The Man Who Sold The World

Although she had been tempted to wear her super hot, pink Prada high heels, Georgie knew that, if she wanted to look professional, had to resist that temptation. Now she was wearing a black, but elegant skirt, black blazer on top of a white blouse and an insanely expensive pair of black Chanel pumps. If she owned something black than it had to be either Armani or Chanel. Rome made an excellent partner next to her, looking absolutely spotless in his designer suit.

"So, how to you think we should approach the guys? I mean, we can't just say something like 'hey, next time don't make any deals with the devil! Oh wait, there will be no next time!' But they need to know the truth..." Georgie took a quick look at her expensive watch.

"I actually thought we could scare the crap out of them, just for fun!" Rome grinned at her.

"Wow, that's very professional", Georgie replied sarcastically.

"No, so what we really have to do is get their attention. We need to talk some sense into their moronic brains before...well, before their bill comes due." He shot her a glance. "By the way, you look fantastic in black."

Georgie rolled her eyes. "Well, I have to get used to it..." A brief smile appeared upon her face. "Besides, I'm wearing something pink...just not visible for everybody."

Rome couldn't resist:

"And you're gonna show me later, right?"

This time, he expected the deserved elbow to his solar plexus and managed to dodge it. Before she could get too mad, he flashed her a hopeful grin and made his way to the elevator. He held the door for her, not trying not to stare.

"So what's the plan, genius?"

Rome grinned, pulled out a pair of aviator sunglasses, and slid them on. "Just play along."

Once the elevator doors opened to the 5th floor, where two security guards stood, Rome cried, "For the last time, this is going to work!" gesticulating obnoxiously with a cigar that had just appeared in his hand, and affecting his voice to sound more educated and, well, more California blue-blood was where he was going, but he wasn't sure it sounded like that. "All I'm asking them to do is help keep the music industry from being at the mercy of illegal downloading and--Oh, hello," Rome grinned at the security guards as if he had only just seen them. He spoke quickly as he exited the elevator: "Ryan Storm, from Hollywood, I produce theatrical trailers, commercials, I'm the reason you get to show up to the movie theatre 20 minutes after the damn thing was supposed to start, am I right? Listen, look, I have a business proposition for, um, ah," he snapped his fingers repeatedly. "What's his name, the kid performing tonight?"

"Uh...Jack White," Georgie replied nervously, not sure where he was going with this. If he was perfectly honest, Rome wasn't sure where he was going with this.

"Yeah, that's right, Mr. White, and the missus, if she's around."

"Do you have an appointment?" The security guard asked, nervous but skeptical. "They're just getting ready to leave for the concert hall now."

"Appointment? I don't make appointments," he turned to Georgie," Did you make an appointment?"

"I didn't make an appointment."

"She didn't make an appointment. Look, ten minutes, I'll give him my card, tell him the story, he says yes, we plan to meet over coffee and I'll be sure to make an appointment next time, boom, we're done, capice?" Rome was already halfway down the hall, "Which room is it, anyway? They wouldn't even tell me at the front desk, imagine that!"

A dark-haired, make-up wearing, tight-red-shirt-sporting guy opened a door right in front of him and, ignoring Rome, frowned at the security guard. "Frank, what the hell's going on? When are we leaving?"

"Ah, Mr. White!" Rome grabbed the man's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "I recognize the musical genius immediately, my name is Ryan Storm, from Hollywood, I have a business proposition for you, it will only take a moment of your time, they're still getting the limo loaded downstairs, is your wife around?"

The guy must have believed Rome would only take a moment of his time, especially at the rate he was speaking, so he resignedly walked back into his room, leaving the door open for them to follow. Rome looked at the dark room, lit only by the bedside lamp. The curtains were drawn, the TV and radio were on in the background, clothes and musical instruments strewn across the floor. It smelled strongly of smoke. And Rome thought he knew how to trash a hotel room. "No, she's getting changed across the hall," he replied.

"Good," Rome said, as he shut the door. And locked it.

"What the--" Jack began, but shut his mouth as Rome lifted his jacket. He was reaching into his pocket, but it wasn't necessarily an accident that his gleaming .44 shone obviously in the dimly-lit room, either.

