Sundown, You Better Take Care


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Scene Title Sundown, You Better Take Care
Synopsis If the cops find you creeping around Little Italy and ignoring the curfew a little past midnight.
Date January 20, 2011

Little Italy

Curfew in the city of New York is at nine. Not nine-fifteen, nine-thirty or ten. Not even a little after midnight which is what any clock in the city would read and why the moon sits where it sits. The witching hour, good for some, bad for others. In this corner of little italy the streets should be dead. People should be tucked away behind their doors and dreaming of a better New York where everyone can be out and party to the wee hours of the night and tourists provide ample thieving for pick pockets at the traditional tourist traps.

The blue glow of televisions can be seen behind the curtains in some of the windows on this street of small businesses crammed in beside one another with small and absurdly priced apartments above. Street lamps illuminate the sidewalks with their trash piled up beside cans and waiting city workers to come by in the morning and make the streets clean for the individuals who will pound it's pavement.

A stray cat lingers at the mouth of an alley, back arched as it's just risen from it's corner, stretching and contemplating where to find it's meal. It's a long time till curfew lifts, but there are still some who would skirt the laws of justice because they want to, they like to or because they have no choice.'

Elle has been a good girl, the past few months. She hasn't gotten into too much trouble lately. Really, she's been extremely well behaved, all things considered. But sometimes, just sometimes, she feels that lovely urge to break the laws. Remnants from her days of rebelling against her father's iron-fisted rule while growing up.

Sometimes, you just feel a little rebellious.

And so, Elle, who is wearing a nice bit of spray-in hair dye that turns her hair black, as well as a pair of brown contacts, is out and about. It doesn't matter to her that it's cold as hell. In fact, she seems quite comfortable in her jeans, fuzzy boots, and light hoodie (with the hood drawn up). She's decided to make a late-night trip over to Dax's, in part to see her fella, in part to get out of Redbird, in part to just get the thrill of breaking the law. Her little middle finger to the government.

There's always some bit of Elaine that gets extremely nervous being out after curfew. Nervousness or not, it doesn't stop her from being out. Especially since it was hard to hide a coded letter for Perry in her usual drop-spot when it was light out or there were people around. With the letter safely tucked away, the redhead makes sure her jacket is completely buttoned up to keep out the cold as she hurries along towards her destination—home. Hopefully Quinn hadn't noticed her slip out in the first place or she'd have some explaining to do.

"I'm not even supposed to be here tonight."

While Evan is no more a fan of the government than the others, he hasn't been going out of his way to break the curfew. He'd gotten back to his apartment with time to spare, and was about to crash, and then—

Three hours earlier

"Evan? It's Jim. Listen, I'm in a real fix here— busted pipe or something, whole apartment's flooding. —No, if I wait till morning, half the furniture's gonna be ruined! —Yeah, course I'd bail you out, least I could do."

Maybe it won't come to that, Evan thinks to himself. Obviously they don't have enough cops for every little side street. As long as it's just me out here— Naturally, that's the exact moment that Elaine's silhouette first comes into view. So much for the power of positive thinking.

Any cop would say that working the overnight shift sometimes leaves something to be desired. Of course, when you're in a squad car and have good company, what more could you really ask for? Other than a simple night without many issues, of course. Christine is doing the driving tonight, with Aude sitting beside her. While eyes are constantly peeled for any signs of trouble, or just plain people caught out after dark, the two cops are chatting away, laughing at this, frowning at that. It's really an average night, all in all. If you can call being on the lookout for anything suspicious 'average'.

A convergence of individuals, a matter of wrong time, wrong place for many as that white vehicle with the blue stripe, NYPD shield on it's sides, lights on it's top and cage wall between front and back seat. So many here on this corner are just the kind with luck bad enough that they would run across a patrol while out after curfew. Maybe it's murphey's law that with so many in one small area that the cops are just drawn to the area.

Maybe Christine and Aude just happened to be going through here like they're supposed to instead of some who would sit in the nite owl and wait till they're called in. But the car creeps along, headlights cutting a swatch across the snow laden streets and Aude's - laughing at whatever CHristine just aid - reaches over, lightly slapping the other black woman on the arm and pointing to the trio who have become visible in the headlights. "Breakers"

Flicks goes the really bright light and with a press of a button **WHOOP WHOOP* goes the siren in a warning. Stay put where you are or else. "And here I thought we'd go the night without catching anyone" The petite'r one of the two mutters, getting ready to get out when Christine stops the car.

