In The Sky


bella_icon.gif brand_icon.gif brennan_icon.gif odessa4_icon.gif yana_icon.gif

Scene Title In The Sky
Synopsis Precautions are taken at the Suresh Center when word of a new terrorist attack reaches them, but no one is prepared for the real emergency that descends around them.
Date January 31, 2011

South Roosevelt Island

The southern end of Roosevelt Island sat undeveloped for decades. Originally the home of the Renwick Smallpox Hospital, recognized as a national landmark in 1972, the land upon which the Renwick stood was purchased from the state of New York by the ReGenesis foundation in 2008. The Renwick was thereafter demolished, and upon the grounds where the historic landmark once stood rose the Suresh Center, a hospital for the furthered study and understanding of the Evolved.

Today the southern side of Roosevelt Island is underground a revitalization like other small neighborhoods in New York City. With the neighborhood of Summer Meadows having found charitable networks assisting in its reconstruction after having turned into a drug haven and ghetto following the bomb, more and more residents of Roosevelt Island have begun to return home. Common sights on the largely deforested southern end of the island include new constructions and signs of development, from chain-link fences surrounding construction sites to graffiti being cleaned off of businesses and storefronts. Even the roads that criss-cross the southern end of the island have seen steady repair since the arrival of the Suresh Center, further giving the impression of a growing community on this side of the Queensboro Bridge's tremendous shadow.

It's snowing by the time the evacuation sirens are screaming to shake free the people inside, but this isn't a totally unusual occurrance — bomb scares and fire drills are standard fair for the Suresh Centre that stands solemn and impassive as confused droves of people are ushered out into the parking lot to be organised in the face of some disaster that New York City is constantly due for. It's a scattered pack of people, not as many as there'd been mere hours ago in the peaker hours of the day, but one can still hear the usual snide remarks.

I don't see a fire, do you? and Maybe there was a pop quiz and At least it'd be warm in there.

Over there. Queens. Do you see it?

A bomb had gone off, barely a handful of moments ago, across the thin sliver of river of water that divides the skinny island from the sprawling Queens borough. Difficult though it is to see past the Queensboro Bridge, some can pick out where a plume of smoke rises for the sky. Meanwhile, Stillwater Security trucks are ambling up the main road, men in kevlar and wielding rifles currently waiting for pending orders concerning the safety of the Suresh Centre.

The clouds above are bruise coloured and dense, shaking down a light falling of snow that glitters inoffensively as it comes down on the various Roosevelt Island employees, inhabitants and guests. They scatter out across the wide parking lot, with the tip of the island on one side, and the Suresh Centre on the other, twin roads branching out around it.

Disaster plan binder in hand, lab coat on, cellphone out, Doctor Harve Brennan is at the door with his back used to keep it open, ushering people out and making sure that the in-patients are all taken to one section of the parking lot are not mixed up with the outpatients. Some of them are here under DoEA directive to gain control over abilities. He can't help but look up, look over to where the plume of smoke is making itself apparent.

Humanis First maybe, who knows, but at least Stillwater is there and if anyone attempts something on the Suresh Center again, then they'll soon find themselves on the nasty end of some really intimidating weapons. "Lets keep it moving folks, drill or not, to the parking lot. I'm sure it will be over soon and we can go back in." This will be a story at the dinner table tonight, that's for sure. He swivels his gaze to back inside, looking for anyone else not a patient who's heading out and might be from the lab. "Lab locked?"

Far be it from Odessa Price to be caught unprepared in the event of an emergency drill. Her red peacoat is worn as a splash of colour over the white lab coat and shades of grey that compose her ruffled skirt, tank top, and four inch satin heels. Her white hair is left down today, bangs mostly hiding the white patch over her left eye (the one adorned with a simple, red, even-armed cross. Her purse is slung across her body, all sequins and flash and likely largely unnecessary.

But when she spots the smoke, the young doctor is glad she took the time (that's a bit of temporal humour) to retrieve the handbag. When her boss asks about the lab, Odessa fixes him with a look that says oh, shit, I knew I forgot something. "I can duck back in and double check. It'll only take a minute."

