2007-08-14: DF: The World Is A Mess, and I Just Need to Rule It


Eric_icon.gif DFLaurel_icon.gif DFErin_icon.gif

Summary: A firefight on a roof, at some point before Nathan's benefit. Everyone's insane.

Dark Future Date: 14 AUGUST 2009

The World Is A Mess, and I Just Need to Rule It

Rooftop, NYC

It's dark. Humid. Despite the fact that much of New York is trashed, there's still a good amount of smog in the air, and that, combined with the heat, is creating that stereotypical New York odor. It's only drowned out by the massive bouquets of white flowers around the hall, which allow just enough fragrance into the air to kill the offensive stench while not being too horribly overpowering. This is somewhere near where the President's staying; the cameras around the area hint that the benefit won't be too much longer in coming.

And safely away from the cameras, keeping lookout on the roof of a nearby building, is one of Nathan's agents. She's wearing black - as usual - hair pulled back into a slicked ponytail, sunglasses sitting over her eyes. The dark lenses can't hide the bruise entirely, though. Starting above one eye, the black mark travels its way down one side of her nose, stopping somewhere around mid-cheek level. She won the fight to claim another for the Petrelli camp, but it wasn't without its drawbacks.

Boring, though. No one to talk to up here. At a scheduled time, she presses the button down on her walkie-talkie twice, to signal that everything's okay, there's no assassins waiting - none that she hasn't already taken care of, anyway. The roof is littered with dead birds, partially because of paranoia, and mostly because of the previously-mentioned boredom. Unfortunately, it means she's starting to feel a little drained - after all, Erin's been up here for a few hours now. She does, however, have a pistol; that'll have to do, since at the moment, the worst she could do is give someone a bad sniffle.


You know the fun part about rooftops? Its easy to get onto them if you have the right abilities. As Erin sits there on watch, there would be a soft laugh from behind her. Should she turn she would see someone in a motorcycle jacket, thick biker pants of black leather, tall black boots, gloves and a full helment with the visor down.

The figure there, leaning against the ledge of the roof. Sitting next to him is a sleek looking pistol within easy reach. The figure gives Erin a little wave towards her if she glances behind her.

"Evening," The voice is male and seemingly friendly and cheerful enough.

"…fancy meeting someone like you here." He adds after a moment. "Do me a favor though and don't radio anyone?"


She never saw him coming. Probably intentional, but as soon as she hears the voice, Erin's on her feet. She's… trying to remember if she heard anything - the scuffle of a boot on the dirty roof, the clang of footsteps on a ladder - nothing comes to mind, though. And yet, here she is, facing someone dressed as darkly as she is. He blends in.

Of course, by the time he tells her not to radio anyone, she's already reaching for said radio. She doesn't actually need to say anything… Just hold the button down long enough for someone to figure out that not all is well up here. Erin doesn't trust a damn soul, even if they do seem nice enough, it occurs to her that as her hand hovers above the radio at her hip, she should have reached for her sidearm first.

Too late.

She freezes, hand still poised. "Mm," she says quietly, dropping her hand back to her side after a few more passing seconds. "You'll want to leave." It's still quiet from the ground, a light breeze carrying the floral scent upward. "This is a resticted area."


Thats the trick about Eric. Not many people ever see him coming. Thats a good thing though. To be honest he was as suprised to see her. He was suprised to see anyone. He was just going to pop up to the roof to take a look at the comings and goings of the party. He should have known that someone else would be up here.

He slides one hand over to rest on the gun, the other one comes up to tap the side of his helment. The sphosticated piece of technology starting to scan the airwaves subtly to try to home in on the frequency that the walkie-talkie that Erin has is using. None of that shows of course, Erin just sees the blank mask nod slightly, even as he runs the scan of her face though his database.

"…well of course this is a restricted area, else you wouldn't be here now would you?"


With the roof already littered with animal corpses, Erin's about at the limit of her ability to give anyone anything particularly deadly - Rabies, SARS, Ebola. All her favourites, but none are particularly viable right now. Giving the guy a cold might slow him down a little, but adrenaline would see to it that he kept up just fine. Saving her strength, she decides that it's time to ponder other options.

