and torn into pieces and threw every piece into a fire;

[creampuffedly.livejournal.com]

WHO: Quatre Winner [heartofsandrock], Anezaki Mamori [creampuffedly], Mail "Matt" Jeevas [srsbiznis], Mihael "Mello" Keehl [phallboy], and oh god, anyone else who responded to this post and was given directions and wants to show up I GUESS hurr hurr
WHERE: Streets on the north end, near Jonathan Crane's offices
WHEN: Moments after Quatre's announcement of what happened to Mello
WARNINGS: Er. Aftereffects of violence?
SUMMARY: TIME FOR PEOPLE TO PLAY HERO. SAVE MELLO, SAVE THE WORLD, ETC.
FORMAT: Para.


There wasn't a word in the English language (or Japanese, now that she considered it) that could really encompassed how she had scrambled to get out the door and to the place she'd been directed.

Something really, really beyond horrible had happened, and she thanked her lucky stars that Eve had more or less fixed her ankle, and when the cabs (however expensive) weren't fast enough, she ran.

No, it wouldn't be his time to die. Too soon, not now, not here.

She was there in less than ten minutes, breathing heavily and hoping to god she wasn't too late.

Please don't be too late, please don't be too late, there's no trying, there's only results and winning and--

She'd done her best, but sometimes, she was well aware, her best wouldn't cut it.

She skidded to a halt from her running, stitch painfully digging into her side, when she realized she'd arrived at the intersection. Finally her gaze found the sight in front of her on the ground. Leaning, propped up against a wall like a marionette or a grotesque humanized puppet who's strings have been cut, was Mello, a rather large scythe piercing his chest, breaths away from his heart.

He looked... dead.

But that didn't stop Mamori from instantly dropping to her knees, holding her breath and refusing to panic, not now, not here, maybe later, maybe if he was dead already, clutching onto his hand and focusing so intently only fixing it that she thought she might pass out from the strain.

If someone was watching, they might have seen that the scythe appeared to be slowly inching out of his body, until it would finally simply come to clatter on the sidewalk as his skin knitted itself together.

The process, however, was painfully slow, compared to what it took to fix, say a scratch. Much more like Hiruma's bulletwound, and less like what had happened to his face before.

Still-- steadily, it seemed to be working. The only question that would remain, then, in the end, would be whether he'd wake up when it was all said and done.

[ooc; reply to the main post, not each other? will keep things easier and more organized BD also, feel free to add your own tags as you arrive! \o/]

Comments

[hellcommander.livejournal.com]

[[BRB CRASHING YOUR THREADS]]

Hiruma followed Mamori.

How could he not? She was in such a hurry, and seemed so stressed out about something. Which usually meant amusement for him.

So he waited until she had gone, then took off after her, always too far behind for her to see or notice.

The sight that greeted him was rather gruesome, if nothing else. Someone had gone and stuck a scythe through Mello's chest cavity, or so it seemed. He stood over Mamori, keeping a bit of distance, and tilted his head at the sight like a curious animal, watching even more closely as Mamori healed him.

"Do you know what happened?"

[nezhaqiansui.livejournal.com]

Wufei had left work immediately after receiving directions from Quatre. Few things could make him worry for his fellow pilots and their chosen associates, the tone of Quatre's message happened to be one of them. The restaurant owner hadn't been pleased with Wufei informing him that he'd be leaving an hour before his shift was scheduled to end, and on the eve of Chinese New Year, no less. Wufei figured he'd sort it out later, though, this seemed far more important.

When he arrived on the seen Wufei noticed two things. Firstly, a rather large scythe had just clanked quite unceremoniously to the pavement near a deathly pale Mello. Secondly, there was a girl who appeared to be around his age holding his hand and leaning over the wounded boy. Wufei frowned slightly, he hadn't expected the healer to be a girl. Well, he supposed that really didn't matter as she didn't seem to have any problems performing her designated task.

"What happened here?" Aside from the obvious was an after thought he didn't really feel like voicing. Clearly M had been attacked and Wufei couldn't think of too many people off hand who would choose a scythe as a weapon. He only hoped his assumption was wrong.

[creampuffedly.livejournal.com]

She nearly jumped when she heard his voice out of nowhere.