Wherever Dr. Sheridan was, whatever she was up to, it evidently did not require a labcoat. That or she ditched it before throwing on her winter coat and black beret, apparently not taking the evacuation so seriously as to risk being cold and uncomfortable out in the open air. Her hair whisping out from under her hat, her hands slid into opposing sleeves, she exits the building in a bustle. Fellow M.D.s spotted, she crosses over to join Odessa and Harve at once, assuming that pretty much anyone save herself has a better idea of… "What's going on?" She spots the smoke. "Oh Jesus, what now? I didn't have any appointments today, even. Can we please reschedule this?"

You can probably imagine that Dr. Elvira Blite had her moment to where she was a massive dramatic mess. Given her history with things happening either to her, or to the area she is in as of late, the woman would make an excellent addition to a soap opera. And things were going so well too, she was in the lab at the time with notes in front of her, and her attention divided as she took a detailed look at the influenza virus held in her own body. Perhaps, by getting a good enough look at the normal strain, she can gain a little more insight for when she gets her sample of H5N10. It never hurts to brush up on the basics.

Though this was interrupted by the latest crisis that has her rushing out of the lab, grabbing her coat and tossing it on, as well as snatching up her silk shawl and grabbing her purse. The black dress under the lab coat providing further warmth to the woman as her Monolo Blahniks click-click-click noisily down the hall, eventually catching up to the rest as she looks just as confused as they do. "Oh! Dr. Sheridan! Dr. Sheridan, there you are!" Yana quickly takes short steps to get to the woman and the small group, "Thank heavans, a friendly face. Have you any idea what is happening at all? Please tell me you do."

Like many young people that happen to be SLC expressive, Brand spends time at the Suresh Center. He's not required to be there, but he does go. In fact, he was probably slumped in the back of some lecture hall or classroom going through the motions of seeking help. Now he's shuffling himself out of the building, his gloves and coat already on. The the haze of the alarms and panic getting his Ability kicked up, and he just kind of fades into the background if you're not looking for him.

Until he pops up at Dr. Brennan's elbow, right in the conversation range of the group. "Excuse me, ma'am." He nods to Yana, recognizing her from work before turning his attention to Brennan. "Doctor, what's going on? Are they coming for us now?" Who they are is left open to rampant speculation. Choose your Persecution Boogeyman from the copious gallery of available rogues.

"Everyone needs to step away from the building, please," bellows a voice not so distanced from where the little crowd of Suresh Centre attendees gather to try and share what little information is available. Everyone begins to herd as directed, some minor protest as to what is happening, goodness, piping up in mutters. But it's very difficult to argue with men holding rifles, and these ones are.

Towards the south, over the steel grey winter river, there's a boat already coursing its way towards the narrow end of Roosevelt Island. It's a distance away and also not an unfamiliar sight, one of the many patrol boats that occupy these waters is driving closer, the Stillwater Security logo marking it as official.

"No, if it's not locked, then it's not locked but when we go back in, go make sure it's all okay in there Dr. Price" Her coat eyed, Bella's coat eyed in fact, everyone who's not a patient and possessing a coat on their back is eyed. "Does no one take these seriously anymore? Did they not learn anything from the 8th? Emergency evacuation means emergency evacuation not meander to where your jacket and purse is, and then exit"

Someone will be recommending illusionist assisted practice runs in the future. "I don't know what's going on, but Dr. Sheridan, Price, Blite, if you could, please go with the rest of the employees and follow the instructions of the PMC's, circulate among the patients and make sure everyone is okay. Keep them together to preserve heat and I'm sure we'll be back in soon enough or instructed to another building where we can wait this out."

And the last person coming out, Brennan lets the door close, his stethoscope clinking against the door and he's - Surprised by Brand. "We'll let you know more, Brand, when we're allowed to tell you. Why don't you go with the doctors here and move away from the building?" He's not bothering to negate the teenager, there's no real need. Reserve it for when there is a need. With that, he's ushering people away like Stillwater is requesting, obeying the order himself.

"Is anybody else having flashbacks to Verrazano-Narrows?" Odessa utters under her breath, staring out in the direction of Queens as they're moved away from the building. To Brennan's question of whether she takes this seriously, the woman just shrugs. "I have an excuse. I think I would actually be mentally deficient if I didn't grab my coat." Considering she can. "Don't worry. If the building were actually on fire, I would help evacuate patients before I bothered with my coat. Promise."