Too bad for Erin that she isn't exactly what most would call 'all there.' She knows that what she's about to do is suicidal, but she just doesn't care. There's enough intelligence in her brain for her to know that as soon as she reaches for her radio - whether or not she's trying to be sneaky - she's going to piss him off.

So what does she do? Reach for the radio, holding down the transmit button so that anyone in range will get the signal - send help. Fast.


Did somebody call for help!? Fast!? Well, the closest person to give help just happens to be not the fastest person in the world. Laurel doesn't slide under doors or move at super speeds, in fact she's pretty slow most of the time, but she does hear the call. It's one of her only breaks of the day. A few hours of free time before the boring ass benifit when she'll probably be stuck standing right next to the President of the United States. Not that this is a bad thing, but really… he won't even dance with her, and she's not allowed to dance with anyone else— or even take pictures.

The last part is what she's actually doing at the moment. Freetime often means she gets to do a few things that she wants to do, and one of those things is taking pictures. The building has some nice horizon shots that allow her to get an image of the ruined city with the American flag in the foreground. But as soon as she hears the alarm, she calls in for help, and then looks for where the signal came from. The roof— she's only a few floors below that—

But she's wearing heels… oh well, she kicks them off and makes for the stairs. Help is on the way?


Ah yes. Not quite all there.

Eric gets a positive ID, and then nearly chokes. Oh god. Thankfully she waisted her time killing birds…he would not like any of those sicknesses KTHX. However as she's not going to make him six, she's…going for the radio. That was not the smartest of things to do. The gun is snatched up and a silenced shot is coughed quietly out of the barrel of the gun to try to smash the radio out of her hand.

"…that wasn't the smartest of things you've done Erin. Here I just wanted to talk…"

Of course now he reaches into his jacket and brings out a much larger bore weapon, one that isn't silenced at all. Though its still a pistol, about the size of a Desert Eagle. Scanning the channels he knows the squelch got out, he has to assume that help is on the way.

"…just was going to ask just why your working for who your working for is all…" He adds as he pushes himself off the wall.

…and should she go for her gun, she's getting shot at. Not a killing shot, something in the shoulder…but she is getting shot at.


At least she got the signal out. Silent, sure, but that just eliminates the step of having to talk into the com. Hopefully someone was paying attention - she's not going to get another chance. Eric's shot is good, and the radio breaks into something like a million pieces, little shards of plastic and metal going all over the place. And considering the fact that the radio was in her hand, Erin pulls back with a good deal of shrapnel stuck in her palm.

At least—

At least she can scare him.

She doesn't move for her weapon yet - she probably should have, but she's never liked shooting people. Giving them horrible diseases, sure, but killing seems so different when it comes via bullet. What she has left, well… Eric might start to feel ill. Just a cold, really, but colds come with things like sore throats and stuffy noses, and can be the precursor to other things, like SARS.

Then again, she's so tired, she's having trouble feeling the viruses. She can't tell if it's working or not, but she can bluff. "You're going to die now."


Without her shoes, Laurel makes her way up the stairs, double checking to make sure her call went out. They ask if the President is in danger. No, she's not with him right now, she's not sure who is calling. They'll send back up towards him— hey, send back up here too, please. They promise a few Homeland Security folks as soon as they know the area around the President is secure. Those jerkwads.

The two have a few minutes to talk while she makes her way for the roof.


Yes. She can scare him. However giving a scare to someone holding two guns and showing a willingness to use them might not be the best idea in all the world. Eric though can feel his nose start to run and his throat start to thicken. Half an ear listens to the radio chatter. One person incoming it looks like. Thats not too bad, a few moments to talk at least.

He sniffles for a moment before he just shakes his head slightly. Grin and bear it. If he dies then…well wait. HE'S NOT ALLOWED TO DIE. ELENA WOULD KILL HIM! …again. HE HASN'T BEEN MARRIED TO HER YET EITHER! CAN'T DIE BEFORE THE HONEYMOON NIGHT DAMMIT! Secure in the knowldge of his inability to die due to total romanticisim and possibile delusion.

So nope. Death not allowed.

…the gun is raised, aimed towards her. The hammer pulled back with a click. The hand is perfectly steady as well. "…you know. That didn't answer my question. Your former roomate worries about you." He says lightly.


