Clive jumped back as the creature revealed its true self. His stone-faced fisage cracked as his eyebrows raised slightly and he gave a quiet, "Well shoot." He put some distance between himself and the not-so-lovely couple and back pedaled a few steps, fists up and ready as he waited to see what would come of this transformation. Something ugly, something real ugly and new to him. It almost reminded him of a skunk ape he'd tangled with a few years back near Lake Okeechobee down in Florida (minus the smell, thank the Almighty). The prospect of trying to do the same this beast hand to claw sent a chill down his spine Even still, he had already taken his first step forward, fully ready to bring his combatives training to bear, when a bottle crashed against its hide.

Clive jumped back once more to avoid touching any droplets of whatever Val had thrown. You can never be too careful with magic. He was grateful for the distraction as it gave him an opening to lunge for his duffle bag. He nearly broke the compression straps as he tore it open and plunged a hand inside, retrieving a knife as long as his forearm wrapped in a worn leather sheath. This he tucked into his belt and went to work taking care of the gathered airport security. Two were still trying to get their feet under them when Clive's fist caught the first of them across the chin in a running sucker punch. The man spun a full circle before crumpling to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. Clive snatched the taser and pepper spary from the guard's belt and wielded them akimbo like a non-lethal Rambo. A guard to his right seized when 50,000V ripped through him and let out a rather unmanly shriek as he pitched forward while another on the left swore with all the colors of the rainbow as he wiped at his burning face with his sleeve. Not wasting a second, Clive returned to the first guard's belt and retrieved both pairs of handcuffs.

He felt a pang of nostalgia as he tackled the man shouting obscenities at him and cuffed his hands behind his back; followed suite by his coworker. There was a brief moment where Clive stopped and considered how strange his life had become over the last decade. Things were simpler when he was tracking down people doing regular, albeit horrific, crimes. He shook himself out of his reminiscencing and snatched up his duffle bag before returning for his gun cases on the ruined luggage belt. The hardcase was discarded as he all but slapped a magazine into his pistol, pocketing the other two, and tucked the pistol into his waistband. The shotgun he unceremoniously tossed into his duffle. He stood back up just in time to get hit by a half-eaten salad from Mael's trashcan antics. Clive spun on his heel and felt his heart leap into his throat as he saw a denizen of the lower circles of Hell just a stone's throw away. It took active concentration on his part to not draw and mag dump into the abomination that he assumed was the Frenchman.
"Dear Lord," Clive muttered to himself as he brushed some lettuce out off his jacket.

Ordinarily it wouldn't be hard for him to slip away, steal a car, and be on his way. Unfortunately, he was now part of a team and that meant no one gets left behind. Teams also have leaders that direct them and that person was obviously Eleanor. He made his way back to her and gestured at the chaos around them.
"So what's the plan, ma'am?"

[hider=Summary]
Clive relives his glory days as a police officer for a moment and gathers up his luggage.
[/hider]