In The Nick Of Time


nick_icon.gif raquelle_icon.gif savannah_icon.gif yana_icon.gif

Scene Title In The Nick Of Time
Synopsis Mind the gap, and try not to pass out over subway tracks. Lest you trust your fellow man.
Date February 7, 2011

Financial District - Subway Station

Six o'clock means that many people are already at home, sitting around a dinner table with their families or getting ready to. Others watch television, children play, finish homework, get ready for bed. Somewhere in the city there's a man with a gun pointed at him, holding out his wallet with a shakey hand, elsewhere is a woman, flashing her registration card and getting into a taxi as she heads out to meet up with some friends.

But down here in the subway, away from the elements of snow or rain that have plauged the city since winter set it, it's just cool, damp, and sprinkled with people. People from all walks of life, parents taking their children home after a day in daycare, business men who have stayed late and need to start the ride back home before curfew sets in. Homeless people who have taken up residence in the connecting tunnels in the hopes that someone will be kind and drop a dime or a dollar into their paper cups while their cardboard signs states their plight.

At the far corner of this double plateform a lone individual, college student, plays a violin, a haunting melody that is heard when the trains pull away and leave only his sound and that of the people who mill about with backpacks, papers, briefcases and store bags filled with their newly acquired possessions not to mention people who talk on their cellphones.

Long strides and black Doc Marten boots carry Nick York from the corridor to the platform; a businessman he most certainly isn't in frayed jeans and a black tuque, though the black wool peacoat could adorn a suit and look all right. Pale and weary blue eyes immediately alight on the train pulling away and he sighs with some exasperation. Clearly in a hurry. Clearly not his day.

The trains come quickly enough, and he knows this; he pulls a wallet out of his pocket to tuck his Registration card back into it, then pulls out a five dollar bill to toss into the violinist's case. He averts his eyes from the young man, giving a shake of his head at any attempt at gratitude, and he moves further away from the haunting sound — he's a strange sort of patron of the arts — to lean against the tiled mosaic wall, arms crossing as he watches the tracks as if that would make the train come any quicker.

Somebody out and at the subway happens to be Raquelle for once, most likely returning from a job where he had to take said subway to reach a client and now attempting to find his way back home. He's in professionally tight black jeans, black cowboy boots with red accents, a black turtleneck under a black leather jacket with a red and black scarf around his neck and a black and red fedora perched on his head. He brushes his emo fringe out of his eyes, and it is dyed red today as he filters through text messages on his phone with his free hand, fingerless black gloves on as usual. His other hand is holding the black case that is home to his hair styling supplies. He walks along slowly but surely, tapping something into his phone with his thumb.

It is fishing season for one person on the planet. And maybe eskimos that live in cold icy environment, if we were talking about actual fish. But this is just a euphemism, for the type of fish we're talking about are ones riddled with disease. That's right, viruses are like the different breeds of fish, and any of them could be swimming in the underground of the subway. And Yana is the only person equipped with the 'pole' to extract and utilize these various fish breeds. A woman such as Yana would normally not use the subway, it is very beneath her… However, if you want results, sometimes you have to get your hands a little dirty.

She tries not to be too much of a sparkling diamond while out in this environment, but the woman can't help but be a bit glamorous, because it is her nature. While she doesn't have all of the expensive jewelry and such she normally wears, you can guarantee she is wearing her tight black Gucchi dress, her Manolo Blahniks, and her sleak winter coat with the military style buttons and collar. Those heels echo through the tunnel as moves with short steps, taking her time, slinging her Louis Vuitton handbag over her shoulder. She is watching people with a careful and shiny green eye, which means she is checking for sickness. Her attention pulled by the music filling the air.
ORDER: It is now your pose.

Savannah isn't carrying much with her, just her usual satchel with notebooks and pens galore so she can do her writing which she's been doing diligently all day, floating from cafe to cafe to coffee house. The blonde glances over towards the violinist with a tiny smile, but a careful patting of her pockets for cash reveals nothing. So much for that. She peers towards the subway with a tired sigh.

