Participants:
| Scene Title | Threading the Needle, Part III |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Responsible for creating a diversion to draw Ark security away from the Looking Glass, Isabelle, Miles, Shaw, and Walter come face to face with death. |
| Date | January 12, 2019 |
Alarm klaxons blare.
«Security Alert. Intrusion Detected. Arcology Environmental Containment Breached.»
For the last twenty minutes the Commonwealth Arcology has been under attack from within. Automated security messages reverberate through the walls, echoing from sputtering loudspeakers. Gunfire echoes down rust-stained halls, screams too, and the cries of revolution. This was all part of the plan.
«Security Alert. Intrusion Detected. Arcology Environmental Containment Breached.»
A half dozen bodies lay strewn about a massive cylindrical promenade chamber at the entrance of the Commonwealth Arcology’s A-Ring. Here, twenty stories of balconies connecting residential quarters are visible overhead, ascending into an inky darkness from which seawater regularly drips. At ground level, a double helix of escalators terminates onto an overgrown garden of scrub ferns, dead trees, and moss.
«Security Alert. Intrusion Detected. Arcology Environmental Containment Breached.»
This was once a common area when the Arcology was new, a welcoming gateway into an artificial habitat. Now, it's part tomb and part battlefield. Wreckage from the Ark’s long-ruined elevators lays covered in moss and foliage in the middle of the park, currently serving as cover against automatic weapons fire. Hunched behind the elevator wreckage, Isabelle, Shaw, and Miles are joined by nine residents of the Ark loyal to Michelle Cardinal, residents who took up arms to depose Donald Kenner twenty minutes ago at the start of the fighting.
«Security Alert. Intrusion Detected. Arcology Environmental Containment Breached.»
The first wave of Ark security had come at them from the ground, now laying dead in a semicircle where they were cut apart by the initial ambush. But the security teams have adapted, and time is running out.
«Security Alert. Intrusion Detected. Arcology Environmental Containment Breached.»
Gunfire erupts from the balcony one floor up, firing down into the promenade. Isabelle and the others were pinned down by Ark security, but this is how it was supposed to go. Their team was the diversion so that the others could get the doorway to another world open. This assignment is as ridiculous as the one they’re reinforcing.
«Security Alert. Intrusion Detected. Arcology Environmental Containment Breached.»
"Fucking hell!" As bullets whizz by and embed themselves into the bit of cover she and the others have drawn towards them, all apart of the plan. Isabelle was so ready to get out of here. Hopefully the last jump, if they all could fucking make it.
Baring her teeth the pyrokinetic shoots a volley from her rifle before slamming herself back down next to Shaw and that teleporter Miles. Chest heaving up and down as she steadies herself, wishing to whatever God is out there for her ability. Guns would do, she was okay with those. "Arrgghhhh!!!!!" Firing another volley after the guards above stopped shooting.
Ugh, Miles. He’s the worst. Sometimes, anyway, though right now hopefully he’s going to be helpful. He can shoot a gun, at least, though since he’s negated, that’s about the extent of his usefulness.
At the moment, that’s pretty good, because as soon as Isa ducks back down, he waits only a few seconds for a break in the bullets, before he pops up too and gets off a couple shots at the enemy line as well. He ducks back down again then, a whoosh of air escaping him. “It’s deja vu all over again,” he mutters, though mostly to himself.
It's hard to tell exactly how badly any of the guards that are struck by gunfire are hurt. There's so much shouting, shooting, and blaring klaxon screech to tell. Shaw sits with his back to the demolished elevator wreckage, slamming the heel of his palm into the side of the bolt-action rifle he has, trying to unjam the receiver. Nothing down here works properly.
As Shaw fights with his rifle, there's a momentary lull in the shooting, accompanied by the clank of boots on overhead balconies and the snap-clack of guns reloading. Given how cut off the Arcology is, no one involved in this firefight is under the impression it can go much longer. Isabelle has maybe two rounds left in her handgun, another fifteen in the magazine in her back pocket. Miles is in roughly the same boat, though he can't recall if he's fired nine or ten shots from what's loaded in his handgun. The same magazine in his pocket is all he has left too.
