BACKLASH

CloudyBlueDay

consistently inconsistent
Original poster
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Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per week
  2. One post per week
Online Availability
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
  4. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. No Preferences
Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
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Delilah Buress
AGE || Twenty-Two

BIO || Delilah is a hardened soul, but not for lack of trying. Her life has simply never been easy - Abandoned at only four to the system, by a mother who had more interest in powdered escapes and come-and-go boyfriends, she grew up bouncing home to home and found very little recourse for changing her rebellious, caustic nature. The closest she ever got was the DeClain home... it was also where everything fell apart.

Life with the DeClain family was difficult, but it was made bearable by the two other foster children in residence... particularly when Delilah discovered that she wasn't alone in more ways than one. They were all gifted, and these gifts, this strange connection, brought the three of them together in a way blood never could.

And Delilah would have traded everything, even her abilities, if she could have known it would be the thing that ripped them apart.

Now nearly seven years later, Delilah lives life with a mask on - never revealing more than necessary, never delving deeper into her emotions than she chooses. She lives... exists like vapor... her only goal in life revenge against the man who betrayed her family... and ruined it all.

POWER || The ability to shape and manipulate smoke. Primarily the by-product of fires, pest control (fumigation) and diesel exhaust. She can increase the size and volume of smoke to create a smog-like screen, effectively hiding her or others from view, manipulate the molecular structure of smoke, creating physical constructs, including weapons, walls, armor or 'allies'.

The aggressive chemicals within smoke can be enhanced and used to corrode certain materials/structures. The corrosive properties of the chemicals cause the substance or structure to decompose at a rapid rate (primarily clothing, piping, wood, electrical devices…).

Known limitations exist in that she cannot create smoke, but must use an existing source. Her abilities are also rendered nearly ineffective in extremely windy conditions and/or by wind/air manipulation abilities, or in a vacuum.
 
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NAME: Fisher Hawkins

AGE: 23

POWERS: Strength Imbuing
Fisher can imbue strength into inanimate objects, making them durable and very combat worthy. He has a staple pair of boots and gloves, and once imbued, they become extremely strong, leaving him with super powered punches and kicks, one that leave damn painful bruises. Fisher also has somewhat enhanced durability simply to protect him from any backlash of his own empowered objects. Basically, he transfers his own strength and channels it through the object, making it stronger along the way. With time, Fisher should be able to also imbue other people with strength. Some other uses could be imbuing a tool with strength to use it on a larger scale, or imbuing some sort of throwing object to make it even more deadly, etc.

BIO: Left on the doorstep of an orphanage at birth, Fisher has no memories of his parents. He grew in a home where no one quite cared for him, bouncing from one place to the next, never landing quite on his feet. Despite this, Fisher retained his morals quite well. He was always a well behaved kid, and did his best not to lash out. He saw the good in people and he tried not to step on other's toes. Despite his well meaning attitude, he never quite seemed to find a place. Tossed around by bigger and meaner children, he was always somewhat of a runt, but he did not allow it to get him down.

It was only with his three friends in the DeClain house where Fisher finally felt he belonged, even if it was nothing but a temporary home. And with the arrival of powers that changed his life, he was glad to have his friends with him. But, as things do, life changes. People change. And he felt no choice to move on when one of them strayed upon the wrong path. With his powers he knew he could do better then the life he'd been thrown into, and Fisher wanted more.

Seven years later Fisher lives in the light of the admiring eyes of the public as a budding superhero, finally making a name for himself for all the right reasons. His past put behind him, he only seeks to look ahead, but it might not be so easy when it tracks you down.
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Fisher Hawkins

He always woke with a start, the incessant beeping of the alarm clock forcing him to squirm under the covers until he finally mustered up the energy to turn it off. With a great yawn, Fisher threw off the covers and stretched his arms up to the ceiling. Another boring day lay ahead of him, but he came not to mind it much anymore. Finally, Fisher felt as if he could pave a good future out for himself. When they aged out of the system, they’d all room together. He felt confident in the fact that things might finally be going his way, so what was school in the way of his entire life? A minuscule dot.

After he had finally rolled out of bed his next task was to shake Solomon awake. That kid could sleep like a rock, so Fisher always woke him up in the morning.

