Cherry Bombs


elisabeth_icon.gif nash_icon.gif

Scene Title Cherry Bombs
Synopsis Liz and Nash take a call about a bonfire.
Date October 31, 2009

Halloween night. By definition, this is one of the worst nights of the year for NYPD officers. Between parties with too many minors drinking to assaults in the street because costumes hide identities, there is ALWAYS more crime on this night.

Up to now, Harrison and Nash have primarily responded as a team to daytime calls. They are generally not out on the streets too much at night unless it's for a specific call. But tonight, everyone is out on the streets. The first hint that something might be off is that Elisabeth turned over the keys to her partner and told him to drive. When the call came in about a bonfire in a tenement building that was also apparently housing a rave of some kind, Elisabeth's response to dispatch was a terse, "Ten-four. Unit en route." The address was routed to their GPS, and Liz nibbled her lip as she flipped the lights on.

To say that Nash has been naive to Liz' demeanor since they started their evening shift would be inaccurate. He has noticed, but figured if she wanted to share then she would. When she doesn't, he figures it's personal and it's not like they know each other all that well to begin with, so he lets it slide. However, when she asks him to drive, and she appears to be more apprehensive, Nash really starts to take notice. Normally he's an insensitive bastard but since he has to work with her on a daily basis, he doesn't want to step on any toes so instead of addressing it outright, as he turns the corner to head towards the fire, he turns to look at her.

"So, should I be worried about you getting really hairy and growing a sharp set of fangs?"

Liz blinks and turns to look at him. "What…?" She looks thoroughly puzzled. "No. Why?" She doesn't seem too off-kilter as yet, but she does seem wary. Watchful. Her eyes go back out the front window and she points, "It's that left up there."

Nash shrugs. "Thought I'd ask to be sure. The guys were saying something about you and a full moon the other day and told me to watch out." The corners of his mouth curl up just slightly. The orange glow of the fire and the drifting of smoke can be seen now as they get closer. The music is loud enough to be heard from this far away as well.

She rolls her eyes as the car comes to a stop, and Elisabeth peers out the windshield. "Shit…. What a bunch of stupid fucks. A barrel fire's one thing, but Christ… they've got an actual bonfire," she says incredulously. She's apparently not going to dignify that comment with more than the eye-rolling.

Nash pulls the car up next to another parked car and turns on his flashy lights since he has to park illegally. "I guess you need to use your supernag to get their attention over that fuckin' music. When will kids ever learn that turning up the bass doesn't make shitty music any better." He mutters under his breath as he hops out of the car and moves to the trunk to grab a fire extinguisher. A fire truck will probably be along shortly, but he doesn't want to risk the bonfire spreading to some of the buildings nearby.

Elisabeth slants him a glance and says, "My what?" Because oh hell yes, that's going to generate annoyance. "Tell you what, … how about I just make it simple?" The music is absolutely at high decibels, and thanks to a certain now-dead mentor, Elisabeth has practice at interesting little aspects of her ability. Like muting only above certain volumes and such (like muting gunshots). As they make their way toward the building, the music just suddenly …. stops. Or rather, it doesn't really stop, it's just cancelled out by a woman who has the ability to manipulate sound waves. She puts a hand on his arm, though, wary of entering the place with no backup — it's a big group in there.

Nash isn't Rambo or any of those movie hero types. He's not going to rush in there and risk having something happen to his charming good looks. With the fire extiguisher in one, he unclips his weapon. There's already commotion going on inside as someone is trying to figure out what happened to the music, while someone else hovers nearby. He turns to look at her. "We can wait if you want, but.. " The fire.

"We're not the fuckin' fire department," Elisabeth retorts mildly. And she sighs. "~This is the police. You are all trespassing,~" she calls through the open door. Which starts the panic that she'd been HOPING to avoid. Lots of shouting, screeching, people scrambling toward various exits through doors and windows and fire escapes and such. It really is just a bunch of stupid teenagers having a Halloween party, from the looks of things.

Keep the public safe, no matter how stupid they are. That's their job. Clearing the area is exactly what needs to be done at this point. Nash isn't all that interested in arresting anyone as he is getting the fire put out. "Pull. Aim. Squeeze. Anyone can be a fireman, right?" He pushes past the exiting crowd as he aims the first extinguisher towards the flame and starts to blast. Unfortunately, this bonfire is not going to be dented by this small extinguisher. "Shit. Where's the fucking Fire Department?" Didn't she just say something like that?

Pulling the radio off her belt, Elisabeth says into it, "Dispatch, this is Unit Forty-Four — we're going to need a fire truck at this location. The rave definitely has an actual bonfire…. inside the damn building. Out." She's watching the crowd carefully, and just as Nash starts spraying extinguisher at the flames, there are several loud popping sounds. Like gunshots. It starts a panic among the kids fleeing — there's suddenly screaming and pushing and frenzy where before they were just in a hurry — and Elisabeth freezes. "Nash!" she shouts.

