Participants:
| Scene Title | Halloween Gala, Gardens |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | When the idyllic garden setting becomes one of terror, the criminals don't expect these partiers to foil their plans |
| Date | October 31, 2002 |
Brooklyn Museum Gardens
Outside of the museum, there is a small pool surrounded by greenery, a path meanders through the cultivated plants and leads to a large, glass greenhouse. Inside is a burst of color as blossoming flowers create a vision as beautiful as any of the paintings and statues inside the museum do. It's clear that the team in charge of tending this collection are a passionate lot and knowledgeable in their craft. Walking through the greenhouse is a world tour of colors and smells, and sights rarely seen in the American Northeast. But all paths lead to a silent auction in the back of the greenhouse, a selection of luxury items, trips and art donated by people living here in the Safe Zone. Each has a digital code to scan, allowing partygoers to select and bid on their favorites in privacy. Winners, the auction promises, will be notified just as privately. All proceeds go into the Deveaux Society Charity and are set to serve and better the lives of people living right here in the bones of New York City.
"Haha Charles, you do know how to make a woman laugh. Yes. Oh, I can't sorry I have to make a call. Duty calls." A wink to the pervert of an old man and Becky Taylor or Agent Rebecca Taylor turns her back to the man, makes a gagging motion with her finger and quickly walks away the heels of her stilettos click on the floor.
The ends of her deep green dress flail up into the air and once she's stopped a clear distance the woman takes a long sip from her flute of champagne. She needed something stronger than this. If she was going to weather the storm that was being social and nice. Becky's mask of some African variety, large holes where her brown eyes stare through.
Drifting along the path in a sparkly-white gown that contrasts with her dark hair (or wig) is, at a glance, a dead ringer for Sarah from Labyrinth, silvery hair jewels and all. Unlike the character, she’s abided by the rules and wears a mask, one with white feathers amidst the white bangles, a little nod to the white owl Jareth turns into in the movie. Blue eyes fringed with dark lashes peer out of the eye holes, but the mask is large enough, covering much of her face, so it gives little away as to the slim woman’s identity.
From the main room a woman dressed in gold with red floral highlights slips into the garden, with a quick step. Her golden glittering high heels click on the tile and concrete as she moves a little further from the door. The fabric of her dress seems so full, yet so light as she moves through the much smaller crowd of people.
Kaylee reaches up to dab at the corners of her gold filigree mask, with it’s red crystal rose touches, to make sure it was still firmly attached. Or to make sure that the frustrated tears were not running down her face and smearing her make-up. All the while blue eyes surrounded by smokey eyeshadow watches the people around her, suspicious of everyone. Though she does appreciate some of the others in the room.
Once satisfied that Kaylee’d given herself some distance, the woman in gold stops and takes a deep cleansing breath of fresher air in an attempt to tamp down the rising anxiety in her gut being among so many people.
Kaylee's attention drifts to the rose clutched tightly in her hands and her lips press tightly and then she just feels disappointed in herself.
Thankfully, a server with a tray of fluted glasses stops near her and offers them up. At first Kaylee gives a shake of her head, but when he starts to drift away, she suddenly reaches out to snag one. Though, she doesn’t sip it at first only stares at it, as if she was realizing something for the first time. She could drink! And boy does she, downing half the glass with a quickly regretful grimace, pressing the side of her hand to her red painted lips.
Yi-Min's last experience of a gala had been… while not unpleasant, laden with the burden of compulsory ulterior motives.
More than one year later, tonight represents a blessed progression past that point in time. The grounds are greeted by the ex-Vanguard in a cardinal-red gown tracing the slim lines of her body with roguish intimacy— at least until the skirt’s end, which instead of tapering into nothing, fans out suddenly and lavishly into the ruffled train of a flamenco dress. The mask that hides her eyes is an opulent shape of gold, a twin to her partner's lustrous silver; additionally, hers is crested with a sunray-like burst of crimson feathers. Her short, dark hair, normally so simply kept, is swirled smartly a la the fingerwave style of the 1920's.
One simply does not wear such a daring ensemble without the express intent of showing it off to the entire world.
