If We Can't Have It


black_icon.gif brennan_icon.gif delilah_icon.gif eileen_icon.gif kaylee2_icon.gif magnes_icon.gif raith_icon.gif robin_icon.gif

Scene Title If We Can't Have It
Synopsis …no one can. Summer Meadows sees a fire, but it turns out to be the least of their worries.
Date January 29, 2010

Summer Meadows

The low brickwork walls flanking the entrance to this subdivision pronounce it to be 'S MMER ME DOWS', black metal letters pitted by age and each tilted slightly askew by decades of weather and neglect. The rest of the subdivision echoes this theme — pavement cracked, its lines worn and faded nearly into obscurity; small lawns littered with autumn leaves and dying grass, shrubbery poorly pruned or not trimmed back at all, such flowers as there are in most cases long since grown wild. The buildings are a mix of townhouses, duplexes, and quartered apartments, most of them with paint peeling at the edges, a few boarded over and sporting jagged holes where the windows weren't quite protected enough. Feral dogs slink at the back of the streets; their feline counterparts are less commonly seen, usually visible as no more than a streak of motion disappearing into the bushes or someone's cracked-open garage door. This isn't a neighborhood where people are seen lounging on their porches as the sun sinks low in the sky; to stay out as darkness gathers is to risk unwanted attention, and the consequences thereof.

The sound of running fills the street. Ahead of the youth, a stray cat bounce-leaps out of the way, a snaky stripe tail in its wake. Two at a time, the kid bounds the outside stairs to the doorway of the destitute duplex, his hands slamming on either side of the frame and taking in a breath, lungs sponging air and thick feeling in his chest. He only ran a block and a half, but he's panicked, too. A volunteer worker, peripherally Ferryman, some recruit from the trailers with a blonde haircut that's outgrown itself from the reminder we are all becoming Japan, and his face is red.

"Guys!" he hollers into the building, ignoring the stares he gets from the Ferrymen in the immediate room currently removing the piss stained carpet. He's trying to be heard all the way to the roof, where others are inspecting what to be done about some water damage. "There's a fucking fire— some dudes— do we call the cops?!"

He doesn't know. He's Ferrymen enough not to know.

It's closing in on a winter sundown, the sky gone navy with tinged red at the west, and it's snowing a little. Not enough. He bleats the address of the building in question, before pushing away, running back to the source of excitement and not looking to see who's following as he nearly breaks an ankle going down snow-slicked cement steps.

That morning, the new paint job from two days ago within the apartment building had been all you could smell. Now it's probably the acrid stench of smoke blossoming on out from a window two storeys upwards. The door is broken on its hinges, and there's a pack of— not dogs, men, but they pace like animals, almost, from teenagers to older age and mostly men. Some hold weapons like batons, others don't, winter jackets and coats concealing anything else, and they seem awfully pleased with themselves.

Yellow firelight is licking windows on the third storey too. There's the clatter sound of someone coming down the fire exit along the side of the building.

Brennan had been pinch hitting as a Doctor, set up with his bag in one of the room in a building after one of the residents of the project had approached him with their child with a bad cough. "Sounds just badly congested" This wasn't the best place to do this he realized but it was better than outside. He was was already running a thought to drag Michelle down the next weekend and they set up in someone's renovated home and see who else was sick and not getting much needed help. He'd had a stethoscope up the back of a 3 year old's shirt listening to his chest when someone started yelling about a fire.

It'd drawn him out, stethoscope around neck and sliding his jacket on arm after arm. He was quick to follow after cautioning the woman to stay away from the building in question as he followed the young kid up to the fire in question already pulling out a cellphone and dialing 911.

Not far from the building themselves, when Magnes saw the burning building, and the men standing there looking pleased with themselves, he flew ahead of her and landed on the largest patch of snow he could find. "Damn, everywhere I go…" he says in a disgusted tone, then starts pulling his hands back and thrusting them forward repeatedly, trying to mentally toss large heaps of snow up at the flames.

Robin is lucky enough to not be removing piss stained carpet today, instead working on emptying rubbish out of a house nearby. He doesn't notice the kid running by, but the shouting does get his attention. He can see the smoke and people gathering around, a few with cell phones out. He heads towards the building, disgusted by the state of it and the proud looking group nearby. "What the fuck is this?"

Flames are supposed to attract moths, and although the two figures approaching the source of the hazy orange glow are dressed in drab colours, their shapes are unmistakably human. The smaller of the pair is moving at a brisker pace than her broader-shouldered companion, though her face appears paler and gaunt, dark circles set under a pair of green eyes that lack their usual brightness.

