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capeandcowllogs2012-04-15 03:54 pm
scarabsuited) wrote in capeandcowllogs2012-04-15 03:54 pm
Entry tags:
bang.
WHO: Jaime and some NPCs
WHERE: Columbus & W. 76th
WHEN: 4/16, evening
WARNINGS: Violence, death
SUMMARY: Collateral damage and chronic tl;dr
FORMAT: No
He'd gone to the jail to see Jack almost on a whim, having overheard a small news clip about it in the morning while getting cleaned up and dressed. Still, he spent most of the day teetering and dancing around the idea for various reasons. In the end though, he'd gone. Considering he had nowhere to be until five, he figured he had time. It just ran him a little behind, slowed his pace. Having someone you admired and respected accused of a ton of awful things and dropped into prison had a kind of dampening effect on a good day, really.
A late arrival to the planetarium found it already closed, so as penance there was a modestly priced dinner instead. It was nice. Jaime was getting comfortable with it, this...whatever-you'd-call-it he had going on with Danielle. Relationship? There were dates, yeah...but for some reason, he hadn't been able to really put it in a definitive label. Doing so meant he was really moving on, as though he'd been standing in place for...a year now? More? Wow...
He liked her a lot. She had a great laugh, and she used it a lot. Sometimes he suspected more to laugh at him than with him when he was at his goofiest, but it didn't bother him much. She had a way of distracting him, of forcefully pulling him out of his doldrums of routine and make him be spontaneous once in a while. Hence, the planetarium. But those sorts of trips required a little planning ahead, as he pointed out and teased her about over and over at dinner.
No big deal, she'd said, waving it off. They could go get those plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars that go on walls and ceilings, she suggested. Decorate his living room. Make it pretty. He rolled his eyes but didn't exactly say no, and she tucked that one away as a mental note.
With time to kill, they took a walk, going up and down blocks between a pair of streets she knew well enough to not get them lost. Not that it was something he worried about; he'd seen most of that section of town from above...and having that internal, alien, multi-purpose tech was handy. No way they'd get really lost.
They went on about classes – finals were almost over, thank God – and some of the weird people they'd seen over the course of the week. People watching was a hobby of hers, and he was starting to see the appeal, though he didn't share her nearly half her enthusiasm about it. He still found it funny when she'd take out her notebook to show him her daily tally from the subway of how many people wore x-kind of outfit or y-kind of shoes...She said she was excited to see all the upcoming Croc-shoes disasters for summer.
Yeah, she was kind of a dork. But in a good way.
There were no muggers to beat up or fires to put out or cars to unwedge from each other after fits of road rage gone too far. Just some decent food and weird things to talk about, distracting him from the gloomy parts of his day. It was good. They walked until streetlights started flickering on, though daylight was just barely peeking out between some buildings.
With how casually the truck had been driving and no unusual powers to take stock of, Scarab hadn't even begun to detect the problem before gunfire blasted through the calm buzz of the evening. Disregarding civilian disguise (and all the care Jaime had gone into making sure Danielle did not know), the suit was starting to creep up from the spine, the back of the neck...
It halted for a good two seconds as a bullet went in from the side of the head, dropping him to the concrete. All Jaime had heard was something loud clanging against metal – a streetlamp? But nothing more.
A man on the stoop of an apartment slumped over, peppered with holes that had spattered cement rails beside him in red, red starting to pool and trickle down a step. A woman had dropped, clutching her head and curled up, screaming with the rest of the few on the street. Danielle had staggered and tripped, nearly pulled down by the arm with Jaime, and wound up gawking dumbly from the red halo around his head to the matching color on her calf.
The two seconds long since passed, and so had the need for the armor. It all sucked back in, with systems going right into emergency repairs, trying to salvage what it could and get Jaime breathing again. It couldn't just push the bullet out, however; that could do more damage than good. It waited in growing urgency for the girl to just let go so it could safely shock him back to life. Seconds turned into a minute and then more, though, and she had yet to let go (or do much of anything, as far as Scarab knew; Jaime's eyes were closed, sensors were limited).
Three minutes, and then there were more hands on the body, as if spitting on Khaji-Da's wishes. This was a problem. After all the nagging and nagging to do no harm to innocent people, it was becoming increasingly clear that a few people were just going to have to endure some high voltage if Jaime was ever going to get the chance to nag again.
The voltage came from elsewhere, four minutes in. Ah. Right. Paramedics, there to do what the Scarab had wanted to do ages ago. Well, if it worked...
Six minutes. They'd ceased, and assumed failure. Hands cleared away, probably to tend to the living. Interrupted, of course, by the odd display of a body giving itself a few more electroshocks to force that stupid, don't-hurt-the-civilians-Scarab, no-lethal-weapons-Scarab heart of his to work. And it did, much to witnesses' shock. Whatever conclusions they were making were irrelevant, however; Khaji-Da had much work to do to keep his living-again host still living.
