Participants:
| Scene Title | Exodus, Part I |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | One group of escapees make their way out of New York, and pick up a few stragglers and narrowly avoid a group of rioters. |
| Date | November 8, 2010 |
Red Hook — Docks
Thou shall endure.
With smoke hanging in the air from fires smoldering in Queens visibility is obscured. In many ways, this has been an assistant to them, more than a henderance, hiding the small yacht docked at Red Hook. The longer it's there, the less likely it will go unnoticed. A patrol boat had gone by an hour before the perwinkle dry cleaning van pulls up, evacuating the last of the escapees from Gun Hill, and various other locations.
A small family, husband and wife and tweenage daughter hurry out, before glancing back at the others remaining inside. "Are we sure it's safe?" The groups have split up. If they set off from different locations, one group can be lost without sacrificing everyone. It's sound logistically— but it still has a horrific numbers way aboutit.
Off in the distance, glass shatters, someone can be heard yelling, screaming. The darkness and the smoke and the lack of bright street lights makes it difficult to see how close it is to them. The riots may not be as bad as in some places of the city… and maybe it just sounds closer than it really is.
Ryans says, "As safe as we are able to get," It may not be the words the family wants to hear, but it is as close to the truth as Benjamin Ryans will get. Holding open the door to the van, he watches as people step out. His blood stained duster, moves lazily around his legs in a passing waterside breeze. His fedora shadows, blue eyes that are darkened with circles and holding a sort of sadness.
Everything had gone wrong.
Loosing one of his most trusted team mates had been a stress on Ben, even though he did his best not to show it on the surface. Between that and the attack on the council the old man is worn out and only one person really knows it. "But this is better then standing around and waiting.""
It took a little time for Jaiden to make his way from the hospital fire in Queens to here, using back streets, roofs, and other alternate means of getting from point A to B. Cars were useless, taxis couldn't be found, and buses? Forget about it. He's just thankful his garage is locked up tight behind welded steel doors and chain-linked fences topped with razorwire. Sure, it's a bit 'GO AWAY' of him, but when you want to project that his garage is not somewhere to mess with without a large expenditure of time and effort.
A bit before the appointed time he arrives, waiting on the dock, loitering almost, with his backpack, staying out of sight beneath the docks, floating on a raft made of water adjusted by his power to support his weight and stay in the shadows, like one of those water skipping bugs that uses surface tension to stay on the surface. At the sound of the truck approaching he peers out from beneath and, when he sees the dry cleaning van pulled up, floats over to the ladder and climbs one rung at a time, his backpack strapped tightly around his shoulders and waist.
"Oi. Ryans…" Jaiden looks the man over for a moment before turning his attention to the family. "Get a move on, you guys. Boat got here about thirty minutes ago and those voices don't sound far enough away to suit my tastes."
ORDER: It is now your pose.
One person knows it, and Huruma has not said a word. They'll have time to stop what they're doing when they get away- her questions, and any emotional ministrations, can wait until then. The refugees from Gun Hill are quite good at shutting up, except when things start happening. There is only a moment of mental praise for Ryans when he answers them. The tall woman slinks out of the driver's seat, only reaching back to hoist up a monstrous shotgun sitting between her and the passenger side. Huruma can only hope she doesn't have to use it, slinging it across her back when she disembarks and moves quickly to help pace those they are helping to escape.
Her field, usually passively concentrated on events nearer, has been pushing itself to the edges of her capacity, at least in terms of keeping her senses wide open. It is not hard to keep it up, but it does get quite bothersome when she is able to sense even the most mundane of presences flickering through it.
ORDER: It is now your pose.
Standing on the deck of What Jenny Thought is Wes Smedley, his own oilskin catching a bit more of the breeze coming in off the water. Beside, him, trotting back and forth across the deck with his neck extended and his tail held high is a tri-colored mutt of a dog, his dark eyes intent on the approaching new arrivals. Smedley too watches the people piling out of the van for a moment before he turns and ducks, disappearing for a moment as he unlatches the hatch to the cabin.
Where there normally be a bed, table, and chairs, there is just open, empty space. The better to fit more people in. But Smedley didn't knock out the cabinetry or the shelves in what would normally be the luggage bins. He needed a place for extra ammunition, after all, and there was the assumption that the refugees would be bringing some initial supplies with them.