Eileen hasn't completely recovered from the blood transfusion she performed for Eric Doyle when the Ferry brought him to her doorstep two nights ago, which might be why Raith has insisted on accompanying her to Roosevelt Island this evening in case she should cross paths with someone who might wish her harm. Emile Danko and Feng Daiyu are not the only two enemies that the Vanguard Remnant has.

Flakes of white snow gather in the young woman's dark hair, partially covered by a dark gray headscarf that matches the peacoat she wears, and on the fringe of her eyelashes, making it even more difficult for her to see with the thick smoke being churned out of by the building's windows.

A scarf wound around her head, not just to protect from cold, but also whatever is under the carpet, Kaylee glances up at sound of the young kids voice. Dressed in her work clothes, ragged jeans, gray sweat shirt under her winter gear. She's quick to drop the section of carpet she's been helping to yank up, so that she can hurry out of the door to see what he's about and quickly follows at the sight of it.

Pulling the scarf off her face, Kaylee's breath puffs white as she runs, catching the young man about tries to break is neck. "Careful kiddo, won't do any good to get hurt." When they get to the building, she slows to a stop near Robin, eyes scanning the men. "Just.. great. Revenge maybe?" She murmurs to the man next to her.

Delilah came along with Magnes first- but as he immediately vaults off to save what he can, it leaves the redhead to jog to catch up with some of the other familiar Ferry workers now filing outside to see what all the hubbub is about. Her heavy coat practically warms itself at the sight of fire along the sky- there's little else that she can do aside from flipping open her phone and being one of many to call 911, keeping her eyes on the building before flitting towards the others, and then to the group in front of the burning house looking oh so pleased.

"Is there anyone in there!? Who the hell are they? Oh- shit- hi, I'd like to report a fire- it looks like arson and the guys are still there, there's a bunch-" So begins her explanation to the operator.

"Well, great." Maybe it's for the better that Raith did decide to accompany Eileen. It doesn't matter whose work this is: Events like this have a tendency to inspire those who witness them to become involved in acts of idiotic heroism. Like Eileen, he's bundled up, woolen hat on his head and scarf around his face, although he's done this to disguise himself as much as to keep warm. There were certain conditions attached to their release from the government, and he is definitely breaking at least one of them right now. "Fucking great. This is exactly what the evening needed." So far, he hasn't had to stop Eileen from rushing into the flames, but knowing he… he won't ever have to, unless someone she knows is at risk.

There's a steady trickle of Ferrymen— safety in numbers— that are coming out of the woodwork to see the commotion, and phones being whipped out when some have the same idea as Delilah, as Brennan, save for one which is raised aloft to take a picture. Inevitably, the police will come, and with however many firetrucks can be squeezed into Roosevelt Island, but for now, there's no sound of sirens, only the crackling of fire and then—

The shattering of glass as a half-full bottle of beer is flung. It strikes the pavement maybe two feet from where Magnes had landed to gather snow. "Evo freak, fuck off!" is almost incomprehensible from an older man within the milling group, seven individuals who seemed to think this was a party and brought beer along with gasoline. Snow finds an open window to tumble through, dampening the smoke, but from the outside, it doesn't seem to do much in the way of the fire.

Something is shouted back from the Ferry side, voice whipping over head. Quieter, more sense making, "Jesus, it'll catch onto the adjoined one if the fucking fire department doesn't haul ass— "

"Maybe Meredith could stop it, where the fuck is she?"

Robin might be looking for it, and notice a few familiar faces in the crowd standing out from their work. None of them match his memory of Black, however, decidedly absent from the rabble, but it's all a little too perfect to be a coincidence of some kind.

Brennan's phone is snapped shut, reported to 911 like Delilah, he chooses not to remain on the line. Like one of the others, he catches the comment that it would catch on to the adjoining buildings. A few moments calculations in his mind and the noticing of Magnes in the air along with the flinging of snow works through his brain.

He ignores the evo freak comment from the old bottle flinging guy and a choice to focus on different buildings as opposed to trying to stop this one from burning is made. "Hey you! In the air! Over here!" He's looking around for a fire hydrant, find a source of water. Whoever Meredith is, she's too late to do anything right now, but other buildings can be saved before the fire department ever makes it here. "Find a fire hydrant" He yells out, knowing that the population of folks that help here, is greater than those who are here to hinder. "Need to get it open! Can anyone manage to get it open or have tools we can use to get it open? You! What's your name?!" This last is yelled to magnes as he's waved over. "Can you shunt water towards the surrounding houses with whatever you do?"