Then, Odessa's taking Bella's arm, giving her a small grin as she lifts her gaze skyward briefly. "It's snowing~"

"That," Bella says, turning to reply to Yana's question, so close on the heels of her own, "is precisely what I want to know. I'm sorry to disappoint, but," her gaze cuts to Brennan, whose assumption of direct command makes him the most viable target for pestering, despite his explicit denial of knowledge, "I suppose we should just fall in line, do our jobs until someone who knows something delivers a report?"

As for jackets, Bella has no regrets and just as little interest in debating the point. She did a baaad thing. Add it to the list.

Bella rests her hand over Odessa's when the younger woman takes her arm. She casts a sidelong smile at her, before directing her own gaze towards the heavens. "Good. Isn't it supposed to be warmer when it's snowing than when it's not? I think there's some conventional wisdom to that effect…" She looks back down at the patients, some huddled in groups, others scattered. "…time to herd sheep…" she murmurs, audible only to those directly nearby. She tugs on Odessa's arm. "Let's encourage everyone to stay together. Like the Big Man said."

It cannot be helped. There are important articles and things in her purse that she would prefer to keep on her person in the event of a disaster. Besides, whatever little problem that is occurring can wait two seconds for her to get her affects before crashing down. It is Dr. Blite after all, the world should compensate for her. At least that is how she sees it. She doesn't know about anyone else. But still, must keep up appearances, and Yana makes herself blush while she offers an embarrassed chuckle to Harve, "Oh, you're right of course, Dr. Brennan. I do just tend to lose my head when these things happen." She looks like she could be distraught, playing up the 'dainty woman in crisis' routine rather well. She touches her fingers to her neckline to convey her 'shame'.

A combination of Brennan's request and the men with rifles orders have Yana moving quickly to do as told. Right when the rising smoke catches her eye, "My word!" she gasps, "Was it another terrorist attack? So soon?" The woman looks shocked and appalled at the very notion. "This is getting out of hand." She pulls her coat further around her body to offer some sense of security while she wonders what is going on.

After looking to Bella and Odessa, Yana moves to help the patients, catching sight of Brand, which takes a second for the woman to recognize him. She can't be expected to remember every single person she meets in her life. That would be expecting too much of her. "Young man, this way please." she says to him, gesturing with the group.

There is no greater source of surly looks and feelings than a teenaged male. Brand can be a fount of seething resentment, like the kind he's directing at Brennan. "I carry my coat with me. Don't just assume I'm a lollygag, Doctor." He fixes the doctor with his slate eyes for a moment before letting him go after making his point. He lets out a soft hrff, and buttons his coat up.

"Herd sheep. Line up for the nice men with rifles…" He mutters under his breath, scowling softly at the pushy and highly armed mercenaries sent by the government to coerce them. He holds up a hand, palm out to Yana as he shakes his head. "No thanks. I might just wander on back home. Or at least away from the guns for hire." He speaks lowly, but firmly.

And then, it's like a change in altitude, the kind you get warned against when you move very high into the sky, or deep underwater, a dull ache within the skull and a pressure pop that makes ears ring for a second before fading. Discomfort over pain, and it occurs for Brand on the tail end of his verbal defiance. It happens for Bella and Odessa and those in their immediate vicinity. It happens to Brennan, blipping a distraction in his efficient leadering, and around him, patients flinch in puzzled annoyance.

By chance, freak coincidence, or one more step south, Yana does not. The snow continues to fall and snag ice in her dark hair, peppering her coat, the wind blowing at the hems of her clothing for all that the winter chill blowing in off the water seems to suddenly die for everyone slightly north of her, but not for everyone slightly south. A fresh wind briefly snares at her, dies.

There's an abruptly scream, a woman staggering back, and clutching her hand with has suddenly gone bright red and wet, the ends of her fingers sheared neatly from the knuckles having come to land in audibly on what appears to be the north-side of a blue, faintly glowing line that has suddenly appeared drawing directly across the land, from edge to edge.

Someone follows the sight of it where it travels in severe determination towards where one of the PMCs stand with his rifle. The line scissors along the asphalt between his legs. And draws straight his torso. His gun falls first, in two neatly divided pieces, clattering to the asphalt. His legs buckle, and the stench of human insides and waste is a sudden addition to the area of those nearby as two halves of a grown man fall separated. The man he was just talking to, a complaining patient, begins to scream, a ragged, barking kind of sound as he staggers back, staring down at the ruined portions of flesh. At the way blood and gore smears on some invisible plane of glass between them, on either side.

