Faith and Despondency


adam_icon.gif aude_icon.gif brian_icon.gif doyle_icon.gif peyton_icon.gif

Scene Title Faith and Despondency
Synopsis A hostage situation at St. Luke's Hospital gets ugly when Adam Monroe decides to pursue a target in the midst of negotiations. It's a very unlikely hero who saves the day.
Date July 30, 2009

St. Luke's Hospital

St. Luke's Hospital is known for its high-quality care and its contributions to medical research. Its staff place an emphasis on compassion for and sensitivity to the needs of their patients and the communities they serve. In addition to nearby Columbia University, the hospital collaborates with several community groups, churches, and programs at local high schools. The associated Roosevelt Hospital offers a special wing of rooms and suites with more amenities than the standard hospital environment; they wouldn't seem out of place in a top-rated hotel. That said, a hospital is a hospital — every corridor and room still smells faintly of antiseptic.

Spontaneous thundershowers are not unheard of in late July, and for many they offer blessed respite from the summer's heat. Rain patters against the windows of St. Luke's Hospital and flows through its gutters, filling many of the rooms with the smell of damp earth, wet leaves and the distant crackle of electricity. Lightning arcs have yet to appear on the horizon or in the gaps between New York's monolithic cityscape, but it's only a matter of time before the sky glows white with the storm's ambient energy.

Inside the hospital, business continues uninterrupted. The staff of St. Luke's are veterans of almost every weather phenomenon known to the Tri-State Region, including the Blizzard of 1996 that paralyzed the city with four feet of wind-driven snow. A little thunder is nothing to worry about.

Today was not a good day for Aude. Her car broke, taxi driver didn't have change. Coffee machine was broken, and her partner had called in sick. Her mood was as black as the thundershowers outside. Officer Aude Castalides had been called, Evo in the hospital, needed to be picked up and brought to the precinct so she could register. Some snotty society brat. Mind you, the doctor hadn't called her because of laws and such. Nope, different reason. So Aude in uniform, tie, belt with gun was waiting to the side, slightly impatient - stinking evo - While Peyton argued with the discharge orderly. Or something. How the hell was she supposed to know. She's just the personal police escort.

The rattle and squeak of ill-oiled wheels across the floor is not an unfamiliar sound to a hospital, though it's no gurney or medical equipment this time but a large, metal-edged and elaborately-painted trunk that's been searched by the security teams at least twice now. Of course, the trunk full of puppets is the least dangerous thing in the vicinity, the puppeteer himself being far more dangerous without any weapon other than free hands necessary to wreak havoc and worse.

This evening, however, Jason Tyminski - also known as Eric Doyle - has nothing more malevolent in mind than entertaining the children's ward with a charitably-offered puppet show. The bald, portly fellow is pushing the wheeled trunk along towards the elevators, shuffling his way behind it, an easy smile curving to his lips. Able, for once and for a brief moment, to forget the tragedy and horrors of his life - no few of which he's caused himself.

"Do I really need to be wheeled around? I mean, you're discharging me because I'm not an invalid, right?" Peyton says as an orderly pushes her through the halls in the wheelchair. "I'm not even sick. This is stupid." She takes out her anger at the situation on the orderly because she can't yell at the police officer who is apparently here to make her register. She does throw Officer Castalides a scowl as the woman waits. There's paperwork to fill out, insurance forms to sign, all the rigamarole of being discharged for a pointless night in the hospital. "Can I get up now?"

"Sorry, Ma'am, we have to bring you all the way to the curb," the orderly replies with a shrug. He's used to being maligned for the pointless rule.

Adam walks along the halls with Michael. They have just left a hospital room. Adam seems to be defending himself from Michael, "I rather thought a flower bouquet would be quite well recepted. I wanted to show I cared. You know, you are my man, I hope you get better." to which Michael sighs and shakes his head a moment, "Philly is allergic to flowers, you know that." Adam frowns, "How am I supposed to keep up with all these facts? There's just too much to consider."

Rain is flicked off his cap, before it's replaced squarely on his head. The rain almost fully dissuaded him from entering to check on the girl. But still, the girl has money. It's the least he could do to extend his sympathy for her. Besides every time he has seen this girl, she's falling over something. Dogs or drugs or otherwise. His feet stall as a certain officer of the law walks in front of him. Stooping down as he passes the waiting room a newspaper is grabbed. Reaching into his coat pocket, his sunglasses are retrieved and pushed over the bridge of his nose.

Pulling down his cap, he pops the collar of his jacket as he makes his way down the hall. Making sure he stays out of Aude's sight, Brian pauses as he catches sight of Peyton being pushed down the hall. With Aude accompanying her. Suddenly, Brian has second thoughts on this visit. He tucks himself next to a wall and unfolds the newspaper in front of his face. Casually.

"Rules are in place for a reason," Aude so casually chides the snot nosed society brat. Of course she wants out of the chair, the rules that govern the populace and for peoples safety aren't for her. Like not taking drugs, go figure. Aude doesn't bother to avoid Brian, or move out of his way. Her badge says she gets to go first. There's just a look thrown his way before she carry's on beside the wheelchair - temporarily - bound socialite.

From somewhere down the hall, in a room removed from the front lobby, there comes a loud bang that sounds vaguely like thunder but could only be mistaken for it if the person listening has never heard the report of a rifle. Most people in the lobby haven't, and although a few of them lift their heads and glance toward the source of the noise with curious eyes and inclined chins, no one appears to be panicking — yet.