A frown forms on Elle's face as she starts spotting other people. What the hell…this isn't cool. She's supposed to be alone. Elle doesn't make any effort to stop and chat with the other two as she passes, simply shoving her hands into her hoodie pocket and huddling to hide her face from those gathered. No need to let them see her, even if she does look different than normal.

Then, the light is on, and that telltale siren is sounding, and Elle freezes in her tracks, her back turned to the police car. Oh, bloody hell, isn't this just perfect luck. She's done this before— why did this have to happen tonight? She turns, peering at the car. She could run, and probably get shot at, or she could stay, and probably get arrested.

Unless she stays and beats them to the shooting. Cautiously, her hands raise into the air. Better to face them than to face bullets from a gun.

Shitshitshitshitshit. This is not what Elaine wants right now. Normally it wouldn't bother her to be caught. She'd pay a fine. She's never had a lick of trouble and so she's pretty clean when it comes down to things. Of course, there was a comment by a certain ex-boyfriend of hers that had her just a little more uncomfortable about authority figures asking her questions. So when the lights come up, she freezes like a deer (doe-eyes and all) and blinks as she notices she's not the only one caught. Misery loves company. Shit. What's a good cover story.

Aaaaaand there goes 'maybe only fellow civilians will be here' out the proverbial window. At this point, Evan's down to hoping that one of the others will be more of an attention magnet than he is— hey, it worked last time, at least. At least he doesn't have to worry about coming up with a story, in his case the truth is just as good - or bad - as anything else.

With a bit of a sigh, Christine pulls the car over and raises an eyebrow at Aude. "I know, right? I was hoping for a quiet night. But now it looks like we'll be maybe booking some people. Which of course means paperwork!" SIGH! "Okay, well…let's get this over with and get them dealt with. The sooner with finish this off, the better." She says with a nod, turning off the car and gets out, slamming her door behind her. "Can I have your attention, please, folks!" She says loudly, keeping a cautious hand on her holstered gun.

Out they go, Christine taking the fore of the operation:gather the roaches while Aude's tilting her head to the radio attached to a loop on her vest. "Dispatch" She mutters into it, rattling off a series of digits that have meaning to the person on the other end of the car, the camera turning on in the front of the vehicle to record any and all that might go down here on the street.

Behind a curtain which twitches to the side, many other curtains as people who are still awake or those who woke with the noise of the siren, there's a handful of people who peer out with bleary sleep ridden eye's or alert ones to watch what's going on down on the street.
Elle pages: About how far is the nearest hidey place that Elle could slip into? Like, alleys or something.

Shitshitshit. What to do? Cardinal and Liz are going to kill her if they have to bail her out. They'll also kill her if she runs. She makes sure to keep her face turned away from the light, shielding her eyes from the brightness. Enough to keep her face off of the record. She's also glancing around at her surroundings, a frown on her face.

Couple her different appearance with this new ability, they might not recognize her. Eyes widen slightly as the woman calls dispatch. Shitshitshit. This is not cool. Nope…she's not going to get in trouble for this. She's got anonymity on her side…and she's planning on using it. Just a little longer, Elle…let them get a little closer…

They couldn't possibly take her in, right? Elaine could come up with a believable story, she's pretty sure, and there's the fact that she has no real record… that should get her bonus points. Which means she should be just fine, so long as no one else did something stupid. Maybe she'd be lucky and someone else would get taken in instead of her. She swallows hard, just waiting.

Walking in the general direction of the three people, Christine's voice rings out again, "Could you all please come to me? One neat little group. The easier you make it on us, the better everything will be." While that's left to be seen, and while her one hand is still resting eerily close to her holstered gun, Christine is walking slowly, taking on a non-threatening stance.

Quick, Evan, think. Who are you dealing with here? Can't see the cops yet, too much glare. Don't recognize the one face. The other, though… Last year, during the Endless Blizzard of '10. Looks a bit deer-in-the-headlights there. "Hey, we're just trying to get to a friend's place! Plumbing's busted, needs some help." A quick sidelong glance, and a clank of metal as the toolbox is hoisted into view. Hopefully it's large enough not to be mistaken for a revolver.

Christine may be non-threatening but Aude's hand is on her weapon, flashlight up and being flicked to the respective faces. If it makes it harder for most of them to discern the one woman from another, no pity. Elaine, and Elle remain where they are and pose no harm. Evan really doesn't pose any harm either lifting up his toolbox and giving an actually pretty plausible excuse for being out here.

But his luck runs out, and when all has cleared, footage will show that it's all the fault of that tabby cat in the alley not far behind Evan.