Simultaneously, three cars buckle, breaking in two pieces where the line cuts across them with a creak of machinery. Those who can't immediately see rubberneck towards screams of pain and horror both, puzzle curiously at the broken cars, and what was once a reasomably orderly mass of people begins to buzz like a hive.

It snows on those to the south. For those more north, the weather has let up.

Misplaced, deferred anger. It likely won't be the last time that someone displays such, and Brand's grousing is politely nodded to even as he lifts a hand to pull at his ear, confused at the pressure that plagues his ear. Looking around for a source, perhaps an evolved with some sort of barometric ability - not that they'd be able to see that right away - Brennan's gaze strays at the second scream, the splicing of the PMC in twain. That is.. he's never seen that happen before, not outside of watching Jennifer Lopez and a horse in a movie about mindscapes. So he's stunned for a second before rationality kicks in and the other scream is mentally absorbed and glanced to. Woman, lacking fingers. "Price! The woman." She's a doctor, the one not a shrink or a scientist. "Get a tourniquet around her wrist!" He's moving for Mr. Twain.

All hell has broken loose! The screaming starts, orders are flung at her… Odessa's eye grows wide in horror, though not revulsion. Her mouth hanging open, she turns in place, surveying her surroundings.

Then, she's moving for the woman, weaving through crowds. Patients are so much easier to deal with when they can't fuss. The last falling flakes of snow suspend in mid-air about Odessa, the people around her held still in the moment. The woman, her patient just to her north, is not.

Confusion doesn't have long to settle in before Odessa goes bouncing off an invisible barrier just between herself and the screaming woman. It leaves her dazed for a moment, and then pushing her hand forward to test. Brows furrow at the feeling against her palm, which she retracts and rubs her fingers against. Turning back to the rest of the area south of whatever this is, a thought hits her that causes her to laugh softly, cracked as she is.

It's like being trapped in a giant snow globe.

Abruptly, everything on the south side resumes again and Odessa is shaking her head to Brennan. "I can't get to her! And my ability doesn't affect—" She waves her hand vaugely and then pounds her fist against the wall to demonstrate to the boss what they're up against.

Bella squinches her eyes shut, hands rising to cover her ears, cheeks puffing as she tries to re-pressurize her head, to repop her ears like she was on an airplane. When the sensation stops, and her eyes reopen, she doesn't immediately notice that the snow has ceased its descent. There are kind of… other things to pay attention to. People in pieces.

Blessed to be a psychiatrist, Bella isn't the recipient of any orders, nor is she one to assume the giving of them. Free to be confused bordering on panicked, she looks around at the strangely literal line of devastation, finding no single thing to fix on until Odessa goes ~boinggg~ off of the interior curve of that which Bella does not yet know to call the Dome.

Twice, she has received attitude from Brand, and for Yana that is twice too much. She was simply following Brennan's request, and she gets guff from the child which from the looks on her face, does not sit well with her. She had already started to walk ahead to take the lead, taking a few steps forward before she pauses, her eyes narrowing darkly, and then comes the spin of her body on her heels, whipping around to face Brand with a look that indicates she is just about to tell the young man off. She opens her mouth, takes a breath and then promptly closes it when things go awry.

And here it comes, at the sight of gore and chaos, Yana's hazel eyes widen to further heights of shock and terror, and the woman shrieks out in all of the confusion and the tragic events which are unfolding right before her. Her hands clasping over her screaming mouth, and she looks around for someone, anyone to help. "What is happening here?! What is going on?! Is this someone's idea of a proper use of their ability?! This is not amusing, I demand that you cease this activity at once!" she calls out to whomever is listening. When weird things like this happen, it is usually some Evolved that is behind it. And Dr. Blite will have none of it. She makes a move to assist the woman missing her fingers, in no way a medical doctor, but she can at least try to— Oh.. blood. Hm. This reminds her of blood born pathogens, and it reminds her of her quest to find wonderful virion particles. So in the midst of all this madness, Yana hesitates going to the woman, in order for her right eye to cast a green reflection like a feline's in the light. She 'checks' the woman for signs of infection, hoping to find something good like she were a grab bag.

Thank you for bleeding and reminding her to check, miss. Now, about your wounds… Yana moves in after that moment to remove her shawl, "Hold still. Please try to remain calm. I know this is bad, but we don't want you to go into further shock." she is trying to wrap the injury, should the woman allow.

