B
BrattyCommissar
Guest
Original poster
'Give us strength, and give us time. And for what you've put us through today, it's the absolute least you could do for us right now..'
Flooring it, the rough driving was not an easy pace for Anna to keep up. While not in the immediate area around White Fence, traffic did end up being an issue again. There had been time, but not enough for everyone to clear the roads entirely. The further she went from it on the way to the hospital, the more there were other cars that had to swerve out of the vehicle's way. One ended up crashing behind her into another vehicle, likely hurting the owner, but that didn't even register for Anna. Reckless driving meant eyes on the road ahead, not behind, and the whiplash to check it out may have meant another few bodies to add to wreckage out this far.
The distance closing, she was yet so far away, and Druid's life hung in the balance. Trying his best to keep the man on this side of the threshold, the driving may have taken less time to get there, but may have accidentally taken more time from Druid than was saved. Not that Anna was in any position to hear such a claim, even from the medic who was with her. Instead he valiantly did what he could to make sure that Druid at least didn't die in transit.
Elsewhere, the battle between the police, heroes, and their Ironwoman foe was coming to an end. Pistelero's shouts came in clear as the utility pole behind the latina broke down and wires of flickering electricity struck across the behemoth. Her form twitched and writhed, bands of metal warping further from the thrashing, as one more was sent sprawling to join the injured. Andrew, in his effort to lay into the Ironwoman, was sent skyward in response to the sudden electricity and thrashing; having ignored the warnings in his frenzy. The fall and crash was far more than his emerald armour could successfully ignore and mitigate. The electricity of the metal woman was spared him, due to the nonconductive nature of his protection, but an encapsulated fall onto a car was going to hurt.
Andrew's breath was short, pained. More a stuttering gasp than anything else. He could only look up at the sky, the wind so far gone from him to let him move beyond that. It was a few blissful moments where his body was not yet reacting to the pain that was going to hit him. It'd start low, but omnipresent, and it'd only get worse, and worse. Unlike Druid, Andrew wasn't bleeding out. He was far more likely to live, although after this he was essentially one giant bruise.
And... there was Andrew's pain.
Pistelero's gaze over the victory was short lived, as soon the uncomfortable reality had to sink in. People were dead, in part because of him, and part because of things far removed from his control and influence. People were injured, everywhere, and he likely just killed the Ironwoman if she wasn't good as dead before he did anything to begin with.
Lieutenant Prescott stood, weak, but still in control as he looked over everything, a good couple yards behind Pistelero. He pulled out his radio, and began to message in to the nearest precinct about what had happened, while the other police began to quickly try to help in any way that they could. Yet, after a few moments, Prescott spoke up. Not onto the radio, but to the police, "Back to your positions. If more Ironmen come through, I'd rather we be able to stop it before this happens again, than for them to get us while we…" he swallowed, hard, "Back… to your spots."
Hellfire raged over the heads of the heroes. Oto remained on his back, shocked and near breathless, deaf to it all, save the dull throb of his own bullet wound. It was almost like all of it was a dream. A horrible, horrible dream. But the others, that nightmarish lethargy was absent. Police and terrorists exchanged gunfire. There were shouts, from all sides it felt, and the smell of blood stained asphalt.
With noise ascending into mind once more, it was quieter than it should have been. Muffled by temporary deafness, but enough to be a real reminder that this was no dream. Sarah's movement, from cover to cover, brought her to some uncomfortable vistas. Stopping beside one car, she could see more of the gore than she would have liked. But she held her stomach in place through her own force of will, and made her way forward again. Low, below all the death, as safe as she could possibly be.
Moving faster than Ariett could, she came upon her at what could function for cover, a car near careened off the edge of the bridge. The water of the Castle Straits was below, remarkably clean, but the drop was one that'd be just as dangerous as the bullets exchanged above. Not a safe way out.
There was no more visual contact with anyone, this low, sticking your head up to see how something was doing meant risking a bullet in it, and Sarah was keen on that. Fortunately, they still knew which way was what. Behind them were the cops, and safety, and in front were the dwindling numbers of terrorists, and possible hostages. But in the face of what had just happened, it was unlikely anyone could or would grief them for turning back and escaping from it.
It wasn't long before some backup had arrived, although they weren't exactly high quality help. From their gear and postures, it was clear that those who arrived to help take Officer Shin and Katsumi back for care were not officers, but some sort of volunteer group. Their eyes were wide, their reflective stripes disheveled on their outfits, but if they were anything it was expedient. They didn't stop, they didn't talk, they rushed and made sure that the two were in their vehicle in almost no time.
Which gave plenty of time for what Officer Garfield needed to do.
