I'm Not Done


dutch_icon.gif mortimer_icon.gif carrie_icon.gif coren_icon.gif

Cameos by

abby2_icon.gif adam_icon.gif

Scene Title I'm Not Done
Synopsis Mortimer and Dutch duke it out on a rooftop in the Rookery. Mortimer nearly wins until he has a run-in with a grenade. Adam watches from the live webcast in Japan until Coren disables the camera following Carrie's intervention. Abby is called for some much-needed healing.
Date May 15, 2009

The Rookery

After the bomb, Staten Island grew to become a haven for undesirables. If the Island is their home, then the Rookery is their playplace. Equal parts gritty and decadent, it boasts dark alleys, bright lights, and every pleasure that one could imagine. Provided you know where to ask, of course.

Some areas have fared better than the rest of the island; some have fared far worse. For each well-tended brothel or gaming house, there's at least one creaky, crumbling structure left over from the days of pre-bomb suburban glory.

The population is considered universally distasteful, even by much of the rest of Staten Island. Criminals, refugees, victims of radiation poisoning… Those who have nowhere else to go often end up here. The most common method of getting out is to have your body dropped in the river, followed closely by being left wherever it is you got killed.

Good luck.

It's the afternoon, the sun is still up, and the air is filled with the smell of charcoal for a few blocks, the smoke suppressed by the winds of the rooftop.

Dutch's inbox has been spammed again, but this time it's a lot less immature, coming from some random stolen wi-fi connection. and a made up email address.

"Me and you are gonna fight to the death, swords, no guns, no armor, no shirts, it's a fight between men, over one woman. Well, over two women, here's a little incentive…"

The picture of a young business woman with gag in her mouth and a black blindfold on then appears in the email.

"Show up at the following address, if you try anything, she goes booooommmm!!!!111!!!" He types, quite enthusiastically.

Going through the theater, everything seems fairly normal, not a henchman in sight. But then there are red arrows stuck to walls, leading all the way up to the roof, where one will find Mortimer standing in a 40x40 area surrounding by a ring of hot coal, holding his sword in his right hand (Odd, because he'd been favoring his left hand in their previous fights), with another sword laying on the ground about twenty feet from him. He's not wearing a shirt, his grenades are missing, and his entire body is covered in very dark green, almost scale colored non-euclidean art, making him almost unrecognizable if Dutch didn't already know it was him, and he has some sort of black collar with a little box strapped to his neck.

The second most obvious things one notices on the roof right behind him, is the woman tied to a pole right on the edge of the roof, with a silvery ring around her neck that looks like some unidentifiable piece of tech, and about 20 feet from her, on another section of the edge, is another pole with a black helmet impaled on it, and a red number 4 in the front.

One not-so-noticeable detail is a biker dressed in all black standing on top of the entrance to the roof, holding a camera pointed at the ring, with a red 12 on his helmet. "Yo! This is DJ 12, commin' to ya live from The Rookery. I'm streamin' this live on the Internet, the battle of love, destiny, and ultimate fate! First, the Destroyer of the Third Dimension, the Bringer of Good Times, and our Glorious Leader, *bleep*." He presses a button right next to him, censoring himself. "And then we have, a Total Asshole, a Cop, Stealer of Guns, Duuuutch! Hey, where is he anyway?"

But unlike 12, Mortimer is not smiling, he is not having fun, he just looks ready to kill someone, gripping his sword tightly, waiting.

It's time!

This was like, stupid. It was approximately ninety times more stupid than that shit with the rock concert, but Dutch did it anyway. He had a gun built just to kill Mort, but well he couldn't use that right now. So he parks his van downstairs, he'd already squirreled his gear away, and slips from the cab.

Mort hadnt told Dutch he was providing the swords, and Dutch didn't own a sword so he brought what he did have. Its called a Riot Lance, and he'd gotten it some time ago with the intention of using it for boar hunting. Dutch had never gone boar hunting, well he still hasnt so this is the first time he's actually had a semi legitimate excuse to use the damned thing.

