(open/closed) protect your neck, kid

[pummelling]

CHARACTERS: Kung Jin, the citizens of Woodhurst, and you!
DATE: 2/11 - 2/25
WARNINGS: mild violence, rudeness, gratuitous 90's hip hop
SUMMARY: Jin tries to keep the peace, and does some Shenanigans with friends along the way.

[jk lol that was a fake cut

open prompts below; pm me or hit smithsyndicate if you want a closed one.]

Comments

rioting | ota

[pummelling]

[One minute, he's with company, following the ALASTAIR agents he recognizes and powering through the riots on his way to City Hall to join his teammates; the aim is to root around for clues or leads or information, anything to help bring this madness to a quick halt sooner rather than later. But one quick surge of the crowd later, he is alone.

And being separated is terrifying.

Not for his own sake-- he knows what he can handle, how to fight at arm's length and keep himself safe-- but for everyone else's. If his friends aren't anywhere to be seen, they could be anywhere in this mess... and anyone could be infected. He can't dwell on it, though: he can't afford that kind of distraction when he needs to make it out of this in one piece too. At first the aim is to get the hell out of this crowd. Jin pushes and shoves his way through, moving for the edges, but in rioting of this scale it's only natural that he stumbles upon others who are just as stuck as he is.

Big damn hero that Kung Jin is, he can't not stop to help.

At any given moment, he's in full gear. Jin fights off a rioter, using feet and fists or some broken piece of debris to keep the space just in case they're carrying the scourge of infection. He rescues trapped civilians and hustles them to safety, gathering a small group of people who follow close at his heels in fear and confusion, because at least this weird stranger isn't trying to rob them. But he's also here to bail teammates out-- he at least knows most of Audentes by face, if not by name, and like hell he's gonna leave any of his own behind.

This'd be way easier with a weapon that's not just a plank of wood or a broken pipe, but hey: he's a survivor. He's always been one. If this is what it takes to save people, he'll do it.]

[weatherscience]

[ she hates crowds like these. it's a strange thing for a pick-pocket to say, when a riot like this is ideal for a thief — no one would notice if any valuables they're carrying were to... disappear, in the chaos.

for once, though, Nami isn't thinking about money. she's fought her way out of the crowd once already, that time with two children that were trying to find their parents; their cries caught her attention, and soon her only objective was to get them out of here safely, to make sure they're reunited with their missing mother and father.

there are bruises on her arms, along with a few cuts, from protecting the kids, but despite that, she doesn't hesitate to come back as soon as the girls have been safely left with their frantically worried mother. all because the older girl manages to sob out, our friend, Kelsi, I saw her in the crowd — before being hushed by her mother, afraid that her children would run back into the fray.

with a determined nod, Nami tells them she'll make sure Kelsi gets out okay. after all, didn't she help them, too? it'll be alright!!

... she wishes she hadn't sounded quite so convincing now that she's back in the crowd, pushing her way through, ducking and swerving when someone tries to hit her. her clima-tact is in her hands, extended and looking like your regular bo-staff, which is what she uses it as, here. and really, she's trying not to get too involved... but when she spots a familiar face fighting off one of the rioters, with another coming from behind him... god, they're a team, right? ]

Jin! Watch out!

[ if he can't take care of both of them, she's prepared as she tries to fight her way to him, to help if need be. ]

[pummelling]

[As fortune would have it, Jin had been shoving his way forward to a young girl stumbling back and forth as she struggles to maintain her footing and escape the crowd... to her two friends, far, far away now, nowhere to be found. But that's his specialty, isn't it? Falling right into the worst of a situation, only to luck his way out of it, somehow. The girl, only a few feet away now, extends a hand to Jin as he knocks over the enterprising rioter-- unlike Nami, money had been the first thing on his mind.

He'd have been hit across the back of a head with a steel pipe if not for Nami's quick warning.

At the sound of his own name, Jin starts, head whipping around. (it's a woman's voice, but impossibly, he hopes for Asher to have found him, to see with his own eyes that he's safe instead of hoping against hope that he hasn't been trampled.) He only catches a glimpse of Nami's face before the improvised weapon comes hurtling towards him. Reflexes honed, he seizes the man's arm, halting the flow of motion and bending it painfully enough to stop him in his tracks-- and with one clean motion, flips the jerk over onto his back onto the hard ground.

