The Interpretation of Dreams

____’s eyes opened suddenly. He practically threw himself to his feet to get himself ready for the day; a second wasted was more than an hour of contemplation thanks to his ability, so he didn’t like to waste time. Those moments he spent getting up from his bed were enough to fully wake up. He tried looking for his shoes but stopped short rather quickly.  

It was surprising to find himself in a hospital room. Not only that, though. The room itself looked normal, but the dimensions of the room almost wobbled a bit. ___ noticed why when trying to reach the door: every time he moved, the room would get bigger, and the door a little farther away. He would have chalked it up to a dream, but in a dream, this would have made perfect sense- a type of intuition incapable of putting two and two together to conclude that it was a dream. Not only that, but his dreams last years, yet time to him here passes normally. The real world was always painfully inconvenient. That raises two questions though, where was he, and…
How did he get here?

It could have been a speedster, but he’d rather consider any other possibility first before thinking about the worst-case scenario. His dreams weren’t particularly long, nor did he have any longer than usual so he could rule out anesthetics and most other drugs as those would disrupt sleep cycles, but would have allowed people to transport here without him being aware. If that was the case why let him keep most of his equipment? Why not bring his shoes along if they wanted him to be comfortable?

Thinking back to the events of yesterday, a few things clicked. News events he gathered from a day ago reported the debut of a significantly more powerful "Jack" in Las Vegas. The infamous supervillain has been known to massacre people whenever given the opportunity, and it looked like he had quite the opportunity here. London had also started to crumble, and a sudden increase of missing person cases popped up. Heroes normally going on patrols have vanished without a trace, and that was incredibly problematic, considering Jack was causing problems here in the US. He also noticed that the disappearances were either noted in the early morning or - in cases with heroes who liked to prowl in the night - a sudden lack of their presence after mid-noon, considering time zones.

After using a phone location tracer algorithm for the list of missing people, ___ found something curious. The last ping found from the phone of a guy in New York- was in Las Vegas. So, as any regular person would, he briefly took a look at the power Jack displayed, read a few descriptions of Jack’s history, and accessed the digital files about his background that he could get access to from the police department through a back-door made by some other hacker (as normies usually do). He developed a few small theories on how to defeat Jack should he grow out of control, then made a few educated guesses as to what Jack exactly was doing with his powers (Jack mentioned nightmares. Jack put half the city asleep and made a special, dream-like landscape judging from the video that was broadcasted) and studied a bit in preparation for the next day, hoping he could push for some sort of government intervention before the conflict escalated.

Expertises:

Persuasive Speech
Neurobiology (Cognitive)
‘Xtreme' Martial Arts
Kusari-Fundo
Handheld firearms
Acting
Parkour
Psychology
Hacking
Emergency medicine

He never planned to actually go to Vegas, though. Yet here he was, in a room that would have a door he could never reach. When he had shoved away his sheets getting up a minute ago, the room hadn't shifted in any dimensions consistent with his own movements (perhaps it was based on only his location?), so he decided to test out a theory by firing a shot from his pistol (Yes he sleeps with his weapons- you can never be too safe!). The bullet punctured a hole into the center of the door, so he pulls out his grappling hook and shoots it into the door itself. Then, reeling it in, he pulls himself to the door. It was similar to that of the dichotomy paradox, except manifested through size instead of outright distance- resolved with the inevitability that the line must close and that its own distance is finite. He activates the mini-motor that slowly reloads the grappling gun after he gets out of the room.

Reaching the hallway, ___ is greeted by the smell of harsh chemicals and blood, dark red drag stains and claw marks trail through the floor and the walls. The lights flickered, likely powered by some sort of emergency power storage. Bodies and dismembered body parts were strewn all over and were either mauled apart or completely intact. Curious, he checks the bodies that were intact and noticed that not only did they have a pulse, but they were breathing- likely some sort of deep sleep – some even muttering in their breath. Why were they still alive? The only injuries they sustained seemed to be blunt force or cuts that could be explained by collapsing suddenly, so whatever killed everyone else must not have affected or ignored these people for whatever reason. The state they’re in must be important…

After finding the directory, he immediately heads to what he guesses is the neurology department. He figured the elevator was out of the question (since it seemed to be breathing) and after opening the doors to the stairs and finding an infinite void, he opted to bust open a nearby window and climb his way to the floor he needs. Since he was in a hospital, it would be best to use tools already available he would need to use the hospital’s electroencephalogram; it was the best clue he had to figure out a solution.

A gargoyle-looking creature approaches him while he’s gripping a ledge, so he grabs both guns, leaps off the building, and shoots one of its wings with his grapple gun, using the sudden retraction to swing himself to a higher floor as he pulls the creature towards the ground. While doing this, he shoots the window 2 floors above, and using his momentum – runs up the wall and pushes against the corner to reach his desired floor, crashing through the glass in a somersault. He hears the creature screech below - clearly still alive, so he makes a mad dash through the halls in hopes of finding the machine quickly and losing the creature.

The day has only just begun… What a pain.

The first thing Samael experienced was flashing lights.

Emergency lights that were bright enough to offer some illumination yet had the sensation of constantly flickering, only a second away from going out entirely. His head swam, as if it were stuffed with cotton and that was when it wasn’t throbbing from an unknown pain. Perhaps a lingering kind of injury, something his body wouldn’t immediately recover from.  Slowly his eyes crept open, taking in more of the room around him and the faint sound that came with it. His senses were sharper than human senses, which meant he was hyper aware of all sounds within a certain radius.  That was why he could hjear the faint sound of an alarm, though guessing how far it was away was not something he could do now. Instead regaining his bearings was vastly more important, especially if he were in some kind of dangerous position.

Opening his black eyes more, he could tell he was in some kind of backroom. A hospital bed had been pushed back against the wall, metal wheeling breaking through the wall and leaving it implanted there. The air smelled of blood and decay, stinging slightly with each breath he took through his nose.  He was also upside down, looking through the dimly lit room for the source of a ripping and tearing sound. A sound that came close to the sound of something eating, ripping and tearing fllesh. A not too uncommon sound when he ate around people, though humans also didn’t eat with that kind of voracity.  Despite that he tried to keep hjs breathing level, give nothing away  should whatever be in the room have sharp enough hearing to catch that minute detail. He couldn’t do anything about his heart rate, so hopefully that would be one of those things that went overlooked.

