Marvel Team-Up Presents:

Who: Caleb and Porter (cameo by Isabelle)
Where: Halls of the hospital
When: afternoon

Sure, in a literal sense the demons would be what killed him. But in a figurative one? It was the waiting that was killing Porter. Sitting in the kitchen with Medea and Isabelle, listening to the wind howl outside, knowing that danger stalked the halls around them. It was driving him mad. He'd been a supplicant to the girls, too; quiet when they were resting, talking when they were awake, and too on edge to really relax in either situation. For hours now he'd been waiting, ever since his talk with Caleb, and as impossible as Porter thought it was? He was running out of comic trivia to recall within the confines of his own head.

He was far from strong at this point, though the power curling inside him was reassuring all the same. It had to be enough, at least to slow one of the things and let him try to feed. And as horrifying as that prospect was, it was thrilling too. The hunger inside of him ached to be satisfied, and over the time spent in the kitchen it had gradually built up in one of Porter's feet to start a restless skitter on the floor in front of him. Digging out his phone carefully, Porter scowled as he saw the lack of reception, glancing at the time. It had to be dawn by now, right? Any moment now, someone outside of this place would be wondering why their teachers hadn't called to check in...

While there was most certainly a break being thrown into Porter's stillness, it wasn't from the outside world sending in the cavalry. It was Caleb. And it was less that Caleb did anything like knock, or call out, or anything. There was a rumble outside, a little shudder to the kitchen, and then there was a hard knock to the door, splintering it a little, and it dropped open. He hadn't knocked...he'd been thrown hard enough.

He'd warned people about the claws, and he'd felt them right before he got his ass tossed into the door. His side was raked, slashes along his ribcage, and for a second, he didn't move, he just laid there on his side, in the now open doorfame. In the hall, there was the obvious signs of wreckage, a little farther up. The floor was torn up in long lines, and there was a part of the hall wall that looked about ready to give. Probably one of the only things that kept it from collapsing was the snow outside that was piled up over halfway up the building. Dust was settling, and one of the demons was out there, and it grinned as it looked into the kitchen from just beyond the light cast from inside it.

So Porter being on his feet was more from fear than readiness. He was on his feet when Caleb came sprawling into the kitchen, and that was what mattered. His chest felt tight, guts churning when he saw the creature beyond the doorway with its' lips pulled back around fangs in a sneer. A chill raced up Porter's spine, shaking him bodily as the demon took a step towards Caleb, bending down towards him with a sadistic slowness. The kitchen only had the one door, and that meant they were trapped in here. That meant this thing wanted them to watch.

"It's..." Porter whispered, his jaw shaking from the chill of the building, "It's clobberin' time!" Both hands snapped up, palms out as rainbow energy exploded forth from Porter. One blast ripped through the doorframe, splintering wood and clouding the air with plaster dust even as the other slammed into the advancing demon, slinging it back into the ruined wall with a sharp crack. Porter stumbled forward, feet clumsy with nerves and the sudden loss of energy as he rushed to get to Caleb. "Stay here!" he yelled back at Medea and Isabelle, dropping low to try and pull Caleb farther inside.

Caleb was coming back to himself when he felt Porter grab him. He'd been about to hit up another spell--or that had been the plan anyhow. He wasn't nearly as coherent as that would have required in the moment, but being grabbed and the sudden bright shiny fucking rainbow bullshit helped out cognition a whole lot. He pushed himself up a little and pushed at Porter's hand, feeling the wet heat at his side where he was bleeding. "Stop--" he started, and as he saw movement in the hall again, he just acted, swiping a hand against his side, and he drew out a glowing red symbol in the air, the afterimages only just fading as he slapped his hand back down to the cold floor tiles. It was the simplest one, he couldn't do anything more with Porter being so close, so it was a single strike, but it ripped up through the floor and streaked out down the hall, the darkness giving a shriek somewhere in the noise of the destruction.

