Participants:
| Scene Title | Fear No Evil |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Heroism comes in many forms; during a hostage crisis at the Brooklyn Public Library, the courage of several individuals is put the ultimate test. |
| Date | October 6, 2008 |
The central branch of the Brooklyn Public Library has never been a popular place to hang out, but for some — especially the unemployed and those who have been forced into refugee housing — it's better than the alternative: aimlessly wandering the borough's graffiti-tagged streets. Even though security is lax and the building isn't as structurally sound as it used to be, it remains one of the safer, quieter locations for people to gather. It's also a great place to take shelter from the miserable drizzle that's coming down outside on this chilly October afternoon. For many of the men, women and children who are idling in the main section of library, waiting for the weather to improve, warmth alone is reason enough to stand like fools near the windows and watch the rain pattering rhythmically against the glass.
Simon pushes his way into the library with a backpack tossed over one shoulder, moving swiftly towards an area dedicated to wooden tables of various sizes and shapes. "At least this project is kind of interesting. I mean, it could be worse, right?" he says to Samir, who has come in with him to do some research on the water crisis and its effects on developing nations. Somehow, though, the huddled masses ignoring the books completely seem to make that problem far, far away. Simon picks out a round table and drops his bag on top of it, which he then starts to unzip to fish out a notebook.
One of the people who's often at the library for reasons other than shelter or boredom is a young woman with long black hair and bangs that fall into her heavily make-up framed eyes. Gillian's sitting at the the counter near the front, waiting for someone to check out a book, or ask questions, flipping idly through a hard back book, hand resting on her pale cheek, darkly reddened lips slightly parted.
A quiet crackle and pop of radio static marks the entrance of another man, though its quickly silenced with a synthesized 'be-boop' as Gabriel turns the radio clipped to his belt off. Equipped with a black peacoat for the rain, some offer him an odd glance for the sunglasses worn on a raining October day, but to be honest, for most of them its a 'who gives a rats ass' situation. That said, he makes his way mostly unmolested towards an unused computer.
Trask has a couple books himself in a stack in his arms. He makes his way toward the front counter. They are mostly books on law enforcement, and history of investigation and crime. He puts the stack of about a dozen down on the counter near Gillian.
"Could be worse," Samir echoes rather flatly, his expression just a hair away from sullen as he trails after Simon to the table. There is a somewhat reluctant tone to his voice as he speaks again — the young man is not particularly the type to be thrilled with being assigned a partner, but such is high school. His lips purse slightly as his gaze flickers around the library, thoughtful. "This place is huge. I'll go figure out where we can find newspapers and magazines and — things." He keeps his own backpack firmly on his back as he threads his way between tables to head towards the counter, shifting restlessly from one foot to the other as he waits behind Trask.
Near the front of the library, a few feet away from Gillian's desk, the branch's two security guards sit at their post, speaking in hushed voices with a copy of the New York Times spread between them. The tone of their conversation is jovial, stark in contrast to the gray skies outside and the occasional distant boom of thunder — a sure sign that the weather is going to get worse before it gets better. Every time someone slips through the front door, a breeze whips through and causes the newspaper's edges to flutter. It would blow away if it weren't for the thermos of coffee that one of the guards is using to hold it down.
Simon watches Samir run off to the front desk and lets out a sigh. It was going to be tough to get used to the school again after being away for so long. After setting his notebook down along with a pen and a highlighter, he starts to walk off for the shelves of books to do some exploring since Samir is doing his own thing at the desk. The thunder doesn't worry him much, but he figures it will keep them in here long enough to knock out a decent report.
Thunk. A pile of books gets sat on the counter. Gillian glances up from her book and moves a small card between the pages to act as a bookmark, but doesn't quite close it yet. "Checking out?" she asks, voice a soft whispered drone. Polite enough, though she does cast sullen sideways glance toward the closest window. Doesn't look like she's going to enjoy the trip home tonight.
Gabriel finds his computer to use and sits down towards the edge of the seat provided. Yanking a small flip notebook and a pen from an interior pocket of his pea coat, he goes about his work. Alternatively, his fingers dance along the keyboard before jotting down lists of Dewey decimal numbers like some kind of crazy cypher.