Where was he? It looked like he might have been in one of the patient rooms of a hospital but why was he there? He had been in Vegas before, making sure Ashley didn’t get himself hurt despite lacking in those memories he had before. Why did he have to be married to someone that didn’t even remember him? Well, he could have stuck to the ’till death do us part thing’ but he wasn’t  the type to cuts things off like that.

Nestled into the corner was what he could only describe as a monster. Humanoid only by the way of two legs and arms, a head set between the shoulders with what he was sure eyes around the same place. Its skin was red, almost bloody red with splashes of darker liquid half dried  set across the parts of its arm he could see.  Raising something to its mouth, followed by more and more squelching noises. That was where the eating sounds came from. This time the sound of bones snapping followed, causing his stomach to turn slightly from the sheer implication of it all.  He’d only seen things like that a few times before, and there were many names that have been put towards the massive demons with their grotesque shapes.

An Oni. Set beside it was an ugly looking club made from knotted and likely cursed wood.  This was not a good way to wake up., if he was somehow dragged here.  With all the stealth he could muster, Samael reached for his jacket pocket and felt the hilt of a dagger there.  It was a faint relief to know he had a weapon on hand, though the faint rustling of his jacket was enough to draw the things attention towards him, lips and jowls were painted with blood and gore.  A ruined human arm was clutched within its hand, fingers splayed about between those massive teeth which rent them asunder with each chew.

”Shit,” He muttered, looking up to see a strange kind of barbed metal pinned into his leg and hanging from the ceiling.  Once he realized how injured he was, that was when he realized how much pain he was in. Barbs were piercing through his flesh and even the bones of his left leg.  Well, he had another one and that was good enough. The Oni rose from its feast., eyes like molten gold that were fully turned on him. It spoke words in an unknown tongue, raising the massive club.

Maybe the thing wanted to turn him into food like the many dead scattered around its feet.  The tiling at their feet were massively smeared with blood, as well as many corpses, some of them headless and others greeting him with eyes wide in horror. There was no consistent pattern among who were killed, though he didn’t want to look too long. Instead he turned towards the Oni who was lumbering towards him, raising the club as if for a killing blow.  So without thinking he threw the runed dagger, quick enough to catch the thing by surprise as it raised a hand to block it. Despite that glacial energy coursed through the blade, rapidly freezing the limb that it had impacted into and turning the hand into a massive icicle.

Followed by that he pulled a small handgun from his jacket and shot through the supernatural barbed wire holding him up. A bright flash of light and loud bang followed, yet it was enough to sever the binding.  The flooring came to greet him pretty quickly, impact ringing through his shoulder and drawing a grunt from Samael.  The only thing keeping the paint from slowing him down was the understanding that he was still in danger, and the adrenaline that came with it.  His little gambit only slowed down the Oni for a second, eyes now turned towards him again as it swung that massive club towards him.

Without even thinking he fell to the floor on all fours, feeling it pass only an inch away from striking him.  Quickly he looked around the room, mind racing with how he could kill this things with what he had.  The bullets in his gun were only augmented with runes that would increase their punching power but that was about it.  Sure, they might potentially make the damn thing bleed but that was about it.  Letting a breath hiss through clenched teeth, he raised the gun and let off a few shots towards the demon. One shattered the frozen hand, releasing with it a massive spurt of blood and the other slammed into its stomach.  It roared, flailing around and smashing through the walls with each lash.

With that he inscribed a rune over his bare wrist with a red crystal stylus, one that quickly washed away the pain he was now feeling. That relief was sudden and amazing.  ”I fucking hate these things,” He growled,  pushing himself forward and onto his feet, under another swing of the club and  positioned himself behind the Oni, tackling that blind side with all the strength he had available to him right now.  This was enough to force the thing off its feet, and into a nearby wall.  Into and through to be more exact, forcing the massive and muscular creature to stumble forward as it  fell through the wall and onto something.  A flailing, vaguely stony figure that he could see within the faintly lighted darkness of a hallway outside of the room.

Grabbing the dagger that fell to the floor, he rushed forward and  leaped through the massive hole, slamming his weapon into the Oni’s chest, which only caused the freezing effect to spread further, each flail causing the damage flesh to shatter and break even further. This painted him more and more with the things blood, crushing faintly the gargoyle beneath it.  A sort of blood frenzy had overcome him right now, that and the understanding he should be in pain.  If he didn’t kill it, it would kill him and that wasn’t good. Each slash came down until it could no longer move, many bloody ice fragments scattered across the floor as even the thing it had landed on was also smashed to bits within its flailing.

He exhaled, realizing he was a little tired but that was fine. Maybe he would have a little time to heal himself before he got to finding out what the hell was happening.

As ____ was running, he heard a noise coming from a corner- a gunshot, followed by a loud thud, a screech, with more gunshots. He runs toward the noises in the hopes of finding a witness to the chaos and hopefully an extra hand to help him with what he’s planning to do. Running through the door, he sees someone with black eyes lift slowly start to lift a gun toward him. The dagger they held with their off-hand also had frost on the surface, as if it had just been taken out of liquid nitrogen. Another nightmare creature? While they’re injured, a strange dark mist surrounds their wound. The creature also seemed to be the only creature alive, given the littered corpses and body parts surrounding them.

As his eyes shift through the room, he sees frozen, broken shards of what couldn’t possibly be a person… given their anatomy. The cracks that broke the thing apart had fractures that resembled the marks that he usually leaves on glass objects when he leaves bullets into them. Not to mention, there was very little blood on the gunner aside from the wound on their leg, at least compared to what ____ would have expected from the litter of body parts ripped apart. No other corpses had gunfire on them either. So that means that Blackeye (his new nickname for what must be a person) didn’t tear these people limb from limb, and had also fought another creature by freezing it solid and blowing it apart.