There's a split-second where he stares at her, eyes wide with surprise.]

Nami--

[And then Kelsi screams, her head bobbing and hands held up into the air as she's pushed further along in the crowd.

He simply inclines his head in the girl's direction and takes off again. Nami'd helped him once, hadn't she? Wouldn't she do it again?]

shelter | ota (action or network)

[pummelling]

[Fortunately for Jin, he and his collection of civilians have come across a safe place: a somewhat upscale, uninhabited, and most importantly unlocked model home near the city center. There's no food or supplies worth salvaging (which the group finds out when a 12-year-old kid tries to bite into a plastic apple at the dinner table, gross), but it's safe enough. As long as somebody is defending it.

In the afternoon on the first day of wide-scale rioting, Jin ducks into a corner and shoots the network a quick message over his magitek:]

I have civilians in a safe place. no rioters or infected here.
message me if you can help either take them home or defend the safehouse.
i'll send the address
i'm going out to look for more soon.

[With that, he's off again to check that none of his people are injured. And to see if anyone knows anything worth knowing about the infection.]

text, we can lead in to escort if you'd like

[p66]

I can help. Do they have any food over there? It's meant to be a short term holding place or?

sounds good!! c:

[pummelling]

Thanks. No food apart from what little people had on them, and yeah, just short term.
It's probably not feasible to stay here for long.

\o/

[p66]

Alright, I'll be there in a bit. I can escort one or two people at a time, I have a friend who can join me later.

How far is it from their homes, do you know?

[pummelling]

There's... eight people left, I think. Bring your friend for sure. [HE'S HAD A BUSY DAY....]

We've got one person who's all the way out, as far as the elementary school, but apart from that? 15 minutes of a walk or less, tops. But with the riots still going and the infected still about, I can't say how grueling those 15 minutes are going to be.

escort | ota

[pummelling]

[By the time that Jin and whoever else he's recruited into it are taking people back to their homes, the riots... haven't stopped, really, but they've settled to an uneasy simmer rather than the violence's boiling point earlier in the day.

Darkness has nearly fallen, which is both lucky and absolutely the opposite: there's cover in the dark just as much as there is added danger from any enterprising troublemakers who're seeking an ambush. But hey, he can handle himself. And hopefully the others.

Jin's keeping a close eye on the three-odd people he's got left: an older woman well into her 50s, her granddaughter clinging tightly to her skirt, and a man around Jin's own age who has his arm protectively looped around the older woman.

As exhausted as Jin is, he hasn't lost hope. The people of Woodhurst are people, simple as that: he's seen strangers pick each other up off the ground today and bandage each others' wounds, over and over and over again. That's enough reason not to give up.

He turns to whoever's accompanying him with a tired, but reassuring nod.]

If we hustle, we can make it before the sun's down completely.

[iomnic]

And we will be at a distinct disadvantage, if we do not. I am not typically one to say this, but we should make haste.

[ Zenyatta peers out from around a corner, to check the nearby obvious areas for signs of the Infected. So far, none. but sneak attacks are always a thing. ]

[pummelling]

[The little girl's taken a shine to Zenyatta, too, so she casts him a concerned look through the curtain of her bangs before darting behind her grandmother's legs once more.

Meanwhile, Jin's nodding in agreement.]

I'm glad we managed to meet up. [he's been Concerned since ALASTAIR announced Genji's transfer...] Do you have somewhere to stay after all of this clears up?

... using "clear up" liberally, but still.

[iomnic]

[ Right, he needs to be even more careful about what he says and how it can be construed when there's a young one as such around... He puts on a gentle smile, even after the little girl flees behind her grandmother, his tone a little more casual. Less worried. ]

Oh, yes, of course. I am glad to meet up with you as well! I had been meaning to check in with you. Also, my apartment? Or... do you think that is not a good place to be anymore?