And tonight, the same as any other night, her world is Kara Prince.
These gardens are rather pleasing too, however. That's the whole reason they're here, instead of in the much more bustling main hall. Cozied into the embrace of her taller partner, Yi-Min is mainly the one who steers their direction as they make their entrance side-by-side. Nobody who knows her would be remotely surprised by the fact this takes her (thus, them) straight to the nearest server with one of those trays of fluted glasses, passing by the Labyrinthian and the African-masked woman with one appraising glance towards each.
As luck would have it, it's the same server who Kaylee had just nipped a drink from. Even behind her mask, Yi-Min can't conceal her glow of amusement when she sees the other woman bolt half her drink in one go. Nor is that low amusement something she tries to conceal. "Rough night?" she inquires casually from some distance away, plucking her own prize of champagne with a red evening gloved-hand before the man moves off again.
The white-and-silver figure turns toward the sound of those drifting into her orbit, a silent ooh rounding her lips that can be seen beneath the mask as she sees the ornate and elaborate costumes of the other women. Her head cants at the query directed to Kaylee, and she takes a step closer.
“Yi-Min?” she asks tentatively, then brings her hand up to cover her mouth. “I mean, don’t answer that if you want to be under cover. I’m not sure if that’s polite or not to ask, at something like this. I’ve never been to a proper masquerade before. Everything is just beautiful,” is a sudden rush of bubbly energy that probably tips off Yi-Min at least to the identity behind the sparkling feather mask. “Alternatively, you can just lie.”
The voice, both Kaylee and Yi-Min are familiar with, though Kaylee’s spent less time with Nova — unless one counts the couple of hours Nova spent reading aloud The Hobbit in a hospital room.
To be honest, Kara Prince wasn't expecting to— in fact, hoping not— to see familiar faces to her here, but maybe it shouldn't surprise her that there's others here that Yi-Min knows.
The silver mask covering her face pairs with a silver-sparkled pair of rabbits ears glued to the flat rim of the tophat she wears. Her hair is worn up in a tight bun centered at the top of her head, the delicate, decorated shape of it hidden in a way known only to her partner. The tuxedo she wears is not fitted well to her, but not all costumes are. It does well to obfuscate her form just a little further, which suits her just fine.
Only Yi-Min needs to know who she actually is. To everyone else…
"It's a little late to take back naming names, isn't it?" she teases Nova, well-meaning in her directness. "I'm Clara. Don't worry, kid— I think this is most people's first masquerade. If there's rules, they should have handed them out at the door." Looking away to observe the muffled light of the restored greenhouse as much as the lights floating on the lawn and in the reflecting pool, she murmurs, "You're right, though."
Kara looks back to Yi-Min with a small curve of a smile, the arm around her side drawing the smaller woman closer. Surely to act as a heat buffer against the post-twilight chill. "It is beautiful here."
“It’ll be looking up soon,” Kaylee comments blandly in return, hoisting the glass up. “First drink since… God… forever? I think Mandy’s party, just before my ability kicked in… I was like… a kid? Ssssixteen?” She looks at what’s left in her glass, “Probably the only good thing about all this.” Taking a small sip this time, she offers Nova a weak smile. “It’s okay, if I was trying to be invisible, I would have done something that hid my face better,” she reaches up to touch the gold mask, with the rose wielding hand. The delicate gold filigree only really covers the area around her eyes.
She gives the other’s outfits another look over, Yi-min and Kara’s especially getting a lop-sided, almost self-conscious, smile. “Y’all look amazing…. Everyone looks so nice and Monica outdid herself on all this… glad I came out tonight, but…” Kaylee says looking out at the garden, the people mingling around talking quietly, “I just wish I could dash this insane amount of anxiety over being around so many people. Normally I know who is who and if they have malicious intent. I thought… “ She sighs out from between red lips, “I thought I could handle it for a night, see what it was like to be here without a headache. I got dressed up and I was going to….” She looks at the rose in her hand and her lips roll together and she stops herself. “Well… I got dressed up anyhow.”
Kaylee gives a small self-deprecating laugh and moves to trade out glasses as another server passes. “I don’t know how y’all do it. Not hearing it all and not being paranoid about everyone.”
