Participants:
| Scene Title | Guarding Kasha |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Terror and looters abound. |
| Date | November 8, 2010 |
Confucius Plaza — Brian's Apartment
The City has gone to hell. Even though the epicenter of the chaos lies elsewhere, Chinatown is not exempt from the madness that has descended upon New York. Smaller scale rioting and looting has ravaged the streets from Canal street to the Confucius Plaza. The apartments in Confucius Plaza have also fallen victim to the widespread disaster.
Inside his apartment, Brian's couch is turned to face the door. A dresser has been pressed in front of the door. The young man is nestled in the middle of the couch, his gun nestled in the lap, pointing at the door. His eyes are red as if he hasn't slept for a long time. Pushing his back into the couch, he tilts his head back for a single moment.
Bringing his eyes back to the door at the sound of a yell, Brian readjusts his wrist slightly. The screaming happens every now and then. Sounds of quarreling or fighting, scuffles in the hallway. Louder sounds of larger combat down in the streets. Only once in the last hour has someone tried to enter his apartment. They were not successful. Though the door came off the hinges, Brian was able to put it back in position so that it looks sturdy. And the dresser won't be easy to get by.. If someone does get by.
Adjusting his gun, Brian glances down to the crying infant in his free arm. Kasha isn't too hot on all this violence, and despite doing all he can for her, she just won't stop crying today. And so Brian remains, staring at the door, unmoving…
One person can't be blocked from entering the room despite the couch. Ghost or not, the modern day apocalypse has officially freaked Samara out. She's watched people hurt each other, loot from stores, and essentially cause the strangest mayhem she's ever seen. More than anything, she wants to forget that this day is happening, and so she comes here, one of the few places she knows — and one of the few people she knows — to check on.
She walks through the door and the dresser and into the apartment, no real barricade can keep the incorporeal young woman out, her eyebrows furrowing at the crying baby. She kneels down; not that the baby can necessarily hear her, although there was that time at the zoo when the animals noticed her. Freaky. "Hi little one~" she says musically. "Shhhh. It's gonna be okay~ I promise it's gonna be okay~"
She turns back to see herself in the dresser mirror, flickering a smile at herself and waving randomly, should Brian get a glimpse of her, it's not like he'll know she's here otherwise, right?
Eyes flicker to the mirror for a moment, his gun pulls up instinctively before slowly lowering back into his lap. He blinks once or twice as if trying to get ahold of the situation. He seems tired, more like he's been awake for days than just the one. He pushes the gun point down into his lap. Staring wearily into the mirror, he summons up a weak smile. "Sam-eye.." He says softly.
His eyes slowly slide over to the crying infant. "Her name is Kasha. She won't stop crying." He looks back to the mirror. "I'm sorry I didn't take you to the lady's place.. We'll go soon. If we're all alive, I mean." His usual good humor is a bit drained, a loud noise from the hall has his eyes rapidly trained back on the door. He attempts to rock Kasha back and forth a little bit without much avail.
"Kasha~" Samara repeats musically as she crouches next to the pair. "You have a beautiful name~" her tone is that reserved for babies, puppies, and other cute things. Brian's edginess knits her eyebrows even tighter together. She holds up a single finger, indicating she'll be nothing more than a moment. Silent, floaty steps take her beyond the door again as she peers down the hall; nothing on either side as it stands.
She floats back towards the mirror and shakes her hand, there's no one there right now. She shrugs at him; it's the least she can do, and really the only thing she can offer in such chaos as someone who isn't really there.
The gun is pushed into the couch, his now free hand coming over to rest atop Kasha gently. He glances over his shoulder at the kitchen. "She might be hungry." He says dryly before looking at the mirror. "Sorry. I'm being rude. Hi Sam-Eye. How's your day today?" He asks weakly, slowly going to stand. The baby remains cradled gently in his arms, though he leaves his eyes trained on the mirror for her reaction.
"I'm doing just fine, thanks for asking." The wane smile again before he makes his way to the kitchen. "There's a mirror in the kitchen, come on." Walking into the kitchen swiftly, he goes to check the refrigerator to find the baby formula.
Samara frowns empathetically at the question, she wasn't expecting anyone to ask her about her day amid all of the nonsense transpiring in the city outside and so she shrugs in response, holding her hands out in a silent question all her own, 'What can she do about it, anyways' There's little to be done except watch and wait for things to calm down; not that she's much for waiting.
