The First Embers (Closed)

Participants: Daimon Hellstrom and Robbie Reyes
Open/Closed: Closed
Location(s): Professional baseball stadium in Jersey City, possibly elsewhere
Time of Day: Nighttime
Weather: Overcast
Summary: Interdimensional trespassers attract the attention of two people as similar as they are different...


The brazier flickered and snapped full of flames that burned without fuel. Standing before it, Daimon Hellstrom scowled deeply, his eyes radiating a steady, crimson light. To unknowing eyes watching the scene, with him curling his fingers and gesturing articulately over the fire, he may have looked insane. But to the wise, Daimon was scrying the globe through that bundle of light and heat, making minute reaches, scans and communications with the subtlest twitch of a finger or wave of an arm.

Since its revitalization, magical phenomenon had been much more prevalent in the mortal realm. That, in and of itself, was of no consequence or interest to Daimon. No, it was the particular uptick, just in the past week or so, in phenomena of a distinctly other-dimensional variety. Not the demonic sort, as was his usual focus. These came from all sorts of different planes of existence, but ones intimately linked: those Ten places ever bound by Yggdrasil.

The curiosity of the events might have been passing enough for Hellstrom, had Stephen not asked for assistance in looking into the matter. Daimon hoped that the Sorcerer Supreme's anxieties were baseless, but his history with the other magician weighed against that likelihood. Mid-gesture, Daimon scowled and reversed the motion. Then his lips split in a chilling grin and his eyes blazed brighter still. "Got you," he purred.

- - - -

The spirits of Muspelheim crawled over the baseball arena like termites. Their red skin sent the air around them to wavering, and quick motions would make them spontaneously combust for a moment before fizzling out. Daimon hadn't the faintest idea to their purpose - the arena was empty, not even the overhead lights on. The rampant destruction that they were causing didn't have a plain rhyme or reason.

Hellstrom materialized in a flash of flame on the pitcher's mound, propping his hands on his hips. The pentagram on his bare chest sizzled like liquid copper. "Midgard is closed for the foreseeable future," he said, voice booming over the scene with inhuman volume. The fire spirits froze in their acts and looked at him with empty, blazing sockets. "You have ten seconds to vacate the dimensional premises." Daimon looked down his nose at the nearest trespasser.

Rather than fear or caution, the creature bared pointed teeth and vomited a globule of plasmic heat at him. Hellstrom allowed the molten substance to splash over his chest, not phased in the slightest. "Really?" he asked. "Do you know who I am?" Daimon's temper flared, burning the already impossibly hot stuff off of his body. "You want to burn, vermin? Fine. Allow me to-"

Daimon was so bent on his warpath he didn't notice a parting in the fabric of space behind him, nor the monolithic shadow that the creature left in its wake cast over him. Not until it was too late did Hellstrom look up to see a large, ice-encrusted, azure-skinned fist hurtling down onto him like an avalanched. "Aw, ****."

Robbie Reyes

He'd say this wasn't how he'd expected to spend his night but honestly this was normal for him by now. It was the quiet nights that made him twitch. A spirit had come through his car - Yes, this was his life now. - with a warning. It was very possibly a trap but he couldn't really ignore it. The next thing he knew, his head was a flaming skull, his body was covered in tastefully tight leather, and his car was teleporting them all the way to Jersey City. He put his foot down on the pedal and the Hell Charger raced away, tires shrieking, toward the stadium. He could practically feel the magic coming from there - It felt... Wrong. He didn't think it was from this dimension but he was admittedly no expert.

Robbie glared as much as he could with his face being, well, a skull, when something rose in the stadium - something taller than the stadium's walls. He'd faced worse... Right? Well there was no time like the present to find out. He pushed the pedal flat to the ground. Right before he hit the outside wall, the Charger teleported the both of them inside the stadium. He circled the field in a blur, taking in the scene before him. Someone stood there, seeming to oppose the creatures. Someone who was about to get buried in the ground by a giant fist.