This guy is crazy. Well… Okay, maybe not crazy, but usually this at least gets a reaction, and to that end, Erin's surprised. Thought process at the moment is sort of sluggish, the need to get away is non-existent, there's no fear, because she's not sure she remembers how to be afraid. And yet, in the back farthest reaches of her mind, Erin's aware that she doesn't want to be shot.

Sort of— looking into the sky— briefly.

Her fingers flex, there's a twitch, her head momentarily jerking to one side as if she's having some sort of tremor. This wasn't ever in the plan, but the woman's day-to-day planner is full of holes as it is, anyway. Watch the President, stay alive, take out Petrelli's enemies, stay out of detainment. Anything else is penciled in as she goes.

Alyssa. That does give her a little pause. Slowly - ever so slowly - she reaches up, hand open, to raise the sunglasses from her eyes. They're both dark - there's nothing left to give at the moment, even if there's the slightest blue metallic sheen to them. "She's okay," Erin says, still bypassing Eric's question entirely. "I didn't want to— They were watching. They're watching now."

Her temperament shifts. Dramatically. The one hand near her glasses drops to her hip, blood from the embedded plastic splattering against the ground with a few wet pops. It's painful— But they're always looking at her, all eyes on her, they know what she's doing. Her hand wraps wround her firearm, regardless of the pain.


One person on the way, and this person is hardly the type that wants to be in this situation. When Laurel reaches the top of the stairs, she catches her breath. Dressed in a long blazer of Secret Service, the communicator on her ear is the only other real indicator that she's with the government. All in all, she looks of the weaker variety. She has a side arm, but she doesn't even consider reaching for it when she opens the door, already ready to toss up a forcefield between her and whatever's on the other side. She has to see what's going on before she can do anything.

Her hair's a mess, a camera bag hangs from her shoulder, and she looks out of breath. But back up has arrived— even if back up is hardly of the variety that might be considered threatening.


Looking into the sky? What the hell is she doing. What the hell is wrong with her? He frowns behind the black faceplate. His aim tries to remain steady as he fights against a sneeze. Damn itchy nose. He twitches slightly under his diguise. Dang woman and giving her the sniffles. However the gun only wavers slightly.

At her twitch, the spasmodic motion. He has no idea what to do. Satalites? Ghosts? Angels? What in the world is up there and has got her just so worked up like that. Now he has some other kind of little mystery to bother with dosen't he?

"…who is watching?" He asks urgently. Knowing that whatever it is she's about to snap. She dosn't look all there. She looks…strung out. What is wrong with her eyes? His head twitches in what could be a nod though at the statement of she's ok.

As her hand drops to her gun though he blinks. Wrong answer. His hand tightens on the trigger of the smaller of the two pistols, sending a single bullet towards her shoulder. The door to the stairs bang open then and his head jerks around, the targeting systems on his helment IDing Laurel as he snarls and dives behind a AC unit for cover as he lets loose with a burst of fire towards the new opponent, not well aimed though, just to keep her head down.


She can feel the viruses, weakly, but they're there. She knows where they are, reaching through the air between them, caught and destroying the cells that she's only egun to convert. There's not much else she can do.

A few shards of plastic come loose from her palm and fall to the rooftop under her feet as the hand wraps around the firearm. She barely has time to pull it from the holster, though, before —

It's not pain, really. It's more a feeling of standing one second, then being flat on her back the next, with no real recollection as to why. Erin can hear someone screaming, realises a moment later that it's her. The sound is angry, frustrated, and that's when the sting of having a bullet rip through her shoulder catches up with her. Notably, it's the first time Erin's actually been shot. Hurt, yes. Beaten? A little. They thought she was human, after all, at least at first. She's got a huge bruise around her eye, but this…? Doesn't compare to any of that. Looking over her shoulder as the dark blood begins to appear from under the sleeve of her shirt, she basically screams, "Laurel, he SHOT ME."

Well, duh.

And let's not forget, she still has her own firearm. Her right hand and arm are both out of commission, though, so she picks it up in her left, and fires in Eric's direction.