“I'm out,” one of the Ark dissidents calls back, clutching his rifle to his chest and looking worriedly toward Isa. He creeps up from his crouch, moving over to her. “I've got a spare handgun magazine in m—”
There's a gunshot, a strangled yelp, and the man who was turning toward Isa falls onto his side, grabbing at his neck. There's blood everywhere. He's not dead, not yet anyway. Three more of Michelle’s loyalists turn and scream when they see him writhing on the ground, and as one rushes over to help he's struck in the back and falls with a jerk into a limp heap. The others recoil back against the elevator.
The ark security team is being more cautious with their shots. They must be running low too.
Blood sprays across Isa's front and face and she grimaces but doesn't scream, she's been through worse at this point but the loss of an able gun hand makes her frown, emptying her clip before slamming back into cover she eyes Miles and nudges Shaw lightly with her shoulder, "Nobody liberated a grenade or anything?" Handguns for the revolution.
Hazel eyes harden as she loads in her last magazine and takes a breath, you got this. You got this Isabelle, headshots. Try for headshot- Release.. The voice in her head makes her shake it and rolls her eyes. Not now. There wasn't anything to release anyway. They were still negated.
Whatever Miles thinks about Isa eyeing him, he has bigger problems than trying to think of a witty yet cutting quip. One of the main ones being that his ammo is running out. “Shit,” he says, his expression distracted just for a moment as though he’s counting those rounds in his head. He doesn’t spend too much time on that, though, because ultimately it doesn’t matter. They’ll run out when they run out, and then he’ll be screwed.
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he replies, before his gaze gets slightly unfocused again and he squints, some sort of mental effort happening that is not counting the hypothetical rounds in his gun. But it doesn’t work — he doesn’t teleport anywhere. Damnit.
So instead, he pops up after Isa and gets off another shot. At least there was that one left.
There’s a pop and a snap of return gunfire when both Isa and Miles pop up from the wreckage of the old elevator, muzzle flashes in the dim light, screams and shouts. A ricochet rings off of the metal in front of Miles, and he can feel the deflected round whizz past his face like an angry hornet. It’s hard to tell if either made those shots count, but that there’s another eruption of screaming coming after they’ve fired and ducked back down feels wrong.
One of the security team comes tumbling over the railing, arms windmilling, before he lands thirty feet below on his neck with a heavy thud. There’s a glimmer of metal on the balcony, pops of gunfire and shouting, and a severed arm comes spinning over a railing, gun still held in hand. There’s another sound of a gunshot, a grunt, and then silence. It takes a few moments for any more sounds to register, it’s hard to know if the fighting has stopped or if security is regrouping. A few noisy clangs come from the open staircase, janky and staccato.
A moment later, Walter Sullivan, bloodied sword in hand, is staggering down from the stairwell. There’s no sign of security at the moment, no shouting or gunshots, just Walter. He laughs, an awkward and barking laugh. “Whoops,” Walter exhales, and Isa sees he’s clutching his side with one wet, red hand. He drops his sword a second later, then wobbles and collapses onto the ground in the middle of the plaza.
Frustration taken out on the rifle by focusing on restoring its smooth operation is Shaw’s goal. “Water, water everywhere,” mutters the man as he smacks the jammed part against the ground a couple of times. The nudge to his shoulder from Isa earns her a glance, the faintest fleeting smile for his fiance. Fleeting, because there’s gunfire.
He’s getting better about not flinching.
The sounds of screaming from above does feel wrong, and for a puzzled moment Shaw dares to twist up, whack-a-mole style, to look. Just in time to see the security team member plummet to an abrupt end. Barely any time given to react to that, before the severed arm follows after. As the silence dissipates into the air, he dares to come up to crouch. “I’m going to get that,” he motions towards the corpse and limb, and waits a few seconds more to evaluate the chances before scooting out from cover.
Shaw hustles. He slides over to the security guard, yanking the guns, ammunitions, and what items he can pilfer for the rebellion before reinforcements come and security regroups. Of course, then Walter’s noisy clangs make his looting pause. Shaw trains the newly pinched pistol at the direction of the stairwell… then lowers the barrel once he sees it’s Walter. Who collapses, injured. Oh no. Gathering his things, Shaw’s next relay point is their fallen companion. “M-Miles, help!?” Already, he’s grabbing one of the man’s arms to drag him back to their cover.
