2007-07-03: Hell Train

Starring:

William_icon.gif Cherise_icon.gif GimmieDat_icon.gif Grant_icon.gif Gwen_icon.gif Rochelle_icon.gif George_icon.gif Kitty_icon.gif Namir_icon.gif

Guest Starring:

Linus and Don

Summary: A motley crew of subway passengers come to an unexpected halt when two men turn out to be terrorists.

Date It Happened: July 3rd, 2007

Hell Train


Subway, somewhere in NYC

Late afternoon and the sun is starting to fade in the west. Though here underground, there is no sun — just fluorescent lighting and uncomfortable seats. The subway train is running as normal with its usual strange mixture of different people from all over New York. Plenty of them are men and women making their way home from work — it is definitely a busy sort of time. It's standing-room-only in most cars, and the crowd sways with the train's movements as it hurtles toward its destination. Ho-hum.

William is chatting on his phone in Spanish. His voice is low, not feeling the need for the whole train to hear what he's saying. He's got one hand held onto a pole, the other on his phone. He's dressed for summer weather in a pair of board shorts, flip flops, and a t-shirt with a messenger bag slung over one shoulder.

"All I am saying is that on one hand it's illogical. It implies that women are the weaker sex, as if somehow they /can't/ stand as well as men, but--" This is coming from somewhere in the middle of the crowd gathered in the train car, Grant with a hand clenching the above… hanger-onner-grippy-thing, I don't know what it's called okay. And he's talking to Gwen just beside him, who may or may not be listening. "Then again," he goes on, "one could argue that in terms of choice and preference, it's men who are higher up on the foodchain to begin with, so maybe it's just a kind of compensation." Beat. "Don't you think?" Yes, he's one of those. The kind that talk often and rapidly on a crowded train.

The young mechanic, Kitty is leaning against a wall of the train with her iPod on. The volume is up very loud, so that she can still hear if someone were to talk to her. She is wearing a dark blue tank top with her favorite brown leather jacket with a white flowing skirt and black leather boots. Her signature fingerless gloves are on and they are dark blue and black. Her messenger bag is slung over her shoulder and she scans the train from time to time, just out of curiosity.

"Uh huh, whatever honey bear." Gwen is standing next to Grant in the subway car, holding onto one of the bars and swaying with the movement of the subway. She has one of her high heeled feet stuck out in an uncaring manner and is holding a thick fashion magazine in one hand. "Very fascinating. Big words, big words, big words, agree completely." Of course, she doesn't sound like she agrees at all. Or is even listening. In fact, she seems like she's incredibly engrossed in her magazine. Probably that's because he is. "So, would you say Matt Damon's pecs are seriously manly or just mostly manly? I think I'm leaning more toward the first one. I mean, look. This shouldn't be possible to see through shirts."

Also standing nearby is George, dress clothes becoming increasingly rumpled as the ride goes on. "I think," he offers to Grant, "it's just that when you shove this many people into this small a space, you have to directly /tell/ people to not be a dick." With a grin, he glances past him and nods to Gwen. "Man's aged well, hasn't he?" Any physical resemblance here is coincidental, we swear!

"Listen, G." Sashaying from one end of the subway car to the other is difficult when it involves squeezing her way past other passengers, but Cherise manages to do it, even if it's only for two seconds at a time before she has to shove past someone else. Decked out in a cotton candy halter top glittering with jewels here and there - no match for the diamond-encrusted 'C' around her neck - and denim shorts of the very shortest variety, she flips an immaculately styled wave of dark hair over one shoulder has she talks to her compatriot behind her. "I'm just sayin' that we gotta get our shit togetha' if you wanna get any angles on… …Gimmie?" The young thang ("lady" is not a proper term, let's be honest) turns around on her (incredibly high!) heels. "Gimmie? The hell did— " Cherise just shakes her head and keeps going as if this disappearing act is common. "Boy's trippin', thinks he's a damn ninja…" Mumble, mumble.

Coming down the cars for whatever reason, Rochelle enters this particular car in a possible bid to either find a crowd or get out of one; unfortunately, all of them seem to be crowded so far. There is a permanent stain of dust on her jeans, and over the shoulder strap of a black razorback shirt is hanging a slightly teardrop-shaped instrument case. With the approach of Rochelle also comes a field that many people within this car will not appreciate—a negation field, passive and at first unnoticeable. The large woman sighs to herself as she surveys the car and some of its inhabitants, one hand lifting up to reluctantly grip an empty piece of metal bar above her head.

