Smashing Fuckheads {Bowie/Etreven/Takatori/Invite}

[Takatori]

THE SPIRELANDS STREETS
FEBRUARY 10TH, 2012
10:15PM

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!!

A huge explosion rocketed through the twisted streets of the Vatican City, the flames shooting high above them as cracks formed in the ground.  A figure was running ahead of it all with a grenade launcher in hand, legs pumping against the group of men following after.  Oddly enough, music was raging from what seemed like the figures back, a roaring guitar rift that cut through the air and offset the general "calm" (or what could still be called calm) of the area.  In reality, he just had speakers attached to his belt as he shot off another grenade behind him.  "I CAN'T HEAAAARRRRR YOUUUUU!!!"  He cackled as he suddenly shot off down another corner, mask obscuring his features.  Oh yes, Takatori was actually doing WORK right now.  And boy was he having THE BEST time!!  The demons that followed shouted after in frustration, bullets flying past him as well as who knew what else.  Probably blades of some sorts.  Or rocks.  Rocks always seemed to be flying at him on jobs.  Why the hell was that?  Did the earth have a fucking problem with him?  HUH?!  DID IT?!  

He slowed to a stop before the Railroad station and turned, a giant grin on his face not that the other men would be able to tell.  He was in his demonic form after all because he was fucking working.  "COME ON YOU NAZI SHITHEADS I'M WAITING!!  No wonder the Russians got fucking bored of your sorry asses."  He barked, reloading the grenade launcher as the group came running up.  It appeared that he had knocked one off, which meant four were left.  What sad little idiots they were.  They came running up right into his trap as more of Nevermore popped up and rained fire down onto their heads.  As the sparks flew and the men fell, Damian Cain just laughed.  With a giggle of glee he fired off another grenade that shot more flames upward, decimating the already bodies that were made of swiss cheese.  "THE ONLY GOOD NAZI'S ARE DEAD NAZI'S CUNT BAGS!"  He laughed up into the cool night air, his men snickering as they went to see if they could loot anything before vanishing off into the Spirelands.  While they did that, Takatori tossed the grenade launcher to one of them who caught it without fail, walking away from the scene with his hands in his pockets.  Or well, the pockets he chose to have form in those tight black pants.  

Badasses don't look at fires as they walk away, and Takatori certainly look back at ANY of the many explosions he had set off that particular evening.  Ahhh... what a good night.  The boombox continued to rage its screeching guitar and angry drums, the man making a point to not walk too close to that great spire that stretched up phalicly to the sky above.  He didn't need Lucifer coming down and telling him to shut the fuck up.  Then again... he'd probably just tell him to go up higher and drown it out.  Maybe not the BEST plan...?  But... ah fuck it.  He did like existing.  He supposed.

[David Bowie]

SUCH A LOUD SOUND.

Honestly, it really did... What's the word? It hadn't necessarily ANGERED him... Nor had it merely annoyed him... Huh... Hmm... IRKED. YES. It IRKED him! And with great cause; here he was, giving a nice concert performance near the Spirelands when BOOOOOOOOOOOM. EXPLOSIONS. Followed by the sound of some meager attempt to mimic his sounds, haha! What sort of "rock'n'roll" could ever dare touch the hallowed ears of the self-proclaimed KING of rock'n'roll? He'd been in the biz long enough to hold that claim well in fact; from the day of the lute to that of the synth, he'd rocked the world, though not as much until this current persona was formed. Though had he really known how awesome it was to be a rockstar, he'd have done it way sooner.

And the guy was coming closer, he noticed. Wat. Stopping his performance, David Bowie, in his mortal form for once, glanced behind him to his "band." In reality, there were four somewhat less intimidating demons that bore a nearly exact appearance to Legion. Except they all wore sexy hats. They also had way less souls in them than Legion usually did; his mere 200 were divided amongst the four, such that he could have a guitarist, a bassist, a keyboardist, and a drummer. Seemed like an awesome idea. Anyways, anyways. He glanced back to them, before turning to the crowd of demons before him. "Alright, it was fun playing for you all, but I'm afraid I have some business to take care of; quite sorry for the interruption, I'll continue the fun some other time." To the tune of a few disappointed demons, and a few succubi screaming how badly they wanted to sex him (it was tempting, but he had things to do first), he left the stage.