Yi-Min pretends to be shocked by Nova's utter flagrance, whipping out a large, intricate red fan (for what would a flamenco dancer be without a fan?) and fanning it across her chest. But then she sneaks a look to Kara beside her, and can't help but deflate and laugh.
"Well. You've gone and seen right through me. I have to say I am surprised to see you here, though." Entry to a grand gala like this isn't in the budget of every college student. When Kaylee speaks up in a recognizable slur, her amusement only strengthens, but so too does her sympathy now that she knows who it is. "It is quite alright. Just rest here for a while, or walk the gardens with us, when you are ready. Far fewer people here. I know that feeling of wanting to get away."
So saying, Yi-Min reaches out to straighten out Kaylee's glittering mask in a brisk but kindly gesture, first snapping her fan shut and tucking it under an arm so she has a hand free to do so. The thing had gone slightly askew with the amount it keeps being prodded.
“Oh, and Kaylee — how funny. Maybe whatever happened to us also makes us homing beacons for one another,” Nova says lightly enough, but then she bites her lower lip like maybe bringing up whatever happened is another faux pas. She glances down, and then smiles at “Clara.”
“Nova. Nice to meet you. You all look lovely. And yeah,” she glances down at herself, fingers finding the fabric of her skirt to rustle lightly. “I didn’t know I was coming either, but someone gave me the costume and the ticket. Like they knew not going to a costume party would break my poor cosplay heart. I love this movie too.”
Kaylee’s words draw another uncertain laugh from the younger woman. “I mean, we don’t know better. It’s just what’s normal to us, so it’s not as hard as it is for you. But I think anyone here is either admiring you or possibly jealous, or both, if that helps. I’m not a telepath, though.”
Tink tink tink
A strange can plinks against the ground around Yi-Min's feet. Then another behind Kaylee. There's barely a moment to notice that they are indeed smoke bombs before they pour out black smoke. It rises quickly to obscure vision throughout the party goers and a little clumsy stumbling around proves that it was more than just those two cans. In fact, it spreads far, creeping up through the flowers and leaves and making it suddenly very nerve wracking to wander too far. Where was the pool? Which direction was the greenhouse? There were thorns on a plant nearby, but… which? Much of the party goes stock still.
And then, gunfire. Three shots ring out, followed by people screaming and clinging to each other. Then, a voice.
"Everyone on the ground!" The shout seems to ring from all directions, bouncing back and forth through the open area. "Be good and no one has to die." Some people drop immediately, losing masks in the soil and gravel paths, not thinking too hard about ruined clothes. The sound of boots crunching along the path and stomping through flower beds is easy to hear as a group of invaders make their way toward the crowd.
One other thing that is easy to hear: The music from inside the museum still plays, too loud for anyone inside to hear the commotion out here. No one knows to come to their aid.
That someone's come to steal the auction bounty is Kara's first and only thought when the gas goes out.
And why not? Had they not done the same thing to Yamagato on the night of their gala, just in a less-obvious fashion?
She steps forward to kick the can behind Yi-Min away with the insole of her shoe, turning to the young girl— Nova. Could she move in that dress? "Run inside, while there's still time." Was there any? "Find one of the Wolfhounds."
Kara turns in the direction of the footsteps that crunch their way through the smoke, her hand finding Yi-Min's and lacing her fingers through hers. Instead of dropping, she remains standing. Her other arm lifts from her side to indicate she means no harm, even though her healing wound to her shoulder strains from the motion.
It's just that surely Yi-Min's dress would make it difficult for her to drop to the ground. It's definitely not to create a time-consuming distraction to deal with, definitely not one where their standing bodies might obscure Nova's movement behind them, should she move at all.
Maybe it’s the alcohol or all the hours of drills for SCOUT, but the familiar pop-hiss of smoke doesn’t make her jump like it normally would. With glass in one hand and rose in the other, Kaylee kinda just watches the smoke billow out around her, with lips pressed together with disapproval and eyes narrowing behind her mask. After a moment of this, she goes… “Well…. Bad night for me to start drinking,” with a look at the glass. That’s about when the shooting starts, sending her to a crouch.