With his hood up, Gimmie Dat is nowhere to be seen. Or everywhere to be seen, considering how crowded the subway is. He's trying his best to blend in with everyone and no one at the same time. Things are just not happening for him at the moment. "Yo! Back up off me, mang! You shol' don't be wantin' nunna' dis!" So much for being a ninja, right? Gimmie Dat tries to make his not-quite-opponent scared by looming as much as possible, but considering he's not that intimidating, well, he may or may not be handling business. "Ch-checkity check yo' self, before you wreck yo' self, dogg!"

The white boy being accosted by Gimmie's gang related actions just holds up his hands. What a cornflake.

The brakes on the car shriek as they are applied, just as they usually are when the train is coming to a halt. It almost seems like a regular stop …

… except the subway doesn't have a stop here.

As the train grinds to a standstill, passengers start to rise to their feet, expecting to disembark. Among them are two men, each one standing near the exits leading onto the other cars, each one shouldering a large bag. Confusion starts to set in among the commonwealth when the doors remain closed.

William says a few last words into his phone as the train moves to a halt. He snaps the phone closed and tucks it into his messenger bag as he looks around. Something is definately not right here, and Will is not going to just sit back. Nope. He's got to figure out what is going on, peering through the people.

Sigh. /Sigh/. Grant rolls his eyes ceilingwards, but he really should be used to this by now. As George cuts in, and he glances over at him. "That's true. Everyday gender politics, either completely neglected due to limited space and option, or perhaps even heightened. Interesting." /Huh/. Grant will have to look into that, later. Now, he looks at the magazine. He's pretty sure that if the word 'objectifying' comes out of his mouth, he's gonna get a high-heel through the foot. So instead, he says, "Very manly." And that is when the train comes to its halt, and he sighs, shifting so that others can bustle through. Because why else would the train halt! "You'd think they were just making up stops for the heck of it, some days."

Kitty stands up a little straighter and puts her iPod in her bag. She frowns and doesn't like the feeling she is getting. She notices the two men at the exit and she squints her eyes and looks closer. What's with the bags? She pats Suzie Q in her messenger bag and keeps a close watch on the two men and shakes her head. Aw shit. She thought it was going to be a normal if you can call any subway ride normal. She looks and notices Will but doesn't say anything, not wanting to grab too much attention. Kitty tilts her head and some strands of her hair fall into her face. Maybe she is just being paranoid. Who would try anything on a subway train full of people? But to be on the safe side she keeps a watch on the two men, her body slightly tense.

Should Grant say 'objectifying' he would probably not get a heel through his foot. He'd get Gwen sighing and saying 'yeaaaah' in a happy manner. She has no qualms with objectifying handsome men. "Yeah. I think so. Maybe if I buy you a shirt like this one, you'd start to look like that." Gwen's very good for self esteem, isn't she? As the subway starts to slow to a stop, she reaches out to tug at Grant. "C'mon, I think this is our stop." Even if this isn't actually a stop. "Or, well, it'll be our stop once the doors open. And once we're at the platform. What the hell, why is this subway stopping where there's no stop?" Moving for the doors, she starts knocking on them as if that's going to make them open faster. "Open the doors! Walking is faster than your damn subway!"

George inclines his head to Grant. "I'm sure you're right," he offers; he follows the dissertation well enough, but doesn't want to try keeping pace, not in this crowd. What's a professor type like him doing hanging out with the likes of Gwen, anyway? And is that other guy over by Gimmie gonna wet himself? Because that would really stink up the place in a hurry. And what's Kitty gawking at over— oh, and why /is/ the car stopping someplace that isn't a stop, anyway?