The funny thing about Laurel. She screams like a girl. It's really embarassing for a Secret Service agent to do this, but she was hired not for her powerful nature, or her handling of a firearm, but for what intercepts all the bullets as she ducks down and covers her head with her arms. That doesn't help her out too much, really, the forcefield that intercepted the bullets has a lot more to do with why she's perfectly fine than her arms going up over her head.

The wall isn't seen at all, but the bullets bouncing off is.

The woman who gave her rabies has been shot! Two forcefields at once actually isn't a problem for her anymore. Once in the past it had been, but she looks up enough to catch the eye of the former soap opera star, and then she too gets a rather large forcefield tossed around her. It won't stop most abilities, but it will stop bullets. Unfortunately it will also stop her bullets too. Uh— oops. "Wait!" is all she can manage to get out in a warning. The bouncing bullet might not hit her, but it definitely won't hit the target now.


He made a Secret Service Agent scream like a little girl. Oh me oh my, we gonna be playin that one at Christmas this year! On replay! Eric though dosn't have time to appriciate it, because not Erin is shooting at him as well. He drops down, not knowing that…well…there is a forcefield up…and keeps under cover at the Agent's gun rattles off a series of shots.

One clip is ejected as he grumbles slightly, and then replaced with a second one, one having a clue ring around the end of it. He pops up for just a second…records a snap shot of Miss OHGODDON'TSHOOTME there, and then fires off a short burst towards the door of the guilding, intending to shread it and perhaps send some shrapnel Laurel's way. Unless the shield is all around her.

…damn. She's as bad as Trina is.


Two, three— Three times she fires before she realises that the bullets are ricocheting off Laurel's shield. Uncharacteristic for Erin, there's a moment of fear as two of the bullets bury themselves in the ground next to her, one on either side…

The third just skims across the shoulder that's already been shot before doing the same. This is a classic example of didging a bullet, except for the fact that said bullet was her own. "Warning, next time!" she calls, dropping the weapon now that she doesn't have to defend herself, and then… Also dropping herself to the ground on one side. Her free hand now goes to her shot shoulder, and she grimaces, emitting a pained syllable as her eyes squeeze shut. Is she … Crying? Why, yes! Yes she is! Because people do that when they've been MAULED BY BULLETS. There might also be swearing. A bit.

By now, there's a good little puddle of red starting to spread across the rooftop. Erin's starting to really panic, because - again - she's never been shot. Ironically enough, this gives her a bit of clarity in the form of what the HELL am I DOING? but there's no time to think about that. Actually, there is, but she's kind of hyperventilating.


"I'm sorry!" Laurel cries out. The forcefield is indeed all around her by the way the scrapnel hits her, and it's all around Erin too. There's no bridge between them, no way to get to her, and all she can really do is try to look across to the other rooftop where it's coming from. "Um, guys! There's gun fire! Someone get down here please! Helicopters or something!" It's really upsetting her. "And McCarty's been shot! I need someone down here for her please!" She sounds so panicked, yet tries to remain polite. But her voice is squeaky, and it's going to stay that way.

She makes no move to reach for a side arm and fire back, and just consentrates on the forcefields. They weren't supposed to bounce back like that!

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry! You said you were shot and I just— wanted to keep it from happening more! Why are they shooting at us!?" Like she doesn't understand why anyone would want to do that, just because they're protecting the President. They elected him!


Eric was too dead to vote at the time.

However right now he realises that if he dosn't leave he will be dead. The com is lightly up like a christmas tree, and the big burst fireing pistol sounds like a series of thunderbolts when it goes off. Forcefields protect him, but he winces slightly when the rebound gets Erin…again…

He didn't really want to shoot her, it was reflex when she went for her gun though. He feels mildly apologetic about it and as he crouches there. At Laurel's question and whine he rolls his eyes. He almost answers her…but no. They might be able to get something on his voice. He dosn't want that.

He wasn't even coming here to fight today!

"Later ladies," He murmurs as he closes his eyes, and just seems to fade away into the darkness.

…and all falls quiet again. Not even shell casings left to remember him by.

However, just as he dissipears, he pauses a moment and whispers sending it though the shadows to carry it towards Erin's ears. Just a little message for her ears only.