Trask looks at the sky himself, "Yeah….I need to get started on my research," he sighs softly, "I wonder who poked her today?" he asked under his breath.
"Poked?" Samir looks briefly baffled, gaze skipping between Trask and Gillian. "I think it is just one of those days." He is still rather impatiently restless, fingers fidgeting with one strap of his backpack as he glances from the counter to a window looking out on the gloomy afternoon, and then back to the table where Simon sits. He is faintly scowling. Maybe it's the rain.
When Samir looks out the window, he might catch a glimpse of several figures dressed in heavy wool coats moving around the side of the library as they make their way toward the front door. A moment later, the first of six tall, dark-clothed men steps into the library. He, like his companions behind him, is soaked so thoroughly to the bone that one of the security guards has to stop what he's doing, rise from his chair, and approach them with the thermos of coffee held in his left hand. "Sir," he starts, "you can't come in here like that. I'm going to have to ask you to take off your coat."
As the security guard reaches out toward the man with his right hand, a single shot rings out. The sound is so loud, so abrupt that it could easily be mistaken for someone dropping a heavy book on the other side of the library. Unfortunately, as a dark spot appears in the center of the security guard's chest and begins spreading outward, it becomes evident that it wasn't just an accident. In the silence that follows, he staggers backwards several steps, trips over his chair and crumples to the floor like a broken marionette — its strings severed.
"Everybody get down!"
Simon jumps from between the stacks of books as the shot rings out. He almost screams, but is able to stifle his voice. "What the hell?" he asks himself nervously as he peeks through the cracks between books in the shelf. He's barely able to see what's going on, but what he does see is a security lying on the floor. He ducks down as the voice commands, but tries to stay hidden for now, since he's not out in the open.
Though masked under a veil of bangs, Gillian's eyebrows raise briefly at the man's words, before she closes her hardback book and moves closer to the pile. "Been 'one-of-those days' for two years," she says in a sullen tone, before holding her hand out. "Library card?" she asks… but that's as far as she gets when all of a sudden her eyes get drawn to the front of the library and… Everybody get down? Check. She lets out a mild curse under her breath, and ducks down behind the counter, reaching for her bag on the floor.
Trask vaults the desk at the first sound of gun fire, joining Gillian on her side of the counter, when the command goes out to get down, he tries to pull her down with him, and out of the shooters line of fire.
"Ah. Maybe it is just her, th—" Samir's words are cut off by the sound of the gunshot. He does not yell, though his eyes go very wide and he scrambles back away from the desk, startled, to drop to the floor. His fingers sink just a hair into the floor before he lifts them to place his hands more normally on its surface. His gaze flickers around nervously, his jaw tensed as he tries to see what is going on.
The second security guard is dispatched as swiftly as the first, this time with two staccato shots to the head. Never having gotten the opportunity to move from his chair, he slumps forward until his face hits the table with a sickening smack. The man who was first through the door, and presumably the one who is in charge of the group, lowers the pistol and gestures for three of his companions to stay by the door while the other two follow him up to the desk that Gillian and Trask are hiding behind.
The gunman stops beside Samir and crouches down, trying to simultaneously grab a handful of the teen's hair with his other hand and yank him to his feet. "Hey!" he shouts, his voice echoing through the room with such force that it drowns out another peal of thunder from outside, "I want to talk to the person in charge!"
Simon, still crouched behind the shelf, starts to move to find a better vantage point. He pulls out a hardback and peers through the crack to see the other security guard down. He also can count the number of men at the door now. That makes him start to get scared. Despite the yelling from the counter, he stays put, eager to not be seen anytime soon.
"He-hey," Gillian tries to protest as she's grabbed, not looking very grateful at the protection. The approaching voices, and the request make her glance up. "Oh hell," she mutters under her breath. Sounds like they're manhandling, even. Library Assistant doesn't mean in charge, does it?
Trask keeps his own head down behind the counter, not even looking up when she ducks her head up there. "How many of them are there?" he asks the woman who looks.
