Whiteface leans on the bar, looking around the room with that
fixed grin on his face. He's holding a whiskey shot in one had,
but he doesn't every drink from it.

Sitting back and trying not to get -too- drunk, Sandy crosses his
arms and furrows his brow. "And the only reason I'm telling -you-,
you bastard, is because you owe me one and will therefore listen.
I can't believe I'm gonna do this. Just because she hates me and
might not anymore if I do her a favor..."

A guy in a black leather coat, black jeans, black biker boots.
Black hat with a round brim and a flat top. Black gloves. Collar
turned up. What you can see of his face is alabaster white and has
a hard look to it, like marble, rather than skin. HTeeth are
embedded int he surface of it, permanently configured into a grin.
He has no nose that you can see, and there _might_ be empty
eyesockets under the hat.

A tall cool drink of water in the form of Dinah Lance emerges at
the doorway. Her lashes drop in a veil as she silently surveys the
scene, her hips unconsciously waving a happy hello as she slinks
her way towards the back of the room.

John Constantine is something of a leaner, it should be noted. He
leans on lamp-posts, on walls, on stubborn bastards; anything that
he can find. At the moment he's leaning against the wall next to
him, with his shoulders cocked and a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Far be it from me t'criticise," he says, and lifts his glass to
his lips.

Whiteface watches Dinah for a moment, then picks up his whiskey
and approaches her. "Excuse me, Miss Lance," he says. "Are you
faimiliar with the song 'Cosmic Debris'?"

Eyeing Constantine dubiously, Sandy finally shuts up and lights a
cigarette. He glances at the woman entering, eyebrows shooting up
in surprise; he coughs. "Here comes troub-" he starts, then stops,
frowning at the jacketed guy.

Black Canary looks Whiteface dead in the...well, eyesockets? Her
nostrils flare for a brief moment, but she admirably manages to
conceal the bulk of her suprise at his visage. With a steady
strong voice, she replies, "No. Should I be? And for that matter,
should I be familiar with YOU?" Her chin lifts a fraction of an
inch as she tries to internally gather her wits.

Whiteface's lipless mouth does not move when he speaks. His teeth
do not part; the grin never wavers. "How about, 'Don't eat the
yellow snow'? Are you familiar with that one?"

John Constantine, who has been concerning himself with the depths
of his pockets for the past few minutes, finally finds what he's
looking for: packet of fags and a trusty lighter. When said trusty
lighter fails, John turns to the tabletop candle for a flame, and
straightens his back as if chasing the smoke from his newly-lit
cig. "What's that?" he asks, before glancing across the room.

Frowning, Sandy finishes off his whiskey, setting his glass down.
He stands, Lucky in hand, and glances back at John. "Dinah Lance.
Old school, uh, superhero." The last word's muttered. He inclines
his head at the funny-looking guy. "No idea who that is - doesn't
look pleasant." Sand's already on his way over.

Dark lashes shutter over blue eyes quickly as Dinah Lance stares
down her grim obstacle. Her voice is a slow precise drawl, when
finally she speaks. "How ABOUT, I don't -care- who you are, or
that you're the grim reaper in training. Here's the summary:
whatever. I'm just trying to get to THAT man, " she darts her gaze
over at Sandy, heading ever closer, " without trouble." She steps
an inch closer to the ghoulish figure and tips her head up, while
narrowing her eyes. "Do you have an issue with that? I'll TALK
about it."

Whiteface says "Oh, good. I was rather hoping he and his
shady-looking friend would be along." He turns to Sand and
Constantine and beckons them towards him. "Well? Are you coming?"
he says loudly.

Whiteface says "Hop to it, or you'll miss the bus."

"Always up for a good laugh," Constantine replies, already en
route towards the others.

Supressing a sigh, Sand approaches, giving Dinah a questioning
glance. He takes another drag of his cigarette, then puts it out
in a nearby ashtray.