Something just seems wrong. "He was trying to get to the President. I called for backup," she says. Very direct, very clearly. "Just appeared out of nowhere." That would normally be a mystery, except for the fact that most of the people here can put two and two together to get four, and that makes this guy evolved. No one can just appear like that - except ninjas.

Blue eyes that are far too bright for such darkness rest on Eric as she gives the hand embedded with sharp plastic a good shake. It succeeds at dislodging some of the shards, but it also hurts like hell, and that juuuust about takes away any desire to keep moving. Curling up, one hand on her shoulder while the injured one lies helplessly on the ground, Erin grits her teeth and waits for it to be over.

There's a voice; but when she looks up, Eric's gone.

This wasn't in the brochure. But they're watching — they must be satisfied, right? She tried. Failed. Oh, god. She's failing all over the place. "Wait…!" she mutters, but she's really not in the mood to go chasing after shadows. It seems crazy enough that she's just heard… something. But what's not crazy nowadays? "Aah— ah, God. Ow. He shot me." This repeats, over and over, in various orders and iterations, as she tries to stop the blood.


Not willing to chance the man opening fire on them again, Laurel puts up a third forcefield. The biggest one she can manage, and covers a large portion of the roof itself. It causes her nose to bleed, but she can drop the other two as soon as it's up, which allows her to run over to Erin. "I'm really sorry— I— the medics will be here soon, I left the field off the door to the roof…" And if they send a helicopter she can take the big field down, but most likely they'll send someone up the stairs first.

Laying down her camera, she looks over to where the man disappeared to, and starts to pull at her coat to try and make some kind of bandage. But you know what? She still sucks at field medicine. "He was threatening the President? Are you sure? The President's somewhere else entirely— he— I'll call down, they'll extend the guard." She touches the earpiece and does that just, requesting an increase in the guards. But— most likely what will happen is the Agency will pop out a couple extra dittos to deal with it. That's usually what happens. "


Is she sure? Erin tries to remember. It's kind of foggy, though, like she remembers the details in a different order than she's supposed to. There was gunfire. But was that before or after she was shot? Erin's sure she's thinking clearly, but she honestly can't remember. Maybe it's the blood loss, probably. Probably. "He is?" Erin asks. She's confused, like she didn't know. Maybe she didn't.

This is weirding her out.

She gives Laurel a gentle shove, pushing herself up so she can sit. It hurts, but it's a damned shot to the shoulder. She'll live, even if she's shaking like a leaf at the moment. Is this what she's going to have to deal with? For the rest of her life? Forever? It keeps her out of detainment.

She takes a couple shakey breaths, looking at her hand. It's lacerated, it might need some stitches, but it's not awful. It just… hurts.

"No. He wasn't." Another moment of clarity. Erin looks at Laurel, eyes narrowed, completely dark - the light in them is out. Though her hand's bloody, she's reaching for Laurel's sleeve anyway, while she's still having the thought; waiting until the other woman is done transmiting, Erin says, "I think he just wanted to talk."


"Talk with bullets?" Laurel has to ask, squinting across the way towards the other building. And people wonder why they're afraid to do anything where they might meet people like that! She hasn't killed anyone just because she's startled. They're just mean. Like Daphne with her cobras falling from trees. "I'm really sorry," she repeats again as she's pushed away. This will make her leave her alone, but it doesn't make it easy. She touches the headset again and says, "Just— tighten the security a little, not a red alert anymore. I think that the threat has passed." That she can do professionally, but…

"Stop trying to get up. The medics are on the way. You might bleed a lot or something." And bleeding a lot is bad.


Options. What is she doing here? Isn't this the right thing? Of course it is. She's just a little shaken, and once she's had time to rest, it'll pass. This is what she has to do - this is for everyone's good. This is essential. The work she's doing is important. It's protecting the man who will save them all. The clarity vanishes - if that was clarity. Maybe that was the crazy. It must have been, because no one in their right mind would even think for a moment that something… was… wrong?

Erin shakes her head.

"Y— yeah, I'm just going to…" She's not about to pass out, but she is weak. There are a lot of dead things hanging around out the roof, after all. After doing a sweep to make sure that ebola isn't hanging around anywhere, Erin lets go of Laurel and slouches, letting her eyes close. They're watching her again. She has to be stoic and still, so they can report that back to the President.

Status quo achieved.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License