Not even the woman tending to the admissions desk wears a fearful expression on her face, though there's plenty of concern creasing her brow and the crow's feet around her eyes as she removes her headset and rises from her seat, intent to investigate.

It's a sound that, oh yes, Eric Doyle is intimately familiar with. At the report of the rifle, his head jerks up sharply, a hint of sweat beading upon his brow as he looks down the hall in the direction of that sharp crack of sound. There's a low thunk as the truck's tipped back to stand on its own, and he takes a step closer to the elevator, reaching out one thick finger to jab at the 'up' button.

Then he jabs it a few more times. Damn it, why do these move so slow?

Peyton is about to make a snide remark to Aude about where she can put her rules, but the thundering sound has her head whirling toward the room it seems to come from. She glances out toward the windows, then back — she knows nothing about rifles, but she does know that sound didn't come from outside. "Yeah, no, you know what? Fuck rules," she says decisively and hops out of the wheelchair, to move away from that room and that sound and instead toward the front doors.

Adam continues to walk along with Michael, discussing the flowers. He shakes his head, "Who's allergic to flowers anyway? That's an absolutely stupid allergy." Michael follows, "Yeah…how dare he have something he can't control." Adam doesn't seem to pick up on the sarcasm, "Indeed." he pauses as he hears the rifle report. He's quite familiar with gunshots and he looks over his shoulder, "Did you hear that?" he frowns and rather than investigate, he motions for Michael to get closer to the elevator where, apparently, Eric Doyle is trying to get in. "Oh ho." he says as if there's not some ominous danger behind him.

Glancing over his newspaper he frowns at the report of the rifle. Allowing Aude to move past him, he turns his shoulder. Eyes going to Peyton as she starts her rebellious phase of life, Brian starts down that direction. Hell of a day to not bring a gun. A policy he will have to change. Guns even for hospital visits. His sneakers pad down the path behind Aude, his eyes downcast, hat tugged low. The rifle shots are not yet his business. And hopefully, they won't be.

A rifle? Aude's head snaps to the direction of where the sound came from, hand automatically lifting to her radio, the other to her belt and gun. "Ma'am, stay where you are. For your safety please." Her milky chocolate hand rising and indicating a corner where Peyton is told to go. Sit. Wait. "Dispatch, this is badge 3874. I have a 10 dash 108 at St. Lukes. Possible 11 dash 6." Officer needs assistance, possible discharge of firearms. "On main floor, please advise." And then she's moving towards the rifle shot, safety still on. "Please remain calm, please remain in the room you are in ladies and gentleman." To those who are possibly looking agitated.

The light above the elevator blinks between floors at a pace only treacle could rival. It may be another minute or two before it reaches the ground level. Until then, Doyle is stuck with uncertainty and the looming presence of Adam Monroe several feet beside him.

There are no security officers in the lobby to reinforce Aude's instructions — fortunately, most of the men and women seated against the walls and on the cushioned benches that comprise the hospital's waiting area aren't about to disobey a direct order from law enforcement. The woman behind the desk, too, sinks back into her chair.

It's impossible for Aude to pinpoint the rifle's source by a single shot alone, but the flood of people rushing down the hall toward her when she turns the nearest corner is probably a good indication that the disturbance is somewhere that way.

Two more shots go off, one right after another. Somewhere, someone is screaming.

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon… As the elevator light's pauses above the metal-fronted doors of the elevator, Doyle's eyes roll upwards towards the display to regard it with a look somewhere between angered and desperate, one hand lifting to wipe a bit more sweat from his brow as the stampede of feet from that side of the hospital begins to head their way. Then a familiar voice stirs behind him, and he looks back over his shoulder, brow furrowing into thin lines and his lips pursing in a scowl.

"Adam. Should I even ask if this is something you're up to, or should I just assume it?"

With a roll of her eyes and a flip of her hair, Peyton flounces over to the seat in the corner that Aude directs her too. But then people begin coming around the corner looking like they're panicking. "Look, officer, maybe I should just … make an appointment to register," Peyton says, getting up again. After all, if there's a gunman inside, wouldn't it be better to be outside? Unless that's what they want. That little thought has Peyton hesitating, halfway between sitting and standing.

Despite the chaos that appears to be occurring around him, Adam remains relaxed and thoughtful, "I think there's a problem with attributing all acts to a single source." he looks over Eric's shoulder, "Perhaps you ought to wait to see what's happening. After all, this looks like it's going to be interesting." he kicks the trunk a bit, "What's this all about?"

Fact: The phrase remain calm never inspires calm. Brian flicks his newspaper on the table. Turning his back to Aude, he takes a few steps towards the hall. Looking through the oncoming crowd he gives a light sigh. No gun, no business here. Yet he still feels compelled to go down there. A scream. Fine. Is muttered to his conscience.

Swinging one last look back at Aude, Brian picks up his pace before starting a jog down the hallway. His hat is given one final tug down as his jog breaks into a run, going against the grain he weaves his way through the crowd.

"Three shots fired, Send backup." And with that, and chatter across the radio Aude is quick in Brian's heels. "Move." Muttered to people as she goes, hand resting on her holstered but unclipped weapon. She's not going to take it out quite yet. "Sir, please go the other way." This to Brian. "Go away from the fired shots Sir." It's authoritative and using the full of her voice when she needs people to pay attention and do as she says. Forget that everyone is more or less taller than her. But that's all the warning he'll get as she wades through the fleeing people and trying to get a glimpse if she can.

