2009-12-19: Oh Canada



Date: December 19th, 2009


Tiago has decided the Terrible Twosome should move to Canada and decides to contact Tammy, from "Joint Task Force Three", to see if that can be arranged. But Tammy is a big fat stinky liarface. Naturally, things go badly.

"Oh Canada"

Meat-Packing District, NYC

Eleven o' clock at night was not the safest of times to be out and about in the meat-packing district of New York, what with hooligans, ne'er-do-wells, ruffians, scalawags, and all manner of crotchety evil-doers lurking about. But it was the time and place set for the meeting between the Brazilian male and the half-Chinese agent. Their call earlier had been brief, kept succinct as Tammy, true to her lie as a foreign agent, expressed disinterest in talking on an unsecure line, aka her lavender-colored personal cellphone. Upon learning of Tiago's possible interest in obtaining JTF-3's cooperation, Tammy had 'reluctantly' agreed to a face-to-face, then immediatly set to work after hanging up.

Now it was eleven-fifteen, and Tammy stood under the lone streetlight in the overly-dark, out-of-the-way area between a processing factory and a freezer warehouse, with a parking garage across the street. Standing in the light made everything else around her seem that much darker, thus limiting her field of vision to a fraction of what it would be if she were standing in one of the more shadowed areas. Prostitution, drugs, and muggings were common here, and even the police refused to enter the area without backup after dark. Tammy didn't seem overly concerned by any of this.

A long trenchcoat kept her form warm, but the thinly-knit gloves she had worn weren't doing the trick, as she kept rubbing her hands together, blowing hot air on them, or shoving them under her arms in an effort to keep her fingers from becoming frozen. Waiting was cold work, and she often shifted from leg-to-leg, bouncing on her toes to build body-heat, looking impatient and miserable in the weather. At least it wasn't raining. "C'mon, c'mon…"

Tiago knows these streets. He knows them intimately, a result of spending days upon days lurking around the grimy streets in order to make a living. And so he does not fear the streets, as he and his girlfriend make their way through a distant alley to the corner that had been specified over the phone. He is not scared, but boy is he nervous, and as he stalks ahead, he threads his fingers into Lena's in a show of anxiety. "Okay, baby…So, maybe y'should be hidin', when we get there, okay? Close enough ta hear, but so she can't see you. I didn't tell 'er you were comin' none, an'…well, it'll jus' be safer. If she - y'know - tries anythin' funny, y'can…take 'er out. Okay?"

It is on that note that they approach said corner. He can already see Tammy's silhouette in the streetlight. Coming to an abrupt stop, he purses his lips darkly and narrows his eyes, letting out a slow sigh. "…Y'ready?"

"Maybe…Chi, maybe we just go home and call her back later, huh?"

It stands to reason that Lena would wait to voice this suggestion until they're almost at the meeting place. Her nerves are taking the form of a gut-gnawing unease, a feeling that's only grown since Tiago told her he called the Canadian agent. Now she fidgets beside the man, bundled up her usual layers: the bodysuit, the outer layer of normal street clothes, the jacket and the gloves. But those are removed as her companion stops, and she steps up to stand beside him. She breathes out softly when Tammy's shadow is spotted.

"This is…I mean, spy business is creepy and paranoid, okay? But if she is one, she should've had another phone, or…" Glancing up at Tiago, Lena spends a moment chewing her lower lip and studying his profile. Then she too sighs, and slips one bare hand into her pocket. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready. She tries anything, I shoot her if you're not in the way, and I get there if you are. Be careful, okay?"

Exhaling sharply, Tammy continues her toe-bouncing antics to keep warm, rubbing her hands together vigorously before shoving her layers of sleeves up in order to catch a glimpse of her watch. "Should've known punctuality couldn't be expected…" Griping under her breath, the dark-haired woman begins to pace in a small, tight circle, though she comes to a sudden, complete stop after a few moments.