“Shit!” This time it’s an involuntary exclamation, and Miles jerks away from that little bit of heat, practically falling down behind the cover ashe tries to catch his breath from the adrenaline rush of nearly dying just then. It really makes one take stock of one’s life — and also makes one not really want to break that cover to drag some dude whom one does not know away from the line of fire and potentially die oneself. Really, Shaw? Really?
But fine. Miles lets out a little sigh, quiet but audible, before he takes a deep breath and scrambles toward Shaw and the injured man to help drag him back. He’s apparently more of the fast school than the careful one — sorry, Walter.
Get the body what- ooooh Isa's eyebrows raise and she nods her head with a bop. Yes Shahid always had the right idea and then the crash from above is followed by silence and blood and… goddamnit.
Two teleporters.
Walter was a different case but still. Grumbling to herself Isabelle stalks forward, "Try not to bleed all over the floor will ya?" Rushing forward the last few steps to raise her handgun and peer up and around them for anybody coming in while they retrieve the time traveler. The pyro's nostrils flare and she looks over to Miles and then to Walter and then to Shahid. "Fuck." Backing up slowly as the boys move to cover as she covers.
“Sorry, I'm sorry. Yeah.” Walter splutters as he's hauled behind the ruined elevator and into cover. “Forgot I can't zag or zig for a second. I uh,” he pulls his hand away from a gunshot wound at his right flank, about kidney level. No exit wound. “They tagged me.” There's a lot of dark blood seeping through his shirt.
“There's nobody else up— on the balcony. I think I got everyone.” Walter exhales a keening sounds and winces, gently clunking his head against the curving metal cylinder of the demolished elevator tube. “Probably— more coming though,” he says with a pained laugh. “Which dumb fuck brought a sword to a gunfight, huh?” He asks rhetorically with a smile to Isabelle.
Shaw folds to his knees beside Walter, shaking his head at the man's apologies. When his hand comes away with a palm painted red, he can't help the wet sheen that springs to his dark eyes. "You're it," he pants softly, making a realization he doesn't want.
"Maybe Isa could—" It's a proposal, but not one Shaw wants to finish. The cauterization of wounds could only go so far, and leaving the bullet pieces in would simply… He shakes his head. Looking over at Isa and Miles, Shaw chews on his lower lip in hope maybe one or the other has a better plan. There were the other remaining Ark rebels to consider as well.
Grinning wickedly towards Walter that look falters at the mention of her branding of patching someone up, remembering what she did to Walter's back already. "Uh babe he might be good on that. Plus.. no fire in these veins." Not right now at least. Grimacing the pyrokinetic looks up towards where the guards were. "We've got to get the fuck out of here. Hurry up." Speaking more to the other teams working around the Ark.
Miles takes quick stock of that gunshot wound, and his lips press into a thin line. He’s not a doctor, but it’s not good. He glances to where the guards were, then toward Isabelle. His eyebrows raise, and he glances down toward Walter again, before there’s a sort of resigned shrug. He takes off the long-sleeved shirt that he’s wearing quickly, and presses it against Walter’s wound, relatively hard, hopefully to stop the bleeding.
Walter hisses and wrenches his eyes shut when Miles presses the fabric to the wound. Blood seeps through the cloth, and Walter wraps an arm around Miles’ shoulder for balance. “We’ve got to— ” Blood sprays across Walter’s face, hot and sticky. It spattters on Miles’ cheek. It’s neither of theirs.
It’s Isabelle’s.
There’s a gaping red gash across her arm, skipping up to the left side of her face where it cuts a brutal line from jaw to brow deep enough to reveal bone. There’s a blur of movement that came with the sudden slash, followed by the jab of a knife in Isabelle’s shoulder and a kick to the back of her leg dropping her to her knees. A voice purrs over her shoulder in her ear, “Hey kitten,” Ruia Henrique exhales the words into Isabelle’s ear, “stay and play.”
Ruia disappears in a rush of displaced air, leaving a bone knife embedded in Isabelle's shoulder. Blood runs warm down her face, darkens the fabric of her shirt. Ruia could’ve killed her, but chose to play with her food. Her voice echoes through the promenade.
