![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bythemanualFinding his ship is still his top plan, but Rook knows already that it won't be space-worthy. A cracked exterior, wailing alarms, sputtering engines--he's been around enough of those to know what they mean. It's a good thing he'd thought to pack the standard Plumber's away-kit, or he'd have parachuted down entirely without supplies.
It's also a good thing all Plumber badges are distress beacons, too. He touches the hip pouch holding it to reassure himself, frowning at the empty street. So many of the buildings around him look finely kept, but also recently vacated. They're the reason why the area's complete lack of any sign of life is leaving him so unsettled. Sounds of distant activity sometimes echo, but he never finds their source. Worse yet is the rubble, and the occasional suspiciously dark stains.
The signs of struggle are familiar to him. This is a former battlefield. Or--is it a memorial?
Either way, he feels pins and needles travelling up his spine as he walks down a winding road. A feeling of opression hangs in the air, and when the wind blows the wrong way Rook wonders if he smells human blood.
It's also a good thing all Plumber badges are distress beacons, too. He touches the hip pouch holding it to reassure himself, frowning at the empty street. So many of the buildings around him look finely kept, but also recently vacated. They're the reason why the area's complete lack of any sign of life is leaving him so unsettled. Sounds of distant activity sometimes echo, but he never finds their source. Worse yet is the rubble, and the occasional suspiciously dark stains.
The signs of struggle are familiar to him. This is a former battlefield. Or--is it a memorial?
Either way, he feels pins and needles travelling up his spine as he walks down a winding road. A feeling of opression hangs in the air, and when the wind blows the wrong way Rook wonders if he smells human blood.
AU!Noah and Cesar (Closed RP)
Jul. 17th, 2015 11:04 pmgorilladogWho: AU!Noah and Cesar
When: Late in the evening, during season three, altered where Noah as well as Cesar are proactive in Black Knight’s Providence
Where: In Cesar’s lab
What: Noah finds Cesar alone in his lab in a drunken mess, feels and hilarity ensues! 8D
( Read more... )
When: Late in the evening, during season three, altered where Noah as well as Cesar are proactive in Black Knight’s Providence
Where: In Cesar’s lab
What: Noah finds Cesar alone in his lab in a drunken mess, feels and hilarity ensues! 8D
( Read more... )
(no subject)
Jan. 12th, 2015 12:30 pmevowhisperer
-----
"Stand aside, please, I'm a doctor!"
Chaos. Pure, grainy, cheaply recorded chaos. The cellphone trembles violently with its owner's hands, and frightened shouting in Spanish from all around threatens to drown out the wails of a child. The dirty sidewalk is no place to treat the wounded.
The seven people bleeding out on the ground may not be alive to care, soon. The child screaming at a young couple's side is unhurt, but rightfully frightened.
Several someones pass in front of the camera. The owner moves to the side, and a loud male voice blares out, 'Are they alright? Are they alright?' when no one answers. The owner continues to move, and a frilly sleeve is pushed out of the way.
There's a man in a white labcoat kneeling over one of the bodies, pressing a cloth flat against a puddle of red.
'Hey, are they going to survive?' the phone owner repeats. The doctor snags the cuff of someone standing too close, and orders them to keep pressing down. They step forward with shaking hands and kneel also, and soon the doctor stands and moves on.
Someone's voice is rising and falling hysterically. There's shouting about police, and an ambulance. The camera turns to look, but it doesn't seem that either have arrived, and when it looks back several people have begun to grab shirts from the store's open sidewalk display, following the doctor's example.
The doctor is wearing a large woman's hat with a tag sticking out of it, now, conspicuously snatched from a knocked-over shelf. He's facing a direction that would normally let the camera see his profile, but the hat is big enough to hide all but his neck. He slows as he reaches a body that stares vacantly away--it's not the first he would've reached, but it is the first the camera has seen--and moves on.
Finally, there's the body that no one seems ready to approach, curled up and with its back to the crowd. Broken glass litters the ground around it, and when the doctor pushes it onto its back, he kicks a gun further out of reach.