"Now, Whitey. Can I call you Whitey? I'm not here to hurt you, although I may have to to get you to listen to me." He took a small box from his pocket and threw it on the bed. "That look familiar?"

Whitey's eyebrows furrowed as he reached for the box, shaking, and opened it. "What? No, this is just a picture of some other guy in dirt and...oh, hey, you want Mayer, he's next door and--"

"Huh? Oh, oops, wrong one," Rome said, snatched the box back, and replaced it with the small tupperware container he knew contained Jack White's photograph.

He watched the man's features change from hopeful-misunderstanding to oh-my-God-fear-just-pulled-my-pants-down-and-laughed-at-my-dangling-unmentionables. There was silence for a long time. Then,

"Wh-who are you?"
"Ghostbusters. And if you want to survive the night, you'll do exactly as we tell you..."

Morrigan looked up from finishing her drawing, "Devil's traps are done. So what's the plan now?"

Lenna came over to check the traps one last time with her portable black light. "Now we get ready for the show."

Morrigan bit her lip. "I hope this works, Lenna, cause if it doesn't, this guy is dead and its on us."

"Have a little faith," Lenna told her. "We're always out on a limb here."

Morrigan nodded. "Sorry, I guess I'm just trying to figure it all out. It's so much easier being the little kid looking up to your dad. I never had to make any tough decisions until now."

Lenna smiled at her as she packed up the paint supplies, "You done?"

"Yeah, I'm done," Morrigan promised as she followed Lenna.

Aly put her hair back up while he played at the back of her neck. It had been a nice little reprise, but now it was back to work for both of them.

"Jack! That tickles."

"Mmmhum."

His arms wrapped around her from behind and his lips rested on the curve of her neck.

"Aly, I don't know how to say this but--I'm not the kind of guy who jumps into bed like this. I don't regret anything." He turned her around and kissed her for emphasis.

"What are you saying?"

"What do you want me to say, Aly? There's something between us and...I want it to be more than a one night stand."

Her cheeks colored.

"Jack...you know I can't stay here."

"I'm the one who told you that--but we could make this work. I could go with you?"

"No, I can't ask you to leave your life for my insane existence--however much I'd love the company." She smiled.

"Fair enough, but I'm not giving up on you Allison Wesson."

She purred as he kissed over her neck pausing to mark her near her collar bone.

"I'm counting on it. Jack, you want to see what we do? Meet the others?" She surprised herself with her level of trust in this man.

"Yeah, I think I'd like that. What do I do?"

"Probably the same thing I do--stand at the side and try to stay out of their way." She laughed and kissed his cheek.

Aly finished buttoning her shirt and put on her jacket. Then they left for the concert hall and went to the back door.

"Hey, you're not allowed back here!"

Allison flashed her badge.

"We have backstage passes." The security guard nodded and opened the door. Form there they went to to the stage.

Lenna and Morrigan startled at seeing Raime.

"It's alright guys--he knows and he's with me. Where's Rome?"

Lenna rolled her eyes, getting stranger involved was never a good idea and even worse this stranger was a civilian, maybe not seen from the put that he was some kind of police officer but from the point of a hunter he was one.

“I’m not sure Barbie and Romeo were the ones talking to the rock stars I have no idea where he is.”

Lenna handed Aly a bottle of holy water and also a bottle of salt, as she had earlier Morrigan. She had spare bottles of both which she handed now Raime.

“Just do what the others do. I take care of the exorcism and you make sure the demon stay away from me. We can’t shot at it, the body we see is not the demon it is just a poor guy he is possessing. And we don’t want the meatsuit to die!”

She hadn’t told them yet that she had turned the water for the fire sprinklers and the water for the special effect on stage into holy water. As soon one pull the big red switch holy water will rain down on them.

“The devil traps are waterproofed and at each exit of the stage and also one is right in the middle. The entire stage is salted and surrounded by goofer dust, stuff that keeps the hellhounds out. And all we now have to do is wait for our rock star and I mean the real one not our wannabes Rome and Georgie.”