Some people give money, others don't. It doesn't matter to the young man though there's a little god wobble of his music to denote a thank you to the seemingly shy man that is Nick when he drops off 5 dollars. He moves away a bit from his tip jar and case, the red velvet innards gleaming in the sometimes stuttery light of the subway. His melody rebounds off the walls, poles, benches and billboards that prompt you to see the latest movies, or to purchase this product because you cannot live without it.

He does a little jig with his feet, flashing Savannah a smile with his impossibly white teeth that show he does this for fun and doens't really need the money. Likely just does it for the sake of doing it. He shimmies next to the blonde, ending the song and starting up a new one, greensleeves from the sound of it and his voice soon joins into his song.

"//Alas, my love, you do me wrong, To cast me off discourteously. For I have loved you well and long,

Some people give money, others don't. It doesn't matter to the young man though there's a little god wobble of his music to denote a thank you to the seemingly shy man that is Nick when he drops off 5 dollars. He moves away a bit from his tip jar and case, the red velvet innards gleaming in the sometimes stuttery light of the subway. His melody rebounds off the walls, poles, benches and billboards that prompt you to see the latest movies, or to purchase this product because you cannot live without it.

He does a little jig with his feet, flashing Savannah a smile with his impossibly white teeth that show he does this for fun and doens't really need the money. Likely just does it for the sake of doing it. He shimmies next to the blonde, ending the song and starting up a new one, greensleeves from the sound of it and his voice soon joins into his song.

"Alas, my love, you do me wrong, To cast me off discourteously. For I have loved you well and long,Delighting in your company." He gives Savannah a wink, flirting with his green eyes before he spins away, quick steps bringing him to Raquelle. " Greensleeves was all my joy Greensleeves was my delight, Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but my lady greensleeves.//" The last spoken to Yana before he starts to make his way back to his case as the train opposite what everyone wants pulls in.

It disgorges a couple handfulls of people, most of whom make for the topside, feet clattering on the steps and eventually they will see sunlight again and fresh air. A few though join the others at the platform to wait for the one that will carry them home. For all that Nick wills it, it's not moving faster even as the other pulls away to leave just the violinist making the most noise.

The music and the jig doesn't seem to improve Nick's mood any; those who come to join him on the platform are given courteous but disinterested glances before those blue eyes return to staring at the track. To help pass the time, he pulls out his cell phone to check the time, though anything else is out of the question since the subterranean locale makes for zero bars.

Attention is caught by the person…well there is music so, Raquelle's tucking his cellphone away with a wry smile, tugging a few bucks out of his pocket and jogging after the entertainer to drop the bills (about five 20s, oops) into the case before turning around smoothly to watch the train come in and people come in and out, brow furrowing as he sighs softly. "…you know this is so much easier in Japan…" He mutters.

Does she look like the type to carry loose change on her? Let alone cash? No, she doesn't, so it is unlikely that the musician will get a tip from Yana. Though wait a minute… With the inclusion into his routine, she feels obligated to applaud his efforts, and regardless as to the young man's appearance, you can bet that in Yana's mind, he is a person who is down on his luck, who need to play for a meal this evening. Fortunately for him, she is feeling generous, and she has some change left from her recent venture. Digging in her purse, Yana lifts a twenty from the compartment, and drops it into the man's case thoughtlessly. After which, she turns on her heels and makes her way over to the train, which brings her near Raquelle and Nick. The woman is a little too engrossed with her thoughts to notice them immediatly.

Oh, Greensleeves. Savannah is partial to greensleeves and the guy's got nice eyes, so the jig and performance make her smile a bit. Her eyes shift to Raquelle and Nick, who don't quite seem to enjoy waiting. The author doesn't mind waiting, mostly because here are interesting people to watch.

The coughing isn't heard for the sound of subway trains and violins. The laboured breathing from the man in a fairly expensive suit who just got off the other train, now waiting. He should be in bed if the beads of sweat on his brow and hanky in his hand are any indication. THE violinist careens around to thanks Raquelle, serenade him more before he trips the light fantastic to protect his windfall for the day.