Porter didn't quite get it initially, why it was so easy to pull Caleb back a few feet from the door. The shock of seeing the spell helped, but so did the blood Caleb was soaking into his t-shirt and greasing the floor with. "C'mon!" Porter blurted, somehow picking out the sound of claws on tiles from somewhere in the halls. How much could one of these things take? It sounded like Caleb had hit it with... whatever that Dr. Strange-looking trick had been. And Porter knew he'd hit it. "Shit, man..." he blurted, seeing the red streak on the floor, "Oh shit you're bleeding!"

Caleb was more than bleeding. He was fucking sick, which he remembered from before, and he really needed to not be feeling dizzy. The bright pain he was feeling kinda everywhereish he could deal with. And, he concentrated on it in an attempt to keep himself focused. Coughing, he pushed himself to his knees, then he looked back out to the hall. "Not our problem." he managed to say, in answer to Porter's statement. Yeah, he definitely saw the blood streaked so brightly across the floor, and he knew he wasn't actually done bleeding. Especially not as the backlash from the spell he'd just done opened up on the back of his wrist, not even something he paid attention to.

"We need to not be in here." he said, glancing around quickly, to the girls, then back to the hall, where yes, he heard it out there too. The power out there was flickering, and he didn't know if it was from the storm or because he'd hit wires in the walls. It didn't so much matter, though.

"We could get back to the--" Porter had been about to say 'chapel' in spite of how it seemed to afflict Medea, because sickness was nothing next to these things, but then? Well, then four gunshots split the air from the chapel's direction, followed by crashing and growling sounds coming from both sides of the hallway. Were they in there as well as out here? How many were there? "Oh god... where do we go?" he asked Caleb in a soft, clearly freaked voice. There wasn't a shred of his hero ideals at the moment, this was so much worse and more horrific than he could've ever imagined it would be when using his powers to save people.

Caleb fought the wave of dizziness and the urge to push up and run off towards the chapel at the sound of gunfire. That was Dean. That meant they were getting attacked too. That meant everyone in there was in trouble. Nic was in trouble. Fuck. But he couldn't bail here for the moment either, he wasn't leaving the kid and the two sisters to fend for themselves, if he even made it to the chapel past the one in the hall cornering them. He did get to his feet though. He wasn't steady by any description, but he got to his feet. Blood spatted in a light patpatpat from the wound on the back of his wrist, and he kept his eyes out on the hall. "This is gonna suck." he muttered, and started taking a few steps forward, holding his arm against himself a little since it was that shoulder that hit the door first. He had his knife gripped in that hand, and he knew he wasn't going to get much of a chance to use it. He stopped, gritted his teeth against another wave of dizziness, then steadied himself a little better.

Isabelle had been watching the whole ordeal from behind Porter, cornered safely with her sister. While Medea was still quite weak, the worst of Isabelle's symptoms had left once they retreated from the chapel and she'd been feeling better, although she hadn't let on about that yet. When Caleb came bursting through the door and not of his own volition she'd shifted to block Medea, as if to protect her. Shifting had given her a front row of the action and although she was still scared a healthy dose of wonder had taken over. Porter's power was flashy, yet effective, just as Medea had described, but Lockwood...Just the brief flash of what he could do caught her off guard. She'd always thought he was special, but not like this. Caleb's injuries were more than evident, but she'd seen that power, what sort of destruction it seemed to make. Isabelle hoped for her own entertainment that he'd held back. "Lockwood!" she called out, her voice dripping with concern and fear. Her face contorted, showing the same fear and concern, even in her eyes. Before he'd just been a stupid boy, and fighting with him was for fun, but now she was starting to see that he could be useful, and it was time to make amends.

Torn in that moment, Porter looked back and forth between Caleb and the sisters with an expression that screamed of sick worry. He already felt like hell, who knew where Caleb thought he was heading too. And it wasn't like Porter was wild about moving the girls, either. "Isabelle..." he murmured, taking a shaky step after Caleb, "Jam up that door however you can. We'll make sure the hallway's clear, I'll pound on the wall. Or look through the damn hole." He didn't like it? But if that thing was still alive, maybe he had a chance to feed. And Porter didn't want either Medea or Isabelle to see that.

"Just...keep back, Ra Ra." Caleb said, figuring Porter's idea was just fine. She could barricade. That worked. Just so long as she was out of the way. He actually did hear the concern in her tone, he just didn't have time for it. Starting to head towards the door a little more steadily, he listened, and looked into the hall, trying to see what was going on. He'd heard another gunshot there. No more than that. That was either very good or extremely fucking bad.