Samir proves to be rather hard to yank — startled and scared, his phasing reflexively kicked in with the first gunshot, and he is rather at a loss for how to reverse it. The gunman's hand goes straight through his very intangible hair, and Samir flinches, pressing himself flatter against — and slightly down into — the floor, eyes still wide as he stares up at the now-very-close gunman, not noticeably less frightened for the fact that he is rather harder to touch.
The gunman jerks back as if he's just been burned, his hand snapping away from Samir's head. It doesn't take long for him to realize what just happened, and when it does a look of revulsion crosses his features. He points the gun at the youth, but does not pull the trigger. "S'one of them," he slurs at the others, speech thick with disgust, "start rounding everybody up. Check wallets and purses for IDs. If they're registered, I want to know about it." Then louder, for all the library to hear, "Ten seconds! If nobody comes forward, I'm gonna start shooting again!"
Simon watches as one of the gunmen's hands slip through Samir, and he lets out the breath that he's found himself to be holding. As the command for the other gunmen to disperse is given, Simon realizes it's only a matter of time before he's found. So, he quickly reaches into his pocket to retrieve a cell phone, and dials out 9-1-1 on the keypad before pressing SEND.
Gillian doesn't really have time to answer the man behind the counter with her, cursing again and then standing up, slowly. Her hands grip the edge of the counter, trying to keep her head high despite the possible danger. "I'm in charge of the counter, if that's what you mean." Her voice doesn't shake, but her legs aren't quite as steady as they could be, and she's digging her nails into the counter.
Trask pulls out his wallet, and slides it into one of the cubby holes under the librarians counter, where pens and over due slips are normally kept. He pushes it back pretty far to make sure that it can't be seen by a casual observer.
Samir's face has a rather similar look of revulsion as the man speaks, and he scoots back further away from the gunman, retreating beneath a table. His hands are shaking, and he is finding it altogether rather difficult to stay on the ground rather than partly inside it. His head turns, gaze searching worriedly for his schoolmate, though the worry only grows when he can't manage to see him.
Having ducked into cover when the first signs of trouble started popping up, Gabriel finds himself in a unique situation. He quickly pulls a few books out of the shelf he's standing behind to try and keep an eye on the gunmen towards the front of the building before pulling his service weapon — a simple black semi-auto piece — and flips the safety off without thought before going back to watching and, presumably, trying to figure out a solution that doesn't involve getting himself killed.
The lead gunman's attention shifts from Samir to Gillian, and slowly he swivels around until the gun is pointed at her instead. "Good enough," he says, gesturing to Samir, "get over here and lay down on the floor next to him. Face down."
As the two men who followed their leader to the desk fan out and begin searching nearby wallets and purses for identification cards belonging to Evolved individuals, dispatch finally picks up Simon's call after what must feel like an eternity. "This is 9-1-1," comes a tinny voice that luckily only he can hear, "what's your emergency?"
Simon gets a warm and tingly feeling when the dispatcher picks up. He almost didn't think she would. He watches a lot of movies. "They're got guns. Four or five of them — I don't know." Simon peeks through the books again to see if he can count, when he realizes he left out the most important piece of information. "Oh! I'm at the library. Hurry." He says all of this as quietly as he can, in a hushed whisper.
There's a muttered curse again as Gillian moves away from the counter, leaving behind a fingernail scrape or two to show just how much she dug into the wood. Her own bag can be searched and checked, but she's not registered with anyone except the library. Face down on the ground? She straightens her dark top, with a little name badge on it, and moves to lay down on the ground next to the guy indicated. He's close to the table, she's not getting under it, though. The tribal tattoo with a rose becomes very visible, as she keeps her hands near her head… and then glances cautiously toward the kid nearby.
Samir looks back at Gillian, face as pale as his dark skin will get. He inches just a hair closer to her, eyes flickering over her to look for signs of injury. "Are you okay?" he asks, his accented voice barely a whisper.