Aaand there's that familiar voice she hadn't heard for ten seconds. Cherise just rolls her eyes when she hears Gimmie again. Accosting random strangers. Whatever. This, too, apparently happens all the time. "Gimmie— " Cut off by the sudden, sharp stop, she's jostled by the movement of the train and nearly trips over Gwen's foot. "Ugh!" She reaches up to swipe one of the handles, grabbing on before disaster happens, but her dark eyes narrow on the men with the bags. And the windows. And the doors. She backpedals toward Gimmie, squirming oh-so-casually along. She's just goin' to re-find her friend, ignore the chick in booty shorts walking backwards, everyone. "Yo, you see them boys with the bags, G?" Cherise knows impending crime when she sees it. Now that she's by Gimmie Dat, she keeps her voice low 'n' husky. Because that is just how her voice sounds when she's trying to be sneaky, okay? "About to get hot in here and it ain't no Nelly video on the damn train. I got a feelin' I'm about to regret not takin' the Ghettro."

Rochelle, like Grant, is sighing, though her reason is purely exasperation with this crowded subway trip. As the train comes to a halt, she prepares to let go of the metal and bustle out as soon as she can— that is if the doors would have opened. The woman has already taken a step, however, and for this reason she absently bumps hard into the standing person next to her, which might start a small chain of even more bumping around. Oops. "Ah— my bad." Once half of an apology escapes her, Rochelle casts her eyes around in interest, vision obscured by shoulders and heads. Time to pay attention.

"And don't you even be thinkin' 'bout tryin' to Judge Judy my ass! I got mad notes! Mad folks! And mad--" That's pretty much when the train does the shoulder lean and everybody's shifted. Which causes the nerdy white boy to collide with Gimmie Dat. The 'excuse me' that Gimmie gets isn't enough, apparently, because he's looking down at himself. "OH HELL NAW! AIN'T NO WAY! THIS MAN DUN STEPPED ON MY J's!" The anger is rising, even though he's not wearing Jordans at the moment, he still has to say it. "Yo, you 'bout to end up on a first class trip to Lights Out, homie." And Gimmie's even cracking his knuckles at this point, as if that's good enough to scare Cornflake.

Cherise's words are falling on deaf ears, because Gimmie Dat is too busy trying to punk this white foolio.

It's just like it seems: crime is going down. The two men calmly set down their bags, unzip them, and withdraw large assault rifles from within. Those closest and within sight of the guns are the first to notice, as well as those who have been watching the men in the first place. The crowd starts to undulate and grow noisy with gasps and panicked cries.

"Ladies and gentlemen," one of the men calls, loud enough to be heard over the noise, "my name is Linus, and you are all going to become my good friends for a few hours."

The other man casually points his gun at Gimmie. "Back off the guy, darkie, or we'll be seeing if you bleed black too."

Anyone sane may be edging away from the men with the big guns, but William is slowly making his way towards them. He's not going to barrell headfirst towards them, but he's edging his way through the crowd, trying to stay near the walls of the subway car, considering his options as he gets a good look at the guns the men are carrying, cursing under his breath in several different languages.

"Gwen, no, we— damnit, Gwen." Grant starts pushing past people after Gwen as his not-or-maybe-yes-girlfriend heads for the doors, because this totally not their stop— except it's not even a stop, and then… well everything is pretty self explanatory after that. Grant's hand automatically goes out to grip Gwen's arm just above her wrist as soon as he sees the weapons, eyes going wide. "Heck." Those are some large guns alright. Or normal assault rifles. Matter of perspective. He starts quickly looking around for an exit that perhaps they could slink to through the still restless crowd, specifically the entrance to the other train cars.

"God damn it all to hell," Kitty mutters and gets ready to put her hand on Suzie Q and gets ready to pull the glock out but she thinks better of it. Not wanting to shoot just yet and risk hurting someone. She watches as William makes his over and she sighs. "He is gonna get himself killed," she mumbles and shakes her head. She will wait for the MOMENT on using Suzie Q. Let's hope her aim is good when she uses her.

"Heck, I think the swear you're looking for is 'fuck'," Gwen hisses at Grant as soon as she sees the guns appearing out of bags. "What the hell." Stepping away from the door and back into the crowd so that she doesn't stand out too much, she glances around at her fellow 'friends' that they're supposed to stay with for the while. "This city is crazy. And I'll be damned if they think they're getting my Matt Damon special Vogue."