"You're a jackass and a coward, you know that?" Dutch is far from pleased, but here he is. Wearing just a pair of Crye pants, some beat up combat boots and holding that spear. "I hope you know I'm gonna fucking kill you, you sick sadistic fuck. You should be ashamed of yourself, you know that!"

Adam is in Japan. It's rather early there, but this is an interesting thing that got sent to him. It's not quite how he imagined this all playing out, but he did set these things into motion. He leans back and takes a bite out of some pocky.

Mortimer just stares, eyes silver and lifeless, at least until his lips gradually turn up into a smile. "I was playing before, see? But you didn't wanna play, you didn't wanna fight me, you didn't wanna follow the rules. I would have gotten you to play eventually, but then I met her. She chose you over me, so now all I have to do is prove that I'm better, all I have to do is kill you." Suddenly, the purpose of the thing on his neck is obvious, it's a voice changer, making it sound like he has at least 5 unearthly voices at once, none his own.

He walks from side to side, then stops again, nodding over at the helmet. "That's four's head." Then he nods over at the woman. "And that's some woman. You get both if you just fight me, win or lose, they get released after the fight. One of my men will release my device from her neck if you manage to kill me, but if you break the rules her head goes wee wee wee all the way to the street."

Then, without warning, he charges and attempts to swing a violent slash across Dutch's torso. This slash is harder, faster, and far more calculated than when they first fought. "Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, I'm not left handed."

Sharp eyes, are hard to really anticipate. Its so difficult to know what every bit of you is doing, so its never clear what tips off Dutch but either way he sees the slash coming. He doesn't even have time to get the sheathe of his lance off, he just steps in. That lance hurtles upwards, aimed not at the blade but at Mort's right hand. He doesn't care if he gets to use his spear, he just doesn't want Mort using that goddamn sword!

While researching the case she was given by her new boss, Carrie has somehow come across the video. Sitting forward in her chair she squints at the screen for a long moment. "Well now… Staten Island." Then she sees a familiar face, Dutch. Where had she seen him? Then it dawns on her, he's a sniper. A well known one at that.

Carrie quickly shoots off an email and a text message to her boss, Len. 'Headed to Staten Island.. Reason why, link in email.' She half watched the video as she pulled on her black BDU pants, her old worn lucky combat boots and a black t-shirt. Double shoulder holster is thrown on, another tucked at her back. Knife in a thigh pocket. Her gear is quickly thrown into the jeep, with one soft rifle case lovingly placed within and she's speeding her way to the shore hoping she can get a boat across.

Hypocrisy. That's what this is. All the time he spent lecturing his partner on going to Staten Island has come to this — Coren Shelby is on Staten Island. He could try convincing himself that it's all for her own good, but he knows damned well it's not. It's not for his good either. Dutch or Mortimer are going to get themselves or others killed. Serve and protect right? Who he's serving, on the other hand, he can't really decide.

Of course, if you're going to Staten Island, it's ill advised to look like a cop. There's no trench coat, no suit. Just a pair of raggedy, torn jeans, a plain t-shirt, and a ratty old plaid coat. Despite the bit of a disguise, he's still packing. He has a baton up his baggy sleeve which otherwise appears to house a bum arm, a P228 tucked into the back of his jeans, and a Bersa Thunder .380 in his ankle holster. There's no way he's heading onto Staten Island without a number of weapons tucked away. That's just stupid.

So why's he here? Cassidy went to Dutch. An early lunch, the desk sergeant told him. Early lunch indeed. Ever since, while Cassidy is resting, he's gone off to follow the man. Well, he had to find him first, which took some doing, but eventually he found him, and he followed him. Getting to Staten Island, on the other hand, was a trick. And an expense. Not that he wasn't expecting that. Why else would he carry a hundred dollars with him?

Now he's the one taking the early lunch. Coren arrives in time to watch Dutch enter the building, and he waits a minute before entering himself, slowly making his way up near the roof. He'll listen for now, before rising slowly, baton slinking down his sleeve into his hand. If he's going to go up there, he's going armed, even if only for melee.

