interest, and leans against the wall. The Blasts lance outward from Fate's hands straight at the Fan Man but dissapate in mid air. "Do you think me Stupid Nabu? You have proven to me your disloyalty, which is why I have this!" He lifts his hand holdsing what appears to be a jeweled scarab. It has a black Ruby in it's center. "Recognize it. You thought it lost, but I have it now. and Now you shall know the darkness I knew and all your friends and _loved_ones_ shall their flest burn with the seven marks of shame." With his head back laughing he waves hi shands in the air. "You want me Nabu? Come to Gotham and find me! We shall settle this later! And he waves his hands and dissapears.... Leaning down to pick up a Standard Unidentifiable Household Item(tm), Sand glances up at Raza again, then tosses it at his arm, aiming with the practice of years. Aaand...it sails right through where he was. "Damn it," he says philosophically. Dr. Fate growls, "Damn..." He glances at the still glowing candles, "At least we accomplished one small feat." He leans forward and snuffs each candle between his fingertips. As each light extinguishes, the smoke briefly takes on a human form and then dissipates as it rises towards the ceiling. "These were the victims here....but there are more....many, many more." He glances at the spot the man was sitting, "And he's holding them." Nodding in acknowledgement, Sanderson makes sure all his equipment is secured, but leaves the mask up over his head. "Just a question...is that guy touchable? You couldn't blast him, but could I have hurt him at all?" Dr. Fate glances over at Sand, waving his hand and dissolving the forcefield, "I'm sorry about that, by the way, I should have asked you first." He looks in the circle, "I'm not really sure. It's very possible that he wasn't expecting you. He very well may have been vulnerable to you. But if he unlocks the secrets of the Scarab....he'll be nearly unstoppable." Sand nods again, this time looking wry. "Yeah, that's usually how it works." He glances around the room. "Uh...y'know, we really should call the police. Or something. Did you leave any traces of your passage? I know I have to retrieve the casing of the gas pellet downstairs..." Dr. Fate shakes his head, "There aren't any traces from me.....Though the police are going to have a tough time explaining this one." He starts to head for the stairs "Right," says Sand again, shaking his head. He does as he said he would - down the steps, then as he leaves, he goes in and carefully removes the casing from the room on the left from the entrance. He goes for the door, then raises his eyebrows. "Oh. And you have some explaining to do, Fate-who's-not-Kent." Dr. Fate chuckles, "All in due time, unless you're up for a cup of coffee right now...." "Sure," nods Sanderson, all agreeable. "Coffee's great. But it's even better in the diners downtown than it is in Harlem at eleven at night, get me? I'll meet you at - gimme half an hour?" Dr. Fate nods, "Sure....I'll probably tend to stand out a bit, so I shouldn't be hard to find." Sand supresses a grin - like - sure, okay, this guy can't dress normally, either, then nods and heads for his car.