2007-03-28: We Come In Peace Shoot To Kill


Bekah_icon.gif Lee_icon.gif Samantha_icon.gif Yael_icon.gif Jack_icon.gif Jane_icon.gif Tamara_icon.gif Randall_icon.gif

Summary: It's a typical night in NYC as someone gets stabbed in the park. The cannibalism and the black acidic vomit? Not so much the typical.

Date It Happened: March 28, 2007

We Come In Peace, Shoot To Kill

Central Park

Tucked deeply into the thicker, woodsy back end of Central Park seems to be a little bit of a gathering, as spots like this are quite popular with the wandering riff raff which litters the street in the afternoon, begging for change. With the sun having ducked down into the sky hours ago, the moon has been granted permission to stretch her pale ambiance along the beautiful, star-littered heavens.

Far away from the busy streets, honking horns, and the ebb and flow of the crowded sidewalks, a group of four hobos are settled in front of a metal garbage can set ablaze, trying to keep themselves warm as they sit in silence, cracking one can of beer open after the other, and drinking the contents down as if they were thirsty fish, competing for the last drop of the ocean. The thick odor of unwashed bodies, booze, and something a bit putrid fills the air as the degenerates mumble back, and forth to each other, taking bites out of what appears to be an order of messy, sloppy joes.

"…mmfff.. not bad.. not bad at all." Crows one with raven black hair, stringy and greasy as it hangs just past his shoulders in a choppy, corroded manner.

"ve' 'ad better, but, meat-is-meat." Another whispers in a graveled voice. This particular bum has a face full of gray, and a head lacking of any fuzz. It seems he has seen his share of the road, and years gone by.

Jane has arrived.

Bekah is walking into the park at Samantha's side. The two of them are laughing together, in light conversation. The two doctors were out to dinner, but even with the food gone the night is still young. "Have you met Lee yet, Sam?" She asks glancing around for said man. "I think you'll like him. Or this will be a long enough night." Bekah is dressed fairly nicely in a black skirt and a soft green sweater.

"Nope, just like I told you. I mine wasn't stuck at the hospital, we could have made this a cutesy double date. After the sock hop we could have gone to the corner five and dime and had ice cream sodas and cheeseburgers." Sam can't help grinning as she teases Bekah. She's in a similar sort of 'going out' outfit.

"So like I was sayin'," Jack gestures dramatically with both hands as he speaks, head leaned companionably close to Yael's. "Poker's an underappreciated art form now that it's been taken over by pimple-faced teenagers typin' on their laptops. You play your hand, sure, but more than anything you play the person across from you. It ain't the same if you can't look your opponent in the eye, says I." Having found a few hours away from both Eliana and the Den, Jack was quick to call up his new, klutzy friend and wrangle another evening of dancing out of her. He's wearing a smart, black-on-black suit with a collarless shirt, a narrow-brimmed hat, and well-shined shoes.

Lee is hanging around one of the gazebos waiting for the two young doctors, he does look a /bit/ nervous, in case something horrible is about to happen to him, but as they draw nearer, he waves to them. "Hey. Hi Bekah…" He smiles to her, then nods to Samantha, offers a handshake: "I'm Lee, you must be Samantha. Bekah mentioned you before, great to meet you."
GAME: Save complete.

"I still think that most of poker is luck," Yael replies defiantly, though her tone is mostly teasing. She walks alongside Jack, taking great care to watch where she places her steps so as not to trip and fall. So far, so good, despite the kitten heels on her feet that might compromise her balance. Her hands are tucked into the pockets of her black coat, worn over an airy beige skirt and a deep red shirt, with an off-white scarf looped around her neck. "But you're right that it loses something on the computer. I have terrible luck, but I could probably out-bluff you." She reaches out with an elbow, jabbing at his side playfully.

Standing in the shadows, beneath the budding canopy of one of the park's trees, Tamara waits. Head canted a touch, her eyes dark, she watches the little gathering in silence. Her gaze flicks to the two women as they enter, but it isn't until Jack shows up that she steps out of the shadows. She doesn't offer a greeting, just settles in to walk alongside him, opposite Yael, glancing only briefly to them. "Are you watching?" she says softly.

She'd come here after hosting Desiree at her apartment earlier, having bought a plastic megaphone and another, electronic, model along the way, perhaps choosing the cover of night to perform an experiment or two in vocal ability with no one around and not needing to leave the city. Jane's got the guitar and backpack as usual, her clothing lighter than it has been until recently with the increase of warmer weather. It's a light jacket now over a Hard Rock Cafe sweatshirt. Her path, unknown to her, aims toward wherever persons might intersect.

