An Oracle Speaks to Her God

Brief Title:
Oracle and God

Mockingbird, Ares

Scene Runner/Watcher:

IC Date:

Near Hell's Kitchen in NYC

Mockingbird summons Ares and asks him questions about the situation

Social or Plot:


Manhattan is a war zone, and Mockingbird finds herself right in the middle of it. Her initial work was focused on getting people out safely, but much of the city is evacuated by now. The monsters have to be coming from -somewhere-, and for some reason. Nobody just dumps a bunch of monsters in Manhattan without having a plan.
The sun is setting, and still the city burns. Scouting on foot, now, Mock is dressed in costume and outfitted like a soldier. Shotgun on one thigh and pistol on the other, she's carrying an assault rifle at casual ready. The fires don't concern her as much as traces of the invaders' activity. While she tries to avoid trouble when she can, anything unfriendly that comes across her path is dispatched with extreme prejudice.

The campaign of the creatures is building, there is definitely some form of unifying force behind them, motivating them, ordering them to assault one location, avoid another. In the abstract it's been masterful, a brilliant use of their resources, their capabilities to overwhelm the defenders at times. There are few creatures that are straggling now, though at times high up she'll catch the silhouette of a flying monstrosity that might or might not be shadowing her. It lets out the occasional cry, almost defiant.
Yet down in the city it is bedlam, the city burns, tendrils of smoke wafting upwards and into the night sky. Some car wrecks still smoulder, their forms crushed under shadowy foot in the past. Very few survivors are out and about, but at least at this time of night it's a little easier for someone of Mockingbird's abilities to move about.

Mockingbird finds a cafe that's not entirely gutted, and settles there to take a short breather. Checking the perimeter first, she settles at a table near a broken front window where she'll have some semblance of privacy against aerial surveillance. Gun check, and Bobbi doesn't completely relax. Not even now. Drawing a deep breath, her thoughts are on the one individual who she expects will be able to provide answers. He told her once that all she had to do was to concentrate and he would come to her. And so the Oracle does just that; trying to summon the God of War.

For some reason it does not take long, not that she has a frame of reference for how long it /should/ take. But for perhaps a minute... two, she focuses her thoughts upon the man distantly. His visage, his manner. Then the shadows nearby begin to ripple, the world fraying at the edges as a sliver of a portal begins to form.
There's a rip, then a whisper of outrushing air that brings the portal into full life. Looking like a mirror freshly poured it flows openly, shifting and leering at the world before it. Then through it comes the God of War.
Ares emerges, seeming more like John Aaron than his divine visage. He's wearing what he wore last time she saw him, having not changed and uncaring about it. He pauses to look around, spots here, then gives her a firm nod as he murmurs. "Barbara."

Bobbi doesn't get up, cradling the FN Browning in the crook of her left arm. Arching a brow at Ares, she smirks and pushes a chair out with the toe of her boot. "You're not surprised to see me? Good. Have a seat, John. I've got a few questions for you."

A few steps carry him across the room and he rests a hand upon the chair, pulling it back and dropping into it with an ease of preternatural motion. He settles into it and folds his arms over his chest, expression edged as he looks across the table towards her, perhaps gauging her, her manner. A faint shift is seen in his eyes, a subtle furrowing to his brow, but it's only there one instant... then gone.

Bobbi has her game face on, not to mention the amber night vision glasses still over her eyes. The gun is pointed safely down, but held casually ready all the same. Not that she'd be stupid enough to try and use it on him. "First of all, I want to know why. I know you're at least permitting this, and I hope you're not directly involved in it. People have died, and there are some truly horrible things out there killing them. Tell me this isn't just your idea of a good time."

"You know as much as I am able to tell you," Ares answers her levelly, his smouldering crimson eyes unwavering. He blinks slowly and then adds in that dour tone of his. "These creatures do not attack at my bidding, I hold no dominion over them."
The chair creaks as he settles back into it, arms folding over his chest. "I had hoped you would not have been here to endure such." He offers that at the least.

Bobbi smirks at that, shaking her head. "That was good enough when this was a theoretical exercize, John, but it's gone way past that now." Glancing out into the street, as if expecting one of said monsters to just come swooping in, she adds. "If these creatures are not doing your bidding, at least they're doing someone else's bidding with your leave. Near as I can tell, there are two leaders guiding the efforts. Is it possible for the Avengers to kill them?"