As he walked, his "band" merged back into his body, and he shifted in appearance from that of David Bowie to the twisted form of Legion he so adored to wear; Slenderman, he was, if Slendy wore tan pants and a brown vest, with a splendidly feathered hat. And shades that stayed on, despite an obvious lack of nose or ears. He was just that cool. Oh, and the GLITTER. SO MUCH GLITTER. Made him infinitely more intimidating, as did the four pink tentacles, equally glittery, writhing around, sprouted from his back. As such, he approached the man making such a horrendous racket.

"Oi, you there. What do you think you're doing?" STEP ONE. Call out the rude man who interrupted his concert and such. Accomplished. This guy looked like a walking fashion disaster, to boot... Though he wasn't wearing crocs, so it was fine. For now. "You do realize I was playing a concert for my adoring fans, yes? Now, tell me, luv; what right do you have to interrupt that with your explosions and..." He scrunched his face up in detest, as he pointed at the source of the AMATEUR rock music. "That. Have you ever actually heard music, even? Here, try this." Reaching into his pocket, then, he withdrew... An iPhone 9. How, nobody knows. Considering Apple is NOWHERE NEAR AN iPHONE 9. "It only has my music on it. Enjoy~" And at that point, it would be fairly clear who the Trendy Slendy lookalike was, should the demon listen to such glorious musicz. If the fact his voice sounded like a combination of a heavenly and demonic choir hadn't been ENOUGH of a hint, that is.

[Etreven]

With the squeal of rusted brakes and the loud, penetrating hiss of steam, the Spirelands-bound train came to an uncomfortable and somewhat abrupt halt in the main station of that vile and corrupted city.  The doors of the third car from the front shook with a bang but remained closed for a moment.  Two angry clangs crashed out behind them before both exploded away from car at high velocity, smashing through the bodies of a handful of lesser demons who had stood loitering about the station.  Calmly, Etreven walked through the large opening that had once been the train car doors, carefully running an increasingly crimson-colored cloth along the length of a saber.  Behind him lay a haphazard collection of demonic body parts and assorted gore, over which stepped a large, heavily armored demon (or at least so it appeared).  The demon followed closely behind Etreven, his spined face twisted into something of a wild grin, even as Etreven's face remained blank and dispassionate.

Dressed in a black keikogi and hakama, he moved slowly across the thrumming plaza, taking the time to take in the view of Lucifer's twisted city.  His eyes lingered at the varied demonic forms and more notably, the splendor of the architecture throughout.  "And here I thought you told me all of Inferis was wasteland, wreckage and ruin.  It appears Lucifer isn't lacking for style, though I can't say that surprises me."  From across the plaza, he heard the distinctive sounds of a David Bowie cover band, of all things.  Etreven wasn't a man used to surprises, but this was a wholly new experience because Ymir, damn him, had found it amusing to wait until his partner had discovered it for himself.

It had been a simple decision to make the sojourn once Ymir had revealed just how deep the rabbit whole went.  After all, long study of the occult could easily become something of an obsession, and knowledge of the existence of an entire hellscape?  It would be an impossible temptation to resist.  So they'd crossed over where they could (first into that frigid wasteland, the Stygian Tundra) from which Ymir had been so kind as offer the suggestion that they travel by train to the Spirelands.  Ymir had alluded to the fact that he had something of an announcement to make and that both their goals were best met by trekking to Lucifer's very Spirelands.

And so he'd spent nearly seven hours under constant assault, cutting through fallen cultists, toothed horrors and the occasional train hobo (mostly by mistake).  The train, it turned out, had not been a wise idea.  Ymir had spent the entire time exultant both in the tribulations of his partner as well as in the violence he was now able to partake in.

