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Jack gave the recliner a long look. "Golly, Detective, try not to overwhelm me with all of this impressive mystic spectacle," he drawled, raising a single eyebrow. Nevertheless, the acrobat took a seat. Shifting around reflexively to get comfortable, he spread his hands. "What now?"

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Part of what was unnerving Colt so much about this encounter was the medium through which the detective's magic flowed. Colt would never have expected things like lens-less glasses or a dream catcher to be able to hold magical enchantments. Even more unnerving was the use of the large La-Z-Boy for communing with his friend's soul.

Colt lifted his shot glass off the counter, and downed it in one swig. He knew that he had at least another few minutes of pure clarity before much of the alcohol he had consumed in the last few minutes would start to affect him. He wasn't sure whether or not he wanted whatever was going to happen to happen before or after he stopped being sober.

Colt entwined his fingers with Grim's hand, pausing only momentarily to glance sideways at Grim for reassurance. Turning his attention back to Jack and Colby, Colt looked on silently as the ritual began.

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"Golly, Detective, try not to overwhelm me with all of this impressive mystic spectacle,"

Colby gave him a sharp look. "Hey, are you making fun of my schtick? Every spell caster needs a schtick; these objects are sacred to me, which gives them power." She indicated the recliner with a nod. "That was my dad's chair; every night he came come from working his beat, dropped his ass in that chair, had himself a beer and watched TV. It was the only time I ever saw him happy."

Her pretty but tired face clouded over for a moment before she returned to her preparations.

"What now?"

"Now we get down to business; you're gonna want to tip that back." She picked up the TV table and placed it over Jack's lap, then fetched the dreamcatcher from the bar, along with some sort of spidery framework made out of bent coat hangers. The witch suspended the catcher in the framework, and then placed it on the tray table, facing the swordsman, then finally she set up a musty director's chair at the foot of the recliner and took a seat.

"Okay, you two are gonna want to stand on either side of him, because you might have to hold him down at some point; these things can get a little rowdy."

Grim moved uncertainly to the left side of the chair, her eyes nervously flicking from face to face. "Seriously?"

The detective nodded. "Seriously; I had a guy kick out my front teeth out in a similar situation." She reached into her mouth and pulled out a partial denture of four teeth, flashed a broken grin and replaced them. "I've got lousy dental. You guys just about ready? Last call for bathroom breaks."

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Jack stopped fidgeting when the detective mentioned her father's connection to the recliner. Well, that's both touching an really, really depressing, he thought to himself. He was distracted from commenting on Colby's unusual dental work by a more pressing concern. "Woah-ho, am I going to be spazzing out with my powers here? You know what my skill set is, right? It's stabbing people. A lot. Often in the face." The fencer wasn't entirely sure what to expect from the ritual, but the idea of giving up control of himself like that was abhorrent to the rigorously trained fighter.

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"An mine's shootin'." Colt fired back. "We're all dangerous, Jack. An' I reckon that's why we're here. Ta make sure no one gets hurt in this here process." Colt moved to the side of the chair and laid a hand on his friends shoulder. "Just relax, we'll see ya on'a other side." He gave Jack a reassuring smile.

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"And we can take your guns away, chucklehead," Jack retorted. "I've got the stabby bits built in. What are you gonna do if I start waving three feet of pointy hellfire around while you're trying to hold me down? You guys could put me out, but not before somebody gets seriously jacked up." The fencer paused. "Pun not intended." Honestly, he didn't like Colt and Grim's chances in a melee fight against him period, but he wasn't about to get into that discussion.

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"I've got the stabby bits built in. What are you gonna do if I start waving three feet of pointy hellfire around while you're trying to hold me down? You guys could put me out, but not before somebody gets seriously jacked up."

Colby tapped her forehead thoughtfully. "Yeah, you may be right; I better cuff you." Once again, she went behind the bar, were she rummaged aroud for a bit before coming back with two pairs of handcuffs, a first aid kit and a length of chain, which she dropped next to the recliner in a loose pile. She opened the kit and took out a roll of gauze and some surgical tape.

"Okay, I'm going to wrap your wrists up pretty good; don't want to mess up your fencing skills, right?"

Grim could only shake her head in disbelief at the detective's preparations. "Wow, this is the best exorcism ever."

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Grim could only shake her head in disbelief at the detective's preparations. "Wow, this is the best exorcism ever."

"Ya think so?" Colt asked, dubious. "I'd'a thought fer sure that time we exorcised the entire city'a demons'd come in first. Then again, that's what caused this whole problem," Colt waved his hand over Jack as he was being cuffed, "So I guess this'd get lots'a point too."

"Anyways," Colt shrugged, "I reckon it ain't worked yet, so don't go praisin' just yet. Not that I don't trust ya'er nothin'." He hastily added with a glance at Colby.

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"Less talking, more scrubbing my aura with bleach," Jack snapped as he positioned his wrists where Colby could cuff them. The swordsman's eyebrows twitched with impatience. After all of this absurdity, he just wanted to get on with the ritual. "We doing this or what?"

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"We doing this or what?"

"Bitch, bitch, bitch; you demon-tainted kids are all the same." :roll:

Colby finished wrapping Jack's wrists, ran the chain under the recliner and snapped on the cuffs; the irritable swordsman looked like he was about to attempt a daring escape from a rec room. The detective then adjusted the TV tray and the dreamcatcher, being careful only to handle the wire frame. Then she motioned towards Jack as she resumed her seat in the director's chair.

"Okay, like I said before, one of you at either side, but stay clear of his hands, right? Jack, I want you to keep your big mouth shut and stare into the dark eye, and listen to my voice as Colby takes you away. Oh hey, Grim, pass me that djembe, would you? The African drum, over there by the Coleman stove? Thanks, you're a sweetheart."

