“There's a fire starting here—”

[invoking]

WHO: monica & gil.
WHERE: wherever monica is busting in on.
WHEN: let's go with midnight 3/15.
WARNINGS: violence and language. probably blood.
SUMMARY: wrong place, wrong time. maybe.
FORMAT: quick.


[ It had been months since Gil flexed his marksman abilities, so today after calling the only available shooting range he could find in the City, he went to this Westside Rifle & Pistol Range to take a look himself. They had tried to tell him to browse their webpage, but having no idea how to operate the Internet yet, Gil opted to inspect the place in person. No harm in that. It seemed... alright. It was the only place he could open fire on a target without risking charges.

On the way back, he had taken a taxi instead, not entirely familiar with the area the range was in. After some time when it had become clear the taxi driver was either new or taking a longer route to cheat money out of Gil, he had spoken up. The driver argued back and then Gil found himself growing frustrated and the driver did not take well to it. Upon realizing he was an imPort, Gil got kicked out of the cab ("You fuckin' imPorts think you can just talk however and do whatever you want! Piss off, ya alien!" the driver had yelled) and was left in another unfamiliar part of the city.

Lost and irritable (he barely has any change left), Gil now wanders down the street, debating giving Nelson or Kenzi a call to figure out where he is and where to find the subway. Just as he takes out his phone, he senses there's something-- someone-- else around and he stops, certain he's spotted a shadow moving somewhere past him. ]

Comments

[uzi]

<sub>( The experience is one she's unprepared for. Still holding onto their hostage, Monica sways with the motion of the magic. It is magic, right? She can't even process. She deals with Norse gods on a daily basis, but usually stays away from the explanations. It's too much of a headache.

When her vision clears she's on her knees, though she doesn't remember sinking down to them. She lets the man--now completely out cold--tumble off her shoulders as she catches her breath and clears her head. )</sub>

What the hell was that?

_{( And then, looking around... )}

This is Susan's apartment.

[invoking]

[ He pants lightly, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. With a hasty sleeve he wipes away. ]

My power -- well, rather my chain's power.

[ And he pauses, surprised by her familiarity with the place. ]

You knew Sue Storm?

[uzi]

Your power? That's not like punching out a building, Gilbert! That was--

_{( She pauses, takes a deep breath. Rising to her feet, she nods curtly. )}

She was... a friend. We worked together, back home. Or some version of her. Not much difference, universally.

[invoking]

[ To him, there is a big difference. He knows Sue's family were from all over the so-called multiverse.

He rubs his face again. ]

... Anyway, you can question him now. No one will bother us here.

[uzi]

_{( She gives Gilbert one long, considering look, and then takes a step away with a shrug. She lifts the man onto one of Sue's couches, and unclips a pouch of basic medical supplies from her hip. She doesn't actually want this fool to die, after all. )}

If you want to be useful, boil some water. _{( She calls, over her shoulder, to Gil. )}

[invoking]

[ He has a first aid kit in the bathroom, which he makes a note of fetching as soon as he's gotten the kettle boiling. As he takes off, he does give Monica a look: ] Don't... do anything drastic.

[ He doesn't want a dead person in the house. He already knows if there's evidence left behind he'll probably have to burn it now. ]

[uzi]

_{( She blinks. )}

Mr. Nightray, please. I'm a professional.

[invoking]

[ He moves at a fast pace, disappearing into the bathroom to get the first aid kit and a couple of towels. After another few minutes when the water set in the kitchen has begun to boil and whistles through the nose of the kettle, he fetches it and carefully sets it on the coffee table nearby. He sticks close, just in case. ]

How long have you been after this man?

[uzi]

_{( She's cleaning his wounds, picking out the bullets expertly and quickly. The pain will probably rouse the guy, before long. )}

Him? Six hours. His organization? Three months.

[invoking]

You said they were a danger to imPorts.