A few more people seem to journey down from above, having made it through turnstiles- though the speed that one man is moving, combined with the transit authority individual who is hefty - his gut's jiggling - and trying to catch up with him, divert the attention that way. THe runner is laughing, despite that he's likely been caught on camera and hoofing it, increasing the distance between the two. disappearing down another exit, and the transit cop stops a moment to catch his breath before he too is exiting.

It's about this time that the laboured breather topples, eyes rolling up and falling over the platform, onto the rails where the subway train is scheduled to stop at some point.

When the man topples, it catches Nick's downcast eyes and his head comes up, black brows knitted as he looks to see what caught his eye, but for a moment he's distracted by the runner and the security guard. He shakes his head, an irritated scowl further wrinkling his brow before he realizes what's happened.

"Ah, shit," he says, shoving off the wall he leans against to hurry to the platform, glancing down the tunnel to see if the train is within sight — there might be time — and then he jumps down, knees bending so he lands with a crouch and a wince as the jolt jars his limbs and he falls forward onto his knees. So much for grace under pressure. He's up in a moment and scrambling toward the man. "Someone call 9-1-1!" he shouts back over his shoulder on the way.

"You're welcome baby, just keep playin' like you're playin'." Raquelle offers the Violinist before the woman with the designer niceness does indeed get a glance from Raquelle, mostly because of her bag most probably and he wolf-whistles appropriately before his attention is caught by the commotions that start up. He adjusts his hold on his case and stares at the runners for a moment. "…oh my god, its Officer Jiggly Puff chasin' after Cheetah…"

He shakes his head slowly before turning to see the man who was coughing and his topple down off the platform, eyebrows shooting up as he slips his cellphone out of his pocket and dials 911. Low Battery. Lovely. But he tried! Edging his way to the edge of the platform and looking around warily before he's scrambling down himself, case left up on the platform as he moves quickly. "Here honey, let me help…oh god is he dead?" HE DOESN'T KNOW!

She catches the whistle given by Raquelle, and Yana shifts her eyes to peer over at him. Just before a moment of recognition crosses her face, things break out. Drama. Wonderful. She was beginning to wonder when it would happen. At least this time, she isn't the target of it, or directly in it's path. All of her attention going toward the action, her pace could be a little quicker, though she isn't getting worked up over it, because it isn't happening to her.

She reaches in her purse to pull out her phone so that she can dial the proper authorities while meandering over to get a good look at the scene. "Yes, I'm—" Wait a second, that man doesn't look so good. Other than being probably unconscious, he looks.. why could he be ill? Oh she hope's so. While she keeps 9-1-1 on hold for just a second, while they are calling in her ear 'What is your emergency?', Yana's eye spins reflective green, employing her ability to assess the man's general condition. Like a blacklight searching for evidence, she checks for "babies".

After a scan, she rejoins the conversation on her phone, "I'm in the subway along the Financial District. Subway number—" she looks up at the number on the pole. "52, and we have a man who has collapsed on the tracks. We are not sure of his condition, but we need emergency assistance."

Savannah tenses as she stares at the impending potential doom, with at least three possible victims. Her gaze flickers back to Yana, relieved to see she's got the phone under control. Her gaze flickers back down to the others, moving to stand near the edge of the platform. "See if he's breathing, and see if it seems like he hit his head on anything on the way down there. If he hasn't hit his head, get him up here now. He should be safe to move and we don't know where the train is and I don't see any sort of emergency lever or button or anything so it's not gonna help anyone if you all get stuck down there or far, far worse. If he's not breathing, we can give him CPR up here."

He's clean to Yana's sixth sense, nothing there untoward or even toward that she can sense would be responsible. Nothing there for her to play with in the least as she talks on the phone to the dispatch who are telling her to stay on the line until they can send some help. There's no other security forthcoming and no other's jumping down to help get the man off the track.