It jumps onto a trash can, loosing traction from ice that's built up on top and he goes down, bringing the can with him with a resounding crash.

Aude's weapon is out like lightening, already not liking this many people out and her own experience leads her to the terribly racist thought - and statistic - that most people out after curfew are either terrorist, or evolveds. Both are not high up in her book of forgiving. "PUT YOUR WEAPON DOWN!" She yells even as…


Her gun goes off and a bullet cuts through the air, slicing across Evans cheek and embedding itself in the alley wall.

The second shot comes so soon after the first that it sounds like Aude squeezed the trigger twice in quick succession, but it's Aude's shoulder and not Evan's that blooms red and spatters the side of Christine's face and uniform in her fellow officer's blood.

Evan's earlier observation about his being wrong is correct, but with a twist: not only are there cops out on patrol in addition to his 'fellow civilians', there are enemy combatants as well. The shooter steps into view a moment later, appearing in the mouth of the alley that the tabby streaked from, and although the glow of the street lamps is sallow, Elaine will recognize the combination of pale skin, dark hair and polished glass eyes.

Eileen Ruskin knows Aude Castalides. It's probably why she leveled her pistol with her and not Christine.

A grimace forms on Elle's face as Christine moves closer, her eyes flitting between the two cops. She doesn't recognize either of them. Probably all the better for what is to come, she's certain. The thuggish clothing she wears, the hair, the eyes, and the whole radioactive ability— well, that all begs a lot of questions when her registration states that she's a blonde haired blue eyed electrokinetic.

Her hands still raised, Elle is just about to step toward Christine, when suddenly, a gun goes off. She freezes for just a second, brown eyes widening. Then, they narrow. Oh, she did not just shoot at that guy for lifting up his tool box. Bitch is gonna go down.

Oh, she just got shot by someone else. Elle doesn't bother sparing a glance. This is bullshit! Police brutality! Both of her hands begin to glow; from Elle's pocket comes a sharp clicking noise, reminiscent of a Geiger counter. In fact, it is a geiger counter. One hand is leveled at that gun on Christine's hip; no use letting the other one draw her gun. Any severe burning that happens as a result is not her fault; they're the ones going around and shooting at people! The other hand shoots out towards one of the tires on the police car.

Damn police brutality.

The gunshot startles Elaine. She hasn't heard a gunshot since… well, since it was coming out of a gun in her hand. It's a very sobering sound, and when the second rings out, she's even more startled. They aren't alone. And now the other woman was… doing who knows what. The redhead wasn't even sure anymore what was going on. While Elaine had already been fearing exactly the right course of action, given that she had no means to defend herself, she's got at least a better idea of what to do now. Well, given there's someone she at least knows involved. She keeps from making any sudden moves, not to attract attention to herself as she watches carefully so she can react quickly. That's right, don't bother with the non-hostile looking one just standing there!

If the shot startles Elaine, it downright freezes Evan's blood cold. Between hearing it and then feeling it a second later, 'fuck I'm hit' gets the jump on 'oh wait it's just a scratch'. The toolbox is dropped, crashing to the ground and rolling a couple of times - its contents clatter around loudly, but the hinges survive the abuse just fine - as he drops to hands and knees, wincing at the impact but more worried about presenting as small a target as possible. With his ears still ringing from the first shot, he can't make out which way the second one was going—

—oh, and the one he didn't recognize is doing the Iron Man repulsors thing with her hands. Because things weren't dangerous enough already. Right.

Gun shots! Two gun shots! Oh boy, Christine was hoping that it wouldn't come to this. She flinches as a bullet flies into Aude and blood spatters on her. On cop instinct, she reaches for her gun, but when she touches it, it's scolding hot, and her hand is burnt. Uh-oh. Attack of the evolved! Christine is quick to her radio, with her unscolded hand. "Officer hit! Evolved activity! Requesting backup!" She spews off cross streets before going into a hiding position, and taking Aude with her.

Eileen is not alone in emerging from the alley, another brunette of indeterminate hair color - it's under a toque - bearing a taser of all things, is covering the blind woman, brown eyes wide in surprise above the nose splint. Abigail Caliban does not just outright assas- oh wait. Okay, lets rephrase that. Abigail Caliban does not tend to do things like outright assassinate people every day except when riding a horse and ordered to.

Midtown is totally different.

