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With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Thread Fourteen)

I don't really remember what Satanus actually did that Paul is apparently rather enthusiastic about seeing him executed.
He almost turned Paul into a demon and allowed villains to have unfettered teleportation to anywhere on Earth via Hell. Though it may just be because Paul sees that Satanus is a powerful and irredeemable villain and really wants to get rid of him as it would make the world a better place, something that he wants.
 
He almost turned Paul into a demon and allowed villains to have unfettered teleportation to anywhere on Earth via Hell. Though it may just be because Paul sees that Satanus is a powerful and irredeemable villain and really wants to get rid of him as it would make the world a better place, something that he wants.
Quick question: are we talking Original Satanus or Fake Satanus?
 
I feel like this arc ends with John as a whole being reformed. Technically that includes the demon.
I feel this might result in John as a whole being de-formed.
Like, recombine John Constantine's many selves and powers into one whole, then split him apart again into a family of fraternal twin selves with a hive-mind telepathic link between them, everyone gets everything, but its all diffused, no one gets a concentrated piece of X or y or z, no one gets all the chips magic or all the order magic or all the demon magic, instead you have a dozen mediocre John Constantine knockoffs who can never pull off Constantine-tier disasters except by working together as a team.

It's foolproof.
 
I don't really remember what Satanus actually did that Paul is apparently rather enthusiastic about seeing him executed.

The first time he showed up he staged a terrorist attack that killed over 40 people, he later started distributing a drug that turns people into demons, helped free Oceanus, tried to turn Paul into a demon, helped criminals etc.
 
jet engines are called turbo engines, which doesn't.
It makes perfect sense. "Turbo" means "powered by a turbine" and the earliest practical jet engines were turbojet engines. In this universe, public discourse clearly chose to abbreviate the "jet" part instead of the "turbo" part -- which actually makes MORE sense than what we chose in our universe, because strictly speaking rockets are jet engines, but they're definitely not turbo engines.

"This is one of their tanks.
You mean "one of their barrels", right?

I don't want Britain expanding at the expense of its neighbours, I want human civilisation in space to be British.
Semicolon instead of comma.
 
It makes perfect sense. "Turbo" means "powered by a turbine" and the earliest practical jet engines were turbojet engines. In this universe, public discourse clearly chose to abbreviate the "jet" part instead of the "turbo" part -- which actually makes MORE sense than what we chose in our universe, because strictly speaking rockets are jet engines, but they're definitely not turbo engines.
Not to this SI, it doesn't.
You mean "one of their barrels", right?
No.
Semicolon instead of comma.
Thank you, corrected.
 
At least they made it to Fate's tower relatively in tact.
 
For the record, "superbomb" was used for a bit as the popular term for a nuke before the fact that it was based on fission was released ("Army's New Superbomb Wallops Japs Again!" and the like), and indeed, if these were fusion (hydrogen) bombs instead of the fission (uranium) bombs used in combat IOTL, the original code phrase for them was "'Super' Bomb," to limit the spread of the knowledge that they were fusion devices; that was dropped entirely after we confirmed that the Soviets had independently developed a Teller-Ulam fusion design.

"Turbo" engine annoys me for the same reason "turbojet" became "jet" in popular use IOTL--there were already "turbo" engines in use. Most of the high-altitude fighters and bombers from WW2 used turbochargers (or, as they are more technically called, turbosuperchargers) to be able to breathe at 30,000 feet; if you just called it a "turbo" engine, then you have to differentiate from a turbocharged engine that uses an exhaust gas turbine to pump more air into the intake manifold.

Who would think that one of the most powerful beings in the universe works as a reporter?
Very first thing I thought of:

 
Tower Offence (part 6)
8th November 2012
11:01 GMT -5?
20:02 GMT?
31:65 GMT -17?


"There's something very wrong with these clocks."

Dr. Balewa looks at them for a moment and then nods, smiling. "Ah! I see."

"See what?" Alan looks at the clocks and then frowns. "Thirty one?"

"Not everywhere uses the same clock. There are parts of reality folded away from the world, and it is useful for Fate to be able to discover what the time is where they are."

"Alright, but the day is twenty four hours long. If they divided the day into a hundred parts then I'd get it, but that clock has forty five numbers. Was there a human civilisation that used to divide the day into forty five?"

"I do not think so. But the arc of the sun is a conceptual element thet is just as susceptible to manipulation within a part of the Earth-sphere thet has been twisted out of alignment as any other."

"I mean, twenty five hour, I'd understand-."

"Is this the sort of thing-" The Demon Constantine picks himself up from the carpet. "-superheroes talk about?"

Alan shrugs. "I tried getting them into football, but it turns out that it's not all that popular outside of the US. Did you find a trace yet?"