“Hey man,” Fisher said, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder, shaking him gently. Solomon moaned, and Fisher then noticed the tissue box beside him.

“You sick?” Fisher said, a bit more caring in his tone. “Uhhhg. I think so.” Came the grumbling reply from Solomon, who looked crumpled and tired, voice a bit more nasal than it normally was. “I’m gonna stay home.” Fisher modded sympathetically, pulling the covers up on him a little further. “You need anything?” Fisher said. Solomon shook his head into the pillow.

“Okay. See you later.” He said, grabbing his clothes and leaving the room, pleased to see the bathroom had not been taken yet. Closing the door behind him, Fisher changed, washed his face and brushed his teeth. By the time he finished, there was still no disturbance from either Lilah or John, he figured the both of them were still asleep.

Going to Lilah’s door, Fisher gave it a few knocks. “Lilah? Are you up? We’re gonna miss the bus if you’re still sleeping!”

@Elle Joyner
 
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Delilah Buress

It happened again.

She had promised herself that it wouldn't. That she wouldn't let it, but it had. It had, and she had done the worst thing possible. She had told Solly. It had made sense at the time. She had been upset and frightened, and Solly had always been comforting. But this time had been different. He had been cold and disconnected... He'd told her to go to her room and stay there, and she had, but something felt wrong.

She'd barely slept, and as she stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror, dark rimmed eyed stared back at her, her pale skin shadowed. Yanking ginger tangles back into a pony tail, she pinched her cheeks and with a sniff, rose, just as Fisher's rudimentary knock sounded from the other side of her door.

She wanted to tell him, too, but Solomon had made her promise she wouldn't. He'd said it would upset Fish, and that was the last thing Delilah wanted. Not when things were already bad enough. If she upset the balance... if she threw anything off, she knew the risks. They'd toss her back to the home. Toss her out. And then what? She'd never get placed and she would lose them both. It wasn't a risk she was willing to take. Not ever. Even if it meant staying silent until they were old enough to be on their own.

Grabbing her bag, she slung it over her shoulder and crossing the room, she pulled the door open, screwing a smile onto her face that felt as genuine as a microwaved meatloaf, "Geez, Trout. Eager much? What'dya have a date or something? Let's go... Where's Sol?"
[/hr]
 
Fisher Hawkins

He brought up a smile to return Lilah's, though something about her felt off. He was bout to ask when she accused him of having a date, his cheeks flushing red. "Hey, c'mon. I'm just excited for all my wonderful classes, is all." He retorted with an air of sarcasm, brushing his hair out from his eyes. He was well overdue for a haircut. "Sol's sick. Was practically ready to marry the tissue box. He said he was gonna stay home." Fisher said with a shrug, clearly not paying it much mind.

"You alright, by the way? You look sort of tired. Did you catch anything from Sol?" Fisher said gently, smiling at Lilah once more. Then his face morphed into one of shock. "Ah, shit. I forgot to put in toast!" Fisher announced, bolting down the stairs. The clock on the kitchen counter read 7:43, and the bus came at 7:45. No time for toast. "Uh, some fruit will have to make do!" He yelled from downstairs, peeking out the window as he grabbed an apple and a banana from the bowl of fruit on the table, peeking up through the window in search of the bus as he grabbed his school bag from the floor.

He was a little bit oblivious, but such was Fisher. This was the best he had felt in a long time. With the company of friends he felt he knew he could trust, little else mattered. John and Ms Declain were simply nuisances, and he knew that one day he'd land on top of all of them, Lilah and Sol at his side, the three of them taking on the world together.

"Ahg! The bus! Lilah!"

He swung the door open and rushed outside, waving his hands frantically to make sure the driver saw him. Mr. Jenkins was a nice man, and he was not as evil as the previous bus driver, who saw kids running out of the house and left them behind. Fisher rushed up and posed himself in the doorway of the bus until Lilah appeared. "G'morning, sir." Chirped Fisher, a wonderful blockade to make sure the door did not close. "Lilah'll be out in a minute."

@Elle Joyner
 
Delilah Buress

She wasn't alright. She wasn't, and she wanted to tell him.. but the words wouldn't come. They never did. The only reason Solomon knew was because he'd practically dragged it out of her, and even then, she hadn't told him everything. Not really. She hadn't dared, because she knew that he would be furious... that he would tell Ms. Declain.