[feytality]

[Maya's come along with this little mission from the shelter Jin had set up and brought her to, mostly to try to keep herself from being completely useless. Scared as she was, she'd already spent a few hours huddled by herself, and she had to at least try to do something to contribute. After all, wasn't that why she was here? To help people? And so, she'd insisted on going with him]

[But even now, it's really Jin doing everything - it's not like she can fight off zombies or rioters - and her just tagging along with these civilians. If she thought going with him would help her feel less like a burden, it's the opposite, and she's been uncharacteristically quiet the whole trip, aside from trying to help comfort the little girl.]

[She raises her head when Jin speaks, and gives him a little smile - though it's forced]

Right....! We just gotta get these guys home.

for SCIENCE | closed to urahara

[pummelling]

[Kung Jin's armed with rubber gloves, a face mask, and ten empty pee sample containers from the hospital. Because this is his life now.]

Gods, this is gonna be so gross.

[It's for the good of the team, of course, and Jin wouldn't deny doing something to help stop the rapidly escalating Bristol virus, but... holy... shit... it's still gonna be so gross.

Urahara, resident fake virologist, is in his company; the sample containers loaded up into a bag Jin is Absolutely going to throw away later, they're off, actively hunting down infected around the city to gather what they can. It's been slow going thus far, although it really is only a matter of time with how serious things have already gotten.

He turns to Urahara, brows furrowed.] The scientist from ALASTAIR didn't mention what types of fluids would work best for his research, did he?

[predomination]

[The urge to tell Jin that they're going to have to convince the infected to pee in a cup is so strong, but he withholds the urge, if only because he's been dealing with that madness collecting samples back at the hospital and jokes aren't as funny when you've been handling those fluids yourself.]

Blood will probably be the easiest to get... and probably the least dangerous, honestly, which isn't saying much.

[he appreciates the assistance. he couldn't go alone and maintain his cover as a perfectly ordinary citizen working at the hospital who would no better than to trek the streets at night by himself, but... There's not many people all that willing to prance about on a zombie hunt.]

Mm... No, maybe a saliva sample would be more dangerous. You might lose a finger.

[pummelling]

[Jin utters a short 'hmph' at that.]

Your finger and your mind, in a few weeks' time.

[Silly as he looks right now, it's better than outright risking infection, which in turn keeps all of Audentes that much safer. That, too, is worth it: one of their own losing control and wreaking havoc on the rest of the team is not something he's eager to repeat. thanks koltira]

Bloodletting, though: I can do. [Jin's got a flashlight, too. He swipes the bright beam left and right. Hopefully the light'll draw some attention, and specimens, their way.] I've got my chakram on me for a quick cut-and-run.

[he adds, grimly:] Maybe, if we're lucky, we'll run into someone who's still sane enough that we can ask permission.

[predomination]

[he doesn't let it show that that's something he's probably considered happening a few times and he doesn't particularly like it. this town couldn't take something of that caliber.

he pauses for a moment, now that they're a good ways into the shadows and pulls some folded garment of some kind out of his bag.] I hope you don't mind, but I've only got one...

[and he slides the stealth cloak over his head, the hood just about concealing his face entirely, though when the flashlight beam falls on him, his sheepish look is plain to see.] I didn't want anyone to recognize me wandering around out here.

[it has other benefits, of course, but that's the excuse he's going with. Jin has proven himself to be as useful as any determined and proud young man, and now is a good time to utilize that. it's not like he plans on letting him get hurt, knowing the cost of that... and his own guilt.]

zoom-a zoom zoom zoom | closed to pudding boy

[pummelling]

[Kung Jin and Fugo aren't averse to working together, per se, but gathering supplies once everything's well and truly gone to shit has brought the two of them together by circumstance. Traveling as a pair's much safer, with civilians so agitated and riots not truly over, even days later; in the end, too, working with a friend of a friend feels much better than going at it alone.

Jin's got a backpack full of what little he's been able to salvage: a little food, some unopened bottles of water. Not much. As they come closer to the center of the city, however, there is...

a car. a parked car, in... the middle of the street? Diagonally. It's fairly obviously abandoned, from the looks of it: the trunk's popped open and empty, as if someone'd already taken the contents for their own salvaging, and there's a rough dent on one of the back side doors. It's not in especially great shape, but it is a car.

Jin casts Fugo a sidelong glance and gestures at the car with a tilt of his head.]