Magnes pulls his black denim jacket a bit tighter over that red Spider-Man symbol shirt when the beer shatters, then turns to face the men. The snow isn't helping, and he certainly can't risk them starting another fire. "I'm a former officer of the NYPD, and I have connections that go deeper than that, I know people who will make sure you're arrested. So go home." He holds a hand out, and a long metallic pole from some construction materials goes flying into his palm, which firmly closes around it.

Without bothering to stick around with the men, but keeping the pole for protection, he starts flying off to the nearest corners to look for hydrants. "I think I can do it, yeah, that should work… I might be able to get the hydrant open too, but I'm not sure." He's never tried, he has no idea!

When he finally finds one at a fairly nice distance to the building, he leaves the pole floating in the air and lands to grip the hydrant with both hands, trying to twist it open. "This thing hurts my fingers!" he complains, but keeps trying, attempting to apply a twist of gravity to unscrew it instead of attempting to outright break it.

Robin is looking for familiar faces in the crowd of rabble rousers, and a tall guy looks familiar, but with all the coats and scarves it's hard for him to be positive any of these are from the same group that they fought earlier in the week. Positive or not, Robin has a gut feeling that this is all tied together, and doesn't like the feel of it at all.

He sets those thoughts aside for now and calls out to Magnes, "I might have something that can help." With that said Rob's off to rummage through the piles of tools, finding a big wrench that might do the job, and heading to the hydrant where Magnes is. "I don't know what you can do, so feel free to tell me what you need."

Apparently, Raith does not know Eileen as well as he thinks he does. Hands gloved in leather tug at her headscarf, freeing it from her hair and the glittering black bobby pins that hold brunette curls in place beneath the babushka. It's becoming harder to differentiate between ash and snow — everything that falls through the smoke darkening the sky has a dirty tint to it, and New York City winters are so cold that almost none of it melts when it comes in contact with exposed skin.

She wraps the scarf around her nose and mouth to filter the air she breathes, mindful of the roiling smoke and what it has the potential to trigger in her. The only voices she can hear are coming from the outside — a good sign, though it doesn't completely discount the possibility of someone being trapped within. Her eyes flick between the windows and Magnes working the fire hydrant before her attention curves toward the men crowding around the building's stoop, exuding smugness.

"Still want to play vigilante?" she asks Raith, her voice muffled by the scarf's densely-knit fabric.

Standing there among the Ferry, perfectly still, Eyes scan over the people milling about, counting heads. There is a slight tilt of her head and Kaylee's ability stretching out, listening to the murmurs of the people milling around before her, even as she moves closer to some of the other Ferry. This one be good, it will only take one thing to send things into a danger places, she watches for that sudden change.

Then she takes a chance to move closer, keeping distance, but trying to get a little closer, eyes moving from the milling bad guys up to the building, ability moving with it to look for even a flicker of something.

"Bugger off!" Thankfully Delilah is off of the phone by the time she sees fit to start yelling at the several men milling around with an obvious hostility. "Cops're on the way, assholes! I hope someone cracks you a good one when they haul you off." Though she isn't aiming it at any one person of the group there- it isn't helping that she is yelling at them. However, she never leaves home without some kind of weapon on her somewhere, so at this point her brass is well-placed, if very poorly executed.

Raith looks to Eileen, and then to the group of men. The shattering glass doesn't catch his attention much; all kinds of glass is probably shattering. But of everyone present, even as distant as he is, they strike him as unnaturally calm, given the circumstances. "I'd be more than happy to," he finals says, unbuttoning the top of his coat to allow him to draw a nine millimeter Glock. "I'll try real hard to leave some for the cops," he adds, yanking the slide back and chambering a round before he begins stalking towards the group of arsonists apparent, street- and fire light making it known to anyone who bothers to look at him that he is armed even before he reaches his personal mark of fifteen yards, a scant fifteen seconds away at his current pace. They'll leave before then on foot, or leave after then in body bags. Either way, the world will be left no poorer.

"Get the hell out of here!" is another cry on the tail of Delilah's shout, a rippling of aggression through the gathered Ferrymen as some lend their voices to the challenge; the youngster who had first fled the scene to warn the others bleating profanity at the arsonists, cellphone clenched in hand as a fist swipes through the air at them. There's honest anger — how much work has been put into this place, and how quick can fire devour it?