They weren't the best family. Ms. Declain was alright, even if it was all mostly for show for the neighborhood, even if she was only in it for the money... but John was trouble. He had been from the day they had been placed. With the boys, he was aggressive and temperamental, but with her...

He'd never touched her - part of her wondered if it was just because he was something of a coward. But the comments, the little nagging gestures... mostly it was the staring. The incessant staring. It was enough to drive her nuts, but she'd kept it to herself. The night before, though, things had changed. He'd gotten bolder, more insistent, and she wondered what might've happened if his mother hadn't come back from work when she did.

And she'd told. She'd told Solomon, because he'd found her in the hallway, crying. And now she hated herself for it.

Sick? Maybe it was true - maybe he'd caught something. But she had her suspicions he just didn't want to face her - didn't want her to talk him out of whatever it was he was planning to say to John.

Anxiety crept in, as she followed after Fisher, a few seconds delayed. She could hear him, frantically calling for her and swallowing, she made her way down the stairs and tugged on her boots, before slipping out the front door. Holding the handle, she glanced back, and for a second... only a second, she considered turning back. But Fisher called again and with a sigh, she pulled the door closed, chasing him down the sidewalk to the bus.

"Don't be such a Bass." She teased, poking him in the shoulder, "He'd wait an hour if you bat those pretty boy lashes at him. C'mon, Fish."
[/hr]
 
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Fisher Hawkins

Fisher rolled his eyes, adding an eyelash bat or two just for Lilah as he followed her into the bus. The fish nicknames were a term of endearment he had quite honestly grown fond of, though at first it was mostly embarrassing. Fisher gripped the edges of the seats as he made his way down the line and nimbly avoided a leg that jutted out to trip him, keeping his gaze set on the empty row at the back. Fisher was not the most popular, but he wasn't often bullied. Solomon was a beefy kid compared to Fisher's lean figure. With Solomon at his side, no one often messed with Fisher, but on his own, he was a scrawny kid to pick on.

All in all it was hard to get Fisher down. He didn't spare a second to look back at the person who had tried to trip him and it hardly bothered him. As long as it wasn't Lilah, he didn't quite care much.

He slid into the greasy seat first as to allow her the open edge, and presented her the option of either an apple or banana. A truly hearty breakfast. "Now that we're all settled in," He announced, grinning at her. "Were ya gonna tell me why you look a little dead inside on this beautiful morning?" He nudged her gently, hoping he was coming off as light and joking, trying not to dampen the mood any more than it already was.

He bit into the apple and patiently waited for a response, glancing out the window as the bus engine grumbled and started up again, beginning to live the quaint Declain house in the distance.

@Elle Joyner
 
Delilah Buress

Even distracted as she was, Delilah wasn't oblivious... And as she passed by the boy who had tried to trip Fisher, she shot him a hateful look, before sinking into her seat.

Propping her legs up, she kicked the back of the chair in front of her, and the kid buckled forward with a jerk, but Lil paid him no mind, looking to Fisher instead.

"It's nothing, Fish. Just didn't sleep good.
Maybe I'm getting sick, too. Who knows." Her eyes shifted forward, her stomach turning over at the lie. She hated it, but Fisher was such a good kid... A sweet kid, and he didn't need the stress.

Yet...

"You like it here, right, Fish? At Ms. Declain's?"
[/hr]
 
Fisher Hawkins

Fisher gazed at Delilah with worry in his eyes. He had flinched at the same time the kid in the seat ahead of him had. Delilah wasn't usually unnecessarily mean like that, unless she was in a bad mood. Something didn't seem right about the answer she gave, and he couldn't help but wonder if she was hiding something from him. In fact, he was going to ask just that when she posed her next question.

His brows furrowed. Did he like it here? Sure. He liked it well enough. He didn't like Ms. Declain and he certainly didn't like John but it was a roof over his head and food in his belly.