Hey. Check it out.

[unholey]

[Fugo is ... calm is not the word for it. He's very composed, almost disconnected, in the face of near-constant unrest on the streets. He's got a plan, mostly. Gather information, collect resources, let other people explore the sewers, try to keep out of a fight. This particular afternoon his focus is on medical supplies: things like gauze, antiseptic, syringes, and little sterile bottles that can be used to collect samples. He didn't really mean to team up with Jin. It just sort of happened. But he's grateful for the company, sort of. Jin's big and broad, which is deterrent for most of the other looters.

Not that Fugo's really afraid of them either. He's got a baseball bat. And there's always Purple Haze, growling nastily in the back of his head.]

[The car... is an unexpected boon. Fugo returns Jin's sidelong look, tapping his baseball bat on his shoulder.]

Think it'll start? [He makes no mention of keys. Pfft. Who needs keys to start a car.]

[pummelling]

[Keys???? Neither of these hecking delinquents need keys.

Jin moves closer and walks a full loop around the car, stepping warily.] Dunno.

[It could be a trap, but it doesn't look it: not much at all. There's an ugly tear eating into the fabric of the back seat, but apart from that, it looks clear. Clear enough.]

Only one way to find out. [For the first time all day, a smile tugs at the corner of Jin's mouth.]

You want to do the honors, or should I?

[unholey]

Go close the trunk and keep an eye out. I'll get it started. [Fugo leans his bat against the backseat door, shrugs his bag off, and bends down to fish a few tools out of it: a screwdriver, some electrical tape, a pocket knife, and a bundle of neatly bundled-together alligator clips.

The driver's door is thankfully unlocked; looks like whoever abandoned this car obviously didn't care if someone else got into it later. He then proceeds to spend a few Very Industrious minutes underneath the steering column that involve doing not-so-legal fiddling with wiring and result in the car starting.]

jin & haise | don't stand so close to me

[onethousen]

( the screams don't seem real at first. Chihiro looks up from her notebook, pausing to listen more intently to the sounds that pierce right through the lecture from the teacher standing in the front of the room. screams, cries, shouts; there is terror in the halls, and it is abruptly evident, as the kids closest to the door start standing and asking the teacher what's going on.

she doesn't ask. Chihiro feels her heart hammering in her chest and reaches for that calm. she breathes, closing her notebook. setting it to the side even as she reaches into her backpack and pulls out the pencil case she's hidden her one dose from Lance, moving through the other kids to the door. pressed up against it to look out through the narrow window almost out of reach. seeing an adult racing past, gesturing behind them; one of the second grade teachers, she thinks. she's seen them around in the last two weeks.

feet pound and their fifth grade teacher shoos them away from the door, expression set into something grim and tight around the eyes. she tells them to stay there, opening the door and slipping into the hall, using her body to block the kids in: to block anything else out.

"There's someone attacking — the kids, a teacher, anyone in the third grade hall —"

Chihiro has known something was coming, but she had still not wished for it to start here. not here, with all the kids. not with the people who are even younger than she is. as the class is rounded up and ushered out, following fire drill procedure in evacuating the building, she ducks down and uses her more slight stature to cut through her classmates, ducking into doors and hiding as she tries to do exactly what she knows she shouldn't do: but what she must. she's the one here.

this is a primary school.

there are kids.

and it is children she finds, kids her age, kids younger, injured and crying. some more okay; most less. she twitches, hard, but she only knows some first aid, and if they're crying, they're still alive. they might be infected.

they might all be infected.

she runs. injured teachers, shouting at her don't, and all she does is hold on to her pencil bag, and pull out her injection, and think, i need help. she calls on her magitek, not talking; it's a ring as she waits for anyone, anyone to pick up.

jin does. she sends him a thought, a message she know he'll see:

it's happened at my school, come fast

and she keeps calling, because one isn't enough. the pick up from haise makes two.

haise i need you at the school its the sick ones there's injuries

but nothing more. one response, no reply, and she's still tracking back, evading an injured teacher who calls back to her as she finds the worst of the bloodstains; the start of the hurt, here, in a third grade classroom. slipping inside, she feels sick to her stomach. equally determined, because she's seen worse, and if there is information, if there are clues, if she might find something to help the team, then she must stay focused. she must be brave. she must try.

