Participants:
| Scene Title | Ho Ho Boom! |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Explosions fill the night sky, as the businessmen of the underworld set their pawns in motion, to weaken the ranks of their competitors. |
| Date | December 5, 2010 |
The vintage boutique is set in a beige storefront with large, open windows displaying three vintage clothing pieces; a blue 40's style dress, an all white zoot suit and matching fedora, and a woman's pants suit from the 50's. But the shop itself holds so much more.
Stepping in through the glass doors leads to an open floor with racks and shelves displaying clothes, shoes, records, players, art, lamps, books… anything and everything your heart can imagine. The stock shifts frequently, as new items are sold, bought, shipped, what have you. Always worth a look around. In the back of the main floor, there's a dressing room to the left and a special room to the right where the extremely rare and expensive things are kept. This room is where the alcohol is on display. It's colder in there, and darker.
The shop sign glows brightly into the night declaring Miss Aphrodisia's to be proudly here and in lucratively business. The last few customers are getting their purchases bagged before they're sent out the front door. The Christmas wreath bounces jauntily against the glass as Lexington closes it after them, setting the locks and flipping a sign in the nearby window to mark the store Closed for the night. And in time to get everyone home before curfew. They are the most law-abiding criminals you'll every find, here at the vintage shop.
"Whew! That's the last've 'em and not a moment too soon, if I do say so. SEAMUS," the Irish woman calls out toward the back of the store, "Bring up some whiskey! If I don't get a li'l mother's milk here soon I think I'll faint dead away." Which is what most people do after drinking, but semantics. She slips herself behind the counter, though, to start closing out the drawers. "Luce, ya did good work, luv. Take a load off, yeah? Have a drink."
They all need one, after the rush that is weekend holiday shopping in this city.
There's loud grunting from the back of the shop, and a loud thunk and rattle of wood and glass, with a sigh of relief from the burly Irishman. "Fuckin' A, I thought you said this was oak, Lexi! Not lead!" Straightening his back up with a wince, the Irishman grins broadly towards the front of the shop. "Brilliant idea! Luce, one whiskey or two for ya?" he asks with a laugh, rolling one sore shoulder as the jeans-and-t-shirt clad Mick heads towards the basement door, thumping loudly down the stairs.
"Ha! Thanks Lex, I'll do that." Lucille says as she let's her hair down from her ponytail. The dark strands with brown roots swings free, some falling into her face. Her light grey eyes scan the store as she grins, today was a good day of work. A good distraction from the family drama of this morning.
Coming from behind the counter. Lucille leans on the edge of it, hip out and dark brown cowboy boots crossed at the ankle. Her dark red long sleeved shirt is the kind that hangs off one shoulder, she's been rocking the one shouldered pieces lately, with her jeans dark.
"I thought they would never leave." She says softly and then Lucille Ryans is grinning to herself and ruffling her hair. Yes today was a good work day. "We're only gonna get busier." She says to the two in the shop with her. With a look over her shoulder where Seamus' voice is coming from she grins.
Give me two!" she says with a chuckle. Let's celebrate bitches~
"I lied! I like the look on your face when you're surprised," Lexi says with a crooked smile and a wink sent Lucille's way. "Seems that way. Remind me t'start drinkin' earlier in the day next weekend." She's just pulling out and locking the black cash drawer as she looks over at Lucille. "The good news bein' that we've got enough in storage t'last through the holiday season, although we might have bare shelves after… with any luck!"
Seamus stops near the door to the basement, sticking out his tongue at Lexi before grinning to the two just past the stacks of merchandise. And he lingers in the doorway for a moment, one hand on the doorknob. He takes a moment, to thoroughly appreciate the situation he finds himself in. He's in a cushy job, working in close quarters with two fun, boisterous, smoking hot girls. One of which, at least, seems to be in the practice of showing off enough shoulder to keep things interesting. He's got jobs lined up on the side and Lexi has enough "clients" to bring in a hefty amount of under the table cash. And the holiday season is approaching! For once, it seems like things are going right in the Lanes' lives.
"I think it's time for a little reorganization, m'self. Putting the big ticket items near the door and the window. Don't need to beg to get people to come in, for this season, yeah?" And he's heading down the stairs, making his way through the dimness towards the liquor cabinet. Patting himself down, Seamus pulls out a lighter to illuminate the labels of the bottles, squinting at the large selection they have. Hmmm hmmm hmm…something good, but not too good. Gotta save the good stuff for paying consumers.