Samantha shakes Lee's hand. "And Bekah's mentioned you." she says agreeably in turn. "Hope you're treating her right. Doctors know what hurts." Bekah's probably delivered a similar bit of patter to Namir. That's how they roll. "I understand you're a teacher? Where do you teach?" The beginneth the interrogation as they walk.

As the four hobos huddle near the fire, the roaring flame flickers in bright, rising embers, casting shadows along the tattered visages. If any was to glance their way, they could see the wrinkles set in their eyes, an dirt caked upon their tired, and worn flesh. As the group of arriving individuals soon approach the area, they begin to quiet down, almost into an eerie silence as they continue to eat.

".. Hrrrm…" Murmurs the third, who hasn't said much the entire night, until now. "Kinda chewy. How'd you get it so tender?" He asks, casting a look over to the fourth, who is a potbellied ragamuffin with hair jutting out in all directions, torn pants, and a shirt that is too small, and too tight to contain his girth. With a split of his lips, his yellowed, cracked teeth is stained with sloppy joes. He mutters quietly,

".. The secret is in the sauce…Eeh heh heh." After popping another tab off his can of beer, which displays a bright, brilliant crown logo wrapped around the letters M-P, he takes another throaty swallow as the golden liquid drools down the sides of his chin, down to the dirty gray shirt.

"Lookie, lookie.." The black haired man says as he tilts his head to one side, leaning backwards to place one hand on the ground, squinting his eyes to the chatty girls who stroll near by. ".. they smell like flowers, waiting to be picked."
Bekah's smile widens as she sees Lee. "Hey. I was glad to get your call." She says before she shakes her head over to Samantha. "Hey, it's not my fault your boyfriend got shot." She says this teasingly, so the man must not be too bad off. Then she's rolling her eyes. "Feel free to tell Sam to shut up when you're tired of getting the third degree."

It's been a long time since Jack has been surprised by Tamara's odd comings and goings, or her unusual way of phrasing things. Where some people might shy away from the approach of a strange teenager, the Irishman just grins crookedly and bobs her a nod by way of greeting. "C'mon, short stack. By now you should know that I'm always watchin'." With a jerk of his head, he indicates Yael. "Tamara, this is Cohen. Cohen, this is Tamara. She's a good lass, even if she's a might tough to understand sometimes."

Lee informs Samantha, "John Philip Sousa Junior High. It's in the armpit of the Bronx. Only good thing about it is that it's close to a subway station." He grins back at Bekah. "Noted. And I'm glad you picked up, and nobody's set me on fire yet tonight. How are things at the hospital? Plenty of blood and guts?"

"What do you teach?" Samantha wrinkles her nose at Bekah but informs Lee, "She does have a point. I'm exceedingly nosy. Where do you two want to go for drinks?" Since Lee's asking Bekah, she doesn't offer her opinion of the blood and guts levels over at Mount Sinai. Presumably, the trio now walk along at a leisurely pace.

Yael, on the other hand, has never before met Tamara, and the girl's approach takes her by surprise. It's enough that she very nearly trips over her feet, and she grabs Jack's arm to steady herself briefly. When she's regained her balance, she clears her throat in that oh-so-smooth, 'no one noticed that' kind of way. Still, when Jack introduces her, she ducks her head with a swift smile, offering her hand should the girl want to shake it. "It's Yael Cohen, actually," she corrects, her accent plainly obvious tonight, though her tone is still amused. "Nice to meet you."

Tamara shifts her gaze to Jack, blinking slowly. "It's dark," she states. "Dark and darker still." Unlike most of the times they've met, the girl doesn't even attempt a small smile. Instead, she looks back down the path, towards the other trio walking along. Sorry, Yael - she's preoccupied. "Metal. Rust," Tamara murmurs. "Watch out!" Not speaking to Jack or Yael, now, but calling to Bekah, Sam, and Lee.

She's not hurrying, but also not walking slowly. The heels of Jane's boots, which raise her height to nearly five feet ten inches, tap as she moves along the concrete pathway, eyes scanning up ahead for suitable places to try her experiments. People are spotted, a bit too distant yet for identifying people she knows among them, but close enough to be recognized as human. Things to come are being mulled over within her head, and how best to be of assistance when or if the time comes. A female voice calling out draws her attention to finding the source and watching what's happening ahead of her more closely.
By now, the portly bum has risen to his feet, and wandered out into the woods to take a leak that he's been holding for the last eight hours. Somewhere in the distance, a lonely tree is silently screaming for help as he finds her lovely bark marred. The other three hobos, who continues to hang out near the glowing, and flaming garbage can, continues to eat their sloppy joes, scooping up the wet, saucy meat sandwiches between grubby, dirty fingers, and stuffing it into their mouths.

When Tamara lets out her warning shout, the three doesn't seem too bothered by it. It's New York after all, someone is always yelling something, or another. Muggings in the park has been frequent, despite heroic efforts by both the police, and masked vigilantes that patrol on the weekends that don't interrupt their school nights.