Another pound of feet against a metal fire exit staircase, just out of Brennan's periphery, the sight of someone leaping from one fire exit to the next in the narrow alleyway between the burning building and the one next to it. A lanky figure climbs up onto the roof, but once he gets there, doesn't seem to do more than pace.


From the small group of former Meadows drug runners and thugs, this time, one breaking off from the pack to confront where Robin and Magnes are gathered by the fire hydrant. It's a crowbar, probably to help wrench open the doors to slick the insides of the building with flammable liquid, as well as break in skulls. But the Ferry seem to have the two men's back, one similarly breaking from the gathered mob to drive a shoulder against the would be assailant. The fist fight is inevitable, a smack of a fist to a face fleshily sounding out.

Thoughts from the group of arsonists press in on Kaylee's telepathic consciousness. It's predictable, if synergetic, one set of thoughts spurring on the crowbar wielder, another wondering if the fire he'd last seen creeping up drywall would break through to the other building, and then a snatch of something strange: are they ready yet?

It's almost at that exact time that her ability flickers, like a badly tuned radio. A symptom of her own distracting thoughts and half-feelings, a shared anger for what's happening, fear and caution eaten away in favour of this and directed at the group of smug bastards — and it happens to Delilah too, the heat that spurred on her snarling suddenly flaring up like the flames within the building — who seem about chomping on the bit to engage in a fight. Enough that even when Raith's approach is measured, none of them seem ready to run away, one only dipping a hand into his own jacket. Meanwhile, Raith has never had an itchier trigger finger. Or maybe he has, but regardless, a certain urge seems to make his head start to cloud.

"Get that hydrant open, Get the water going, Cover the buildings. Protect the rest of the building or this entire place is going to burn before the firemen get here" Maybe too, the water will shock people. Nothing like cold city water at high pressure to break up a potential Riot. Brennan's taking off then, pushing through people as he gives into the urge to go after the figure that tickled at the periphery of his vision. Victims run, run from one building to another and keep on doing that. Not pace and watch.

One broad hand closes around the fire exit of the building and he hauls himself up, other hand slapping down in the iron fire escapes and using his strength to pull himself up then proceed upwards, racing for the top of the building.

When the lid finally pops off, he stumbles back a few feet. Luckily there's no water on yet, and he takes the wrench from Robin to start turning the water itself on from the top of the hydrant. "I've got it, just give me a moment, a little more…"

Robin's aware of the fight going on behind him, but waits until Magnes has the wrench before turning to see exactly what's going on. "I should've grabbed two wrenches," he mutters before punching a thug that was heading Magnes' way. He shakes his hand out with a quiet ow, then gets clocked in the cheek with a solid right cross. Fighting is not his forte, thogh he throws himself into it, trying to give Magnes enough time to get the water flowing.

Eileen watches Raith's retreating back as he encroaches on the men, his wide silhouette backlit by the flames. He and Ethan are cut from the same cloth — with Gabriel dead and Fenrir missing, she feels more confident with Jensen at her side than she might alone with an angry mob pressing in around her. And they are angry. Her gut twists in sympathy, anxious tension creeping its serpentine way through her body, but rather than let her emotions consume her, she uses them to fuel her ability and reaches out to Roosevelt Island's feathered inhabitants.

Brennan told them to protect the building. She can help with that. As she draws in a deep breath through the fibers of her scarf, she pulls in every pigeon, sparrow, starling and jay that she can sense within her range. Their minds are metal filings and hers the magnet to which they naturally gravitate toward, thin streams of sleek, aerodynamic shadows that flit through the smoke to form a much larger flock that circles the burning building, its collective belly flushed different shades of yellow and gold by the fire. The wind generated by their wings pushes it back, beating the flames away from the adjacent structures, though there's only so much Eileen can do to contain the spread.

"There…" Kaylee's eyes blink as she looks at the group, then she backs up looking for someone, eyes land on Eileen, having dealt with dangerous situations before with this woman, she seems the natural choice. Hurrying over, Kaylee hissing low enough that the crowd can't hear, slanting a quick look at Raith. "Eileen.. Their waiting for something." A glance to her companion again she repeats the thought, "'Are they ready yet?' That's what I heard. The bastards are up to something."

Turning to glances back at the crowds she frowns, mind looking for that one mind to latch on too. The anger welling up in her, brings a small smile to her lips. It's how she deals with her anger. A hand twitches at her side, as if waiting for the bad guys to make the wrong move.

