Participants:
| Scene Title | Hit & Run |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Delilah has a lucky break when it comes to being targeted. |
| Date | September 20, 2009 |
Late afternoon on a Sunday is a time where people seem to be in continuous transit; SoHo these days is mostly a transit neighborhood- while people live and work here, the main streets are quite bare, and only those seeking shortcuts home seem to take them. Delilah is one of them this particular day. On her way home from some business to do with safehouses or safe-keeping, she is behind the wheel of a minivan that belongs collectively to the Ferrymen. It is old and well-used, but not ancient- it runs alright, and at least it's got airbags, if not A/C for the sticky summers.
Though waiting in the slow-going Sunday traffic can be a bother, Delilah tries to make the most of it by having the window half-down, music slipping from inside the car while her eyes stick to roaming the sidewalks and sides of other vehicles as she waits. As long as she is here, she can watch everyone else without having an excuse to stare.
There's only a few reasons for Peyton to be in SoHo, and lunch with one of her celebrity friends at the amazing Raoul's is one of them. The creme brulee or profiteroles are enough of a reason to make the trek but it's been a while since she's seen anyone besides the folk like Cardinal and Niki and Shard or those she's been sharing an apartment with, like Aaron and Gillian. The friend made it mostly through lunch before getting called away, something "urgent" from their agent. The starlet was the first of any of her celebrity friends to at least try, but Peyton's not truly surprised when she's left eating the rest of her lunch by herself — the bonus was that the bill was covered by her escaping friend.
So now she strolls slowly through the streets, in no hurry and with nowhere particular to go, sipping a frozen coffee drink through a green straw.
It would be hella nice to be cruising down the street in the 1967 black camaro he's been working on restoring and buffing up, but unfortunately…to finish repairs on something you need extra cash. Kase isn't broke but can see and wave to that state of being by now. So it is walking for now, eyeing those that pass by but mostly minding his own business. The mechanic pockets a cellphone as he walks along in a pair of dark jeans and dark green hoodie with '808' displayed on his back and a dark green and white ball cap with a H on it worn backwards. There is, of course, that dark green bandana wrapped and tied around his wrist and his backpack slung over one shoulder as he idly chews on the end of a toothpick and continues walking.
Slowly but surely, the traffic begins to move again. It starts at a crawl as the streetlight changes, cars puttering through the intersection ahead until the congestion gives way and they are able to start moving freely. Delilah is a half a dozen cars behind the light, and so when the line finally begins to move, the motorists just ahead of her are able to pass over lanes without trouble. She watches the light up above just in case, almost daring it to change to yellow as she gets nearer to the green.
Fortunately, the light does not change on her. Unfortunately, however, there is one car in the red lane that veers off of its course in coming to a halt at the intersection. A small SUV, silver, windows tinted. It careens, tires squealing onward towards the minivan's driver's side doors. Delilah hardly has time to adjust her vision onto it, much less brace for the impact. All that fills her eyes is that flash of silver, like a barracuda thrashing its tail.
SKREEEEE.
The first noise is the squealing of tires. The second is the ear-wrenching scrape of metal on metal as the car slams into the van. The third is the cars behind the van coming wildly to a halt- CRASH- one- CRASH- two- CRASH- three. They plow into each other in some shape or form, one other van tipping over onto the sidewalk as its rear jumps as soon as it hits the sedan ahead. Children wail from inside, but luckily it was the last of the three.
Of all things- the silver SUV that had bulletted ahead, crawls backwards onto the asphalt. Enough so that when its right side doors pop simultaneously, the two men that had been inside are able to stumble out of it. Hoods up and gloves- the bulge of holsters- it was not a real accident. They make for the side of the road, intent on keeping the hobbling run into the alleyway.
The van's driver door, crumpled inward with the side door, decidedly does not pop open after them.
Peyton backs up instinctively when she hears the squeal, not that it would have helped her as all she manages to do is bump into Kase and then back up into the wall of the building behind; if the car would have jumped the sidewalk, she'd just have managed to get herself pinned. Faulty instincts. "Fuck," she swears, fingers reaching into the pocket of her skinny jeans to pull out her blinged out Barbie-pink cell phone, punching the numbers for 9-1-1 and bringing the phone up to her ear. That's when she sees the men in hoods and gloves and guns and she drops the phone, connection being made already, to stare — the men looking a bit too much like her kidnappers in their hoods.