"Whatcha think she's hollering at?" The bald, grizzled man asks the blonde as he reaches for another can of beer, cracking it open with a loud hiss. Sniffing the top of it, he squints his eyes for a moment, shrugs his broad shoulders, then tilts it back to take another drink. "Don't know where Johnson found this crap. It tastes like warm, liquid shit."

"Ah-ha-ha.. yer' tha' only one here who'd know what that'd taste like, ya' big dumb fuck."

The trio once more begins to cackle as the black haired man reaches to the side, lobbing a dry, gnarled branch into the fire, causing it to spark a bit as ash flies up into the sky, then blinks out of sight as the embers die.

Lee replies, "Civics. It's not really my field, but I got a certificate and at the time I needed a job in a hurr…" He looks around at Tamara's shout, "…in a hurry? Did two you hear that? It sounded…sort of familiar."

Bekah gives Lee a grin. "Yet, at least. The night is still young. There might yet be flames in your future." She jokes dryly before she shrugs. "There's always plenty of blood and guts. The administrative stuff has been annoying though with the investigation going on. How are the little hoodlums?" She asks before she turns to look back at the voice. "I heard something."

Samantha takes a token look around and shrugs. "It's probably nothing." she says. "People are always yelling in Central Park." It's not like Sam carries a gun or anything. Maybe she should start. "Let's get a move on, shall we?"

As cryptic as Tamara's warning is, Jack's learned that her recommendations aren't to be taken lightly. His brow creases, and he grabs Yael by her upper arm, gently urging her to slow her stride. With his other hand, he presses lightly against his suit coat to reassure himself that his sidearm is present and accounted for. "Err.. I don't suppose you'd care to be a little more specific?" he asks the teen hopefully, his grey eyes now wide and wary.

Fixing Tamara with a perplexed look, Yael blinks a few times, tucking her hand back into her pocket. She's prepared to just write off the girl's strange ramblings (in her head she's thinking 'acid trip,' but she doesn't say it out loud) - until Jack grabs her arm. "Ow! What are you doing?" There isn't much conviction behind it. She slows, as he wanted her to, and turns her attention back to Tamara. Her ruling emotion is confusion, however, rather than concern. "What's going on?"

The warning passes unregarded by its targets - but it doesn't really faze Tamara. That was always a possibility, after all. She just sighs slightly, and slows as Jack does. Her feet take her away from the path, though, off to one side, as if walking the edge of a circle whose center is with the group ahead. But the girl looks past them, into the darkness. "Hands in the darkness. Reaching, touching, grasping. Feeling. Black. Black in the shadows, black in the starlight. It's hungry. Tastes of steel - tastes blood." That's apparently as specific as she can get right now.

While the trio closest to her slows, she doesn't. Jane's coming up behind them a bit faster now, her steps a bit quicker as she now wants to get her business in the park over with and get home. Bad things are afoot in the world, and Central Park at night isn't always the best place for a lone woman to be, after all. "I knew this was a bad idea, should've waited until tomorrow and gone somewhere out of town during the day to test things." The words are muttered under her breath. Whether or not she still chooses to continue her original plan, being around other people has become a Very Good Idea to her now.

Randall has arrived.

Lee says, "That voice, it…big-time deja vu. Sorry." A quick, sharp glance at nearby bushes, clearly the 'watch out' spooked him a little. Whatever deja vu moment he has was pretty significant. He and Bekah and Samantha get moving again. "Yeah, I heard about that investigation. Bizarre, someone impersonates a doctor /and/ administers something weird? Lotta cuckoos in this town."

The three bums continue to chat amongst themselves, with 'Charlie', going into great deal about his stint in the Vietnam. He talks about a friend of his, who was splattered across the jungle trees by a land mine that he stepped on, and how he won't ever forget that moment. It wouldn't be so bad, if he wasn't going into the gory, details. "Man, Chuck. That's a real.. um… interesting.. story. I wouldn't tell ya grand kids that one." With another chuckle rippling through the group, a question is posed.

"Where's Porkster at? Either he's taking the world's biggest shit, or he fell asleep out in the woods 'gain. Whatever, more joes for me." And with that, another sandwich is stuffed into the bald one's mouth, squirting out a stream of red sauce. "Don't know what that secret is he's talking 'bout, but this isn't that good."

The rustle that Lee must have heard was probably the wind, or a dog, or maybe even a squirrel. Unfortunately for Samantha though, she finds herself yanked off her feet as they pass by a small grove of trees where the path strays to close to the thick foliage. A large, dirty, and sloppy joe stained hand grasps her around the throat, followed by a low, hungry chortle.