Gabriel lets the index finger of the hand holding his firearm rub subconsciously in little circles. Then it hits him; he pulls his radio off his belt and spins the squelch knob all the way up — no chatter giving his position away — before turning it back on. With a wince as the device beeps, he sets it on its side and finds a nearby book to balance on the talk button. With the squelch up, there's no way to know if the book is actually doing the job, but its worth a shot. If it works, emergency dispatch has an ear on all the proceedings.
Simon's plea is met with the tap-tap-tap of prosthetic fingernails dancing across a keyboard, followed by the click of a mouse. Dispatch must be working a computer. "All right, sir," the voice says, "try to stay calm, and stay put. Before I can send our people out your way, I need to know which branch you're at. Is anybody hurt?"
Back at the front desk, the lead gunman keeps his pistol trained on Gillian as she moves, a small smirk appearing on his lips when her tattoo comes into view. "Nice—" he mutters under his breath, cut short by the singular beep of the radio before he gets the chance to follow up with a lewder comment. His eyes narrow and, scowling, he begins scanning the immediate area in a feeble attempt to pinpoint its source. Gabriel is probably safe — at least for now. "The hell was that?"
"Brooklyn. I'm in Brooklyn." Simon hears the beep as well, which comes from only a couple shelves away. He starts to panic, knowing the gunmen probably heard it, too. "T — They killed two people. Shi — " Simon starts to move, still crouched, away from where the beep came from, aiming to zig-zag through the shelves to avoid being seen.
"Wonderful," Gillian responds rather sarcastically as she keeps looking at the kid, almost as if she's wondering if he just got himself a one way ticket to being registered. "So what do you want exactly?" she finally asks, tilting her head up just enough to look at the man's ankle. "Guessing you're not here for a book." It could seem a brave front, but the way her legs are tensed under dark pants— she's not quite as dismissive of the situation as she's making herself sound.
Samir's eyes narrow on Gillian, lips thinning. "I wonder how you could tell," he mutters, glancing back towards the gunman (or, well, the gunman's foot, which is about at his eye level.) His hands are still shaking where they press against the floor — which, in the few feet around him, is beginning to act a little bit oddly. His rattling nerves make his power rather unstable, and its effects are spreading even more than they normally would — in his vicinity, the floor is becoming just as intangible as he is, in erratically leaking patches. Both Gillian and the gunman might find their footing rather less firm, in places.
Gabriel shh's the radio silently, the using the barrel of his gun like a finger as if comforting a baby. That done, he begins a low stalk away from where he leaves the device, maneuvering around the corner from the shelf in search of a place where he can keep an eye on the goings-on at large, but maybe sneak up on anybody that wanders over to investigate.
"Whatever you're doing," the lead gunman hisses at Samir, one arm held out to help him keep his balance now that one of his boots is sinking slowly into the floor, "stop."
By some miracle, Simon steers clear of the searching gunmen — they're too focused on rummaging through purses and bags to notice his shape as it flits briefly through their peripheral vision. Gabriel too avoids detection, though others in their vicinity are not so lucky. The men return to the front desk, marching several more hostages in front of them at gunpoint — among them, a small boy who can't be more than six or seven, and an old woman clutching her purse in her hands to keep them from shaking.
Once he's found his footing again, the lead gunmen steps away from Samir, back onto solid around. He then turns to the rest of the room and fires his gun into the air to get everyone's attention. What he's about to say next must be important, or he wouldn't waste bullets just to ensure that the library is listening. "The rest of you, get out!" Whatever it is they want, is must have something to do with the Evolved. Every one of the hostages who was brought to the front desk has an ID card to their name, and as he waits for the non-Evolved to begin leaving the library, one of the gunmen starts shuffling through them, perhaps to get a better idea of what abilities they might be dealing with.
Simon stops as he finds a more comfortable vantage point. He's far from the front now, though, and he can't make out any details of what is going on. He should leave, he knows, but for some reason he doesn't. Maybe it's because Samir has been caught, or maybe because he just doesn't want the gunmen to figure out that they've missed him. He whispers, "Hurry." Into the phone before hanging up and putting the cell away. That's when he starts to look around for a sprinkler system, if the library should have one.