It's almost eerie, the way she automatically turns her head in the pair's direction as soon as they enter line-of-sight. Almost as if she could sense them the moment they had come within an appreciable distance. She squints, unable to so much as make out their forms as sensitized to the light as her eyes had become, standing under the only working illumination on the tiny side-street, though she squints in their direction regardless. Maybe she had super-powers of her own, able to sense the locations of others?

Or there's a much more plausible explanation. Tammy's demeanor immediately changes from trying to stay warm to impatient, crossing her arms with her fingers carefully tucked under them for heat, all but tapping her foot as the grumbling continues. "Before we freeze would be nice, people."

"We'll…we'll be okay, baby. We're here tagether. If this…if this works out, jus' imagine how good it'll be. We could move ta Canada, an'…there wont be none of this. We'll be free, baby. We'll be…jus' me an' you." Tiago casts his gaze over his shoulder to his girlfriend, his lips quirked in a wry sort of way - but eventually, Tammy's voice breaks out into the silence. He literally jumps up, surprise and guilt written across his features, and he shoots his eyes in Lena's direction.

Slowly, he begins to walk forward, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, yeah, chill out a second, okay?" Beat. "No pun intended. No 'ffense, but this is /real/ sketchy of you. Couldn't ya chose a place with inside heatin' or somethin'? It's like a fuckin' drug deal or somethin'."

The impossible dream that is Canada goes without comment by Lena. She's looking past Tiago's arm, studying that lone figure in its pool of light. Her eyes are narrowed, her lips held tightly. It doesn't take a psychic to see that the brunette does not like this, at all. When the young man moves forward, she murmurs, "Be careful," before pressing close against the building, staying with the shadows.

Under cover of that darkness, the pistol she'd been hiding in her pocket is withdrawn…and then slipped away again. Instead, she flexes her fingers in the cold and stares at the pair as they draw closer together.

"I'm not really in the habit of inviting strange men to my house, nor discussing such things where there's a possibility of being overheard." Tammy eyes the younger male from head to toe, as if inspecting him for obvious threats, before she raises an eyebrow. There's no humor in her expression, nor her voice. "I'm sure you're more than passingly familiar with drug deals anyway, Mister…?" She trails off leadingly, asking for a name without actually asking.

There's a small twitch in her expression, as if she heard a sound from somewhere off to the side before she lets out a small, tired sigh, able to see her breath in the pale flourescent lighting. "Besides everything about my job is sketchy. I could say the same thing about you. Did you come alone?" From her tone, it was more of a statement in the form of a question, cold and without feeling or curiousity behind it. "It doesn't matter. Before we even start discussing what I might be inclined to do for you, what have you got for me? And keep in mind that I could be at home right now in a hot bath, so make it worth my while."

"Yeah? Well…in that case, y'know that I aint one that likes ta be backstabbed. We keep everythin' cool, alrigh'? Chilled out - make this business transaction as easy as possible." Tiago demands, and though he enters the halo of light, he makes sure to leave a large gap between in and Tammy - and he /also/ makes sure that he's not in the way of Lena's shot. "An' Mister Ramirez." There's no way he's going to volunteer his name to a spy.

Luckily, he's saved from having to answer the numbers question, and he ends up pursing his lips slightly, narrowing his eyes upon the half-Asian speculatively. "Make it worth your…well. Alrigh'. Alrigh', jus' so we don't be spending all our damn time doin' this retarded dance over here. I've…heard shit. 'Bout the government. There's this new agency that no one really knows 'bout, 'roundin' up - err…possible threats. Those possible threats are US Citizens. This country is scum, an' I want out."

Left to her own devices, Lena absently rubs her hand against one thigh and tilts her head to better hear the conversation. Her gaze is a restless thing, dancing from the small woman to Tiago and then to their surroundings. No, she doesn't like this at all and her nerves are near to fraying. When the Brazilian says his piece, she does glance briefly back at the man (just to wince slightly, perhaps not as set on abandoning ship as the non-American) before her eyes go roving again. Every little sound is a threat, every flicker of the uncertain light hides boogymen.