_____ lifts his hands up into the air to show that he means no harm. “Thank God someone else’s managed to stay alive!” After taking the time to actually pretend to look around the room (about 5 seconds), and settle his eyes on the leg that has a barbed wire running through it. ___ makes a wince when he does. “Yikes, looks like you’re injured though. I can treat that real quick if that’s alright with you- a little improvisational surgery. I’m Dr.Traum, and to be honest, I have no idea how I ended up here of all places- I just woke up, and here I am. Lemme look real quick what I can use here…”

Dr.Traum opens some cabinets and props open some emergency kits, looking to use whatever is in hand for a quick surgery. A quick glance back to the wound revealed what he suspected; Blackeye was healing, but with the wire still inside of him. “On a scale from one to ten, how would you rate your pain tolerance? I’m guessing a nine since it looks like you can heal incredibly well. I can pull out the wire without causing much more damage, but it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

He found two tongs, which would help, and grabbed a needle. He stabbed the needle into a pillowcase from a hospital bed a few times and used the perforations to unravel the threads and quickly rip the pillow into small, thin cloth strips as easily as if he was peeling apart string cheese. “As nicely as you may heal, I doubt you’re immune to blood loss; these precautions will be necessary. So, what do you say? Give me 5 minutes- it’ll beat pulling it out yourself, and taking some time to heal what’s left in your leg. ”

He was till in fight or flight. That frame of mind where he was one step away from lashing out at anything that might seem like even the slightest of threats.  Shattered pieces of demonic flesh scattered across the tiling,  some breaking into further pieces due to sheer fragility. He sighed, teeth bound tightly together as he heard his own heart hammering in his ear.  Where he was, why he was here and all those unspoken questions were now flowing through his mind in a torrent.  Without  even thinking he turned towards the sound of footsteps, gun raised and finger still hovering over the trigger. It would’ve taken a twitch to shoot but he managed to halt that sudden urge.

The person that approached looked human. They had all the proper arrangements of limbs, brown skin and hands raised in a surrendering gesture.  It was possible he was a demon, one of those that could look, and even act like a human. Put on the right acts that allowed it too get close enough to prey to perform the killing blow.  Simple and yet effective tactics he had learned about in his time hunting supernatural monsters. They even spoke,  seemingly happy that someone else was alive. Something told him the man was unbothered by his eyes, looking empty likely from this distance. Black reflective pools almost like oil, narrowing as they considered him. Was he a danger or just a victim in this attack?

How long would the rune last? They tended to last against mundane pain for hours, though wounds enacted by super natural methods tended to draw the magic out quicker. Especially when the source of the pain was still embedded into his flesh and bone, grinding between the normally crippling damage they were carving.  The man referred to himself as a Doctor, and his eyes scanned over the man making those claims.  He wasn’t dressed in the trappings of a doctor, though that could be brushed away by just being off duty.  A lack of understanding on why he was here could explain that. Perhaps they were both kidnapped, somehow brought here and bound. How was the man no hurt? If there were demons moving around, it would have taken great luck not to get captured by them. It didn’t sound like he was lying either, at least not through anything like change in heart rate.

”It doesn’t hurt that bad. I have something numbing the pain,” He answered as little as possible, not wanting to give everything away to the stranger.  Already he could see the black smoke emerging from the shadows around him, curling around and into the many jagged edges of his impalement wounds.  Black blood had crusted around the barbed wire,  a color different than how he’d imagine a doctor would expect.  He remembered the question, realizing perhaps the blood loss might have dulled his comprehensions slightly. ”Eight or nine,” He added, likely giving himself more credit over  his ability to resist pain.  These injuries however would be nothing, healed within a couple moments once he had the things blocking the injury gone.

”Making a tourniquet?” He questioned, watching the man grab what he could, alongside a good amount of string from a butchered pillow.  Well, if that were the case he had to give the man credit for ingenuity. So he reached down and grasped the bottom of his jeans which were ripped to hell by the wire anyway. The fabric came away easy with a simple, casual wrench as he pulled it away to reveal the leg in full.  Were he not dulling the pain, he was sure that even standing on this leg would have been enough to send him into shock.  There was more partly dried black blood and semi-moist blood than pale flesh visible at this point, which might have been horrible for a doctor to see.  ”I don’t know how compatible with the blood here I might be, so be careful about that,”

Dr.Traum smiled at the question. It was reasonable assumption given the context, but not quite what he was planning.  “That’s a nice guess, but tourniquets are more of a last resort. I’m assuming your healing will be more than enough to prevent you from bleeding out, at least from what I’m about to do.” He continues to speak as he ties the smaller threads together and bends the metal around the knot and snapping off the other end so that he just has a long, thin yet dull, metal spike - tied to string - tied to strips of cloth. 

"Do you have a name or can i call you 'BlackEyes'?" He jokes as he does his work, pressing the wire a bit to see which area was the most loose.

Traum had to repress the urge to just rip out the mangled wires, just to see how Darkeyes would feel. The brief scream of agony would be music to his ears- he doesnt know why but the pain of other people calms him down, as if he had been soothed with a cooling salve on a burn he was unaware he had. The man claims to have a high pain tolerance and pain reliever so he might not even flinch and he's unsure wther or not to feel dissapointed or relieved to have not had the opportunity avilaible to him. Such a thing would also defeat the purpose of the procedure anyway. To distract himself, he focuses pushing the needle through the threading inside of the barbed wire and into the other end, exiting the leg.

As he does, Traum notices jagged, glimmering symbols on Darkeye's skin, moving and shifting like glowing tattoos come alive. They actually resembled the same strange markings on the man's knife and gun. Curious, he pulled up his own sleeve, just to check if they were also on his own skin- only to find nothing. Given the complexity of the runes, they had to be of a magic origin. All he could tell was that it didnt really do much until he started working, so it was likely associated with the pain and is what is relieving this man from it.

As much as Traum would loathe to admit, magic is not his strong suit. He's run countless calculations and estimations, but magic simply seems to defy the nature of the natural world. Perhaps it was a higher level of science he simply did not understand, perhaps the knowledge of magic itself required a cost that was more than intellectual, he did not know.

But what he did know, he'll put to use. There wasn't currently a well-known medical procedure for the removal of barbed wire impaled through a mostly healed leg, but most emergency medical procedures required a good amount of improvisation. Pulling the needle through, the strips of fabric run along aside the wire. Quickly twisting the strips while jiggling the wire, he detached the spikes from their original wound as they made purchase in the coarse polyester material.