Oh no, the demon himself wasn't here, but the mere projection of his essence was enough to constitute a physical presence.  Thus the demonic projection walking just behind him through the station plaza.  And difficulties aside, it had so far turned out to be an extraordinarily……enlightening journey.  Oh, you are very much not alone in this power, Etreven.  But most of these others…ritualists, they're called…they serve petty demons.  Lesser creations and abominations of Inferis.  But some of them?  Some of them are powerful enough to be useful.  And that had been enough.  Ymir was a manipulator, but Etreven knew well the game he was playing and had long since mastered the art among mortals.

It was a challenge, a call to action.  It was time to play the game on a bigger board.

"Ah, His majestic demonic spire.  Beautiful, don't you think?  It's always being built up, enslaved demons working on its construction eternally.  Constant, unending toil.  Perfectly imperfect isn't it?  Just like Lucifer himself.  The demon grinned his jagged grin, impaling a lurking demon he had gauged just a bit too close to allow to live.  As he tore the quivering corpse apart he open that toothy maw to speak again when…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM

Etreven stopped for a moment as Ymir tossed aside the remainder of the defiled corpse he'd suddenly lost interest in.  Out of the creeping horror of that plaza came running…….a madman?  A warlord?  Some new sort of demon?  None of it would surprise him, not yet when he was still taking in all the information.  But he was also entirely unsure of what he was watching, even as he heard the source of the explosion shouting out in German.  The left corner of his mouth twitched, the closest he was coming to amusement.  Or perhaps amusement's sister emotion, curiosity.  Either way, Ymir's attention had moved from the source of the explosion back onto Etreven.  This whole journey had been something as a test, he was very aware, and even know he was aware of that grinning face and constant scrutiny.  But he simply didn't care, there were more important pieces joining the board.

"COME ON YOU NAZI SHITHEADS I'M WAITING!!  No wonder the Russians got fucking bored of your sorry asses."  Now Etreven was flat out amused, remembering the handful of assassinations he'd overseen the last time he'd been on business in Germany.  Was there promise in this one perhaps?  In the meanwhile he noted that the inexplicable David Bowie cover band had……dissolved?  At the very least it had appeared to reform into a single figure.  Ymir's attention had moved to that man, who was now approaching the one who'd set off the explosion that had distracted them both.  And that was when Ymir began to laugh, a horrible, guttural, preternaturally deep laugh that shook his whole body, a sound that filled up the plaza and was absolutely going to attract attention.

Of everything that he'd seen that day so far, nothing had surprised him as much as what he was witnessing right now.  That massive, self assured, horrible mass of spines had broken down laughing and he hadn't the slightest idea why.

"And THIS is what's become of the mighty LEGION!  And here I'd suspected our work might be difficult!  HAH!  Lead on disciple, it's about time we made our introductions."  Etreven nodded, blank faced as ever, stepping over the offal at his feet and moving surely in the direction of the two.  Ignoring the exchange currently ongoing, he shouted out (very pointedly in German) "DO YOU OFTEN FIND YOURSELF BLOWING UP NAZIS HERE IN INFERIS?"

[Takatori]

Maybe he'd head down the square and go somewhere else.  Regal Necropolis was rather nice this time of year, wasn't it?  Plenty of fucking shitbags for him to--"Oi, you there. What do you think you're doing?"  Oh what-the-fuck-now?  Takatori slowed to a stop at the sound of an angry voice and the quick amount of FUCKING SPARKLING THAT WAS SHINING IN HIS GOD DAMN EYES.  His hands twitched in his pockets as a faceless, tentacled, glittered-to-pixie-land-and-back son of a bitch came walking up to him.  Ah shit.... that was one of 'em big demons, wasn't it?  Legion.  Funny, he never really imagined the fucker to be covered in fucking glitter, did that make him some shitty vampire from some shitty series?  Hell if he knew.  The tall man stood with the slightest hunching of his shoulders, black slits of his mask staring despite the pain of it.  He wanted to punch him.  He just glittered too damn much.  "You do realize I was playing a concert for my adoring fans, yes? Now, tell me, luv; what right do you have to interrupt that with your explosions and..."  As David Bowie scrunched up his face and pointed, Takatori merely glanced back towards the belt on his waist as his music blared, grateful that his demonic form gave him a mask whose expression did not change.  So he raised his head again to stare at him from behind it, not really plussed anyways by his coming accusation, "That. Have you ever actually heard music, even? Here, try this."

