Starring:
Summary: Mariska takes a wounded Felix back to Kirby after all hell breaks loose in Walgreens.
Date It Happened: October 8th, 2007
You've Got Some Red On You
Midtown, NYC - Kirby Plaza Building
It's not as expansive as the hospital wing at Hartsdale. But there are floors in Kirby rigged up as a medical center, and it is right into these white chambers that a pair of figures appear with the suddenness of changelings in a fairy tale. The starter's pistol report of Misha's teleportation is enough to startle the hell out of the staff on hand….and it doesn't help that she's half-supporting, half-cradling a very bloody and barely conscious Felix. He is, amazingly enough, maintaining his deathgrip on his gun and his badge, like a toddler refusing to relinquish a particularly precious toy.
To her credit (or perhaps her shame), the only blood on Misha's clothes seems to belong to Felix. In fact, she's fit as a fiddle by all outward appearance and currently kicking up a fuss in the way that only someone who might genuinely be fearing for someone else's life is apt to do: "DOCTOR?! I NEED DOCTOR!!?"
Yeah. Gunshot sounds are never a good way to enter Kirby Plaza. People should give Misha a memo or three-hundred-thirty-seven about that.
Orion Granger appears in the doorway to the medical wing within about forty-five seconds. The tall man heard the sound, got a phone call about it, sprinted into the stairwell, and performed some serious parkour rappelling down the stairwell. Then he crashed into the hospital wing's door, stumbled into the hall, and recovered himself by the time he has arrived in the hospital wing proper.
One of Granger's hands is on the butt of his pistol while the other is coated in steel. His gaze shifts around the hospital wing like a soap opera actor trying to read his lines off of the cue cards behind common everday scenery objects. Surely there is a threat here other than Misha and Bloody Felix. Right? Right.
Claudine has been in for only a few minutes when she heard about the incident. She had been interviewing the daughter of another agent with Elle and had just arrived when she heard.
As such, she heads in right after Orion does and looks towards the injured couple. "Are..are you all okay? What needs to be done?" she asks curiously.
In the immortal words of Marcellus Wallace, Felix is pretty fuckin' far from okay. There's a clatter as the pistol and badge finally slip from his hands, just as he goes completely limp in Mariska's grip. There's blood just everywhere - no one wound seems to have hit anything vital, but there's a myriad of them. The staff hurry over. "What happened?" demands the doctor on hand.
"Jeremiah."
That single word should offer sufficient explanation as Mariska lapses into an absolut(e) Russian panic when Felix deflates in her arms. «Felix?! Felix??! Wake up!!»
Granger's head snaps toward Mariska about half-way through her single word response. He removes his hand from the gun in his overcoat, metal streaming over it as he moves toward the Russians and doctors. The tall man's brow knits together as he approaches.
"Where?"
Claudine gasps a little, as she knows that name. He's the one who does with all the cutting. She hrmms for a few moments and looks over to Orion, chewing on her bottom lip before looking back to Felix, fidgeting a bit.
Trust Fel's luck to have him end up in the hospital. Again. He's a limp bundle as the medical staff try to take him from Mariska and get him onto a gurney, trying to figure out what the worst of the wounds are.
It's a damn near party in the nurse's wing, isn't it? It's no time at all before Lawrence is there in the makeshift center too, though from an opposite hall as Orion and Claudine; no gun, because he knows that sound. Whoa, nelly. The first thing he does is edge his way into the room proper to get to Misha. It's easy enough to see and hear what happened to Felix as he is carted up by the staff- even without a name, it was obvious. "Misha." Felix is a tough cookie, so Lawrence doesn't sound too excitable when he approaches her.
Indeed. Somewhere in the fine print of Felix's job description is a caveat that binds him to at least three (3) grievous woundings per year which are to result in the following reactions from Mariska: screaming, sobbing, sighing, runny nose, itchy eyes, and/or rampant, unpredictable mood swings. What's on the grab bag agenda for tonight? With the first choice covered upon their arrival, Misha seems to be leaning now toward option four. She places the back of her bloody hand against her nostrils and watches while Felix gets carted off and only then does she realize that, hey, that Orion guy is, like, totally pulling a Piotr Rasputin. Yeah, okay, Colossus she knows. Cultural hero, okay? (…along with Omega Red, WHAT.)
Yeah. Let's call it a Piotr Rasputin, even though the metal covering his fists looks like some sort of steel gel rather than solid steel. It simplifies the imagery.