Being angry is one thing, and being Angry can be another; Delilah suddenly feels the latter, though she of course will attribute it to the situation. The girl dislodges a sleek black handheld from her coat, close examination showing a stun gun with two very angry-looking prongs. She subconsciously happens to come up beside Kaylee and Eileen, offering both of them a look to ask whether or not really starting a big ol'fight is a good idea. It looks like she is wanting to- there's a stubborn look in her eyes at that, and the scowl she was aiming at the group wasn't very restrained.

"Should we wait?" Or help the guy that already has his gun out? Dee hasn't actually met Raith, so that's who he is. The guy with the gun!

With his trigger finger figuratively (and perhaps literally, too!) twitching, Raith manages to maintain until he reaches the fifteen yard mark. Or pretty close to it, at any rate. But the instant he gets over that stumbling block, his sidearm flies up, his free hand meeting it as it's leveled at the one among the group reaching into his jacket. This isn't a slow, dramatic movie threat. This is a fast, military offense: As soon as the gun snaps into position, Raith double taps the trigger, sending two rounds downrange and into his target's chest. Without thinking, moving on instinct, he swings the barrel slightly to the left to line up his next target. There are six of them left in front of Raith, five not counting the one who is now a casualty. His Glock holds seventeen rounds, fifteen now, and he has plenty of extra magazines.

Like he told Eileen: No promises.

Bird flapping drones over head, steering back the fire from leaping from building to building, but it matters little for the burning decay inside. Like shaken champagne from a bottle with the cork only just come loose, water hisses under the pressure of Magnes' efforts as he succeeds. There's a singularity of mind in his actions that acts as a protection for the gravity manipulator, even if he doesn't know it. The anger that comes off the crowd in waves hits him too, makes his chest tighten with coiling anxiety, and the same can be said for Brennan as he beats his way up the fire escape — but both men can also say that their thoughts are their own.

For everyone else—

The gunshots ring out into the night. A man goes down. Instantly, there's an empathetic shockwave of adrenaline, violence, anger, or to more adequately sum it up: rage. Skittery fear, too, fuzzying the periphery of their mindset. Two Ferrymen instantly break off, shouting, but for the most part— there's a physical surge. Despite the threat of death, a woman swings a pipe straight for Raith, bound back hair whipping like a cord and leather jacket as she gives a cry of anger.

Rational thought fragments apart as if it were a glass vase dropped to concrete. The arsonists fling themselves forward as one, and a good majority of Ferrymen fling right back. Kaylee is sent staggering forward when someone who'd been laughing and painting a bulding face just hours ago goes charging past.

Halfway up Brennan's climb, someone peers over the edge; darts out of sight. By the time the good doctor is pulling himself over the edge, the rooftop is empty, or appears to be so. Junk makes piles, hiding places, barricades, not to mention the jut of building where a doorway leads inside, though for now, that appears undisturbed. Snow coats the place, continues to fall and dot hair and clothing.

So much to hide behind, a temporary fleeting thought that maybe it's someone with a gun, maybe not. The gunshot's ringing out below garner his attention for a moment, but as he hauls himself over the edge, stethoscope singing side to side and looking around, he knows there's little he can do down there. The flock of birds too bring raised brows when "Sir. My name is Dr. Brennan. I saw you come from the building. Are you hurt? Burned?" he moves forward, dismissing the places where a person can't adequately hide. "you need to get off this building in case the fire jumps here. It's not safe" It's akin to trying to track down some injured kid in the third world, hiding in the various ghetto's. Sorta. Maybe. Only less language barrier.

Robin feels the surge of anger, but chalks it up to the fight that's going on. A crowbar swinging at your head is bound to cause an adrenaline rush. With his focus on grabbing the crowbar he doesn't notice anything odd going on with the others, unless you count gunshots- and with this crowd that can be pretty normal. Both Rob and the arsonist have their hands on the crowbar, and both are tugging for all they're worth in a bizarre game of keep away. With a growl, Robin yanks his assailant forward, kicking out at his knee at the same time in an attempt to take him down and out. And keep the crowbar. Handy little things, those are.

"Jensen!" Eileen's voice rises above the din, lacking the shrillness that's normally associated with feelings of panic and fear. On an intellectual level, she might recognize that these are the emotions she should be experiencing for the only member of her surrogate family left in New York City — unfortunately, she isn't operating on an intellectual level right now.