"I did, but I don't know if we can dodge the tower's spirit to get there."

"I haven't seen it for a while. Are you sure it's still active?"

"There's a limit to how much I can prod these spells without setting something off. As far as I can see, the detection network is still active. Exactly where it goes?" He shrugs. "Can't be sure."

"Doctor Mist?"

"I do not have Constantine's advantage when it comes to avoiding detection. And I am… Eh, somewhat behind in my studies of thaumaturgy."

Alan looks thoughtful. "So, can we just ask the spirit? I talked with it a few times in the forties, and it was always helpful."

"Maybe. And maybe it turns on the Tower's defences and phones the new boss." He shrugs. "Up to you, mate."

Sanderson shakes his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. I mean, we snuck into his house. I'd be mad if someone did that."

"Constantine, do you have a preferred first name?"

"Yeah. John."

"We can't have three John Constantines on a single mission. It's too confusing."

"Quinn's not a Constantine."

"Really? Because this whole mission is premised on the assumption that he is, and if it turns out that John the First really did just pick some Welsh guy I'm going to feel very stupid."

"I mean, he's not-. He doesn't have the right attitude. He hasn't suffered like Constantines usually do. Not just me, or whatever John 'the First' gave me. Look at our family tree and you'll see a bunch of men who scraped through by the skin of their teeth. And getting their teeth ripped out in the process. Quinn never had anything like that happen to him. He's not used to losing."

"That just suggests that the Constantine line has produced someone capable of exercising good judgement and not getting in over their head." I look away for a moment, taking in the clock room's many clocks and trying not to look at the dials. "Can you find John the First?"

"No. I can find where he's been, but Quinn's not going to put him somewhere without wards."

"Would John have given him the memories of how to remove magical traces?"

"We're out of luck if he did."

"How about Quinn's traces?"

The Demon frowns. "No, I can trace those easy enough. Why?"

"If we know where he goes a lot, we can avoid those areas so we don't bump into him. But he'd have to visit John the First sometimes." The Demon doesn't look sure. "Wouldn't he?"

"Depends where he put him. Last time I saw him, John was a leaking hole in the arcane universe filled with conflicting energies. Place as orderly as this, you should be able to feel him."

Sanderson looks concerned. "He's not dead, is he?"

"Doubt it. Think we'd all know about it if someone pulled that off. And you'd have found me off me face in a bar hosting the biggest booze-up ever. So? Marching orders, el comandante?"

I nod. "Look for paths he uses. We'll check each of them."

"Could be here a while. But since none of us age, who cares?"

"My girlfriend-." / "What do you mean?"

I frown at the clearly unnerved Sanderson, while The Demon openly scoffs.

"You're eighty years old and made of dream sand. What, did you still think you were human?"

"Seventy… Five. And yeah, I kinda did."

The Demon grins, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Heh. Yeah." He turns away and walks through a doorway. "I've got a trace. Don't know exactly where it goes, but it's probably not going to be a fuckin' race track."

Alan lays his right hand on Sanderson's shoulder, giving The Demon's back a mild glare. Personally, though… Isn't it a straightforward upgrade? His human body is human enough for ninety nine percent of the time, he gets a useful sand form and medium grade immortality. So The Demon's saying he's… What, that his human form is a dream so strong that it affects reality? Might mean that he can't have children naturally, but there aren't a lot of seventy five year olds who can do that.

I'll talk to him when we get out. Alan will commiserate with him, but I can emphasise the positives.

But since we're going deeper into the Tower of Fate, it's time for heavy armour. I rise a little way off the ground, the comforting bulk of my power armour appearing around me. And just to be clear what our purpose is, I write 'detain' in white paint on the larger armour plates.

"Everyone?"

Alan nods and construct armour appears around him. Dr. Mist shimmers faintly as he invokes his own protections, and after a moment's delay Sanderson's outline blurs as he converts his body to human-shaped sand.

Then we slowly walk after The Demon Constantine.
 
Last edited:
For the record, "superbomb" was used for a bit as the popular term for a nuke before the fact that it was based on fission was released ("Army's New Superbomb Wallops Japs Again!" and the like), and indeed, if these were fusion (hydrogen) bombs instead of the fission (uranium) bombs used in combat IOTL, the original code phrase for them was "'Super' Bomb," to limit the spread of the knowledge that they were fusion devices; that was dropped entirely after we confirmed that the Soviets had independently developed a Teller-Ulam fusion design.
Thank you, corrected.
 
looks at the for a moment

"at them"

"Is this the sort of thing-" The Demon Constantine picks himself up from the carpet. "-superheroes talk about

Some.