The sudden pressure and the whistling make Brand frown and suddenly drop into a mild crouch. Then the violence starts happening - the terrible, gory violence. Most people would be, and are, shocked. Brand has been inoculated by a much more deliberate form of murder, a much more visceral and personal flavor of homicide. Fear and horror, even shock, are subsumed into a deep dissociative fugue. His face goes white as the blood is directed to his internal organs, away from his skin. Nobody sees it though - when the horror starts his Ability turns itself to 11 without his awareness.

Running on something like animal instinct and a cold logic he bursts into a sprint for the fallen mercenary while the half is still death-twitching. His eyes had been watching all of them warily, studying their weapons in a grim assessment for their ability to massacre them all. Now, however, he has a chance to take one for himself. He wouldn't know what to do with it, perhaps, but the acquisition of a weapon presents a short-term concrete goal to focus on. Thus preventing jibbering madness at the implications of the events transpiring all around him.

The world is noisy, now.

In the immediate area, the sparse crowd is trying to understand what just happened. What ensues are bodies impacting against the invisible pane of barrier, enquiring fingers picking at it, some people retreating back from it in abstract fear. The cars are inspected, and a rough circle— or rather, two rough semi-circles— loosely ring the gruesome divide of the private military contractor. Human flesh and bone shouldn't cut that easy. Nor should kevlar, for that matter, with nothing to be said for the pieces of automatic rifle.

But noisy, also, in a distance. The scream and crash of cars on the Queensboro Bridge is loud, the squeeee of brakes and the impact of metal and breaking glass as the vehicular traffic flow on the bridge that shadows over Roosevelt, from Queens to Manhattan, comes to a jamming halt. The complaint of horns, human voices, snags on the wind. Something happened over there too.

Further south, the Stillwater boat that was approaching kills its speed at something, a warning, dialed over.

The woman that Yana is tending to is really only capable of whimpers, at this point, hyperventilating and tears greasing tracks from the corners of her eyes, but she weakly allows the assistance — though she had kept the injury close and protective initially, she now keeps her arm held out for Yana like she wants nothing to do with it. Mostly also because she twists away and throws up her cafeteria lunch in spatters on the parking lot pavement.

No orders are immediately coming from the PMCs who are just as confused as everyone else, apparently, some inspecting what's going on with just as much curiousity, if a little bit more calm, and yet to notice— if they even could— Brand's actions in the wake of disaster. Mutters into radios crackle back and forth, some twisting to watch the bridge. There's the growl of engines, and all at once, the military trucks that had come down this way all move to sit on the major roads that lead out, blocking off vehicular access. As for access on foot—

That's what the guns are for. "Can I have your attention. All Evolved activity is to be stopped right now. Please get out your Registration cards. Move the injured to the left— " And a thrown arm indicates he means their left, not his, this military man beginning to deal out the orders. His other hand protectively grips rifle. "Along with all Suresh Centre employees. Everyone else, move to the right.

"Your assistance is appreciated."

Dr. Blite is taking care of the woman with the severed digits, and there's nothing to be done for the PMC who's lost his life now. Odessa's rebounding off the … something.

There is nothing in Brennan's Disaster Plan Binder to deal with this. None at all. Whatever this is. The Stillwater official is issuing off orders, heard from by him, and Brennan hesitates a moment before he's carrying out the directives of the armored and armed man. "You heard him. Let's go people, please have your cards ready and move to the appropriate side. Blite!" He calls to the scientist even as he's gently steering visitors to the center over to the civilian side and employees to the other side as per the orders of the PMC. "Get her laying down, hand up. I'll call 911 and get someone to you. Keep her calm though."

All Evolved activity is to be stopped? Odessa exchanges a look over her shoulder with Bella, a quick twitch of her lips seems to say right, like that's going to happen. Doctor Price is so good with authority, after all.

She had been about to issue her own instructions to Yana, but Brennan steps in to handle it, and so Odessa's quick to hurry back to Bella's side, pulling her into a tight hug. "For once in your life, sweetie… Don't get smart with authority, okay?" The plea is murmured against the other woman's ear before she's letting her go and heading over to the left with the other haters employees, and patients, fishing into her purse to retrieve her registration card.