George can't really back up, there's a wall right behind him, but he does flatten himself back against it. Other people are better equipped to deal with this mess directly; he can do more good by discreetly tweaking some karma. (Well, he can't, because of the Haitian chick, but he doesn't know that.) "What the hell?" he mutters, mostly to himself. "It's a /subway car/. You can't take a /subway car/ to Miami!"

Is he still— he's still tripping out white nerd boy. Should Cherise be surprised? Let's wait 1.5 seconds to decide: no. Cherise, being jostled around by the increasingly restless and stumbling crowd, is in the process of waving her hands around and snapping her fingers beside Gimmie Dat when the men in charge of this afternoon's Crime Time start giving orders. Staring incredulously at the man who shouts at Gimmie, she opens her mouth and gives him a very haughty look as if she's about to scold him 'til he needs a new ear, but instead, she grabs the arm of the Dude of Hazzard. Or whatever random mass of fabric in his outfit she manages to grab. "Check out this shit. Heeell no."

With all the sudden and hushed panic, it is not difficult to ascertain what has just happened. Rochelle keeps quiet, shifting with the crowd so that she can get a little closer to one of the walls; she comes out of the line nearby where Kitty stands, keeping her brown eyes alert and her mouth shut. There is nothing on the outside that is visibly rattled, but naturally on the inside her organs have figuratively knotted completely together in nervousness. Well, /shit/—and she was hoping to walk her dog before it got too late. What a pickle indeed.

"Linus? Yo, this nizzle named Linus?! Like that dude from Harry Potter? Yo. that name is 'bout as wack as Cherise tryin' to rock suntin' that actually covers her ass, yo. You gotsta' be out yo' mother fu--"

It's at this point that Gimmie Dat notices the big ol' gun in his face. "--- OH LORD JESUS HE GOT A GUN!"

Gimmie Dat faints.

When Gimmie faints, he knocks into a few people in the crowd, who shriek. The nerdy white guy is one of them. He doesn't sound very manly when he screams. Linus rolls his eyes ceilingward, then lets out a sharp and very loud whistle to get the attention of those who have stopped listening in the commotion. "Hey! Now everyone just remain calm, all right? We don't need any heroes here. Heroes get people killed. Heroes get themselves killed. Just do what I tell you and everyone will get out of here alive, got me? What I need now is for you five— " he points at Kitty, then Gwen, Rochelle, and two young children "-- to come over here with me for a second." With one hand, he starts digging around in his bag.

The man with his gun trained on Gimmie is too distracted to really see William's approach. He's not paying much attention at all to the crowd, really, instead glaring at the fallen Black man, and then at Cherise. "You shut your whoring mouth or I'll stick this gun in it and pull the Goddamn trigger."

William is still assessing the situation. Two gunmen not near each other. There's the risk that if he takes out the one distracted by Gimmie and Cherise, Linus will start shooting. But having them both distracted is as good a chance as he's going to get. He makes a move for the attacker while he's mouthing off at Cherise, aiming to get the gun out of the man's hands, or at least get it pointed at the ground. And hopefully not get anyone shot in the process.

"Fuck me!" she says and shakes her head as she walks towards the men, she removes her hand carefully from Suzie Q, so that the men would notice something amiss. She shakes her head again and walks pass George, "This sucks major dick," she gaps as she watches William advance and closes her eyes. Here we go.

Grant is excellent bystander material, he truly is. He's the one that goes along quietly, maybe with a remark and a glare here and there, and if it were a movie, he'd probably live through it! Unless everyone dies, then he's gone. Let's hope and pray that that doesn't happen, right. He curses, not just a heck, when Gwen is directed away from him, and considers just finding a place to duck. Except that someone is playing hero. Which is, like the terrorist implied, a pretty stupid thing to do. On your own. Which is why William gets some assistance from… Grant. Oh god why. Either way, the professor makes a move to assist, perhaps try and knock him off-balance so that disarming can commence. /Then/, whatever happens, he ducks.

Good thing Gwen isn't a hero. Very far from, actually. When told to come forward, however, she doesn't like that idea. Being singled out by people with guns definitely never bodes well for anyone. Or at least for her, and that's who she cares about. Luckily, before she can even take a step forward, William is flinging himself forward at the men with the guns and people are starting to scatter a little. And, of course, Grant flings himself forward. "Grant! You can't fight!" she calls after him, helpfully. "Go for the crotch! Men can't do anything after a swift kick to the nuts!" This is her version of cheerleading. But, unlike the others, she's not about to jump in to help. No no, she'll stay back here with the crowd and try to hide behind someone like a shield.