The wheels tore up the ground beneath as he directed the car to move. He was coming from the far side, behind the man. He drove straight at him. He needed to time this well or else he wasn't going to make that man's day any better and probably get himself marked down as an enemy rather than an ally. He turned the car at the last minute, throwing open the passenger side door. The car would admittedly hit the back of the man's legs but he'd apologize for any possible pain that caused later because that was technically his plan. He knocked the man so he'd fall into the passenger seat.

Once he was safely in, he reached across, closing the side door and speeding away mere seconds before the fist collided with the ground. He kept driving straight, the Charger teleporting them outside the stadium where it screeched as he hit the breaks and brought it to a halt. He was already rolling down the windows as he said to his new guest, "You're one of the good guy's right?" His fiery eyes cast a look at the other man, noting the pentagram, the way it sizzled. That wasn't normal but it seemed like his kind of normal - This was definitely his life now.

"Or do I need to put you in the trunk?" he added, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the trunk but neglecting to explain the portal to Hell it contained. He put the Charger in reverse. "Either way, we need to head back in there and send those things back to..." He paused, frowning in thought. "Hell? I'm going to guess Hell." He thought that was a good guess. "Unless you have objections?" Not that he was waiting for any objections. The tires screeched as he pressed down on the gas again, one arm slung on the back of his own chair, eyes behind as the Charger sped off in reverse. He wasn't trying to be rude; the situation just didn't strike him as one where he could afford to pause and form a direct plan. Too much seemed to be at stake.

The Hell Charger teleported back into the stadium, taking both driver and passenger with it.

---

609 words
Daimon Hellstrom

Even with the ice-encrusted, callused blue fist of a Jotun barreling toward him from above, Daimon sensed a particularly sinister demonic presence enter the field. The sound of hellish flames, screeching tires, spinning dirt, all mingled with the whistle of the frost giant's knuckles splitting the air. Impact thudded against his calves. Time seemed to slow as Daimon felt his body whisked away.

His back hit a leather interior. His head hit worn jeans. Daimon's glowing eyes faded at the shock of it all, until pale blue irises that hardly ever made an appearance stared up at the flame-wreathed, metallic skull head of the driver whose lap his blond head was laying in. The demonic car they were in screeched to a halt. Windows rolled down as the driver hurriedly asked a question.

Surprise was fading, and Daimon's irises kindled, then his eyes wholly reignited in yellow-gold light again that leaked perpetually along his lashes. "That is a highly debated question," he smirked, then grabbed the back of the nearest seat and levered himself up into a sitting position. He looked appraisingly along the inside of the car's cab while the driver mentioned a trunk.

Hellstrom could feel the split in dimensional fibers tucked away in that trunk. He filed that away alongside the damned spirit infesting the vehicle he now sat in, and the incredible power emanating from the driver - tasting a young, mortal soul within the body. "Interesting," Daimon murmured to himself, reaching out a hand to run along the dashboard. The spirit festering inside tried to instinctively lash at him, but must've sensed his power and thought better of it, recoiling instead.

"Depends on your definition," Daimon mused, when the driver spoke of sending the interlopers crawling inside the stadium to "hell." He might've been tempted to teleport back inside himself to continue business, but his rescuer - and that rescuer's car - were so very intriguing to him and the driver was already shifting gears to get them back onto the battlefield. So, instead, Daimon contently reclined in his seat, lacing his fingers and hooking them behind his head for added support.

"Technically not one of the official Hells, but Muspelheim certainly looks the part." The car launched backwards through a disc of fire, teleporting them through solid matter, back onto the field. Daimon's lazy grin ticked up even more at that, more and more amused. "Excuse me." Hellstrom grabbed onto the edges of the open passenger window and nimbly pulled himself through the opening, flipping onto the roof of the cab on both knees.

In his hands, his trident erupted into existence, boiling the air around it. Wicked sharp canine teeth flashed in Daimon's broad grin as he prepared, crouching now on his feet, and then launched like a missile toward the Jotun from before.