Alan shrugs. "I tried getting them into football, but it turns out that it's not all that popular outside of the US. Did you find a trace yet?"

Oh, it's popular, but it's not your type of football.
 
But since we're going deeper into the Tower of Fate, it's time for heavy armour. I rise a little way off the ground, the comforting bulk of my power armour appearing around me. And just to be clear what our purpose is, I write 'detain' in white paint on the larger armour plates.
You can paint power ring constructs? What happens when he dismisses them or their destroyed?
 
8th November 2012
11:01 GMT -5?
20:02 GMT?
31:65 GMT -17?


"There's something very wrong with these clocks."
...That's not an understatement. 31:65 GMT? What kind of planetary rotation is that tied to? A yo-yo? Or one with multiple suns? See, this is why most fantastic 'otherworlds' still work on a roughly 25-hour day. Less complicated for authors to keep track of.

Dr. Balewa looks at the for a moment and then nods, smiling. "Ah! I see."

"See what?" Alan looks at the clocks and then frowns. "Thirty one?"
Maybe the place it counts for is a giant planet with a longer day? Just don't go reading the labels, it could be some mind-breaking arcane script.

"Not everywhere uses the same clock. There are parts of reality folded away from the world, and it is useful for Fate to be able to discover what the time is where they are."

"Alright, but the day is twenty four hours long. If they divided the day into a hundred parts then I'd get it, but that clock has forty five numbers. Was there a human civilisation that used to divide the day into forty five?"
To be fair, the division of time is largely arbitrary, beyond 'early light-time', late light-time and 'dark time'...We only use the times we do (60 seconds, sixty minutes, twenty-four and a bit hours) because maths.

"I do not think so. But the arc of the sun is a conceptual element thet is just as susceptible to manipulation within a part of the Earth-sphere thet has been twisted out of alignment as any other."

"I mean, twenty five hour, I'd understand-."
Much closer to the human biological tempo, innit? And a little less imprecise when it comes to counting solar orbits.

"Is this the sort of thing-" The Demon Constantine picks himself up from the carpet. "-superheroes talk about?"

Alan shrugs. "I tried getting them into football, but it turns out that it's not all that popular outside of the US. Did you find a trace yet?"
No, you mean 'hand-egg.' Most of the world plays sports that don't require play to stop completely every time someone get tackled...

"I did, but I don't know if we can dodge the tower's spirit to get there."

"I haven't seen it for a while. Are you sure it's still active?"
And does it still wear Kent Nelson's face? Or has it updated to resemble John? ..Ooh, let's hope it doesn't share the original Constantine's personality.

"There's a limit to how much I can prod these spells without setting something off. As far as I can see, the detection network is still active. Exactly where it goes?" He shrugs. "Can't be sure."

"Doctor Mist?"
Great. So the rogue doesn't know how the traps work or how to disarm them, the wizard can't detect them easily, and the Clerics might have trouble healing. :rolleyes: A fine adventuring party this is...

"I do not have Constantine's advantage when it comes to avoiding detection. And I am… Eh, somewhat behind in my studies of thaumaturgy."

Alan looks thoughtful. "So, can we just ask the spirit? I talked with it a few times in the forties, and it was always helpful."
Well, that depends. Do you trust it to treat you as guests, not intruders, since you didn't exactly get security passes at the front door...

"Maybe. And maybe it turns on the Tower's defences and phones the new boss." He shrugs. "Up to you, mate."

Sanderson shakes his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. I mean, we snuck into his house. I'd be mad if someone did that."
Feeling a bit guilty? But breaking and entering is a fine vigilante tradition, don't you know? Might be harder to make a silent exit, Batman-style, but still...

"Constantine, do you have a preferred first name?"

"Yeah. John."
That won't get confusing at all, no sir. :rolleyes:

"We can't have three John Constantines on a single mission. It's too confusing."

"Quinn's not a Constantine."
Now hang on, didn't you say he might be like you, or was that someone else?

"Really? Because this whole mission is premised on the assumption that he is, and if it turns out that John the First really did just pick some Welsh guy I'm going to feel very stupid."

"I mean, he's not-. He doesn't have the right attitude. He hasn't suffered like Constantines usually do. Not just me, or whatever John 'the First' gave me. Look at our family tree and you'll see a bunch of men who scraped through by the skin of their teeth. And getting their teeth ripped out in the process. Quinn never had anything like that happen to him. He's not used to losing."
...Oh. He's not a Constantine because he didn't earn it in blood and pain. Petty.

"That just suggests that the Constantine line has produced someone capable of exercising good judgement and not getting in over their head." I look away for a moment, taking in the clock room's many clocks and trying not to look at the dials. "Can you find John the First?"