Downing the rest with an amendment after of, “Or good. I’m gonna go with good…”
The voice pulls Kaylee attention, head shifting one way or another to try and get a bead on it, pressing the back of her hand to her nose as she listens trying to stifle a cough. The glass is set down and the rose - after a mournful look - is tossed aside into the bushes next to her, so that she can shift to pull off her heels one at a time. Her voice is barely heard over the screaming and crying of others. “You know… this kinda tracks for me.” Heels off she snags them with one hand and the glass with the other - both potential makeshift weapons, “Can’t I just get a normal night out, where the only thing I have to worry about is if giving this guy, I really like, a rose is weird or not?”
Prepared, Kaylee sighs out, breaking the glass, “Alright… let’s do this.” Of course, the moment is ruined with a cough.
Kara Prince. Please. Yi-Min's supple red flamenco dress is literally tailor-made for flamboyant dancing. As she witnesses smoke curling out of the can Kara had just punted off, she too immediately darts a worried glance over to Nova with a similar hope that the younger girl will be able to make it away in time, intertwining her fingers into Kara's by way of calm, entirely tactile instinct.
Fear is rife inside her throat, not for her, but for the boldness of her partner. Kaylee can feel free to be as stupidly brave as she likes; those are her own choices. But her lover is another matter. Sweeping the resplendent folds of her dress into her hand so they're out of the way, she pulls the taller woman down to the ground beside her with the other with an iron strength surprising for her size. This is no time to play the hero, that grip says fiercely.
The little glass flute she had only just obtained lies abandoned in the lawn beside her, runnels of champagne draining into the grass. Out of sight, now, and out of mind.
Distantly, as Yi-Min continues to observe from her new eye-level, she feels her thoughts collect rather mournfully on a priority that doesn't make too much sense: that of small regret for the lovely beds of flowers that are being trampled by whoever the intruders are.
Perhaps it’s a surprise that Nova doesn’t scream when those cans drop at their feet or when the hiss of gas foretells the smoke that seeps from them. She looks to Kara, eyes narrowing to try to protect them from the acrid smoke’s sting. She nods, and turns.
Hopefully, despite the fact she’s in a gleaming white gown with a skirt twice as wide as she is, the smoke will protect her from the sights of those with guns. That’s the problem with smoke bombs, after all — they make it hard for everyone to see.
She hopes.
Nova grabs her skirt, hiking it up a little as she darts for the path that leads into the museum, trying to use the rose bushes and trees as cover as much as she can.
A hand can be felt wrapping around Nova's arm but not seen.
"Psst," As Becky whispers in Nova's ear the young woman vanishes from sight and Becky "appears" to Nova'a vision after the invisibility has settled over the younger. The SESA agent's hair is slightly tousled from moving through the room that had become encased in what seemed like an impenetrable fog. "Don't panic. If you run out of my reach they'll be able to see you, if you scream. They'll find us."
Blinking away tears from all the smoke, she gestures towards the exit. They should continue where Nova was headed.
The intruders walk through the group, pushing people to the ground who are too slow getting there on their own. They disappear among the smoke, among the other partygoers, positioning themselves around the groups gathered here and there. A pair of boots come to a stop near Yi-Min and Kara, close enough that they can make out the shape of them, their all black gear, the gun they have ready— but pointed at the ground. Like they're being careful about any possible stray bullets. Careful, but the threat is there all the same. Both of them know it doesn't take much to point a gun and shoot.
Another figure approaches Kaylee, a sigh barely heard behind the gas mask they wear and over the sounds of whimpering around them. "This doesn't have to be a fight. Sit down. We'll be here and gone and you can all go back to your… party." There's some disdain in that word, like this person disapproves of the event here tonight. But their personal politics are a secondary concern to the way their finger taps against the gun held against their torso.
Nova and Becky appear to be getting away, for a few moments, until one of the figures steps out of the boundary of the smoke and lifts their mask enough to shout. Instead of a command or threat, a concussive blast hits them both in the back, knocking them off their feet. The figure places the mask back into place and starts walking toward them, despite the fact that they're currently invisible to the eye.