The hell was this shit?  He took the iPhone 9 that was offered to him and stared at it for a moment, remaining as silent as ever since the mans approach, already aware that another one was watching them.  He was Legion.  Seemed legit.  "It only has my music on it. Enjoy~"  Ugh.  Seriously.  He did pocket the iPhone for the simple fact that it was a 9, completely assured that he could find someone to jail brake it for him so he could do whatever the hell he wanted on it.  But, Takatori merely leaned forward as those unmoving lips spoke, "If you can't even focus on your concert while shits going down, how can you even focus in bed?"  He asked quite simply with a grin beneath that mask, straightening up slowly as he started to move around the man with his music still blaring.  Oh he was NOT turning it down for anyone, not even for an Archdemon from another realm.  And-- Who the FUCK WAS LAUGHING NOW.  His head turned a bit as a man and a.. thing.. came striding up.  A spikey thing.  Dude looked like he belonged in that-- ah fuck what was it-- OH RIGHT.  The Tower thing from Lord of the Rings.  "And THIS is what's become of the mighty LEGION!  And here I'd suspected our work might be difficult!  HAH!  Lead on disciple, it's about time we made our introductions."  

You know, he hated being right sometimes.  And he hated when people came out of the goddamn walls and began talking to him for no fucking reason.   At least this porcupine hadn't come from behind at him.  Then that would have made matters worse---"DO YOU OFTEN FIND YOURSELF BLOWING UP NAZIS HERE IN INFERIS?"  He stopped in his footsteps again, now turning to face the Porcupine with his music now blaring towards Legion a little, "No, I blow them up on Earth--OF COURSE I BLOW THEM FUCKING UP ALL THE FUCKING TIME IN INFERIS SHIT FOR BRAINS."  He snapped, a hand reaching back as the boombox fell quiet.  The lack of sound that now existed made it painfully clear where exactly they were in Hell.  "Now, it would appear you two know each other.  Please, do continue."  It was a rather calmly said statement as he gestured to the two men that he had decided, for the moment, to call Glitterfest (or Edward, he was still deciding) and Porcupine.  In reality, he was well aware that Legion was bound to a human on earth.  A human that his father had listened to in passing that always made Damian twitch a bit.  David fucking Bowie.  And now he had an iPhone 9 stuffed with his music.  Hey, maybe some chick would dig that.  

Either way, it had grown quite tense quite fast, and quite quiet.  "Don't let me get in the way."  He grinned at them from behind his mask, taking a step back while bowing to the both of them with his long hair flopping slightly on either side of his face.  "I am but a humble business man here."  True but false.

[Etreven]

Etreven strode calmly across the plaza, ever closer to the angry demon he'd just shouted out to.  Ymir was silent but he followed, closing the distance between both duos.  "No, I blow them up on Earth--OF COURSE I BLOW THEM FUCKING UP ALL THE FUCKING TIME IN INFERIS SHIT FOR BRAINS." the angry one shouted back, and somewhere deep inside of Etreven a little shard of himself was amused.  Like laughter behind a shut apartment door at the end of a long hallway in a highrise apartment.  The feeling never reached his expression, even as he strode confidently up to a comfortable conversational distance.  "Well fuck," "You seem to be doing a damn fine job of it.  Just take a look at that pile of corpses.  Have to say it does liven up the decor around here."

He then turned very slowly to face the grossly be-sparkled performer who was now very near his right.  The sudden silence as Takatori's radio clicked off was practically menacing.  Something about the parties involved raised the hairs along the back of Etreven's neck.  He'd have been excited if he'd been capable of excitement.  "And as for you, my companion here calls you Le.... he spoke before being interrupted mid sentence by the hulking brute just behind him.  "A servant of Legion.  And so very, very old.  Tell me, old bard, when did the multitude gift you with their form?"  Etreven took the queue to back off, letting Ymir sort out this so called Servant of Legion.  He was still soaking in the information, learning about this place, making certain he had the tools to survive.  It had been practically trivial this far, but something gave him the impression they were on different turf now.  Care needed to be taken with the beings they met.  And sooner or later he was going to drag the whole story out of Ymir.  For now though his attention shifted back to the demon before him.