When he rights himself again, Smedley takes stock of the arms laid out on the deck. Three rifles and two shotguns, each with two boxes of the corresponding ammo close at hand to bridge the gap between the deck and the reserves below. With a deep breath, he looks out across the water, willing the patrol boat, or worse, not to swing by again.
Looking back to the people near the fan, he frowns. "Let's move," he calls out gruffly even as he moves to the edge of the yacht to help people aboard.
In some ways, at least the weather is cooperating. It could be super cold. It could be more windy than it is. And it could be raining. Or worse, even snowing. No rain, the air's too dry with that smoke hanging, and the wind allowed it to move a lot further than it may have. Still burning, still casting a hazy glow around all the lights.
Huruma can tell one thing… there's a lot of apprhension in the air. And it's not just coming from those at the dock. It's coming from a short distance away…
Apprehension marked with panic— fear. A feeling that seems to dominate the day.
But they will endure, won't they?
A siren blares. Flickering colored lights in the foggy smoke. Blocks away, but too close for comfort…
And that's when the cloud of oppressive fear gets even closer.
5rSmedley's boat was prepped for more than arrived, which may be good for those who want a little comfort in the fifty miles they have to travel. Still over normal capacity, it will be cramped— though not as dangerously so.
Huruma will feel the grip of fear and concern, settle in Ryans like a cold chill, something that she doesn't usually get from the old man. "Jaiden?!" Taking a step away from the van he glances around. Leaving the truck, the suddenly worried father, moves towards Jaiden, the duster flaring out behind him. "Where is Delia?!" his tone accusatory as he reaches the hydrokinetic.
With Delia having skipped out of the building, Ryans had hoped that Delia had been with her boyfriend. That gave him a measure of comfort… til now. "Where is she, Jaiden?" He growls out not caring if the younger man has a dangerous ability at his calling, blue eyes furious as she stare at the other.
Huruma's power will feel Jaiden's skin prickle slightly at the confrontation with Ryans, a bit of apprehension before the man speaks. "She and I went to the hospital in Queens to see if we could help out with the fire and get a few supplies for the clinic that we normally wouldn't be able to. She and I got separated in the chaos…I went to the pediatrics department, she went to the pharmacy." Jaiden pauses for a moment. "But she's fine. I gave her a radio to keep in contact. She's on her way to the boats." He thinks.
The man seems to believe what he says.
Huruma knows she has to give Jaiden a moment to explain himself- she does not look too pleased either, lurking darkly just past view of Ben's shoulder. Instead of making such demands as he does, however, she has to be the one to try and curb them. White eyes cast over towards the man waiting with the boat, before flicking back to Ryans. Her arm is between the two men, palm at Benjamin's shoulder to make sure he hears her, and doesn't ignore her in favor of, you know, reaching out and choking Jaiden.
"If he says she is fine, she is fine." Huruma knows that he doesn't give his baby nearly enough credit- Delia is more capable than most people think, including herself. "We cannot do this here."
"Ah-hem."
Smedley's clearing of his throat comes once the family has been helped aboard and stowed below and is followed by a soft whine from Carson. "Look, you guys want t'go or not, don't matter much t'me, but I'd like to get this show on the road? Y'all can talk once you're aboard." He gives one of the supports on the carriage house a slap before he turns into it and flips the switch to draw up the anchor. At the grinding sound softened by the deep water, Carson leaps from the boat onto the dock and starts to bite at the rope tying What Jenny Thought to the pier.
Getting the show on the road is probably the best idea, with the noise and the anxiety getting closer and closer to the docks. They may not be able to see what's approaching them, but someone else is able to. Not everyone arrived on time to the boats, and even hurrying as fast as she could across town, Lucille Ryans arrives in the area surrounding the Red Hook docks, just in time to see a group of people fleeing, with belongings on their backs and in their hands, looking like refugees in a disaster movie.
The life they live makes disater movies seem even more realistic…
Another group of people, men, have stopped in front of a store, carrying bats. The glass has been shattered, and they're looting. Riots always cause looting…
Jaiden was right to try to protect his property.