What the— From where she's laying on the floor, Gillian notices her body trying to sink. It's not easy to figure out the source— she looks towards the young man, a hint of an apology in her eyes, before she starts to move, looking over at them. She's starting to wish she never came to work today. Counter person in charge isn't pleased to be included in hostage crisis. She also opts to stay quiet, looking over at Samir, and then does the only thing she can really think to do… she starts to wiggle away from him. And they're bringing more of the over near her…
"I can't," Samir says, his voiced edged with nervousness, and there's a note of apology in his own expression as he looks back at Gillian. His fingers ball into fists as the hostages are brought forward, and his lips move silently in prayer.
This is going badly. Very badly. Gabriel slowly runs his tongue over his lips, trying to fight the cotton mouth immediately preceding dramatic moments in one's life. He edges his way around one book shelf, tensing as he watches the new captives hauled off towards the front. Tapping the barrel of his Beretta against his forehead, he quietly mouths a prayer. "Where the fuck are you people.." He whispers under his breath at its completion. Backup seemingly not coming, he readies himself to move when the seemingly inevitable begins.
The man with the ID cards begins reciting the information printed on them for the benefit of his companions, though Gillian might be able to glean something from it as well. "Greer Almas Alba, force field generation. Irenka Zielinski, aura reading. Margaret Timmons, anatomical intuition. Anthony Fisher, danger sense — didn't help you much, did it Anthony? Michael Welsh, omnilingualism. James Craven, superhuman memory… Which one do you think we should do first?"
All Simon has to do is look up. Like most of the libraries in New York City, Brooklyn's central branch is indeed equipped with a sprinkler system, though the teen has no way of knowing whether it's activated by heat or smoke. Either way, if he sets it off he risks ruining the library's collection — and some of the books stored here are irreplaceable. Then again, so are the lives of the people who have been singled out by the gunmen.
Soon, the library is empty but for the gunmen, their hostages, and Gabriel and Simon — the only two brave enough, or stupid enough, to remain behind.
Simon has never been one to care much for books, which is why his plan involves burning one and ruining a whole lot more. As he goes fishing through his pockets, though, he quickly becomes distressed. Yep, he's left his lighter in his backpack, which is way over by the gunmen. Way to go, Mr. Hero. He mutters something to himself, but holds on to the book nonetheless. He continues to wind his way through the shelves, but stops when he sees that he's not the only one there. Gabriel is also stalking the shelves, and he's armed. Mistaking him for a gunman, Simon jumps and freezes as he spots him.
Forcefield generation? Gillian doesn't like the sound of this at all, but she keeps her eyes on that one for a moment, trying to shift a little closer to them, without sinking too deep into the unstable floor. It's a weird sensation, like moving through a thick liquid, but she wants to get closer to that one. For the moment. She's not trying to cause trouble, from the way she's moving it could be taken as fidgeting in fear, trying to get away from some of these people. "What do you need me for exactly?" she finally asks. There was nothing in her bag that would make them add her with this group.
"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil; for thou art with me,
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me
Thou preparest a table in the presence of mine enemies;
Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over…"
Gabriel's head flicks over to the youth who stumbles upon his presence midway through his prayer but quickly realizes the kid's not a threat. Waving his free hand towards the floor he takes a deep, calming breath. Then he stands, quickly training his weapon on the closest gunman. He double taps the trigger, and turns the weapon towards the next before he can even see if he hit that one, a possibly vain attempt in overwhelming them before they can start killing innocents.
"You?" the lead gunmen asks Gillian. "You're the contingency plan if things go south when the police show up." And they will show up. Not only have Simon and Gabriel gone out of their way to alert the local authorities to the situation in the library, but the people who were allowed to leave are undoubtedly jamming the lines now that they're outside and not worried about getting shot. "I'm not gonna kill you if I don't have to — you're not like them."
As Samir moves closer to the other hostages, they too begin to sink into the floor as they're forced onto their knees and then their bellies. Gillian's proximity to him only makes the surface more unstable — but by the time the gunmen can realize what this might mean, one of the hostages has already been swallowed up and sucked into the library's basement. Even if they could do something about it, it isn't likely that they would; one of them is dead before he hits the ground, caught in the chin by one of Gabriel's bullets. Although his next shot misses and ricochets off the front desk, it causes the men to scatter like roaches. They don't know where the gunfire is coming from, and they'll need to first find cover if they want to stand any chance of striking back.