"I only like it 'cause you're there," He said warmly, though his gaze was somewhat side. Why was she asking that? "You and Solomon. It'd suck without you guys, honestly. Even if I've had a lot worse." He'd been in the system since birth, first raised in an orphanage before he was carted from home to home. A lot of times he went hungry due to lack of care. He would be thrown into a home entirely overpopulated by foster kids because the older woman was greedy for money. Sometimes the families were abusive, much more than John's assholery. But here it was simple. If he stuck to the routine, kept out of their hair, he had as much freedom as he wanted.

"Why are you asking, Lilah? Is something wrong? You know you can tell me, right? You can tell me anything."

@Elle Joyner
 
Delilah Buress

Desperately, painfully, Delilah wanted to tell him to stop asking her, to beg him just to let it all go. It had been bad enough, telling Solly. It had been bad enough knowing what was happening all on her own. Her eyes misted and she bit hard at the inside of her cheek, as she shook her head, clearing away a lump in her throat.

"It's nothing, Fish. Just..." Sniffing, she shook her head, "Something happened last night. I..."

The sound of the explosion, even from a few blocks away shook the windows in the bus and rattled in Delilah's ears, long after the reverberations ceased. Her heart pounding, she toppled forward as the bus came to a shrieking stop. With a shudder and a jolt, it halted and the others bolted from their seats, moved for the windows, but Delilah didn't move. Couldn't.

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps... and her hands knotted into fists as she straightened up. Slowly, she turned her head to the view. Smoke rose in tendrils, deep black against a pale blue sky, "No... no, no, no. Oh my God, no..."

Rising swiftly, she pushed out of her seat and without a word, she tore down the steps, pushing the door opened as she poured out into the street. Feet to pavement, she didn't stop running. Not until she reached their block, until she could see it... hot flames, climbing high into the sky. Dropping to her knees, she folded into her hands with a sob.
[/hr]
 
Fisher Hawkins

Finally, she was beginning to open up. He sat in silence as she spoke, prepared for anything, promising not to get mad. He wouldn't get mad at her, ever. She looked shaken, scared. What had happened, and had it happened right under his nose? What had happened last night, and how come nobody had told him about it?

As the words were coming out of her mouth the explosion rocked the block and with it the bus. Fisher gripped the seat in front of him as his ears rang. Kids flew from their seats to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse, but Fisher's heart was in his stomach. He knew, and Lilah knew too. The only difference was, Lilah knew why.

He was ashamed to admit that he hesitated. As Delilah burst out in a sprint towards the Declain house, it took him a moment to even rise to his feet to run after her. He shouted her name, trying to keep up. What did you do? What did you do? He couldn't breathe. He didn't want to see it. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

They were supposed to age out together. Grow up together. They were supposed to be there for each other.

He skidded to a halt, worn converse scratching the pavement as he stopped beside Delilah, who had buried her face in her hands. He almost said he was sorry, but he knew it wasn't for what she wanted to hear. He could only stare at the burning home in front of them as he dropped down beside her and wrapped his arm around her.

@Elle Joyner
 
Delilah Buress

SEVEN YEARS LATER
"I just don't understand why they have to invite everyone, Nick. I know your big on family things, but two-hundred people? You don't think that's a little extreme?" A sigh escaped as Delilah ran a brush through her hair, looking over her shoulder to see Nick smiling at her in that infuriatingly disarming way he had about him.

"Because my family members are bunny rabbits, Lil... And I have more cousins than any one man ought to. And because that's sort of the point of a family reunion. To invite everyone." Moving from his seat, he wrapped his arms around her, resting them on her hips to lean in and kiss the back of her neck, "We don't have to stay long. I just... It's been six months and I kinda wanna show you off."

"Show me off?" Snorting softly, Delilah leaned back into him, "You're crazy, you know that? I guess we can talk about it when I get back from work. Just... just promise me you won't say yes until I've had time to think, okay?"

His smile faded, but into something sympathetic, as he traced his knuckles down her cheek, "I promise, baby. I know how hard it is..." Leaning in, he kissed her forehead and sinking back onto his heels, tapped her chin, "Now get outta here, before I'm tempted to make you late."

It was a ten minute walk to her job at the small diner on tenth. Since moving to the city, Delilah had worked there, and thus far had little inclination to move on. Comfort zones. That's what her therapist called them. He said it like it was a bad thing, but Lil wasn't sure why, considering she'd gotten through her life settling into those niches just fine. But meeting Nick had changed a lot, and being with him, there was a part of her that felt stronger... braver than ever. A part of her that was ready to get out into the world and try again.