With the smoke in the air from the fires, it's difficult to see far, but even with it, the flashing lights of police cars, military police, most likely, can be seen not too far away. A block maybe. Possibly two…
And the dock with the small yacht and a parked perwinkle dry cleaning van, doesn't seem all that far away— from refugees, from looters.
It's probably a good thing that Huruma is there, cause Ryans looks about ready to grab Jaiden around the neck and squeeze. He's furious. "You left her…" The words sound calm on the outside, each getting spoken with emphasis, but that is not always a good thing, Huruma can feel it. Fists curls tight and his whole body tenses.
It's been a rough day, his nerves are frayed.
The blow Jaiden might be expecting doesn't come, the clearing of a throat not far from them, snaps Ryans out of it. If he was an animal there would surely be a growl, but for the moment, he simply takes a step back. "You better how she doesn't get hurt." That threat is real, very real.
Then the tall man simply steps around Jaiden and starts for the boat. Ben snaps out, "Let's go people."
The normal Jaiden would have a witty retort, a defense against the accusation, a barb to tweak the extremely-tightly wound Ryans, but now is absolutely not the time. Deila is going to the boats. She's okay, he knows she is in his gut. He didn't leave her unprepared, either. A backpack full of stuff she could use, a map telling her how to get from A to B. It's all he could do. It's not like he didn't _look_ for Delia until the absolute last moment, either….it was either find her or make the boats, not both. She's on her way. She's got to be.
Jaiden stands at the dock where it butts against the shore, ready to act as a delay - a target, actually, for the mob's rage, giving the rest of the group time to get away. Being close to such a large body of water gives him plenty of ammunition, and if one were to look beneath the dock, water would be visible in tendrils, snaking around the dock pilings, hiding beneath the decking, ready to be called at a moment's notice. "Call me the instant you're about to cast off and I'll come." he tells the group. "I should be able to hold 'em off." A thin shield of water starts to rise out from beneath the dock, barely visible since it's so low to the deck. It could almost be a mirage, but it's too cool and not sunny.
Thank christ for bulletproof vests, though. Doesn't help much if they aim for the head, though.
Huruma, regardless of her directing Benjamin elsewhere, gives Jaiden a pointed, venomous look when she moves people out onto the dock and for the boat. If something did happen to Delia, everyone is probably going to tear him apart. When she looks away from him again, the woman is already moving swiftly to intercept the others- and Lucille. He'll be happy that he has one, right?
The guns under her jacket feeling like burning coals. This isn't her first choice of what to do, but this is what she needs to do. Deal with it, Huruma.
The sounds of booted feet can be heard as Lucille Ryans skids to a halt in the area, dressed in a pair of dark jeans that have numerous rips and tears in them.. well all her clothing is ripped and torn and it can be seen that she has a few scratches and gashes on her body, but she's standing. Hefting a shotgun in both hands, ungloved with the gloves hanging from a pocket in her pants. She readjusts the backpack on her shoulders and begins to make her way to where she sees her people.
Sunglasses perched on her short, inky black hair do. Light grey eyes scan the area, no Delia. Hm. Lucille looks back at her two companions. Two women, of some sort of Latino descent. The older of the two leans on the younger woman, her daughter for support. "Come on momma. We'll almost there." The younger, Georgina says in Spanish to her mother and then she's looking to Lucille for help. "Paulina, you're safe now. I promise." She says with something of a smile and she's pushing the two forward gently, "I'll catch up, I promise." She says to the two and as they make their way towards the boats. Lucille walks up to Huruma.
She wipes dried blood away from the gash in her forehead and her eyes stare intensely at her father's friend. "Delia?" she asks wearily, putting the shotgun on her shoulders. This little lioness seems to have been through a lot today.
The sound of the anchor chain is Carson's cue to untie the docking rope, yes - but there are still people on the dock, and that fact throws the old dog for a loop. His progress on the rope is slowed by his inattention as he looks from his task to the people gathered, his tail slowly wagging with his own canine brand of anxiety.
The anchor is all the way up by the time that Ryans reaches the boat, and Smedley is out of the carriage house - not to lend this particular refugee a hand up, but to meet him with a gun. "Y'look more'n capable'uh givin' me a hand up here," Smedley says, his tone clipping his words a little more than his accent would anyway. His eyes snap away from the other man to the oncoming refugees, and he's soon pressing the rifle into Ryans' hands in order to help the mother and daughter aboard, directing them to the hatch.