Robbie Reyes

He was pointedly avoiding thinking about the fact that he had some guy's head in his lap right now, especially when he looked down and saw those pale blue eyes staring up at him. He needed to know who he'd just picked up, though. Then the guy's eyes ignited like Robbie's own head and he smirked and oh Robbie was suddenly highly aware of the fact that his own clothes weren't the loosest. He swiveled his own eyes onto the road to make sure he wouldn't crash the car - though it'd likely just fix itself. He felt rather than saw when his new passenger was no longer resting on his lap following his unhelpful answer.

The fact that whether this guy was good or not was highly debated made him wonder if he'd made the right choice, saving him and getting him into his car. What if this guy was actually behind it all and it was all just some trap to lure a hero in? Well it probably wasn't a trap for him at least since they had just met and he still didn't even know the man's name.

...His name actually would've been a good question to ask. Oh well, he'd have to ask for that later. For now he was That Hot Guy - What? He was literally on fire like Robbie. The name worked. Especially if he only used it in his head.

He didn't notice That Hot Guy reaching to touch the dashboard or else he would have warned about the spirit it contained - or maybe not. He hadn't mentioned the portal to Hell after all. And if this guy was one of the bad guys then he should keep some tricks up his sleeves, right?

"Bless you," he said out of instinct as he drove backwards because Muspelheim sounded a lot like a sneeze to him. Though the phrase probably lost some of its touch when spoken by a Ghost Rider. He glanced over when he heard That Hot Guy say excuse me quite confused because what was he going to do - except he was already going out the window. He heard the thump of feet on the top of his car and scowled as much as he was capable of with his head being a flaming skull. "Hey! Watch the paint!"

The paint would probably heal itself if it got scuffed but that was besides the point.

He couldn't see what That Hot Guy was up to despite how much he craned his head out his own window. With a huff, he pulled his head back in and focused on driving right at the giant - probably a Jotun since Muspelheim had also sounded right up Thor's alley. Where was Thor when he was needed? He had to do a double take when That Hot Guy suddenly launched himself off the top of his car - hopefully he didn't leave a dent. His mental name for the man just kept becoming more and more accurate.

Robbie shook his head. He had to focus. He accelerated the car, summoning his Hell Chain. He leaned enough out of the window, maintaining one hand on the wheel, foot still on the pedal, his other hand out the window, twirling the chain. He managed to loop an end of the chain around one of the Jotun's ankles as it was probably busy being surprised by That Hot Guy - he couldn't look up to see how that was going right now. He had to focus. He turned the wheel, tires screeching. The car lurched toward the other ankle where he looped the chain again before driving off and pulling on the chain, hoping his car would be small enough to cause the Jotun to stumble - best case scenario it would cause the Jotun to fall flat on its face. Worst case scenario, the Jotun would prove stronger than his car and Robbie would be the one knocked down.

---

657 words
Daimon Hellstrom

Daimon would claim to not be a vengeful man. He would swear it up and down, on the threat of death. But the whole time, he and everyone who was listening would know beyond a shadow of any sort of doubt just how large of a liar he was. Yes, Daimon was undeniably and indisputably vengeful. What he was known for less was being petty. In this case, though, being rescued by a Ghost Rider or not, Daimon thought that the Jotun's impending fist from before, when his back was turned, was a special kind of affront.

So, the Son of Satan was prepared to be a little crueler and less efficient in his means of exacting retribution. In this case? By skewering one of the Frost Giant's eyes with his trident. The Jotun careened backward on instinct, clenching his eyelid shut, and the pale blue flesh of it hissed and steamed in acrid billows when Daimon's weapon cleft it open. Far more shallow a stab than he'd hoped for, but enough to force a deep, baritone scream of pain from the giant, and take one eyeball out of the fight's equation.

Daimon wrenched the trident free as soon as it'd landed, knowing that a large hand would grope that way on reflex from the pain, and twice as quick to try to pin him down. He dodged the hoarfrost-crusted knuckles, sliding deftly down the forearm of the interdimensional trespasser. When he made it to the crook of the elbow, Daimon checked his descent with another jab of his trident, using the weapon as a pivot point to swing. The weapon was left like a small, golden fork jabbed in the Jotun's arm while Daimon launched up past his shoulder to land on his howling head.