Why that thought should occur on that particular morning, however, she'd never really know... but when roughly half an hour into her shift, the news report came on over the bar, she was almost positive it was a cruel prank of irony. The headline streamed across the bottom in bright white lettering, and as she read it, the coffee pot she was holding slipped from her grasp and in what felt like slow motion, crashed to the ground in a mad burst of glass and scalding liquid. Delilah stood frozen, oblivious the customers reactions, to the other waitress on shift, rushing to her aid.

John was awake.

The bastard had woken up after seven years.

Wordlessly, Delilah turned and ran from the diner... Ran from the news story. She needed it not to be true, but she couldn't ignore what she had read with her own eyes. They had been covering him for years... the poor little rich boy, the academic wonder, shut down in the prime of his life by a cruel, vicious foster kids. She had born that stigma... carried that cross through the remainder of her teen years, until finally it had driven her away, into seclusion.

But now he was awake, and everything would change again. Arm thrust out, she hailed for a cab. Why, she couldn't fathom, until she heard herself directing the driver to the hospital. She needed to see... to know... in person, if it were really true or not. Then she needed to decide what to do... Where to go next.
[/hr]
 
Fisher Hawkins

It was a slow morning. Muggy and grey, the air was chilly. He would have rather stayed in his bed that day, but if he did, he likely wouldn't have one next month. It was always hard to wake up with bruises forming from his last crusade down the alleyways of Millennium City.

He stared at himself in the mirror, rotating his shoulder and wincing and how his arms was covered in the purple-green marks. This is what he wanted, but goddamn, it hurt. Last night he had done too much. But how was he supposed to keep ignoring the calls, one after one, when nobody was going to do anything? In the heart of the night, so much trouble lurked.

Didn't matter. Today was a new day, and he had work to do. After taking a shower and throwing on clothing, he headed out to his truck. The auto shop opened up at 8 and he was on call most of the day for any roadside work or towing, which worked in his favor when he needed a quick getaway.

Most of the time he worked as his alter ego at night, just to spare himself the risk of being fired. He'd been working in the auto shop since.. since the incident. It made him shudder to think about it. After being transferred to a new home, he started working immediately. Gone were the hopes of growing together alongside his three.. friends. He knew he had to support himself from then on.

At that time he had begun to craft a new identity for himself. It had been a goal born out of the tragedy of his youth, but turned into something he had devoted himself too. He wanted to be Knockout more than anything, and the bruises and the aches didn't matter if he was helping the city and the people of it. The costume that lay in his trunk meant a symbol of justice and hope, and he felt proud to wear it.

At lunchtime (which today, was at 11am. Joy.) he headed to his favorite coffee shop for a cup of joe and a look at the local news. They were beginning to notice him, in the streets or the darkness. He'd often hand his convicts over to the police, and the people who he saved described him to the news. It put a smile on his face to watch. Today, there was no smile.

"Can I get you anything else, sir?" Came the voice of the waitress behind the counter.

Local man in coma for seven years wakes up today! The TV above her blared.

"N...n-no... no, thank you." Came his shaky reply as he slapped a five on the table. "Th..thanks very much."

And with that, he bolted, leaving the waitress and her coffee pot in hand as she watched Fisher rush out. He hurried into his car and sped off to the hospital. He knew where John was. He'd always known. Just in case the bastard died. Anger spilled out of him, his grip on the steering wheel tight enough to make his knuckles white.

He'd tried to leave that life behind, but it kept rising up in his stomach and bubbling in his throat. No, he'd never be free unless Solomon was caught. And he had a good idea of where he would be if John really had awoken.

@Elle Joyner
 
Delilah Buress

There was always a chance... She'd known it from the moment she had bid her life goodbye and moved on. There was always a chance of running into it again - the past. Try as she might've, there was no way to bury everything, and John Declain was just a good reminder of that. But John was not the only factor that she feared resurfacing. John was not even the worst factor...