…he knows that sound. Kase's head jerks up in time to bring his hands up to catch/deflect the woman bumping into him then moving on to the wall and he rolls his shoulders quickly taking a few steps back then narrowing his eyes as he tugs off his hoodie, leaving him in a dark green t-shirt and he turns quickly to shove both the hoodie and backpack towards Peyton, not caring if they drop.
It takes the ex-ganger a few seconds before he's taking off at a run towards that damn collision, eyes widening bit. "Call 911!." Is barked out in that raspy and somewhat deep voice but he's moving rather quickly. "You ever watched a movie? CARS BLOW UP." Is yelled at a passer byer, poor guy doesn't even really notice the guys with guns and such until it is too late, focussed on dented up van.
The two out of the car remain unmolested in their getaway- only due to the guns, most likely. There are some things that nobody minds doing- but when it comes to looking more like a hit than a hit-and-run- things change.
Kase remains one of the only ones moving to help the people in the cars. In the second van, everything only seems to have tipped over, and now there is a man at the window of it speaking into the now open window. The sedan ahead is crumpled up, though the driver seems to have wrenched his door open and gotten out in the aftermath. There is smoke now billowing out of his car hood. The second sedan wrenched between Dee's van and the one behind seems to have cocked itself sidelong, the passenger side pinned by the bumper. A phone chimes on somewhere in the noisy background, and even though Peyton goes into shock, some of the cellphones are still able to be dialed.
As Kase reaches the van, the most noticable thing is that the windows have shattered, leaving a trail of glass both outside and in. Delilah's form inside the driver's seat leans off to the right, both pushed by the airbag in the door and the momentum from the crash. Her red hair billows down across her features, and there are some stray shards plainly visible in her side. Blood stains the side of her hair and neck, redness over the bared skin of her arm and leg.
If we live our life in fear I'll wait a thousand years, Just to see you smile again—
The music still trails out of the speakers, and just below that, Delilah's breath is hitched and pained, yet still whole. Perhaps she dare not try and move.
Accepting Kase's personal effects, Peyton bends to retriever her phone — a disembodied, tinny voice can be heard saying "Hello? Are you there?" She brings it to her ear and moves away from the building to look at the intersection signs. "Hi, there's a car accident, and the people who caused it ran away, wearing hoods," she murmurs, her voice shaky. She gives the street signs, and then the direction the hooded men ran off in. "I can't tell if anyone's hurt, but no one's getting out of some of the other vehicles and one of the car's on fire, please send help." She takes a few steps forward, then another, before finally hurrying forward and beginning to try to open the door of the wedged car from the outside.
That bandana usually at home around his wrist has been wrapped around his hand by now as he studies the van carefully and just frowns a little bit. He squints into the van and just swears softly. "Hey…hello in there…stay with me pretty girl…" He murmurs, reaching that wrapped out hand through the broken window, brushing a few shards of glass out the way as he unlocks and gets the dented door open with a yank and a grunt.
"Hey there pretty thing, shh…I've gotcha…" He actually pulls out a pocket knife to work on cutting a slit in the air bag and then cutting off the seatbelts. He glances over his shoulder briefly before turning back to the extracting of a woman from a van. "Damn, usually when I get my hands on a girl as fine as you they are a little more conscious, don't let me down here…I'ma getcha out." His island lilt colors his words though.
The sedan wedged between the others is off-center; when Peyton tries the door to it, it sticks for a few pulls, but provided she keeps with it, the door will at least be pulled ajar. The woman inside has unbuckled herself, and is trying to push from the inside while brunette pulls. It's a truly joint effort, as now the car next to them has actually caught on fire, rather than allude to it. Though not huge, the orange licks up at the window as the driver backs away from the crash site and onto the sidewalk.