A quick glance is given to the badge that identifies Doctor Price as an agent of the Department of Evolved Affairs. It stays tucked away for now. "Good thing we stopped for our bags, huh?"

"I- I hardly think this would be the time…" Bella reassures Odessa, breathlessly, her own mental binder pretty much empty when it comes to this scenario. She eases from foot to foot, glancing around. What is she supposed to be- oh yes. She's an employee. So to the left she goes, only going for her own registration card when she figures out what Odessa was doing. Too much happening all at once to keep track of instructions, though not this time out of stubbornness or contrariness, just simple distraction.

She isn't doing it. Yana is innocent in the act of.. whatever this thing is. Though whenever registration cards are called for, Yana cannot help but feel a little tug in her head, knowing that her card is different than what her ability actually is. She is doing all that she can to keep a calm head in this situation, so that she can keep the woman as chill as she possibly can, "I'll do my best," she says to Dr. Brennan while she wraps the woman's crippled hand. Her face twists more into disgust when the lady vomits off to the side. Actually bothering her greater than the blood does. "What is going on here?" she mutters to herself. If there are officers on her side that require her registration card, it is a good thing that she has he purse, which is sitting to the side of her. See? She needed these things. It was good she stopped for a second to grab them.

Laser focus and a useful Ability can get you far. Brand slips through the crowd around the half of the recently split mercenary, using them as a screen. Could he even be seen, inside that cluster? He kneels down, and with an almost casual motion slides the gun from its holster and into his deep pocket. Thanks to his gloves and the bisection, he doesn't have to touch any blood. Thankfully. He starts to move away, weaving back through the crowds to put distance between him and the merc. He pulls his hood tighter around his face and keeps turned away.

Oh, an announcement to cease all Evolved Activity and line up for execution? No. He moves quickly in the opposite direction, away from the soldiers, or parallel if the Dome blocks him. Either way, distance between himself and them.

The PMCs begin to move through the dividing crowd, taking cards and checking them over. One man in a business suit is gripped by the arm and brought forward, the word 'unmanifested' traded between soldiers as the employee simply shakes his head, no no no, he didn't do anything, wouldn't do anything. Brennan's card gets a second glance, before the soldier, without giving it back, twists at the waist to bark over his shoulder: "We got a negator, sir! Can you step this way?" A gesturing tip of his head indicates Brennan to come with. "I need you to carry out your ability on any— "

And then a noise like a giant's groan fills the area, making the ground beneath them rumble. Slowly but inevitably, the Manhattan side of the Queensboro Bridge begins to give from where its structure is severed from the land supporting arms, cables snapping in metallic screeches as a whole portion begins to collapse under the weight of cars, trucks, buses.

Dividing between employee and not, the inevitable dividing between Non-Evolved and Evolved, ceases for a moment as people stop to watch the western-most collapse the bridge, dust and debris streaking up into the sky, and it's that way that they can see it — another barrier, one that curves the higher it gets, highlighted for them by the smearing dust cloud. Vehicles tip into the river as if discarded, and the sound goes on and on.

"I need you to step this way," is among the first things said in the wake of it, the soldiers a little antsier now. Odessa is gripped by the arm and moved away from Bella, who in turn is ushered from her— a little gentler. Evolved are herded roughly forward for Brennan's perusal, all except those whose power allows them to slip on by undetected, and those on the other side of the barrier, the two soldiers kind of just watching once they find no 'generate massive fucking bridge-breaking forcefield kinesis'. That's good enough for them.

Less so for those on the other side. The inside.

A scuffle has the butt of a rifle impacting the small of someone's back, one of the patients, a sharp cry following and a drop to their knees, and there's a restless shift to the crowd. When a seabird innocently sails over head and snaps its neck some fifty feet up from the ground, tumbling to the ground with a soft thud, only some people notice. They're the lucky ones who start to wonder how high this thing is.

This city hates bridges. Or maybe it's just the terrorists who hate bridges? No, God hates bridges. With the instruction from the PMC to come forward, use his ability - something that he does with no complaint - Brennan pauses in the process, a hand comfortingly on someone's upper arm and assuring them that it's not them when the weird forcefield doesn't drop, looks up with everyone else when the bridge gives up the ghost and down she goes with lives on board.