Seven minutes was a real problem, though.
WHERE: Columbus & W. 76th
WHEN: 4/16, evening
WARNINGS: Violence, death
SUMMARY: Collateral damage and chronic tl;dr
FORMAT: No
He'd gone to the jail to see Jack almost on a whim, having overheard a small news clip about it in the morning while getting cleaned up and dressed. Still, he spent most of the day teetering and dancing around the idea for various reasons. In the end though, he'd gone. Considering he had nowhere to be until five, he figured he had time. It just ran him a little behind, slowed his pace. Having someone you admired and respected accused of a ton of awful things and dropped into prison had a kind of dampening effect on a good day, really.
A late arrival to the planetarium found it already closed, so as penance there was a modestly priced dinner instead. It was nice. Jaime was getting comfortable with it, this...whatever-you'd-call-it he had going on with Danielle. Relationship? There were dates, yeah...but for some reason, he hadn't been able to really put it in a definitive label. Doing so meant he was really moving on, as though he'd been standing in place for...a year now? More? Wow...
He liked her a lot. She had a great laugh, and she used it a lot. Sometimes he suspected more to laugh at him than with him when he was at his goofiest, but it didn't bother him much. She had a way of distracting him, of forcefully pulling him out of his doldrums of routine and make him be spontaneous once in a while. Hence, the planetarium. But those sorts of trips required a little planning ahead, as he pointed out and teased her about over and over at dinner.
No big deal, she'd said, waving it off. They could go get those plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars that go on walls and ceilings, she suggested. Decorate his living room. Make it pretty. He rolled his eyes but didn't exactly say no, and she tucked that one away as a mental note.
With time to kill, they took a walk, going up and down blocks between a pair of streets she knew well enough to not get them lost. Not that it was something he worried about; he'd seen most of that section of town from above...and having that internal, alien, multi-purpose tech was handy. No way they'd get really lost.
They went on about classes – finals were almost over, thank God – and some of the weird people they'd seen over the course of the week. People watching was a hobby of hers, and he was starting to see the appeal, though he didn't share her nearly half her enthusiasm about it. He still found it funny when she'd take out her notebook to show him her daily tally from the subway of how many people wore x-kind of outfit or y-kind of shoes...She said she was excited to see all the upcoming Croc-shoes disasters for summer.
Yeah, she was kind of a dork. But in a good way.
There were no muggers to beat up or fires to put out or cars to unwedge from each other after fits of road rage gone too far. Just some decent food and weird things to talk about, distracting him from the gloomy parts of his day. It was good. They walked until streetlights started flickering on, though daylight was just barely peeking out between some buildings.
With how casually the truck had been driving and no unusual powers to take stock of, Scarab hadn't even begun to detect the problem before gunfire blasted through the calm buzz of the evening. Disregarding civilian disguise (and all the care Jaime had gone into making sure Danielle did not know), the suit was starting to creep up from the spine, the back of the neck...
It halted for a good two seconds as a bullet went in from the side of the head, dropping him to the concrete. All Jaime had heard was something loud clanging against metal – a streetlamp? But nothing more.
A man on the stoop of an apartment slumped over, peppered with holes that had spattered cement rails beside him in red, red starting to pool and trickle down a step. A woman had dropped, clutching her head and curled up, screaming with the rest of the few on the street. Danielle had staggered and tripped, nearly pulled down by the arm with Jaime, and wound up gawking dumbly from the red halo around his head to the matching color on her calf.
The two seconds long since passed, and so had the need for the armor. It all sucked back in, with systems going right into emergency repairs, trying to salvage what it could and get Jaime breathing again. It couldn't just push the bullet out, however; that could do more damage than good. It waited in growing urgency for the girl to just let go so it could safely shock him back to life. Seconds turned into a minute and then more, though, and she had yet to let go (or do much of anything, as far as Scarab knew; Jaime's eyes were closed, sensors were limited).
Three minutes, and then there were more hands on the body, as if spitting on Khaji-Da's wishes. This was a problem. After all the nagging and nagging to do no harm to innocent people, it was becoming increasingly clear that a few people were just going to have to endure some high voltage if Jaime was ever going to get the chance to nag again.
The voltage came from elsewhere, four minutes in. Ah. Right. Paramedics, there to do what the Scarab had wanted to do ages ago. Well, if it worked...
Six minutes. They'd ceased, and assumed failure. Hands cleared away, probably to tend to the living. Interrupted, of course, by the odd display of a body giving itself a few more electroshocks to force that stupid, don't-hurt-the-civilians-Scarab, no-lethal-weapons-Scarab heart of his to work. And it did, much to witnesses' shock. Whatever conclusions they were making were irrelevant, however; Khaji-Da had much work to do to keep his living-again host still living.
Seven minutes was a real problem, though.