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This wasn't going well, at this rate it was going about as poorly as he had thought it might minutes ago. Which meant he'd have to stretch the term 'active' just a smidge. He'd likely be in for a slap, but if all went well, it'd earn him more information.

Looking up to Boyle, he offered his cigarettes again.

"Hey... I was just talking to Mitch about the possibility of me sticking around. I don't want to be a nuisance though and cause more trouble than I already have. But maybe I can make up for it. I want to help get the b***h that murdered my family any way I can, and you could use the extra hands around here, right?"

Just the right amount of pushy, he thought. It was sure to produce fruit one way or the other. Then, it was just a matter of how he'd pick it.

The girl simply nodded once. While she wouldn't take the blame for deaths Nicodemus had caused, she'd accept the responsibility for those she had caused - even if it was in self defense. For a demon who raised the dead, she had fairly strict rules.
What they found on Nicodemus would depend entirely on their resources. If they had the right sources, they'd be appalled at the trail of blood and bodies Nicodemus had left behind. But if they didn't have the right kinds of contacts or informants, they would find absolutely nothing on him. It was a gamble she felt she'd had to take, however.

She would continue to be helpful and honest, or at least as much as was safe, but she held no delusions that they'd let her go. She knew, sooner or later, they would come to kill her. She was demon-born, a witch, and a necromancer. They were clearly running their own Inquisition.

Her plan was to not be around for that long.

Once her captor left, she reached out again with her senses, ignoring the flask he'd left for her - she didn't trust it, or him. There were massive painful spots, like staring at a bright light too long, where each of her captors were. It was hard to "see" around them, in fact.

But she sensed two dark cold spots. One was like a massive frigid smear among the bright eyesores that were the auras of her captors, and the other was a small shadow of the same. One was old, and she could all but smell blood, and lots of it, in the aura. Male, she thought. The other was younger, weaker.

As a rule, the girl kept a sort of energy shell up around herself, something that kept her from being noticed, or from accidentally drawing the dead. She dropped that shell, and let her aura sing out to any undead in the area. Not a command, just a high keening note in the back of the mind, or a violet flame beacon, a sort of psychic distress signal only audible or visible to the dead. She couldn't muster words or images to send, and didn't want to attract attention from her captors, but she was fairly sure she would at least be noticed.

So many things, happening in such short order.

The scoot back from Mitch made him frown, and Boyle downright scowl, and Corbin was not wrong to think that had he been discovered, he'd have been pulped faster than netted for the cells below.

On the other hand, his tone of voice held just the right side of indignation and aggression to mitigate a lot of it. The fact he was playing a young-ish man went in his favour too, Mitch deigning to open his mouth to answer his queries without finding it too odd the man was unaware of the reputation of the eccentric heiress.


The downside came in the form of no response from Roan as Corbin reached out to her. A shame, as she'd find the way he'd hammed up their relationship hilarious, especially the last part.
It didn't really matter however as 'Plan B' got an immediate response before Mitch even finished his first words of response to Corbin, or before Boyle could pin the man in his chair for some answers.

"...the ******** was that?!" Boyle muttered the words, unshakeable, already turning and running to follow. Mitch however showed signs of the bowel clenching terror the first voice had been designed to induce.
He shook his head mutely in response, shaking a little with wide, dilated eyes.

"Get after them! The prisoner mustn't escape! Take Patrick and STOP them! I'll get Gabriel!"

Gesturing aggressively, Boyle was shouting over his shoulder as he headed for the door, leaving the two left behind to pick up the pace for downstairs. Beckoning Corbin to follow, Mitch overcame his brief fear and legged it towards the cells, and the 'witch' they had assumed the pair of odd jobs were going for.

So they knew about Roan, but not that pair...

He reacted just as he suspected, would be expected of him. First he was facing sudden aggression from the people he was starting to consider friends, Mitch at least maybe not Boyle. He then saw something that got Boyle riled up, and made Mitch freeze in place. Perfect. So far, no foul ups in his plan that allowed precisely zero room for error.

However, he now was directed to follow into the depths of the arcade. There was behind enemy lines, and then there was this. By definition, walking into the enemy's prison.

He had two options at this point. He could follow orders as his character would and potentially earn his stripes among the faithful, thus gaining more information and see just who the hell was sending out this ******** up SOS. He suspected it to be the witch's last bid for survival.

OR, he could take this opportunity to leg it in the confusion, causing more to mask his escape or even have himself 'smeared' without a trace by the intruders. If he had his intruders simply obliterate him, he'd have to invent a few others that looked like existing members of the faithful to be killed, otherwise it'd warrant too much suspicion. There was then the chance however that his falsified collateral would be recognized as people not of this team. Too risky.

If he simply legged it, feigning cowardice however, it MIGHT be plausible however, he could be chased down, and he'd also not learn anything more than he already had.

The final option was to follow, which from the sounds of it, meant a meeting with this Gabriel character. That, would end poorly. VERY ******** it. Plan B was in effect. Shinnanigens were the name of the game and if he had to he'd go active as permitted. Even then he had one last trick up his sleeve before he'd have to start cutting ******** down.

"Who-what the ******** darting between Mitch and Boyle, he shot up from his chair and nodded with vigor to Mitch.