A cardinal wheels past, a splash of blood red against the snow, and clips Kaylee's ear as the avian telepath's control begins to degrade and the edges of the flock peel away like the wallpaper withering under the fire's scorching heat. Whatever answer she might've had for the other two women is swept away by the fury washing over the crowd — a flash flood of emotion that surges recklessly through, sparing no one except Magnes with his fire hydrant to anchor him.

Eileen's hand is on Raith's arm, fingers biting into his muscles through the material of his coat. She's never grasped at him this hard. Neither has he ever seen her eyes so dark, irises made charcoal gray by the choking smoke and the absence of light its presence creates in the air.

Somehow this is all his fault.

"Stop." Her voice comes out in the form of a throaty snarl thick with desperation, more feral than human, upper lip curled back to expose her teeth and the pale of her gums. The hand not at his arm is wound round his scarf, steering his attention down toward her — woman swinging the pipe at him be damned. She can't take him anywhere.

Anger overwhelms her thoughts as these people are ruining everything they worked hard to do over the last couple of months. This doesn't throw her forward yet. It's a fellow member that sends her stumbling forward, then Kaylee is moving with the group. The look in her eyes is deadly, last time she felt this, need to use her ability, was in Pinehearst.

Spotting a man right in front of her, charging one of her own people… A hand flies out, her ability sinking into his head, "«Stop!»" She hisses viciously, making the individual stumble to a stop. Then another flick of her fingers are followed by a simple, "«Attack them.»" She growls out, the attackers head filling with the images of his own people. Then with a mental push she send him off.

All the while something tickles at the back of her mind. Something isn't right here… something… Then a bird clips her ear and for a moment it shocks her. A hand lifts to touch her ear, when it suddenly hits her. This wasn't how she is suppose to be. Suddenly her eyes screw shut as she pushes away at the assaulting emotions. I've been so good! When did she back slide? Been so good. That isn't suppose to be how she is.

Delilah doesn't give much between time when she is one of the people suddenly moving forward for contact- she may not be entirely aware of where this anger has come from, but what she does know now it that this is going to turn into a lesson on defense in about two seconds. And that the police and fire departments are both coming. So why is she getting into the scuffle? Because they made the first blow, technically. And because she has some bizarre and righteous anger on hand. Raith just embodied a big fat 'not today' for the rest of them.

The moment that she is able to find an opening, Delilah is aiming the prongs of her stun gun at the neck of the nearest rival. SNAP-SNAP-BZZT.

Not nearly as loud as a gunshot, but just as startling when it is virtually in your ear.

Mentally grabbing the flow of water gets Magnes pulled at first, then he anchors himself down and carefully presses gravity against the opening of the hydrant. He has to experiment for a few moments, but eventually he gets the flow right, and arcs a large torrent of water into the air. A good portion of it goes into trying to dowse the fire, while a smaller but still rather large part of the water continuously shoots straight up into the air, covering the area in a kind of artificial rain. He's wincing and straining, in part because of just how erratic the flow of water is, and the sheer volume and strength of it he has to keep funneled non-stop. "Just keep my back until I stop the fire!"

The fingers gripping into Raith's arm certainly draw his attention away from the incoming woman and pipe, but it's not enough to short-circuit his instincts, not even after Eileen's grabbed his scarf and is pulling him down and around. He has enough of his wits to not resist, and instead goes with it, whirling around almost completely. Eileen is grabbed back, Raith's fingers digging into her arm, but his other assailant has something far worse to worry about into the form of the vigilante's leg, chambered and fired forward at the end of Raith's spin. Textbook reverse side kick right into her midsection with enough force to crack and break ribs, while giving Raith enough reach to avoid blocking the pipe with his face. The good news is that she isn't a threat anymore. The bad news is that now, Eileen has his undivided attention.

She may as well have the undivided attention of a charging bull.

Every successful blow dealt seems to sweep shared victory through the mob of Ferrymen, and every blow taken sparks up insult and anger. There's no relent to it. An older man trips over his feet, and stays down when a boot plants on the high of his back as another surges over to grab onto the coat of one of the arsonists and wrestle them to the ground. Delilah's stun gun sends someone staggering back to the ground, and before he has a shot of recovering, the thug's head snapping to the side under the brutal kick of one of her companions.

Ash and snow are both muddied into nothing as makeshift rain coats the nearby area, including the sudden riot that has broken out, threatening to escalate in a shark's frenzy.