The wide grin on Daimon's lips faltered. He was distantly aware of the Ghost Rider's ploy down around the Jotun's ankles. More immediately, though, Hellstrom took stock of the new player on the field. Or, rather, the reconfigured one. Because half of the small fire spirits from Muspelheim had been at work in the past handful of seconds, throwing themselves at each other, fusing and clotting until an amorphous, vaguely humanoid giant of molten heat and wavering heat now lumbered toward them.

Daimon hissed a curse. He wanted to stay and finish with the frost giant, but the fire one would throw a wrench in the Ghost Rider's play. Rolling his eyes - though invisibly so, since they were nothing but orbs of fiendish light between his lashes - Daimon vaulted off of the Jotun's scalp, crashing into the fire creature with enough impact to buffet the stadium in a pulse of force and send it sprawling backward on its uneven, malformed legs.

Robbie Reyes

His plan was either going to go amazingly well or horribly wrong. Perhaps it could even go horrible well, if that was even an option. He couldn't really see what That Hot Guy was up to from his vantagepoint on the ground, focusing on driving. He could sense something else in the stadium but his focus was on the giant, the largest threat at the moment - to his knowledge at least. There was also still the chance the Jotun would be far too strong to be tripped by his car. Lucky for him, That Hot Guy seemed to have done something to throw the Jotun off. Whatever was happening high above him, it had caused the Jotun to stagger just enough.

Robbie had finished wrapping the chain enough around the giant's ankles and floured it.

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, he repeated in his head as he drew closer and closer to the chain being pulled taut. Then it happened. The Charger pivoted slightly and he pressed his foot even more on the gas, flattening the pedal. Fire blazed around the Charger's wheels and out from the exhaust pipe in the back. The car kept going, surging forward. There was a bellow from the giant that sound downright pissed off to Robbie's currently non-existent ears. Then came the large thud. The chain disappeared and he turned the wheel, tires screeching as he made a sharp u-turn. As he turned, he saw that the giant was indeed down - and had taken out a large chunk of the stadium with his (their? Its? What pronouns did Jotuns use?) fall.

Hopefully the stadium was insured. Games would certainly be postponed but he'd never really been much of a sports fan - at least not big enough of a fan to care.

He was briefly aware out of the corner of his eye that That Hot Guy was now fighting... Whatever it was that was trying to form out of fire. He resisted the urge to make an out of the frying pan and into the fire joke despite the fact that as far as he was aware, he'd be the only one that heard it. Maybe he should help-- Oh the frost giant was trying to get up. Of course it was. They never knew how to just stay down, did they?

The Charger sped off, lifting into the air this time. Window still rolled down, Robbie kept one hand on the steering wheel as he leaned his free arm and head out the window. The Jotun's eye seemed to be injured, he noticed as he drew closer. Must have been That Hot Guy's handiwork. Harsh but clearly effective. Not that a Ghost Rider, including himself, was one to judge.

He formed a ball of hellfire in his hand, throwing it directly at the injured eye as he drove - flew? - by. The Jotun snarled as it hit its mark but still, unfortunately, had one good eye. A hand reached out and before Robbie could tell the Charger to teleport, far too large fingers wrapped around the vehicle and threw him as if he was a pesky bug. The Charger went flying toward the other side of the stadium, crashing harshly into the stands. The impact made Robbie's head fly forward, smacking his forehead against the steering wheel and dash.

"Ow," he grumbled as he rubbed his head. There wasn't a bruise, he knew that - he was a flaming skull at the moment. There wasn't really anything in that area to bruise. He opened the driver's side door and got out. The Charger... Well it'd been in worse shape before but it'd certainly be in better shape. To say it was dented would have been an understatement. If he wasn't Ghost Rider, he probably would have been in worse shape too.

But the Charger would heal. It always did, even back when he hadn't wanted it to. It would just take time.