Following in close tow he relieved his pockets of two flick knives. Each blade about 6inches in length nothing special about them. He flicked the blade out on the one held in his right hand and kept the one in his left folded. While taking the chance to examine the surroundings again, and not only the number of people but the way they reacted to the situation, he took the first chance the pull his eye patch off and stuff it in his a** pocket, his illusion covering the difference to show the patch still in place.

"Who the ******** were they?!"

Gunfire. Gunfire would be heard outside the arcade, though no muzzle flashes, nor any signs of life aside from whoever was actually walking about the area. This would raise the alarm for certain, and no doubt create the need for every last man to come to arms, though their faith, if being released at dangerous levels, would be directed outside. Damned if Corbin was leaving here, without knowing just what these guys were packing in man power and arms. His entire focus would now be on his own cover. They'd have to touch him, or direct damaging faith to see through his disguise. In that case however, he still had that one last trick to rely on, to save himself.

Sensing the Witch below, he only prayed she would if anything not be a complete hindrance to his plans. To hope she could actually be of use was unrealistic in his mind. b***h got caught once, after all, and he had no problem with leaving her to burn in his place.

Nines was keenly aware of the smell clinging to him. It meant for a while he would be simply driving, letting the stink of the propellant fade. He wouldn't move to his target until he wasn't a screaming beacon to anyone with a sense of smell.

When at last he had shed the worst of it, he veered towards his point of interest. The car was to be left about a block away; he would approach on foot carrying only what he needed to fend off assholes should the need arise.

Every last detail had to be remembered exactly the way it was if possible. He had to recall where they came from in the arcade and where they went to from there to their stations. This was of dire importance if he was to come back later as a part of an assault team against this arcade.

With his eye patch removed now it'd be much easier to maintain his illusions with the irritation of faith swelling around him. As he and Mitch went deeper into the basement however it would ease some, though Mitch himself was getting worked up, so some small matter if distance between them had to be observed, careful not to be suspicious about it.

Feeling that SOS grow stronger as they entered the basement Corbin focused, not familiar with this sort of thing though imagined it was a matter of stern direction of will, similar to his Chimerstry and speaking with Roan.

"On your feet. DON'T slow me down."

Whether his message could get through loud and clear, not to mention demanding he didn't know, though upon coming to the door he was already preparing. There had only been the one set of gunfire outside earlier, and he hadn't had his duo of intruders appear again, simply maintaining his disguise.

The door was reinforced, though besides that, not terribly armoured like a standard prison cell. He could deal with it, but why rip away something he could potentially have opened for him?

"It's gone quiet...Who ever was shooting up there has stopped, and where did those two freaks go? Do you think they got her already?"

He'd wait, wait till Mitch reacted and started speaking while muting any sound that came from within the cell, then have blood start to subtly leak out from under the door and pool. Too much blood to be a prisoner yanking at their cuffs obviously and coupled with the silence inside, would the faithful take the bait and open the cell to check?

Didn't have to convince the faithful to open the cell door, at least that saved him having to focus on his disguise AND other illusions. He was prepared to take the witches life himself it seemed. That worked perfectly for him.

"Sound 'dvice..."

Standing behind Mitch, Corbin's disguise was lowered though standing behind him, it only meant easing the strain for Corbin. This was especially in his benefit as a wave of faith washed back from the wake of Mitch's directed focus on the Witch, something that would possibly reduce her to charcoal, he wasn't sure if it effected them the same as it did him. Grinding his teeth into a zig zag mesh he had to choke back the snarl of pain.

Fortunately it was a bit easier for Corbin to cope with, given his Fortitude, and this outlet for Mitch gave Corbin the distraction needed to run his already drawn knife across his opposite wrist. The cut was shallow enough to not damage tendons, just draw blood. Letting the blood attach to the cutting edge of the blade Corbin then swept the blade horizontally outward however as he did, the blood would trail from the wound to the tip of the knife in an arch, extending its reach by a full meter and refining the edge. the goal was to silently decapitate Mitch.

"Sorry kid, but your prey, jus' became me captor."

This said, with a wicked grin, as he stared at the witch manically, licking his lips before replacing both knives in his hip pockets. He'd have to engage in being active in order to stay INactive it seemed.

His amusement however turned to an exasperated sigh when he saw the Witch unconscious.

"Or not..."

Keeping an ear out for any others approaching the stairwell, Corbin scanned the immediate area quickly for inspiration, noting another 'cell' near by. He needed a plan on how to escape, and quick.

Cocking a brow at the percussive cell door a small cinder of an idea started to grow. First thing first the Witch hadn't outlived her uselessness just yet, and so he'd grab the unconscious woman by an arm and carelessly flick her over his shoulder to rest there.

He'd then try and gauge the distance of the approaching faith. Gabriel, no doubt. He'd hate to think after all that it was in fact someone else, and the mighty leader was still to come.

"OH ******** GET DOW-!"

Corbin's voice took on the auditory qualities of Mitch through Chimerstry, before there was a loud, beastial roar and a tremendous crash. Corbin then gambled on how long a false 'cave in' on the stairwell blocking the path, would hold off any who were coming.

He then knocked on the cell door.

"Oi Hannibal. Today's your lucky day. Do exactly like I tell ya, and you get out o' here. Fair?"