Evan's down, ducking, making of himself as small a target as possible with his toolbox beside him. Elle's attempting to play ghostbusters and trying to not cross the beams as she starts her attack on Christine and the vehicle that the cops emerged from. The tired melts, a hole made in it before it can think of exploding.

Abigail, seeing Elaine standing there instead of dropping to the ground and covering her head, dashes across the street from the alley, slipping and sliding in the slush so she can grab a fist full of the red heads jacket and yank her in the direction of the alley.

Aude didn't see the gun wielding englishwoman. Maybe they'll say in the end that she did and that's who she was referencing and not Evan. Either way, bullet meets body, the vest doing nothing to protect a body at that particular point and the petite officer goes down in a spray of blood, steam rising from the where it starts to pump out at a pretty alarming rate that unless hindered, could be fatal. Her gun clatters to the ground beside her and people suddenly leave their windows to either call in the ongoings on the street to the cops about evolveds attacking police or to get away from any possible stray bullets.

From the other side of the police cruiser, Christine can see the boots belonging to the shooter as she approaches the vehicle. They're soft things made of some sort of worn leather in either dark brown or black with a flat sole, no elevated heel. A moment later, a large bird with frost-coloured feathers, black banding and large, lamp yellow eyes lands on the hood with enough force to dislodge some of the snow caked to the cruiser's front bumper, a few feet from Christine's head.

The plumage around its slate talons is so thick that it resembles fur, and when the owl opens its beak, it's around a sharp, barking alarm call that brings Eileen closer to the officer's hiding place.

"Your backup isn't going to get here fast enough," she advises the other woman. "Leave Castalides."

Elle isn't about to wait around for the backup. To hell with that! Her left hand stops glowing; she lunges forward, attempting to grab Evan roughly by the arm with this hand and to drag him to his feet. Elaine looks like she can run well enough— so Elle's more concerned with the poor plumber guy who is sporting a cut on his cheek from a barely missed bullet. "Get up," she hisses.

She's really warm.

Elle blinks up at Abby for a moment, then over to Eileen. Then, she's attempting to drag poor Evan toward the alley. "Let's get out of here now!" She's small, so she's not so good at the dragging part. It's not so easy.

Her other hand is still glowing, aimed at the police cruiser, though she doesn't fire off a shot yet. It looks like Eileen is doing her thing, so she won't do any more destructive stuff here. At least, not until Eileen gets out of the way.
You paged Deckard with 'oh, we're in little italy'

Shots fired. Shouting. The initiation of curfew was like.


So here comes Deckard towards the nearest intersection at an unhurried trot, alligator boots scuffing out an unsteady beat against cold concrete and slush. Coyote to the sound of squealing coney, running towards bullets rather than fleeing. The way deranged people sometimes do.

He's still a ways off with blood and lead goes splut in a tangent through one of NYPD's (among other acronyms) finest, the silver glow of gun and badge hard to mistake even at a distance.

A witness, suddenly, he slows his trot to an unsure shuffle and then a halt, spine ramrod straight while he picks among the skeletons scrabbling like mosquito hawks around a lamp. Some of them look dishearteningly familiar.

Likewise he cuts a pretty distinct figure at the corner a ways behind Christine and feathery friend, rangy limbs and dark coat and cold blue light glassed in where his eyes should be. His shoulders sink a few degrees under his collar. But he starts creeping on in behind the cop that has the normal amount of holes in her anyway. Christ.

"Shit," Elaine murmurs as she's pulled down by Abby. The perk is that neither of the cops know her and she's not really gotten to the part where they check IDs. While she appreciated that they ended up making a stand, this felt more like a clusterfuck to her. She peers to really get a look at who it is that dragged her down, and she gives Abby a grateful look. "Thanks." She peers cautiously towards the cops. "Think it's safe for me to just make a run for it?" Her eyes scan for a good exit.

He could have told Jim no. Could have stayed at home. Could have missed all this. The shooting, the blasting, the getting dragged into an alley by the one doing the blasting. Okay, that last one would actually be kind of nice on its own, but Evan is in no position to appreciate it. Nor the loss of his toolbox; he'll be annoyed later when he inevitably has to replace it, but right now he doesn't have time to think about it. Off he goes, quickening his pace as soon as he gets his balance back.

Managing to tear off some cloth from her undershirt, Christine holds it against Aude's shoulder, hoping to stop some of the bleeding, not caring if the people who were out and about tonight get caught. Her main concern at the moment is to make sure that Aude doesn't bleed to death. "Hang in there…you're gonna be fine. I ain't gonna leave ya." She ducks in surprise as the owl swoops over head. "Friggin'…" Why's there an owl in this part of town? They're not need a wooded park. Not that she can recollect, anyhow.