Etreven returned the offered bow, deeply and formally, not a hint of a contrivance.  He responded with just a hint of sarcasm in his tone, "And is that business the dealing of death?  Or something less interesting I wonder?"  A little prod, and perhaps a risk to try with one such as this, but he needed more to work with than the information he'd been given so far.  It was time to listen and pay *very* close attention.

[David Bowie]

He could tell by the man's face- masked as it may be- that he didn't quite care for this conversation. A man's eyes told all, and the eyes seemed to be the only thing peeking out of the guy's mas- hey, wait a minute. How could Bowie even see the guy's eyes, when he himself lacked such a commodity...? How did he see anything for that matter!? HOW DID HE SPEAK!?!? OR HEAR? OR... OR ANYTHING!!??!!?? No matter, fridge logic aside, he could tell the guy wasn't pleased, much like an expert gambler can tell when to fold'em and when to hold'em. Honestly there was no reason for him to be angry with the rockstar; he was simply superior to the demon in every single possible way ever! He even looked misleadingly like an archdemon! Not many could say THAT, eh? EHHHHH? Yeah!

Oh, and FINALLY the man's boring shroud of silence was cast aside. The former Roman grinned, and for once, it was a visible grin, nine jagged rows of [DATA EXPUNGED] revealed themselves, as if from [CENSORED] on his mannequin-like face. A legitimate [REDACTED], if he did say so himself. But this eldritch Lovecraftian smile did dissipate. "A fair argument, a fair argument indeed. Though really, I've only been in the music biz for what, fifty years now? As for sex, oh... Seven centuries experience. I'd like to say I'm far more skilled at the latter than the former, luv." He was about to go on and make SMALL TALK. WONDERFUL GLITTERY SMALL TALK. But then a man and a... Spiky thing? Spiky thing. A man and his pet spiky thing approached.

"Yeah, and if this is what's become of the mighty Legion? Who's asking?" That was certainly one way to get on the glittery man-diva's bad side. And to make matters worse, NOW THIS GUY WOULDN'T SHUT UP. "HEY. I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR VARIOUS NAZI-SLAUGHTERING FETISHES. NAZIS, BEEN THERE, DONE THAT, MOVE ALONG." Honestly, World War II? What, did they ENJOY modern history or something? When HE thought of the worst enemy he'd ever fought, his main thought, after HORDES OF SCREAMING FANGIRLS (oftentimes a bit more friendly in bed than enemy), would have been those blasted um... Well, whatever/whoever he'd fought in the Crusades. He honestly couldn't remember, it'd been so long.

After a brief rant in German, matching both of his new friends rather complimentarily, he managed to catch the first demon's comment. "I've never seen these two in my life; I know you better than they, really." Well, he still had no idea where he would have gathered THAT idea from, but hey, the music had stopped, much to his relief, although one couldn't well see it in his nonexistent facial features. And now, as he pondered the first, the second, and by extension, the third, spoke up. The man giggled in that abominable chorus he called a voice. The spiky demon looked and sounded rather old; he assumed he'd know the old tongues, and after a moment of speaking, he went on, as the demon seemed to grasp his words. "Indeed, old I am, I admit. A servant of old Legi-poo as well. But call me a bard again, and I'll ram my tentacles in your orifices, kay, dear?~ " He laughed again, clearly finding the prospect of rather brutal (and spiky) tentacle rape amusing. Amusing. Such a frightening thought.

"As for when I was given my powers, it was towards the end of the 1200s. Since then, the Knight Templar, Vedillo di Giovanni has eh... Metamorphosed, shall we say?~ It was a drastic improvement; Templars are so terribly drab." And now he'd likely confused the other two, who presumably didn't know Latin. Or they could have, either way; it tickled his funny bone that he could converse so well beyond the language barrier, and then suddenly shift back, such that he was more understandable to those around him. Amusing, it was. Though not nearly so as Takatori's deep bow and statement of his profession. Bowie chuckled to himself, deigning not to return the bow, for such is the hubris of immortality and man conjoined. "A businessman, eh? Of the pedantic peasantry variety, or of the slightly-less-so illegal variety?"