".. Yes.. yes.. how sweet, fresh meat. You will tempt my tummy with the taste of your honey, eeeeh-heh-heh." The thick, rancid breath of the pot bellied bum practically coughs into the girl's face, as moonlight glints off what appears to be a very large, glass shard, covered in blood.

"To be honest I have no idea why the hospital's publicity department went public. A bottle of morphine gets stolen, that's really not news." Samantha says conversationally. "There's a huge difference between a single bottle of morphine and an entire pharma - " Samantha doesn't get to complete the sentence, as suddenly she's jerked back toward the bushes by her hair, the slovenly, overweight man having somehow managed to pull a hippos-in-Fantasia act, treading ever so lightly that she doesn't hear him. There's a surprised shriek, as Samantha attempts to writhe and twist and either get free or otherwise face her attacker. Fortunately, he does the job for her. Sam's lips curl in a grimace, mouth opening as a sound emerges from the back of her throat - something akin to white noise or static, a special little song just for her attacker.

Bekah nods her head at Samantha's statement. But then her friend is yanked off the path and Bekah lets out a little screech in shock. Her next move isn't to go after Sam, though, but to pull her cell phone from the side of her purse. "Shit. 911 time." She mutters, dialing the numbers.

"Of course, that makes perfect sense," Shaking his head, Jack releases Yael's arm. "Sorry. As strange as this girl may be, she's got spot-on intuition. When she starts spoutin' off ominous stuff like that, it makes me bloody nervous. Not to mention, we /are/ in Central Park in the middle of the night. Let's move along, yes? Tammy, you should probably come with us." Ever the shepherd of young, wayward Evolved, Jack would've quietly hustled Yael off by now if it weren't for that pesky moral fortitude of his. Stupid reluctance to leave children unattended in potentially dangerous situations..

Then it happens. A fat homeless man jumps out of the woods like a smelly, demented jack-in-the-box. People scream. Jack sighs. "This is gonna be a long night," he mutters. "Cohen, stay here and keep an eye on the kid, willya? I've gotta go do something recklessly altruistic." With a wink, he takes off toward the scuffle at a flat run.

Lee leaps with alarm, "Jesus! Hey, asshole! Let her go, come on!" He does a pump-fake of his shoulders towards the guy, a spastic sort of schoolyard - or jailyard, they're really the same thing - fake-lunge to try to get him to bring the bottle away from Samantha. The fact is, he is, as far as he knows, absolutely terrible in a fight, so the bluff is just that, a bluff, a very dangerous one on his part…

Torn between an insatiable curiosity and the sinking feeling that this is about to become a very bad situation, Yael looks between Tamara and Jack for the short time she has before he jets off, wanting to make sense of the situation but more so wanting to just… get the hell out of dodge. The scream sends a chill traipsing down her spine, stopping her mid-baby-step to follow after Jack. Her eyes track Jack as he goes racing for the altercation; she's unwilling to look away, but she still tears her eyes away for a swift glance to Tamara. "Whatever you've both been smoking tonight," she says beneath her breath, "I don't think I want any."

Randall walks in on more or less the tail end of all this, barely within squinting distance when Samantha gets grabbed. He winces as the scream washes over his position, then shakes his head, trying to recover his wits. Physical altercations are not his area of expertise either, but… look, those two are already running in, and one more warm body should make for even better odds, right? And so he runs forward as well, tailing several steps behind Lee.

All of Jack's well-intentioned directions just sorta slide off Tamara. As he speaks, it's pretty clear she's not leaving anytime soon. Her gaze flicks to Yael as Jack bolts off ahead, and she offers the woman a faint quirk of a smile. "He's not wrong. You /should/ go. Back." That's her advice, anyway. A glance is given to Jane coming up behind. "Sometimes the right place /isn't/ the best. Just right." For her part, the girl just keeps walking, her pace picking up only slightly, course shifting to a straighter line. She's not running to assist directly, though - just closing the distance so anything she does need to say after this point /will/ be heard.

Crap. Trouble ahead. Jane quickens further, seeing the woman dragged into the bushes and not hearing Sam's counterattack, with the voices she now recognizes as Jack's from the suddenly sprinting, and the clumsy one who gave her the opening to talk with Eliana from Yael reaching her ears. Now the confusing teenager she met some time ago is speaking to her? She calls out "Hey, let Jack handle things, yes? Stop that girl, will you, before she gets hurt!" She's hoping to reach the two before they get much closer and keep an eye on the situation, to see if assistance is actually needed and how best to give it before trying anything. The plastic megaphone, however, is held ready to use. For whatever.