She traipses after him into the kitchen and watches as he goes about the business of feeding the baby while she makes funny faces at Kasha in the tradition that all adults to just to get a glimmer of a smile from the infant.
She turns to the mirror and makes a finger gun with her hands and then pretends to aim it before shrugging her shoulders again. Her question is simple enough, but the delivery is complex: has anyone tried to come in?
"Since you don't speak sign language, I'm going to assume by that shrug you meant that your day is great except you were chased by a polar bear who happens to see dead people on Roosevelt Island." Getting the bottle ready, Brian goes to put it in the microwave before pausing. "No electricity." He sighs softly, placing the bottle on the counter he looks down at the baby hopelessly. "Sorry Kash. You're gonna have to have this meal old-world style."
Walking back to the family room slash foyer, he goes to sit on the couch. Cradling the child against his chest he goes to start her din-din. "Uhm. To your second question, have I ever had a shoot out with David Hasslehoff. No." He leans back into the couch, his eyes fixing on the door glassily.
Samara sighs. No power. Everything about this situation makes her feel helpless, and not just here. She'd walked through rapid gunfire and could do nothing to stop it. In all of this, she feels downright helpless. Carefully she allows herself to sink to the floor, her back resting against the wall — not that she would call it resting, the position is only possible because of her constant practice at trying not to walk through or fall through everything. Years of practice, really.
Skeptically she wrinkles her nose at his response about David Hasslehoff, but on one point she can correct him; she taught herself the alphabet in sign language. Kind of. Well she started and sesame street had a thing on it. While it might mean she has to literally spell everything (and she was never a good speller), she has formed some rudimentary communication skills… four years later. She spells with her fingers, I N-O-W L-E-T-T-E-S N-O-W. It's not a perfect way to communicate but it does work somewhat. His gaze on the door has her literally poking her head into the hall.
This time, however, she gasps, not that Brian can hear. Several crazy-eyed types are wandering its expanse, banging on each of the doors in turn. She pokes her head back into the apartment, and wide-eyed makes her finger gun again, there's no safety to be had in a city of looters and violence.
Glancing at the mirror. "Okay. I have had a shootout with the ol' Hoff. But it was a long time ago and neither of us like to talk about it." The bottle pauses as he peers at the mirror intently. The baby making a small noise which makes him tilt the bottle back down. Staring for a long moment he tilts his head a little bit. "I now lettuce now." He hums lightly. "Inowlettucenow. Inowlettesnow." He narrows his brows intently.
"I know letters now!"
His momentary joy in discovering the secret message is dropped swiftly. He goes to set the baby down on the couch gingerly, placing the bottle on the ground. The baby starts to cry instantly, but Brian has no time. Standing up the gun is back in hand. Moving back into the living room, a hand held mirror is quickly grabbed. "Tell me if she needs help." Moving back to the doorway, he places the barrel off the gun near the doorframe. The mirror held below his eye level slightly. He waits, ready to shove the gun into a man's face should they decide to come to his door.
Samara actually leaps for joy as he deciphers her poorly delivered messaged. Even if she 'knows' letters, she doesn't really know them, just a vague remembrance. But the merriment is very short lived, particularly as she nods in response, she can watch Kasha, even if Kasha doesn't know she's being watched. She reaches for the child, willing herself to gently touch the baby's face, but that simple physical caress eats her energy, she'll be lucky if she interact in any other way with the physical world today.
In the hall, the large stalky man and his lankier comrade kick the door down across the way. They're nothing more than petty thieves… very well armed and bullet-stocked petty thieves.
Minutes later they're pressing against Brian's door, attempting to enter the apartment.
"Wrong door motherfucker. Keep walking."
The barrel of the gun pushes through the crack of the door towards the first man. "I'm armed and I'm evolved. Get the fuck away." At least this catastrophe allows people to be more honest in their everyday dealings. A silver lining? I think so! Standing still and taking a deep breath, he glances over to where Samara should be with the baby. "Don't look this way, Sam-Eye." Unless you want to see a bunch of naked Brians. Which.. Come on.
Skin sliding off skin, two identical men in every way to Brian simply step out off the ex-agent. The two copies stand nakedly in front of the dresser. Very convenient, that the door happened to be blocked off by a dresser. Two pairs of shorts are quickly taken out so that the cavalry can get dressed.