There's a disoriented noise from Delilah as Kase speaks nearby, and she seems to register now that he is there. When he gets close enough to finish cutting the seatbelt, the redhead shifts a few inches upwards. The blood on her head comes from a flesh wound, thankfully.
Lilah's lips open and shut, and then her tongue runs out over both to wet them. there's a bit of blood there, but it seems to be from her mouth. "Don't touch m'blood." She mutters, her own accent cloudy at best.
The socialite-turn-rebel digs the heels of her foam-soled flip-flops into the ground, pulling as hard as she can, when suddenly the door manages to budge — once more the brunette falls backward, sprawling on the ground for a moment before popping back up to offer her hand to the woman inside, to help her escape the car. "Are you okay?" Peyton shouts, picking up Kase's items. She looks around the scene to see who else is in need of help. She helps the woman over to sit on the curb. "Is she okay? Can you get her out?" she yells to Kase.
"Shhhhhh…" Another soft and reassuring exhale from Kase as he hears the girl he's trying to help and then catches glimpse of the fire. "Shh-it…" He nods quickly to Delilah, doesn't try to question it, really, he just reaches out to grab her around the waist as carefully as possible, other arm will grab her under/behind the knees once he's wiggled her far enough back. Pocket knife has been pocketed again.
"I'm workin' on it!" He calls back towards Peyton, eyeing Delilah. "Talk to me baby…you got name? Just so you know, the bleedin' ting'll get all fixed up soon, this I know…we gotta move fast and it might hurt a bit though…" He takes a deep breath. He's moving quickly though because hello, he does not want to get blown up.
The woman that Peyton is helping out of the car only seems able to nod silently, though very sharply. She is only able to gather her wits about her when she is helped to the curb, muttering something in what sounds like French. Down the stretch of road that is now averting itself in terms of traffic and detours, there comes the wail of various sirens.
The mixture of voices from Kase, the distant people, Peyton, the radio- it makes for a slow time in Delilah gathering her own wits. After a few seconds of shifting her head to look at her handsome rescuer, she takes a breath in through her nose to speak. "D'lilah." As Kase starts to help her out of the car, she tries her best to be a helpful victim- making sure that she at least attempts to help herself as he does. This also puts her real training to the test- if she can stop the toxicity now in with her blood, it will dilute when she is washed off. This concentration appears on her face, and may be misconstrued as pain. It is already a testament that only the smallest bit exits on her skin. Either this, or it seems to concentrate itself on the path of least resistance when it comes to spreading.
There's a face in the crowd as Peyton looks about, trying to figure out what to do next, that draws the blood from her flushed cheeks — she's pale in a second and drops Kase's belongings once more (after having picked them up after falling to the ground opening the door). It might just be the fear and adrenaline running through her veins, or it might be a trick of memory, thanks to the masked faces that ran down the alley, but there's something about a man's face in the crowd that reminds her of a certain Irishman; the strong jaw, the Irish coloring, the way his eyes narrow when she makes eye contact with him. "I gotta go," Peyton whispers, words probably lost in the crowd's murmuring and the wail of sirens in the distance. She might have recognized Delilah from Cat's building if she got a good look at the woman's face, but all she sees is red hair and a smear of blood before she takes off running down the street, the opposite direction of the man who looks like her kidnapper, and heading for the nearest subway station.
"Ahh…here we go. D'lilah? Mmm, rolls off tongue so nice. I'm Kase okay?" Kase is mainly just trying to do what he knows how to do to keep crash victims as aware as possible. Once out of the car though, he'll look over and around the girl in his arms to make sure there aren't any bags or purses or anything that might be needed. "You need me to snag anything?" And he will if there is, awkwardly with one hand. He feels bad though a bit…those faces, he's doing his best not to hurt her by jarring any injuries.
The sweet sounds of the sirens are a godsend and then he'll notice Peyton is gone and his things are on the ground later. Right now, it is about getting the girl out of any potential blast range and wait for the ambulances. "Almost there." Backing up towards the sidewalks now.
"Yeah, that there…" There is a little backpack on the passenger seat, but nothing else. The van is meticulously and perhaps oddly- far too clean. Delilah does not seem worried about the bag right now, either. Something else considerably off, especially for a modern woman, in some sense. As soon as they get close enough to the sidewalks, Dee is the first one to try and set herself down on the curb.