As the portly fellow gives Samantha another good tug backwards into the thick bushes, looking to drag her off the path, Lee's posturing does nothing for his demeanor as the heavy breathing, obese man lets out a loud, gurgling chortle as he looks to slam her backwards against a tree. With the shard of glass raised upwards, he looks to strike it deep into her stomach, but the shriek of the siren causes him to wince, and grit his teeth as he suddenly feels shaky on his feet. Thick, black goo begins to dribble down the corners of his mouth for a moment, before the disorientation begins to unsettle his stomach. He stumbles forward, his weight falling into Samantha's, then belches out a throat full of bloody, chunky puke into her shirt, followed by a swing of his arm in a clumsy manner. The blade of his glass shard cuts into her side, widely missing his intended mark, but finds flesh, and blood well enough. ".. ganna eatcha! I'm going to suck the meat from your bones!" He bellows out in a drunken manner as he practically swerves to the right, releasing his hold on her for a moment as he clutches a hand to his ears.

From the distance, the other three bums who hear the chaos going on stop their sandwich munching, then starts to look around at each other in confusing. ".. Ya'think that's Petey?" One asks, before squinting their eyes in the darkness, hollering out. "PETEY! YA'OK OUT DERE?!"

"What tha' hell is going on out there? We should get going. I ain't gonna get arrested again. I got weed on me." The bald guy hefts himself up, and takes off into the woods, hurrying as he drags a large, multicolored blanket along behind him.

As if undecided, and finally coming to the conclusion they barely 'know' Petey, having only met him a few hours ago, the other two hobos decide to pack up, and leave as well, scuttling off in opposite directions, and abandoning their make shift campfire still burning, and glowing in the metal garbage can.

Those approaching the scene, sees what appears to be an obese man in a dirty, too tight shirt with a hairy belly sticking out from beneath it, fitted with gym shorts that are too big, grappling with Samantha, though with her shrieking power, he seems to be disoriented, and caught off guard, despite his lucky strike with his blade. His clothing is covered in dirt, sweat stains, and what may appear to be old, dried blood.

Samantha lets out a grunt as they fall back against the tree, and immediately starts thrashing like a wildcat, until the pain catches up with her brain to tell her definitively: You've been sliced. The shriek cuts off abruptly, changed to a more normal cry of pain, and clutching at the wound - her hand getting with her own blood, she desperately tries to run-limp away. "Help! Heeeeeeeeelp!" Don't worry, New Yokers. Sam isn't expecting much. Because it is, you know, New York. "Haaaaalp!" The puke-goo on her shirt, she'll worry about later. Some calm portion in the back of her brain wonders if Sachs Fifth Ave will take it back if she can find the reciept. If she can make it back onto the path, she'll be okay.

Bekah leaves it to the men to take care of the homeless guy. She's heading towards Sam. It's a good thing she keeps that handy pair of gloves in her bag, because she doesn't want to be touching anything that guy puked up. When she catches up with the other woman she has a fairly calm voice, even if that is totatlly fake. "Sam. It's Bekah. Let me help. I can make it vanish if you want."

It's not until Jack is within a handful of feet that he assimilates a handful of very important facts. First and foremost, that Samantha's already been stabbed. Second, that one of the men currently attempting to assist her is none other than Lee, whom he once punched in the genitals. Third, that getting involved in this fiasco is nothing short of idiotic. Shaking his head ruefully, he snatches a smooth, black automatic pistol from under his coat and clicks the selector down to single fire. "C'mon, man. Why don't you let the lady go so's we can—shit!" Jack has seen this before. The bloody vomit, the black ooze, the insanity. He knows firsthand how dangerous it is. Grimly, he draws a bead on the bum's head and fires off a quick double-tap.

Lee goes in instinctively to pull the guy off of Samantha, without thinking about it, but everything happens too fast and he's left just standing there as the gun goes off right next to his ear. "Christ Almighty, what the…you! What the fuck, who gave /you/ a gun?"

This is not what Yael had in mind when she was placed in charge of guarding Tamara. At first, when the girl starts to follow Jack, Yael thinks she might be able to dissuade her by calling out haltingly, "Tamara! Stop!" It doesn't work. Neither does staring at the girl's back and willing her to stop with her mind, for the record. Drawing in a deep breath, Yael takes a few steps after Tamara, then stops again, a frown settled deep onto her brow. It takes her a few more seconds before she can resume her pace, and she has to jog just to catch up to Tamara. All the while, her heart is racing in the most unpleasant way, and something in the pit of her stomach has her feeling not unlike she might lose her dinner. "TAMARA!" Whoops. She calls the name out louder, but her voice is wavering anxiously. When she gets near enough, she reaches out to grab for Tamara's arm and pull her back.

There's the instinct to do the right thing, and then there's the instinct that you're hopelessly beyond your depth. Between the close-up (well, closer) gander at the bum's dual assault against Samantha, and the sight and sound of Jack's firearm, Randall winces and hits the dirt, landing on one shoulder and looking up. If and when the ammo runs out, then he'll consider getting up again.