"I'm game." After she gets a little bit of alcohol in her system of course. Lucille grins at Lexi and tilts her head. "This is turning out to be less job like and more fun. Thanks Lexi." She says to the redhead. "That's not me saying that I want this to be more strict. Not at all." She waves her hands in the air as she chuckles.
"We gonna get a new shipment of stuff after the holidays? How does that work anyway? Do we find people to buy things from.. or..?" she's not sure how you run an antique shop. Sighing, she looks over at the case of antique knives. Thinking briefly of the dark haired, Astor that she met before in this place. He hasn't called yet.. it's only be like a day or so anyway. She's not really stressing and then there's the whole Tahir encounter.. she's trying not to think about it honestly. It makes her head hurt.
It's a lovely night for some fireworks and a bonfire. The air outside is cold and crisp, perfect for some flames to warm everybody up, as well as a fireworks show that will be remembered for a long time to come. It will certainly be a glorious spectacle for the entire neighborhood of the Upper West Side, won't it? Yes…definitely will.
Just out of sight of Miss Aphrodisia's, a van parks itself upon the curb, resting silent for a long moment. Within, Keira is sitting at the driver's seat. She's decked out in an all black business suit and a long black trench coat, as are the other inhabitants of the vehicle. Her torso is a bit on the bulky side, though, the woman wearing a nice little gift from Daddy Walsh in the form of Dragon Skin body armor. Oh, and she's happy with her gift, too.
She turns to the three in the back, with Jason up front in the passenger seat. "Okay, boys. You know the drill. Get in there, set the C4, get out. If we can kill the fuckers who run that place, awesome. If we can't, let 'em go. They ain't important. What's important is making sure everyone sees that place light up like the Fourth of fuckin' July at Christmas. Don't fuck up, don't worry about the owners, just blow that stupid little vintage shop off the map. Got it?" She glares at her lackeys.
"Suit up, motherfuckers, it's go time." With that, she's tucking the black leather bird doctor mask over her head, one of the five she got made custom so they could see to shoot. Over this, she pulls on a Santa hat, turning a scowl to the four. "Go."
And then, the three guys are pouring out of the back with their AK47s, provided by the mastermind of this operation, brandished. Keira steps out, walking with a faint limp, but otherwise well and good and ready to kick some ass. And they're on their way toward Miss Aphrodisia's.
The passenger side door slides open with an ominous creek. The chassis shakes as four grown men and a woman exit the vehicle - Jason among them. The tread beneath his shoes grind against the parking lot tar, black as pitch, dark as the night sky above them, and as frighteningly abyssal as the mask draping his face. He wears a beaked facade, and beneath it a black cloak drapes the Kevlar armor covering his chest, back and sides, along with the Remington 870 ETS sawed of 12 gauge shotgun with dual assault pistol grips - only the best whippet stock gun there is from Elite Tactical - dangling from a shoulder strap.
But not everything's a mystery behind that black cloak. Dangling just past the reach of the cowl, a barely seen black matte FN 5.7 series cop-killer with an extendable 30 round clip in the butt - 31 if you count the round in the barrel -swings in the vice grip of his left hand. It's even fitted with a bright halogen bulb at the front, and of course the serials have been scratched off. I mean come on, if you're going to do a a job - do it right.
"Yeah," he says to Keria, closing the door as he walks forward a few steps. "Let's do this."
"Well, Seamus, that's why you're not runnin' the business. I have glass windows. Ya put the expensive shite up there and we'll wake up with shattered glass and a brick in its place," Lexington says as she gestures toward the windows up front. And when she looks that way… there comes quite a sight to see, to be sure. But when you're a gal who's been chased by drug runners and well… nazis, this sort of situation becomes old hat. Quite like the old hats she has hanging next to a beautiful 1940's style, polka dot dress in the front window.
"Seamus," she calls out, toward the back, "Company comin'!" And she ducks down behind the counter. But this isn't to hide, oh no. This is to grab the pair of shotguns she has stored under there. And when she pops back up, one is wordlessly tossed Lucille's way. Here's hoping she's a good catch. And then she hunkers down behind the counter, gun at the ready and aimed toward the front. After all, these could be some stupid pranksters trying to have a jolly holiday. But with their propensity for… making friends, she's not betting on it.
Oh no she didn't.