Robbie huffed out a sigh and summoned his chain, wrapping one end of it around one of his hands and turning to see the Jotun getting back to its - his? Their? Whatever - feet. It looked like he'd have to do this the hard way.

---

699 words
Daimon Hellstrom

The sensation was definitely bizarre. Under his palms and knees, Daimon could feel both the countless individual spirits clambering over each other to join forces as well as the greater hive mind they were assimilating. The conflicting and paradoxical presences might have twisted Daimon's mind, but he'd encountered more than a few hellspawn with similar makeups. That helped him ignore the chatter of psyches, just then.

"I admire the tenacity," Daimon grunted. With his bare hands, he started tearing into the chest of the fiery creature. Each strike and lash of his fingers sent the shattered remnants of a lesser fire spirit falling behind him to totally snuff out of existence before hitting the ground. "But you have to see how hopelessly outmatched you are." Daimon leaped up several feet, using his nails to run a groove in the humanoid shape's neck area. The head dislodged and toppled, but one of the arms grabbed it, reabsorbing the knot of spirits.

Crshshh!

Daimon looked over his head to see the dust settling from the Ghost Rider's car, planted in the stadium stands like a meteor. The Rider himself belatedly staggered from the driver's door and, shaking a daze off, conjured an iconic length of chain. Daimon smiled in sly satisfaction. Not only at the Rider's durability, but at the idea that had just jumped into his head while watching.

The being Daimon was fighting tried to reach for him, but he vanished in a pulse of balefire. "Would you mind," he said, suddenly standing beside the Ghost Rider, "using that chain to tie up our new friends when I say to?" Daimon's wicked grin didn't wait for confirmation. Instead, he gestured articulately. The pentagram on his bare chest blazed brightly and a complicated diagram of symbols that hurt the eyes to look at blazed under the fire creature's uneven feet.

Another flash of light and the creature was swallowed by darkness. A third, and it was vomited back out, fifty feet above the Jotun. The frost giant had enough time, after the shadow fell on him, to look up and grunt in question before the two collided in an explosion of steam as icy skin met molten. "You're up, boy," Daimon said coolly.

Robbie Reyes

Robbie had just noticed the fiery creature That Hot Guy had been fighting when said guy vanished and suddenly appeared right next to him, causing him to admittedly and embarrassingly startle. Thankfully the flaming skull head meant any blush he might've had as a regular human wasn't seen. He tried to cover it up and act all calm and collected. Before he could even agree to the plan, That Hot Guy was off doing... Well it was either magic or powers (possibly both) but either way it looked impressive. He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing and how he intended to get the two beasts close enough to tie them up with his chain but his curiosity was soon answered.

The creatures collided and steam filled the stadium. Robbie just had time to frown at being called boy by someone who surely couldn't have been that much older than him before he knew he had to get to work. He leapt out of the stands and away from the healing Charger, landing on the stadium grounds and running to get close enough to attempt to see through the steam. There was only so much his eyes, even as Ghost Rider, could see so it was more of a leap of faith and trusting his instincts.

He threw the chain, willing it to loop and loop, the length of metal expanding to be as long as he needed it. There was a clang as the end of the chain hooked onto the loop and he could already feel the captives struggling to get free while their contact created more steam - He was fairly certain he could also hear some sizzling. His feet slid on the ground as they struggled, pulling on the chain and threatening to yank him into the air.

With a thought and a single glance behind, he called on the Charger. It was still dented in far too many places but the vehicle responded, teleporting to his side. It took far more strength than he was comfortable admitting to pull the chain enough to hook it to the front of the vehicle. He quickly slipped in, not bothering to close the driver's side door, and shifted the car in reverse. He wouldn't be able to drag them, he knew but he stepped down on the gas, tires screeching and throwing up dirt and grass. The goal, after all, wasn't to drag them but create enough of a pull to combat their struggling and keep them restrained against each other.