No, calling after Tamara doesn't do much to change her intentions. However, when she gets to a distance she likes, she abandons the straight course and returns to circling. Slowly, which means it isn't any challenge for Yael to catch up to her. But when the woman grabs for her, the girl just slides… out of the way, Yael's fingers closing on empty air just shy of Tamara's arm. Other than dodging automatically, Tamara pays the grab no heed - her dark gaze remains fixed on the knot of people ahead.

Still trying to catch the two closest to her, and having no success getting them to hang back, Jane keeps going forward. The gunshots make her head whip toward Jack and spot him with the weapon. She freezes in place and watches to see what develops, her eyes looking for the woman who was attacked when this all started. She lowers to one knee and hopefully keeps out of the path of any returning fire that might come. "Get down!" she calls out sharply to the still advancing Yael and Tamara. "Get down get down!"

Samantha has been subject to a fair amount of harrowing circumstances in her life, so all the screaming and yelling could concievably be filed under 'Things To Do When Being Assaulted'. She stops screaming as soon as she's in Bekah's proximity, though her eyes are dialated and she's shaking from the adrenaline fueled by fear and pain. "Superficial," she manages to gasp, but nods shakily, "Have a look. Lee! Lee, come back!" The sudden shots fired make her flinch and automatically drops into a crouch, eliciting another groan of pain as she aggravates the laceration. Fortunately, she was only sliced, not stabbed - or she'd be in real trouble.

Bang! It doesn't seem that Petey was expecting someone to pull a gun, and then fire it at him. As the stumbling, obese man raises his hand up again to try and plunge his glass blade into Samantha once more, the bullet zips through the air, and opens his head up like a watermelon, splattering his brain against the side of the tree. Black, tar like goo drips down the bark, giving off a steaming hiss as the body itself topples forward in a heavy sag. A puddle of darkness, mixed with blood rivers out onto the grass, which begins to eat away at the green blades, causing it to shrivel, and darken.

Now, only the silence of the park remains, and the glow of fire in the distance as the flames continue to flicker, and burn, soon to die without anyone to provide it attention, and comfort. It's just another cold night in New York. Nothing out of the ordinary as usual.

Bekah looks up. "Lee? You alright?" She asks as she takes a look at Samantha's cut. "Barely a scratch." She says, or at least that's what's there when she takes her hand away.

Two shots, guys. Two. And he stabbed her, after all. Sliced, whatev. Geez, give a well-intentioned Irishman a break.

Thoroughly pleased with his marksmanship, Jack blows imaginary smoke from the barrel of his pistol, then lowers it and stows it away. When he realizes that everyone is either yelling at him or kissing the turf, he looks a little distraught. "What, would you rather I let her get cut some more? Besides, I didn't tell you to jump in there and try an' give him detention, Mr. Middle School Hero. Jesus, that's gross." Stepping forward, he nudges Petey's inert body with one toe. "Anyway, don't everyone thank me at once."

Lee comes stumbling over towards Bekah and Samantha, away from Jack in a hurry, after all, if the cops ask him, he'll have to rat him out. Also, he looks pale and unsteady at seeing someone blown away right in front of them and didn't hear a word Jack said anyway, a development that becomes obvious when he bellows: "Are you okay?" Yeah. He's been deafened temporarily by the gunshot. "It's hard for regular citizens to get guns in the city, how come every Don Corle-Quixote dingbat seems to know where to find them?" he yells, apparently guessing the double literary reference will be gotten by the doctors and missed by aforementioned dingbat.

Lee adds, loudly, to Bekah, "Yeah, I'm good, just can't really hear anything."

Randall starts to get up, then winces. Knowing you're supposed to land on cartilage is a far cry from actually having practiced doing it. "No, of course not," he calls out, "I was just getting out of the way in case he jogged your arm or something." With the extra distance, he's not quite so deafened as Lee is, though he does rub his ears. And then squints in the direction of Petey's fallen body, sniffing and wandering further over in that direction, against all common sense.

When her hand closes on air, Yael stumbles over her own two feet, maintaining her balance well enough that she doesn't fall to the ground - until Jane shouts. The poor woman really doesn't know if she needs to duck, but she drops to her knees, only half intending to, and covers her head with one hand, the other… covering her eyes? She slowly lifts her chin to look up from the ground, but her hand is still covering her eyes, and she cracks a space between two fingers so that she might look and reassure herself that Jack is okay. Which… is about when she realizes that he was the one doing the shooting. Yael has all but given up on chasing down Tamara, mainly because she still hasn't gotten to her feet again. "/Jack?/" she squeaks, aware that her voice isn't likely to carry far enough for him to hear. She staggers back to her feet, taking an awkward step backwards like she might just bolt.