The first man actually backs up at the gun directed at him, but in a random fit of rage and determination, his partner, who is safely away from the crack in the door, barrels down against it again, pressing all of his body weight into it and causing the door to shake in it's frame.
One of the most natural things in the world is to look when someone tells you not to. Samara turns to face him, only to look away seconds later. Instantaneously, her entire face turns a bright tomato red, or as red as an intangible person's can get, as she redirects her attention to the baby. She covers her eyes with her hands, "See no evil~" then she covers her ears with her hands, "Hear no evil~" and then, she can't remember the last bit, "Uh… and don't be a shoulder devil~" she does her best devil horns using her pointer fingers atop her head, all in all, it's rather ridiculous, but it's meant for the baby… that can't see her.
"Really? Seriously. There's like six empty rooms on this floor and you choose the one with a gun…"
The two newly arrived copies push hard against the dresser to push the door back into it's rightful place. The first Brian aims the gun steadily at the door, ready to take a shot, but pauses. Flashing his eyes back to the baby, "Sam cover her…" A mumbled 'god damnit' goes under his breath as one of the copies leaves his post on the dresser to press his hands firmly against Kasha's ears.
Very appropriate with Sami's hear no evil and shoulder devil theme. A single bullet rings out through the drywall into the hallway. It's pointed up, Brian has no intention of shooting anyone at this moment. Scaring them off would be fine enough. "Get the fuck away!"
And again Samara feels virtually useless; she can't even cover the poor baby's ears. With the smallest frown, she pushes the thought aside and covers her own ears again in a failed attempt to distract the poor kid. She pouts; no kid should have to endure this, especially not a baby.
The presence of the gun and comment manage to have the first guy — the one imminently in danger back off to the tune of his friend yelling, "Pussy!" The second lankier guy, however, even in his yelling at his friend decides to back away from the door at the shot. No one wants to die today. Not in this hallway, anyways.
The door seems clear. For now.
Lowering the gun, Brian turns around to 'look' at Sami. But looking at nothing is only fun for so long. So he's then walking to the first copy. The lightest contact and the shorts drop to the ground, as if they had never been worn. The same thing happens to the second copy. The gun is placed down on the couch as the young man goes to retrieve the baby. "Wanna check, make sure they left? I wish I would have brought a shotgun here." He says, to the mirror.
Watching the mirror, he gives a heavy sigh as he tilts the bottle back to Kasha's mouth. Once she returns into the mirror, his hand goes down to the reflection. The hand opens up to grasp at her intangible hand as if some type of comfort would be found there. Leaning down he goes to plant a gentle kiss against the baby's forehead.
There's a small nod, tiny in its movement as Sami disappears from view again. She peers down the hall both ways, looking for their trigger happy, greedy-minded intruders, but sees no sign of them. With an easier sigh, laced with relief, she lets herself reenter the apartment and the scope of the mirror. With a small twitch of fingers in a tiny wave, she issues him the slightest shrug of shoulders and a small smile; it may be strained and the world may be ending, but Brian and Kasha are safe. For now, anyways.
The offered hand is taken, or as taken as she can make it. More than anything she would like to squeeze it and give some measure of comfort, but she can't, it's not in her makeup. Yet using her little bit piece of interaction with the physical world, he can almost feel something against his skin, the faintest brush of contact as fleeting as it had appeared.
With her opposite hand, she signs, this time opting for text speak, U O-K?
Squeezing the intangible hand. Brian lets out a heavy sigh. "I'm okay." His hand then leaves hers, or the air where hers would be, and goes to his chin then leaves. Thank you. "That means thank you." He murmurs with a weak smile. Then he starts doing letters with one hand. I…AM….TIRED He gives her a few moments to process his letters.
Adjusting the baby against his chest, he makes his way back to the couch. He brings his other arm up under the child. "When I have a lot of me out there. I get tired.. faster. The longer I stay out, the more drained I get. I have to be several places at once right now though.. I just. I can't wait until this day is over. I need to rest." He smiles at the mirror. "You alright?"
The question has her tilting her head in response, humming and hawing over whether or not she's alright; it shouldn't be a matter for debate, but it is. And so, Samara just shrugs. She doesn't know. But she manages a small smile, she's glad everyone's okay.
With a soft sigh indiscernible sigh, she slides next to him and peeks over at the baby in his arms, choosing again to make faces at it — reflected in the mirror. At this moment, in this place, there's a momentary peace. Yet even it's tainted by the knowledge there's no way this peace will last.