As Eileen comes around the car, Christine's first instinct is to reach for her gun. However, she realizes quickly that said evolved person made it just a little bit too hot, something that she's beginning to really notice, especially as her hip starts to really feel the burning sensation. "I can't leave her! She's going to die!"

If it hadn't been for the gun in Eileen's hand, Christine might have been prone to leave Aude for a few seconds and arrest the woman. As is, however, she figures her best chances of not being shot as well, is to stay with Aude and try to stop the bleeding.

"Run, right now. Head for home, take the alley's" because it's better to run into a potential rapist and just whack them with whatever's on hand as opposed to a patrol like Elaine just did. She's direct the woman to a safehouse but there's none nearby which would explain why she and Eileen were out. Walkings a bitch. Abigail gives the scot a push into the alley, even as Elle is attempting to bring Evan that way. A glance towards Eileen and the situation and the EMT is heading that way to join her. She hasn't seen Deckard yet and her hand is tight around the taser.

Aude's punctured a lung, bullets ricochet not just off metal but can do so in people, hitting bones and bouncing off and one lung has collapsed, making it hard for the fallen policewoman to breath, scrabbling her hands at Christine when the bird then Eileen show up. The radio sqwuaks to tell Christine that units are on their way, likely FRONTLINE is being scrambled as well, but Eileen has the right of it. Help won't be coming soon enough and the vehicle that she's hiding behind isn't mobile anymore thanks to Elle.

With Christine's hands occupied with attempting to staunch Aude's bleeding, Eileen has the confidence to step fully around the side of the cruiser. Elle has effectively neutralized the threat, and maybe if she can track her down later, the avian telepath will thank her for providing her with the kind of cover Abigail's taser likely couldn't.

It's her head that lifts first, however, rather than her gun. Gray eyes steer in Deckard's direction, and there's a flicker of recognition in them even though she's seeing through the owl's. It studies his shape — his silhouette, really — with a rustle of anxious agitation that shivers through its snowy feathers.

She's not sure of the last time she saw him, but her clearest, most vivid memory has her hesitating like if she makes any sudden movements he'll evaporate into nothing like some sort of winter mirage.

The sounds Aude is making as she struggles to take in air bring the current situation back into focus, and the owl twists its head away from Deckard and fixes its attention on the woman dying in Christine's arms. Eileen wanted to ask her some questions about Daniel Walsh, but maybe she should have aimed a little higher. She does now, at least, and puts a bullet in Aude's head roughly between her eyes.

Elle doesn't pause for long— in fact, aside from a respectful nod to Abby, Elle's main goal is to get the hell away. Evan's just kind of along for the ride, really, unless he chooses to split ways from the petite radioactive girl. She'll leave the other stuff to the other people, she just wants to get away from the police and the potential of more of them.

She won't be breaking the law and going out after curfew any longer, that's for sure. Too much trouble! And next time, she probably won't have the added help of a woman with a gun and a woman with a taser on her side.

The woman does hesitate as she hears that final gunshot, pausing in the mouth of the alleyway. Then, she glances to Abby. "See you, Abs. Thanks for the backup." Death never did effect her quite like it does others. She's been dead before…it was nice, until they brought her back.

Then, she's on the run; whether Evan joins her is up to him.

Too bad owls aren't big on multitasking. If this one had kept one eye on Deckard it would have seen him closing in at a sudden jolt and spur of long legs when the gun in Eileen's hand rises to take aim. Not fast enough to get there before she pulls the trigger, but quick enough for him to backhand the mess out of her once he does, scarred knuckles racked to and through elegant cheekbone and then down into a grabby shove hard back against the patrol car then away from it. Or. Down its flank. 'Away'. Possibly as a kind of kick start to all the fleeing the crime scene she should've already been doing.

Roughly the opposite of vanishing into the mist.

He nearly steps on Christine in the process, one bootheel coming down just shy of her hand when the shove teeters him off balance and going slap into cooling blood instead. A check over his shoulder in trying not to step in brains reminds him that she's there beneath the tower of him, scrubby grey hair and blue eyes blazing. He looks like the kind of thing you don't want to trip over after curfew.

Elaine's a little horrified at the situation. That… and there's someone dead now. No sooner is Abby pushing her on her way, Elaine takes off running down the alley. She's hurrying towards home, taking care in the alleys and backstreets. No need for her to linger, no desire. Really, she's just doing what she set out to do in the first place—going home.