Damn, it's far too early to start losing limbs! He moves his left hand to grab his arm, unable to properly stop himself with the amount of force he's using, he stops just short of getting his hand cut clean off, instead getting his wrist slit. "Damnit! Already." He starts taking steps back, watching his wrist begin bleeding rapidly. "Guess I should tell you why the charcoal is here now."

He cautiously and quickly steps back to the edge of the ring after dropping the sword, then presses his wrist down into the burning coal with a loud scream. When his wrist is pulled up, it's burned, and he's breathing heavily, sweating already, but the bleeding has stopped.

"If we… get something cut off… don't use that as an excuse to stop fighting…"

Dutch casts the Lance aside with a grunt, before reaching into the small of his back to produce his trusty Rat-3. It had once been a beautiful blade, but years of absolute abuse had removed most of its pretty finish. Not that the blade was any duller for it.

By the time the lance hits the ground, he's away. Boots throwing gravel into the air as he pours on a dead sprint, fully intending to tackle Mort and drive him to the ground. To get him where Dutch knew he could dominate, the clinch. Its a bull rush, an effort to drive the fight to an early end.

Adam frowns at the break in the action in his hotel room. He takes another bite of pocky and says, "In my day, you didn't waste time talking to your opponent during a duel." he shakes his head.

DJ 12 is suddenly speaks up for the home viewers again, "Daaaamn! Glorious Leader, that's some crazy shit! Uh oh, Pig's gonna trample you!"

Mortimer suddenly jumps up from his crouched position, charging for Dutch at the same time, seemingly going for the same maneuver. "You'll really die for her, eh? She means that much? Well that's too bad, you don't have the mental facilities to comprehend her beauty!" Then he stops, the charge was feignt, he quickly stands up straight and attempts to slam a kick right into Dutch's face, attempting to his momentum against him. Of course, this leaves his other leg in a vulnerable position.

Amazing what a hefty bribe and a sway of hips can get you, Carrie got herself safely across easily enough and even her Jeep what luck is that? As the boat makes it's way across, she taps the top of her steering wheel impatiently. What is it about time slowign down when your in a damn hurry. She slaps the wheel impatiently. "Can't you move this rusty bucket any faster?!?" She only gets a mutter in reply and she heavily sighs.

Eventually though, she reaches the shore. No sooner does the ramp drop that she steps on the gas and speeds out into crappy streets of the island.

Just short of The Rookery she comes to a stop, she eyes the buildings around it. Spotting a larger building she pulls out her gear and hurries into the broken rundown building, working up to the top of the building where she can get a good look at the Rookery's Roof.

Coren slowly and quietly makes his way up onto the roof, listening to DJ 12's little speech and eyeing the camera. So this is being recorded? How wonderful. He stays out of sight for now, taking a peek out from behind an old ventilation duct every now and again. Apparently, his fears were not unfounded after all.

The knee lands, with an audible crack. Sadly for Dutch, thats not very awesome. He goes skidding across the rooftop, stunned for just a moment. He flips that knife, nearly blindly before letting it fly not at Mort but at DJ-12! Mortimer hasn't been forgotten of course, but its with a wavering stance Dutch rises. Blinking just a few times before lifting a hand to wipe his mouth and spit off at the coals. "Come on you fucker."

Snkt, the knife goes clean through DJ 12's shoulder when he sees it coming and tries to get out of the way. "He hit me! Oh god, there's a knife in me! He quickly sits the camera near the edge of the platform so it can continue viewing the fight, then he starts freaking out as he tries to figure out just how to deal with a knife in his shoulder.

"You stabbed an innocent man. He wasn't in this fight." Mortimer says very seriously, his tone and gaze suddenly growing dark again. He approaches, he doesn't run, he just approaches and slams his fist forward as if he's gonna punch Dutch in the face, then pulls it back at the last second and instead goes for a crotch shot. "Last chance to go back to swords!"