Robbie had a feeling the goal of That Hot Guy's plan was similar. Fire and ice didn't mix, after all. There was a chance they'd damage each other enough that they could easily be sent to... Wherever That Hot Guy had said that had sounded like a sneeze. There was also a chance they'd damage each other enough and just, well, die. Honestly he'd take either of those end results. But it wasn't as if That Hot Guy had gone into details regarding his plan. There might have been more to it, Robbie had no clue. He just needed to focus on not letting these monsters get away. He'd been trusting That Hot Guy up to that point, it seemed the best course of action was to continue that trust.

---

552 words
Daimon Hellstrom

Good. The Ghost Rider was much better at playing with others than any of his predecessors that Daimon had had the misfortune of meeting. Quite contrarily, this younger model even expounded on Daimon's idea, summoning his possessed car to help keep the two elemental giants knotted together. The Son of Satan chuckled in satisfaction at the huge plumes of steam filling the center of the stadium.

"Things are about to get hotter," he said, his voice carrying to the Ghost Rider's ear despite the chaos and how conversationally he said it. Daimon waved his fingers, conjuring a cord of red light in front of him. He snatched each end with a hand, pinching them, connected the two into a circle.

As soon as the shape was sorted, it flashed and was gone, but its effect was immediate. The boiling mass of fire demons that had congealed into a solid form quadrupled in heat, letting out an even brighter flash of light and an explosion. Daimon shielded his face with an arm, but not from the glare.

With the flash fading, all that was left of the Jotun was a molten crater. Meanwhile, hundreds of smaller fire demons fell like ash through the air, having gotten so strong by Daimon's spell that they couldn't hope to keep hold of one another. "Bit of a head's up for you: that thing I just did may have made this group a... touch feistier."

Robbie Reyes

"Things are about to get hotter."

Robbie blinked, or rather he would've if he had eyelids at that moment, unsure if That Hot Guy meant literally or figuratively. Probably literally. Hopefully literally. Either way, he was bound to find out real soon. And when he did, he wasn't disappointed. He could feel the magic the other man summoned. There was a similarity to the feeling of the Hellcharger, enough to make him suspect it could be demonic or hellish in origin, but it felt much, much more powerful. Who the f#$& is this guy? The Hellcharger hummed - it felt more like a hiss - around him. He didn't think it appreciated another hellish fiend so close to them.

Deal with it, he thought at the vehicle. Yes, there was a chance that That Hot Guy was only an ally for this fight. There was a chance once things were done, he'd turn on him. But there was also a chance he wouldn't. Not everything with hellish origins were, well, hellish. After all, a Ghost Rider would know that. He'd just have to make sure he was as prepared as he could be for both possibilities. Being blindsided wasn't on his to do list. Neither was being blinded but thankfully that wasn't a possibility right now. Still he grimaced as best he could out of instinct at the sudden bright light, resisting the urge to put the sun visor down because that would've just looked stupid.

He leaned farther out the driver's side window once the light was gone. Well... At least the icy one wasn't a problem anymore. But uh - um - Yeah, did the fire ones, while smaller and um more numerous now, look stronger? He pulled his chain back right as he heard That Hot Guy's voice again. He revved the engine. "Great," he grumbled to himself because unlike someone, he wasn't able to carry his voice easily over all the noise. So he settled for voicing his complaints to himself and his car like was probably expected of men his age. He needed a plan. Fire just made these guys stronger apparently - which made sense, especially if they were from the same source as That Hot Guy's powers.

So if they couldn't kill them...? Because honestly fire was his main thing too.

Robbie looked behind him. He put the Hellcharger in park and popped the trunk climbing out. His chain rematerialized in his hands as he moved to the trunk. He wasn't too concerned about being attacked yet because the fiery guys would probably have it out for That Hot Guy after the stunt he'd just pulled - hopefully forgetting that it had been Robbie who had held them together with that icy dude for the moment. He opened the trunk wide, a portal to Hell staring right up at him. One hand still on the hood of the trunk, he looked up to find That Hot Guy, calling over, "Hey! Get them close enough and I can get them in the trunk!"

---

503 words
Daimon Hellstrom