Metropolis<br/>6.00 pm<br/>An apartment<br/><br/><br/>In the western side of the city in an everyday residence a much brooding figure pondered his next move in his couch. The hearth nearby radiated warmth and the fire illuminated the room just enough so that even the furniture and other accommodations cast ominous shadows that danced according to the flame's motion. The light smell of tobacco lingered in the room, a small cloud of smoke trailing from the pipe of the man wearing a bathrobe and paging through the latest issue of the Daily Planet. He looked remarkably similar to people featured on paintings that decorated the room, though the pieces of artwork were very old, the model almost seemed to be the very same man over different time periods: dark hair with a white streak, strong eyebrows and an intense look.<br/>The only sounds of the room where the cracking of fire and rustling of paper for some time now, but that was soon interrupted by the ringtone of a cell phone.<br/><br/>With a groan, the man set the pipe down carefully and folded the newspaper in his hands while he walked to find the device. He looked at the screen and decided to receive the call.<br/>"Hello, Randu." - he spoke into the phone as he set down the newspaper, with his eyes still drawn to one of the headlines: Metropolis Museum of History Reopening Today! Medieval European Exhibition now available with newly unearthed relics from Castle Branek.<br/>Castle Branek, underneath which he, Jason Blood renowned demonologist and scholar of the occult, found on that fateful days the words that destroyed his comfortable cage of ignorance, and awakened him to the terrible truth:<em>YARVA DAEMONICUS ETRIGAN</em>.<br/><br/>"I arrived around noon, there were no problems so far. If anything, it will happen at the museum, I'm sure of it." - Jason said to his friend on the other end of the line, Randu Singh, the blind mystic. He was a long time friend to Jason, and helped him come to terms with his curse - to be the immortal fleshy cage of a demon. Much has changed since he realized his situation, or that his memories were altered.  He recovered memories, and found himself involved with powers not of this world. After his latest trauma he and the demon formed a pact, and were now living in a sort of symbiosis... at least until either had the chance to win the upper hand again, though that possibility seemed small with recent changes.<br/>Speaking of changes, he couldn't help but ask Randu: "How is Glenda doing?"<br/>Glenda was his former girlfriend, who in the end couldn't put up with is lifestyle, or sharing Jason's time with Etrigan. She was better off without him, but he was still worried.<br/><br/>After a few minutes of chatting, Jason was satisfied knowing that things were as well as they could be back home in Gotham. He didn't feel like traveling to Metropolis, but recent news and shifts in the fabric of magic have prompted him to move. His occupation proved to be a pleasant excuse to get into the museum. The occultist and history expert giving a presentation on the legend of the Philosopher's Stone. Or more likely, making sure the the stone didn't get into wrong hands. He said his farewells to Randu and decided it was time to make his preparations for the grand reopening. Why they chose to hold the ceremony in the evening with VIP guests alone, he didn't understand or care. There was work to be done: the Phylosopher's Stone was a powerful magical artifact, and it commanded forces comparable to what Merlin possessed. Jason couldn't name or list them, but he was sure there were others who wanted the stone for their own ends, and in the wrong hands it could upset the balance of the magical world. No, this time things would go according how he wanted.<br/>He went looking for his suit and felt a presence inside him stir.<br/>"Spare me your painful couplets and get back in there. If anything happens, you might just get to have your fun." - with that, the presence withdrew for now. Jason knew it was still there, but at least it wasn't meddling.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Metropolis<br/>7.15<br/>Metropolis Museum of History entrance<br/><br/>There were quite a few people gathered in front of the museum, all journalists or VIPs in elegant suits and dresses waiting for the headmaster to begin his speech. Jason Blood was seated among the special guests, in the crossfire of camera flashes from eager reporters and their sidekicks. What he did notice that it was getting a little dark and foggy. What he did not see, was that the fog was slowly amassing to create a spherical barrier around the entire block. This would be easily spotted from say, the sky if someone were flying, but from the inside, it just seemed like bad weather.<br/>Jason did notice some sudden movement from the corner of his eye, but when he looked it was just a stray cat, probably afraid of the people. Still, something seemed odd.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The diabolical little figure smiled when his cat familiar returned to him. Klarion was looking for something that would allow him to be free and independent for a long time now. Relatively speaking of course, as he was hardly older that 15 or 16. The so-called Philosopher's stone these ignorant fools calling themselves adults came to glare at was in fact the thing of legend. With it's power, he'd have the necessary might to break free from stupid rules and the oppression he had to suffer by the hands of adults in his world. The witch-boy let his cat Teekl jump into his folded arms, and he started to stroke her fur slowly, while he reminisced about his parents objecting to him mastering the forbidden arts, and demonstrating his talents. What fine mice they made when Klarion finished his spell! Teekl let out a  grateful purr in his arms.<br/>"Soon my sweet kitty. There are so many things to play with here, I just don't know what to begin with." - with that he phased through the wall of the museum's main building and appeared on the inside. The museum's collection was truly fascinating, they had everything, from every corner of the world, let it be modern, Renaissance, medieval, or prehistoric.<br/>As he walked  down a corridor, feeling the pull of magical energies get stronger as he closed distance to the stone, Klarion suddenly found himself face to face with a security guard.<br/>"Hey, you there! Are you lost kid? The opening ceremony is still in progress you're not allowed inside yet-" - but the middle aged man was cut off as the witch-boy broke into a cruel smile and mentally commanded his cat familiar to pounce on the guard. There were going to be no more rules, no more telling what he could or couldn't do. In a few minutes, he could do anything...