A crowbar comes loose from a set of hands, the assailant toppling to the side and allowing Robin possession of the weapon. The woman coming at Raith folds under his kick, falling back and into the waiting grip to her hair by a Ferryman, wrangling her down. In the jostling crowd, Kaylee's concentration rewards and punishes. For one thing, that oppressive rage seems to lift as thoughts that don't belong to her, but the group, are forcibly yanked away.

For another, an elbow goes flying directly for her face.

Brennan's warning, meanwhile, comes in the form of the sound of shifting tarp when someone is shoved aside. He doesn't get a lot of opportunity to see before the figure of a thug— Brenton Black, all wild dark eyes and scowling mouth— comes flying at him, surging in a kind of rugby tackle designed to drive him back. With any luck, hopefully over the edge of the rooftop.

Sirens begin to wail into the night, the flash of red and blue suddenly lighting up the far end of the street.

Brennan backpedals at first, surprised that the man's coming at him as opposed to just showing himself or running away. The Physician looks behind him and the looming alleyway, metal girders and rails of the fire escape. Going left, or right is likely to be expected and the good Doctor is not about to willingly make his wife a widow any time soon.

Negation with a look is automatic, it's instinctual and habitual. Likely not to last for long as he chooses to drop down to his knee's at the last moment, tucking head under hands, chest to knee's with the stethoscope dangling and turned in so that any contact with Black is to his shoulder and side of his body.

Robin calls over his shoulder to Magnes as he wields the crowbar, swinging it at anyone that gets too close, "I got you covered, just get that fire out." Then there are sirens coming closer, and Robin flinches. "Or let the pros do it; and we get the hell out of here."

If Raith is a charging bull, then Eileen has him by the horns. She pulls back on the scarf with enough force to constrict his trachea, though he's in no immediate danger of being choked out or losing consciousness — she lacks both the leverage and the opportunity for such a maneuver as much as she might like to. The blood pounding in her ears acts like a war drum, each beat of her heart pumping adrenaline through her tiny body, which trembles with raw anticipation.

She hasn't felt this alive for a long time. Her hand moves down his arm and closes fingers like talons around his wrist, aiming the gun away from her chest so if it does discharge she won't join the ranks of the fallen bleeding out into the snow. He's hit her before. She isn't afraid of that.

"Pull yourself together," she's hissing. "We didn't come here to kill anyone!"

As her eyes are shut, Kaylee is not in any way aware of the elbow flying at her face. She gets a moment to feel triumph at the success of freeing herself from that hold, but then her world explodes into pain as she gets elbowed against one cheek, sending her sprawling to the ground.

She has enough mind to fling out a hand and tries to yells "«Leave me alone.»" To the person assaulting her, before she rolls over onto her hands and knees and stumbles back to her feet. A hand presses to the side of her face.

The sirens catch her attention and Kaylee glances that direction, hand still pressed to her face. Spinning around in a panic she spots Eileen and Raith fighting. What the…?? "Eileen!" Trying to ignore the throbbing in her cheek, she hurries towards the two, edging around that gun. "«Stop.»" Her eyes shift between them and she hits them both with her ability. "«Both of you. Think clearly.»" Already she can tell the vision of one eye is being impaired with the injury, the one side of her face turning red. "Someone if fucking with us, making us fight. The cops are coming I doubt you all can afford to be caught, anymore then I can." She hisses as she tries to reason with them. "Have to get out of here."

The victorious feeling elicits a barking laugh out of Delilah as her target falls down- it lasts about three seconds as a smile until she gets sucker-slapped(it's not really a punch) in the side of the face by someone. She's not sure who. Whoever it is, though, she immediately brings up the metal prongs of her stun gun to lash out at them, a swollen cut already formed on her mouth. There are sirens there somewhere, past the buzzing of being hit, the noise of bodies, and the crackle of the electricity- Delilah seems to blink in realization, but being too busy making sure nobody is about to take her head off has precedence here.

She is only close enough to make out a few words that she recognizes as Kaylee's- the warning and explanation are all but lost completely.

When the sirens are heard in the distance, Magnes is pretty much done playing hero and almost instantly releases the water from his control, starting to fly in Delilah's direction. Of course flying gets the attention of others. He's not screwing around in the middle of a riot, he mentally thrusts people out of the way if they get too close, and calls out, "Delilah! We're getting the hell out of here!"

Having a bull by the horns implies that it's under control. Eileen most certainly does not have Raith by the proverbial horns. Although he's too distracted by being choked to do damage to other people, and although his sidearm is not aimed at Eileen, that still leaves him with a free hand. And he uses that hand to jab Eileen in the throat. Not hard enough to kill, nor even hard enough to give trouble breathing, but definitely hard enough to make her let go of him. Now freed, he twists slightly and steps into Eileen's space, swinging his elbow around into the side of her head, taking her down for the count. It's then that Kaylee's ability takes effect on him.