“Run rabbits.” There’s a clack of a handgun being loaded.
“Run.”
Isabelle has never hit that high of an octave before but tonight she soars over her vocal range, the scream full body before thinning into a strangled cry as she sinks to her knees and falls forward on her hands with another shriek as weight hits her injured.. ripped shoulder. The blood pours freely from her wounds and she coughs up blood, hazel eyes rolling into the back of her head.
Her vision blurs and she shakes her head sending a spray and splatter of blood onto the floor below her. Isa already knew she would never forget Ruia but now she has a souvenir. A handle of the bone knife is gripped with a shaky hand and she rips it out with a cry, holding the knife as she tries to stand hearing the handgun being loaded. "..you…" coughing again.
"Bitch."
Like the prey animal described, Shaw has frozen in place in the faint span of seconds that it took the teleporting woman to appear, wreak her havoc, and disappear again. The scream from Isabelle isn’t one he’ll soon forget. But it does shock him out of terrified state, as he becomes much more aware of the immediate moment. A wordless cry of distress tears out of him, and he scrambles for Isa’s side. The faint clack of a loading handgun rushes him.
Shaw grasps Isa’s good limb, pulling her behind him to a more protected position. “Move, move, we have to move, don’t stop,” he says urgently to the remaining rebels, Miles and Walter. “The huntress chases. Watch your backs!” Then, he’s pulling off his shirt and twisting it over her head and improvising a sling to wrap Isa’s arm. Their time spent in the Wasteland wasn’t for naught.
Urging the other Ark residents to push on, Shaw looks over to Miles and Walter, nodding to indicate he’s not leaving them behind either. “Let’s go.”
Miles barely has time to see what happened to Eve before she’s already pulling out the knife. “No, don-…” Too late. He winces as the knife slides free, looking away quickly and back to his current patient instead. “Okay, buddy,” he says to Walter as he slides a hand around the other man’s shoulders and under his opposite arm to assist with movement, “let’s go.”
He doesn’t give a whole lot of time for Walter to say yes or no, assuming it’s going to be the former. We all know what they say about people who assume, but in this case hopefully he’ll be forgiven. He returns Shaw’s nod briefly, before he starts after the others as quickly as he can with his new charge.
Blood pulses out of the open wound on Isabelle’s back. The knife that was there had been holding everything in, and now it feels like a running faucet. Isabelle feels ashen within just a few moments of scrambling away from the broken elevator tube they'd been using as cover. Her vision swims, she feels light-headed.
“Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit.” Echoes a voice at their backs in the cavernous chamber of the promenade. This, followed by the report of a distant handgun firing and a ricochet ahead of where they're running.
Walter, teeth clenched together, looks back over his shoulder at the direction Ruia’s voice emitted from. “I can stay back, distract her,” is the stupidest thing Walter’s said all day. “I can— somebody’s got to. She's gonna— ”
“Rabbit.”
There's a pop and a rush of displaced air as Ruia re-appears beside Shaw with Walter’s sword and swings the weapon up in a curving arc along his back, splitting flesh open and spilling blood on the floor. In the motion of her follow-through she disappears again, vanishing without so much as an indication of where she went, save for her voice echoing down the halls.
“Little rabbits.”
Dizziness looms over her sense, there's just… so much blood. Isabelle snaps back into focus from the edges of the fog when she sees the teleporter slash down her partner's back, "Shahid!" Clutching him close she goes to wrap a piece of the shirts wearing around him but her hands are too bloody, the fabric rips slowly but not enough for a reliable piece to cover the wound. Release… The voice from her nightmares that sticks with the screams of her family.
Gripping her man, What you don't like to hurt your fellow teleporter?! Isabelle snarls inside and sends a regretful look towards Miles, it wasn't his fault.
They have to move, down that hallway. The way she went, losing blood. The wound on her shoulder pumping fast, she slams her side against the wall and rips more of her tank top off, proceeding with the hell from whomever to wrap around the bleeding wound there, her face… would be another story. "Have you ever heard your own death scream before?" She calls, it echoes down the hall. Then she takes a step.