Adam shakes his head from his hotel room, "Oh, bad form Dutch, bad form." he lets out a bit of a breath, "Attacking spectators has never been allowed." he pauses as there's a knock on this door, "No I don't want my bloody bed turned down, come back later."

The crotch shot is mean, but this is somewhere Dutch has protection. Its not really armor, its saddle padding so the punch finds a mixture of padded goatskin beneath 500d ballistic nylon and thigh. Immediately, Dutch goes on the offencive. A heavy swing pours down from overtop, as Dutch swings for the fences! "Fuck you!" Fighting dirty, sure why not right? Bombs were dirty.

Mortimer gets thrown for a loop, stumbling and holding his head after Dutch's swing slams into him. He has double vision for a moment, shaking his head as he tries to focus again. "Do you really want her that badly? Or maybe you're fighting for something else? You don't have fun when you fight, you don't enjoy our meetings. Why are you wasting your life with things you don't want to do? Why don't you just join me, and be my second in command?"

He makes the offer again, slowly moving in a circle, eyeing the sword, but it's hard to tell with no pupils or irises in general. Then, he goes for it, he runs for a sword and dives to try and grab it in a roll.

Carrie moves at a crouch across to roof to kneels down at the edge, keeping out of sight behind a crumbled bit of wall. The soft rifle case she has with her is unzipped to reveal a sniper rifle. It's her own homemade piece of heaven, her baby. She works to chamber a round, she has four shots, before resting it on top of the wall. She works to suppress the adrenalin rush and the touch of fear she always feels in these moments. Resting her hip against the wall to steady herself, she looks through the scope at the fight a little below her and across from her. She slowly focus' her scope on a target. Mortimer. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly her mind focusing on the fight, watching it through her scope. Watch and wait til the last possible moment.

The baton is stuffed as far into his jeans pocket as it will go as Coren draws his P228, creeping along towards the back of the downed DJ 12 and the camera recording this travesty. A knife-wound to the shoulder. That's not fatal, not unless it goes untreated long enough for the man to bleed out. He reaches from behind with his left hand to grab DJ 12 around the neck and pull him back towards the old ducts he was hiding from. The firearm in his right hand will be used to invite the man's silence.

Dutch rushes after with a low grunt, no response, no silly banter. He just makes a bum rush again, leaping after Mort to try and beat him to the sword. He doesn't have any other knives, he doesn't have a backup gun hidden about his person, he had played somewhat affair expecting a weapon check. So when he rushes, its knowing that this is an all or nothing proposition.

Unfortunately, soccer doesn't involve a whole lot of jumping and grabbing, and Mortimer wasn't a goalie. Dutch beats him to the sword, prompting Mortimer to roll out of the way, popping back up, crouched on one knee. "I have so much to offer you. Complete freedom, power, four's number, fun. We have our laws, no stealing for profit, no killing the innocent without a very good reason, most of the time. It doesn't have to be like this, you can give up the cop woman, join me, and it'll all be over! You don't have to die here."

Meanwhile, 12 is struggling, but the threat of a gun causes him to stay still, whispering, "You can't kill me, if Mortimer dies and I'm dead, then the bomb can't be disarmed."

"Death before dishonor."Was that macho enough, Dutch sure thought so! He grabs the sword, only to fling it outside the ring. His second attack isnt far behind, sweeping in low now in an attempt to scoop Mort's legs up in his arms. He needed to get this on the ground, he needed to cuff the bastard after beating him stupid. "Stop resisting god damnit!"

It's hard for Carrie to just sit there while a fellow sniper is getting his ass kicked. "Come on. Show him up. Beat his ass." She murmurs softly to herself in her own need to encourage Dutch. She keeps Mortimer as her main focus, ready to attempt to take him down if things go so very south, but til then….. Wait, what was that? She moves her rifle to see the camera man being drug off. She purses her lips. Somethings up, but not her problem at the moment. She swings her focus back to Mortimer and the fight.