It's with a touch of regret that Kara looks back to Yi-Min after she pulls them both to the ground. She'd intended on being a distraction, not a target, but she makes no argument or attempt to shake the grip on her hand.
Tipsy Kaylee ready for a fight was not something she was prepared for, though. She shoots a look to her through the smoke, a plan of action flashing in her eye. For a moment, she nearly acts on it, feeling herself come to her feet to wrap her arm around the neck of the man standing nearest, to use his body as a shield while shooting the intruders she could see…
But the moment passes with a flicker of her eyelashes, and the only thing she feels is Yi-Min's hand in hers— the only thing she looks at? The ground. She flinches when the blast goes off, dread pitting in her stomach.
Surely that would get security's attention? Not that the thought gave her comfort. With this smoke, the chance for collateral was high, and she held no trust proper control would be exercised before opening fire. On either side.
Nova sucks in a sharp gulp of air when Becky appears before her, but nods her understanding, trying to make her way to the doors that will lead her into the museum and to help.
So close and yet so far away.
When that concussive blast knocks her to the ground, she frowns — can he see them? Or is he just guessing based on where they were? She looks to Becky, then reaches for the other woman’s hands, to ensure she doesn’t slip out of the invisible field. With a silent cant of her head to the left, Nova indicates they should move that way — out of the man’s path as he walks toward them.
If only they can do so silently.
To help divert the man’s attention — banking on the notion that he can’t see them — she pulls a phone from her pocket (yes, the amazing ballgown has pockets) and with a shaking hand selects her music app, finding a song and then tossing it nearby onto a flower bed to their right. It lands with a soft rustle, before it begins to play loudly Danse Macabre by Saint Saens.
And then she moves to the left as quietly as she can.
As brave as this tipsy woman is, Kaylee isn’t stupid enough to go at them… especially not with all the people around her and without her best weapon. Which is a painful point right about now, as she would certainly try to take control of the situation. It felt like something was missing as she tried to mentally swipe at them.
It left Kaylee feeling utterly useless and it was like a sharp knife to the gut.
However, Kaylee offers some defiance at least. She doesn’t sit… not right away, staring at the gunman with the same contempt they have in their voice. That look doesn’t fade when she kneels on the ground, fingers tightening around the objects in her hands. Though that blast gets her to finally flinch and duck down a bit.
The perception of the blast makes Yi-Min wince, which Kara can feel in her hand, but there is otherwise no further movement from her besides her gaze slipping furtively upward to deduce more details in the men standing over them.
Likewise, her prim relief when she spots Kaylee capitulating at last is as much for the situation as it is for Kaylee. This group seems to be actively avoiding provocation, and at least pending a revelation of some far more dire goal, it’d be wise to keep it that way.
Let them finish their task and leave, her expression conveys in its lowered nonchalance.
Just like their own sabotage of the Yamagato Gala, once upon a time. Ah, memories.
Becky's grunt is uttered and she makes sure to stay holding onto Nova's arm as they crash. Eyes widen a touch as she wonders too if they had been seen or what exactly that was. Being silent had to be the key in this moment.
The young woman's genius idea has the SESA agent nodding and waiting for the signal. The loud tunes being all she needs before she too is moving to the left.
The off-key violin scratches out its devilish melody a few yards away, and the figure with the concussive voice turns their face in that direction, flattening some of the bushes and sending the cell phone skittering across dirt before the music comes to a stop.
Doors to the building open and close — no one visible going in or coming out. It’s still hard to tell how many gunmen there are, given the hazy smoke that drifts through the gardens, but at least a couple turn that way, along with the audiokinetic. “Fall back,” that figure says, their voice soft but somehow penetrating the entire area, to find the ears of all of their comrades.
The telltale tink-tink-tink sound of more cans hitting the cement can be heard, and more acrid smoke rises, stinging eyes and obscuring friend from foe.
Kaylee feels someone bump into her, footfalls hurrying away from the building and its safety. Kara feels the fabric of someone’s clothing brush her face as they too run toward the far border of the garden — would-be escapees.