As Brian and Aude move through the crowd, their journey is strangely reminiscent of two salmon struggling upstream. As strong as the current is, they persevere — even if it means jostling a few of clumsier people along the way. Toward the end of the hall, the crowd thins out where the hospital's emergency room is situated. A fine sprinkling of glass litters the linoleum floors, crunching under their feet as they make their approach. The doors to the emergency room itself are barricaded shut from the inside while the remains of a shattered fluorescent lamp swing haphazardly from the ceiling above, held together by a length of frayed wire.

Back in the lobby, colour floods Peyton's vision as her surroundings appear to melt away like paint dribbling down a sodden canvas. The next time she blinks, she appears to find herself in a large room with whitewashed walls spattered with what looks like blood. All around her are people, some bent on their knees with their hands placed on their heads, others sprawled out on their stomachs. In reality, she hasn't budged an inch from where she was waffling between the seat and her feet. The clairvoyant thing. It's happening again.

"My name is Jasper Garrison!" a voice shouts through the emergency rooms doors. "I want to speak with the Dean of Medicine!"

The impact of the shoe against the trunk's edge causes Doyle's features to twitch as he flinches, one hand closing over the handle on the top of the truck to pull it back closer to him, wheels squeaking a bit on the well-waxed flooring beside the elevator. "Careful," he hisses out, slanting a protective glare at Adam, "Those are fragile. Do you have any idea how long it takes to carv— "

Then there's that shout through the doors from the emergency room, and he turns his head in that direction, his lips pulling into a thin line. "Oh. Great." A roll of his eyes, "Him."

As her surroundings fade away, so does the color from Peyton's face. One shaking hand goes up to her mouth, and she swallows hard to avoid a repeat of last night on the clean hospital linoleum. "Oh, my God, he's killed someone," the young woman gasps, taking a blind step back which dumps her back into the seat behind her. She can't see her surroundings, and her eyes are wide and dilated. "There's blood… he's holding them hostage…" This is all said to no one in particular; hell, she doesn't even know if anyone's still sitting nearby, though she can hear the men speaking at the elevator. She just can't see them.

Adam doesn't seem to be particularly worried about the price of Doyle's puppets, but he does stop kicking the trunk. When he hears the shouting and then Doyle looks over in some sort of recognition, he himself turns in the direction. "Who's he?" Michael serruptiously moves behind Adam and shrugs, "I dunno."

Glancing over at Aude and wishing that he would have brought his HomeSec badge he gives a grunt. Turning his back to her he goes to follow the rest of the crowd away from the Emergency Room. Barricaded. He's going to need some help. Walking briskly back towards the waiting room his wallet is produced. A card for a chinese restauraunt is pulled out.

Walking to the nurse's station the card is flashed for the briefest of seconds before it's put away. "I'm with the cops." Brian says in an authoritative voice. "We have a hostage situation, I need to know where your supply closet is. Or.. the laundry." Brian manages.

Aude gets a good look at Brian when he turns around past her. The guy responsible for the black eyes that she has and the broken nose. "For fucks sake, not you." The cop, the cop with a real badge, says with a glare towards the departing Brian. Then her attention towards the man in the barricaded emergency department. "Sir, I will see about contacting the dean of Medicine, if you would please put your weapon down and unlock the doors." Where that damned scout who can talk down anyone when you need her?

Obviously not here. Damned Evo.

The nurse gives Brian an incredulous look tempered by fright. Things are happening so fast that she's not sure what she saw, but logic dictates that no sane man would attempt to pass off a card belonging to the Gourmet Express for special identification issued to law enforcement personnel. This is what we call giving someone the benefit of the doubt. She raises her arm and points down an adjacent hall. "Third door to the left." There's a lengthy pause. "Sir."

Inside the emergency room, Garrison — if that's his real name, and Doyle's reaction to it suggests that it is — points his rifle at the barricaded doors. As he squeezes off a warning shot at Aude through the wood, spraying the hall outside with a shower of splinters, Peyton may realize that she's viewing the scene through the gunman's eyes. The bullet ricochets harmlessly away and bounces off a nearby gurney. "If the Dean of Medicine isn't down here in five, I start executing hostages, so don't you fucking blow me off."

"Maybe I should go talk to him," Doyle muses under his breath, one hand lifting to scratch against the stubble shadowing the fleshy curve of his double chin before it falls down to his side. The portly puppeteer leans out a bit from the elevator to peer out into the hallway, leaning back and slanting a look to Adam, "He's an old friend. Well, acquaintance." Pause. "Well. Inmate. Actually, he probably wouldn't want to talk to me, maybe I should just go upstairs— "

"I don't want to see, I don't want to see this," Peyton cries out, rubbing her eyes. There, that helps. Closing her eyes, she can't see what's going on. It's better that way. She opens them again, hoping to see the lobby once more, but she's still looking through the gunman's eyes. "How do I turn it off?" The power, of course. Distance, maybe. She gets up again, trying to move away from the seat, reach the doors to the street. Her hands move out in front of her like a blind person's — for all intents and purposes, she is, as the scene of that splintered door and the cowering hostages is no use to her voyage across the lobby. Three steps before she crashes into the coffee table. At least it wasn't made of glass.

Adam considers Eric's past with the apparent gunman, then he glances as Brian rushes in and starts to talk about needing a closet. He nods to Michael to follow and says to Doyle, "I hope you'll stay here, Eric. I'd like to talk." but then he goes off, quietly shadowing Brian's movements while he leaves Doyle to…well, disappear or go talk to the gunman.