Coren gets 12 to where he intends and then slips his gun back in his belt and slips off his jacket. "I'm going to remove the knife and do what I can for your wound, and then you're going to tell me about this bomb, you understand? And I need you to be quiet. This is going hurt like a bugger." The good news is that Coren can throw his weight around, and he leans in to pin DJ 12 against the duct, wadding up the sleeve of his plaid jacket to shove in the other man's mouth in order to silence what is likely to otherwise be a loud cry of pain.

Adam shakes his head, "Bugger. Let him get the sword." he lets out a sigh as he bites down on another stick of pocky, "Ah well, it was a good try Mortimer. But I'll know in the future to hire more reliable help."

Mortimer's legs are grabbed, then he tries to wrap his legs around Dutch's torso and roll him over on his back, intending to just rapidly start punching him in the face and chest, anywhere he can land a hit. He's not yelling, he's not taunting, he's just breathing heavily and talking. "It doesn't have to be like this Dutch! But honor, I can respect that, honor's fun. Wanna know a secret? I modify my guns so I'll be a terrible shot, I favor my left hand so that fighting some thug or a dumb cop is more of a challenge. I can understand honor, only, I don't live by it! I gave you a chance, I gave you a chance to live, I gave you a chance to have a higher purpose! You chose death, remember that when the elder gods take you away."

He's calm for a person pounding someone in the face, as if he's trying to teach some sort of lesson. "We could have had so much fun…"

12 lets out a muffled yell when the knife is pulled out, rapidly mumbling under Coren's grasp, but he nods repeatedly at everything he's requested to do. Obviously he is not one of the more loyal followers.

Dutch For a few moments Dutch swings in with enough brute force to give as good as he gets, but soon enough Mortimer's superior brawlery becomes apparent. Dutch's swinging becomes less and less accurate, before he isnt swinging at all really. He's not KO at first, just relenting back to try and cover his face before he gives up that too.

The sound is unmistakable, even Mort should know it the first time he hears it. Dutch is just fading out, when one hand pops the spoon on a fragmentation grenade before forcibly stuffing it into Mort's pants! Even if he doesn't kill him with the blast, he wont be making any kids anytime soon right?"nnnnnnnnnNNNNNGH!"

Meanwhile, Dutch is in that quasi KO'd state. Groaning and moving around, but punchdrunk was being polite. He was just completely out of it, and soon afterward he just goes still. KTFO.

Mortimer's eyes go wide when a grenade is slipped into his pants. "You broke the rules!" He yells as he reaches into his pants, quickly pulling the grenade out and holding his arm back, getting ready to toss it. "You broke the rules, again, again! We have rules for a reason, we were proving who was most worthy of he—"

Some say that holding an active grenade in your hand while ranting about how bad it was for someone to stuff it into your pants, is a very stupid thing to do.

Those people are right.

The grenade explodes, and pieces of Mortimer's forearm go flying everywhere, all over the roof, the force of the blast blowing him right off of Dutch and on to the ground, hitting his head hard. It's difficult to tell if he's alive, or conscious, but he's missing all of his left arm below the elbow.

Adam blinks rapidly at his laptop computer screen. "Now….now that was just stupid." he crosses his arms and leans on the table to get a better look to see if either Mortimer or Dutch survived, "This is better than that insect battle show on the television." he tilts his head, "I wonder if the bomb gets removed in a draw."

Wincing, Carrie watches battle. "Come on, man.. You can do this. Come on." She whispers fiercely, her grip tightening on the rifle. When she sees Dutch with the grenade, she gives a soft gasp. "What the hell are you…." A smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "Well, hot dog. Go boy go.. Now get out of the way. Oh shit… Don't go down now." Then the grenade explodes and she instinctively ducks behind the wall. She starts saying.. "Son of a bitch." Over and over as she comes back up to get back into position. Her breath catches as she gives Mortimer a check, before focusing the rifle on Dutch. "Come on… get up.. Wake up."