Too busy running to flinch at the ricochet and too busy holding Isa up, Shaw barely spots the glint of light against metal before it bites deep along his back. The man stumbles with a howl of pain, though the sound is less terrified than it could be, and clipped off with a clench of his teeth. The memories of being in a gladiatorial ring, surrounded by jeering marauders and toyed with by the very huntress hunting them now, only in a different dimension of time, are shaken off.
"Keep. Going," he grits out at Walter, Miles, and the others. "Go." Isa's paled complexion is worrying. "Wait, Eanqa', wait my love, let me," he pants as he tries to help rip and tie the makeshift tourniquet tight. If he could only use his power right now, reach for it to send a pain-negating field around them, even though the lancing pain throbbing with each beat of his heart keeps him awake and moving thus far in an adrenaline fueled cocktail of action.
“Fucking bitch!” Miles’ tone is angry, sure, but there’s also kind of a…professional outrage, if you will. Pissed that she can still teleport and he can’t? Maybe. And now he’s the only person who isn’t grievously injured. “Once more unto the breach, dear friends,” he says, with a lot less flippancy than usual, and just a little waver in his voice. But despite this, he presses on, both figuratively and literally, since his other hand is still attempting to make sure that Walter’s wound’s bleeding is staunched as much as possible with the makeshift tourniquet.
“Psst,” comes sharply beside Walter, followed by a flash of his sword up through the air. The redhead is cut across his arm, sending him reeling across the hall, leaving a drizzling trail of blood in his wake. When Ruia disappears again Walter braces, then as he feels the explosive change in air pressure ducks and charges forward. He anticipates Ruia’s appearance and spears her with a tackle that sends her crashing to the ground. Her sword — his sword — is jostled from her grip and goes spinning across the floor to stop at Miles’ feet.
Ruia vanishes from beneath Walter with a shriek, then reappears beside him with her gun out. Walter jerks back and away, but the sudden report of a handgun firing twice is unmistakable. Walter is struck in the arm and the leg, collapsing in a jerk to the floor. Ruia, wide-eyed and furious, doesn't notice the palpable waves of heat emitting from Isabelle or the faint orange glow coming from the gash in her face.
Shaw and Miles do, though. Because they realize sometime during the gunshot something miraculous happened.
They got their abilities back.
"Thank you," she whispers to Shaw and looks into his eyes for a moment, gaze softening. She shouldn't have brought him here, they should have.. where could they have stayed? Isabelle pushes off from the wall and stands shakily nodding to her fiancé that he didn't need to support her, willing herself to move forward. Ruia's continued picking at them has Isabelle feeling a fresh wave of anger wash over her.
Black smoke drifts from her nostrils and the slow seeping feeling of warmth covers her and the area around her. The gash on her face beginning to glow a hot heat orange, Isabelle's fist curls and she looks over to Miles and the others, "Carry them forward… a bit," a flame sparks to life, dancing on the tip of her finger. "Now."
Twin flames burst into life, one in front of Isa's form popping with life and growing in size like Kaito taught her. The memories of her past give her strength, misery and anger that she directs towards Ruia who has the unfortunate circumstance of having the other flame spark into life on her clothes. Stoking the flames with her will, she hears the chorus of screams from her nightmares occupied by that deep genderless voice, sometimes she thinks it's her own though. Release…
She tries.
Hazel eyes reflecting brilliant orange flames. Black smoke slowly wafts out of her mouth as she throws her head back and the fire explodes outward around her in a swirling nimbus.
Well, Miles isn’t one to pass up a sword when it just falls into his lap/ — or at his feet, whatever, same thing — and so he lurches forward as best he can to reach down and grab it. It’s right about then when Walter gets shot and crumples. Miles lets out another outraged half-grunt, half-scream, because seeing how the other 90% lives is really not fun at all, especially when there’s someone right there who’s apparently totally fine and able to do teleport with no problems.
It’s in that moment, though, that something shifts. Miles doesn’t actually have to test it — he can feel it in his soul, the rekindling of what he’d been unable to reach until now. It only takes a second, but that’s more than he needs. There’s a little shimmer in the air of his own, before he reappears behind Ruia and rams that sword right through her.