He'd run towards there if he didn't think that it was a little too far, and that the already tremendously nervous PMC's wouldn't get trigger happy. As it stands they're already getting even more nervous from the looks of it which prompts a "Hey now!" from Brennan. He's not objecting to being asked (ordered) to negate people. This was why the Institute/Suresh Center hired him on top of his medical skills. He's objecting to the butt of a weapon used on a patient. "We're all scared here. Keep your mind about you," he jabbers off to the PMC in question. "Be the better man. Understand?" The man that he's currently going back to negating, he squeezes the arm of and gestures him back to the cleared group of people. "Go on, you'll be fine, it's not you"

Odessa flashes Bella a look that's meant to be reassuring when they're separated. It doesn't last when the rumbling begins and she just stares out at the collapsing bridge. It occurs to her once that she could try to halt the disaster. That she could attempt to evacuate people, like the last bridge disaster she was present for. But with the orders to cease use of her ability… Being a do-gooder just isn't in the cards. And maybe she wouldn't be able to reach it anyway. It's not her fault.

The white-haired doctor locks her gaze on Brennan and gives him a quick shake of her head, a silent plea for him not to negate her. If nothing else, the sensation is entirely uncomfortable for her. And if she's honest, this situation has her scared, and Odessa doesn't want to be without her ability. Not while there are men with guns.

North it is then. Brand escapes the fascist mercenary cordon before it closes with noose-like finality. The sound of an innocent being brutalized and oppressed elicits a flinch, but little else. He has himself to think of now - and his new mission is to find shelter on the encapsulated island.

"Just do your job, Doctor Brennan," is snapped back from the soldier. The implication being: or I'll do mine. Those with Evolved cards are shuffled into a line for inspection, an almost petulant attempt at gaining back order and control. If anyone believes that the culprit really stands amongst them, it's not seen in the bewildered expressions of the card-carrying Evos as they wait and try not to stare at the rifles that are not pointed at them. They point at the ground.

It'd hardly matter, if they made a choice. As Brand makes his escape from the penned in south section of the island, he'll see the people flooding out of their homes to watch the dust cloud of ruined bridge linger windlessly in the air, and it'll be all the way to the other end of the island before he encounters anyone who knows about the barrier. And he'll encounter the barrier itself, sealing off access to the north bridge that gets him out of here.

The sound of a helicopter dimly reaches their ears, a media aircraft coming up from the south, looking for the best coverage of yet another destroyed bridge.

"Ma'am?" From behind Yana, one of the two PMC officers tips his head towards the boat making its cautious approach to their little sliver of island. "We're gonna take you all to Manhattan," he says, in early acknowledgment that the invisible wall might not be coming down right away. "We'll need to question you." He's polite to the lady, the other contractor coming to help with the woman and her severed fingers. Bewildered, the south-side people begin to move for where the boat is coming closer. Some tilt their eyes to look up, curiously, at the approaching helicopter almost directly above them, or soon to be.

Only one of the soldiers blinks, and thinks to reach for his radio.

"My job is not to stand here beside you and negate everyone to your likely unfulfillable satisfaction," the tall silvering Doctor informs the soldier. "It's to treat the patients like the one you just butted. If you want me to do that further, then you'll need to contact my employer and have them request it of me. Till then, I'll check the unmanifested individuals. I'm pretty sure Sir, that you have two eyes and can read whether someone's ability is capable of doing whatever it is that killed your friend and cost that woman her fingers." He won't be negating you Dr. Price, don't worry.

Whatever else Brennan might be thinking to say, one hand hanging onto the binder, the other in his lab pocket as if that layer of cloth might warm up his hands, he looks up to the Helicopter when everyone else does.

Odessa's head lifts slowly at the sound of the helicopter, then track to the corpse of the seabird. "Oh no." Like a trainwreck, she can't peel her gaze away from the sky, fearing that she knows what's about to happen here.

She is relieved of the duty of handling the woman with the severed fingers as the officers approach Yana. She leaves the woman in their care and rises to her feet, looking up to the pair of them and offering a nod, "Yes, of course." she agrees to their terms and turns to look back at whatever it is that has put a barrier between where she was and the people she was with. It could have been worse for her. She could have ended up on that side, or.. she could have ended up like the woman, or the officer. Fortune smiled on her today, yet she is quite curious as to what is happening here. The woman moves to follow along with the officers as requested.

