Not So Dull Anymore


christine_icon.gif emerson_icon.gif huruma3_icon.gif

Scene Title Not So Dull Anymore
Synopsis For everyone involved, a boring day becomes more interesting.
Date November 23, 2010

Staten Island

Staten Island, by many means, is a No Man's Land after a certain point. Literally and not. While the island itself has not been closed down to the degree of Roosevelt Island, it still has had its own issues to deal with; the rioting here was considerably more criminal, and now those still on the worse parts of the islands are certainly there for no good reasons. Parts of the more residential areas have been protected by the police and some FRONTLINE operatives, though not even they can be everywhere at once. Sometimes they are drawn out into the more shady areas for patrols and similar runs, cycling in and out of duties in watching out for the regular residents.

But even for those on the island illegally, and those here for less than nice things- there are always reasons for it.

A series of shots ring out through a sidestreet, off of a street somewhat deep into the center districts. The part of the patrol area where it is just nearly deep enough to be part of the grit, yet still one of the few scouting locations still run through by the police and FRONTLINE. It is only a few shots- three, four- but the sound is unmistakable as high caliber, and in the distance amid the softly fluttering snow, the telltale yelps and screams of those they have struck.

Being assigned to Staten Island isn't the most prestigious of assignments, but at least it's not the most boring of assignments either. For most NYPD officers, it means getting paired off with a FRONTLINE member as opposed to working with their regular partner. That's how it is for Christine Jackson. She's been assigned to Staten Island this evening and has been paired off with a one Hannah Emerson. While there's been a little chitter chatter between the two as they've made their way to and around their patrol area, it's been a generally quiet night. Except for, that is, when a series of gun shots go off. Instinctively, Christine draws her own gun and looks over to Emerson. In an affirmed nod and a motion toward where the gun shots came from, she starts to make her way in that direction.

This is Hannah’s first night out on patrol since her assignment to FRONTLINE, her first night out and about in her Horizon armour, something she’s still getting accustomed to. The experience of being out and about, outside of carefully constructed training regimens has been good for her – if lacking in any sort of excitement, at least she’s been out of the base.

She had been just about to ask something of Christine, and even now she can’t remember what, when the sound of shots rings out. Her head snaps in the direction to the sound. Much like Christine, for the moment she favours her side arm, the pistol withdrawn and aimed forward catiously. “Just when the evening seemed boring,” she quips, before giving a nod to Christine. “Come on, stay close.”

From the sound of it, there seem to be at least half a dozen men trying to scrabble out of the alleyway; only when a few of them are out do they actually notice the suit of armor and its cop sidekick making headway down the street. Truth be told, they look far more terrified of whatever it is they were running from. Still at a fair distance, it is clear that the last one to run from the mouth of the alleyway is bleeding from his leg, hobbling and fumbling. He won't be getting away anytime soon, it is the other ones they have to worry about. One of the runners unhooks a pistol from the back of his pants, ducking behind a skeleton of an old Subaru and taking aim at the pair of women. He's the first to do this, not the last, as soon three others are doing the same, leaving the wounded man to run for himself; there was one other, but he is still booking it as quickly as he can muster.

Already the standoff is tilted, but only for those first few seconds where nobody fires whatsoever.

A high caliber shriek pierces the air, plucking a sizable hole into the face of one of them. The shot didn't come from the alley- there is only a pair of bodies there now. It surely didn't come from behind Emerson and Christine, either. None of the remaining trio care, however, as a split second later they are opening fire. There are dumpsters in the mouths of alleys, more idle or dead cars, but no barricades or cement blocks cutting over the street. Classic urban warfare.

Well, if they lacked excitement before, they'll certainly be getting said excitement now. Christine gives a chuckle to Emerson, but before she can say anything, there's people running out of an in the general direction of the gun shots. "Stop! Police!" What can she say? It's habit. Uh-oh…the bad guys have guns too. "Duck and hide!" She says urgently to Emerson, although she probably doesn't have to tell the other woman that, as she rushes behind an abandoned volvo. When the shrieking bullet sound reaches Christine's ears and looks about, she sees one of the other men fall. "Where in the blue blazes did that come from?" She doesn't have time to find out, though, as she's immediately ducking back behind the car again.