The process was kind of like removing a string of sandburrs by having it attach to the porous surface of a paper towel and replace the skin - only it was from the inside of a person. As he kept twisting, the fabric strips fully wrapped themselves around the wires and their spikes. Once the edges were effectively dull from being covered with fabric, Traum slowly pulls out the wire from the man's leg- without fear of damage as it slides out without further puncturing or severing any veins.

"There we go. Wasnt too bad was it?" Traum stares into the black pearls that are the man's eyes as he wonders what on earth this man could be.

"Can you see properly with those eyes by the way? Ive never witnessed a condition where the Sclera is virtually non-existent. Perhaps you could tell me how you got your injuries?"

So it wasn’t a tourniquet, that much he could tell but he wondered what the man was doing. There had to be a method to whatever madness he was going through. Ripping apart a pillow casing and gathering the frayed threads that came from the ripping.  ””It should, He said in a terse manner, looking down to the damaged leg and wondering if the barbed wire would do any harder to heal damage than regular metal. After all, it had managed to rip through his flesh easier than more mundane metals.

The doctor pulled fabric and thread along the length of the metal, quickly removing the spikes from his flesh. There was no real pain, only a pressure and pulling sensation that made him grimace nonetheless. Without pain he still felt it, and saw it though he didn’t feel much nausea from the sight. When the spikes came from his flesh, briefly reopening wounds and bringing with it small spurts of black blood. He was sure he could even see the faint glimpse of white within the flow of black alongside the color of muscle.

The bleeding was minimal and quickly any damage was closed with wisps of shadow moving through the many injuries on his leg. Retrieving the stylus from his leather jacket pocket, he looked down to the ruined canvas of his leg and sighed. Instead he pulled his other sleeve up, drawing a couple runes with a swift motion of the hand. Mend and Replenish, both things he needed right now. The second more so than the first, but he had the feeling he didn’t have the time to wait for his injuries to seal themselves.

As the runes glowed and took effect, all openings in his legs glowed before closing rapidly. That dizziness within his head already fading as his his veins were once again full with blood. ”My eyes work just fine,” He noted, looking up to the doctor with those black eyes. Despite lacking sclera they seemed to hold light well enough. Curiosity about his physical abnormalities made sense, though Samael didn’t want to go around giving all of his secrets away. With a sigh he rose to his feet, feeling no pain or dizziness within himself now that he had for the most part been healed. That also came with a faint, nagging voice within the back of his mind.

He couldn’t afford to heal himself like that too often it seemed.

”I woke up here. One of those...demons were eating people and I’m sure it had similar plans for me too,” He answered simply, kicking a massive frozen chunk of Oni across the floor where it shattered further against a wall.  He couldn’t deny his own hatred of all demons, especially those that ate people. ”You’re taking this rather well. Are you used to to crisis like this?” He questioned, looking back to the man with an arced brow. Not that he expected all humans to fall apart when disaster struck, though he did expect him to be a little more flustered than this.  Maybe he had experience with metahuman attacks.

”I’d suggest sticking around me if you want to survive this night.”

It was astounding really, how quickly the leg healed. That's the Mist stitched the man together, runes that he hadn't realized were stationary began to move in tandem with the ruins that he speculated were for pain reliefm
While they moved about, the blood around the legquickly coagulated as the wound itself slowly began to disappear. once it did, the runes stopped moving.

Granted, the leg was still caked with blood so it was hard to get a good look, but it was safe to assume that the wound was aready mostly healed- if it wasn't that would probably mean that whatever healed the leg would be out of energy, but he didn't know how this magic worked at all so he wasn't sure.

He also noted how the guy did not want to clarify what his name was at all. So that's how that's going to be. He could constantly shift the name a bit to annoy the guy, but he actually does need help and being able to call him something consistent would be more important in the case of an emergency.

He whistled. "Damn BlackEyes, whatever you have is incredible. If if only regular people could heal that way. If only..."

After listening to the question BlackEyes gave regarding his Behavior to the chaos, and he realized he needed a better explanation that would make more sense regarding who he was pretending to be. His gaze hardened instantly, as if brought to terms with the death of a loved one.

"I've seen stuff like this before; in my field of work there's all sorts of insanity that shouldn't make any sense. Am I used to it? Hell no. I just hide it better than most people. I cope by understanding the situation, because otherwise I would drive myself insane. I feel like Heroes and Villains often forget that - that most of us are just trying to do what we can to get by, to live and make sense of this hellish world."

"Speaking of, you mentioned something about demons. Given that we should be in the Summerlin Hospital Medical Center - according to some of the signs - we should be in Las Vegas, not Hell. Do you know how these demons got here? Are the Gates of Hell somewhere in Las vegas? Its called sin city many, so that would make a little sense." he chuckled.

He suspected DarkEyes was withholding some information aside from just his name, so he was going to withhold his own plans until he explores all the possibilities.  All the creatures so far seem to be demons, so perhaps Jack is somehow conjuring demons from hell. What does this have to do with the sleeping people? Perhaps they are some sort of energy source.All of those things can be addressed once they figure out what exactly they're dealing with. Still, it didn't explain what they were doing here, or how they got here in one piece.

A few brief moments later, a screech could be heard, and as the noise approached he figured out what it was; the gargoyle he tugged down earlier had managed to get up and was indeed still pursuing him.

"Given that you don't seem to know why we're here either, perhaps we should interrogate one of the demons? Sounds like one is headed our way anyway..."

By this time Samael was used to healing as quickly as this. His body going from a state of malfunction to a state where it was as if he weren’t even injured. At worse he would have a few, faint white scars covering his leg but that was about it. One of the few benefits of not fully being a human, though there came with it a few downsides as well. The man persisted in the nickname and that was fine. Honestly he didn’t care what he called him, because in the end the opinions of others was just not that important. Sure, he would do what he could to save the man but that was about it. ”Trust me, it isn’t worth it,” He said simply, slipping the crystal stylus back into his jacket pocket. Turning to the man curiously as he spoke, mostly about his current state and the situation.