They had never found him, after the incident, Solomon, and it had haunted Delilah every day for seven years. The thought of turning a corner and running into him... of waking up to find him standing over her. The most troubling aspect of it all was that she had never feared him. Not really. She pitied him, and it broke her heart to think that it was her fault everything had happened. But knowing he was there, knowing he would still resurface...

And Fish. Good old Fish. He had been so distraught after the fact - so broken up about all that had happened. And then he had left, too. A part of her - the part that knew despite her guilt - what had happened wasn't really her fault had wanted to go with him. But he had never asked, and she had lost him in the waves of the system. Lost her last link to the only family she had ever really had. She missed him, but whether or not she could ever forgive him... Maybe it didn't matter. She hadn't seem him since, and had no doubt he was long gone.

The cab arrived outside Mercy General and the driver mumbled something, as Delilah stared out the window, her eyes fixed on the glass windowed facade of the large, multi-storied building. How many times had she come here? Stared up at it and willed herself to walk in... to tell John what she thought. To finally get it off her chest...

"Miss?" The driver said a little louder and glancing to him, Delilah frowned, digging into her purse for the money she owed.

"Sorry. Thanks... " Climbing out a moment later, she made her way to the front door and past the entry desk. She knew the route. In her mind, she had walked it a thousand or more times, from the desk to the elevator and then up three floors to where John's private room waited. She'd never made it inside before, and it had seemed like such a victory, until her finger pressed the button for the elevator and her heart began to hammer hard against her ribcage.

The ascension seemed to take hours, and when the doors opened again, her stomach twisted, roiled as she stepped out. There, at the end of the hallway she could see it... Room 306. Just a few steps and she would be there... Just a few steps and she would...

Turning, swearing softly, Delilah pressed the button to call the elevator again, shaking her head.
 
Fisher Hawkins

Fish pulled into the hospital parking and tugged his jacket zipper up. Truthfully, he was sweating, but being bundled made him feel safer, as well as his the bruises that were open in his short sleeve work shirt, with the name Fisher embroidered on it. He didn’t know what he wanted to do if John was awake when he walked inside. Maybe fib a little. Lie about how good of a roommate he’d been and wait until Solomon appeared.

“Excuse me,” he asked the front desk. “I’m.. here to see John Declain?”

The nurse looked at him quizzically. He had obviously not been here in the seven years that John had been asleep. A sudden visitor was at the very least a bit startling.

“Do you have any relation to the patient?” Came her gentle reply.

He swallowed. “I’m.. his brother.” The reply was strained. He hated to even lie about it. To be related to John Declain.. the thought made his stomach clench. To say the least, he was glad he wasn’t.

“Oh.” Said the nurse. “Room 306, then.” Fisher nodded and left the desk.

He had never liked hospitals, but who did? They were cold and smelled like chemicals, and you only went to the hospital if you were unhealthy, so why would anyone like it? Under his mask he felt a lot more secure than this. But here he felt like a kid again.

Fisher. You’re not seventeen anymore. You’re not a kid. John can’t hurt you anyway.

The elevator travelled up and he couldn’t help but feel by doing this he was doing nothing more then dragging himself down. He tapped his foot out of nervousness and when the elevator opened he had only taken one step outside before..

A familiar face greeted him, one he hadn’t seen in years. He struggled for words, searching her face for a similar kind of shock. It really was her.

“..Lilah?”

He didn’t have a moment to take her presence in. To decide whether or not to hug her, to shout at her, to … to…

There was a strangled cry in room 306 as the door opened and a hooded figure exited. His hands were in his pocket, and the only thing of his face Fisher could see was his smile.

He knew who it was from just that. And he knew what had just happened.

“Get down!” Fisher cried to Lilah, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her to the ground with him.
 
Delilah Buress


The news would report, later, that there was one explosion in the hospital, but Delilah would swear up and down, without hesitation that there were two. The first came as the elevator doors opened and she looked up to see the one face she could not have predicted she might ever see in the same space as her. Her mind rattled and her heart shuddered and for a moment, she stopped, frozen in place... and every thought concussed at once in her head.

He seemed just as startled, and maybe that was fair - but then he spoke and she wanted to tell him not to. To go back to being a figment of her memories... to pretend he hadn't seen her. She wanted to tell him to close the doors and leave and never say another thing to her. To stop looking at her like a lost puppy he'd finally found...