He got to the door again, and stepped out into the hall, listening. He didn't hear anything, which meant it wasn't on the move, or if it was, it was far enough away that it could be retreating. As Caleb glanced around and tried to see past the destruction he'd caused, he saw a foot. Or, more accurately, a foot and a lower calf.

Lingering just inside the partially ruined doorway, Porter gripped the frame for a moment to breathe deep, shuddering against a chill that was exhaustion maybe. He looked back to Medea, mouthing 'I love you' before he stepped out silently after Caleb. The flickering light in the hallway wasn't doing him any favors, but after a chance to follow Caleb's gaze? Porter saw the foot. Tapping Caleb on the arm gently, Porter pointed to himself and then the exposed leg as if to say he'd go low, then to Caleb, waving a hand at his chest. Hopefully the other guy would hit high when he had a good chance.

"In blackest day..." Porter whispered, extending a fist out at the calf with a look of concentration before a wave of energy snapped forth, ripping through a bit of the wall and into the demon's calf. The silence was split with a howl as the demon lurched off-balance, toppling out from its' cover into a heap. They'd definitely put some hurt on the thing; one hand was gone just past the elbow from Caleb's spell, the other arm seeming twisted from the battering it had taken, and if Porter could trust his ears? He'd just wrenched the demon's ankle apart, if not shattered it completely.

Caleb was going to tell the kid that going high wasn't exactly something that he had much of an ability to do. His spells were ground based, for the most part. Not entirely, not fully, but he didn't shoot shit through the air like Porter could. Not unless he was closer. But, it wound up not mattering anyhow, since Porter's hit knocked it off balance anyhow, onto the ground where it was easy prey for Caleb. Walking further into the hall, mostly to get clearer of Porter than any real desire to put himself into a position when he was more exposed again, he knocked off his single streak spell again, remaining down on one knee as he watched it rip the tiles up again, and bite through the demon's lower body. It wouldn't be getting up again, that was for sure, though it wasn't quite dead yet. Maybe in death throes, but sometimes things took a while to die when severed. Longer than most people would think, anyways.

How could he be disappointed? Somehow, Porter was, in spite of all logic. The thing was practically halved, it was no threat to them now, but it also wasn't going to be offering up any life force for Porter to leech. Still, feeling the craving in his gut get worse every moment meant that he couldn't ignore the thrashing body. The last discharge, small as it had been, was going to catch up to him fast. If he didn't drop from its' absence, he still probably wouldn't be of any more use for defending anyone. "We need to get you bandaged," he murmured Caleb's way even as he advanced on the twitching shape on the ground and crouched low.

Even the change in posture was enough to make his head swim for a moment as Porter stretched to reach for the demon from as far as possible, shivering at the feeling as he settled his hand at the beast's forehead and focused. He'd never had a chance to try this chakra point before, and for a moment? There was nothing. Porter was already afraid that it was dead, that these spasms were pure muscle reflex when he felt a trickle of icy-cold energy flowing up his arm, drawing a full-body shiver from him.

Caleb watched, with a weird sort of morbid fascination. Kind of like a car accident. He'd never seen it before, never actually ran into anyone like Porter apparently was, and so it was something he wasn't going to just wander off and not take something away from. He was of a mind that the more one knew about the shit in the world the better. You never knew when you might be up against one. He was kind of concerned that the thrashing of the demon's torso was going to hit the kid, but it seemed to just get weaker then stop entirely save some twitching. But then again it's lower half was still twitching too, so...whatever. It sucked he wasn't able to heal himself at all with his knife, but...from what Porter had explained and all, he deemed it more necessary for the kid to do whatever it was he was doing. Stealing energy, or whatever.

Helpless against it, Porter gasped sharply as the feeling rushed through his chest and squeezed his eyes shut in a fleeting little moment of ecstasy. It was delicious, reaffirming, powerful... The werewolf had left him feeling like a titan for weeks, and even this brief taste was somewhere near how he'd felt at the start of the day. It wouldn't last, it couldn't last. And he already wanted more. "Let's g--" Porter started, choking on the syllable as he opened his eyes. The world was awash in colors; vibrant, bleeding strains of silver that pulsed on their own and flowed over vaporous curls of dark browns. "What the fuck?" he muttered in sudden worry, rubbing at his eyes hurriedly..

