Welcome to Gaia! ::

The cloaked figure on the landing pad knocked each missile aside; they all failed to detonate, littering the landing pad around her.

"Because," Blackstone seethed, "She's an agent of Glorious..." His fist was clenched so tightly that they could hear the bones popping. "Who has almost as much fun doing stupid dramatic things as she does having us shoot at her."

"Oh, please. You used to love how she did that. Cap, you just don't like Belias now because she-"

"Shut your <********> mouth the <********> up and pilot the <******** dropship," Blackstone snapped, cutting off whatever the pilot was going to say.

Oh, so they had themselves a little daredevil, did they? At least she'd be entertainment until she got herself killed. It would be good to have another woman on the team, though; someone she could subjugate without having to let them grope her.

She frowned when neither missile exploded and cocked an eyebrow at Petrachkov's comment. At least he had gotten something right. She would have liked to see the newcomer screw up her entrance.

She flipped open a mirror from her pocketbook and touched up her face and hair before they landed. It was always... good... to meet new people.

"What's his problem anyway?" Petrachkov asked Belias, apparently unable to extract answers from Blackstone. He didn't have any problem with Belias; he squeezed into the elevator, his absurdly huge rifle potentially bothering others.

Belias smirked. Her skin was pale and her hair, which was similar to obsidian in coloration and sheen, cascaded around her head. It seemed she largely favored her old angelic form - the way her face combined porcelain delicacy with a hint of arrogance and the slightest touch of cruelty was all too familiar to any who had faced an angel before. The only major deviation seemed to be the hair being wavy and black instead of straight and blonde.

"Oh, Blackstone?" she asked in a lightly mocking tone. "Nothing. Nothing at all." It wasn't an answer in any sense of the word, but at least it was clear there was an answer being withheld.

The Demon-Major returned the smile and shrugged. "Some men say impotence is relative. I'm told four hours of performance is not actually inadequate by human standards, but I maintain that for a man to succumb to burn wounds upon his member during the act-" Kaiser and the pilot began snickering again; the pilot snorted quietly in his attempts to suppress his laughter. "Is disgraceful no less. Unfortunately, he's the best I've encountered thus far, as I generally find the company of other Demons-major distasteful. Therefore..."

"Therefore he gets a new set of burns on his c**k every few weeks," Kaiser faux-whispered to Cholos as they walked into the elevator. Moments later, the quiet chuckling of Cholos and Kaiser silenced beneath the fallen angel's glare.

"Such a shame, really," Miriam continued without missing a beat. "Being three millennia old... has effects on your perception of time. Four hours just doesn't seem like a very long time. I'm curious... have you ever experienced such difficulties? Perhaps you can understand."

"Indeed. I've been appointed Head of Security," Belias responded. "And what, pray tell, is his problem?"

Quickly realizing that four hours in three thousand years equated to slightly under six minutes in the average human's lifetime, Catalena chuckled a deep and pleasant chuckle. "Oh, I can certainly sympathize. Proportionately, of course; I would not presume a demon's perception of time. Believe me, though, it seems all men rely on such... 'relativity' to excuse their inadequacy. I don't know what it is relative to, though... perhaps mice?"