Rome turned to Georgie, looking for backup, but she seemed a little starstruck and unwilling to say anything. So he continued:

"Look. We know all about your sordid little deal with the devil, Whitey, and while I personally think you're the scum of the earth, we're here to help you. As in, help you not die. Which is what our demon wants, so that his hellhounds can drag your carcass off to hell. No fun, am I right?"

"I just wanted--do you know how hard it is to break out in this day and age?" the rock star said forlornly, lamely.

"About as hard as it is to cheat death, I'm guessing. So. If you'll just explain things to your rent-a-cops out there, Georgina and I will escort you to the concert hall, where further protection awaits. I don't think R.J. will come for you during the day, anyway, but that's honestly just a guess, so let's hope I'm packing enough rock salt to be a deterrent. And," he added, as White was about to speak, "don't ask questions, it'll take too long. Just accept that your life is officially weird right now, and move on. But before we go, which room is John Mayer in?"

Whitey was still too shell-shocked to be helpful, so Rome marched across the hall and started knocking on doors until his man answered, looking stoned out of his gourd but smelling tired.

"Could I come in for a minute?" Rome asked with a smile, pushing past like he was selling vacuum cleaners on commission. He immediately threw the tin on the bed, without any introduction, and, from his briefcase, produced a bag of salt with which he lined the doors and windows. "If you recognize that, you'll know why I'm here. You sold your soul, yadda yadda, the truth is out there, I'm here to help. If you want to survive the night, I recommend you stay in this room 110% of the time. Is there a window in the bathroom?"

"What? Yeah."

Rome strode into the bathroom and lined that window with the last of the salt. "You may want to consider cancelling your show tomorrow night, but it's your call. We'll be in touch. The big boys out there don't know what they're dealing with, so if you have a problem, give me a call," Rome concluded, picking up his briefcase and handing the stunned rock star a business card with his actual number scribbled on the back.

Exiting this room, he offered Georgie his arm as they escorted The White Stripes to their vehicle.

Georgie linked arms with Rome and tried not to laugh while they followed the rock stars, however, she couldn't avoid a brief smile.

"What's so funny?", Rome asked, trying to sound cool at the same time because the White Stripes were right in front of them.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? You're grinning like you just got a brand new pair of Italian designer shoes that nobody else in the United States owns."

Georgie bit her lip when one of the guys turned around and caught her glance. "I know I'm not allowed to make fun of them", she whispered to Rome. "But seriously, the look on White's face after you gave him a good talking was absolutely priceless. Maybe you should become president..."

"Hell, yeah, I would transform the entire country into one giant party continent."

Georgie rolled her eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

Danila slipped from the shadows behind Aly and the small-town cop (what a nice little liability to add to the evening's festivities. . .). He shrugged a large bag from his shoulder and onto the floor loudly whilst clearing his throat.

Danila put on an American accent - mainly for the benefit of the new guy; call him paranoid, but certain people didn't need to be finding out who he was, and these policemen didn't have the best record for the keeping of secrets - and spoke up. "Bottles of anti-demon ammunition. A very good choice, for close range; but might I provide y'all with some more. . . sophisticated weapons, for better range?"

At those words he knelt next to the bag and opened it, pulling out small pistols with orange rings on the ends - gas-powered airsoft pistols, the more observant would recognize them as. He also laid out a few large rifles, also looking realistic aside from orange rings on the ends of the barrels. "Small-round paintballs filled with holy water. Might be just a bit easier to aim, yeah?"

Rome felt exactly like a Secret Service agent escorting the president through occupied terrorist country. And he was certainly acting like one. The Whites let him, which was convenient, because when Rome was indulging himself, you didn't get in the way.

"We're clear at the door, here, G, bring 'em in," Rome said, pausing at the side door and seeing Elenna the others having a confab stage left.

"Rome, you're being obnoxious," Georgie told him as she pushed past, escorting the rock stars to their dressing rooms.

"I don't think you realize how important my job is right now," he declared, offended. "In fact, it's so important, I should really be wearing my sunglasses inside," he said, putting them on.

Georgie rolled her eyes as together they strolled to where the others waited.