Someone passes in front of the camera. "Hey..." The owner complains. No response, and the owner moves around. "Hey, why's he helping that fucker when there's people here who need help?"
The doctor's back is to the camera. It's impossible to see what he's doing until he glances towards the crowd, loops the hat's strap tightly around his jaw, and starts CPR.
No one stops or helps him. The camera continues to watch, eventually panning over the wounded, and the unhurt victims still milling around. Someone shouts about the police again, and more people are kneeling over the wounded victim's bodies, pressing down more cloth. The child has climbed into a sitting woman's lap, face buried in her hair.
One of makeshift medics calls out to the doctor tearfully, but they are ignored.
One of makeshift medics calls out to the doctor tearfully, but they are ignored.
There's an outcry. The camera snaps back to the doctor, who's lifting his head from the shooter's chest, pushing down arms that have begun to move sluggishly. More shouting, with more than a couple of screams. The crowd is starting to shuffle back, and the doctor throws up a blood-soaked hand, shouting urgent assurances. The camera glimpses part of his face, and he's young, and very clearly aware of the new dangers--both from revived shooter, and the crowd.
"He's not armed!" Triple checking. The doctor kneels on his wrist, shifting the man to check underneath. Quadruple checking. "He has no more weapons! He's unconscious!"
The shooter's eyes are glazed but open, and the confusion in the crowd eddies and swirls. Before anyone can do anything, there's armed men in uniforms of the law shoving through the crowd, taking control of the situation. The crowd's din reaches a new high, and the man with the camera is forced back. It becomes impossible to see anything else, as people move back and shake the camera every which way.
There's only a glimpse left of the doctor left in the clip, and it's from one last ditch effort. The phone gets held high in the air, and it shows a white coat turned to one of the uniforms, hands forward, bloody, and earnestly reassuring.
The clip cuts out.
ghostboy The suit feels like it was made of dollar bills. Like, literally: Danny tugged the collar back to check more than once, so he knows that it doesn't look like it, but any time he pinches the cloth between his fingers he confirms it: it cost a fortune. With any luck there'll be some Extremely Unfortunate Accident with it, soon: he doesn't want to ever have to suffer through this again.
"Don't forget to behave yourself, Daniel," Vlad murmurs, and Danny wonders if he still has that smug, fatherly smile stamped all over his face. Vlad's behind him as they walk in, or he'd glance over to look.
They're in the last entry room before the banquet hall. A hand on Danny's shoulder slows him, and Vlad turns him around to pretend to fuss with his tie.
"I mean it," he murmurs, close enough that only Danny can hear. "What did I say about gallivanting around where you're not wanted?"
"You have a Plasmius Maximus, and you're not afraid to use it?" Danny muttered back nervously. He would've drawled it, but he's spent days at the mercy of the older man's whims, and it's no longer funny to joke about losing his powers this way.
From the glitter in Vlad's eye, he knows it, and relishes what he sees as a job well done. His mouth twitches. "Close enough." The tie gets one last tug, and Vlad straightens.
Danny turns, and hands settle on his shoulders before he's more than a step away.
"Remember, for tonight you're my visiting nephew, fostered into my generous care until your parents can take you back responsibly."
Danny's quip is out before he thinks about it. "If you're my uncle, then does that mean you're my mom's brother? Because wow, Vlad, I didn't know you were that much of a fruitloop." There's no one near enough to hear or see Danny's shit-eating smirk or the ugly look Vlad sends him. Danny hurries on ahead, still grinning and eager for the safety that crowds might bring against Vlad's wrath.
Danny reaches the ballroom doors first, Vlad close behind, and when a camera goes off somewhere, both of them have pasted on angelic and innocent smiles respectively. This is the act they've been preparing for. Then they're through.
"Ah, Woolsworth!" Vlad cries almost immediately. Again a hand comes down on Danny's shoulder, but this time Danny twists away before he can be trapped into a boring old conversation where he'll have to pretend to actually like his 'Uncle Vlad'. Please. He's much more interested in where the food tables are, and now he's threading through the crowd with purpose.