there is no room for fear to hold her back. there is no room for hesitation. she tries to think like she thinks people who are good at gathering information think; she remembers how important a desk is, and even in the slide of papers cascading from this one, from the papers and books on desks in the room, from the writing that is nothing intelligible strewn across the board in a red she won't examine closely enough to determine is all dry erase or not, she approaches the desk. shuts out the screams and the cries and the sirens; shuts out the alarm. scans papers, shuffles them to the side, looks for a purse, but pauses; finds her arms full of papers she pulls down with her to duck under the desk as heavy footsteps drag through the hall outside the door. she almost doesn't hear them.

under the desk, Chihiro tucks her legs up tight, holding on to her papers. they might be nothing. it's only with her breath held, listening to the dragging steps leave, that she dares to sort through them; finding some kind of book with writing throughout. a planner? a lesson book? she doesn't know, but it's better progress than anything else.

it's then that she hears the crying she's been unable to hear before. coming from further back in the room. clutching the lesson planner to her chest, Chihiro makes her reluctant way forward. presses herself into determination, and strides past strewn supplies; past an apple that lies forgotten, on the checkered tile. the crying comes from one of the cupboards at the back of the class. it is small, that cry. it is the sound of someone who is unaware they make sounds as they cry. tiny whimpers, choked breathing, a nose that won't stop running. )

Hello?

( there is a hitch, and a silence, and a low keen. fear. she understands that, even as she moves forward. anyone could be infected, maybe. is that true? is that true? )

I'm the only one here right now. We need to get out, to get where it's safe —

( the voice that cries out is thin and high: "No!" and she steps forward, crouching next to the cupboards. )

But your parents won't be able to find you if you're in here. You want to go home, right? It's scary, and you want to go home. I do too. I want to go home more than anything. Will you help me find the way?

( shuffling, and more crying. the cupboard peeps open, light glistening off an eye. an evaluation of Chihiro as she crouches, holding her book, and then the young boy flings himself out and at her, clinging to her arm, snot and tears streaked across his face. "I want to go home! Mom and Dad always pick me up from the roundabout. Are they going to be there? Are they going to be here, because I don't want to be, I want to go home and do my chores and eat all my vegetables and I'll never complain again I'll even clean my room —". sheer breathlessness steals his words, and Chihiro manages to stand, dragging him along with her and pulling him close to say, firmly: )

Hush. Whatever we do, we need to be very quiet. And then we'll get to where you meet your parents, and your parents will come find you. Okay?

( "Promise?"

she pulls him along, gritting her teeth. promises are tricky things. promises are things she cannot make. is she old enough to choose to lie, to make someone younger than her feel better? )

I promise that I'll try.

( no. not today.

it isn't enough, but the third grade boy clings to her, holding on to her shirt and her arm, stumbling and shoving his face against her side before he peers around her and starts crying again at the sight of blood. she shifts the planner, tucking it into her pants over her stomach with one arm, awkward, but he won't let her go, and she doesn't ask. she simply takes hold of his wrist, and she leads him the other way. away from the trail of injured and bleeding. to another exit, hopefully one with other people; people who she can hand him to, because she is not part of this world, part of this city. she can only hope to be part of the solution to what's going on.

in whatever small way she might manage.

it is as they turn another corner down another hall that she finds herself facing a man who looks ill; one of the janitors, generally pleasant, holding himself stock still and staring at her with a jerk belying the struggle he feels to keep himself in place. "Not the kids," he says, more moans, repeats to himself again and again. "Not the kids." the little boy at her back trembles. Chihiro squeezes his wrist. tells him: )

Walk to the door, and go through it. Then run as fast as you can to the front of the school. Okay? You can do this.

( a firm shake of his head; crying, holding on to her, shaking his head again. "I can't, I can't, I can't." )

You've got to.