"Mister Ramirez, then." Tammy's head inclines in acceptance of the alias. "Business is all I'm here. You and whatever associates you may have are not my concern, I assure you." Pleasant 'let's not shoot each other' platitudes out of the way, she moves a step closer, glancing around outside of the circle of light with a small frown as she lowers her voice.

"Rounding people up." Pursing her lips, narrowing her eyes speculatively, she begins with the third degree automatically, almost as if it's a reflex for her. "Anyone can 'hear' things, Mister Ramirez, what we require is proof. We need to know what agency is rounding them up, why they are doing so, what makes these people a threat, and proof that it's happening. The kind of proof that we can use to expose and embarrass the American government. I can understand your desire for extradition, but that's not an option unless you can answer the majority of those questions. And, of course, unless you have this proof in your back pocket, you'll be placed, and watched, in Toronto until your information can be validated."

Stuffing her hands into her pockets, the agent leans back, turning her expression even more solemn than before. "Because if you're putting us on in the hopes of getting a free away from your troubles, I can assure you you'll find yourself a liability to us very quickly. And that's not something you want to be. So I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask for just a little bit more before I'm willing to take a car-ride north with you. Having one pulled over on me by a hoodlum wouldn't be great for my career."

Tiago is at odds. He kept his explanation as vague as possible for a reason - and now, she is shooting him down, pinning him on the spot for more information. And though his insides are churning and he can /feel/ that something is not right, something is uneasy…he is still just a man. Barely a man, at that. He is still a barely-twenty-something year old, with the threat of government conspiracies and death and all sorts of unpleasant things that, when compounded, make him want to lock himself in a room and never come out again.

It is with a hint of desperation that he breaths out then. All he wants is the way out, and apparently, he's willing to compromise his situation to get it. "People that can…do stuff. Like…superheroes. They're roundin' them types up, I dunno why. 'Cause they think they're a threat or somethin'…an' they can be - but anyone can be a threat. Thugs have been ruinin' it for all the other people - they're still /people/. Jus'…jus' with super powers." Beat. "I know, I might sound like a freakin' psycho. But I'm not. I'm not an'…I jus' can't do this. Canada's good, y'gotta be able ta do somethin' about the agency, abou' the government. You guys /gotta/…"

"Oh shit."

The words are hardly more than a curl of fog from Lena's lips, a whisper of breath as her stomach clenches. "Don't tell her about me, don't tell her about me, don't tell her…shit." Well, at least he only told half of the story. But the brunette's anxiety has ramped up by several notches, and she stops chasing after shadows in order to pin Tammy with a sharper look. Waiting to see how the woman responds, and edging forward in her own pool of shadow as she does. Her fingers flex, relax and then curl again before her hand slips once again into the pocket that has the pistol in it.

"You mean evolved people." The explanation doesn't even cause Tammy to bat an eyelash, though her eyebrows do raise a few centimeters in obvious, if mild, surprise. "Did you think we were unaware of their existence? Many governments are, though not all of us take as harsh a stand against them as the Americans. We just might have a use for you, yet. Depending on what you can do, and what you can tell us."

Pushing up her sleeves again, she looks at her watch once more, as if time were somehow a factor in all of this. "How many of you are there? We need to know for transportation purposes. We can't exactly have a caravan of SUVs suddenly all driving north in a train like Smokey and the Bandit. But before we start shipping you off, I'm afraid I'm going to need a sample from you and anyone you wish to bring. It's just a little blood, but we really can't have any of you lying to us about whether you have abilities or not. It's for our safety, you understand."