"The perimeter is secure, the package has arrived," Rome told them all before he did a double-take, first, at the suit who was with Aly, and then at the guns Danila was unpacking. So maybe it was a triple-take. Either way, "Ooh! Shiny!" Rome said, picking up one of the paintball guns. "Aww, man, I used to love these! You got 'em filled with holy water? Legend. All I got's salt rounds in my shotgun, and I guess that ain't gonna last me the whole night, even if salt works on these hellhound things."

Lenna was standing in some distance behind Rome, but she kept this distance because of the guns than anything else. “They are demonic so yes salt does work on hellhounds, but they are more powerful than any other demon I met before.” Looking at Rome and hoping he got the message which was just for him. Even stronger than Andre, much stronger.

“Demons itself are scared of them if they are on the wrong side of them. So more effective then salt is goofer dust. The whole stage is sealed with it. We have three invisible traps which won’t stop the hounds but it will stop our crossroad demon Robert Johnson. At each stage entrance is one and in the middle a large one. Morrigan and I made lot goofer dust, so in case the seals get broken we can repair them. Remember that we can’t hurt the meatsuit Johnson is wearing, as far as we know he is still alive looking forward to change the income of a shrink drastically but he lives.”

Lenna looked around and once again recalled the exorcism in her mind.

"Good work, girls," Rome said, grinning widely as he clapped Lenna and Morrigan on the back. "So hook me up with some of this goofy dust and I'll just--what? What's so funny?"

"Goofer dust, Rome, it's hoodoo," Elenna admonished.

"Yeah, goofer dust, that's what I said," Rome replied without missing a beat. "Anyway, we can load some into the shotgun shells. Danila, you want to get on that? Meantime...uh, Mr. Marlowe..."

"Raime."

"Raime. Right. Can you help us by keeping an eye on the doors? And especially if our friendly neighborhood fake-FBI-agents show up, run a little interference for us? Lenna, you find someplace to bunker down near the Devil's Traps and wait for RJ to get caught in one so you can send him home, right? Morrigan, you watch stage left, I'll keep an eye on stage right."

Rome turned slowly to Aly and Georgie, meeting their impatient femme fatale gazes with a but-I'm-too-cute-to-die grin. "Ladies," Rome began, "as you know, I saved the best for last..."

"Oh no," Aly ground out.

"Rome, do I even want to know what you're thinking?" Georgie folded her arms.

Rome knew it was going to hurt. But it was a good idea. It was certainly a hot idea. And, you know, tactically, it was pretty good, too. They needed someone as close to the target as possible, and...

"So." Rome licked his lips, braced for impact. "How do you feel about being...backup dancers?"

For a moment Lenna wanted to tell Rome that she could do more than just hide somewhere and wait to send RJ back to hell, but it was just for a moment. She knew that she was the best to do the exorcism, and on top of that she would enjoy doing it.
Lenna grinned by the thought of Aly and Georgie as backup dancers. This would be priceless.

Good that my mobile can record videos I totally gonna film this and in case I need a cheer up I gonna rewatch it, and will be killed if they ever find out.

She already knew where she would bunker down, as Rome said. It was in the middle of all three Devil’s Traps, with the perfect view on all of them, but it was hard to spot her. She poured a circle of goofer dust around herself just in case, checked once more her wrist to see that the symbol was still intact at his place.

“Let’s see how much fire these hellhounds have in their ass, I’m pretty sure my fire his hotter than the fire of hell.” Mumbled Lenna while she got to her hiding place. She was glad that she could see the amulet she gave Rome still dangling around his neck.

Danila nodded, quickly taking some of the dust from Lenna and dropping to a crosslegged position next to his bag. He slid back into the shadows and got to work quickly, enjoying the work of reloading shotgun shells only because he knew he could fire them at some rockstars later.

Morrigan headed into position, making sure to keep her eye on stage left as she answered her new phone which was ringing.

"Mom? Not a good time, I'm kind of in the middle of something."

Her mother paused on the other end. "You're at a concert?"

"Rockers are having a meeting with hellhounds."

"I always knew concerts were bad for you."