[ As he moves in to get a better look at the man, he groans lightly at the sudden pain in his shoulder. He slowly lifts his arm and begins to pull off his coat, the shoulder smeared with blood and he lets it drop to floor, away from anything that could be stained. He can't be sure the blood has stopped, but he needs to apply some pressure to it, so he grabs one of the towels and holds it to his shoulder for now. ]

[uzi]

They are.

_{( She injects something, out of a syringe, into the man's neck. It isn't fatal; she checks his vitals, and finishes wrapping his wounds. Then she turns to Gilbert, nods at his arm. )}

Let me see.

[invoking]

I can manage. [ It's true; he's had worse. He also doesn't want to start opening up his shirt before her, too conscious of revealing his scars so he steps back. ] What are they planning to do? This group.

[uzi]

Don't be stupid. It'll get worse that way.

_{( She says, ignoring her own injury. )}

I'd have a better idea if I knew who was leading them.

[invoking]

[ He shakes his head and raises his good arm to stop her. ]

I'll take care of it.

[uzi]

_{( A pause, then: )}

You'd better. You're too good a shot to waste.

[invoking]

[ He stares at her for a moment too long before he moves back again, looking down the hall to where his room is. He also looks at the closed door to what was once Sue's room -- or still is, given he hasn't touched anything in it. ]

I'll be back shortly and I'll get some something clean to wear. Sue's clothes might be small on you... but it's better than nothing.

[ He eyes the man on the couch for a moment and disappears to get himself patched up. ]

[uzi]

_{( Monica nods, curtly. After Gilbert leaves, she checks the man's vitals again, and then cuffs his hands. She doesn't expect much from him, but also doesn't want to take her chances. From there, she wanders into the kitchen, strips off her jacket and vest, and sees to her own injuries. She's wrapping a bandage, tightly around her temples and the base of her neck, if Gilbert cares to come back, arms and stomach now bare. )}

1/2

[invoking]

[ He's wrapped his own wound after cleaning it up and applying rubbing alcohol to it. It still continues to sting underneath the freshly applied bandage, but he manages through it as he slips on a clean shirt. Buttons take too long, but he goes through the trouble anyway to make sure his neck stays hidden.

After venturing into Sue's room, he gets out some pants and a shirt. He checks on the man in the living room, concluding he's not going anywhere and wanders around looking for Monica. ]

Miss -- oh. [ He averts his eyes quickly, not wanting to stare too long. ]

[invoking]

[ He slips the clothes onto the surface of the table, still not looking at her. ]

I think these will still be small, but they're loose fitting so they won't be too uncomfortable...

[uzi]

Commander.

Or Ms.

_{( The correction is an idle one, before she even bothers to look at him. It's been a long time since anyone's called her "miss," and she doesn't much care for it. When she finally does turn to look at him, she smiles in a twisted way. )}

Are you embarrassed?

[invoking]

[ He swallows nervously and turns around so his back is facing her. ]

Co-- er, Ms. then. Ms. Monica... [ Funny, Natasha had been the same about that. ] Embarrassed? Well... I shouldn't... looking would be inappropriate and rude.

[uzi]

_{( Monica pulls the clothes towards her, shoving her arms through the sleeves of the shirt before pulling it over her head. )}

I'm not naked, Gilbert.

Way you shoot, I figured you'd seen a war camp, before. Or whatever they had back in 1602.

[invoking]

It's still impolite. [ He clears his throat. ] I've trained with guns since I was a young boy. I'm... a servant, therefore it's my duty to protect my master.

[uzi]

Servant? _{( She thought the servility was just his manners. Dressed, now, she pulls out a chair at the counter and sits down. )}

He's not here, is he? Your master.

[invoking]

[ Gil visibly falters for a moment. ]

He's not. [ Homesickness is not something he wants to discuss, however. He quickly turns his attention back in the general direction of that man laying on one of his couches. ] What about him? Did he answer you or is he still unconscious?