Her purse zips open, and there's a bit of digging around inside, before she pulls out a small, cylindrical tube, silver, opaque, and about the size of an ink pen. "This'll be sent to the lab at Toronto to check for the presence of evolved DNA, just to make sure you're not going to set us on fire. Is it just you, or are you bringing others? Oh, just hold out your arm and roll up your sleeve…"

Tiago confusion flashes across Tiago's features, and he glances around, hoping to throw Lena a helpless sort of look. Luckily, he looks panicked enough to write off the glance as paranoia. Automatically, when she takes a step forward, he takes a step back, only to firm himself in his spot. "There's…none." At least, he's clever enough to know the dangers of ratting out his Team. Tiago is no snitch, after all. "None, 'cept maybe one more…I mean, there's obviously tons more in the world an' shit, but - yeah. S'jus' me an…" Beat. "I aint got no powers. If y'need ta check me, alrigh'. But I aint got no powers, so…s'it goin' ta hurt?" This is his almost boyish exclamation, ginger and sheepish, as he begins to roll up his right sleeve for the blood extraction.

When Tammy reaches into her purse and produces that object, Lena extricates the gun from her pocket and grips it in both hands. Unlike someone who has actually been trained in gun safety, she keeps her finger curled over the trigger. "Oh jesus, Tiago…" The girlfriend does not approve of him allowing anyone to poke and prod, to pierce with needles, to draw blood or inject. Even the agent's reasoning isn't enough to appease the teenager's rampant paranoia.

She shuffles forward and slides to one knee, still keeping to the gloom but drawing closer to its edge. What to do, what to do…

"Hey, bitch! Get the fuck away from him with that!"

"Uh, you're going to feel a little pinch and some pressure. It is a hypodermic." She doesn't bother with a cotton swab, as she didn't think to bring any, and if the male was dirty enough that he could get himself infected with something from a shot, then he deserved it. Tammy takes his arm in her hand after uncapping one end, revealing a thick, pointy needle, the bane of tough men everywhere. She's stopped by a shout, however, causing her to pause just shy of pricking the skin, turning with a frown.

"Friend of yours? I hope she's not holding what I think she's holding…" Of course, the dark-haired agent knew very well what Lena was pointing at her, even if she couldn't see it clearly, and this causes all sorts of alarms to go off in her head. She wasn't cut out for field work, dammit! "I suggest you tell your friend there to stand down. Things can be kept friendly if you do."

It's not long after Lena flips out that the 'abandoned alleyway begins to explode with activity, the warehouse grates rolling up, the factory's doors bursting open, and floodlights coming from the parking garage. And through it all, the sound of vehicle engines roaring to life and people shouting 'freeze'. Tammy, for her part, ignores almost all of it, keeping a hand on Tiago's arm, squeezing tightly to demand his attention. "Listen to me, Ramirez! They're only doing their jobs and protecting me. If you care about her, tell her to put the gun down. For her sake."

Tiago should have known. He should have known that it was all going to go to hell from this moment on. For the moment Lena makes her dramatic cry - they are doomed. How /can/ this go well?

Tiago flinches away from the needle, eyes flying over to the figure of Lena, the picture of Lara Croft with that firearm in hand. "God no…no, no, no," He mumbles under his breath in a faint, heart stopping panic. He can't even hear Tammy's well-controlled voice ringing in his ear, or feel her hand on his arm. And that brief moment of sensory failure is followed by another - all thanks to the sudden arrival of enemy troops, everywhere. They're surrounded.

Yeah. He should have known.

"DON'T YOU TOUCH HER. DON' YOU PUT YOUR FUCKIN' HANDS ON HER, IF YOU HURT 'ER I SWEAR IMA PULL YOUR INTESTINES OUTA YOUR EYESOCKETS, ALL OF YOU." He roars, hysteria found in his voice as he breaks free of Tammy's hold, looking to run towards the brunette, his partner in crime. His expression is faintly tortured as he glances around, taking stock of everyone around them, before lowering his eyes slowly. "Baby…put it down. Put it down, we can still be good, it can all still be okay. Jus'…put it down."