Morrigan smiled, wishing her mother was there with her. "Hey, can I call you back? I've got to keep an eye on the stage." She said goodbye and looked back at the others. Everything looked like it was ready for game time.

Aly blinked one or more times at Rome her eyes wide. Was he serious?! She looked over to Raime who looked like he would burst out laughing at any moment.

"Well, Aly--you do have the body for it..." He kept the laughter out of his voice though.

"I am surrounded by male pigs..." But she smiled coyly. It was probably evident to Raime that Rome and him had her in common, and if it wasn't glaringly obvious by the way Rome looked at her--imagining her in the tight skimpy spandex she would be in soon--then the pat on her butt to get her moving sure did it.

She moved away from Rome and pulled Raime aside handing him her pistol loaded with silver bullets.

"Regular ordinance does nothing to these perps. If one gets too close shoot it. I honestly have no idea what to expect here. Most often I feel like I'm just along for the ride. Don't mind Rome...he's...well he's Rome."

She backed him into the wall and demonstrated where her loyalties really lay--in his bed.

"Best of luck, Jack."

"You too, Aly." He let his lips linger before letting her go.

Aly went to get changed and Raime went to scope out the doors, recruiting the bouncers to his cause with a flash of his badge and getting a radio of his own to hear the security guards chatter.

Aly left her badge and gun on the table in the changing room...there was no where to hide them. Rome was going to get it after this he really, really was. She finished with the outfit...if it could be called that and followed Georgie to the stage for their um...dance lesson.

She'd never thought of herself as a dancer, but she knew the basics and had once had to pose as a poll dancer for an undercover sting--though Rome would never get to know that little jewel in her history. The moves she'd learned for that were very useful here because backup dancer apparently just meant be as suggestive as possible.

Aly sighed and found a place for a flask of holy water--though she wondered seriously if it could still be considered holy being hidden there.

T minus 5 minutes, Rome found Danila still gearing up, but looking almost finished. "How we doin', Pops?"

Dan didn't look at him, but acknowledged his presence with a grunt.

"How you feel about finding someplace in the catwalk to stake out? If I had a roof sniper with a holy-water-tranq gun, I know I'd want him somewhere high up."

Danilla nodded.

"Oookay." Time to find some more friendly company.

And, boy, did he find it.

'Whoa, Mama' didn't even begin to cut it.

Rome touched Aly's shoulder before she went onstage, mainly because he couldn't trust himself to touch her anywhere else.

"Aly," he said, coughed, tried again: "Aly, take this," he insisted, handing her a goofer-dust-filled shotgun. She looked at him suspiciously. "Come on, this is the whole reason why I wanted you onstage, despite what you may believe about my purely businesslike intentions," he winked at her, and brought Georgie into the huddle as well. "I've explained it to the band, and everyone else will think it's just some stupid prop or part of your costume, so please have these onstage," he said, handing Georgie her shotgun.

He pulled them both in for a chaste hug. "Now you girls are front line, so be careful out there. Mor and KGB and me will be running backup, so we'll be right behind you the whole time, I promise." He still hadn't let go of them, and his hands began to wander. The perfection, the smooth skin, the lots of skin, the perfume, the--

"Rome!"

Oh, crap.

Slap!

Smack!

Both sides of his face stinging, Rome leapt backwards like they were hot. "OW!" he cried, "OWW!! Geez, I didn't deserve that did I?"

But their gazes told him, yes, yes he did. Oops.

Steady, James, Rome told himself. You've got a job to do, double-oh-seven...

Lenna grinned in her hiding place. This was better than TV. She was more than glad to be really dressed, not have to dance and hell, okay not a good word of word choice right now, she didn’t need to carry a gun.

Lenna checked that the video was saved on her phone. This is priceless. Lenna was grinning while the music started. This might turn out to be one of the best concerts she has ever been to, well until RJ and his dogs show up.

Oh man I hope this goofer dust works and we catch RJ in a devils trap, I’m not sure I dare to try to exorcise him if he is not locked.