When Lucille hears what Lexi says, she peeks out towards the window and blinks. "What the fuck." she says in disbelief. This is like New Jack City or something. With a sigh, she catches the shotgun, quite gracefully has she handled one of these before? Checking the ammo, she gives Lexi a sidelong glance as she ducks behind the counter, not to far from her. But not to close.
"This has something to do with the basement, doesn't it?" she shakes her head, she knew it! With one hand, she holds the shotgun and takes her locket with her other and quickly kisses it. "You guys seem pretty prepared." She says loud enough for Seamus to hear. What the hell has she gotten herself into?
"Friends of yours?" she says as she thinks about the masks. Hmmm, creepy that's for sure. Too bad, nobody in this store is a pussy.. they're too hardcore for that. Checking the ammo again, she looks towards Lexi. "What's our plan? Shoot em and take em for questioning.. or.." she looks out towards the window again. "Kill shot."
"Oh fuckin' hell! On it!" comes Seamus' muffled cry from downstairs, after only the briefest of pauses. Thank god they've prepared for those bastards to find them again. After being chased across all of Europe, almost being blown up by the mysterious group, time and again, it was just a matter of time before the Irish pair were tracked down again. So much for their covers.
Seamus drops the whiskey bottle back into the wooden case, and slams the doors shut, latching them. He hefts the clanking box under one arm, and books it in three quick steps to the cage hidden in a corner of the room. There within, he peruses the armory, eyes narrowed…and grins. He has to admit, he kind of missed this. A belt of flash bangs is thrown over his neck, and two assault rifles are hung across his broad shoulder, for the arm not carrying that case of alcohol, with a third grabbed up in his free hand. Then he's booking it up the stairs, taking them two at a time, trying to make up for lost time spent getting ready. Here's hoping the fun hasn't already started!
Oh yes, they're The woman can be heard, speaking behind that leather beak mask of hers as she gestures toward the door. "…fuckin' get your asses up there and open the god damn door. Walsh is gonna be pissed if this shit goes wrong, and if he comes after my ass, I'm going to come after your balls. Don't fuck up! Get the fuck in there!"
And then, those three thugs in their masks and black clothes are storming the door, firing through the glass and into the shop. This will have to be quick, and they know it. And Keira's come through so many times for them, and she expects payment for that. So there the three thugs are, swarming in and happily aiming gunshots toward those they can see.
The shortest masked figure is heading up the back, her blue eyes watching through the mask as her boys do their thing. "Sexy bird, you get to be behind them. Kill 'em, or get them the hell away from the supportin' walls so I can get this shit set up." Even as she speaks, she's aiming a shot toward the counter with her own AK-47, right over one of her thug's ears.
Jason reaches the curb and raises the Five-Nine in his hand, scattering a dozen hollow point SS198LF armor piercing bullets through the expanse of glass before him. Even from a distance of more than 30 meters away from the shop, the bullets slice through the window panes like hot coals through a tub of butter. And from left to right, even through the doors, he lets a swath of bullets break every piece of glass attached to front of the store. They blow past, enter the building and spray dimples into the walls, exploding mannequins, and shredding register counters.
Mental note: nineteen shots left before changing rounds.
For a moment Jason almost lifts his right hand, entertaining the thought of tossing the command for concussion grenades. But he's not in the military anymore. He's in the wastelands of a forsaken city, preparing to apply C4 to building.
"Why not just blow the sides in?" He casually asks Keria. "Crossing that threshold without reconnaissance is a bad idea."
"Luv, they're carryin' AK-47's. They hit you with a bullet from them, you're dead and that's the end've it. Ya think this is a questionin' situation?" In Lexi's world… someone tries to kill you, well, the gloves are off then.
From her hiding place, no one can see the moment her eyes go white and she slips into her precognitive trance. But just before Keira fires toward her hiding place, there's a shot fired toward the torso of the nearest goon and Lexi is moving to better cover while Keira is shooting at her old one. She might be able to get used to seeing the future.
"Luce! Shoot and move!" After all, there's a million things to hide behind in the crowded shop, from trunks and furniture to the rows and shelves and displays.
It's a good thing they have insurance.
"Motherfucker. Lucille swears as the bullets begin to pour into the shop. She quickly ducks down further and then she's taking a quick shot at another of the goons. Her eyes narrow as she takes Lexi's direction and she dive rolls behind one of the huge old trunks not far from the counter. Without looking, she puts the shotgun over her head and fires again. Wincing at all the noise, but she grits her teeth and moves again. A growl as moves and then spins quickly, hiding amidst the many things piled upon one of the shelves in the store. It's actually a really big shelf.