”Making sense of the senseless, that’s something we’re all trying to do isn’t it?” He mused, looking the man over. He didn’t look so strong really. Perhaps handsome in an unassuming kind of way but not dangerous, especially not to someone like him. There were a few runes perhaps he could use, not on the doctor but his clothes that might keep him alive. Why was he worrying about that? Samael sighed, eyes screwing shut as the irritation briefly showed on his face before it faded away. ”I’m not any kind of hero, or villain really. Just a guy trying to get by,” he said, finding the concept of being called a hero irritating too. It showed with a sharpness in his voice.

The questioning moved to demons and the gates of hell. It was enough to make him chuckle. ”No. The Gates to Hell aren’t under Vegas, that’s just those weird hang ups about sex and excess. Vegas is no more hellish than any other city,” He approached, now considering the man seriously.  ”Demons do exist though. The things you see around here, not all of them were made by Mad Jack. Some of them just exist below the surface, waiting for the moment when they can strike. I imagine these times are the perfect opportunity to act. So long as they don’t go around touching his sacrifices I guess,” If Jack had somehow become more powerful, it would make sense he could form his madness into this world. He rubbed his head, thinking deeply but finding no concrete answers.

”That’s just speculation though. I don’t really know what’s going on but I know The Pumpkin is involved and I don’t like it,” With a sigh he removed the stylus once again, hearing the screech that penetrated through the area around them. ”Know how to use a gun? I doubt the hyppocrattic oath covers demons,” He noted, seeming to produce a hand gun from his jacket handle first to the man. Various runes danced along the length of the barrel, mostly meant to enhance anything shot from it. They wouldn’t kill powerful enough demons, but most would be injured enough to keep their distance. That was followed by him quickly applying the veil rune to himself,  and turning towards the sound of something howling came from.

A gargoyle was dashing towards them, powerful and stony hands breaking apart the flooring as it charged. This wasn’t going to be easy to just restrain, not without having to pay more of the price. With a deep breath, he felt his power reach out and the shadows respond.  Crawling in long strands along the floor in the flickering emergency light. They rose from the floor, becoming like chains that wrapped around the demon that was charging them. Tightly around its throat, legs, arms and torso before stringing it up.  Wildly it thrashed against the powerful, shadowy binds but they were rather strong. Each second was enough to make his head pound.

”This one work?”

Darkeyes seemed more somber, when answering the question regarding his healing. “Trust me, it isn’t worth it.”

isn’t worth it my ass Traum thought, as he thought of the people who died slow painful deaths, of Michael... He wanted him to explain further but stopped himself from prying too much.

“Ancient curse then? I gotcha.” He nods, as if in understanding, hoping that was enough to prompt Darkeyes to elaborate. He didn’t seem very forthcoming about his life anyway, so it was likely a pointless attempt either way.

After Darkeyes explained the potential scenario regarding the demons, Traum ran through multiple possibilities, many of which would take too long to confirm. He might definitely be unto something about the demons, but it doesn’t really answer anything regarding how they got here, the nature of the world they’re currently in, or what these ‘sacrifices’ might be for. It’s entirely possible they’ll get the answers they’re looking for after some experimentation, so after running a mental run-down of what he’ll need, he gets ready to ask Darkeyes whether he’ll get any help with some minor interrogation.

That was- until he gets handed the gun. He had to smile about that.

"Hippocratic oath? That’s a myth bud; irrelevant to modern medicine. Plus, sometimes you gotta cut into someone to fix them. As for me? Well, I wouldn’t really call myself much of a stationary doctor. You see, my home isn’t safe at night with supes being bold enough to invade people's homes. I’ve seen it happen too often.” He takes a closer look at the gun once it was handed over.

And to think this guy didn’t trust him… perhaps the glyphs are rigged to explode on mental command? Maybe it's made out of a temporary sort of conjuration magic? He held the gun, carefully moving it to account for its weight, and stares at it curiously as he moves it around as if appreciating the artistry. He hasn't studied every aspect of handguns but this one looked very different than the guns he’s held before. He whistles and nods his head in appreciation. “This gun’s quite the beauty.”

Traum firmly grasped the gun as the gargoyle slowly headed toward them. Well, slow to him. There was a flicker of something red in the corner of his eye as he was thinking about it, but it vanished a moment later. It could be... Something. But most likely nothing- a source most likely from his own paranoia than whatever Jack was planning. He looked to where he saw the blur to double-check, but there was nothing.

He's not here, and even if he was, there's no way the speedster figured out who Traum really was.

The shrill of the tile floor cracking under the weight of the gargoyle’s heavy footsteps was enough to bring him out of his thoughts. What was peculiar about the weight of the steps and the way the ceramic began cracking upon the point where the foot first made contact… it was like it was really made of stone, for the heels to not move as if they weren’t elastic and imbed themselves unto the floor. But if it was solid stone, how was the gargoyle capable of movement? He might have to break a portion of the creature for future projects in petrification.
Darkeyes gave a deep breath, and as if with great tiredness, reached out- pulling from a deep well of unknown power as the shadows surrounding them became darker, making the dim light seem brighter by contrast, much like how the moon usually seemed all-encompassing when the sun falls from the sky. Except, instead of moonlight, the main source of light in the room was red.

Traum couldn’t help but think of blood as the shadows began to drip down and pool towards the creature, dark lines which quickly began to wrap around the monster as it became stuck to the floor. In the inky blackness, there was a sort of quivering, as if the binds themselves could fall apart at any moment. The creature tried as it could, but it couldn’t pry itself from the floor nor break the chains that now bound them.

Was this magic? Seemed very different from what he saw before. With what seemed like a grimace, Darkeyes looks at him.

”This one work?”

“Let’s find out…” Traum answers, with a curious look at the new display. “Hopefully this shouldn’t take long.”

Traum approaches the creature, still holding the gifted gun but ensuring that he wasn’t in arm’s reach of the creature with the binds in mind. In the other arm, his extendable pole was hidden beneath his sleeve. He gestures with a quick nod for Darkeyes to follow him.

“Now that we have your attention, I’d like to ask you a few questions. If you answer them, we might consider letting you go to go back to doing whatever God knows whatever you things do. If you don’t, I get to have some fun, and you’ll wish you never existed. You’ve only had a small taste of what we can do.” Traum points at the chains with the gun.