An uneasy sigh rips through him then. "I ain't waitin' all night. Y'all have until I count'tuh ten to get aboard, and then I'm leavin'." Those sirens may still be a ways off, but they're already far too close for comfort.
With most of the people already up on the boat, there's only a few left that need to board— and two more that Lucille brought along as stragglers. And that's when the first of the 'rioters' comes into sight of the docks. It's not the ones carrying baseball bats, but the ones with backpacks on their backs, and even a baby in the arms of one.
"Help us!" one of the sooty young women yells in askance, as she turns around to look behind them. They're scared. They're lost. Some are burned and injured.
And there's no way there's room on the boat for all of them…
In the background, those sirens seem to be getting closer, a sweeping white light cuts through the smoking haze.
There is a look of appreciation and recognition in the eyes of the old man at the sight of the weapons. "More then capable." Is rumbled out in response. As he looks the weapon over really quick, before moving to the edge of the boat closest to the shore and dock, the Mosin-Nagant cradled in both hands as he watches the shore.
A familiar figure in the distance grabs, Ryans attention, it has him setting a booted foot on the edge of the boat. "Lucille." It dawns on him who it is. "Jaiden!" His deep voice loud enough. "It's Lucille! Get her here!" And he means like yesterday if his tone says anything. Ryans stays where he is at the moment, to help those on the boat who needs it, ready to take shots at anyone looking to harm his people. If people take too long he might very well haul himself out of that boat.
Jaiden starts out at a trot towards Lucille and her companions, giving her a brief nod before motioning her along toward the boat, putting his body between her and the 'rioters.' Except, they're not rioters. Not yet, at least. Refugees it seems. "C'mon, Lucille." Jaiden says softly, ushering her toward the docks, doing a quick count. Six….and a baby. Great.
Glancing over his shoulder to the boat, Jaiden urges the bloodied Lucille on. Six…."Smed! How much room you got on there? Can we hold….looks like six?"
Smedley was asked to move a specific group of people to a specific place. Even without an exchange of currency involved, he has an obligation to that contract and it's subtleties. Subtleties that include getting said people away from other people, even if those other people remain nameless outside of vague aliases.
Still.
Smedley visibly tenses as he watches the refugees not part of the group he was rendezvousing with rush toward the dock. He does a quick count of those already on board, or who are about to board. Five already below. Fedora, Young Guy, Scary Woman, and Miss Shotgun make nine. Ten, including himself.
Time to do passenger triage. And Young Guy is going to help. Great!
Smedley points to the woman holding the baby, then motions her forward. "Come on, people!" That could indicate all of them, or just those previously agreed to plus the woman and child - it's vague. But Smedley is gone from view, moving to the open hatch then and shouts down, his brow furrowed. "Budge up," he says with a curt sort of jerk of his head. "We're gonna be a little cramped."
"Another boat." Huruma's lips purse silently, eyes cast down onto Lucille after watching the new pair of runaways ushered along towards the boat. No use worrying Lucille, too. Huruma's hand finds her back, and Lucille is literally herded right into Jaiden's grasp. "Hurry." Her voice comes as more people round into view, and her eyes roam the ground to find them. Not everyone can be so lucky- and she can feel more coming. One hand tucks under her jacket as she backtracks with the surprise stragglers towards the dock.
The gesture is universal, and though she pulls one of her pistols out, she neither aims nor fires it, instead offering her free hand up in a quick motion; a beckoning for the six people coming closer. They had best hurry up too. The looters are at the edge of her field, and she would be saying something if the police were- one can presume that in helping the rest on the boat, it should be okay.
"I sure in the hell, hope so." Luc replies to Huruma as she runs to the boat. Because it makes no sense that Delia wouldn't be on the boat with them. "You," she says over her shoulder to Jaiden as she makes her way to the boat. "Have got some fucking explaining to do." And that's all there is too it. The bloodied and torn young woman stops her run and walks fast as she reaches the dock and then to the boat.