Coren sets the knife aside and pulls the wadded up sleeve. He reverse the jacket and presses it against the wound, hard, to help slow the bleeding. A wound that deep, there's no stopping it without sutures or hot coals… "Tell me about this bomb and make it snapp— " There's the sound of the grenade going off and Coren rises up to see what happened, ducking quickly back down. "Tell me how to deactivate the bomb and make it snappy."

Dutch doesn't move really, he just bleeds. Shrapnel hasn't been so unkind to Dutch, he's still breathing anyway. Just the same, he's been heavily peppered and clearly he isn't having a good day. Slowly, he rolls onto his side with a wet cough. Spitting blood and quite literally bits of tongue, throat and lung out onto the roof. Undaunted, Dutch gropes blindly at the roof, as he rolls onto his hands and knees. "Its ok ma'am, just relax. Your safe, I'm gonna." He doesn't finish but he does haul himself up onto his boots only to double over and cough up more important shit. He wavers, shook up and bleeding badly from just about everything. "I don't know, I need to see it. "Dutch snorts, spits out a few teeth and slowly stumbles over towards Coren and the hostage. "Go get Mort, I can do this. Go. Get. Mort."

"Ok, ok!" DJ 12 has heard enough explosions to go unshaken by the sound, he just immediately starts spilling the beans. "The bomb works like a safe, but you gotta press these sections in the right order and make sure the gears don't trigger the bomb!" He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper with the complex decoding system. It says how many times you have to tap each section, in what order, and that you have to wait for the tiny gears to stop turning before pressing each button. It's like some insane clock bomb.

Mortimer's laying there, arm and the whole left side of his torso and some of his face have been caught in shrapnel in some way. But he starts to sit up, very slowly, yelling his lungs out in pain. "What's going ooooooonnn? Where's my arm? Oh god, where's my arm? What is this?" he just sounds utterly confused, unlike himself, with a large lump on the back of his head. "My face!" No, he's not two face, but if having pieces of shrapnel pierced into your mouth doesn't hurt, I don't know what does. Then, just like that, he passes out.

Adam leans back in his seat, the climax apparently having finished, "Well…that was.." he shrugs, it was what it was. "Don't think he's surviving that though." he shakes his head, "Guess he's not going to get the girl." he sucks in air between his teeth annoyedly. "I might as well just run ads in a soldier of fortune magazine."

Dutch slumps to his knees with a wet cough, and a heavy wheeze. Turning away as he nears the hostage, so she doesnt have to watch him cough up little bits of himself. "Just relax Ma'am, I'm with the ATF. I'm here to rescue you, I need you to relax for just abit longer so we can get this off of you."

"Dammit." Carrie snaps, "Fuck this.." She throws the strap of the rifle over her head and grabs the soft case and starts running. She slides down rubbles and hops down steps two a time. She grabs the frame of the front door and swings herself around in the direction of the Rookery, not slowing. Her badge it pulled out of her pocket and clipped on her waist on her way up. It takes only moments for her to come out onto the roof, panting. "Agent Castillo, Homeland.." She glances around, taking in everything. Hearing voices she glances towards Coren, Dutch and the hostage, but she moves towards Mortimer. She's not risking him getting away, as she pulls out flex ties and a pair of handcuffs. When he starts to yell, her hand goes to her back, no Home sec agent leaves home without their hand dandy tranq. But when he passes out, it's obvious she doesn't need it.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Dutch go to his knees. "Shit.." Quickly she moves to his side to support him. "Whoa there.. take it easy.. You look like hell." Her voice is firm, but gentle. "Let me help you with this, you need to sit."

Adam arches a brow as new people run into the view of the camera, "Who's this bird?" he questions and squints, looking closer to the screen, "Pretty bird." he turns up the speakers and listens to the confusion and the orders and such, "Another little soldier, hm?" his eyes narrow a moment and then he begins to write something down on a pad of paper.