Once the shapeshifter fetches the drum, Colby put it between her legs and started to tap out a steady rhythm, almost like a heartbeat.

"Okay, Mister Magic Man, I want you to think back to that day; back to the day you died. You were out in the street, weren't you? It must have been terrifying..."

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"Am I supposed to answer that?" Jack drawled flatly, though he followed Colby's instructions and continued to stare into the talisman. "Or should I 'keep my big mouth shut'?" His ill-concealed annoyance made it difficult, but he allowed the dreamcatcher to draw him in, focusing on not fear, but the rage and impotency he'd felt, lying broken against the MAVERIC as the West End burned.

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For his part, Colt was silent. But he could see it too. He had to will himself not to look at the dream catcher. Who knew what it might do to him... He pictured Jack in his mind. He felt once again the way he'd felt when he had to watch one of his best friends die almost literally in his arms. The terror, the rage, the helplessness. It all came rushing back. Colt felt on the verge of tears, but managed to grind his teeth and choke them back. Reckon ya cain't go'n be all sentimental now. Not when Jack needs ya this time. Ya let'm down once. Not again. Never again.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Suddenly there was a noise, like a flapping of wings all round them, and then...

"Oh my god..." :shock:

Colt, Jack and Grim were inside the MAVERIC, at the same intersection they'd arrived at on that fateful day last November, the day the sky turned to blood and ash; across the street, a twisted eight story building stood, its many windows shattered as flames licked up its sides. Part of the street was blocked off with trashed cars, forming a sort of holding pen.

Everywhere there were shadows, some human-sized, some much larger, flickering in and out of sight, as though a broken film projector was showing some old half-remembered horror film, and terrified screams hung in the air, slipping away whenever you turned your head to find their source. The feeling of hopelessness they'd all experienced at some point that day was here again, too, but fainter, a mere echo of its awful power.

Suddenly the CB radio in the truck came to life, and Colby's voice buzzed over it.

"Are you all there? Are you all together?"

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  • 4 weeks later...

"Sort of," Jack responded as he hopped out of the vehicle and surveyed the surreal landscape. "Looks like I'm all the way here, but Colt and Grim are... grainy." The swordsman searched for the appropriate words to describe what he was looking at. "Flickering in and out. That normal?" Though his tone was conversational, Jack's hackles were up. This hellish mental projection was ten kinds of all wrong, and he wanted to do what needed doing an be done with it.

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Colt remained in the vehicle, completely unsure of what he could and could not interact with because of the way things were flickering. "Yea," he responded, "But where in tarnation is here?"

Colt tried to test out his capabilities by pressing a few of the buttons on the vehicle's dash board. Just to see if anything worked. If he was a ghost or something here then nothing he would do would affect anything. "Better find out now, before somethin' attacks us." He mused.

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  • 2 weeks later...

"Sort of,""Looks like I'm all the way here, but Colt and Grim are... grainy." The swordsman searched for the appropriate words to describe what he was looking at. "Flickering in and out. That normal?"

You could almost hear Colby's shrug over the ghost radio. "Well, 'normal' pretty much goes out the window, in a situation like this, but the good news is you're all together. Your teammates can lend you strength, if you need it."

Both Colt and Grim found that while they seemed to be in the same place as jack, they could not in fact interact with the environment; Colt's fingers passed ineffectually through the MAVERIC's controls, and Grim stepped through the side of the vehicle and out into the street, slowly walking towards the swordsman, nervously peering around the eerie scene.

"So wherever we are, I guess me and Colt are here but not here, right?"

"Yea," he responded, "But where in tarnation is here?"

"The short answer is you're all still in the basement at my place; the long answer is your minds are projecting into a recreation of the past, which is, well...orbiting just above the surface of the dreamcatcher, if that makes any sense, which it probably doesn't."

Suddenly a booming voice echoed throughout the empty intersection.

"INSOLENT HUMAN! NOW YOU DIE!"

"INSOLENT HUMAN! NOW YOU DIE!"

"INSOLENT HUMAN! NOW YOU DIE!"

Grim clutched her stomach and looked sickened. "Oh God, I remember that voice; it's him, the big one!" :? :(

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You could almost hear Colby's shrug over the ghost radio. "Well, 'normal' pretty much goes out the window, in a situation like this, but the good news is you're all together. Your teammates can lend you strength, if you need it."

Ain't no sense beatin' around the bush. Colt reasoned with himself. If he was here for moral support, he had better get started. "Jack!" Colt addressed the swordsman, slipping through the door to the MAVERIC just as Grim had, "Ya c'n do this. I reckon that last match's just the result'f a lucky shot. Ain't no way yer gonna let that happen again, I know it." Colt didn't even bother drawing his guns. He simply stood, staring at his teammate, arms crossed. Colt's expression was a picture perfect look of pride and determination. His belief in Jack shown directly through his flickering persona.

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"Awesome," Jack drawled, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck as he looked around. "Well, you got that right," he told Colt's flickering image with a wry smirk. Turning his head toward the direction of the booming voice, the swashbuckler watched as a lumbering figure stepped out of the shrouding ash and shadowy after images. There was no mistaking the massive demon who Jack had fought during the hellish invasion of the city, but instead of leathery hide, it seemed to be composed of dark blue flames, a thousand tongues licking hungrily as its coal-like eyes turned to Jack.

The swordsman raised a eyebrow without turning all the way around. "Well, you're a bit more made of fire than I remember," he remarked. Suddenly bursting into movement, he swept back, greatcoat flaring out behind him. Brilliant white light swirled around his right hand like a miniature galaxy, ribbons of energy solidifying into a gleaming rapier with an intricate filigree hand guard. "Payback time." Blade held loosely behind him, Jack charged forward.

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  • 1 month later...

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