Please don't fire me, please don't fire me.
She thinks as she rears back a few paces. Shotgun in hand and she flies at the shelf. It rocks dangerously and Lucille swears before she puts the shotgun down, bullets flying around her. As she braces herself on another shelf behind her and pushes with her feet the bigger shelf. "Take.. this.. fucking assholes!" she ends up screaming from the exertion and .. oh well what do you know. Thugs, meet Mr. Big Shelf. He's falling down towards you now..
Grabbing her shotgun, she quickly rolls away and eyes Seamus and Lexington. "Fuck." Is all she says as she keeps low and hidden. No getting shot tonight please.
Antique furniture and expensive clothing goes up in sprays of wood splinters, glass shards and clouds of fiber from Jason's barrage of bullets. As well, as the crash and flying pieces of shelf from Lucille's tactic. When onslaught stops, there's briefly an impenetrable haze of debris floating in the air at the front of the shop.
"HEADS DOWN!" It's in that moment that Seamus breaks into the open air of the main floor, assault rifle swinging up against his shoulder, and he swings the barrel of the gun in the general direction of the front door, where the masked thugs are funneling through. The return volley creates a much more focused cloud of splinters around the intruding party, and on of the front thugs stops in place, ducking down under the covering fire. Another gets that santa hat shot right off as he dives for cover.
Seamus hits the ground behind a heavy shelf, grinning at Lucille and sliding the gun across the floor to her. "Nice one!" he calls. With his free hand, he grabs a flashbang off his belt and, with a practiced throw, lobs it over the many rows of merchandise. It clunks against the ground, rolling right towards the group of thugs, spinning along the hardwood.
KA-BANG!
The goon that Lexington shot at is one of the lucky ones; he was dumb and brought Kevlar that has already been shot at a few times. The ceramic plate is already cracked. Sadly, the blast from Lexington proves to be far too much for his flawed armor to bear, and it shatters, leaving the man with a bit more hole in his gut than he should have. Couple that with the fact that there's a shelf falling on him, and he's…well, pretty well dead. His gun is snatched up by Keira, who slings it over her back.
Always good to have extra.
"Fuckin' pussies, these are three people! Kill the motherfuckers or run them the fuck off!" She shouts over the gunfire, as she unleashes another volley of fire, still just outside of the shop. This gives her enough time to turn and duck, avoiding the blindness that has the two thugs already in the shop shooting their guns off blind and deaf. They're rather helpless, right now.
Keira didn't avoid the ringing in her ears, though, or the headache that came with it. Even so, she keeps on chugging, raising back to her feet and aiming shots through the doorway, right toward where that stupid grenade man was last.
Jason sighs and presses forward. This wasn't supposed to turn into a Clint Eastwood movie. It was supposed to be in and out. And nowhere in Keira's sales pitch, when she fluttered her eyes and said "let's blow up an antiques shop," was there mention of shotguns - in shop owner's hands -and a risk of having his face blown off.
Another Eighteen shots whip out, cover fire for his little trouble maker, making sure to pin down those shooters hiding behind obstacles and to smoke through any unfortunate shopkeeper with his or her head sticking out at an inopportune moment.
Click. Slide. Click.
Jason reloads another 30 round clip into the chamber. He hasn't touched his sawed off yet, and hopefully wouldn't have to. A short range weapon of that caliber would mean that he'd have to walk inside that death trap to use it - and that would make him very, very angry.
"And you wouldn't like me when I'm angry," he says softly before adding another 5 rounds into the building. "HURRY UP AND SET IT!"
Adrenaline pumps through Lexington's system, making her sharper, more on edge, and making her power go a little haywire. While sometimes, it seems like she's reading their minds, her shots firing as if she knows exactly where they're heading. But other times, it just makes her look a little crazy, shooting toward where they will be, or would have gone, if someone hadn't been shooting there. Living in a bit of a timeskip, Lexington is having a hard time telling now from thirty seconds from now, but it does give the goons the impression that someone in there is eerily in sync with their movements.
And it's just intimate knowledge of her surrounding that keeps her moving through the shop, from cover to cover, heading toward the back. "Luce!" She calls to the other woman, "Follow me!" Seamus likes to shoot things the most, after all.