It occurs to Raith that whatever has gone down tonight, it was not anything that was supposed to happen. The fire, the melee, the sirens, the unconscious Eileen, the sirens, and especially the sirens. Quickly crouching to the ground, he picks the Brit up and slings her across his shoulders, and the instant he's sure his balance is solid, he takes off jogging out of the fight and into the night.

Time to get the hell out of Dodge.

There's a cry of fear as Magnes' power deflects people out of the way, his soaring turning eyes even more readily than the screech of sirens. Diving bravely into the milling mob, the gravity manipulator has— absolutely no time at all to see the sudden swing of a baseball bat. It skims the air just next to Delilah's cheek and clocks towards the man's temple, sending Magnes spilling to the floor as neatly as you please.

An arm of a Ferryman wraps around the attacker's neck from behind, pulling him back, and in a few short seconds, there's a rush as people mob the downed arsonist.

"«Lay down your weapons!»"

Others are scattering, Robin among them. Even as a firetruck rumbles into the narrow street, Ferrymen and Remnant alike are scattering apart, rational thought abruptly settling back into their craniums around the same time Brennan's power clamps down on Black's. The thug is met with the doctor's shoulder, goes tumbling over with a shout of alarm. He goes over the edge, the wrong side of the fire escape, threatening to go crashing all the way untl bony hands cling onto the side. He glances over his shoulder, curses, and struggles to find footing.

"«-down your weapons, put your hands on your head and kneel-»"

The drone of a megaphone has some people bailing and winding up pursued, others complying. The men in blue are moving fast, in an attempt to get people out of the damn way of the burning buildings, though held off from a good dosing of water already.

"«-under arrest!»"

No sickening thud of body, no clang of body hitting metal to indicate that the man has plummeted to his death. Brennan's unfolding, glancing to the ledge and the white hand that clings there.

Do no harm. It's not a matter of choice, there is no choice. Doctors don't let a person die and Brennan's hand clamps around Black's forearm, feet planted where roof meets ledge, knee wedged the low wall as his left hand mirrors his right on the empaths other arm. "Not today buddy. Devil gets his due another time, hold on" He doesn't know if he can pull the guy up, but he can at least use his own weight to keep him from falling while he tries to pull him up. "I'd suggest not hitting me yeah?"

"Your not suppose to hit her!" Kaylee exclaims as Eileen crumples to the ground, looking a touch shocked, even as he scoops her up to run. Even with the rough treatment given to Eileen, the young telepath, doesn't hesitate to follow, glancing over her shoulder as the police arrive and start getting out of their cars. There is no way she's going to stand around and be dragged in, it is already going to be hard to explain the hit to her face to Peter. Not to mention what his mother would thing after the help she gave the young woman.

When the megaphone announces the police presence, and the wash of inordinate anger subsides, Delilah is left staring dumbly after Magnes when he gets clocked by a bat. If that surprise does not make her drop the stunner, the second admonishing from the police sends it down to the ground. Just like a hot potato.

All of a sudden she isn't sure if she should be grabbing for Magnes or not- he's bound to just float away! Delilah picks a halfway point, reaching to grab the end of his pantleg before putting the other hand behind her head and getting to her knees. It looks quite absurd, but until one of the officers can grab onto him, she's holding him like a balloon, still licking blood off of her bottom lip in the process. "Bugger."

"Face down, on the floor!"

Delilah gets a view of a forest of legs, ones that kick, stamp, drag. A flash of leather shoes up close before her arms are dragged behind her back, the bracelets of handcuffs clicking into place. Magnes is handled— "Jeeze— where's the— medic! Over here!"— before he can float away completely, and the redhead is hauled to her feet and directed away from the smoldering buildings, her rights read out over the sound of scuffle and sirens.

As easily as the riot had started, the crowd is dispersed like cockroaches under a light. There's the thundering sounds of footsteps up the fire escape around when Black is staggering onto the roof and to safety. Brennan doesn't have a chance to open his mouth before a standard issue gun is pointed his way. "On the ground," is steely instruction. By the look in Black's eyes, as he lifts his own hands in surrender, the doctor is in good company.

Water hoses are a cleansing ritual, washing down the buildings where Magnes hadn't yet. The night has well turned to evening by the time the fire's dead and gone.

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