And then there was light. Light everywhere, flooding her vision and forcing Lena to scrunch her eyes shut as they're dazzled. Her chin tucks against her shoulder and she cries out from the stab of pain. Exposed, and surrounded?

Yeah, this was a great plan.

"What the fuck, Chi!" The yell is hoarse and raw with panic; she's on the verge of breaking for it, the gun's muzzle jittering up and down. Lena wants to point it at Tammy, but Tiago's too close. And there are people over there, and over there…it's impossible to watch them all. Finger tensing on the trigger, the gun aimed at the agent's feet, the brunette eases to a standing position. It's taking everything she has not to just throw the weapon down and bolt. "Get away from her…cmon…"

The first urge to run through the mind of Special Agent Tammy, in the midst of her fight or flight instincts, is most definitely in favor of the flight. She passed her yearly gun quals with decent marks, but having people swarming around with them, not to mention a crazed woman with one trained on her was far different from the range. One bullet, one small piece of concussive lead, could end it all.

There's a chance, a tiny one, that if both had bolted at the same time, and in different directions, one of them might have gotten away. An even slimmer chance existed that they might have both eluded capture, if the majority had gone after Lena and fallen victim to her power. Unfortunately, the ruse is now up, as is the hope of escape, as the officers swarm in. There's a few of Alpha Protocol's finest, though they hang mostly in the back and look more like CIA spooks. But it's the emblazoned 'NYPD' logos on the SWAT teams and the shouts of 'FBI, PUT THE WEAPON DOWN' that end all pretense that this was some underground Canadian force in New York.

Cars block off both exits out of the area, each manned by a wall of officers, while more of them creep closer in their tactical gear, guns trained on the duo. In fact, there's so many laser sights pointed on the two of them that they almost look like Christmas decorations. Tammy, meanwhile, has gone for her own pistol, pulling it out, though she holds it unthreateningly in one hand in front of her, pointed at the ground. The other hand is held up in a 'stop' sign, her feet braced apart. "Please. Listen to reason, Miss. Look at him. Look at your partner. He'll die if you shoot. The only way you're both coming away from this alive is to put down the gun. Look at him. It's over. You don't want to get him killed."

It's dashed. His hopes. His dreams, it's all ruined. He knows those calls, he is familiar with the yells of 'FBI', except the only difference is that he is not safely hidden away in some distant corner while his dealer gets busted. This time, the gun barrels are pointed in his direction. For a brief moment, fear and panic are all he knows. But, it slides away soon enough, only to be replaced by a sense of hopeless resignation. This is it. The jig is up. Everything - everything is in ruins. And he can't feel a thing. Not even the cold of the night on his skin.

"Put the gun down, Lena." He intones, emotionless, as he continues to walk forward to her. His head is tilted downwards, hiding his eyes from view. "I'm…I'm sorry, baby. I fucked up. I got us inta this…but put it down. Don't give them a reason ta kill you, baby, 'cause they will. You /can't/ die, you ca-…" Failure. He's a failure once again, a fuck up. You'd think he would have gotten used to this role by now.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Run, damnit. Run." If he doesn't run, she can't run. But it's likely that Tiago wouldn't hear that urging, since Lena's throat has closed, the words are hardly a whisper and Tammy is still talking. Someone's screaming about the FBI, which means that these aren't Alpha Protocol members, right? This is just a mix up. A nightmare, true, but…just a mix up. So, carefully, and with some difficulty, the girl eases one hand free of the pistol and uses the other to lower it to the ground.

Then as she slowly straightens up again, instead of reaching for the sky, that hand goes for her wrist and the Hello Kitty watch strapped around it. There are three buttons there just itching to be pressed. Lena's already anticipating the shots that will come, because of the movement; her arm is swept in close to her body, and her shoulders hunch protectively over the little gadget as her fingers scrabble for the buttons.