He grabbed the gibbering Sam by the shoulders, and shook him, before pulling him back in one hand and giving him a slap. The notion was simple, Sam had likely seen the idea carried out in movies before then as well. Slap them out of it. It was usually reserved for something a bit more extreme after other efforts failed, but Garfield jumped straight to it as information came in on the mysterious trucks. Garfield dropped Sam, leaving him to Matthew to handle as he responded, relaying the information and inquiring about trucks. He didn't seem to think they would have had any there.
The short wait for a response felt a lot longer than it had actually been. Officer Garfield looked at Matthew's hands, which had been stained in the short time that he was the one holding Katsumi's life, and he shook his head, muttering a curse under his breath before speaking up, "Your… friend is going to be fine. So will Officer Shin. Just, don't be looking with over at the wall no more, got it? They shouldn't have thrown y'all at this thing. Nothing is going to happen save losing your marbles. Shin lost his, and we don't need more to. I'm sorry."
When the radio cracked to life with the response that Officer Garfield was waiting for, his brow furrowed. "This is dispatch. There are no KPD trucks in the area or at that cross street. Please intercept the vehicle." Dispatch went on to make comments about the other three groups of officers around Utopia would have to divide themselves to cover the fourth of the wall they were leaving behind. Officer Garfield gave his affirmative and began to walk to the police cruiser.
"Christ…"
Elsewhere, Kyla was attempting to hotwire a car. The radio in Charlotte's hands sprung to life as Officer Garfield's voice came over it, "I don't be expecting that you can catch with the truck? Tail it, or something, so we can catch up. We've been reassigned. Can you…" his voice trailed a bit and the radio cut off for a moment, "Can you get a… Christ, you won't be arrested with doing it but could you hotwire a car and tail it if you don't be having one near?"
As if to answer him, the car came to life at Kyla's fingertips. So did its alarm, but that'd turn off on its own shortly regardless. A working vehicle at their disposal, if a somewhat loud and noticeable one for the moment, was good enough. Going after the truck, and tailing it? That'd be a bit more difficult. And dangerous, if they were spotted. This car was likely not bulletproof.[/hr][/hr][/hr][/hr][/hr][/hr]
The Iron Gate
Western Edge of Ground Zero
Western Edge of Ground Zero
Flooring it, the rough driving was not an easy pace for Anna to keep up. While not in the immediate area around White Fence, traffic did end up being an issue again. There had been time, but not enough for everyone to clear the roads entirely. The further she went from it on the way to the hospital, the more there were other cars that had to swerve out of the vehicle's way. One ended up crashing behind her into another vehicle, likely hurting the owner, but that didn't even register for Anna. Reckless driving meant eyes on the road ahead, not behind, and the whiplash to check it out may have meant another few bodies to add to wreckage out this far.
The distance closing, she was yet so far away, and Druid's life hung in the balance. Trying his best to keep the man on this side of the threshold, the driving may have taken less time to get there, but may have accidentally taken more time from Druid than was saved. Not that Anna was in any position to hear such a claim, even from the medic who was with her. Instead he valiantly did what he could to make sure that Druid at least didn't die in transit.
Elsewhere, the battle between the police, heroes, and their Ironwoman foe was coming to an end. Pistelero's shouts came in clear as the utility pole behind the latina broke down and wires of flickering electricity struck across the behemoth. Her form twitched and writhed, bands of metal warping further from the thrashing, as one more was sent sprawling to join the injured. Andrew, in his effort to lay into the Ironwoman, was sent skyward in response to the sudden electricity and thrashing; having ignored the warnings in his frenzy. The fall and crash was far more than his emerald armour could successfully ignore and mitigate. The electricity of the metal woman was spared him, due to the nonconductive nature of his protection, but an encapsulated fall onto a car was going to hurt.
Andrew's breath was short, pained. More a stuttering gasp than anything else. He could only look up at the sky, the wind so far gone from him to let him move beyond that. It was a few blissful moments where his body was not yet reacting to the pain that was going to hit him. It'd start low, but omnipresent, and it'd only get worse, and worse. Unlike Druid, Andrew wasn't bleeding out. He was far more likely to live, although after this he was essentially one giant bruise.
And... there was Andrew's pain.
Pistelero's gaze over the victory was short lived, as soon the uncomfortable reality had to sink in. People were dead, in part because of him, and part because of things far removed from his control and influence. People were injured, everywhere, and he likely just killed the Ironwoman if she wasn't good as dead before he did anything to begin with.
Lieutenant Prescott stood, weak, but still in control as he looked over everything, a good couple yards behind Pistelero. He pulled out his radio, and began to message in to the nearest precinct about what had happened, while the other police began to quickly try to help in any way that they could. Yet, after a few moments, Prescott spoke up. Not onto the radio, but to the police, "Back to your positions. If more Ironmen come through, I'd rather we be able to stop it before this happens again, than for them to get us while we…" he swallowed, hard, "Back… to your spots."