Well. Is George's schtick working? He doesn't know. In any case, lacking a gun of his own, nor mad fighting skills, he opts for a bluff. "--Jesus, no, they're gonna plug you first!" he abruptly calls out, making a point of looking past the bad guys to a spot where there /isn't/ someone sneaking up on them, but there /could/ be. Hey, maybe they'll be stupid enough to look, right?

Cherise looks blandly down at the crumpled black dude at her feet. Her bare shoulders slump. "You're the worst damn criminal on the planet. Jesus CHRIST. This ain't no time to bite it, fool!" Then what does she do? She KICKS HIM IN THE RIBS WITH HER BOOT, that's what she does, because damnit, GDat, now she's just surrounded by strangers, some of which have guns! Who are yelling at her! She whips her hands up, wiggling all ten of her long fingernails with a flash of red and the sparkle of nail gems. Cherise affects a dramatic roll of her kohl-lined eyes, barely containing a scoff. Those eyes are widening by the second, hinting that she really might be scared, but she makes like this is just an annoying inconvenience. "Okaaaaay, okay, deezaaam," she says under her breath — before shutting her whoring mouth, which is about when William and Grant bust in with their heroics. She steps back, nearly trips over Gimmie Dat, wobbles on her high heels, catches herself and stares. This? Not gonna end well. When she rolls her eyes this time, it's for real.

Rochelle complies with the demand reluctantly at first, frowning profusely and glancing over at Kitty when they both move forward toward Linus. That is when the commotion on the opposite end of the car earns her attention for the split second—on purpose or accident, she keeps Linus and Kitty in her peripheral vision, mouth twisting in a silent grimace. If William does well, then maybe it'll be a good enough distraction for anything else the car's crowd can suddenly drum up. Good or bad, she's at least ready for it now.

As soon as William's hand hits the assault rifle's barrel, he's met with resistance. The man holding it struggles against the teacher, grappling. In the conflict, his finger squeezes the trigger, sending a few bullets into the crowd. When Grant leaps in with his own unhelpfulness, the man attempts to stamp down hard on Grant's foot. Meanwhile, he's twisting the gun hard toward William in an attempt to get the barrel pointed at some body part. The trigger is pulled once again, ripping a few holes into the car's floor (and hopefully William's body).

Linus sighs at his end of the car, like a man who was just told to piss off by a little boy. Without hesitation, he removes his hand from the duffel and steadies his rifle, taking aim.

BAPBRAP.

There's a scream from a distraught mother as the two young children he had originally singled out fall dead to the floor of the car. Linus reaches into the duffel again and withdraws a vest strapped tightly with blocks of explosive.

"Do you all want to die?!" he shouts, and for the first time, a bit of anger shows.

The bullets do rip into the floor. And William's foot and then leg as the gunman gets better aim. William continues to fight for the gun though until Linus fires his weapon. That leg isn't holding out any longer, and William slumps to the ground. Assault rifle at pretty close range doesn't make for pretty, neat gunshot wounds. Well, there went that plan. It's probably a good thing he can't see the bodies of the kids from the floor near Gimmie.

…well that worked in the way that it spectacularly didn't. It could have worked. The idea that the men would actually kill people goes from foreign and impossible to reality in a few short moments, and Grant immediately falls back as soon as triggers are pulled. Oh Jesus. A slight limp back a few paces due to his now very bruised foot and his hands go up, now that the grapple seems to have failed, and Grant sits down heavily in a vacated seat. He doesn't want to look down the end of the car where he can hear a woman screaming, that— yeah he's just going to watch the gunman he'd attempt to disarm warily.