Too late, Shaw cries out a warning to Walter as the corner of his eye catches the sight of the teleporting huntress. His shout is lost to the bang of gunfire, the hard thud of Walter's body against the Arkology floor. But the next look of surprise in Shaw's expression comes with the realization, the palpable feeling, of the returning heat. They'd been in the damp and cold, and now the phoenix fire is undeniably there. Which means…
Shaw yanks the gun he had stolen along with the one backup he'd had. "Lose one, get two," mutters the man as he turns, hasty, blood-slicked fingers curling around handles and triggers. Shaw's sense negating, blinding power reaches out, wrapping invisible fingers around a shade of darkness intended for Ruia only, just stopping shy of Miles with that extra couple feet of sword-length. "You're out of control," he growls out in a tone that's chiding.
Focused solely on Ruia, Shaw lifts his pistols and fires both barrels for her chest. Her heart.
And as the fire swirling Isa suddenly bursts outwards, he dives for the walls, hopefully out of the way of a literal line of fire.
Ruia Henrique had no way to expect Miles’ ability. Had no way to anticipate his next move, that Walter’s sword would find its way back to her. That she would find herself impaled by its gently curving blade. She doesn't even feel the sword’s sting at first, coughing blood onto Miles’ arm and then wheezing a keening cry of panic.
It is short lived.
Two gunshots cause her to jerk back, still trapped on the sword and unable to flail far. But then as that incandescent fiery glow builds, Ruia’s dead and blank eyes focus their last sight on the roaring flames roaring toward her. Shaw is able to leap aside just in time, though his right arm is caught in the flame and the stinging pain of the burn strikes with the same intensity as the wounds Ruia inflicted.
Miles…
Miles is consumed by the flames.
The spiraling vortex of fire hits Ruia like an avalanche, throwing white-hot flames down the hall. Paint catches fire and combusts, the walls and ceiling of the hall begin to catch as wiring melts, as lights explode from the heat, as Ruia’s screams dissipate and her flame-shrouded corpse lands on its knees, then toppled forward… leaning behind no sign of Miles.
Because he's behind Isabelle. Unscathed.
Walter Trafford watches Ruia consumer by the flames from where he lays on the ground. He's still bleeding, profusely, and then finally drops onto his back and weakly stares up at the ceiling. He tries to say something, anything, to the others. All he can manage is a half-crooked thumbs up to Miles.
But there's no time for a moment’s breath, no time for recuperation. In fact, there may not be any time left at all as red security lighting bathes the hall a flat crimson and a new alarm klaxon overrides the other security alert.
«WARNING: REACTOR AT CRITICAL. EVACUATE ALL PERSONNEL.»
Walter’s stare up at the ceiling goes distant. His mouth hangs somewhat slack, brows furrowed. This all suddenly felt familiar.
Klaxons blare, echoing down the dark corridor lit only by flickering lights and showering sparks from ruptured electrical conduits. Water sprays from a shattered coolant pipe, sprinkling down on the floor below. Blood drops into the water, swirling crimson in the dark, ripples cast outward, lapping on concrete shores.
«WARNING: REACTOR AT CRITICAL. EVACUATE ALL PERSONNEL.»
“We— we've gotta go.” Walter stammers weakly, barely able to move.
Rivulets of red soak between bloodied fingers, pain lances through a dislocated knee, flesh is still oily from the residue of the gas clinging to his hair and in his eyes and nose, depriving him of freedom from corporeal restrictions. Hobbling down the curving access corridor, there is a low, throbbing hum coming from the two foot diameter metal conduit running the length of the hall, cracked on one seam and spewing a white gas backlit by blue radiation.
“Now,” Walter pleads, struggling to get to his feet as his melody of a future of the past comes flooding back in a tidal wave of painful memories.
«WARNING: REACTOR AT CRITICAL. EVACUATE ALL PERSONNEL.»
Isa's screams die off long before Ruia's and as Miles stabs her and Shaw fires rounds into her chest it feels like some epic combo finisher move and the pyrokinetic feels something in that moment, finality. "Burn in hell bitch." Eyes closed, savoring the death screams of the teleporter whose name she's failed to learn through all these timelines. The flames roar as Isa adds this incarnation of Ruia's screams to the others along with her parents and the children.
Her scar still blazing orange but not as brightly as a moment ago the brunette staggers forward at Walter's words and the warning blaring around them.