( and if it is fear, or if it is the smile she turns on him, paired to the certainty of determination in her eyes when she pries his hands off her and shoves him back, pointing imperiously to the doors leading to the bright skies of the outside world, she doesn't know. maybe he doesn't know. something clicks, and he runs; she twirls around, facing the janitor who is so far winning against the urge to chase, the aggressive need to hurt. for how long?

she can't let him attack that boy.

she just hopes Jin and Haise will get here in time. )

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. But you can't chase him, and I can't — please, stay there.

( please, she thinks. both of you, make it through. because she will handle this adult, if she must; when she hears the door slam open, both she and the janitor jerk, and he lunges forward, only hauling himself off to the side at the last second to hit the wall. "Go... go!" he shouts, but that, too, isn't the best answer. so she ignores him, and she darts around in front of him again, a tiny living wall between this man and the doors through which the little boy has run. )

Please. Stay here.

[pummelling]

[If there's one thing that ALASTAIR has done properly, it's the magitek.]

what happened [is what he shoots back instantly, his thoughts racing too quickly for him to properly piece his words together past instinct. Chihiro had remembered his words, had thought to call him directly, and it's highly unusual enough of an occurrence that he freezes in the middle of the sidewalk. It's not some schoolyard altercation, it can't just be that. So what--

A moment later, the piercing wail of police sirens cuts the air a street behind him. Jin realizes that it doesn't matter what's happened: they're headed for the school. They're headed for her, and he is already running.]

on my way, hang in there

[Thank the gods that he'd been heading to the hospital to snoop about, anyway: the elementary school isn't far. It's fifteen minutes if he walks and ten if he runs. It's eight if he rides the wave of terror-fueled adrenaline and takes off like a shot, seven if he hops someone's fence and cuts through a backyard, seven and a half if he nearly bowls over some poor man leaving the Dollar Club (where's the fire?! jesus!). He can't shave any more seconds off the perilously short clock than that.

The police beat him to the elementary school, of course, and at the very least they and the rest of Woodhurst's emergency services have done their jobs. Jin counts a fire truck, ambulance (scratch that, plural ambulances), another pair of police cars screeching to a stop as he slows to a stop and catches his breath again.

It's a shitshow. Gods, it's a shitshow, and it's only fanning out further from the school every minute. Anxious teachers and staff are clustered together, anxiety written all over their features. The signs of age on the principal's face seem to draw deeper, heavier lines as she's interviewed; she shakes her head at the officer and impossibly retains her composure even as a colleague weeps into his hands a foot away from her.

Jin inhales slow, exhales deep. He can make it work to his advantage.

The police barricades and huddled civilians are hard to permeate, but not impossible. He can shrug off the grasping hands of officials and paramedics and play it right--] Get off, my sister's in there! [--and, broad-shouldered and persistent in his surge forward as he is, he'll make it. Even if he has to shove a few cops over. He has to.

A side door's his answer, and he's clearly not the first one to discover it. A student, tears streaming down his face, stumbles outside and directly into his way.]

Hey, kid, y-- ["She told me to run and she's alone, please, I'm supposed to go to the front of the school! She's gonna--" and all the rest is hiccuping, unintelligible sobs.

Jin kneels down to the child's level. He squeezes the boy by both shoulders, and his heart sinks into his gut like a stone.

Chihiro.]

Go-- just go! I'll help her! [Without another word he's back on his feet and pushing the boy back on his path as he makes his way back on his own; the child hesitates, but only for a moment. (He'll listen, he'll listen; he's got to; he runs as quickly as his feet can carry him to the front of the school and to safety.)]

Chihiro!

[She's in one piece. Brave thing, small thing, she's firm on her feet, and not quite close enough for him to grab and dart out to safety right away.

The infected janitor scrabbles against the stucco wall. He scratches deepening furrows into it, breathing hard, drawing beginning streaks of bright red blood into the white.

"I c-- I can't-- not long, now. Not the kids, not the kids."

It's too late for him.

Jin leaps forward to grab Chihiro's arm as the janitor's mind slips away into the dark.]

[ex_adept136]

[Haise is hunkered down in a squad car nursing a cup of coffee when Chihiro's message flashes across his awareness. He fumbles, nearly tossing the cup as he scrambles for purchase when visited with this new and glaring alarm. She's at school, but she's not safe, and there are others. His grip on the cup is entirely too tight, and the officer beside him shoots him a look, heavy brow crinkled with concern.