Okay, Georgie- as head of the cheerleaders back in school- was used to do certain moves, and yes, she was also used to dance in high heels and sometimes rather short outfits without any troubles, and yes, she was used to guys - whether young or old- staring at her while she danced... but this was a little different. Georgie shot a glance at Aly who didn't seem that comfortable either but they had to do what they had to do in oder to get the job done.
"You're alright?", Georgie asked Aly.

"Awesome", Aly replied with a sarcastic smile. "This is going to be a piece of cake."

Georgie smiled. "At least some people have fun. Lenna couldn't stop grinning and Rome...well..." Suddenly the music started and the girls took a deep breath.

"It's all for the job", Aly mumbled.

"Exactly..." Georgie winked at her. "But I think we should demand wage increases for this whole dancing around thing, don't you think?"

Aly nodded. "I totally agree."

Danila snuck into place on a small metal tower twenty or so metres from the stage, easily concealed behind the plethora of lights and speakers attached to the thing. He set up a rifle (surprisingly accurate replica, for a paintball gun) so he could easily focus on any part of the stage.

Danila saw the girls - Seriously, those were considered outfits nowadays? What was the world coming to? - and then Rome. . . oh, Rome. If the boy managed to peel his eyes off the girls for long enough to catch a glimpse of their mark that evening, Danila would be surprised. He rolled his eyes, then did a quick sweep of the concert grounds before turning his attention back to the stage.

This will be an interesting evening, he thought, looking up at the stars and moon that - somehow - still shone brighter than all the stage lights. The clear skies were an ironic contrast to the fact the devil's work was being done, really. . .

((OOC: RET-CON ALERT! My bad! Forgot to mention this earlier, but I really did intend for us all to have radios to talk to one another. Whatevs, we have them now! So we all have headsets (just whatever the techies use), on a private channel. Also, please see here for fight scene rules/details.))

It was probably a miracle that Rome was actually keeping an eye on what he was supposed to be keeping an eye on, rather than keeping both eyes glued where they so wanted to be.

There was a figure in the audience, first row, house left. Wearing sunglasses. A figure that looked an awful lot like a certain Backstreet Boy that Rome couldn't believe they weren't allowed to kill.

"Sh*t!" Rome yelped, and then, into the radios: "Contact! Contact! We are under attack! He's here, guys, they're here!"

"Rome?" Elenna's voice crackled to him over the crappy techie headsets. "Where? Where is he?"

"Front row, in the--" Rome looked again. "Crap, he's gone! He did that stupid blink thing!"

A snarl was audible over his shoulder. Rome turned and fired, seeing a vague hound-shape materialize briefly in the cloud of salt, and a satisfyingly loud yelp! that could be heard even over the music.

A few screams from the audience made Rome freeze and turn. Oops didn't even cut it, because he had somehow managed to step partially onto the stage, well into the line of sight of anyone who was looking. But the screams presently gave way to cheers as the human herd part of the brain kicked in and told the concert goers Oh, of course, this must be part of the show.

"That's right," Rome muttered to himself. "Special effects, all part of the show, just keep telling yourselves that..." Then, on the radio: "Pops, tell me you're seeing something."

Rome, did you just ask Danila if he could see invisible hellhounds? Suddenly the well-conceived plan no longer seemed so well-conceived.

Morrigan barely had enough time to be thankful she wasn't one of the dancing girls before a hellhound sniffed her out and went in for the attack.

"We've got some activitiy over here. I think Fluffy is on the prowl for a certain Backstreet Boy. RJ is moving his army for the attack."

Rome and Danila radioed over the coms- "We've noticed."

Morrigan dodged the hellhound just in time. "Easy there, big guy. No one here really wants to mess with you."

The hellhound snarled, then wimpered at her. She could smell its infernal breath on her cheek.

"You don't really want to meet the barrel of this gun, demon, trust me." The hound growled low in the back of its throat. Morrigan could see the footprints it made as it surrounded her, ready to pounce.

"Just kill the damn thing!" Rome yelled to her, but Morrigan clicked off her com. "Just a minute," she ordered, noticing the hellhound had stopped moving.

The hound growled again, and bounded off, shattering the side entrance as it ran away after some other unfortunate soul leaving a stunned Morrigan holding her still unfired shotgun.

"What the hell just happened?" she could hear someone screaming in her ear.