"Grab him come on!" Almost wavering herself she pushes forward towards the meeting place. Almost got Liz and Magnes home. Orange flames spiral around her hand ready for anyone else that shows up the pyrokinetic leaving a trail of blood and faint flames in her wake.
When Miles reappears behind Isa, he has a triumphant look on his face — despite the blood — but his face is almost completely colorless, and the first step or two he takes are just a little bit unsteady. Nearly being consumed in a wall of fire does that to a person. He soldiers on, though, and after that initial little blip, he’s moving fine, especially considering that he’s come out the best out of everyone in here.
He leans down a little bit to get Walter, and now it’s less trying to staunch the bleeding and more just trying to get him somewhere other than here to die. At least he can do that. “I’m taking him,” he says, and one assumes he means through space without walking, as he does. “If either of you can’t make it there walking, come now.” He holds out an arm toward Isa and Shaw, presumably for them to grab onto or not, but whether they do or not, he’s taking Walter.
Eyelids squeezed to narrow slits, burned arm clutched close to his chest, Shaw watches as white hot flames bring the particularly gruesome end to Ruia Henrique. Relief threads through the physical pain. Seconds tick away, then the klaxon blares, the system warning startling him back to real danger, and he scrambles back up, throwing a look to Isa. A bloody hand shields his eyes from the brightness of her fire.
Then in a glance over to Walter, Shaw gasps at the state of the man. There would be no way he can walk. Miles’ arm held out to them, he blinks at it, then the teleporter attached to it. The implicit offer is understood. But. The paralyzing fear stops Shaw cold.
For a long moment, everything comes rushing forth, a film reel flickering in a roll down his mind. He grimaces, an unhappy smile showing the tips of his teeth. “C-Can’t…” he stutters, weight shifting back to his heels like he might run away in the other direction.
Izzy just about falls against the wall again before she catches Shaw's reaction and it's just about the same as she's feeling. The brunette takes a step back with her partner, eyes widening and she almost screams at Miles but she knows that she can't make it just on her own, not like this.. a look over at Walter and her jaw sets and works, grabbing Shaw's hand, "Babe…" hating herself for it, "I can't fucking believe I'm saying this but we gotta." A shudder runs through her before she growls to the ceiling and stalks over to grab Miles' hand, "Fast please," Isa tries to say gently but it comes out rough though she gives a look to Shaw in order to convey this was a huge step for them.
The multiverse was ironic.
And at times, cruel. Shaw winces when Isa takes his hand when the touch and movement send a stinging pain up his arm and down his back. He follows step with reluctant step, having to balance himself to keep from toppling against the trio. His face turns, eyes open to the spot where Ruia’s ashen carcass lies. “W-wait,” he bids them hold and breaks off briefly to return to it. Fingers close delicately around the long blade’s tang. Then he returns to them, item retrieved.
He nods, sucking in a light breath to push back the fear of that unknown. Why was this any different from jumping through yawning portals of darkness… he would probably never understand.
«WARNING: REACTOR AT CRITICAL. EVACUATE ALL PERSONNEL.»
The pain that Izzy feel is a throbbing ache, slipping in and out staggering but she waits as Shaw takes his time to collect his souvenir, she already had hers. The bone knife sticking out of her pocket, "Lose one.." Gripping Miles' hand hard with the bloodied hand (Sorry Miles), "Gain two." A truly disgusting kiss to Shaw, eyes rolling in the back of her head. "Okay, fucking get it over with. I—"
«WARNING: REACTOR AT CRITICAL. EVACUATE ALL PERSONNEL.»
Poor Walter and Miles are left to watch for that momentary kiss between Shaw and Isa, gross in its appearance but heartfelt in its feeling. And thankfully, brief. But the contact comes as a nice reminder of what lies ahead in wait. Shaw reaches out with his free hand to hang on to Miles’ arm. Hanging on for dear life.
«WARNING: REACTOR AT CRITICAL. EVACUATE ALL PERSONNEL.»
Maybe he winces a little at the kiss — it's hard to tell — but Miles doesn't wait for anything else. As soon as everyone's touching him, they're gone.
«WARNING: REACTOR AT CRITICAL. EVACUATE ALL PERSONNEL.»