Things are starting go bad, or maybe no if you consider that one of the gunmen is down and the rest scared as hell. Simon winces as the shots ring out, but he takes this as a moment to act. He turns around and sees a couple of gunmen running, and although they're pretty far away, he looks at his book for only a moment before throwing it as hard as he can at the nearest gunman. It sails through the air and Simon ducks behind the shelf, not wanting to be on the receiving end of any more gunfire. As long as the distance between himself and the gunman wasn't too long, he trusts his aim to be true.
"Nice to know," the dark haired young woman mutters in response to being told she won't be killed unless they have to. That's something. But then it's happening again. Guns firing. This time, Gillian puts her hands over her head and closes her eyes, still flat against the ground near Samir and the hostages. She knows what she's doing is making things a little worse, but with one hostage falling through the floor— she's desperately not wanting to draw attention to herself. Ever. And she's going to get stuck cleaning this mess up, isn't she?
Trask takes this moment to roll out from behind the counter, trying to get one or two of the gun men in a cross fire, "Put your guns down and surrender and you won't be hurt" he yells out from his covered firing position, trying to pick off one or two of the gunmen, preferably without actually killing them.
Samir winces slightly as the person falls through the floor — but then, bruises from a one-story fall are probably better than getting shot, so he keeps edging closer as the gunmen scatter. When more gunshots start firing, he reaches out for the leg of the nearest hostage, hoping to grab them so that his uncontrolled ability will phase them, too; he can't take them all with him, but one less person in danger of taking a bullet is still a positive thing, in his opinion.
Gabriel decides its time to move before the gunmen realize where he is. And the inherent advantage of numbers and firepower they hold. He runs, jumping over a round table where two young men had planned on studying before. Letting his ass land, he slides to the other side and ducks down before trying to get a clearer picture of where the hostages and terrorists are.
One thing the gunmen clearly didn't count on was a confrontation with two off-duty members of New York City's finest. As if Gabriel wasn't bad enough, they now have two people shooting at them. Trask clips the shoulder of the gunman nearest to him, but unlike Gabriel he's much closer to the action — and therefore an easier target. They return fire, lodging one bullet between his knuckles and another in the meaty flesh of his arm. Those that are left standing decide they've had enough and, shouting "Bail! Bail!", bolt for the front doors as the wail of police sirens heralds the help Simon called for.
One gunman lies dead in a pool of his own blood. Another sits with his back to the front desk, clutching his wounded shoulder while a third, having taken the corner of a book to the back of his head, tries to regain his bearings. There is no sign of the other three. They're already out the door and, judging by the popping noises outside, in a confrontation with the police cruiser that just pulled up to the front of library.
Simon is breathing heavily now, having never been in a shootout before. Things seem to be finishing up quickly, though, and as he peeks around the corner of a bookshelf he sees that no hostages are harmed. He grins and moves around the shelf, heading closer to the group.
As things start to calm down — or at least look like they're stabilizing, Gillian begins to sit up, but cautiously watches those with guns to make sure they're not pointing at her. Once she's sure they're not, she starts to crawl in the direction of the counter— where the guy who pulled her down happens to be with a gun. Huh. "Still want to ch eck those books out?" She has no idea why, but she does immediately notice how her 'sense' drops out as she gets closer to him. Which is good, in her opinion. All the Evolved around was making her tired.
Trask has been shot, he recovers his pistol with his uninjured hand as a red stain begins growing down his arm. As the gunman make a break for it, he seems to be moving to make sure the hostages are okay, and that the gun men who went down are disarmed.
As the gunmen flee, Samir lets go of the person he was holding, and sits up rather shakily on the floor (which continues to be just as unstable as it has been.) He lets out a slow breath as he looks around. A very brief, wan smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he sees Simon approaching. "You are okay?" he wonders, first, and then, "Please do not ever say 'it could be worse' to me again."