Coren takes the instructions and pores over them twice before he finally stands up. "Keep the coat pressed as hard as you can to your shoulder. I'll try to get you out of here in one piece, and then we'll go from there." When the Homeland Security agent shows up, his eyes narrow slightly. Bloody Homeland Security. On that point, he stands up from his previously crouched position and shouts, "Show's over." With a kick, the camera sails against the roof edge and breaks into pieces. "I'm Detective Shelby, New York Police Department," he says, as he holds out the schematics to Dutch and then addresses the ATF agent, "You're ATF. I think I can disarm it, but you should read these over and supervise. I have a call to make, take your time. You can help him, Agent Castillo."

His cell phone is sought quickly and he uses speed dial to call Abigail. As soon as she picks up he says, "Abigail, it's Coren Shelby."

Adam had just gotten down the name Castillo when he hears some pouncy guy inform him the show's over and he gets a view of the ground and building and sky, "Bloody Hell, that was not on." he shakes his head as he jots some more things down, "Guess they had more people there.." he leans back and frowns, "They're like bloody roaches, these Company agents."

The woman tied to the pole struggles, trying to speak, but completely gagged. She can hear voices, reassuring voices, and she tries to calm down. It sounds like a cop, no, cops.

12 holds the coat tightly, groaning and following instructions obediently. Getting stabbed was not in the job description! The bomb on the other hand, is far different than any normal bomb, but the instructions are on the paper, plain as day.

Dutch grumbles, taking the paper with a grunt. Smearing the paper with blood, as he recites the order. "Just relax ma'am, NYPD and the feds. Your gonna be ok."Its a pretty amazing feat considering the damage, and amount of blood he's loosing. He still sounds cool and composed, as he slips his hand out to take the woman's for a firm squeeze. "everything is gonna be alright, just relax."

The woman quickly nods, shivering when she takes his hand, mmming frantically, wanting to say something.

Abigail's voice flares to life on the phone. "What can I do for you Doctor Shelby" All southern comfort over the line, the sounds of the street beyond her phone.

There is a brief nod of recognition to Coren before she is tugging open the velcro of one of the big pockets on her pant legs, Carrie pulls out a packet of sterilized gauze. "Alright, Dutch." Wow she knows his name… "This is going to hurt." She murmurs before pressing the gauze against one of his wounds. She surveys the rest of him and shakes her head. "You look like you've been through a wood chipper." She glances at Coren briefly, half listening to his conversation.

"As much as I absolutely hate to say it," Coren says over the phone, "I need you to drop whatever you're doing and head straight to the Whitehall Ferry Terminal. Bring whatever you need with you. I have some very injured persons with me, and I'm calling dispatch to have two patrol cars and paramedics to meet you there. I hope to be there soon, but it's not a particularly short boat ride."

"Uh. Okay. I need to get off the phone now Doctor" Abigail answers. Seems someone's already out and about. "Be fif… fifteen minutes around about" and there's a click.

Dutch pushes Carrie back albeit weekly. "I'm drowning, not bleeding to death. I need a sheet of plastic."He just stays put, his head hanging limply from his shoulders as the color drains from his face. He's bleeding but not that terribly on the outside at least, his breathing is the bad part. Raspy and gurgling, forcing him to all but gulp air and force bright pink blood from his chest. His eyes are glassy, blood's coming from his nose and ears. Overpressure, punctured lungs, aspirated blood, hydrostatic shock. He was in rough shape, running on pure adrenaline to keep him awake.

Carrie presses her lips into a fine line and turns to the roof door. "See what I got in the jeep." She straightens from her crouch and nods to the Detective. "Hurry up with the bomb so we can get moving.. Else we loose him." She doesn't sugar coat it at all. She doesn't wait for a response before taking off down through the theater. Once at her Jeep, she half hops into it, to grab a tool box back behind the drivers seat. She quickly pops it open and fishes out her duct tape. Not even bothering to shut tool box she moves around to the back of the jeep and digs around until she pulls out a plastic grocery bag. "Well….Shit.. It'll have to work." MacGyver anyone? Supplies in hand she sprints back into the building.