"What?" Calling his name while someone is shooting doesn't seem very productive to him, especially when you're just going to stand there. There's a flash of annoyance that crosses his face as he drops the extinguisher as he glances at Liz and reaches for his weapon starts back for the way they came. He turns to see if she's coming. Something is definitely off about her today. With potential gunfire going off, he doesn't have time to figure out what it is right now.

Refusing to pull her weapon in this crowd, Elisabeth crouches and circles the bonfire with her hand on the gun in her holster without drawing it. She spots a young man — perhaps the DJ — throwing something into the fire, and the popping sounds happen again seconds later. She calls out to her partner, "Cherry bombs!" Fireworks. The guy freaked her the hell out with fireworks. Now she pulls her weapon and advances on the DJ, "Hey! Hands up, asshole! NYPD!"

The DJ, for his part, looks back at her wide-eyed and then bolts toward the back hallway. She skirts around the booth and chases after him, losing focus on the silence bubble back in the room itself in favor of chasing down the little bastard chucking fireworks into the fire and creating a panic.

"Shit." The frickin' music is back. He tucks his weapon away, as he watches Liz draw hers. What the fuck? Is it backwards day or something. Dammit. He picks up a mug, dumping out the contents of liquor-ish something or other and chases after Liz and the DJ, catching up to them. "Put the weapon away, Harrison. Shit, are you fuckin' insane?." Nash pitches the mug towards the DJ, aiming for the back of his head. Bullets, bad. Ceramic to the bad of the head? A-okay.

It didn't seem backwards to her — a couple more fireworks go off behind them and Elisabeth flinches slightly. When the mug connects with the back of the jerk's shoulders, knocking him off balance right at the back door, she heads down there. "No," she raps out over her shoulder, "I'm planning on arresting that one for creating a riot.

Shoulder? Nash is going to have to hit the pitching cages again soon. He's losing his touch. There should be porcelain embedded into the dude's skull right about now. He's right behind her as she reaches that back door. "So arrest him already. No need to wing him now." Sure, he's been tempted a couple of times..

The DJ has apparently the luck of the Irish — As the two cops round the back doorway where the kid stumbled out into the alley, someone is helping the kid up. And hauling him off around the corner. And now, Elisabeth puts the firearm away. "You know what? Fuck it, it's not worth the foot chase. The fire's more important." And at the front of the building, the sounds of fire trucks pulling up can be heard.

Running his hand over his face, Nash just shakes his head. Isn't that what he said? Hello? Fire extinguisher! He is at least glad to see the fire truck arrive as they begin to work putting out the fire. "What the fuck was that, Harrison? I said the fire was important and you went chasing after a cherry bomber. Now the fire is more important when the asshole gets away?" Though Nash doesn't say it outloud, he did notice her freezing up when those firecrackers went off and his eyes say as much. "What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing," Elisabeth bites out. She walks down the alleyway out toward the front where their car is. The bonfire is actually starting to bite through the ceiling of the room the stupid idiots lit it in by the time they get around the front. She scowls and stops to speak to the fire chief, telling him the short version and giving him her card so he can call if they find anything that needs a better looking-over. And then she's back with Nash, her expression carefully neutral.

That was a carefully worded nothing. Almost too defensive for Nash's tastes. He waits while she makes nice with the fire chief, but for the most part things look fairly under control. The building is probably no good now, though that may have been the case before the fire even started. As she returns, he eyes her cautiously. After all, she could burst his insides with her sonic enabled vocal chords or something like that. So she said anyway. "You feel there's something I need to know, you better tell me." Something's happened to her. That much he can tell. Whether in the line of duty or what, but the way she's reacting causes him to think it was something fairly recent. He turns tow walk towards the car and let the firemen get to their work.

She's silent as they walk back to the car. Once they're inside the car, the blast of music from inside the burning building muted by the glass and steel of the vehicle (and fizzling out as the fire finally hits the equipment inside), Liz blows out a breath. "I… got shot. About a month ago. After being…. held captive for a couple of days." That is assuredly NOT in her service record, which he has a copy of by now. Nor has anyone in the precinct mentioned it to him. "I still have a bit of trouble being out at night — so this run is stressful." Seriously lacking in the details there.

And she'll tell him when she's good an ready. If ever. It's enough for now. Enough that she acknowledges it. "Is this going to be a problem?" Because, seriously as partners they are depending on each other out there. I mean, going out in a blazing gun battle is far dramatic than going down because you're partner couldn't pull the trigger. But at least he knows now. Nash can adjust if need be in the heat of the moment.

There's a long pause. "It hasn't been so far… but I haven't had a partner to worry about," Elisabeth admits quietly. She looks at the man. "Most people go through their whole career and only pull their gun a dozen times. Somehow, I think I've alreayd surpassed that number. But….. It won't happen again. I won't let another partner get hurt on my watch — certainly NOT by my own actions, Nash." She gestures to the radio, where another call comes through. "Let's roll."

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