A Bridge Too Far
Last Bridge Connecting Ground Zero to Rook Island
Last Bridge Connecting Ground Zero to Rook Island
Hellfire raged over the heads of the heroes. Oto remained on his back, shocked and near breathless, deaf to it all, save the dull throb of his own bullet wound. It was almost like all of it was a dream. A horrible, horrible dream. But the others, that nightmarish lethargy was absent. Police and terrorists exchanged gunfire. There were shouts, from all sides it felt, and the smell of blood stained asphalt.
With noise ascending into mind once more, it was quieter than it should have been. Muffled by temporary deafness, but enough to be a real reminder that this was no dream. Sarah's movement, from cover to cover, brought her to some uncomfortable vistas. Stopping beside one car, she could see more of the gore than she would have liked. But she held her stomach in place through her own force of will, and made her way forward again. Low, below all the death, as safe as she could possibly be.
Moving faster than Ariett could, she came upon her at what could function for cover, a car near careened off the edge of the bridge. The water of the Castle Straits was below, remarkably clean, but the drop was one that'd be just as dangerous as the bullets exchanged above. Not a safe way out.
There was no more visual contact with anyone, this low, sticking your head up to see how something was doing meant risking a bullet in it, and Sarah was keen on that. Fortunately, they still knew which way was what. Behind them were the cops, and safety, and in front were the dwindling numbers of terrorists, and possible hostages. But in the face of what had just happened, it was unlikely anyone could or would grief them for turning back and escaping from it.
Trouble in Paradise
North West Quarter of the Exterior Utopian Wall
North West Quarter of the Exterior Utopian Wall
It wasn't long before some backup had arrived, although they weren't exactly high quality help. From their gear and postures, it was clear that those who arrived to help take Officer Shin and Katsumi back for care were not officers, but some sort of volunteer group. Their eyes were wide, their reflective stripes disheveled on their outfits, but if they were anything it was expedient. They didn't stop, they didn't talk, they rushed and made sure that the two were in their vehicle in almost no time.
Which gave plenty of time for what Officer Garfield needed to do.
He grabbed the gibbering Sam by the shoulders, and shook him, before pulling him back in one hand and giving him a slap. The notion was simple, Sam had likely seen the idea carried out in movies before then as well. Slap them out of it. It was usually reserved for something a bit more extreme after other efforts failed, but Garfield jumped straight to it as information came in on the mysterious trucks. Garfield dropped Sam, leaving him to Matthew to handle as he responded, relaying the information and inquiring about trucks. He didn't seem to think they would have had any there.
The short wait for a response felt a lot longer than it had actually been. Officer Garfield looked at Matthew's hands, which had been stained in the short time that he was the one holding Katsumi's life, and he shook his head, muttering a curse under his breath before speaking up, "Your… friend is going to be fine. So will Officer Shin. Just, don't be looking with over at the wall no more, got it? They shouldn't have thrown y'all at this thing. Nothing is going to happen save losing your marbles. Shin lost his, and we don't need more to. I'm sorry."
When the radio cracked to life with the response that Officer Garfield was waiting for, his brow furrowed. "This is dispatch. There are no KPD trucks in the area or at that cross street. Please intercept the vehicle." Dispatch went on to make comments about the other three groups of officers around Utopia would have to divide themselves to cover the fourth of the wall they were leaving behind. Officer Garfield gave his affirmative and began to walk to the police cruiser.
"Christ…"
Elsewhere, Kyla was attempting to hotwire a car. The radio in Charlotte's hands sprung to life as Officer Garfield's voice came over it, "I don't be expecting that you can catch with the truck? Tail it, or something, so we can catch up. We've been reassigned. Can you…" his voice trailed a bit and the radio cut off for a moment, "Can you get a… Christ, you won't be arrested with doing it but could you hotwire a car and tail it if you don't be having one near?"
As if to answer him, the car came to life at Kyla's fingertips. So did its alarm, but that'd turn off on its own shortly regardless. A working vehicle at their disposal, if a somewhat loud and noticeable one for the moment, was good enough. Going after the truck, and tailing it? That'd be a bit more difficult. And dangerous, if they were spotted. This car was likely not bulletproof.[/hr][/hr][/hr][/hr][/hr][/hr]
This time, the helm of Andrew's armor receded as he began gasping for air. Panic had prevented it before, but barely sustained consciousness was distracting. His eyelids rose and fell in intervals too slow to consider the action a flutter, the orbs beneath exploring the sky as he attempted to make sense of what had just happened. He'd been fighting the mutated Iron Woman, that much he readily remembered. Had they beaten her?