Gabriel re-evaluates his position down by the table and jogs towards the front counter. He comes down quick and hard on the former gunman current book-to-the-head victim. He uses his free hand to 'guide' the man face down on the floor, using his firearm as his tyranny of logic not to argue. He drops his hand-cuffs next to the man's head and offers some helpful advice — quietly. Don't want just anyone listening in, after all. "Move and I'll assume you're a threat." Somehow, the words seem threat-like in nature themselves. Looking over to Trask, "You alright?"
Beneath Gabriel, the disarmed gunman groans his assent. It's not as though he has much of a choice but to submit and hope that his trigger finger isn't as itchy as he's threatening.
Simon lets out a deep breath as everything seems to be going fine right now. The gunmen are down and nobody else is hurt. Except for Trask, though he seems to be running around easily enough. As Samir comes up, he grins and says, "I never ever will. Ever. Do you think we'll be exempt from the report for this?"
The guy she's talking to did just get shot, so Gillian winces a little. Not trained in medicine, there's not much she can do, so she starts to stand up and move behind the counter. The sirens are already on the way. "There's a first aid kit back here, if stay still long enough." She gets back to her feet now that it seems mostly safe, and pulls it out, dropping it next to his books.
Trask, upon verifying no more gunmen are present he moves back toward the counter, leaning on it hard, and he places his pistol on the counter, and using his one good hand begins breaking open the first aid kit. "I got this…" he pauses as he begins putting pressure on the wound. "Make sure everyone is okay," he seems to be speaking to Gabriel.
"If we do not at least get an extension, there is something seriously wrong with the world." Samir pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, head shaking slightly. The floor around him has reverted to normal, though he is still intangible himself.
As Trask tends to his hand and Gabriel tends to the hostages, a voice speaking through a megaphone gives the all-clear from the cruiser outside. The remaining gunmen have either been apprehended or killed — it's still too early to tell, but within minutes, the library is swarming with police officers and paramedics. There will be time to question the witnesses later; right now, their top priority is ensuring that everyone makes it to the hospital so they can be looked over for any injuries they might have missed.
It's going to be a busy afternoon.
"Yeah, well, let's hope *she* sees it that way," Simon says, with the she being he and Samir's teacher. He starts to move through the cops and paramedics, giving the cops in particular a wide berth. He's heading to the table where his bag is so he can gather his things.
Trask points to Gillian, "My wallet…can you.." he smiles and stops speaking for a moment as paramedics begin moving in on him. He makes sure a fellow police officer collects his piece before they begin working on him.
"Your wallet?" Gillian asks, kneeling down behind the counter and squinting a bit until she locates it, reaching and grabbing it. She gets the picture that he hid it, shoved too far back to be dropped, she puts it down on the counter for him and goes over to the phone. She's definitely calling some of the other assistants. She's not cleaning this all up by herself.
Samir just slumps back where he sits, watching the bustle with tired eyes. He is unharmed, at least, though he manages to find a reason to grumble about that: "It would probably have been a better excuse for not doing the assignment if one of us had gotten shot." Samir is a ball of cheer!
Simon walks back with his bag, having caught the last of what Samir has said. "Well I'm glad you're okay, too. Listen, I'm gonna bolt because I'm really not into answering questions. I'll see you later." And with that he starts to head out, trying to avoid the cops on his way.
Authorities say a hostage crisis at the Brooklyn Public Library's central branch ended this afternoon after security forces killed three of the gunmen as they fled the scene while two off-duty police officers apprehended additional suspects inside the building.
The drama began some time after 3:00 pm when six armed men — believed to be part of a militant, anti-Evolved sect — shot dead two security guards at the front of the library. The suspects then separated those with registration cards and allowed the rest of their hostages to go free.
Police Commissioner Karen Lau said that authorities are looking for more accomplices following the arrest of the two gunmen that survived the ordeal. "Tension has run high in this area since Senator Petrelli's world famous announcement last February," she added. "The suspects haven't provided us with a motive for the shootings, but based on witness reports — I'm confident when I say we believe this to be a hate crime directed at Brooklyn's Evolved population."
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