From Savannah's perch, she can see the lights down the tunnel, the ones that let the incoming trains know whether it's okay to go on through or to stop, the lights still remain green and there's the telltale change in pressure in the air that indicates there's something around the corner and coming and the lights that show, show a train coming on the adjacent track to where the men are tending to the downed individual, lights flickering as they traverse past the support beams and make the air move and it zooms on by, not stopping on it's way to another tunnel but too close for comfort for those on the tracks

Down on the tracks, the two men are greeted with an unconcious business suited gentleman, his briefcase fallen to between the two sperate tracks, rattling and shaking with the close quarters with the train that runs on the adjacent tracks. flecks of blood at his mouth, pulse racing, sweaty and fever hot, he's unresponsive to anything the two men try to rouse him and dead weight.

"I don't care if he's got a broken neck or 'ead or wot, we're moving him now. He's breathin'," Nick shouts up in his East-End London accent. He reaches for the briefcase to fling it up onto the platform first where it skids until it comes to rest at Savanna's feet. The young man to take the man by the underarms. Icy blue eyes look up into Raquelle's own pale gaze. "You grab his legs?" he says with a jutted chin toward the hair stylist. "He's gonna be a bitch to get up on he platform," he mutters. Nick's used to hauling boxes around, but this man outweighs him by a bit.

Whether Raquelle agrees or not, Nick is working to haul the man up, staggering backward toward the platform's edge.

"Dayum, if you're a top you could be my daddy if you're a bottom, well I like them bossy…sir yes /sir/." Raquelle drawls as he bends down to grab the legs as instructed, lashes fluttering and expression grim despite his teasing tone of voice as he eyes the platform, moving along with Nick, grunting softly as they heft him up and takes a deep breath.

"He's a hot mess…and ugh…what the…you're so luck I have a DVR, tonight was the premiere of that new show, you know the one where every body ends up on an island because their train crashed and they have memory loss and don't know where or who they are and some monkeys attack them but they never see them only the monkeys aren't really monkeys but survivors from a blimp crash who are really a secret agents from a program living underground as the survivors from the train crash develop super powers and find out they only have 48 days to save the world in between the racy television sex scenes where nobody ever orgasms but they are always sweat on some leaves and never get bit or a twig up their asses?" He breathes. "I so don't want to miss /that/."

Hm. Whatever is afflicting this man, it certainly isn't viral. Which is a shame for Yana, because she was certainly hoping for some good news. Dr. Blite believes it is a waste to be sick with something if it isn't a virus, because that takes her out of the equation and— Ew.. wait. Maybe it's bacterial. There are some nasty things that are bacterial. Curable, but terribly inconvenient. And the vectors for bacterial infection tend to be easier. Ew. She makes sure to stay back away from the man for the time being while she is on the phone, giving the information.

She watches Nick and Raquelle deal with the man, and then Nick is suddenly recognized. It's the human bomb from the party! She'll never forget his face! Never! Such a tragic night, stressing out her poor fragile psyche.. Oh, the humanity. But.. he's still alive! And he is here! She almost mentions for them to bring the bomb squad too, though she thinks better of it at the last minute.

Pushing the suitcase out of the way, Savannah moves to her knees near the edge of the platform so that she can help once they manage to pull the guy up to the proper height she can help drag him onto the platform. "I hate to be a downer, but you guys need to move now. This is the part where your adrenaline is supposed to kick in and you can lift a car like those moms saving their kids."

Savannah's urging for them to get the job done is a fairly urgent one because there's that displacement of air again and coming around the corner, lights in the distance seems to be the train that they are all waiting for. But as Raquelle and Nick work to get the man up and out of the tracks, there's others there, pushing past Yana as she talks on the phone and thinks her disgust for bacteria, grabbing at the man and helping to haul him up onto the platform followed by hands grabbing onto Raquelle and Nick's arms once the sick individual is safe, to haul them up.

In the nick of time too, if the horn blasting is any indication from the incoming train and the squeal of brakes. People on the platform hold their breaths, the whites of the conductors eye's can be seen, and Nick's heel clears the gap just as the train comes sliding into the station and then stops.

All in the nick of time.

Pun intended.

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