Participants:
| Scene Title | Norman And The Colossus |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Norman White tries to discover what happened at Roosevelt Island, and sets his sights on a new target. |
| Date | October 13, 2009 |
Dirty yellow light shines down from street lamps in the cold, drizzling rain. The soft patter of that precipitation falls down on the nylon dome of a black umbrella held aloft, matte finish more glossy from the rivulets of rainwater sheathing down it. Shadowed by the umbrella, Elijah Carpenter walks with a slow and steady pace, a young girl huddled close to his side beneath that same shelter from the rain. As "Doc" turns to look down at her, she looks up towards a man standing in the middle of the rainy street.
Norman White is slowly taking a knee when Risa's eyes settle on him, a large hand brushing across the asphalt, rainwater running down his face, blonde hair tangled and swept back behind his head. "Is this where it happened?" The question is more rhetoric than honesty, bitterness drilling thorugh the tone as he looks up towards the looming skeleton of the abandoned Tram station ahead of him, then over his shoulder to Doc.
"Yeah— Yeah, Norman. This is where it happened." Doc's gloved fingers partly unwind from the handle of the umbrella with those words, and he offers it out to Risa. The young girl offers a faint smile, taking the umbrella as she steps away from Doc, leaving the old man to pop up the collar of his trenchcoat and tip dowm the brim of his fedora, feeling a few icy droplets of rain drip down the back of his neck.
Looking back down to the wet asphaly, Norman slowly rises up to stand as he turns his mighty weight to look back towards Risa. One of Norman's hands clutches his other, fingers working across his knuckles as the digits on his grasped hand twitch out of his control. Hesitating for only a moment, Risa is quick to approach the goliath of a man, her dark eyes upturned to his far lighter ones, concern evident in them as she spares no words that would damage his pride.
"It's getting worse…" Norman murmurs, flexing that hand open and closed. "Just— " his brows furrow, head shaking from side to side slowly, "do your thing, Risa. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." Heavy footfalls circle around and away from Risa, as Norman starts to head towards Doc, leaving the young girl alone in the middle of the street. Risa tenses up, turns to look over her shoulder and watch Norman, then dips her head down into a slow nod.
Standing by Doc now, Norman's voice is hushed as he addresses the older man. "How much more vicodin do you have left?" Doc jerks an awkward stare up towards the far taller man. Brows furrow, and a droplet of rain glimmers off of the front of his fedora, twinkling in the yellow luight from the street lamps. "Don't— give me that look."
"If you keep pushing yourself," Doc states with a hiss of breach, a weathered old hand moving in to the pocket of his trenchcoat where a plastic rattling sound is muffled, "you're going to fuse the bones in your hand, or worse. I can't take care of her…" a nod is given in the direction of Risa, who is absent-mindedly wandering the street now, twirling her umbrella around in one hand. "She can't well take care of herself."
"Just— " About to yell at Doc, White cuts himself off and changes his tone. "Just give me the pills and we'll worry about that later." Doc's hand slides out of the pocket, holding out an orange plastic perscription bottle that is shakily taken by Norman. "I'm doing this for all of you. Doc, you know what's gonna' happen. You know what's next after that prison. You're the one who told me what your father went through back in the war."
Dark brows furrow, and Doc looks away, no longer arguing with Norman. There's no smug pride of victory there, no smiles, just the shaky pop of a child-proof cap coming off, and the rattle of tiny pills coming out into the palm of Norman's hand. The blue-eyed giant stares down at Norman, popping the handful of pills into his mouth, tilting his head back and opening his mouth to the rain for a moment before swallowing.
He has good timing with the swallow. A moment later and he might have choked on his pills.
"Marina! Marina!" Doc's screaming is rasped and wheezing as he hits the ground hard when Helena drags him down, bullets whipping past them before the gunfire — save for the wild shot by Danko — ceases. The bulldozer, left to its own devices, comes smashign through the front of that record store, sending glass and masonry spilling into the street as it rampages through the interior of the building. The Irishman and his partner are up and moving, both crossing the street, laying down a suppressive gunfire that keeps the crowd away, bullets aimed to keep people ducking for cover.
Norman jerks his head to the side, eyes wrenching shut, like he was struck in the brow by something. The pill bottle falls out of his hand, clattering to the pavement. At his side, Doc brings his hands up to his head, wincing. They've both felt this before, but it doesn't change how frightening and disorienting it is.
The world dizzies for Helena, pain in her shoulder suddenly present as she rolls onto her back, limbs feeling numb and tingle as she hears gunfire continuing. "Sweet Jesus any time now Norman…" Doc murmurs as he grabs Helena by the collar, trying to help her up to her feet.