The muscles in the dark-haired agent's jaw jumps and twitches as she grinds her teeth in agitation, a habit from her childhood when nervous that she'd never managed to kick. And now her nerves were flying high on overload with the potential for catastrophe hovering so close. But as the change comes over Lena, maneuvering so that her gun was now on the ground, Tammy's stance relaxes quite a bit, going from half-sideways to a palpable sigh of relief as she straightens and begins to put her own pistol away in the shoulder-holster beneath her jacket.

As for Lena's extra-curricular movement, well, she's not flinging fireballs at people, so they don't exactly shoot. Instead the ones who had been creeping forward bullrush the couple, closing the dozen or so remaining feet to bear them to the ground. If Lena can manage to push buttons in her paniced state, with four grown men, heavily-trained in restraint techniques, on top of her, then she just might be able to pull off whatever trick she has up her sleeve. And their tactical gear would make skin contact difficult, unless she manages to go for their faces. Though with the sheer numbers of other officers closing in…

The men taking Tiago down likely have a much easier time, as he seemed more cooperative, if stronger, than Lena did. Tammy takes her time approaching, analyzing the situation, and the quartet of accompanying Alpha Protocol agents jog forward to back her and direct the police officer's efforts. Of course, they couldn't just come out and say 'be careful, they're superhuman'.

"Careful with those two, they're deranged criminals wanted for murder. Agent Halsky here will direct you where to bring them. I want whatever she was going for on her wrist." Now that the imminent crisis appeared to be dying down, Tammy had drawn her cool demeanor about herself like a palpable cloak once more, barking out orders to the men around her.

Indeed, Tiago is a defeated man. He wouldn't /have/ to have excessive force applied to him - oh, if only he didn't get a front row viewing to his girlfriend being tackled to the floor like some exceptionally tiny quarter back. If only for the moment, he is revitalized with the fire, the life within him that seems to have been extinguished. "I said don't touch her!" He growls out darkly, struggling against the agressive arms pulling back on him, using the mass of his bulk and strength to try and worm his way closer to the brunette. "Don't you fuckin' touch her, none of you! Don't you fuckin' hurt her, she put the damn gun down!" Quickly, he turns his attention toward Tammy. "You, you fuckin' bitch, you set this shit up - tha's fine, you win, but call them off! Call them fuckin' goons off of her, you already won! You already…won…"

Lena is not a fighter, it's true. There simply hasn't been enough time for her to learn any deadly ninja skills from the dvds that Gene so kindly purchased as part of their Christmas present. She is, however, a freak. And a spitter. As the brunette disappears under the bodies of four officers, there is a distinctly feminine wail of rage and fear. But it seems to be going well for those well-trained professionals until suddenly one of them adds his voice to the screaming.

The officer suddenly disengages from the pile and staggers back, gloved hands scrabbling madly at his face. Then he begins trying to tear pieces of his tactical gear from his body. "Bugs! Oh GOD, bugs, they're in my suit, get them off get them off!" he bellows, dropping to the ground and rolling around as if he were on fire.

Then another of the original four drops. No screaming, no thrashing around. He simply rolls to the ground and lays there, immobile. By then the remaining two have Lena on her belly with her hands pinned to her back, and it's harder for her to fight back. Still she screams through, kicking her legs and doing her damndest to force them to pop her arms out of their sockets. Her bare hands open and close on empty air, straining to touch bare skin. "CHI! Chi!"

"As soon as you're both restrained, Mister 'Ramirez'. And safely in cells." Tammy's dispassioned expression as she looks at the Brazilian male, or what she could see of him covered as he was by a press of male SWAT officers, had about as much feeling in it as a mortician looking at a corpse. "The less you fight, the easier this will go for all involv- Oh, there they go."