"Kase?" She tries the name, pausing as she tries to look at him and bring him into focus. The result is almost a glare. "You did see'em? Who it was…" Well, maybe she is not entirely coherent.
Kase bends down, setting aside the little backpack so he can use both hands to ease the woman down on the curb, eyeing the pile up warily before looking back to Delilah, looking her over carefully and squinting, unwrapping his hand to offer the bandana. "That's it…yeah, Kase." He looks over his shoulder to see what's going on with everything else before looking back to Delilah with a hint of confusion at the almost glare. "See who? The effers with the masks and holsters who ran? Sorry baby…just got their van…it was a…" And he rattles off the model and probably year of the vehicle by reflex. "But you no worry, the doctor people be here soon yeah? Get you all fixed up."
Delilah makes a slightly unhappy noise, somewhere after both his description and the doctors- it is hard to tell which one it is for. She is able to sit up, but barely. The bandanna finds her hands with reflex when she feels the cotton. She assumes it is for the red smearing over one eye, and so that is where it heads. She knows already that she is beyond lucky. Something was watching out for her. Sirens wail all the way up to the crash site, the sounds of firemen's boots hitting the ground in succession, and the lights of the ambulance cutting as it pulls up alongside the curb where there are now several injured people sitting relatively side by side. After the awkward bit of silence where the sound drowns her out and she is dabbing at her face, Delilah finally tries to get a good look at Kase.
"…Anyone ever told you that y'kinda look like Zac Efron?" Bleeding and bruised, but still charming. Of course.
Kase settles down one knee bent to rest against the pavement as he just watches Delilah carefully through all this. Did he just…pull somebody out of van? Did he really just…oh god. He nods slowly to Delilah from time to time, he's still there.
"…" He just stares at Delilah. He really can't do anything but stare, blink those Husky blue eyes and stare some much. Then finally he replies. "…I don't sing cutie." That's all he's got to say about THAT.
"You can keep looking at me though, you've got gorgeous eyes…" Dee pulls the cotton away to peer at the stain, frowning in the process. When the EMTs hop out of the ambulance, at least one of the people sitting on the curb nearby points them off towards her, muttering something about the fact she was the one that got hit in the first place. Delilah doesn't really notice as one of them comes over to fetch her, mentally floating somewhere between staring back at Kase and hold the bandanna to her head.
An eyebrow raises as Kase idly scratches his cheek and his lips twist in a wry grin as he chuckles softly. There is something that concerns him though…the whole 'don't touch my blood' thing. On a more mundane level, there are only a few issues he can think of. But he's not a doctor. He just clears his throat and lowers his voice a tad. "Alright, the man he come now to fix you up okay? Keep lookin' at my eyes pretty red."
If only it were as simple as a disease. And even as the EMT pulls her hair back away from her face to shine a light in her eyes, there is a little pink biohazard symbol there on the back of her neck. She does not say the same to the technician- he has gloves and seems to be very careful regardless. The rattle of wheels on the roadside come next, snapping Dee out of her momentary haze.
It takes some maneuvering on the part of the EMTs and the stretcher, but they are able to get the redhead up onto it without much trouble. Her hand still clutches onto the bandanna as they buckle her in, unsure of whether to let go of it, try and give it back, or keep it. "Kase." How could she almost forget? "Thanks."
The 'mechanic' is watching Delilah like a hawk, flash of that biohazard symbol just imprints on his mind as he nods and carefully getting to his feet as the stretcher and such as things move forward, Kase just eyes the redhead and the EMTs with a small frown and the look he turns on the EMTs is cold, very cold. Almost dangerous. "Be careful, mind her head." That's all he's going to say there.
But alas, all good things come to an end…so do really messed up things. He nods slowly, and doesn't ask for the bandanna back, just thumbs the side of his nose and turns his hat around the right way so he can tip it and flash a small smile. "D'lilah…" The islander accent slipping back in there. "Y'welcome." Another glare to the EMTs and he has to take a few steps back and let them do their job.