It's enough to spur her to action. She'll ask here for forgiveness rather than permission. Her free arm reaches out to bearhug the legs of the passing individual, her other hand loosing from Yi-Min's to complete the tackle. It's entirely instinct— an inability to let these people sweep by unchallenged, even if it's not her event.
After all, she and her partner were having such a nice night before these people came along. It's practically personal.
As soon as the snared weight begins to timber, Kara pushes off the ground hard to complete the tackle and try to turn it into a pin. The sound of fire alarms erupting from inside the building make her tense, uncertain at first it's not another concussive wave of sound being hurled their way.
Maybe it’s the months of hand to hand training leading to her joining the force, but when bumped instinct kicks in and Kaylee lashes out. Using herself to trip up whoever is fleeing, as she attempts to hook limbs and sparkly yellow heels around fleeing legs.
Kaylee, already feeling a light buzz from the few drinks she had, can only close her eyes as she does and prays as she tries to stop at least one of them long enough for the lingering Wolfhound to show up. Especially, before she can have a chance to take out a little aggression out on them, if they are bad guys that is, cause she worked so hard to look so nice for the evening and wow someone special… even if she chickened out on what she planned.
Kara finds her tackle hits true, and her target sprawls down onto the garden path beneath her; he’s larger than her, and now that the smoke is starting to clear, she can see what there is to see of the assailant — which isn’t much. Black suits and a black gas mask keep his identity a secret — for now.
His gun arm sprawls out to try to break his fall, but luckily without his finger on the trigger, there’s no new spray of bullets across the garden and the frightened masqueraders.
The trip from Kaylee’s sparkly foot sends the would-be fleer sprawling, a feminine oof pushed out when her chest meets ground. The woman, dressed and masked in black like her partner, scrambles back up to her feet to try to run for the exit — despite having her gun on her, she doesn’t turn to shoot at Kaylee or anyone else.
On the way to the garden, patrons stagger toward the main doors, some recoiling in fear when they run into Wright. She reaches up quickly to pull her mask back. There’s no point appearing masked and armed in here, that would only serve to frighten the noncombatants. She sets the carved bull skull on a pedestal as she passes it.
Wright enters the garden with her pistol in hand but pointed at the floor. Her posture is low, poised to spring into action. She blinks at the smoke, but doesn’t raise her napkin to her face, keeping it under her right wrist while supporting her firearm. Elliot is seated in her perspective, and having him and Asi with her keeps her calm and composed.
“Oh no you don’t, bitch.” Kaylee growls under her breath as her target starts to get up, driven by the bravery (and idiocy) that comes from alcohol consumption. The woman in yellow and sparkles, surges forward to tackle the woman before she can fully get to her feet. She’ll mourn the dress later.
Asi splits from Wright's side, giving her enough space that if someone should start shooting, hopefully they'd not both be easily clipped. When they pass the first partygoers huddled on the ground, her tongue wants to reach instinctively for her native language, but her mutter is strong and clear in English. "Stay low, and head back inside."
Her eyes sweep the smoke for silhouettes of the attackers, making no loud announcement of her and Wright's presence as she creeps forward. She's uninterested in the danger it might call. Her grip remains tight around her sidearm, leaving it leveled at the ground for now.
Though Wright abandons her mask for bare face, Huruma does like an entrance. Always. Along the way to the gardens she has slipped a firearm from another; it is with it that she moves outside, held at length as her ability shudders out from its confines and unfurls. It takes a moment more for her to pinpoint the bodies that don't belong; partly made easier by several attempts from the patrons to help subdue. Because of course— these things are so often full of familiar heads.
"Have you got the back?" Huruma has a hand to her ear, fingers braced there behind her mask, voice low and gun up. Her frame is a dark length against the backlight of glassy windows; the field around her seeks out the most voilatile minds and pressures them with digging fingers of melancholy. "Keep the lot clear."
Kaylee’s new wrestling partner finds herself grappled, but she responds with a head butt, hard enough to make the already-buzzed woman’s head spin with something other than alcohol. The assailant struggles to bring the firearm up, to wedge between herself and the once-telepath. “Let go. No one’s supposed to get hurt,” she growls, the words strangely muffled and also echoing within the gas mask’s constraints.