“Three questions. Every time you piss me off it’s another question. Answer directly and we won’t have any issues. Question 1: Why are the sleeping people here still alive, completely uninjured?”

The gargoyle roared as it attempted to swipe at Traum while bound. The claws reached inches of his face, but he didn’t feel the need to even flinch here. It might break his character immersion, but he wanted to show he meant business. He needed answers.

Or not. “PISS OFF!” it roared, opening its dimly glowing mouth to spit red hot droplets at him, spit leaving black scorched marks where it rolled along the floor. It wasn’t some sort of acid, it hardened. It was lava: molten stone. Suddenly, it made sense how it could move the way it did- its joints were molten, allowing for freedom of movement. Though, if it was a conscious choice to have certain parts molten and others not, It might have had an easier time breaking through the chains. Which means that it just gave away its weakness.

Perhaps it wanted Traum to shoot him in the joints so that the lava could leak unto the shadows and dispel them? He had a better idea though.

“Bad answer, looks like you have four questions to answer now. Kinda glad though, this gives me an excuse to really experiment, you know what I mean? Hey Darkeyes, I need to borrow your handy popsicle knife.” He quickly slides the gun he had in his hand into one of his pockets and reaches out with his free hand so that it could be handed over.

“Or, if you like, you can try it out. I think I figured it out: his joints are probably made of lava." Traum smirks and shrugs with an attitude that seemed to finally match his youthful appearance. "Cool it down and we might not even need to bind him.”

This might shed some insight as to what Darkeyes is conformable with, too. Who is he, anyway?

Ancient curse? He wondered if the man was talking about his runes or the inherent nature of this city. Human thought was the kind of that that brought about many things that a more rationally minded person might look at with heavy skepticism. Metahumans who could demolish cities was possible but magic might have been a step too far beyond believable. Did it matter if he explained it to this man? He wasn’t sure if he was a man of faith and if so, which one that might be. They tended to be annoying, especially when dealing with the concept of him being any parts demonic. As if his soul were something tainted beyond any kind of salvation.

”Good to know my knowledge was wrong and ancient doctors never cut into people,” Samael noted with an almost wry sarcasm, handing over the gun with what seemed like not a care in the world. If the man turned it on him, well it would likely break through his veil but do him no meaningful harm. He wouldn’t get the chance to fire a second round. A second voice, oily and dark offered a logic for why.

Because he’d be dead before that.

”Suppose so,” Was all he said. He preferred his guns of a workable quality, which meant they all were forged with metals that both held and didn’t drain the magic put into them. He didn’t need them doing something like breaking, misfiring or even using up all the power in one shot. ”I assume you know how guns work. This should be able to stop almost anything we come across in its tracks,” Of course that was because these bullets could punch through steel plating many inches thick. Maybe even tungsten though he never had the chance to test that theory. Werewolf flesh, even older or more durable strains stalled when hit with a bullet imbued with that kind of power.

As he trussed up the demon, he noted it wriggling and writhing against his hold. Kill it kill it! The voice became more bold as he had to draw more and more upon his power. A sort of pounding in his head compounded with a burning feeling in his body that felt almost...good. As if one false step and he would sink deep underneath a pleasure he didn’t want to rise from. With each intrusive thought he bound the thing as tight as he could, knowing it could do nothing against him.  The shadows were after all, too strong for it to do anything against. The demon roared at the man asking it questions, unwilling to respond with anything aside from rage fueled scorn. It was almost amusing how it thought it had any choice in the matter.

”Its joints are made from lava you say? I think that’ll make this easy,” He approached,  brandishing the dagger and giving it a  small flourishing twirl in his hand. Making sure the demon could see the rune inscribed along the length of it.  It’s eyes were resistant before a sort of recognition came across them and then fear.  It didn’t have the time to beg before he rammed the dagger into its right elbow, instead opting for a howl. The luminous light beneath rocky flesh began to rapidly cool, as a frost that would even dim the blood fo the earth itself spread through its arm. ”Treachery. It’s a rune that became popular a century after the publication of a certain novel,  not really useful for daily application but it’s best used for cooling heat that any other kind of ice magic is useless against. Afterall, its the only frost that can survive in the heart of Hell itself,” In that sentence he stabbed the dagger into another elbow and then a knee, leaving it for the most part crippled.

”Gargoyles like yourself are more akin to golems, demonic as you might be. That means so long as the core isn’t destroyed you’ll remain conscious, alive and feeling. Must be a pain.” The last leg, his desire to hold back on such a thing nonexistent. ”So, feeling a little more talkative?” The sound of grinding stone follow, it’s tail thumping to the floor audibly.

”Answer the doctors questions. Do it and I might consider leaving your core intact,” Those pitiless black eyes bore into its molten ones.

”You bastard,” It croaked weakly.

”Irrelevant. So, why are the sleeping people untouched?”

”B...because he doesn’t want them touched. He’ll...do much worse to us if we lay a finger on Any of them, he said so himself,” He managed, despite the weak and wavering words that revealed the info.

”Who said you can’t?”

”HIM! The God of Nightmares, the demon that changed your city of vice into a den of nightmares. A feeding ground for all. What I don’t see is why...ugh...you of all would want to side with weak things like these.”

This weak creature makes sense. Kill it and the human. That inner voice urged. It never spoke this much, it never spoke at all, not through a voice that wasn’t his own, not internally like this.

”So, Traum. Any other questions?”

"Good to know my knowledge was wrong and ancient doctors never cut into people,”

It was a funny thing to say. By the time his body could visibly react though, he'd already moved on from the joke. He wouldn't dignify such a remark with a laugh with this character anyway, so he gave gave a nod instead.

Past doctors did cut into people, that was the problem; it was a myth because it called for people to swear on the ancient Gods of healing- gods like Apollo, Asclepius, Hygieia, and Panacea, and swore that should the oath be broken, the gods would take their knowledge. But even Greeks, without knowledge of surgery, amputated as a last resort. Such an oath could not last, and since the gods are a myth, such a punishment would never occur- that's why it never caught on. It was rediscovered 15 centuries later and used as a framework for other oaths, but the actual hippocratic oath is no longer used. Depending on which school you want to, each oath is different. They weren't enforced either, merely a promise made.