"No. I can find where he's been, but Quinn's not going to put him somewhere without wards."
So, much like storing a loaded firearm, then. One that's prone to going off half-cocked, and often while pointing at you.

"Would John have given him the memories of how to remove magical traces?"

"We're out of luck if he did."
Although doing so would mean removing his own memories of how to, and we know he's been covering his tracks well.

"How about Quinn's traces?"

The Demon frowns. "No, I can trace those easy enough. Why?"
Ever seen a carpet someone walks on a lot, compared to, say, a spot that's been under furniture for years? Quite a difference.

"If we know where he goes a lot, we can avoid those areas so we don't bump into him. But he'd have to visit John the First sometimes." The Demon doesn't look sure. "Wouldn't he?"

"Depends where he put him. Last time I saw him, John was a leaking hole in the arcane universe filled with conflicting energies. Place as orderly as this, you should be able to feel him."
OL can sometimes miss things as plain as the nose on his face, you know...

Sanderson looks concerned. "He's not dead, is he?"

"Doubt it. Think we'd all know about it if someone pulled that off. And you'd have found me off me face in a bar hosting the biggest booze-up ever. So? Marching orders, el comandante?"
Certainly, whoever managed that would be crowing it to the high heavens.

I nod. "Look for paths he uses. We'll check each of them."

"Could be here a while. But since none of us age, who cares?"
Hooray for semi-immortality.

"My girlfriend-." / "What do you mean?"

I frown at the clearly unnerved Sanderson, while The Demon openly scoffs.
Ah, he hasn't quite grasped the full implications of being silicate-based, hasn't he?

"You're eighty years old and made of dream sand. What, did you still think you were human?"

"Seventy… Five. And yeah, I kinda did."
Still says a lot that you had to take a moment to do the math, Sandy.

The Demon grins, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Heh. Yeah." He turns away and walks through a doorway. "I've got a trace. Don't know exactly where it goes, but it's probably not going to be a fuckin' race track."

Alan lays his right hand on Sanderson's shoulder, giving The Demon's back a mild glare. Personally, though… Isn't it a straight forward upgrade? His human body is human enough for ninety nine percent of the time, he gets a useful sand form and medium grade immortality. So The Demon's saying he's… What, that his human form is a dream so strong that it affects reality? Might mean that he can't have children naturally, but there aren't a lot of seventy five year olds who can do that.
And hopefully it's not a 'reverts human biology to previous saved setting' deal whenever he transforms, so he can let a little gray in later.

I'll talk to him when we get out. Alan will commiserate him, but I can emphasise the positives.

But since we're going deeper into the Tower of Fate, it's time for heavy armour. I rise a little way off the ground, the comforting bulk of my power armour appearing around me. And just to be clear what our purpose is, I write 'detain' in white paint on the larger armour plates.
Even if said heavy armour hasn't exactly made a good showing of itself some of the last times you've used it?

"Everyone?"

Alan nods and construct armour appears around him. Dr. Mist shimmers faintly as he invokes his own protections, and after a moment's delay Sanderson's outline blurs as he converts his body to human-shaped sand.

Then we slowly walk after The Demon Constantine.
Well, at least they have a plan now...

And so the sneaky part begins... :p With OL putting himself in full plate. Better hope it's enchanted with silent movement. Meanwhile, once this is all over, Sanderson might need a little therapy, if only to help him come to terms with his new-found quasi-immortality. Assuming they survive the inevitable 'excrement hitting the rotary cooling device' that anything involving a Constantine, ersatz or not, tends to invariably descend into... :oops:
 
Most of the world plays sports that don't require play to stop completely every time someone get tackled...

And the name of the sport is an accurate description of what happens in it and what appendage is used.

Great. So the rogue doesn't know how the traps work or how to disarm them, the wizard can't detect them easily, and the Clerics might have trouble healing. :rolleyes: A fine adventuring party this is...

It wouldn't be a proper band of murderhobos if they weren't slightly incompetent.

Oh. He's not a Constantine because he didn't earn it in blood and pain. Petty.

He's a Constantine, so of course he'd be petty.

OL can sometimes miss things as plain as the nose on his face, you know...

Ohoh, yeah.
 
Alan shrugs. "I tried getting them into football, but it turns out that it's not all that popular outside of the US. Did you find a trace yet?"
I can't find the quote, but it reminds me of something Rupert Giles said : something like "I don't understand why Americans needs to wear pounds of armour to play rugby"
 
It's commiserate with.

Aww Sandy. Probably not great for his concept of self, but there are worse things than finding out you're immortal.

Though it would be utterly hilarious if Quinn really was innocent and/or not a Constantine.
 

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