By Kara and Yi-Min, the black-clad gunman scrambles up and away, pointing his weapon at first the couple in front of him, then up at the Wolfhounds who enter the garden. “No one needs to get hurt,” he calls out, a repeat of his partner’s words, as he retreats with slow, cautious steps backward.
As Huruma’s mental probe furls out, she can sense about three dozen frightened people she can’t quite see due to the still smoke-hazy garden, though she knows there are more beyond her reach. The assailant who yells out to them doesn’t feel all that different from invited guests — frightened, a little panicked, though the fear tastes of a different variety than the rest of the people around him. Another she senses by Kaylee’s familiar presence has that same emotional imprint — these are hardly hardboiled mercenaries.
On the fringe of her sensory range, is that one more — a little less panicked? It slips from her radar as soon as she’s aware of it.
“You sure did bring some guns to this ‘no one’s supposed to get hurt’ party,” Wright says. She scans through the smoke to try to get some kind of headcount on the invaders. The two women wrestling on the ground seem most likely to get somebody shot.
“Any chance you want to lean on that pacifist spirit of yours and drop your weapons?” She holds the cloth napkin up to her mouth, and looks at the prone gunwoman. She keeps an eye on the standing gunman through Asi’s point of view.
The headbutt manages to be effective in incapacitating Kaylee, who reels back when the world blossoms into darkness-edged pain. Luckily, the contact doesn’t break her nose, only bruises her pride… well, there might be a black eye later, too. Maybe she shouldn’t have drank… then again, she can’t help but think she was going to need a drink after this insanity.
A nicely manicured hand, presses to her reddening face while she sways a little groggily in place. “You’re fucking lucky I don’t have my ability,” Kaylee hisses back, though she doesn’t try to keep the other pinned down. Giving them a chance to flee if they can get away it seems. The former telepath is done with this shit and fights the urge just to lay down on her back on the ground.
"Lay down your weapons and nobody will get hurt." Huruma's voice precedes the command of her presence and any other security detail at her back; it also echoes Wright, more short and direct; her pistol remains leveled though at the slightest of downward angles. One hand lingers at her ear, depressing the piece behind her mask.
"Make sure the perimeter is closed." Whatever she felt slip away must have been at a distance as it is- - "Possible runner." - -if they get past the property lines, it is that much more difficult. Surely between the details they can do that much.
Those soft-boiled terrorists will soon find themselves under the idle weight of depressive emotions; the fear remains, despair and resignation somewhat… newer.
That fear is very real for Kara as she crouches, not chasing after the man who's escaped her tackle. She shifts an apologetic look to Yi-Min for her instincts, foolish and brave, and at a gesture from her partner decides to follow the suggestion put forward by the approaching agents. Her emotional register is filled oddly similar to the armed men and women attempting to flee… a keen fear of being discovered and pinned down, save for the fact it's more nervous and paranoid than a guarantee.
Asi continues to push forward even as the would-be assailants step back. The moment she has a clear shot, she doesn't intend to let them escape. Her eyes narrow through the smoke, and she continues one cautious step forward after the next. Huruma's call out is enough message for all of them, as far as she's concerned.
Outgunned and outmanned, the woman fighting with Kaylee finds her way to her knees, then lifts both hands, gently setting the gun down on the grass.
“Don’t,” she says in a warning voice to her more agitated partner, pointing his weapon at the other couple and then the Wolfhound agents.
He looks like he might give in more to that feeling of fear — desperate, irrational fear, that is — rather than the resignation that Huruma’s wave of emotion pulls on him. His hand shakes and he turns the gun on Asi, then Huruma, then himself — but only for a second.
The gun tossed to the side, he too drops to his knees.
The sweep of the perimeter finds no one else, but footprints marr the soil by the fence. Three sets coming, one set leaving. It won’t be until much later that the Museum finds itself no longer in the possession of several rare plants worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.
On the bright side, no one was (seriously) hurt, though Kaylee may find herself with a black eye and a headache for a couple of days.