Who: Zatanna and OPEN What: Demons, hellspawn, and magic, oh my! When: Monday afternoon Where: Broadway in the 50s, the CBS TV studio Warnings: None!
Zee didn't understand why people always seemed to shocked to learn that she rehearsed her act on a daily basis, especially those people who didn't know that her magic came from within. Of course she had to rehearse. Blood magic or not, the stuff was dangerous and one mispronunciation could result in something much nastier than a rabbit coming out of her top hat. She liked to pretend she never made a mistake (and admittedly, it was extremely rare) and in a welcomed change of events nothing catastrophic had actually happened since she'd been in 1964 New York.
Yet.
Her sunglasses had only just perched on her face when Zatanna heard the noise behind her after stepping out of the studio employee doors. They led out into an alley -- though the door was only ten feet from Broadway-- where the trash was normally dumped until it was picked up. The studio's security was good usually, making sure that no one used it as a home or shelter so that anyone, man or woman, could feel safe coming or going. Zee could honestly say that she would have felt safe either way, but it was nice not to have to worry about it for herself. Until she left on Monday afternoon and heard a dull thud behind her.
A lesser woman probably would have screamed, but Zee was used to blood and bodies that lost all sense that they'd even been sentient beings once they were laid out on the ground like sacks. It made a sickening thud, and she knew something was wrong even before she noticed that the man holding a crowbar in his hand had reddish horns poking out of his forehead.
"Hellspawn? Demons? Really?" She almost grinned at the site of something so familiar. Hell, it almost made her homesick. Making slightly mocking face and placing a hand to her heart, her grin blossomed. "You're actually a site for sore eyes, to the point where I'm almost sad that there's only one of you. I--" Zee paused, hearing footsteps from the sidewalk behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. "Scratch that. Five of you, and a hostage. Fun! Gnikrow sehtolc no!"
She was far, far too excited to be using her fishnets for something other than looking pretty on camera, and there was a perfectly good excuse. One of the demons was holding a hostage by the neck. She was obligated to help.