She looks over her shoulder at the sight of new people and the sound of sirens. "It's a fucking warzone out there." She growls out and winces as she climbs onto the boat. Going to stand next to her dad and checking her ammo in the shotgun. The young lioness takes a brief moment to relax and exhale before looking up towards the lion, "Sorry, I was late old man." And that's all they have time for right now.
For a moment, the small group of refugees looks worried. After all these people have guns, and could be as bad as the looters— but they also have a boat. The woman and her baby are the first to rush forward, followed a moment later by a rough looking man who looks like he just fell out of a bar somewhere— smells it too. But who could blame someone for sneaking a drink or two after the horrific night that they're having.
A Warzone is nearly an understatement.
"Thank you, thank you," the woman cries, as her baby makes soft wails against her shoulder, moving to disappear into the safety of the cabin.
It's then that Huruma feels a new spike of emotion. Taking on people, even in the haze of smoke and darkness— has attracted the attention of the mob. The men with baseball bats can be seen as dark sillouettes in the distance, as more people are helped up onto the boat.
Swinging the gun's strap onto his shoulder Ryans moves to where he can help others into the boat as they arrive. His large hands reach out to help each person into the boat, without a smile or greeting, only grim look of determination. He glances back at Smedley and after a moment of thought says, "I'll stay behind if we need, too." Getting Lucille and the families to safety is his priority.
"I'm sure I can find another way out there," eventually. Maybe. "Let's go people!" Ryans shouts, which means business.
His daughter gets a glance and an arch of a brow at the 'old man' comment, but instead he turns his attention to the approaching people. "Just leave Jaiden alone." Huh… odd. Didn't he want to throttle him earlier?
The water around the boat is surprisingly calm, but closer to shore the waves crash against the pilings driven deep into the bedrock of the river, surging forward, almost a warning to the baseball-bat-wielding rioters. Jaiden, being one of the last on the dock, starts to back toward the boat, watching the crowds gathering, his hands at his sides, fingers splayed as the water churns around him. He's moving as quickly as one can backwards, step by step, almost daring someone to charge, to throw something, to try and get on the boat that's already slightly overfilled.
He can get away in the water. He can make the boat go faster. He'll be exhausted afterward, but he can do it if he gets to the boat. He gets closer to the boat…ready to send a wave crashing over the rioters if they come, ready to sprint to the boat which is more than likely already in gear and ready to roar out.
Jaiden looks to Huruma, who is on the dock with him. "If they come, be ready to run."
The tense, tight-lipped expression that could be mistaken for a smile that Smedley gives Ryans is a thankful one. But when his daughter boards, it twists into a smirk. "If that's a twelve, I've got plenty'uh extra rounds for you." Looking past her, he adds to her old man - "If all y'all stay up top and help fend off the vultures, we 'oughta be all right. Might run a little slower, but I'll getcha there."
Once the last of the refugees are on the boat, Smedley lifts a hand to whistle - high and sharp. Carson barks in reply and starts in on the rope with new fervor with tooth and nail, and the knot is soon slipping against the post.
[OOC] Huruma says, "I just- I meant that part in yours where it says it in the meta, is all."
Though people can be scared of noise, and flashes, getting out fragmented rounds to scare off a bunch of rabble sounds like overkill. Huruma looks back to the boat as the last person climbs on board and the man running the getaway whistles. She looks then to Jaiden, wordless, and back towards where the figures are threatening to emerge through the dust and smoke. Her pistol arm lifts into the air, and at the same time that she pops off a single, barking shot into the sky, the empath also lets out a snarl behind her teeth, sending bolts of fear through whatever bodies she can make out.
She doesn't wait for a reaction to the warning, good or bad, instead whirling about to jump off the dock and latch onto the ladder on the side of the yacht and clamber up. Jaiden has the river on his side- he'll be okay.
Her body stiffens at her father's words and she literally facepalms. Hair blowing in the breeze. "Look, I know we don't have time for this.." she calls out to her father. "But I will put your ass to sleep, you are coming on this boat." Lucille didn't go through hell getting here just to watch her daddy stay behind. The Jaiden comment is ignored. For now.
"Seriously." She breathes out and she readies her shotgun, just waiting.. waiting.. waiting.. and waiting. Her neck pops as she twist it from side to side and then stares ahead at the rioters.