Tiago, unfortunately for him, is not a woman, and therefore the tactical police have no qualms about beating him into submission, knocking along his spine with their batons to soften him up and make him more compliant to putting in handcuffs. After all, they had all been told that these people murdered federal agents, and above all, they didn't like cop-killers. More men immediately rush to Lena, and the men she downs, some calling for paramedics for the downed officers. Lena, having taken down two of New York's finest, is then the recipient of a little of the same treatment Tiago was getting. After all, this wasn't Cops, and no cameras were around to witness this.

"That woman has a weapon!" Special Agent Lansing steps beyond the Brazilian's body pile, pointing at Lena's instead, providing a more palatable answer to the confusion of what was happening to the officers who had initially restrained her than what was likely happening. "I want a bag over her head, and her feet cuffed to her hands. Break her fingers, whatever it takes. Then get her in the back of the van. We'll search her when we get there." And during this time, one of the other agents was busy spraying neutralizing drug into Lena's face right as they're lifted off the ground and towards the vehicles, Lena being carried, hog-tied as she was, while the male was forced to walk, albeit while being brusquely shoved.

Tiago is not going to go down without a fight, not in light of the aggressive way they're being manhandled. Not in light of the desperate screams of his girlfriend. "LENA!" He calls out, reaching fruitlessly for her fallen form, only to have something within him snap. All of a sudden, he wrenches one of his arms free, and instead of reaching for the girl on the floor, he turn around with a powerful fist, intent on driving his knuckles into the jaw of one of his aggressors. It's a solid hit, gaining him some leverage, but there are simply too many of them to fight off. And before long, he is being beaten, driven to the floor himself with sharp cries of pain. Before long, he is overpowered. Before long, he is in cuffs, and one of his eyes puffy while the other remains hazy and dazed, and he has a trickle of blood escaping his nose. "L-Lena…" Disoriented, he finds that he has no idea where she is as he is being walked to god-knows-where.

There isn't much to Lena, really; average height, slight to medium build and certainly nothing resembling a healthy muscle tone. The beating is sufficient to subdue the little spitfire, even with the extra protection provided by having on a fake-leather suit beneath her heavy winter clothing. Her last shot is provided when she gets a face full of spray. Mace, her mind tells her, and her eyes scrunch shut. She screams and spits a bloody mix of drug and saliva back at the person wielding the stuff; if they get any of that on their skin, they'll be screaming about bugs and demons and flying snakes too.

It's the hood that finally ends her struggling. When it slides over her head and she's left in painful darkness, feet wrenched up to her wrists, it seems the perfect choice to fall into the twilight grey state of semi-consciousness.

So hopefully there will be no call to break her fingers, seeing that the teenager is now unresisting weight to be lugged to the van.

"Hey, gross. She spit on me…" Oh yes, Special Agent Mace-to-the-Face leans back and wipes the bloody spit-glob off of his tie with his bare hand. A half-minute later, he's one of those who are being restrained before he can complete his depantsing process, though some of those restrained inadvertently touch it, too, and… It gets bad, with a half-dozen individuals hallucinating before the duo is even gotten all the way to the van, and only four paramedics on hand to offer sedatives, so it takes some time before that situation is under control.

Tammy is three steps behind the officers escorting the duo to their designated vehicles, a safe enough distance, she supposed, in case one, or both, of them decided to explode. Just before reaching the van, though, Tiago would experience a pinching sensation in his neck as he's injected with the same substance Lena was sprayed with, just to be on the safe side.

"Put the girl in that one, the male in that one." Tammy's voice can be heard amongst the general clatter and the flashing siren lights, though their sound had been muted, leaving only a flourescent blue-and-red strobe effect. "Keep an eye on both of them, and shock the hell out of them if you see them doing anything suspicious. Lieutenant! Get your officers in your armored cars and follow us." As the officer runs off to do her bidding, one of the remaining agents, who hadn't been spit on, brings a Hello Kitty watch to the woman in charge. After inspecting it for a moment, judging it to be a child's toy, it's tossed back to the agent who had retrieved it. "Put it in a bag with her other personal effects. All right, let's head out!"

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