The loud crack of that high calibre fire has Hannah very glad she’s wearing this suit of armour, for what good it’ll do. “FRONTLINE, cease and desist!” sounds like very formal and scripted warning offered to the hooligans, even as the sparks of bullets colliding with the metal frame of the abandoned car, heightened by the digitized sound of Hannah’s voice as she speaks.

Still, she’s not one to simply stand out in the open, and she finds her own abandoned car to hide behind, split across from Christine. “//I can do this all day, boys. I would recommend you give up before someone gets hurt.” As if to make a point, she raises her sidearm and squeezes off two shots, intentionally missing, but hopefully relaying how serious she is. They don’t know it, but that’s their only warning.

The guy who just got shot in the face? Somehow, he's still alive. The shot has essentially clipped off his lower jaw, and when he crumples out into the street, a second shot- again from nearby- takes out his brain. The boy slumps onto the pavement, red pooling out around him.

"Come now, stop playing…" Huruma murmurs to herself, from a rooftop parallel to the street where she is now watching the ensuing altercation between the police and these few gun-happy jokers. The sniper rifle pinned to her shoulder allows its nose to stick out only a few inches over the wall of the roof. Look harder, girls. "West wiiind, blow ye gentle… for the souls of yesterday…" Another shot shrieks and slams into the ground beside the man ducking behind the Subaru. He yelps and leaps to dodge something that was never actually going to hit him. Okay, so maybe Huruma is still playing around, humming to herself and only mumuring words when she is about to pull again.

"Guard each gallant warrior's claim… I am the soil from which they came…" Another round fires, this time pummeling into brick nearest the man hobbling down the street. He falls over, likely thinking he got hit again. That was silly of him, wasn't it?

"Stop now. We don't want anyone to get hurt!" Shouts Christine, from behind the car she chose. "We don't have to do this! It can be nice and easy. How about that, huh? Why do any of us have to make this more difficult than it has to be!" She lets out a warning shot of her own in the direction of the men with guns. If she were one to notice little bits of high calibre guns points over rooftops, she might dare to look for the one that's shooting at the same guys that she's shooting at. At the present moment, however, she's more concerned about not getting shot herself.

Goddamnit, I think someone is playing cat and mouse with these idiots,” Hannah remarks, sidearm returned to its holster. Now it’s time for her own rifle to come out, an automatic as opposed to Huruma’s sniper rifle. She rises up from her hiding spot just in time for a bullet to go whizzing past her helmet – and another 9mm punches right into her shoulder, sending her stumbling back like she just got punched full force.

When Hannah recovers herself, a strong of curses is audible to everyone around. At least it was just a 9mm bullet and not one of the higher calibre bullets being flung around. Someone was going to be pissed, though, she knew that much. “Jackson, scan the rooftops for muzzleflash or anything unusual!,” the Sergeant instructs. “And stay low, in case whoever’s shooting decides to turn their sights on us!”

For her part, Hannah’s had it. She pops back up again, squeezing out a line of automatic gun fire across the Subaru as she starts forward. “Put your guns down, or I will put them down for you.” She’s moving quickly towards their position, hoping staring down rifle and armour will drive the point home – or whoever else is shooting will distract long enough for her to punch someone, if that’ll get the point across better.

Humming while shooting is not a pasttime of Huruma's, but it seems to make it that much easier. Her targets are not the two officers, nor is she actually hitting the men that came between them. She is not being too concerned with either of them spotting her muzzle flashes, either. Emerson's aim rings more true, and that of Christine serves as a reason that the former's bullets pierce one of the two left. Christine sent one ducking, but when the other stumbled from Huruma's fire, it was enough to make the first move out of hiding. Emerson's bullet hits him in the shoulder, and he sprawls backwards onto the concrete.