Traum was self-taught, but he has his own oath that doesn't rely on some make-believe deities. He swears to someone else, someone who only lives now in his memories... The parts of him he wishes he could still remember like he does now. His perfect memory begins where his rebirth started unfortunately, but some part of him refuses to let go of that past, sacred due to it's scarcity in his own mind.

His oath did not give a shit about demons, hell, it wasn't even human-specific. It was why he was going to relish in the torture of this creature. It was why he allowed himself to slip from his persona momentarily, and even invited his current companion to inflict the pain as a means for analysis.

Darkeyes's reaction to the invitation was... Unexpected. The man had brandished his dagger for a bit just so that the gargoyle could get a look good look at it... and it actually recognized the rune despite not even being a "true" demon. It reacted quite visibly, and since the seem to be a random demonic creature- it must have been some well-known rune to them.

Even the name: Treachery. It must be some form of demonic magic used to go against the nature of the demons themselves. Given from Darkeyes's advanced knowledge about demons and unusual magic, he obviously had some sort of connection with the demons. He could be a knowledgeable demon hunter who likes to use demon magic, or he could be some sort of demon himself. Traum was given a bigger hint with the gargoyles words:

"What I don’t see is why...ugh...you of all would want to side with weak things like these.”

Darkeyes is clearly different in terms of raw strength, that was true. He had restrained the creature using something that definitely wasn't what looked like runic magic- some sort of innate magic. The gargolye was implying some sort of hierarchy revolving around physical power, and expected Darkeyes to understand as well- so much so, that it would be unexpected for someone especially like him to not do so. Was it an innate understanding that demons shared? Is it an ideology from a different world?

The gargoyle was able to acknowledge Darkeyes due to this understanding. It was forced to comply to his demands- restrained and effectively powerless now, yet failed to acknowledge Traum for identifying the weakness- perhaps Darkeyes already knew?

Traum was tempted to guess where the core of the gargoyle was and shoot there for the insult, - him, weak?- but he stopped himself while lifting the barrel to point.  There really was no point in doing so since he himself told it that they would let it go if it cooperated. Besides, the information this creature had may be crucial for figuring out what was going on here. If it was necessary for him to be seen as weak, then so be it. Darkeyes seemed to be handling the intimidation fine anyway. That said... the man already knew about the core that golems had- so was he pretending to know less than he did?

Was this man actually just a demon in disguise, toying with him and the gargoyle? Darkeyes was certainly convincing, he'll give him that. Not only that, but is anatomy seems to resemble that of a human, aside from the mist and dark blood. Perhaps he was only half-demon? He'll need to take a look at the anatomy of a few other demons just to make sure.

”So, Traum. Any other questions?”

Traum had a great many questions, but almost all of them could be answered by Darkeyes later. Focusing on the objective, he started- by glaring at the demon.

"Where are the demons and nightmares coming from? I know you've been around long enough to know what that rune means, so you must have come from somewhere.

Did this so-called 'god' come up with the nightmares, or was it something that came from people here?"

Samael turned the floor back to the doctor. Waiting patiently, dark eyes focused between the two of them.  It was quite obvious this man had never dealt with anything even remotely supernatural before. Metahumans were one thing, but demons as well as other things were different entirely.  Most normal people freaked out about this kind of thing, so this man seemed to be taking this quite well.  So the man questioned the demon, asking simple enough but important questions that he was sure would help them with their situation. He had a few ideas who this god of nightmares was but he wanted to see if this thing knew too.

”He’s...existed for a while but as a god...more recent,” It managed to choke out through the pain. Did they feel pain? It was possible, considering the thing was in essence living rock, made mobile through molten joints. Each uncomfortable sound was like music to his ears. ”He is no creation of man,” The thing sounded almost zealous, though it also said nothing of importance.  There was something off about all this.

”Anything specific you know about this Nightmare God?” He questioned, handling the dagger and looking into the fiery pits it called eyes. ”I know how much to make you hurt you without killing. So don’t spare any details,”

”I don’t know,” He growled, not even being given enough time to retract that statement before Samael let the daggers tip press against it’s chest and scrape across. Steel against stone, frost spreading through the hot rock and bringing with it a pained howl.

”I really hate lies. Don’t try it again,”

”Fuck you raven boy,” It spat, a glob of molten earth that hit him fresh across the face. He wiped it away, letting it spatter and hiss across the tiling. ”Even if I did know, like hell I would tell you. Whatever you can do is nothing compared to what he can do,” It growled, and he heard the tinge of fear within its voice.

”So you do know. How did Mad jack O’leary gain this kind of power? I know what he’s capable of but nothing to this level, there are only a few ways this could happen and none of them involve small fry demons like you,” He pressed the tip of the weapon against its chest. ”You’re going to answer. I don’t give a damn what you say otherwise,”

”He’s...existed for a while but as a god...more recent.”

The demon pointedly avoided the initial question regarding the source of the demons and nightmares, perhaps it was a more obvious answer. Traum needed to know if this ‘God’ was the one coming up with these nightmare constructs and the landscape or if the concepts were being pulled from the dreams of other people. Darkeyes made no remark about the avoidance, so perhaps he didn’t see it as important. Or maybe it was something he wished to avoid or didn’t want Traum to know?

”He is no creation of man.” The creature breathed as if honoring the mere mention of them, the gasp its own form of veneration.

What made the ‘god’ so respected? Perhaps it was the raw power they wielded, the way they used power the way a demon might respect: as a tool for destruction and subjugation towards those who are weak. Darkeyes steered the conversation before the statue could go further with its praise.

”Anything specific you know about this Nightmare God? I know how much to make you hurt without killing. So don’t spare any details.”

”I don’t know.” It growled as the dagger raked across its stony body, the frost leaving a pattern similar to how frost might paint a leaf on a windowsill, except snaking around the path laid like growing flames around a trail of split gasoline. One could hear the slight crackle as the molten stone underneath began to cool rapidly and harden disproportionally.

The way it flinched and reacted to the pain indicated something similar to a central nervous system that relied on heat rather than pressure. It seemed to always lead toward the chest area, which was curious. He could also tell how the creature was feeling and figured out a few other methods that could ensure maximum, functionally chronic pain.