Caleb was about to say something when Porter was...what confused? "You alright?" he asked, leaving another little trail of blood behind him in neat drops as he walked up to the guy. "How about you not do that here in the open? There's barricading and shit to do...it didn't hit you did it?" he asked, since he knew he was still feeling some aftereffects of the demon's claws.

Looking Caleb's way, Porter had the strangest desire for a sketchpad for half a second. Whatever was happening to his vision, it was showing him Caleb in all his bloodied glory, but also moving through hanging patches of those strange colors. His torn wrist and side bathed in the silvery hues, snaking them out in thin tendrils that pooled and clouded free of the steady drops of blood that feel free, and the sweat and grime on his neck and face seemed to birth wisps of rich browns. "No, I'm... fine," Porter murmured in confusion, rising more steadily than he'd crouched moments earlier. Then it clicked.

The reek of this creature's blood was clogging his nostrils, rising up all around him where he stood near the body almost as the darker metallic colors seemed to. Caleb's own blood? It could've very well been creating the lighter patches clinging to him. There was a term for this, but it wasn't coming to mind right now. "It just feels weird," he went on, moving more confidently to help Caleb if he needed it, "Never done that to something like this before."

"Most people don't actually walk away from an encounter with these things." he said. The only reason he had last time was his brother, and this time he'd most certainly taken more damage than then, because he'd started the fight alone. He felt a little uncomfortable when Porter was studying him, recognizing he probably could quite easily play a zombie extra in a horror movie right now. There was dried blood on his clothes from the teacher, his cheek was still darkly bruised, and on yeah, he was actively bleeding in several spots. He closed his eyes for a moment as the final backlash hit, opening a slice up the back of his neck. "If you're okay, let's go. We need to not be in the open right now." he said, still feeling a little dizzy himself but it was starting to ebb. Thank christ.

"Let's go," Porter agreed, scowling at the sight of fresh curls starting to seep and turn silvery along the curve of Caleb's neck and shoulder. How did that work? Porter had to assume that his vision was still adapting, if his idea of what was happening was even right in the first place. Whatever he knew or thought, right or wrong, Caleb was right. If there were still more of these things, it'd be way too easy to use the meager life he'd just stolen. They needed to get back to safety. "God, I hope everyone else is okay," he muttered under his breath, still finding room to worry over Tad and Kaysen.

"I have to go check anyway." Caleb said. "Want me to check on anyone specific?" Since he'd need to hit up the chapel. He could probably get better care there, though that wasn't even near his main reason. No, he wanted to make sure his friends were okay. See if anyone was dead, all that. He hoped no one got themselves killed. ...more than what's-her-name.

"Yeah," he confirmed with a little nod, glancing warily over his shoulder to watch behind them as Porter moved back towards the kitchen door. "Kaysen, Tad, and Thom? Let them know we're okay. Uh... are you okay? You gonna make it to the chapel?" He didn't need any extra edges to his vision to see how raw Caleb was, the guy looked like he'd gone three rounds with a meat slicer.

Caleb quirked a faint smirk. "Yeah, I'll make it. Just...barricade the door right away, alright? I'll let you know when I'm around again, tell you what's up with people." he said. "But I do have to go. Because I don't hear any more gunshots and that's either very good or very fucking bad." he assessed. "...I'll be around." he said.

Waving a hand through the breach in the kitchen wall to let Isabelle know he was back, Porter turned Caleb's way again and smirked back helplessly. It wasn't that he felt any kind of mirth, it was just a reflex when he saw Caleb's expression. "Get going, I'm good. And, uh, dude?" Now his smile was more natural as Porter pushed the damaged door open. "That... spellwork or whatever? Totally awesome, straight out of Hellstrom." And then he was slipping back into the kitchen, hoping they'd both survive long enough for Porter to have a chance to explain what 'Hellstrom' was when there wasn't imminent death hanging over all of their heads.