And she started to, her mouth opening, before the cry echoed from behind her, colliding with her tumultuous thoughts, and spinning around she caught side of the man leaving the room before, with the weight of a linebacker, Fisher took her to the ground.

A second later, the second explosion resounded and Delilah felt intense heat crash into her, something sharp striking her cheek, her arm, shrapnel showering into them as they lay before the elevator doors. Her ears rung, the world drowned out by the noise, and a third explosion knocked out the lights, blackness filling the space... Silence, but for the shrieking ringing...

The emergency lights flickered on a moment later and the sprinklers exploded in a stream of cold, sharp pellets of water as Delilah opened her eyes. She could hear an alarm through the ringing, and turning her head, she looked to Fisher, "Alright...?"
 
Fisher Hawkins

It was too much all at once. First John, then Lilah, then Solomon, then.. Boom.

Having attempted to shield Lilah’s body with his own, he had imbued strength into his thick jacket, as much as he could on such a short notice, to protect them both. This had not helped the parts of him that weren’t covered by the coat. There was a stinging pain in the back of his thigh and and he winced at the feeling of liquid running down his forehead. It could’ve been a lot worse.

“Yeah,” He said with a few coughs as he propped himself up. The sprinklers rained down and sirens began to blare, making him squeeze his eyes shut. The ringing in his ears was incessant and the sirens were only making it worse.

“We.. we need to go. They can’t ID us as..” He began to attempt to stand, but wobbled when the shrapnel in his thigh protested against it. A low growl reverberated through gritted teeth. Room 306.. decimated. He’d been too late. And Solomon had just walked off with a grin on his face.

He would’ve kicked the wall if he could hold himself upright properly without it. “Fuck.” He hissed under his breath. “We need to go now.” He looked at Lilah, trying to mask his own pain and gage how much she herself was in.

It was.. Good to see her. Even under circumstances like this. He had pushed the ache away, deep down. She probably had a life now, a good one. He always knew Delilah was gonna be good like that.

He missed her.
 
Delilah Buress

With a small groan, Delilah sat up, pressing the back of her hand to the gash on her cheek. It wasn't deep, but it stung terribly. Pushing herself to her feet, she rubbed her shoulders. Something metal had struck her and already, she could feel a bruise forming. Looking at Fisher, she frowned, "It's a hospital, Fish. They're gonna have cameras..."

It was only a matter of time before they were identified. She and Fish. They would be spotted on the cameras and no doubt, pulled in for questions about why they were there. Their only real saving grace was that they hadn't been in the room when the explosion went off, but Delilah knew all too well how things could turn in the wrong direction. She'd spent too many nights in lockup for the wrong reasons to trust the system didn't have it's kinks.

Thick acrid smoke streamed from what was formerly 306 and the rooms beyond. How many people had been hurt or worse by the blast? Did Solomon even care? Was he capable of caring? Coughing, Delilah waved a hand and the smoke swirled back in the opposite direction, pooling out the gaping hole, into the air. With a small sigh, she turned back to Fisher, gesturing to the metal door marked 'fire exit', "We'll take the stairs. The elevators will be shut down."
 
Fisher Hawkins

Fisher’s expression fell even further when she reminded him there would be cameras. He had entirely forgotten, and hissed under his breath. “Still,” he muttered. “Better than staying and waiting for it.”

Stairs. Great. Fisher nodded reluctantly, waiting for her to go first, hoping the limp wouldn’t be too obvious if he stayed behind her. Leaning against the railing for support, they travelled down. “My truck,” He said breathlessly. “It’s parked outside.”

Nurses rushed passed them in the panic, they took not enough notice to the people going the opposite way. He fumbled in his pocket for the keys and pulled them out, holding them tight in a closed fist.

They made it out without much fuss. Some strange looks, but through the chaos of the explosion Solomon had caused, they were in the parking lot in a matter of moments. His pant leg was soaking with blood and it was entirely counterintuitive to walk out of a hospital when they were both injured, but what could you do.

“There.” He pointed to the pickup painted a tired blue, worn out with plenty of use. His leg burned hot with pain and he cringed with every step. “Er.. it’s probably best if you.. Drive.” He said, gesturing to his leg as he handed her the keys.
 
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