And that's the moment when a bullet rips through the old man's abdomen and sends him stumbling away from Helena, clutching the bleeding wound. Doc chokes wetly, limping on one side as the sound of squealing tires come into the fore over the gunfire. Throwing himself to the ground, Doc barely manages to avoid a van that comes peeling down the street, smoke billowing out from its back tires as it sideswipes one of the fleeing pedestrians.
The back doors swing open, facing towards where Wendy is, and four men in black masks come rushing out, one of them with a black cloth sack, the other with a pair of zip ties, and the last two brandishing tasers. They circle up around behind Wendy, moving in to grab her, while the organizer of this snatch and grab quickly makes his way towards the young blonde and the bleeding speedster, ejecting the clip from his gun as he marches over. "Of all the places t'run inta' you." Bill Dean has no idea what's just happened.
Risa lets out a whimper, the umbrella falling from her hands as she stumbles forward, hands moving up to hold the sides of her head before she drops down to her knees. Old and worn jeans scuff against the wet pavement, already torn holes in the knees leave the collision of her body to the ground more painful than it would have been otherwise. But the throbbing pulse of agony running up her spine to the base of her neck drowns out all the rest for Risa.
Marina's world also goes black and white, and with the bleeding, red all over, she gasps as if coming out of a dream. "Did I fall asleep?" she asks stumblingly, and then turns…and stares at Helena. Scrambling back with a scream unadulterated horror, she seems heedless to men with guns, and as she gets to her feet, she moves faster and faster without seeming to realize it when— zip! She's gone.
"Marina— " Norman breathes out the words as he sees what's happening, "God— God-damnit." Caloused fingers wind in tangled locks of dirty-blonde hair, and Norman struggles to keep his sense of balance as he lumbers from one side to the other. Doc too seems to have a hard time keeping his footing as the past and the present superimpose themselves atop one another.
All Risa can do is clutch her head and whimper, shoulders shaking until the the pain stops. A shuddering sob erupts from the back of the girl's throat, and once the torrent of visions come to an end, Doc shakily starts making his way to that surrogate daughter that Risa has become. He's slow yo pick up the umbrella, uneasily lifting it up with a wavering hand as he crouches by her side, one hand out on her shoulders.
The young girl's fingers are raked thorugh her rainsoaked hair, and it's all she can do to breathe in hissing breaths and cry from the lingering pain pounding inside of her skull. Doc's eyes uplift, settled towards Norman, who under the yellow glow of the streetlight and the falling rain just watches on in silence, blue eyes peering out dully towards the two. His lips downcast, head tilts forward, and the ground gives a distant rumble of discontent.
Doc stays by Risa's side, in silence, for as long as it takes. His hand never moves from her shoulder, save to smooth through her hair and wordlessly reassure her that she's not alone. He lied to Norman, back there, lies about not being able to take care of her. He can, of that he has no doubt, but the memory of the daughter that he no longer has — and the family he lost — makes it all the more difficult to pretend to be someone else's father.
"Norman?" The question finally comes shakily, and only once Risa has finally stopped crying. The name brings the giant of a man out of whatever stupor he was in, head shaking and eyes lifting up towards Doc's crouched form. The silent stare exchanged by the two is almost challenging. Doc's desire to let this whole mad quest go and find somewhere to lay low and hide, and Norman's passionate desire to no longer play the patsy, Norman's singular belief that he was chosen. It plays out in an instant, but it's one short span of time that feels like so much longer.
By the time Norman breathes out a hushed, "Yeah," Doc's already helping Risa to her feet. "Yeah let's…" blue eyes close and Norman's head shakes slowly, the chill from the cold rain finally sinking in to his aching bones. He turns, looking at something unseen over his shoulder in the gloom of night and the dark of the rain. "Doc?"
"Yeah?" The old man hesitates, looking to Norman expectantly as the blonde man keeps staring off into the distance.
"We're going to give them one more warning." The resolute tone of Norman's voice gives Doc pause, "Then I start taking cities. One by one, as long as I can lift my hands up." Doc's neck tenses, and the seed of doubt planted so deep by Richard Cardinal finally begins to take root. Wary eyes drift over to Risa's weak and staggering frame, then settle back up on Norman uncertainly. "We don't know if we can trust Phoenix— we don't know if we can trust anyone. So we're in this one alone." His brows lower into a glare, "Just us."
"What— " He almost hates to ask, "what's the last warning going to be?"
Norman turns, finally making eye contact with Doc again. "I'm going to take from the city what they took from us…" For a moment, all Doc can do is stare at Norman with a lack of recognition in his eyes. But Norman White doesn't let that uncertainty linger for long as he elaborates ever so subtly; "Liberty."