"Thank you. Begin ushering everyone out. And.." He takes a step away. "Make sure you order from Gourmet Express." Glancing back at Peyton, Brian frowns deeply. This girl is always falling down. And this time he feels obliged to help her. Taking a few steps forward, Brian stoops down to secure Peyton by the arm. Pulling her close to him, he goes to throw his other arm around her waist. Walking quickly down the hallway, practically grabbing Peyton, he darts a look over his shoulder as he heads towards his destination. His hand settles on the door as he shoulders it open. "Stay with me." He murmurs softly to Peyton.

And she's being fired at. Aude ducks and covers, finding a spot to hunker down, hopefully near someone who works here and can get the dean on a phone line into the emergency department. "Why do you need the Dean sir!" Aude's voice is loud, making sure she's talking loud enough to be heard by him. The next part, not so much. The radio is tilted towards her mouth when she hears a request for a status update. "Hostage situation in the emergency department. A mister Jasper Garrison. Wants to talk to the Dean of Medicine in five minutes or he will start eliminating hostages. Already shot at me."

"We are contacting him for you Mr. Garrison. Please be patient with us. Until then, can you tell me what you need and want, besides the Dean?"

Garrison chokes out a bark of laughter from the other side of the door and glances through the hole in the door in search of Aude's huddled figure. Seeing nothing except an empty hallway, he retreats several steps as his empty magazine clatters to the floor and he inserts a fresh clip. "I want a healer for my daughter," he says, enunciating his words very clearly in spite of his quavering voice. "I know you have them here. Seen it on the news."

Back in the lobby, the nurse behind the desk takes Brian's advice to heart and begins clearing people out the front doors, into the rain. The sound of encroaching sirens cuts through the chatter, though they're still several blocks off yet. Aude will have to wait just a little bit longer before backup arrives.

"Four minutes," Garrison adds.


The elevator's door opens, an inviting interior of faux-wood paneled walls and panel dotted with luminous buttons that need only be touched to lead the way up. Doyle gives it a longing look, then turns back towards the hall— then back, then again, and finally he makes a frustrated sound under his breath and steps out from the elevator's area. Perhaps it was the shouting from the emergency room that caught his attention. The trunk's wrestled back onto its wheels, and he pushes it out to head towards the mostly-abandoned area near the barricaded doors, calling over hopefully, "Adam." He knows why. Not that Adam Monroe has ever been inclined to charity, really, except when it suited him.

"I— he's reloading," Peyton whispers. "Where are we going? I don't want to go near him, I don't want to … I can see his hands… I can see… I'm looking through his eyes," she finally speaks aloud the realization that's been trying to make its way to her brain. Her fingers grip Brian's arm, though her feet seem uncertain if they want to move. They're in ridiculous heels, since her club clothes were the only clothes she had with her, having spent the night in the hospital. She stumbles along anyway. "Where are you bringing me… who are you? I can't see you!" Peyton wails, tears streaming out of her dilated eyes.

Adam walked away from Doyle a little bit ago and slips quietly along corners of hallways until he reaches the corner to where Brian is trying to get into the door. Michael pulls out a taser, Adam pulls out a trusty tranq gun. A trusty tranq gun he stole from Brian's girlfriend, not that Adam knows the irony of all that. He waits for Brian to go into the closet and when his name is called, he waves a hand as if to say 'Wait a minute' and then, assuming Brian goes in, Adam and Michael march into action, sliding against either side of the door, waiting for Brian to come out.

"You're okay." Brian says in a soothing voice. She can't see him, that's going to make the next part easier. "Just tell me everything he does. I'm going to keep you safe. Don't worry. You just need to trust me that I'm going to take care of you." And then the two slide into the large supplies closet. Closing the door hastily, Brian goes to lean against the wall. "I'm going to let you rest against the wall for a moment, okay, I'm still here. We're going to get through this."

And with that he's going to work. Fire extinguisher. Gurney. And.. scrubs. Soon there are more than one Brian in the room. Suiting up. And soon there are two surgeons, complete with masks and doo-rags. Brian picks up a mop before going back to Peyton's side. "I need you to get on the stretcher, okay honey?" Honey. It's all he can think of, but he's helping her into it anyway. "What's happening now?"

Aude looks over to a Hospital worker. Well? Gonna volunteer the information for her? "I'm asking right now, sir. I think I remember hearing about one, but… I don't think she's on staff, I think they call her in. So that will be more than 4 minutes. Tell me about your daughter sir while the nurse here tries to get someone who knows."

The nearest hospital worker, similarly huddled behind a piece of equipment that was abandoned in transit when the first shot was fired, gives Aude a quick nod and begins crawling back toward the lobby on all fours to relay this piece of information to the nurse behind the desk. He passes Doyle along the way, and tips a glance sidelong in the portly man's direction, saying nothing.

"The fuck do you care about my daughter?" Garrison asks as he paces the length of the emergency room, weaving between hostages like a caged tiger through a rut in its enclosure. He glances toward the a cluster of overturned chairs, and Peyton can see the corpse of a young woman who can't be much older than she is, her blonde hair clumped with blood and discoloured chunks of brain matter. "The last time we were here, you told us she'd be more comfortable at home. Bullshit you people can't treat her. Bullshit."

"Adam!" The name is a flat demand as it falls from Eric Doyle's lips, though whether or not the man breaks away from his planned ambush… the puppeteer pushes the trunk along down the hallway in the direction of the emergency room doors, his lips turned down at the corners and his heavy-lidded gaze serious and unhappy. As a hospital worker crawls past him, he ignores the man, heading towards the barricaded doors, and Aude, with a squeak of the trunk's wheels. It doubles as cover!