"It just so happens.. it is." Lucille says over her shoulder to Smedley. She's not going to turn down free ammo. That means she can keep a lot of the ammo in her backpack. Lu watches the Huruma and she waits for the Amazonian woman to board the ship. There's only one person that's missing from this picture.. Lucille's gaze narrows at the thought.
It's Huruma that keeps this from getting bad. That group of men had just began to run toward them, when suddenly the whole lot of them skids to a stop. It's not the gunshot that stops them, though— it's the fear. The fear that digs deeply past all their defenseves, burrowing beneath their flesh.
One of them starts to scream and suddenly there's another shot. This one not from Huruma's gun, but from one of theirs. It's stray and random, impacting a part of the dock as the man turns and runs away. They all will run eventually, but a few are frozen as the rope holding the boat onto the dock snaps under doggie teeth. With a bark of triumph, Carson leaps up onto the boat. Does he get a treat now?
The threats of his oldest are ignored as the rifle is brought up to Ryans' shoulder and he concentrates on aiming at the approaching looters, blue eyes narrowing dangerously. His finger curls against the trigger, waiting for the first of the rioters to make a deadly mistake, but it's lucky for them that Huruma's ability seems to hold them back.
"We're good!" Ben calls out for Smedley, taking a step back to brace himself for the movement of the boat. It's instinct from his early years in Vietnam, fighting off the enemy in a fast moving river boat.
The shot from Huruma causes Jaiden to flinch a little - high-caliber firearms going off in the general vicinity do that to a guy sometimes, but the shot that buries itself in the dock? That's a different matter. Not exactly knowing what Huruma is doing, or what her powers actually are works against the rioters rather badly, since, already stunned, a substantial wave rises out of the water on either side of the docks a good five or six feet up, like someone took the opposite shore and heaved, sending a massive torrent of water over the dock just out of range of Huruma and Jaiden. IF all goes well, those pursuing will be washed into the water and anyone thinking of following along will get more of the same. This does, however, cause Jaiden to pause slightly to concentrate on sending the water over, and only when the waves are moving under their own steam does he turn to sprint for the boat.
Now that's a sort of display that Smedley can't ignore. Even as he rushes into the carriage house to gun the engine and start away from the dock, he's keeping an eye on Jaiden. If the young man can do what it looks like he can do, they might not be in such a tight spot after all. But it does mean one less person to hold a gun. Unless he can multitask.
Once they're free of the dock, Smedley pauses, looking back toward Jaiden and hoping that he's right in his assumptions. He doesn't want to leave the man behind, but after a dip in the November waters, assuming he doesn't make the jump, might render him useless.
Huruma, he's not as concerned about - a woman like that can withstand a slight chill.
Huruma pulls herself up the ladder and onto the deck of the boat as Jaiden lays into the oncomers with a- wait a tick, that's a wave, right? Maybe she didn't really realize what he was fully doing, or maybe now she is able to get a better look when she comes down into a crouch near Benjamin, her pistol aimed over the edge of the boat. Not as useful as the rifle, but a precaution nonetheless.
"I didn'know he coul'do that." Huruma sounds far more curious than concerned. She knew something about water, Jaiden, somethingkinesis, and that was about all. "How many was that? Six? Seven?" Her head turns down to look past where she can see Lucille, towards the downward stairs.
Hefting her shotgun up, she's named her Lysandra. So pretty. Lucille keeps an eye on the people, it's no rifle but if she needs to. She'll shot a mofo, forealz. Or.. she can just watch Jaiden do his thang..?
"Well.. if that isn't a nifty trick." She breathes softly and looks up to Huruma. "I.. don't know." She's pretty stunned by the display of Jaiden's ability. She likes her ability.. but damn.
With the boat weighted down under extra passangers, it lurches along under the hydrokinetics assistance, pushed away from the dock at a higher speed than it might have been capable at under it's own power. Heavier in the water than would be recommended, it may not have lasted very long at all, if not for the assistance of the man who has mastery over that element.
Thou shall endure.
And they have. Even with the crying baby cramped down in the boat's emptied out cabin, even with all these strangers who don't know where they're going. The fire burns, bright spots illuminating small portions visible in the distance, while the smoke hazes every else.