The thing is, however, Huruma is not meaning to allow any of the ones that stayed to go. Two rounds pummel into the fallen men, cracking heads like eggshells. That only leaves one more, and he seems uncertain about keeping this up. A pistol skitters out across the road, in his moment of looking for surrender.

"I'm inclined to agree, but I can't seem to see where they're shooting from!" Christine responds to Emerson. Her eyes go slightly wide as Emerson's shoulder gets it. "Are you alright?" She asks of the woman she's partnered tonight. She shakes her head, starting to look at the rooftops as requested of her. When she notices Emerson starting to move out of cover, she hisses, hopefully loud enough to be heard, "What are you doing? You're leaving yourself exposed!" Crazy FRONTLINE lady! It's then that she sees the muzzle flash from the mystery shooter's gun from a few buildings down. "I saw it! I saw where the other shooter is!" She says as she rushes quickly to hide behind another car just further up.

Open, yes, but the armour helps with that. Plus, hopefully, it’ll show just how serious she is about getting this guy to surrender. Which it seems has been accomplished, judging from the pistol sliding across the pavement. “Get your ass down on the ground unless you want to end up like your friends!” Word used loosely, of course. The barrel of the rifle remains trained on the man, looking over towards Christine. She’s sure the sniper can hear them, it can’t be that hard. “Point it out,” she says a bit more quietly, looking around the rooftops herself. She has no idea who it is tthat just turned the street into a small bloodwash, but Hannah’s immediate desire to find them and kick their ass.

Or call for backup. Maybe.

We’ll see.

The man that surrendered his gun slinks out onto the road, hands and knees moving him onto the ground, flat as can be. This would be where normally, he would be arrested. Cuffed, hung up to dry. Huruma has other ideas. That place he has lied down on soon becomes the last thing he chooses to do with his life; the peel of the rifle chimes again, and his head, like the others, bursts red upon the road.

"Five points, ladies." Assuming that the FRONTLINE operative is a woman. Huruma's voice, deep as it is, is still able to carry down from the rooftop she is on. Smooth as silk, completely unruffled. "But I don'ave time for round two, today."

Christine starts, slowly, to move ever so slightly into the open as the last man standing decides to surrender. "Second building down to the left. The roof. That's where our hidden shooter is!" Responds to Emerson, just before that last man is shot down. As the head explodes, she jumps back. She may be wearing clothing to protect her from shots as well, but she's still scared as all cats in a hat. As the voice rings out, she slowly moves to stand beside Emerson. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

I’m thinking we have some crazy asshole up on a roof,” Hannah replies, even as she hears the sniper callout to them, drawing her attention back to the rooftop. She ducks down and back out of the line of fire, looking back at Christine. “Either someone decided target practice was today, or we have some whacked out vigilante who isn’t nice enough to put on white and get face to face.” She waits a moment to see if there’s any more fire, before nodding. She has no idea if Christine knows the same handsingals she does, but she does her best to motion for the other toman to stay low and get close to the wall – they’re going to advance. Doing it without being seen is something she can only hope for.

Huruma has nothing left here. She leaves the rifle on the roof, already starting to wind her way down towards the back door. She assumes they're coming to get her, of course, and she has no time for shenanigans with the law. Knowing which way she came in is hidden, gives her a significant advantage in getting back out untethered. While Christine and Emerson are involving themselves with approaching the building, Huruma is busy slipping out of the back door and down the alley behind, aiming to circle around and onto the street behind them again. Simple enough, perhaps- and she is certainly quiet enough. Ready, set?