Kitty runs and dodges behind one of the seats, facing a little bit away from Linus. Except she hits her head on the wall and gets dizzy for a second. Her eyes cross momentarily and she shakes her head as she wobbles in her crouch. "Wrong day to fuck up" she mutters and grabs Suzie Q. Ready to draw, as soon as the opportunity rises. She looks over to the commotion behind her and winces, hoping that William doesn't get killed. Oh and Grant too. Her gaze then narrows onto the kid's bodies on the floor. Her eyes widen and she shakes a little. He just killed kids! Kitty shakes her head again and tries to stop the ringing her ears.
The hood of her leather jacket has fallen over her face and she breathes shakily. Damn these men to hell and back and she hopes they get a big fat horn shoved up their-. Oh nevermind!

Things are getting messy aboard la subway de hostage and Gwen does not like that. Quickly looking to her left, where there are clusters of scared and angry people and then to her right where an ad by the New York Police declares, 'If You See Something, Say Something' she groans. The irony cannot even pass up Gwen. She's no fighter and the eruption of violence from the other guys isn't about to make her want to step up and help here. If everyone just cooperates, maybe they'll get out of here in one piece. Those that still have pieces, that is.

George claps a hand over his mouth as he sees the kids hit the floor. Okay, no, he's not going to lose it; time enough for that later. Instead, he stumbles forward, heedless of Linus and his Bomb Voyage gig, and kneels down to get a closer look at the bodies. Those shots /might/ not have been fatal, after all, in which case split seconds could make the difference.

Shrieeeek! "… hohshit." That's it. Cherise hits the ground. She crouches beside the useless lump that is Gimmie Dat, holding on to her head and tugging down on her hair with fists. She jumps a little when William falls down nearby and proceeds to be completely unhelpful, just curling into a little ball of scantily clad woman and trying not to look at the kids. She eyes Gimmie Dat almost wistfully. She talks to him quietly — bottomline is, she's talking to herself, but who cares at this point? "You got it easy. Where're the popo when you actually need 'em? Yeah. Screw Q bein' all up in dat, shoulda taken the Ghettro anyway."

Rochelle does her utmost best to remain rigid as all of this unfolds, stepping a pace away towards the wall when both triggers decide to make something happen—unfortunately, the kids and apparently William got the wrong end of that rampage, and it breaks her heart in no time at all to hear it and see it. The grimace has flattened into a rather angry frown, eyebrows having bent to match with the creases in her forehead. A moment passes where Rochelle glances to the side to check on the young woman that was also called out, but for the most part her seething expression is concentrated on Linus. Oh, if looks could kill. "What the hell do you want, then? You made your goddamn point." Rochelle's angry bellow seems much like the growling of an equally angry animal, but she visibly refrains from continuing onto some tirade immediately afterwards.

"You son of a bitch!" roars the second man once he's freed. He swings the rifle around to take a bead on William's head, but Linus reins him in: "Don, don't. They'll be more inclined to listen when they hear we've got wounded."

Linus lowers the vest again, staring the crowd down. "What did I tell you about heroes, huh? Those two kids are dead now because someone didn't listen." His eyes go pointedly to Gwen, Kitty, and Rochelle. "Now you three, get over here." He crouches and slides the vest forward a little on the floor in front of him, then proceeds to retrieve a four more vests: one extra large, two normal sizes, and two children sizes. Two more children are motioned out, though they look a bit older than the previous pair. "You're gonna put those on for me. And you— " he looks toward George "-- shut her up." He speaks of the mother, who has gone into hysterics and now kneels near the bodies of her children. Unfortunately, the wounds are quite fatal. One of the children is already dead; the other's eyes have glazed over and her pulse is terribly faint.

Funny Gwen should be thinking of the NYPD, because at that moment, members of the ESU are quietly making their way down the dark subway tunnel, keeping low and moving quickly down toward the train. It's fortunate so many people have cell phones in this day and age. Help can get called so quickly. Among the officers is Namir Dayan.

William isn't going to make any more moves at the moment. His current contributions are limited to the blood flowing out of his leg and foot to the floor and the half-conscious mummurings of what sounds like it could be Arabic, more cuss words most likely as it starts after Linus mentions the dead children.
Kitty sighs and removes her hand from Suzie AGAIN. She winces as her head is throbbing a little. She makes her way towards Linus, but she moves slowly though. Just hoping something else happens so that she will get a chance to shoot again.

She looks back at William. He is so going on the Heroes list of her. Dorian might think he is alittle reckless, but he will get over-. Why am I thinking about this right now? Kitty mentally slaps herself. FOCUS! Right there are two gunmen, with bomb vests!