Peyton stands against the wall until Brian gets her to move on the gurney. "Wait… wait… are you getting us closer to that mess?" she says, grabbing his arm. "He's… talking to that cop I think, I can't hear him, I can only see… and pacing. Like a tiger. There's lots of people in there, all on the ground. Oh, God, her head… someone was shot in the head…" Tears well up in her dilated eyes and spill over her cheeks as she covers her eyes again for a moment's respite from the bloody room. She takes a deep breath and lifts her hands again, staring straight up at the ceiling once more. "I should warn you. I don't know how it works. If I could turn it off, I would, but I just — it just — started." She sobs at that. Is this what it means to be Evo? Seeing other people's nightmares?

Adam ignores Eric. He's on a rather different trip. He glances at Michael and says, "If anyone comes out, tase them." and with that, he kicks in the door and immediately aims for the first person he sees standing, which would appear to be the Brian behind the gurney. The appearance of a second man is curious, but at the moment, he just wants to put any threats down and immediately shoots out at him. Peyton doesn't get fired at, because frankly, she trips over dogs. He leans back against the other side of the door and takes out an actual gun. He didn't want to use it, but he isn't sure if he hit both his targets.

"Calm down. Listen. What else is happening? He's alone? I need you to control yourself. I know how hard this is. But if people are dying we have to help them. We have to. So I need you to be brave, alright? Be brave for me."

The door is kicked in, and Brian immediately throws Peyton to the side. Turning quickly the man goes to grab the end of the gurney. One of the surgeons grabs the fire extinguisher, while the other surgeon takes a dart to the neck. A cut off "Fuc—" Is let out before he crumples against the wall, struggling to keep ahold of conciousness. The dart is pulled out roughly, as he lays in a heap. A groan is let out. Brian heaves the gurney up on end, effectively blocking the door. The fire extinguisher is yanked out and a jet of creamy white is unleashed out at Adam's face. Shoving his shoulder at the back of the gurney, he looks down at the downed surgeon-Brian.

"I'm here talking to you sir, and I am doing my best to see if they can find that healer that you heard about. I'm asking so that we know what exactly the healer will be dealing with when we find her, or him." This is why she hates the evo. Really. This is the second time for a hostage situation all because of an evo healer. Fabulous. God damned Evo's. Life was simpler before then. Know what she needed? She needed those tranq guns that the homeland agents all carried. One shot and he'd be down. One shot and Aude's life would be easier.

Much Easier.

But instead she's pinned behind a desk with a guy bearing a shotgun. "But like I said Mr. Garrison, the odds of the healer getting here within 3 minutes is slim to none. So, till they get her, what can I do, to help you, as a mundane and not an evo healer?" The squeaky wheels catch her attention and Aude can barely contain her fury. What the hell. What. The. Hell. Another person trying to play fucking hero of the hour. God almighty, baby Jesus in a manger, what else could happen here?

Garrison shows no outwards sign of calming down. If anything, his behaviour is gradually becoming more and more restless as the clock on the wall continues to tick, counting away the seconds. His eyes move between the minute hand and the hole in the door as if expecting Aude to make an appearance and shoot at him, but when that doesn't happen he drops down to a crouch in the middle of the emergency room and looks down at the floor. Footprints track blood across the linoleum, and it's only then that both he and Peyton will realize that his shoes are covered in it.

"Don't bring the healer here," he hisses at Aude from his squat, chin lifting when the sound of squeaky wheels eventually reaches his ears. As his eyes narrow, Peyton's field of view becomes squinty and limited. "… I'll give you my wife's address."

"Pardon me, officer?" In the face of that angry look back in his direction, Doyle pauses— a safe ten feet from the cover the policewoman's using, putting on his most disingenuous smile with a hooded gaze and gesturing back towards the main area, "But there happens to be an… evolved healer back in the lobby right now. Adam Monroe? Maybe he can help you?" Meaty shoulders roll in a careless sort of shrug, his head tilting a bit to try and see if he can catch sight of the man through that hole in the door. Probably not.

Peyton cries out as Adam shoots the tranq gun, not understanding what the strange sounds are, or why she's being dumped to the floor. None of the sounds make sense, but she crouches down in the corner of the small supply room, arms wrapping around her knees and pulling them to her chest protectively. She sobs for breath, hyperventilating with fear from both the sounds she cannot comprehend in the room she cannot see and from the sights of the soundless room she's somehow viewing from a madman's eyes. "He's getting more nervous," she whispers, unsure if there's even anyone to listen to her, unsure if Brian is still protecting her or not.

When the spray of gas hits his right ear, Adam reflexively ducks to his left. He frowns at the spray, but it does tell him something. No weapons. He motions to Michael to take out his gun, take a breath and then slides out in front of the gurny. He jams his foot under the wheel, risking pain and a broken foot, but this is Adam. He points his gun out and says, "Yield or die." to Brian. Michael keeps his position on the other

Brian's never going anywhere without a gun, ever again. "Fuck you." Brian responds angrily to the 'Yield or die.' Comment. The surgeon and the regular Brian put both of all their power and weight into powerfully flinging the gurney at Adam to push him away from the door. At least for now. Then the door is slammed shut immediately, the mop being slid through the handle against the door.

Grabbing at Peyton's arm he goes to yank her to her feet. "Okay. New plans. He's getting more nervous? What else is happening." Wrapping his arms around her, in what he means to be a soothing hold, yet still controlling he goes to drag her into the corner away from the door. Meanwhile Brian climbs the shelves of the supply racks, searching desperately for a ventilation shaft or something.