[Takatori]

"A fair argument, a fair argument indeed. Though really, I've only been in the music biz for what, fifty years now? As for sex, oh... Seven centuries experience. I'd like to say I'm far more skilled at the latter than the former, luv." Fifty? Doubtful--- A single eyebrow raised at the "centuries" part and once again, Takatori was reminded that in this fish bowl he was but a very young minow. Sad thing that. Oh well, at least it meant he barely ever drew attention except for when he pulled stunts like this. Wasn't his fault though considering he was paid to do it. And if he was getting paid, then fuck it. Still, in any case, it wasn't like his music was that impressive. Ugh, he was pretty sure that his father had listened to some of his shit. "Yeah, and if this is what's become of the mighty Legion? Who's asking?" Somehow…. he was having his doubts about this initial assessment. Whatever. The fucking sparkles were seriously starting to ANNOY THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF HIM. Huh, the military man beside the Porcupine was smiling now, making Takatori raise an eyebrow at the sudden change. What, had he amused him somehow? Like he was some fucking clown? "Well fuck," "You seem to be doing a damn fine job of it.  Just take a look at that pile of corpses.  Have to say it does liven up the decor around here." Pile of…. had he even LOOKED at what he had…. ARGH! His eyebrow twitched behind the mask as he slowly glanced behind him towards the smoking fleshy remains that were scattered back in the alley and along the street where he had been roaming. Oh sure… the "pile" of bodies that were just laying SO VERY HIGH. The corner of his mouth twitched in some agitation, "HEY. I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR VARIOUS NAZI-SLAUGHTERING FETISHES. NAZIS, BEEN THERE, DONE THAT, MOVE ALONG." What the--- His fingers twitched ever so slightly in his pockets.

That was it. This fucking Sparkles shithead was going to die. "AT LEAST I'M NOT A SPARKLY VAMPIRE TWAT WAFFLE." He snapped, standing up only the slightest bit taller as he cracked his neck. Ohhhhh was his mood so very fucking SHOT right now. "And as for you, my companion here calls you Le.... A servant of Legion.  And so very, very old.  Tell me, old bard, when did the multitude gift you with their form?" Ah. Well then. A servant of Legion. He didn't feel as bad for raging at him then because it meant it wasn't an Archdemon and thus a death sentence. Still, who the hell was Porcupine? It was really starting to make him prickle since it was clear that he was also rather old despite how young his apparent host was. Shit… was he older than Damian himself? Fuck would that be disappointing. Pfft, NOT. He was done with those fuckers in life, and now he could continue his antics without their fucking interference. And it was SO much more interesting down here anyways. And the secretaries were far sexier. Heh.

Aaaaand then SHIT IN A LANGUAGE HE DIDN'T FUCKING UNDERSTAND. "-It was a drastic improvement; Templars are so terribly drab." FINALLY WORDS. It was making him half tempted to try Russian. "And is that business the dealing of death?  Or something less interesting I wonder?" Well-- "A businessman, eh? Of the pedantic peasantry variety, or of the slightly-less-so illegal variety?" Oh for the love of-- "DON'T FUCKING ASK ME AT THE SAME GODDAMN TIME A PERSON CAN'T FUCKING ANSWER ITS SIMPLE FUCKING LOGIC." He snapped at both of them, glaring between the three that were gathered there before him. A brief moment of silence followed which he took the time to take a calming breath, his shoulders hunching over slightly as he leaned towards them. "Now," He began, gesturing with a black gloved hand back towards the smoke rising in the distance, "I deal in what pays, what won't leave me feeling so very fucking bored." He explained in a strange sort of lilt, a hand coming up that moved while he spoke though its gesture generally remained the same. "I'm an Agent of Chaos so to speak. THAT is my business gentlemen." Good. Now they should have some vague semblance of a picture. His hand opened as he gestured to the three of them with slightly raised eyebrows, "Should that be something of an interest in partaking in, there is a group called Nevermore that you should join. If not, then who gives a shit." He seriously doubted that the Mr. Sparkles would want to. However, Porcupine and his companion were another story entirely. He had a feeling that there was potential for mutual business between them. What exactly that business could be, he had no idea at the moment. But he was sure it could prove… lucrative.