”I really hate lies. Don’t try it again.”

Did Darkeyes have an ability that could tell if someone lies? Unlikely, considering how little he reacted when Traum introduced himself. Even the smallest reaction would have been noticeable with that much time on Traum’s hands. Either the dark-eyed man expected a lie or just wanted an excuse to torture the demon further or perhaps… knows a tell Traum hasn’t noticed?

”Fuck you, raven boy. Even if I did know, like hell I would tell you. Whatever you can do is nothing compared to what he can do.”

Ah, so it was a respect borne from natural fear and a hierarchy driven by power. Traum could strategically use this to his advantage, it just depends on how unstable the leader is. Hopefully, it's just Jack.

”So you do know. How did Mad jack O’leary gain this kind of power? I know what he’s capable of but nothing to this level, there are only a few ways this could happen and none of them involve small fry demons like you,” Darkeyes looked ready to impale the creature. Considering how the pain was inflicted before it appeared that sensation increased near that area, it was a nerve bundle. In fact, it's most likely where the core is actually located. ”You’re going to answer. I don’t give a damn what you say otherwise.”

So it was indeed Jack, then. Perfect. Darkeyes knows a lot more than he’s letting on. A scenario plays in Traum’s head if it turns out his companion was actually a demon. It would make sense for the gargoyle to withhold any information that would reveal the man’s nature, but it could also be the result of a miscommunication. Regardless, he knew he had to speak up.

He begins with a parroting of the previous remark. “Whatever we can do is nothing compared to what he can do, huh? Is that so?” He nods in understanding. “Buddy, if you can- break off his wings and his legs after shredding them a bit, he won’t need them to feel the phantom pain that will linger afterwards.”

“You know what? You’re absolutely right my stone friend. I hope you don’t mind if we hurt you anyway? Then, we can leave you here, immobilized, still alive, and utterly useless to your ‘lord’. I'm sure the God of Nightmares will treat you nicely when we reach him and tell him of allllll the info one of his lackeys blabbed to us, how the sleeping people were involved and an important part of the plan he constructed so carefully, how this minion gave us all the weaknesses we needed to undermine it… How he's in the 3rd floor of the Summerlin Hospital Medical Center unable to move, completely defenseless... why, it shouldn’t take him a second thought to do what you were so afraid of once he dealt with us."

The silence was palpable. Why would he admit to reporting the creature anyway? The answer was obvious, but he’ll have to spell it out to the golem just in case.

"Of course, he wouldn't manage to do anything if we succeed in dispelling his power, but in order to do that we'll need all the info you have. If he cared about your supposed treachery at all, then you're doomed regardless- unless we succeed. If he didn't care at all... well, doesn't make sense to try to withstand all this torture for no reason, would it? You already gave me enough information to formulate roughly ten plans anyway. Like it or not, you're already in the deep end."

Traum continued, slowly walking back toward the gargoyle.

“I wouldn’t recommend trying to give us false information to get in his good graces either. I’ve already established a psychological profile on Jack based on his past police reports, and his bloodlust is immeasurable; killed people close to him, people who took care of him- for no reason at all except for the fact that he could. The thought of you giving any information, even if it was false, would be enough to give him an excuse to make an example out of you. You wouldn’t be useful to him anymore anyway- you’re just a miserable clod, too weak to move – only good for inflicting pain onto until someone capable of seeing you as a valuable ally chooses to set you free.”

Once he was right next to them, he whispered, “That could be us, by the way.” Before stepping back to ensure Darkeyes had room to torture should the gargoyle once again refuse.

“Well? What’s it gonna be? If the worst-case scenario is gonna happen anyway, might as well give Jack a middle finger and get a shot at surviving to see another day. By the way, I don't give a crap about who 'made' him, I just needed to know if these... nightmares are ideas that came from other people's dreams.”

Samael did his questioning but he wanted to see what the doctor would do. There was something about him, maybe something off but he just wanted to see what he would do with a demon. Humans tended to balk, even crumble under the concept of their nightmares truly existing. Jack The Nightmare King was behind this but there were too many questions beyond that.  He’d chased something like this before, but he also heard that very thing was pushed from this world.  Unless his knowledge about the circumstance was wrong, which was possible but he didn’t want to jump to any assumptions.

So he watched, arms crossed over his chest and eyes fixated on what took place before him. There was mention of torturing the gargoyle further, making him useless to The Nightmare Pumpkin. Would jack do something like punishing a demon for giving out privileged information? His mind raced with these questions, along with other thoughts he didn’t want to entertain. Drawing upon his own innate powers didn’t make that any easier.

”If I gave ya enough to formulate 10 plans, you sure are wastin time on a grunt,” It managed, and he wasn’t wrong. Samael was already of the mind they should kill this thing, and all the demons crawling through the city for a matter of fact but he also had the feeling that this human wouldn’t approve of trying to fight an entire cities worth of demons.

Even still Samael let the tip of his weapon dig into the creatures chest, causing some chilling around the point. ”Agh….shit...of course these nightmares come from people. Can’t make nightmares from nothing you stupid fuck!” It growled in pain, trying futily to squirm away from the cambion that was causing it so much pain.

Pulling back the dagger, he looked to the thing with a harsh gleam in his eyes. ”If ya can somehow break the nightmares hold on this world I guess you can stop him but I don’t see you two doing anything close to that,” It added, trying to put a jab into that. Did it know how to do that? No, sounded like a powerful level of dream magic that he couldn’t even hope to approach.

”That all?”

”What’d you expect? I’m nothing, and the doc said he’d kill me for any little reason. So that’s all I can give ya,” Samael cocked his head, looking at it curiously.

”Okay,” The shadows wrapped around it, and within a second these threads of shadow became serrated and ripped through the stone body with a loud screeching of solidity through stone. The coals of its eyes becoming dead. ”I believe you,” It fell apart, scattering across the floor, core nothing more than dying embers.  He kicked the burnt out core against the wall, shattering it further. ”If these creatures are made from nightmares, we better hope that doesn’t include us. Otherwise something tells me even more people will die before the night is done,” With that he began walking down the hallway, looking to the massive hole punched into the wall.

”Follow me if you want or don’t, it doesn’t matter to me,”