Grant? Is staying put, visibly shaken by those last few moments. His gaze snaps to Linus, then to Gwen, a flicker of… something. A lot of concern and a trace of panic because this can't go well and she's really irritating and all but damnit, Gwen. All the same, he's found a seat, a sideways facing one, out of what looks to be harm's away, with easy ducking room, and he's staying there. He does, however, focus on Linus once more. And focus. And frown. Something's not right - you know, aside from all that is obviously wrong.

Oh. Hell no. The man with a gun does /not/ want her to wear an explosive vest. Gwen gives that thing the eye. Not only does it carry the potential to be extraordinarily fatal, it doesn't really go with her outfit. And neither of those things are going to go well with her. However, he's shown that he'll shoot cute little kids and she's a little older, though just as cute in her opinion. Slowly, she steps forward, despite it being against everything she would /like/ to do. Glaring at Linus and at Grant for good measure, she picks her way to the front. She doesn't bend over to pick up the vest, though, oh no. If she's going to be made to wear something explosive, she's not going to be the one that bends over to get it. "I can't bend over in my skirt," she tells the hostage man with an incredibly straight face.

George shoots Linus a hard look, but… realistically, getting the mom to quiet down would probably be helpful for everyone. Not that it's going to happen in a million years. He makes a go of it, though, reaching out and squeezing one of her hands in his, while checking the kids for a pulse or lack thereof. He stays close to the one who's still got one.

Rochelle is virtually right behind Kitty as she moves toward Linus again, one hand dropping her black fiddle case to the nearest seat, and the other one nudging the younger woman on the arm so that she can walk in front of Kitty without completely spooking her. Rochelle passes her a glance as she effectively 'goes first', but it is just a look of passive reassurance. When she does come to a halt, Gwen's actions get a pair of raised eyebrows, despite her initial angry expression. Rochelle has no issue with stooping to grab the largest vest—but when she comes up, she is also holding Gwen's out to her. It /might/ be more charming if they were /not/ explosives, but.

Grant isn't the only one experiencing technical difficulties. Outside, a certain Ninja of the NYPD is having trouble being a ninja. Not that it matters much, really; he's out here, they're all in there. They can't really hear him or his companions moving around. They reach the car being held hostage and peek in stealthily through a few windows, determining what and where and who. Finally, Namir takes up a post at the window nearest to Linus and murmurs into his earpiece: "This is Dayan. I have a shot on one of the suspects."

Linus, meanwhile, smirks slightly, saccharinely. "Well, you could take it off, but look, see? The big lady's nice and got it for you. Now put it on." He's reaching into his pants pocket for something when there's a loud POP and the window next to him explodes — as does his brain matter. Linus falls dead to the floor, and Don barely has time to hiss out a quiet curse before he, too, is dropped. The doors to the car are soon opening and the ESU officers rush in. Most move to the crowd to assess and help the wounded, including the two fallen children.

"Everyone stay calm," Namir states as others rifle through the duffel bags. "You're all right now."

William blinks at the sound of that voice. He's still half out of it as suddenly there's one of the officers there, and likely soon a paramedic now that the situation is safe. Namir's voice is familiar though, through all the other chatter around him. «"Namir? You're here?"» He's still speaking Arabic, stuck in that language for the moment.

OH YAY. Real people, capable of taking down the bad guys. Grant is off his seat and moving towards Gwen, at a subtle limp. "Gwen," he says, reaching for her arm. "Gwen, are you okay? You okay, right?"

Cherise? She's just going to sit here with Gimmie Dat and shove him until he wakes up or is otherwise removed from the train. Q-Train ain't gonna believe this day.

"Ain't you sweet?" Kitty says and smiles as Rochelle walks in front of her. Kitty flexes her hands and waits for the women to move out of the way so that she can get her vest. All the while her gears in her head are turning, looking for a possible solution. She knows that once the vest is put on that it is all over.
Then it IS all over. As the two gunmen are shot down, she sighs in relief and runs towards William and touches his arm. "You just had to be the hero" She smiles at William, "Thanks tough guy" she winks and looks at Namir. He is a damn good shot. Well now that the adventure ended, Kitty can go back home to be with Tiger!

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