"Sasaki, what bit yo-"

It's as far as the other man gets before the static crackle of the radio interrupts him. A swift, clipped message of dispatch. Infected sighted at Woodhurst Elementary, requesting backup. Beside him, Officer Smith curses, firing up the car and sending sirens blaring as they race down the street. He thinks he sees a familiar face — Jin, from the holiday festivities in Oska — but he can't be sure. The world's a frantic blur as Smith runs red lights and ignores stop signs.

Smith's twins go to the same school as Chihiro, Haise remembers belatedly. He's got every right to be afraid right now. Not only are children in danger, his own are there. His own might be the ones with Chihiro right now, for all that they know.

The squad car nearly hits the curb when they reach the front of the school, and Smith wrestles with his seat-belt like he's quite forgotten how to free himself, swearing interspersed with the names of his children and quiet pleas that they be safe.

Haise finally remembers the coffee cup clasped between his white-knuckled hands. Remembers to set it down. He remembers only because he needs to place one of those hands on his fellow officer's arm right now. One of the first respondents shouldn't have to be a parent, but he doesn't think Smith is the only one]

We're here now. We'll help them.

[Smith stares hard at him for a long moment before he nods, numbly, and releases the seat-belt with a click. Maybe it's the other man's terror that dulls his own, Haise wonders as they exit the vehicle. It seems they're among the first there, but already a crowd has gathered. Students and teachers crowd around the front of the building, children wailing loudly and adults attempting to console them.

Insistent voices rise up about the names of friends still inside, and Haise can hear them. He can also hear a familiar voice shouting about his little sister, confirming for him that the figure their vehicle had streaked past before is just who he thought he was. There comes a small relief simply for that knowledge, as he turns to Smith]

I know you're worried- ["You're damn right I am, if you had kids-] once the others get here, you know how it'll go. Red tape, waiting, standing around here. ["I'm going in there, I'm getting those kids out-"] You've seen what I can do at the barricade- ["But I-] You've seen what I can do, I can handle this. Someone needs to keep the people out here safe, and I have to entrust that part to you.

[Smith fixes him with another hard stare, obviously weighing his options. Once a more senior officer gets here, shots will be called, and that means further delay. The danger they're facing is one they can't fully understand, but the man has seen for himself what Haise Sasaki can do. He'd joked once or twice he should be a stuntman in some superhero flick.

And so, grudgingly, he relents. "Fine, just go. We're wasting time."

His only answer is a nod before he ducks under the hastily constructed barrier his fellow policemen are erecting, without offering explanation. Based on the uniforms around him, he's the first detective on the scene, and he doesn't see anyone of higher rank yet. That's lucky for him, because he doesn't need any more delays.

At least Smith was easy to convince, and it's the last thought he can spare for his cover in this place before he pushes the doors open and hurries into the building. Well, the second to last]

Woodhurst Police- [He calls, the hallway barren but for debris and one teacher he knows to be dead without pausing to check] Is anyone there?

[In a flurry of movement, a young woman ushers a group of children out of one classroom, crowded about her and clinging to her skirt. Haise steps aside and nods toward the door, pointing his pistol at the ground as he makes every effort to look and act the part]

It's safe outside-

[It's all the assurance they need before hurrying toward the doors. He watches them retreat before his anxious energy bids him carry on. He's got to find Chihiro, and he only hopes Jin managed to get to her sooner]

then i turn this into quick action i'm so sorry

[onethousen]

( a hand around her arm, a familiar voice, a sense of a man who feels impossible large, larger than life: Jin. Chihiro moves where he moves, going along with his tug and desperately holding out her syringe: )

Jin! Take this!

( while her other hand slams over the planner tucked into the front of her pants, cradled in part by her shirt. the janitor, lost to the blinding hunger of the virus, launches himself at Jin, bloodied fingertips curved into human, ineffective claws, lips pulled back from teeth that were never properly designed to rend and tear. he doesn't speak, doesn't even scream so much as make a strangled sound caught between his last cry as his sanity fled, eyes still tearing up in the last vestiges of a man who had wanted, more than anything, for everything to be okay.

and it's not.

it's not okay at all. )