Almost everyone, Jack. Tamara certainly isn't doing either; she just slows to a halt. Tipping her head to one side, she looks past the gathering into the darkness. After a moment, the girl shakes her head slightly. "You're clear," she murmurs for Yael's benefit - and perhaps Jane's as well, if the woman's close enough to hear. "Clear as crystal, just with a little mud in the water." /Now/, with the shooting over and done, Tamara sits down in the grass.

Samantha starts to shiver, and this time, not from fear but from cold. The blouse is little more then shreds on her body now, her skin a dull red she'll have to get looked at "Bekah, don't take this the wrong way, but I need to borrow your boyfriend's jacket." Samantha turns to Jack, hands crossed over her chest, "/Thank/ you." she says emphatically, "You should go - this will - park cops should be on their way, you don't want to be around." She's grateful, and doesn't want him pulled in.

With the whole thing seemingly over, except for whatever police activity follows, Jane steps forward again, headed toward Jack. Only a brief glance is cast toward the body he shot; the sight of what was in him and what it's doing to the grass is enough for her. She resists the urge to reject her most recent meal, and forces herself to somehow focus again. "Jack? What the hell was that?" The guitarist's back is kept to the spectacle. Eyes drift over toward the others, namely Randall, Lee, Bekah, and… "Dr. Applebaum?" Tamara is given a confused glance, her head shakes a few times.

"Sure. You're just trying to get Lee out of his clothes. We can talk about him now that he can't hear us, by the way." Bekah says dryly before she shakes her head looking over the mess. "Now, what in the hell do we say about this to the cops?" She asks before she nods to Lee. "I'm alright. That stuff was pretty caustic, though." She's peeling off her rubber gloves before any eats through them. "Maybe they're just not afraid to get them through not so legal sources." Bekah notes with a look to Jack's gun.

"Geez. At least the lady who got her life saved is grateful. I hate this city. 'M glad you're ok, lady-o. Make sure you take good care of that cut. I've seen that black stuff before, and I don't trust it." Wearily, he turns to adress Jane. "That was me being a good samaritan. /This/ is me gettin' the fuck outta dodge." Double-stepping, he crosses to Yael's side and stoops down to help her up. "C'mon. I'm done bein' recklessly altruistic. Let's go."

Lee catches Samantha's request more from her motions and shivering than from lip-reading skill. One bland wholesale-store jacket coming up. No patches on the elbows, though, as can be seen when he holds it out to her. He's clearly not a real academic. He leans in really close to try to hear Bekah, and finally requests clarification at high volume "The cops will have legal recourses?" He shakes his head, waves his hand a little as if erasing that question from a blackboard. "Forget about that, we'll probably have to make a statement to them no matter what recourse they have!" he bellows.

"I didn't see you." Sam calls this out to Jack, hoping he'll understand what she means. She points at Lee's jacket once she can get his attention, getting the remnants of her blouse off and standing there in the cold until he can have the opportunity to be gentlemanly, and once so she shrugs it on. "Jane?" she says in surprise, jacket surely fastened. By now, surely there are sirens.

"Thanks, Jack. What I saw was you shooting a dangerous man with some weird blood disorder who tried to attack you with a weapon when you aided Dr. Applebaum. Legally, I think you're in the clear." That's Jane's stated opinion, at least. "See you for the next gig, tomorrow night?"

Most of the way to standing when Jack offers to help her, Yael shies away some, colour rising in her cheeks. "I didn't do a very good job keeping an eye on your friend," she says, her voice quiet and clearly spooked, as she gestures to Tamara. Still, she seems reluctant to accept Jack's help, and she brushes down her skirt with a step away from her friend. One hand flattens against her belly, her eyes closing for a second or two. "I… I think I'm going to be sick." Pause. It's at this point that she reaches out and shoves Jack, /hard./ "What the hell were you thinking?"

Randall turns, looking to Jane, and nods. "What she said." He eyes the mess on the ground again, but sighs and walks away from it: there's no reasonable way he can get a sample of the whatever-that-stuff-is without encountering multiple major problems, one of which may well be the police, who would consider him to be the problem. Instead, he makes his way over to where Tamara is sitting. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks, bending forward with hands on knees.

Whether sirens are audible yet or no, there are indeed cops on the way. Gunshots tend to do that. That fact causes Tamara looks over to Jack and Yael. "If you're going," the girl says wearily, "you should go." She blinks at Randall. "Tired," she informs him, before proceeding to haul herself back up to her feet, tired or no. Tamara is also leaving before they get here.

Bekah gives Lee a smile as he offers his jacket. As if he'd have done anything else. She gives Jack a look before turns to glance towards where the sirens are coming from. "This was so not how I was planning to spend my night off."