Seamus's head instinctively ducks as the wild gunfire goes off over his head, and he has to wince and blink at the spots in his eyes and the sudden headache the flashbang gives him. At least he's better off than the poor saps in the middle of it all. Keira's bullets ping off the metal shelving unit he's crouched behind, and one even tears through a corner, leaving a hole near his right temple. Gulp! That was close!
Keeping down as much as possible, after drawing the fire with his spectacular entrance, Seamus wrenches open the liquor crate, pulling out one of the cheaper bottles of whiskey. His teeth are put to work, pulling out the cork of the whiskey bottle, and tearing off his t-shirt sleeve, before he starts to stuff the bottleneck with the cloth. The invading group is given a few less-hectic moments, which the thugs take in earnest.
Only, running into a cluttered shop with a huge beak obstructing the ground isn't so good for your shins, as the thug in the lead learns as he runs smack into a coffee table and, with a cry of pain, topples over it onto his face, his knee crashing through the glass top. Ow, that's an artery he just lacerated. At least he had a tough mask protecting his face.
Ducking and dodging the oldest Ryans girl quickly gives the thugs the finger and hurries after Lexington. Her hair matted to her face by some sweat on her forehead. She quickly wipes it away with her elbow, firing another shot to keep them at bay behind them. She doesn't look behind her, but there in front of her lays a huge pile of debris, on the side an over turned trunk.
With the grace that she's gained from all her years with gymnastics. Lucille takes one hit, using the trunk as a base to propel herself through the air. She's airborne a few seconds, her legs wind milling as she holds onto the shotgun tightly. Hair flying in the wind. Yes.. make time go slower and put the dramatic music on hoez.
She falls back to the ground, closer to Lexington ending in a roll. Hair in her face, mouth, everywhere. She shakes it away and looks at Lexington. Her look saying it all.
Well?
And hurry she is. Still unleashing fire upon the trio to the best of her abilities, Keira takes the opportunity provided by her goons offering cover fire, and the now cleared path to the supporting wall. A few shots are taken to Keira's chest, but that vest isn't going anywhere, and neither is she the woman even getting a nice, bloody gunshot wound in her arm with a bit of a shouted curse; but that's nothing compared to what Walsh will do to her if she fucks up. She keeps going, shooting as she goes.
The goons are still stunned by the flashbang, but they have enough of a mind to offer cover fire while their leader lady is doing her thing. As well as shouting and running into things and lacerating arteries and shit. Not that Keira cares, they're disposable in the grander scale of things. She reaches the wall in question, and begins to pull out C4, which she begins setting up in earnest, a grin on her face. A shot is fired toward where she's certain Seamus is located, even as she hooks up the wires just right. And a grenade is left next to those bricks, just for good measure.
"Okay, get the fuck out!" She screams this to the thugs, even as she scoots out the doorway, taking another shot to the back. Thank god for this body armor. She must remember to kiss Walsh.
Jason winces but a moment from outside the shop as a flash goes off inside the building. It's not the explosion he's been waiting for. It's a kind of trouble. Grabbing more tightly the grip of his pistol, he begins to take a step back, carefully assessing the situation. Sure, he could easily step into the fray and make a plan to defend himself, not a soldier, but as an Evolved. But the risks weren't worth it. He could accomplish the same task with half the effort by simply waiting outside and providing cover.
Another Dozen shots pop off just before Keria sounds the retreat - mission accomplished - and then another dozen more after that. "One in the chamber," Jason says to himself, slowly backpedaling toward the van. "One in the clip." Without a second thought to swap clips, safety's sake, he simple holsters the cop-killer and swings the Remington 870 sawed off across his chest and into his hands.
He pumps the menacing gun before popping open the side door. A few steps later and he's at the driver's side, door open, starting the ignition with the set of keys left dangling from the starter.
"Get your ass over here," he shouts at whoever is left alive. "We gotta move!"
When Lucille reaches her, Lexington grabs onto her, almost as if just checking to make sure that's really her. There's a glance toward the front, someone setting us up the bomb, at least one goon left, and Seamus, who she apparently trusts to save his own ass. Or something.
Her eyes are whited over as she drags Lucille to her feet and runs them toward the basement door. They have to leave cover for that, but Lexi keeps herself between her employee and the bullets. Whether or not she knows that bullet is going to come their way or not is hard to say, but she twists enough at the last moment to make it hit her in the arm instead of something more serious just before she shoves Lucille through the door to the basement, herself following a moment later. She does leave the door standing open, though.