About a million thoughts all rang through her head at once, all various bitchings at Hiruma for having the indecency of stalking her on something like this because apparently it was some sort of sick fun for him to get into everyone's business but let no one in on his own. Have you been following me?! seemed to rank highest on her list of things to chastise him for without an answer to the question, even, though for now, there were obviously more important things to attend to.

"Not now, I-- hold on a second, okay? I'm-- I need to concentrate, and I can't, and I don't want him to die. No, I don't know anything besides what Sandrock told us."

It seemed to answer the newcomers question, as well, and Mamori was starting to wonder just how many people were going to show up to come watch the spectacle here. She hoped that not too many people would come-- especially not people who Quatre hadn't even given directions to in the first place. The others, the healers, that was one thing, but--

Well, frankly, she wasn't too thrilled about an audience. Made it harder to concentrate, too.

Still, even in spite of that, she closed her eyes once more, letting the calming sensation overcome her as she kept healing him. It felt strange, but it was almost like she could feel that he'd be all right.

She hoped that wasn't just her mind trying to tell her something she wanted to hear.

[nanofragment.livejournal.com]

It had taken a bit longer for Eve to arrive. Being on the other side of the city was unfortunate. Not having the option of wasting her powers on flying was even more unfortunate. M had been injured and although Mamori was a healer... Eve had her worries. She wasn't sure of how bad it was but it must have been pretty damn horrible if assistance was needed.

The girl took a shortcut through an ally and front flipped, using the momentum from that to jump up and grab the top of the fence. For a split second it seemed as if she would fall before she kicked her legs over, released, and landed on the other side. She could see them from here but the first thing that ran through her mind was the peculiar stench of blood.

Blood, blood, blood and even through the years it was all to familiar.

She kept a cold and calm expression as she slid to a stop by the group. Bystanders. She never did like them. Especially when they decided to be useless and do nothing. Eve keeled down and here eyes widened slightly at how bad things were. She refused to let M die though.

Despite the moronic decision of beating the hell out of her friend he meant something to her too.

"Mamori, are you in need of assistance?"

She didn't particularly care about the answer though. The longer he was in this state the sooner and faster he would die.

do we have a posting order here or what? 8|

[phallboy.livejournal.com]

-----------------------------------------------------/\--/\-/\/\/\--

live I will live this is not my time to die not here not like this not in this place this City - !

His muscles stiffened, sore, and shivered, his eyes flying open suddenly and fixing on Mamori.

I made it for him and he was going to kill me. Come up behind me and kill me like the shadow in the night, Shinigami, what is it with him and Shinigami, curses and information he has to know, digging and digging

With a long, low groan, he tried to sit up and fell back with a flash of pain, his body still too weak to support him. Slowly, painstakingly, he reached up to touch his chest, feeling the slowly congealing blood and the smooth skin underneath it. Then he glanced at the ground and the scythe that lay there, encrusted with blood - his - and his gaze grew hard.

He looked around. The usual suspects. Except Hiruma. That was unusual. The look on his face was . . . almost clinical in its curiosity. So he was here to rubberneck. Best to ignore him.

After a long moment, Mello cracked a smile through lips stained red, spreading his hands in their place on the dirty ground. "Everybody having fun yet?"

Order that we post I guess?

[pacifister]

Far too many questions. He stayed out of the way now that Mamori had arrived to heal Mello, still holding his blood soaked vest that he had used to try and staunch the wound. Wufei was the easiest before to talk to here, especially with so many strangers here and he walked toward the other pilot, keeping away from the others.

"Duo attacked him," he murmured quietly in answer to Wufei's question, dropping his vest into the trashcan as he passed it, and playing with the stained cuffs of his shirt, collecting his thoughts. "He went mad and attacked him. We don't know what happened to do it yet, but Catwoman suspects someone else was involved.

He cleared his throat and looked up and it was as if none of the upset had happened, his gaze steady as he met Wufei's eyes. Quatre felt tired and grateful that at least one of his friends was here now that Heero had gone with Duo. Mello's voice didn't startle him, but he did look over at the blond, grateful that he was alive. There would be no death on Duo's hands today.