Whiteface claps his gloved hands together once, and Warrior's bar
is replaced by an enormous cavern. Dinah, Sand and Constantine are
the only three beings in it that were in Warrior's.

Whiteface is gone.

Black Canary lowers her head and her voise as Sandy approaches,
and hisses to him "What the hell is going on here?" Then a
feminine gasp of alarm is heard. "What the-?!"

The cavern is done up to look like a bus station. Fluorescent
lights lights are strung between the stalactites, the floor is
tiled with grubby grey tiles. Signs list times and destinations of
various buses: Hades, Dis, Styx Central...

"Jeez!" exclaims the Golden Ager, instantly dropping into a
defensive posture. After a second - yeah, there's nothing coming
at them - he straightens, but remains over-alert. "Someone's
rotten idea of a theme party...?"

"Well that was a bloody mean trick," John Constantine says,
although the worry on his face melts into calm once he realizes
that both the cigarette and glass of gin he was carrying seem are
still intact. "There -is- a god," he mutters softly.

There are many patrons sitting on the benches or buying tickets or
confectionary. All of them have red skin, cloven hooves, barbed
tails and pointy ears. Most of them carry tridents. The ZZ Top
song 'Waiting for the bus' is playing.

Sandy Hawkins glances at John, fishing in his pockets again. "So -
you've been to hell before, Constantine - place look familiar? Or
is this a smoke-and-mirror show?" Goddamn. Out of cigarettes.

None of the travellers pay you any head. Whiteface's voice blares
through the PA, over the music: "Lance and party, your bus is
waiting. Please head for gate 13, destination: City of Dis, or I
shall have to have you all tridented to death."

Canary directs a sharp look at Constantine. "I wouldn't say THAT."
She assesses the situation and clenches her hands. As the
loudspeaker blares, she winces, then looks around. "WELL, oh-kay.
/I/ have /my/ priorities straight." The blonde trudges towards the
bus, silently cursing Sandy. Why did she have to go looking for
him?

"I don't know about that," says Sandy easily, then cups his hands
around his mouth, "CHANGE THE GODDAMN STATION!" But - yeah, okay.
He follows Dinah, hands in his pockets. Soon, soon, he'll get
desperate enough to bum a smoke off of John.

Pneumatic pumps hiss as the bus doors open and close impatiently.
The driver looks like the other passengers, but he's dressed in a
cheap green uniform. No one else is lining up for the bus. No
other passengers are aboard.

John Constantine just shrugs in response to Sandy's questions,
momentarily distracted by a succubus with legs up to her neck and
a sexy little red two-piece. He nearly knocks into poorly-situated
bench, and silently muses over the resemblence to the Victoria
tube station. "Coming," he calls off to no one in particular, and
doubles pace to catch up.

Black Canary just glares at Sandy, then gets distracted as the
body next to her starts coughing, his lungs opened and exposed.
"Gross."

The bus driver does not ask for tickets. The doors slam shut
millimeters shy of Constantine's heels and the bus lurches
forwards, 0 to seventy in half a second.

John Constantine stumbles forward, trenchcoat caught in the doors.

Sandy Hawkins just shrugs at Dinah - it's not his fault - then
gets slammed against the metal bar in the middle of the car with
the sudden acceleration. "Ow..."

With eyes wide, Canary goes flying back with a small sound of pure
horror as she clasps a bar.

Swinging himself into a seat, Sand mutters a couple of choice
Tibetan obscenities, then starts smirking when he looks up at
John. "You, uh...you're kinda caught, there. Buddy."

The bus hurtles away fromt he platform, to be engulfed in the
darkness of a tunnel. Minutes later it bursts into the light of
another, larger cavern. You think it's a cavern, it has
stalactites hanging fromt he roof... but the roof is far away, and
you can't see any of the walls. And, it's tall enough to contain a
range of mountains.nThe bus slews around madly as it spirals up
the mountain, away fromt he lava-lit wastes below. The road does
not seem wide enough for it, and you hear one side of the bus
scraping the mountain wall.