And there's another gunshot, at which Evan winces, but doesn't turn around. He knows a little bit of first aid, but no one short of a combat medic would be any good in a situation like this. (Even a combat medic wouldn't be able to salvage this one, unless they had a special ability of their own to throw into the mix. But he doesn't know that.)

After a couple blocks at more or less a dead run, his adrenaline rush burnt through, he doubles over and fumbles for his phone. "Jim? --No, worse, I— I'll explain later. Can't make it. Look, just call about your renters insurance in the mornin— You don't have— Fuck, man, I don't know any more. Haul it out to the street?" Hell with it, he's stuck his neck out far enough already, he's going back home before all this has a chance to repeat itself.

Wincing at the second gunshot, Christine's eyes widen. Aude is dead, her brains literally blown. Oh, that's it. Eileen's done this in front of the wrong woman. While caught off guard, Christine does still jump up. Not even caring about Deckard at the moment, and despite burning hip and hand, she runs toward Eileen in a hopes of getting at her and arresting her. That woman has committed a crime. Not only that, she's killed a person that Christine considers a friend. She can't let this go unpunished.

Aude's eyes widen that fraction of a moment, hands stilling on Christine's arm before Eileen pulls that trigger. Her head jumps a little as bullet pierces past bone, dura, frontal lobe and futher, effectively ending the life of who Eileen knows as a Humanis First member she met so long ago. The radio still sqwuaks, demanding an update from Christine.

Abigail doesn't make it in time to stop the other woman either, slipping almost on her ass in an attempt to get there before the blind woman delivers that final fatal shot to Aude's head. Deckard materializes, doing to Eileen a more rougher version of what she was going to do "Eileen, we need to go" Even as ABby's bringing that taser around and down, going for the cops legs, letting the prongs fly through the air and strike the black woman, embed themselves in her leg. The trigger depressed it gives off it's payload of electricity, wreaking havoc on the cop's own body and forcing her to stop drop and muscles seize involuntarily at the electricity flowing through her.

Eileen had just point blank slaughtered and murdered a cop and Abigail's going to add assault to her own rap sheet.

"We need to go, come on, please" stop, toss the taser, try to reach for jacket and tug the smaller woman away. Blue eye's flick up to Deckards, then away. He has the right idea, they need to go before who knows who will show up. Flee before they can bring out dogs to trace their scents. Then there's her other hand coming out, making for Deckards sleeve, drag him away too.

Deckard's assault does its job. Eileen is very small, and without her gun or her birds presents very little threat; she does not react quick enough to the scuff of his approach to utilize either, nor would she, and the crack of his hand across her face puts her in an even more vulnerable position. Her body thumps against the cruiser when wrestled against it, but makes much less noise when it hits pavement, though the volume of the impact does not directly correspond to the amount of pain she experiences as a result.

She's more bewildered than hurt. Although she's never forgotten that Deckard is a threat, she stopped viewing him as a threat to her a long time ago. Her owl lifts off the hood of the car and into the air, its large wings thump-thumping as it climbs, rising into a steep ascent. Eileen is getting her feet back under her at the same time, a gloved hand braced against Abigail's forearm for support. The worst of her injuries is the blood leaking thinly from the corner of her mouth where her lip caught her teeth and what may or may not be a black eye in the morning. She's going.

It doesn't take long for Christine to fall once the taser hits her legs. Falling, she hits her head hard against the ground, causing pain to course through her. When the electricity stops, she just lays there, stunned, gazing upward in a confused state. Well, she's certainly no good as a cop like this. And she's certainly not going after anybody either. She'd be lucky to even just be able to stand at the present time.

"Better to split up," bit out at a hoarse growl, Deckard stays back amidst the still-growing pool that rings Aude, Abigail's arm twisted away from with a little too much force. "Tell her she could stand to pick a more subtle copilot next time she's out killing cops."

The latter presumably meant for Eileen through Abby once her ears have stopped ringing, Flint stoops over Christine long enough to snag the prongs out've her, wire and cartridge wound up in his fist as he turns to make his less harried escape, tracking blue blood everywhere he goes.

He's not going in after the bullets.

"Oh Sorry Mike. She totally told me her plan" Abby nearly spits back, supporting Eileen, trying to avoid icy parts of the street, moving fast as she dares with the Englishwoman for the other nearest alley so that the two of them can disappear. Maybe by then Eileen will be recovered enough to use her bird to scout out alley's and routes to a safe place to hang out for the night since midtown is so not on the menu.

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