[Etreven]

Every sentence sounded in Etreven's head like the clack of a chess piece being moved.  The words of the others were loud, but internally there was only the echo of that greater game.  It hadn't taken long for a plan to fully formulate, the right moves to be planned.  But only one of these two fit into it.  The other was going to be the sparkliest impediment he'd dealt with in some time.  Still, when you had a world to ruin one could never work hard enough.

Dealing with an archdemon in any capacity was off the table for now.  Too much hinged on staying off their radar for him to risk reaching out to the shiny ritualist in the bad legion costume, no matter how desperately they were in need of cannon fodder.  The angry one on the other hand……well, they could always use more blunt objects.  Particularly ones with such transparent motives.  Easy to satisfy, if you were willing to play on their terms.  Cash and violence were like gods to this one, and that meant they could most definitely do business.  This wouldn't be a relationship of loyalty, but it could most certainly be profitable to both of them (at least in the short term).

But first he had to deal with Mr. Sparkles.  "Yeah, and if this is what's become of the mighty Legion? Who's asking?" he had said, losing his toothy grin in the process.  Clearly his ego had been pushed, a mistake Ymir seemed fond of making.  Etreven was sure his demonic companion simply enjoyed making life more dangerous for him, but that certainly wasn't going to get in the way.  But before he had the chance to respond and defuse the situation, the walking glitter bomb decided to show off his knowledge of dead languages.

"Indeed, old I am, I admit. A servant of old Legi-poo as well. But call me a bard again, and I'll ram my tentacles in your orifices, kay, dear?  As for when I was given my powers, it was towards the end of the 1200s. Since then, the Knight Templar, Vedillo di Giovanni has eh... Metamorphosed, shall we say? It was a drastic improvement; Templars are so terribly drab."

He hadn't understood a word of the old tongue, but Ymir certainly had.  And Ymir was not pleased.  "I would think that a millennium of life would have more finely honed your sensibilities.  Or does it simply amuse you to quietly belittle and threaten those you do not know?  If I had meant offense, you would know, servant of Legion.  And your master would not so casually threaten one such as me.  But know this, I will not tolerate such threats idly.  Were I you, I would choose my words more carefully about now."  The situation was tense, and Etreven needed to keep himself on his toes, yet the opportunity before him was not yet squandered, so as Ymir spoke words he could not understand he chose to turn his attentions to the other demon.

He listened as the demon spoke, "I deal in what pays, what won't leave me feeling so very fucking bored.  I'm an Agent of Chaos so to speak. THAT is my business gentlemen.  Should that be something of an interest in partaking in, there is a group called Nevermore that you should join. If not, then who gives a shit."  No, he wasn't looking to partake directly in chaos, but he knew just what use said chaos could be.  It was time to make a move.  Kings rook take pawn.

Reaching into a pocket near his belt he withdrew a single card.  Black card stock, lettering in light metallic grey bearing the word "Greyscale".  There was contact information, though likely it wouldn't much matter Inferis-side.  He handed it to the bowing man and spoke, disaffected and clear and in the Russian dialect he had heard the man shout out earlier (without a hint of regard to the exchange between Ymir and the horror factory beside him), "If you're in the business of chaos, we might very well have a deal to be done.  You see, I'm very much looking for…professionals like yourself willing to take on some very interesting wet work in exchange for ample pay.  The organization I represent wants some very…specific demons dead and is willing to provide substantial compensation to those who might be convinced to help shake things up."

The smirk was gone, this was all business and he needed the demon to buy into it.  He was unstable, that was certain, but potentially controllable.  Etreven simply wished that tensions were running lower than present, or more usefully to be representing his needs on somewhat more neutral ground.  Oh yes, when he returned to the Stygian Tundra it was time to commandeer a center of operations.  Provided things didn't go too south here and now...

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