Samantha mutters, "Me neither." She really wants to sit down herself. "God. Don't tell Namir about this, okay? He'll throw a fit and I don't want his recovery being delayed."

There's a faint sizzling noise from somewhere near the ground. It only takes Jack a few seconds to track it to the soles of his shoes, which are beginning to melt from passing through the black gore. When Yael shoves him, he stumbles back and glares at her. "Jesus, you too? Man.. This sucks. You'd think /I/ was the one who tried to cut her." He waves wearily at Jane and Randall as he turns and walks away. "Thanks guys. I was just tryin' to help. Cohen, I'm gettin' a cab. You can come if you like, just don't puke on me."

Lee listens carefully to Samantha and Bekah and his response is a loud: "I don't think that's in the cards for tonight no matter /how/ good it goes after this." with a wry half-smile. Try to figure /that/ one out.

Looking at Jack and his sizzling shoes, Jane makes a mental note to get a better explanation of what exactly happened another time. For now, though, with him departing, Tamara walking away, Yael possibly also leaving, there's just Randall, the doctors, and Lee. "This way, man," she suggests to Randall and walks toward the others, thinking if anyone talks to police it'll be them, and if they don't she can also escape having to say anything at all in an official capacity.

Looking at Jack and his sizzling shoes, Jane makes a mental note to get a better explanation of what exactly happened another time. For now, though, with him departing, Tamara about to be walking away, Yael possibly also leaving, there's just Randall, the doctors, and Lee. "This way, man," she suggests to Randall and walks toward the others, thinking if anyone talks to police it'll be them, and if they don't she can also escape having to say anything at all in an official capacity.

"You… you could have been—" Yael doesn't actually know what might have happened to him, had he been less adept at shooting. She hesitates as he walks away, looking back to where the man lies for about the two seconds it takes for her to convince herself that Jack really did just shoot someone. Sucking in a breath, her hand trembles, and she jogs to catch up to Jack before he can get too far away. "For the record, I'm not going to puke on you, /thank/ you," Yael says to Jack as she draws near, her tone still betraying some lingering apprehension. "I just can't feel my toes. Or… my hands."

"Did you see that stuff? My skin feels sore. What the hell /was/ he puking up?" Samantha demands, and now that the experience is over, doctorness is asserting itself. She starts to totter on shaky legs toward the corpse, not at all put off by its condition. She doesn't touch it, though. "I'll tell them he ripped my shirt off and it tore. Occam's Razor for the win."

Jack shoots a glance over his shoulder. "Uhh. Tamara? Why don't you tag along. Obviously, it's not safe out here."

Lee greets the people approaching, "Hey." he yells, recognizing Randall. "We have to stop meeting at shooting incidents like this." he bellows. "Statistically, one of us is going to eventually get hit." Tamara is just a bit out of his view, and for those who were literature majors, this can easily be identified as dramatic irony, as can the fact that Lee, who is unaware of this, was in fact a literature major. He occasionally throws in a malapropism to future conversations, and can't be really persuaded to give any particular story to the police, because he can't hear that well and that doesn't change by the time they get there.

Having started walking, Tamara stops as Jack turns back. She considers him for a moment, then just nods. She trails out in Jack and Yael's wake, without any making any vague and perplexing remarks this time.

Bekah sticks around to give a statement to the police, though it's a pretty dry one. Guy grabbed Sam, she called cops, some random passerby shot guy trying to hurt Sam. End of story.

Jack has left.

Randall makes a face at Lee. "Well, don't /tell/ the statistics what to do to us!" he retorts, before shaking his head and taking Jane up on her offer to exit, stage left.

Samantha gives her statement as well. Guy grabbed her, ripped her shirt off, unseen stranger shot him and took off. She'll let Bekah take her home, but otherwise, she's looking to avoid trouble.

"I'm just happy that man helped you against this… diseased person," Jane states, looking over at Samantha without much looking at the body, because she might get ill. It doesn't, however, seem to surprise her in the least that someone could be caustic that way, what with her world being populated by flying men, teens who pass through tables, power absorbing Petrellis, and other characters, in addition to her believed ultimate sopranoness. If neccessary, she sticks around, lies to the police about Jack, says what she said earlier except for knowing the shooter, hopes no one rats her out on that fact, and prays this doesn't get her disbarred.

Randall follows suit, his story of events reasonably matching those before it. He really was further away from the action, so it's easy for him to be vague about things. Sorry about that, chief.

And so, perhaps, sometime later it's just Jane and Randall walking away in whatever direction. She looks worried, seems to be thinking deeply while her feet move. No objection, however, is given to his presence. Maybe she has something to speak with him about on her own, eventually.

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