Orion stares pointedly at Mariska, his brow still knit together in tension and roiling paranoia. Granger stares at Misha, waiting semi-patiently for a response. Any sort of actual verbal response might sate his urge to kill for answers.
Claudine notices something. She isn’t a telepath, but she knows Orion well enough to know he's angry, especially since Jeremiah is one of his targets. She moves behind him and places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as she mutters softly, "You're not going alone if she does say something.." And of course that implies that she's coming along.
She then looks over towards Felix, sighing softly and takes a deep breath, chewing on her bottom lip a bit. Not quite sure what to say.
Church is silently hoping that the lattermost feeling doesn't rear its ugly head. He moves forward to put a hand on the jumper's shoulder- gently, but enough to seem urgent. "Mariska- where did this happen? Did you make a call?" Regardless, people from here need to be there now. There's a lot of dust to clear with these situations.
With a sudden jerk of her shoulders, Mariska makes it clear that she's not too keen on being comforted by touch right now. "Wall-green," she says behind a sniff. "They came into Wall-green." They. Plural. Wall-green. Singular. Perhaps a slip in translation. Perhaps not. "Of course I call," she then tacks on. Who knows where her distress signal ended up getting routed to, however. She didn't exactly have a lot of time to explain the situation.
Granger tilts his head slightly, one eye on Claudine and her hand on his shoulder. The tall man shifts his attention back toward Mariska, one eyebrow arching while his metal starts to drain back into his flesh. It looks faintly unnerving, like watching one of those Gatorade commercials with the trendy colored sweat in reverse.
"Which Walgreens?"
Finding out where CuttyMcScissorson is causes her to tense, and she squeezes Granger's shoulders a bit tighter. Claudine hrmms and purses her lips, looking towards Mariska as she starts reaching into her purse for car keys. She was suppose to bring them back, but hey, if they need to go, then they need to go.
Alright, no touching. "Was it all three of them?" If they're still together, that may be some very prudent information. Lawrence sidles to stand in front of Mariska now, hands poised at his sides; he's conflicted about that no touching thing. The older man turns his head towards Orion as the man speaks again, in his short way. "
"I don't—" The woman's clearly upset. With adrenaline reserves spent, she's now lapsing into a cloudy brain and struggling to recollect things clearly. "…maybe. Maybe two. Maybe three." Whoever had been shouting from the pharmacy seemed to be acquainted with both of the boys that Felix scuffled with, right? Or was Felix throwing down with the security guard first and then Jeremiah? She's… not sure. And now she's trying to have two and a half conversations at once. To Orion, she offers, "The one on <insert street name here>. Next to Greek restaurant." You know… where they were supposed to be having dinner tonight.
Granger tilts his head slightly as he feels Claudine gripping his shoulders tighter from behind. The tall man resists an impulse to make a witty comment, instead opting to nod at Mariska's response. He frowns now, though not at her. There is clearly something else in his head that requires frowning.
"Were they attempting to make their escape when you evacuated to here?"
Claudine just remains silent for now, waiting for the answer. She squeezes his shoulder once more and seems lost in thought.
Church just nods once, eyes roaming the hall towards where the nursing staff took Felix. He doesn't ask any other questions right now, but he does make a plan to get Misha in to see Felix once he's been properly clogged back up. If anything would settle her nerves, it's that. "Are you hurt anywhere?" Lawrence asks as a precaution; he doesn't see anything, and she looks fine, despite the stains of red on her clothes.
You've some red on you. Thank you, Shaun of the Dead. "Nyet," she says, sounding despondent. That's right, folks. All the blood she's currently accessorizing with - from hands to shirt to camel hair coat - belongs to the man they're now giving a thousand stitches to behind closed doors. She purses her lips and then points at Orion, "They already leave. Police, they come. I call Company but no one there before this…"
Granger frowns and nods. He seems to have been afraid of that. The tall man shifts out from Claudine's hand on his shoulder and mumbles something not unlike a 'Thank you, Miss Mikhailova.' as he starts making his way back toward the stairwell.
"Ivanova." Even if Orion isn't there to hearken to the correction, Mariska makes it all the same. It counts for something.
Church digs into his pocket for his phone, flipping it open and thumbing in a text message- probably to someone's computer, or a higher-up phone, with the street of the Walgreens, and that information pertinent. When that is done, Lawrence extends a guiding arm in the air behind Misha to usher her into the medical hall. "Come on, Misha. We can wait for the nurses down here- aaaahahhuh? Wait. What was that?" Already? No fanfare? How anticlimactic. Sad.