Another speed dial. "Dispatch, this is Detective Shelby. I need two units and a bus — make that two — sent to the Whitehall Ferry Terminal. I want those officers and paramedics to be brought on board an NYPD boat along with Abigail Beauchamp, who will be there in roughly fifteen minutes. That boat needs to rendezvous with me at the Saint George terminal on Staten Island. I'll be there waiting." He waits for dispatch to confirm and then hangs up and moves back towards Dutch. "So, which of us gets the honour of disarming that?"

Its a superhuman feat of endurance, which Coren doesn't perform. Dutch gets up, eyes nearly vacant. "I'll do it Coren, I'm just about used up."He smiles, reaching across to pat Coren's shoulder. He just stands there for a moment, panting and looking at the collar. "Just make sure the fucker doesn't get away, make sure this isn't for nothing."And there he goes, carefully pressing the collar's tabs or buttons or whatever with precision in the specified order.

Lots of tiny gears click after each push of a button, suggesting that many things are shifting around with each push. But finally, after the annoyingly specific task of inputting all the codes, the thing suddenly lets out a high pitched shriek. One gets the impression that it's about to blow, but then, apparently wanting to get one final reaction out of Dutch, the shriek is just to make his heart race. The codes work, and the bomb completely falls apart as hundreds of little gears and other tiny parts, including th some sort of liquids in vials, all hit the ground in a rain of metal.

By time she arrives back on the roof, Carrie gets to watch Dutch move to disarm the bomb. She pause, one item in each hand. "You sure he should be doing that.." She starts forward closing the distance with the others, when it seems like it's going to go off. The shriek makes her jump, her heart indeed racing. "Son of a… " She glances over at Mort's prone body, resisting the temptation to kick him. "Sick bastard." She growls instead. The pieces on the ground are eyed as she moves to help Dutch should he collapse. "You got it.. Now relax. She's safe for the moment. Let's get you temporarily patched up for the trip out of here."

Coren's never disarmed a bomb before, and he doesn't care to start. The shriek makes him jump ever so slightly, and then he glares at the partially-dismembered body of Mortimer. He makes his way over to grab DJ 12 and bring him over next to his boss, because hey, keeping the criminals together is a good idea to avoid losing one of them. "You mentioned a jeep. We need to get Mortimer into it and get over to the Saint George ferry terminal. I don't have a vehicle over here, not that it would have accommodated this number. We'll take him and his lackie here into custody and treat the injured. I have paramedics and a number of uniformed officers en route."

12 stares down at Mortimer, starting to shake in terror, pulling his helmet visor back down before quickly pressing the coat against his wound again. "Oh god, what are we gonna do? If he's not around to give orders, one of the others might take over and change philosophy…" he says as if this would be a very terrible thing. "Every few months there's a bad seed, and he says we should try to take over the world. He usually kills them, but if he's not around, and the others start thinking it's a good idea…"

Carrie gives a snort. "No." She says firmly and forcefully to Dutch. She fishes out keys from her pocket and with a whistle to get Coren's attention, tosses them to him. "Go ahead. I know where you work, I come get it." Her tone is don't argue, just do it. She turns back to Dutch and pulls out a folded knife. "I'm surprised your still awake. I'm fixing you up.. You can show me where this van is.. And we'll get's you across. I didn't come here to save that punk's ass.. I came here to save yours."

"The thing about the common thug is that they're not particularly intelligent. For all this man was insane, he wasn't completely stupid, either. Nor do you seem to be, for that matter," Coren says. Then he comes back to Carrie and Dutch, "If I have to knock your ass out, Agent Ohnesorge, to drag you in for proper medical care, so help me, I will. I'm sure you know I'd probably take pleasure in doing so." He addresses Agent Castillo, "If you take the injured … twelve … in the jeep, I will follow with Agent Ohnesorge and Mortimer in the van."

Dutch just shakes his head, "The grenade, may not have been my brightest moment." With that said, he just slowly leans to one side before completely falling over. Blinking quietly, as the world grows less interesting. Things dont go black, but he does just stop giving a shit. There are voices, which sound like he's underwater but that doesnt matter either. "I'm not done."

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