Right. Because, you know, being here with your sick daughter and demanding that you get a healer means of course that the healer HAS to go to a completely different location. Idly, there's a thought as to whether she could get away with shooting him. Yes? No? No. Maybe.

Possibly. But she's already got one shooting on her record.

But Mr. Hero is… holy shit, say what?! Healer in the lo… Adam Monroe. Why does that name niggle at her. There's quite suddenly a grateful look from Aude. "Mr. Garrison, We may have someone already present here. Let me see about getting them sent to your family and how they work their healing" And like that, Aude's dashing from her hiding spot, praying that Garrison doesn't opt to fill her with lead as she goes to find this Adam Monroe.

When responding to a crime in progress, some police officers act first and think later. With only the information that dispatch has given them to go off of, four uniformed men explode through the lobby doors with their weapons drawn. Unfortunately for their fellow officer who was holding Garrison down by the ER, the first hallway they intersect is not the one that Aude and Doyle are occupying.

It's the hall in which Adam and Michael have Brian and Peyton trapped in the supply closet. To their credit, they don't immediately open fire when they see that both he and his bodyguard are armed. "Put down your weapon!" one of them snarls as he rapidly approaches, booted feet leaving dark scuffs on the freshly-waxed floor in his wake. "Put down your weapon and get on the ground!"

Back by the emergency room doors, Garrison pokes his head up to see if he can catch a glimpse of Aude's retreating figure around the same time Doyle is checking to see if he can get a visual on his friend— acquaintance— whichever. "Eric?" Dark brown eyes blink owlishly. "Eric Doyle?"

The officer's sprint is watched as she heads along down the hallway in search of a man who - likely - is not going to be very helpful. Then Eric Doyle turns back towards the doors as the man looks out through the opening of the door to find another who once walked the halls of Moab Penitentiary.

"Hello, Jasper." The truck's wheels squeak lightly as the puppeteer pushes it towards the doors, observing dryly, "Are you going to let me in? I mean— " He chuckles under his breath, "— it's only polite."

"I don't know - the officer left and there's… the guy who was by the elevator, the big guy with the trunk? He's looking at him now, I don't know why. What are you doing?" Peyton asks, then tilts her head up as Brian climbs on the racks. But suddenly there's yelling outside in the hallway, someone being ordered to put down their weapons. "What's going on — how many gun men are there? I thought it was just one!" she hisses. At least she has the sense to keep her voice down. She winces and puts her hands to her temples. "God, tell me this is a bad dream. I'll never do drugs again if it's all just a dream…"

Adam points to Michael to get through the door. Michael starts by targeting the knob with is gun. He's about to shoot when both he and Adam are startled by the po-lice. Adam pauses and turns to the four men, arching a brow. Michael looks up and asks, "Adam?" Adam shrugs and moves in front of Michael. Adam reaches into his coat and pulls out a HomeSec badge. If the officers get too close, they will be quite certain that Adam is not named Veronica, but he says, "Home Sec business. There's a dangerous evolved in here.." the motions towards the ER, "And there. Either get out of my way or I'll have your badges." But his gun is still out. And believe you me, Adam Monroe will fire. He turns to Michael and says, "Do it." Michael, more loyal than smart, does so. He fires a few shots into the door knob and starts kicking in the weakened door.

"Calm down. Calm down. I'm going to get you out of here. But this recent decision to abandon drugs is a great idea." Brian claims as he holds her to his chest. Surgeon-Brian has found the air vent and has put all his weight into yanking off the cover. Though in ripping off the cover, the surgeon Brian falls off the shelves onto the ground. And that's when he hears, 'Home Sec Business.' "Fuck." He whispers to himself. Shoving himself to his feet, Brian immediately goes back to climbing the shelves. The other Brian ushers Peyton forward and lifts her to his copy. "You need to climb in here. Watch your head. I'll be right behind you. Just start crawling." With that Brian is practically shoving Peyton into the airvent. "But you need to hurry, okay?" Brian urges, gently.

Brian looks concerned at the door as it is being kicked in. Grabbing a broom, it's also shoved into the door handle alongside the mop. A little extra reinforcement until Brian jumps onto the shelves as well. Reaching up he grabs surgeon Brian's hand and immediately vanishes. His clothes landing in a heap on the ground. Surgeon Brian then crawls into the airvent after Peyton.

"I'm looking for an Adam Monroe!" Aude calls out, gun out and pointed down, moving swiftly through the hall and into the lobby. A glance back see's Doyle still in his position she left him. "I'm looking for an Adam Monroe. I need to speak with him immediately."

Garrison shoots back to his feet and points the rifle through the hole in the door at Doyle in response. He left his politeness on the curb outside St. Luke's parked right beside his 2005 Toyota Highlander. "The hell I am," he says, and yet he does not pull the trigger. Inside, Doyle can hear one of the hostages crying, her breaths coming short and hard as she struggles to keep from making any noise that might attract Garrison's attention. "They send you here to bring me back?"

Although a similar trick might have worked with a business card and a distraught nurse, the men that Adam is attempting to fool are trained professionals with plenty of field experience. Of the four officers, three stand down, looking to Aude while the third continues moving toward Adam with his weapon trained on the blond man's head. One hand drops away from his pistol, reaching for the badge.

Hey, he tried. Eric's meaty shoulders rise and then fall as he exhales a weighty sigh, his hand coming up slightly towards the door in a strange gesture— pointer finger pulling back from the rest of his hand, he pulls his arm back a bit, the barrel of the rifle sliding back and out of view. Up, up his hand tilts, until on the other side of the door, the barrel presses beneath a chin.