Go! "That's exactly what I was thinking, ma'am." Comes Christine's quiet reply, even if she wouldn't have put it exactly in those words. But hey, everyone words things differently. Maybe, on a different day, Christine would have worded it like that. She nods, "Vigilantes think they're doing good, an' maybe they are, but not only do we gotta clean up the mess they leave behind AND look for them, it also makes us look bad." While the last little bit is perhaps said with a tad bit of humour (you gotta have humour even in the toughest of times, right?), Christine does follow Emerson's hand signals. Quite well too. Either they were really clear, or she knows the same hand signals. As they start to move, she signals that she's got an eye on the roof and that, once they're far enough ahead, she's going to circle around to the back.

Hannah is more than okay with this plan, sprinting forward in the hopes of catching whoever happens to be shooting before they can get away. There’s been no more shots, they’ve been in clear sight – she already knew it would be luck if they still happened to be in there, but as she rounds the building’s entrance and looks for stairs, she makes it clear she has no intentions of stopping until she finds out one way or another.

Huruma's venture out the back allows her to feel Christine coming; of the two, Huruma is less worried about the uniformed officer. If the Frontline one had been coming around back, then she would probably worry. As it stands, she is left to slink along the rear wall of the building, wrench a pistol out from under her light fur coat, and make a heading for where this alley meets with the next, opposite of where Christine is coming around back. If she moves quickly enough, the cop may well get a good glimpse of a thin fur coat, and a pair of long, black-clad legs and heels.

All work and no play makes Huruma dull. Just dull.

Pussyfooting her way into the back alleyway area of the building, Christine is lucky enough, whether that luck be bad or good, to catch sight of…some part of someone disappearing…somewhere. Some other part of the alley, perhaps? An adjoining lane? Not daring to make any unnecessary noises, not even to call the FRONTLINE person she's partnered with, she turns the safety off of her gun and walks toward where she saw the disappearing parts of a person. Pressing herself up against the wall right near the lane and takes a deep breath, psyching herself up and getting ready for whoever may be there. Another deep breath and she moves into plain view of the lane. What does she see? What happens next? Only time will tell.

Hannah wastes no time in hoofing it up as quick as she can to the roof, rifle held out and at the reach with every step forward. It’s when she reaches the top floor, having seen nothing of the sniper or her tracks, that she peers out a window and down to Christine. “Any luck, Jackson?” She had her doubts, but maybe the other woman had gotten lucky where she had seemingly come up dry. She takes a moment to scan down at the street from her vantage point, but no further luck in spotting their assailent.

Technically speaking, Huruma was never assailing either of them. But, even now, she makes an effort to slink away and wriggle right out of grasp. It is successful; she has been at this far too long. When Christine rounds the corner, there is nobody in sight, and the tracks made by Huruma's heels in thin layer of cold slush are as indeterminate as the melting patterns of the water draining to the underground.

All that excitement leading up, and nothing to show for it. Maybe next time.

Christine sighs and rolls her eyes. All that and nothing. Maybe she was actually just imagining things. The dark light does that to a person. Of course, so do Evolved people. So it's hard to say one way or another. Looking up at the building, she just shakes her head. "No. Nothing. Looking like the person got away. That's if she got down here." Holstering her gun she says, "Well, let's scour the roof, see if she left anything, whether on purpose or by mistake and call in the rest of our fun night. I'll be right up." And that is, as they say, that.

Hannah grumbles as she hears Christine’s reply, continuing her way up tot he roof. Shot in the shoulder, nothing to show for it. Not even some punks to take back in as arrests. Not to mention, while she’d been holding it for the moment, there was a good chance in the next few moments she was going to be snapping her helmet off and considering being sick over just how well those headshots had done their jobs. She had seen a lot in the Middle East. But you never get used to anything like that.

Sighing, she walks her way back to window and peers out, calling down to Jackson. "Come on up. We'll do a quick report, and then I'll call it. They'll be interest to head about this, at least knowing that someone with a damn good rife and a steady hand is popping heads around here."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll be right up." Christine shakes her head. She hasn't even begun to process the dead bodies. That will come later. Focus on one task at a time and take it from there. Focusing helps delay any unpleasant side affects. And so, in short order, she's through the front doors of the building and she's making her way up slowly, floor by floor.

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