When the girls get down stairs, Lexi shoves Lucille into a protected corner, ducking after and looking… well, like she's about to pass out. And that's not from the blood loss, that's from the haywire superpower.
Seamus pokes his head out from behind the desk as he lights up his molotov, eying the front door, his arm cocking back… But Keira's shot nicks his ear, and he flinches in pain, whipping his head around with murder in his eyes. Only to see the smallest bird-faced intruder going back to setting Seamus' favorite toy on the wall of Lexi's shop. A compound that he's more familiar with than the whiskey in his bottle. And now that his attention is drawn to it, a malicious grin flashes over his face. If he's not getting out of this unscathed, he'll make damn sure that none of them are.
As Keira turns away from her job of wiring up the C4, she'll get to see an awesome sight: A molotov cocktail flying right towards her face… Though it misses by a hair's breadth, smashing against the wall behind her, bathing her planted explosive and her whole body in flame. There will be singed hair, for sure, but thank God for that mask.
And with that, Seamus is up and booking it towards the basement stairs after Lexi and Lucy, dropping his empty assault rifle on the floor and bringing his other up to bear. Not on the front door, not on the flaming bird-woman, but on the spot on the wall, burning from whiskey and ignited C4. When he gets to the doorway, he unleashes a spray of bullets.
C4. As an explosive, it's so widely used, not only because it's very powerful and moldable, but because it's incredibly stable. Physical shock won't set it off, and heat will just cause it to burn like a match. However, heat and a shockwave, like that of a bullet striking it, is another matter all together.
KA-BOOOOOOM!! Far earlier than any of those bird-folk expected, the supporting wall of the shop disintegrates in a sudden shockwave of fire and noise. Everyone who's still in the shop, namely everyone except Jason, is in for a rollercoaster. The shockwave rockets through the basement, popping some eardrums and knocking Lexi and Lucille over into their corner and onto the hard cement. Seamus is blasted down the stairs, possibly cracking a few ribs and getting a concussion in the process, landing in the darkness below. The thugs and Keira are not so lucky. A flying brick takes off one thug's mask as well as his face, another is sent tumbling backwards, and Keira is knocked off her feet, flying headfirst into the wall beside the front door, knocking her completely unconscious.
Following the explosion, comes a rumble that screams out Not Good. The shop, two stories tall and surrounded on both sides by equally tall buildings, lights up the night for a moment, before it topples sideways onto itself. Brick, plaster, and wood falls inwards in a crushing display, and the whole shop starts to come down like a house of cards, only with a roar of utter destruction, coming down with body-crushing force. Survival is /very/ unlikely.
Thankfully, that sturdy front wall acts as a shelter for Keira from the worst of the falling debris. Rubble falls over her, cracking a few ribs with the sheer amount of force that comes down on her, though she receives the least of it. Her thugs aren't so lucky; they're good and dead, crushed beneath the building. Only Keira, her bird mask still intact, has survived this ordeal. Bloody, with cuts and bruises and a nice concussion, Keira isn't nearly as badly off as she could be. She could've landed a little more inside of the building, and that would've been bad.
Jason leaps out of the car, running across the street to survey the damage; Keira is thankfully found rather easily, and quickly pulled from the rubble by the stronger man. Then, the tiny redhead is carried off into the much emptier van, laid in the passenger's seat, and Jason is happily driving away from this mess.
Thankfully, that sturdy front wall acts as a shelter for Keira from the worst of the falling debris. Rubble falls over her, cracking a few ribs with the sheer amount of force that comes down on her, though she receives the least of it. Her thugs aren't so lucky; they're good and dead, crushed beneath the building. Only Keira, her bird mask still in tact, has survived this ordeal. Bloody, with cuts and bruises and a nice concussion, Keira isn't nearly as badly off as she could be. She could've landed a little more inside of the building, and that would've been bad. At least her pretty face is intact.
Jason leaps out of the car, running across the street to survey the damage; Keira is thankfully found rather easily, and quickly pulled from the rubble by the stronger man. Then, the tiny redhead is carried off into the much emptier van, laid in the passenger's seat, and Jason is happily driving away from this whole insane mess. Way too much insanity here.
And so, with Miss Aphrodesia's demolished and Daniel Walsh's 'message' spread, the fireworks and bonfire for the evening have concluded. Merry Christmas, Seamus and Lexington Lane; you get a demolished front for your business for the holidays.
Ho ho BOOM, mother fuckers, as Keira would be gleefully shouting, were she conscious at the moment.
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