"Everything dies," Ares says this somewhat distantly, but then his eyes narrow sharply at something she says. He leans forwards somewhat, expression sharpening like a blade drawn. His jaw sets and he murmurs calmly. "This was never theoretical. Do my words matter so little that you and yours dismiss them as if I had not uttered them? I came to the Avengers and asked them to make ready. You do _not_ know what I dared to even offer that slightest breach in what was required of me."
The tall man's features darken and a gleam of crimson enters his features, the shadowy silhouette of ancient armor manifesting subtly around his form as he growls. "And to you, I told you the severity of the matter."

She shakes her head again. "Oh, I believed the severity of what you told me, John. But you didn't exactly say you were bringing down the plagues of Egypt upon Manhattan." Holding up her palm, she corrects herself and adds. "No, you permitted someone -else- to destroy the city. Wouldn't it have been easier just to nuke the place? Seriously?" Rolling her eyes, Mockingbird sighs exhasperatedly. "Will it be worth it later?"

"It depends on what you value," Ares says this levelly, calmly, and that could be considered true from almost any type of view. But he owes her more than that, and he knows it. One hand lifts to gesture to the side, as if brushing past his own words, his own objections. Then quietly, calmly, he tells her a small story.
"Ages ago, before there was history recorded. There was a people who did naught save live upon a particularly fertile plain. They were good people, lived well. Yet they are lost to time as they were slaughtered to a man for no crime save that they lived on that plain, a plain that had to be held against those who lived beyond their home."
He looks across the way at her and then says levelly, "I am not altruistic, yet I do not take actions on whim." He tells her these things as if they were not connected at all.

Bobbi listens, and then she nods her head slowly. "We aren't the target, here. We're not the goal. We're just pawns, and we die because we're in the way." she replies softly. Considering for a moment, she offers. "What do they want, then, these creatures? They bleed and they die, but not like creatures of this world. There are two leaders, Gaius Marius and Titus Vespasianus. Would -they- be more talkative?"

"They are lost souls, escapees from the Underworld." Ares looks to the side, his gaze distancing as one of the shadowy avian creatures calls out a cry of alarm somewhere across the way. He looks back, red eyes still smouldering as he says levelly. "They would negotiate, but it would only be to further their goals. Ultimately they seek to return to life as they can, to do so they require vessels. Yet Gaius and Titus will not settle for any vessel, so they will most likely move to solidify power and then see what prisoners they have in hand.
A pause, then he adds dourly. "If they speak to you, feign negotiation, trust that they are maneuvering you into a position to destroy you."

Her brow furrows at that. "Escapees from the Underworld? What the hell does that mean? I thought you people had security measures or something. You know, like that 3-headed dog?" Bobbi shakes her head slowly, then. Raising up her rifle for a moment, she asks. "Can Gaius and Titus be killed? With these weapons?"

"Most likely," Ares looks back to her and holds her gaze. "They can be dispatched back to their damnation, but they are older beings, strong of will. They will be more difficult than the ones that you face in passing."
There's a small frown, then he gains his feet, the chair pushing back with a wooden scrape upon the floor. "If there is aught else, I would depart." Strange that he says that, or in that particular way.

Bobbi rises along with him, this time. "I said it before, but I'll say it again. I hope this is all worth it in the end, John." she pauses, then adds. "And when this IS over, you owe me a full account." A quick check of her weapon and mag, then she offers. "Stay safe. And next time, you at least buy me a cup of coffee."

A glimmer of a hint is there, the man behind the god as he allows a small faint smile to come to the fore. He says quietly, "If I still exist in two days time, then yes I shall." That having been said he turns away and gestures towards the wall he emerged from, the dormant gateway awakens again, swirling as the world is disrupted, giving him a portal for his departure.

For a moment she almost considers it, dashing through the portal with him. But Bobbi realizes that his path and hers must diverge for a while. And that there are places where mortals were never meant to go. Taking a quick slug from a water bottle, she exhales briskly and returns to her commando focus. She'll need it to get back out of here, after all.

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