"No," he says in droll tones, "They didn't." Unseen strings of his power coil about the man, through muscles, through his endocrine system to keep his power in check. "What's the address, Jasper? Maybe…" A bright smile, "…maybe I can help."

Peyton manages to do what Brian says, but mostly because she's pushed and pulled into doing so. She begins crawling — no idea where she is or what's in front of her as she continues to see the madman's perspective. "He's pointing his gun at the other guy… Oh, my God. I don't … I don't know what's happening. The guy, his hand moved and the gunman, he's pulling the rifle away and… up? I can't see it anymore…" Her voice is growing hoarse from crying, whispering, and sobbing.

Michael finally busts through the door and aims his gun at an empty room. He has only a second to register the air vent when he says with a frown, "Wait…that's just a movie thing…" but shakes his head when he sees the clothes that Brian originally had and picks them up and starts out, he's about to tell Adam when he sees Adam suddenly bring his gun hand up, pushing the officer's gun upwards while the hand he's reaches for comes in a side swing and cuffs him in the throat. There may be a gun shot, there may not, either way Adam yells, "Time to go!" then follows it up with, "ADAM MONROE IS THE GUY IN THE RED." and grabs Michael and starts running through the hall.

Pushing and pulling Peyton as necessary, Brian clambers through the airvent. At points on top of the woman but finally he manages to kick open an airvent. Growling in pain as the cover flies off. His foot starts to bleed as.. He put scrubs on, there were no extra shoes in the supply closet. Reaching back he grabs Peyton's arms and starts to drag her towards the exit. He pauses though. The gun is raising she can't see. He has a vague idea, he could probably teach her, train her. But.. there's not enough time in the airvent. "Close your eyes." He says, hoping that somehow turns it off.

Practically falling out of the shaft, barefoot Surgeon lands in an open office. The desk is shoved against the wall so that Brian can stand up on it and more easily deliver Peyton out of it.

Adam Monroe is the guy in the red, which means.. what the fuck, TWO situations. Then there's an officer being attacked. "NYPD! Stop sir!" Aude yells. But he's cuffing the cop in the throat and then running. Fucking cop killer! God damned fucking cop killers! There's nothing between her and him, thank the good lord above and lifting her gun, it barks twice in rapid succession. Bullets going for Adam and sighted for his head. Great, and while they're here, there's a guy who will be shooting people in the ER! Goodbye badge. She's sure of it.

Garrison makes a low sound in his throat, halfway between a groan and a snarl. He swallows, throat bulging against the barrel of the rifle as its barrel dimples the fleshy underside of his chin. "Why?" he asks in a strangled voice growing shrill with desperation. "So you can lock them away, too? Fuck you, Doyle. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on." Snot glistens on his upper lip, clinging to the fine hairs of his salt-and-pepper mustache. He spits. "How could you help them? After what they did to us?"

The leading officer goes down to his knees, clutching at his throat with one hand, the other shoved out in front of him in an attempt to break his fall. It doesn't work. His elbow buckles under the weight and his shoulder hits the ground with enough force to dislocate it and send pain lancing through his torso. The other three officers follow Aude's lead and unleash a volley of gunfire at Adam's retreating back. Bullets spatter across his shoulder blades and flanks. Some pass straight through while others wedge between sinewy cords of muscle and bone, causing blossoms of dark red to bloom and spread. Michael is unlucky enough to catch a bullet to the thigh but keeps on running, trailing blood in his staggering wake.

The sound of gunfire behind him brings that smile up a bit at one corner of Doyle's lips. If there's one thing that Adam can be counted on for, it's to foment chaos… and he's always had a problem with authority figures. One hand lifts, then, rubbing to the side of his face even as the other remains in position, an echo of Garrison's own hand where it holds the weapon an inch from his own death.

"I'm not," he mutters, fingers falling from the press of his face, "Do you think I'm not on the run too, Garrison? I was trying to help you, but you're being— stubborn. And you're not leaving me many choices here, you know."

The new clairvoyant tries to keep her eyes closed, but it's not natural. They open again as he pulls her down from the air vent. "Are you okay?" she asks, patting his face with a blind hand. Those dark eyes are still dilated, wide and unseeing. "They're still talking," she says quietly. "All that shooting — it wasn't him. The police in the hall maybe?" She frowns. The men who were after them. Why were they after them?

Michael is hit and skids along the hall and crawls around the corner quickly. Meanwhile, Adam plays human shield, because he kind of is. The gunshots serve mainly to throw him off balance. But as bullets wiz through him, the wounds heal instantly. Some bullets find themselves buried for a second before they start to pop out on their own, ejecting themselves with about the distance of a good spit. One of Aude's head shots misses, but the other hits him in the ear, tearing it off and drawing a yelp from Adam. But one of the last things Aude and perhaps the firing officers see, is the ear regrowing as he disappears around the corner.

Bringing her down from the desk, Brian lands softly on the ground. Basically cradling her against his chest he frowns deeply. Feeling some odd obligation to do something about the ER situation, he finds himself vastly unequipped. Even though he has more of himself on the way. These ones more equipped, as it is, he's naked under a set of scrubs, a surgeon mask and a dorag.

Carrying Peyton towards the door, he gives a nod that she can't see. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me." Reaching out he grabs the door and leans out, peeking out in the hall, just his neck and head. "Can you walk, again?"