John Constantine blinks twice before realizing what Sandy's
referring to. "Oh," he says, turning his head, then his body, and
nearly getting entangled in the process. "Oh, well sod it all." He
tugs at his jacket, in a futile effort.

Black Canary clings weakly to the railing and clutches her stomach
with her other hand, the surrealness of the situation still not
quite catching up. Her skin turns a ghastly shade of pale as she
murmurs, "If this bus crashes...will it be a GOOD thing?"

So it's a tour of Hades, is it. "I could cut you free," offers
Sanderson, deadpan, then gives it up and grins -- undoubtedly
irritating Dinah. After a second of looking out the window, he
glances at her then calls to the driver, "Hey, SLOW DOWN or you're
gonna have Dinah's dinner all over the inside of the car, huh?"

Abruptly, the scenery changes. The bare rock and burning
vegetation outside the bus are replaced with a vast expanse of
yellow. Some small, domed structures stand ten or fifteen meters
away. The road seems to have widened. The bus slams to a halt,
rocking forwards and then back. The doors hiss open and a blast of
cold and... fragrant... air rushes inside.

That wins Sanderson negative points in the Blonde Bombshell's
estimation, as is clearly evidenced by her weak yet scathing look.

The driver has vanished.

Clearly having given up on winning brownie points with the
vigilante, at this point, Sandy hooks his little fingers into the
corners of his mouth and - unbelievably - tugs, and sticks his
tongue out. Like a little kid. Better yet, he tempts face. "Oh,
that's not so bad! Shove off, John, make way, we're getting out
now, looks like."

Black Canary lifts her head and intakes the fresh air with deep
sharp gasps, her nausea passing. She looks between both men and
furrows dark brows, with a sinking feeling. Still, she presses on
to the door, filing behind any exiting parties.

Whiteface appears, just outside the doors. He shifts his weight
from foot to foot impatiently.

John Constantine hunches down, fingering the distress caused to
his jacket, somehow balancing his drink in the process. "Mmm," he
says, stepping out and into the new environment.

Sandy Hawkins pauses outside, then inclines his head at John,
ignoring Whiteface. "Gotta spare cigarette? I'm out."

Whiteface says "Ah, welcome. I do apologise for making you use the
public transport, but the gateway is under maintenance. That
frightful little Baytor and his friends hired my facilities last
weekend, and I'm having some difficulty getting them to pay for
the damages..."

The yellow snow slushes beneath his boots as Whiteface turns and
walks towards the dome structures... igloos... a few meters away.
"Come along, now, or the food will get cold."

Black Canary's expression turns positively mutinous, and for a
dangeous second it looks as though she'll boil over. Forturnately,
it's at that exact second that Whiteface turns and walks away.
Canary stalks after him, her teeth bared. Thankfully, she isn't
looking down. That would be a week's worth of therapy if she did.

Whiteface calls back over his shoulder, "This is hell, by the way;
you can do whatever you like here... but please. Watch out where
the huskies go, and don't you eat the yellow snow. Don't be a
naughty eskimo."

Black Canary stops dead in her track. "Hell?"

As John's fumbling through his pockets, Sand glances up at Dinah.
"Yeah - you couldn't guess from the bus terminal? Come on, no one
plays ZZ Top anymore." He pauses. "If I just insulted your taste
in music, I apologize. Be right there, Demon-Guy."

Whiteface disappears into an igloo. "Come along now."

Black Canary looks at the igloo, then back at Sandy. Then eyes
John Constantine with what could only be interpreted as a high
degree of misgiving. She says to herself in dismay, "Not only am I
in hell, I'm in hell with no hope in hell of a competent assist.
So I really AM in Hell." Running a hand through her hair, she
looks back at the igloo and sighs deeply. "Yeah. O live to serve."
She turns and makes a beeline for the dwelling.

[JSA] Whiteface says, "Want to continue?"