Brand walks through the now swelling crowd, his Ability using them to augment his anonymity. They are heading toward the disturbance, and he heads away. Though not too far. He lingers at the back-most section of the crowd, not leaving it just yet. That might be suspicious. Besides, he'd like to know what the helicopter is doing - or if its about to hit the strange force bubble thats been dropped.

Fascination, simple curiousity, dread, and even hope all eye the coming helicopter for those that take notice, the craft moving too quickly for anyone to think of anything much more merciful than that save for the soldier frantically trying to dial into someone relevant.

It's pretty. Kind of.

Its blades snap against the barrier above, driving momentum crushing metal and splintering glass as the helicopter flies nose-first into the immense invisible wall. It's a solid crack of collision, thunderous, tipping tail over end as to crushes itself like a bug, the explosion soon to follow in a bloom of fire that paints across the barrier some forty feet on either side, black and red and gold. Yana suddenly finds herself manhandled aside by the nearest contractor, fleeing out from beneath the collision and ensuing explosion. It leaves a stain of soot, hovering independent in the air.

Fiery debris shatters to the windows of the boat's wheelhouse, the captain having ducked moments before. Torn metal rains down on the sliver of south-side island, plummeting into the river where it's flung wide, and the mass of the helicopter plummets to land with a slam of fiery metal, crackling, burning, smoking black clouds upwards to grease along the clear barrier.

The group on the other side of the barrier only absently shuffle back like restless sheep. The understanding between what happens in here and what happens out there clearly quite easy a theoretical concept to grasp.

"Fucking Christ," is muttered near Yana's ear, where the soldier more or less flung himself over her to protect her. Brennan, for now, is left alone meanwhile — almost shoulder checked as the soldier turns his back to confer with his friends, what they need to do, but for now, he's permitted to act as he chooses.

Brennan stands there with the other 'sheep' watching with growing horror as the helicopter collides with the barrier and those inside likely loose their life. There's no words to describe it, not in his mind and what went from massive inconvenience and loss of two lives has suddenly started to skyrocket with the bridge and now Helicopter.

Odessa watches the crash and ensuing explosion with some interest, head tilting to one side slowly as she admires it with a certain sort of detachment that either speaks to the fact that she's fairly crazy, in general, or just how numb she is in this situation.

Except that fight or flight instincts slowly start to kick in, and it's taking everything Odessa has to stay rooted to the spot and ignore the screaming need to take to proverbial flight. Her fingers come up and wrap around the white gold nightingale at her throat, with its visible eye of emerald. She could disappear right now.

But not without Bella. And where would she escape to, anyway? The freaking barrier stretches into the sky. What's she going to do? Hide out in the basement of—

Odessa's head snaps suddenly to peer at the Suresh Center, and her lips curl upward into a small smirk, dimpling the scar across her mouth. Briefly. She catches herself, and wipes the smile off her face. Now it's all about the waiting game.

That look returns to Yana's face with the collision of the vehicle outside of what now appears to be a dome, given where the vehicle crashed. There is that terrified deer in headlights look that she has recently been making as her whole body locks up and she freezes, unable to make the move to get out of the way. That is when she is pulled out of the way and rushed off to the side by the officer, almost breaking the heel of her shoe in the process, covered in soldier for the moment until the moment passes, "This— this situation is getting completely out of hand." she remarks atop of the soldier's. It is time to leave, before anything else happens. More than enough excitement for one day for her. "Are we going? Please say we are going, I don't think I can handle much else." she clutches a hand just above her breast, as if her heart were giving her trouble.

Brand doesn't need to stay around much longer after seeing that. Now the time to slink away through the back streets and alleys to put maximum distance between him and the military. Exit Brand!

"We're leaving," is definite enough for Yana, probably, as soon as the other soldier confirms that the captain of the vessel isn't run through with fiery debris. Those that board the boat barely even look back on the barrier, save for wary or relieved glances. Yana is helped aboard, and those stuck between a wall of soldiers and a wall of unknown invisible apparently indestructible material are left to watch them head for Manhattan.

Wisely, they stay south. And drive slowly.

The ones that remain are left to watch the winter wind slowly erode away the soot on the face of the barrier, showing no damage beneath it — no burns, no scars, no holes. Snow and sleet patters against the other side, and Odessa was wrong about something, maybe, as the clouds continues to shake snow down from the sky. It's not really like being in a snow globe.

Quite the reverse.

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