"Holy fuck!" Adam Monroe isn't stopping. That has to be Adam Monroe. Her gun still up, she sights again, firing just as he skips around the corner. "Fuck" She pulls back to a corner herself, peering towards the other hallway. "God damnit" One hand comes down from her gun to hit her radio. "Castalides. We have two incidents. Hostage situation and a separate incident. Two men, one evolved, healing himself after we plugged him with bullets. Get…" God, she cannot believe she's saying it and it galls her. "We need SCOUT here." There's a glance to the other officers. "He's the fucking healer I need for the hostage situation. Fabulous" and with that, she's going to leave the officers to deal with Adam and goon and makes her way back towards the hostage hallway.

"Mr. Garrison! I can't get you the healer here." She calls down, announcing her returning presence. "He decided too try and kill some officers. But we're working on getting another one, the original one."

Garrison doesn't trust Doyle, but he doesn't trust the Dean of Medicine or Officer Aude Castilides either. When you have a gun pointed at your head, however, you don't have much of a choice except to — in Adam's own words — yield or die. "Two-Fifty West," he breathes out, "Forty-Ninth Street. Second floor. Ask for Anna. My little girl— Faith—"

At the sound of Aude's voice, he flinches and has to assume that Doyle is telling the truth. "This was a mistake," he says in a low, rasping voice that only Doyle can hear. "I never meant to hurt anybody, man. It just— happened. Nobody was supposed to run, nobody was supposed to— " Garrison lets out a hiss of air through his front teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. "Shit," he says. "Shit. You can't let them take me back there, Doyle. Fucking do it but don't let them take me back there—"

At the call from down the hall, Doyle turns slowly to look back over his shoulder, then back towards the door; showing rather little emotion at the moment, eyes wide but the rest of his face mostly slack as he focuses more upon the other man's body than his own, brows arching just a bit though he can't really be seen.

"I won't, Jasper," he says calmly, "I'm not a monster, after all."

A finger curls in his hand, which then drops to one side. And another - and final - rifle report echoes in the emergency room.

Peyton clings to Brian but nods — she can walk. But suddenly it's dark as the man whose vision she is sharing scrunches his eyes closed. She can neither see his surroundings or her own — it's just black. "I … I don't know what's happening, I can't see…" and then suddenly her vision floods back, the office with Brian peeking out the door. She gasps and brings her hands to her head. "Oh, God. My head. I can see you… he… he might be dead, I think." Her face is pale.

Tugging down the surgeon's mask from his face. He looks at her, allowing her to see that he is the same man. Yet now in scrubs. And no shoes. Pulling back up the mask, he goes to grab her by the hand. "I'm getting you out of here." Winters assures her. "I have a safe place for you to go. I can teach you how to control that." He says, opening the door fully. Going to grab Peyton's hand, he pulls her to his side. "Come on. Pull it together for another couple of minutes alright? Come on." Tugging the girl out into hallway, Brian starts his dramatic exit. The shooter is dead. Good. He guesses. Hopefully he didn't kill many others.

Adam prevented him from helping. At first it was a telepath, and then he greeted Adam's girl in a very polite manner. And this is how he is rewarded for acting civil? He doesn't know what the immortal wants. But soon, Brian will have to pay him a visit. And he might not be so kind, this time.

"Come on." Brian says one more time, pulling Peyton gruffly on his way to the exit.

He's dead. Ohhhh yeah, he's dead. Aude didn't even have a chance to tell him anything more before there's grey matter and blood everywhere in the Emergency department. The petite dark skinned officer's mouth hangs open. To Doyle she looks, then back to Jasper, uncomprehending that the man just took his own life. What about his daughter. "Sir, get back with the rest of the people. Please wait for an officer to speak with you" This to Doyle.

The rest, is Aude creeping forward, gun up, careful of the possibility of him maybe being alive. "Mr. Garrison?" No answer obviously. She works the door open, giving his leg a nudge with her foot before she winds up eventually crouched over him with one hand on the gun, other taking a pulse. There's a grim line to her lips as she abandons him and heads for his victims.

This has not been a good day for Officer Castalides and she's ready for it to be over.

"O-of course," stammers the puppeteer as his puppet drops, cut from unseen strings, stumbling back a startled step before reaching over to fumble for the handle upon his trunk. It's gripped, and he twists it around to push back down the hallway towards the chaos of the lobby, moving with a certain urgency. Once his face is away from Aude, the shocked look fades, replaced with something that's rather more— resigned, his head shaking to himself, the faintest of smiles curving his lips thoughtfully as he moves back towards the lobby.

The thought of having to go back out into the lobby, near that hallway, to find Officer Castalides is not inviting — even if Peyton has no idea who this guy is or if she should really lay her trust in his hands — it seems he has her best interest in mind, as she's still alive, however. "I … you know how to control it?" she asks, letting him lead her away as she looks up at him with bloodshot eyes. "That officer, she was going to take me to register." Her voice trembles. "But they know my name. They know who I am."

"Then we'll have to hide you." Odd that Brian has been ending peoples normal lives lately. Thrusting them into something different and wild. But it's hardly his fault, is it? Maybe it is. Turning around, Brian leads Peyton towards the back. Surely they'll let him out, right? He's a surgeon! "Yes I can teach you how to control it. But first we have to get out of here…"

Blood, everywhere. Soaking into Aude's clothes as she kneels to one knee to check the pulse of the woman shot by Jasper. No luck, she's dead. This is when the rest of the back up comes in. With people sneaking off, others, parking in the lobby like good little witnesses. The young police officer looks over to Jasper where he lays, lips pursed in a thin line.

Spontaneous thunderstorms. They come and go. Spontaneous violence is much the same. Lightening cracks outside the hospital but inside, there's only the crying of the living victims and the barking orders of cops as they pour in and start the clean up of a very dismal day.

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