"It just let me live," Morrigan said shakily. "Why did it just let me live?"

"Iv I could zee anything," Danila growled through his headset, his eye already pressed to the scope and scanning the stage closely, "Eet would be zplattered in holy water."

Yes, he had dropped his American accent. He tended to do that when, you know, invisible demons were attacking his people. He might need these people someday, dammit!

Then he had a great idea. Genius, even. Infrared, Danila flicked on the heat-sensing filter for his scope, and saw. . .

. . .

. . .nothing. These things were starting to get just a bit annoying. and the chaos breaking out on the stage was also a bit worrisome - if these Americans weren't so incredibly dense, they would know that this wasn't all just some entertaining part of the show.

Well, something had to be done. Danila leveled the barrel of the paintball gun at the stage, turned the firing speed switch to full-auto, and pulled down the trigger, sweeping the stage with pellets of holy water.

Hey, it couldn't hurt, right?

Rome didn't have time to complete the thought that this is getting out of hand before....things got out of hand.

Morrigan practically punted her hellhound over to him as, for whatever reason, it refused to attack her, but had absolutely zero problem jumping on his back and bringing him to the ground. The claws didn't quite manage to get to his skin, but his designer jacket and tailored shirt were both ancient history. Which was a shame: he'd heal, the $1300 suit jacket wouldn't be so lucky.

"Agh, dammit!" he cried as he rolled around trying to dislodge this invisible creature. Before it could bring it's paw back for a swipe, Rome landed them in the salt bucket, which overturned explosively, shooting salt out in every direction, causing the hound to leap off him with a yelp as if it had been burned.

In fact, the only upside to this Rome could see as he stood and fired more goofer dust at the writhing salt-covered creature, was that his brief little exchange had happened offstage.

Lucky me.

Rome regrouped briefly as he backed into an alcove to reload.

"Hey!" a voice squeaked behind him. "Rome, you're gonna crush me!"

"Elenna?" Rome was relieved to see her hiding out of sight. She even shrank back a little further at the sight of his shotgun. "Lennie, this isn't working! We need some way to see these guys. We need to rain paint from the roof or something!"

Suddenly, Elenna's eyes sparkled the way they did when she knew something he didn't.

Which was, okay, most of the time.

"Tell me you got a trick up your sleeve for getting us out of this one, chica!"

Lenna grins. “Did I ever send you on a hunt without a few tricks in my sleeves? I’m nearly disappointed that you think I have no backup plan.”

Lenna speak in her microphone. “Guys, watch out it will be rain.”

Lenna grinned and hit the big red button behind her. A signal light started flashing and the fire sprinkler went off. The band and the audience seemed to be a bit confused, but they kept playing. The holy water rained down on them, they were quickly soaking wet, but it works the holy water sizzled on the hellhounds.

“See I told you I have a plan. I’m not as unarmed as you think.” Lenna grinned at him.

Rome shook his head, grinning as he admired Lenna and her handiwork.

"I love you," he said, channeling Han Solo from Return of the Jedi.

"I know," she replied rolling her eyes at him.

Ruffling her hair affectionately, Rome turned and plowed back into the fray. Audience members were finally taking the hint, shrieking and covering their heads from the water while they began to leave the venue.

Musical equipment began to spark and short out, and the band stopped playing. It was an irony Rome could not miss that although managers and technicians were running around still trying to save the show and fix things, that the White Stripes looked with such apprehension to the by-all-rights-should-be-psychopaths for what to do next.

"Don't move!" Rome shouted, as Jack White almost stepped out of the Devil's trap he was in. "You're safe inside that circle, so just stay--"

Rome didn't know what hit him. Cliche, sure, but you could have tortured him with endless reruns of Dawson's Creek before Rome could tell you what hit him, or from what direction, or how hard.

Well, no, that wasn't strictly true: he could tell you exactly how hard.

Because when he regained consciousness a few seconds later, he had made a dent in the wall at the back of the stage, saw stars that weren't there, heard ringing that wasn't there, and totally wanted to go home right this frakking minute.

And Robert-Johnson-possessed-Nick-Carter was standing where he had just been.