lucetilogs | Strangers in the night, exchanging glances

Entry tags:

Strangers in the night, exchanging glances

Who: Anyone working at Cloud Nine, well-intended rescuers, etc.
What: A raid.
When: August 29th, 11:31 PM.
Where: Cloud Nine
Summary: The night club turned homeless shelter does house quite a bit of food and booze, and a few Kin'corans have decided to take control of the situation.
Rating: R for violence.

It's not just people inside the club that begin it. After the club is locked for the night, someone begins pounding on the door. Despite the owner's instructions to the contrary, several people sleeping on the floor scramble up and open the door to let in a small swarm of men armed with knives and blunt weapons.

"Sorry you had to find out this way, but your posh night club is under new management now. If you have a problem with that? Get in the kitchen."

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With all the rumors and irritable murmurings over the past few days, Adele figured it would only be a matter of time before something like this happened. She would have expected the grocery store or another one of the stockpiles of food to be hit, not the club. There was little here other than space for rest.

Adele counts them lucky none of the tenants had been harmed when the armed men walked in. For what wouldn't be the first time that night she's thankful she always walked to the club armed. She didn't reach for anything, not yet, but she did sidle along back to Archie.

"...it may be better to cooperate, but the call is yours."

Is she kidding? There are a few people scurrying to the edges of the room, or slipping out the door--Kin'corans, all of them--but most appear untroubled at best, cooperative at worst. Archie swallows, hand twitching toward the pistol at his side that only gives him one shot before he is engulfed and beaten to death. He takes a deep breath and nods.

"Into the kitchen."

Men with sticks and knives- after taking potshots at a god not along ago they aren't anything that frighten her on her own behalf much at the moment. For Archie and the other bystanders? Of course. All the same she ducks her head in deferral and starts edging her way to the kitchen, eyes on the armed Kin'Corans.

In the kitchen are knives. Lots of knives, and Archie knows exactly where all of them are. Trouble is, they're as easily reached by the raiders as by himself. If he's going to make a move, it has to be the moment he's inside. He tries to herd Adele so she enters the kitchen before he does, making sure she goes in front, placing himself between her and the Kin'corans.

Once inside, without pause, he seizes a butcher knife and swings around, slashing at the ribs of one raider.

Adele's not happy about being forced in first- she's not happy about having to leave her back to these men at all- but there wasn't anything for it. Too many armed men and no room to maneuver. She follows Archie's silent instructions, lets him stand where he wants as they move. It gives her cover for the hand she has sneaking up to her shoulder holster.

Only one shot, but she could make it count.

"Oi!" Low. Curt. Distantly familiar- not that Adele has time to think about it. The bulky, suited man Archie slashed out at was caught offguard- took the hit right along his left side. Stumbled half a step back before shoving forward with a knife all his own.

Archie blocks the knife-hand and aims a vicious kick to the man's kneecap.

"Go!" he barks to Adele, but the rest of the mob is already reacting to the action.

"Fuck'n twat-" He snarls, curls his thick fingers into a meaty fist to swing down at the little bastard's head. Then pain- a sharp thwack followed by a strangled cry. His knee. His one good fucking knee. That HURT. "FUCK!"

He flails, staggers in the doorway only to be shoved forward when the rest of the armed men react to the violence. Bastards.

Adele scrambles further back and draws her revolver, turns to bring it to bear on the first head she see's- Archie's in the way. There's no safe shot.

Edited 2012-08-29 20:56 (UTC)

Archie isn't much of a match for a crowd all focused on him. Most are simply trying to grab hold of him, and several do, wresting the knife from his grip. It's only one gung-ho excitable who shoves a paring knife in his side.

At first, Archie doesn't really react. He simply fights as he's wrestled to the floor.

"Off him, now!" Some further back saw the gun and reacted accordingly, backing out of the kitchen for the time being. Those yet on Archie either didn't notice, or didn't care.

"I said OFF!"

The men wrestling Archie have not yet seen the gun. One gets two punches in before someone behind him grabs his shoulder and yanks him backwards with a murmured warning. That gets their attention, and the other men follow suit. A very pale Archie remains frozen on the floor, a patch of red forming below his ribs.

"Out. Now." It's difficult to get a read on how badly Archie's been hurt- all she can see is blood seeping through his clothing and for half a second it's everything she's been seeing come to light in the worst way. Cold fury keeps her from losing focus. The gun remains trained on the men backing out as she slips forward and balls a hand over Archie's wound. She can't spare the time to check.

"...call for help."

Gathering his wits about him, Archie carefully rolls onto his side and pulls out his journal. That's when one of the Kin'corans sees the pistol at his side and gets a bright idea. She makes a grab for the pistol just as Archie opens the journal and starts the feed, raising it to eye level in a second.

She almost warns the girl away. Were she anyone else Adele might have. But they'd had their warning, Archie is bleeding at her feet and she is in no mood for diplomacy. She's cold. She's angry. And right now she has an acceptable target.

It's as easy as it was before to follow the line of movement. Aim. Squeeze the trigger and watch the girl's forehead burst in a splatter of blood, bone, and brain. Her last bullet for a damn good cause- and more than enough time for her to pull a knife from her pocket and push forward. Keep them out of the kitchen, keep Archie safe.

"I said OUT!"

There's an explosion of swearing amongst the crowd, seeing the body of the woman slump to the floor over Archie, but they begin to back off. Archie doesn't even shove the body off as he focuses on sending out a message, but he does seize the pistol back.

"Cloud Nine. There's been an..." His mind goes blank. "Erm. One dead. Send help."

Out of ammunition, but they don't know that. Not yet. Adele keeps the gun up and stalks closer to the group in the door. Herd them out to where she could move. Keep them from hurting Archie further. Her priorities are somewhat skewed at the moment.

"Keep pressure on the wound Archie."

But Archie is a King's man. At the moment, he's struggling to his feet, grasping for his pistol, and kicking the body off him--oh good Lord, it's a woman, help him--so he can stand by Adele. Both hands are used up taking aim with his pistol as he slowly realizes none of the rioters realize he only has one shot. He is pale, but the bleeding is oozing rather than gushing, so he assumes he can die later if he must. For now, he's going to stand like an officer.

"Archie if you do not sit down and keep pressure on that wound I will pistol whip you myself and tie you to the oven." The barest edge of grim humor as she offers him a glance. A glare. Then one moves forward- a twitch, a shift, a sneeze- it didn't matter.

What mattered was that they moved forward rather than back, and she'd told them. It's a quick motion fluid from practice, the knife spins out of her free hand and lands somewhere amongst the fleshy bits of the crowd.

Archie ignores her, but is having a very difficult time seeing desperate Kin'corans and not Spanish privateers. If only he'd taken his sword with him.

The crowd shies back from her thrown knife, but it manages to only nick one person, and not seriously. Then, whispers can be heard from the back.

"Stay in the kitchen." It's all she can think of to say- especially since this bluff won't hold much longer. If she's angling to keep herself more or less between Archie and the Kin'Corans he can blame her for it later.

"For mercy's sake, I'm the bloody officer, not y--"

Now, whispers one Kin'coran. Three people break through the crowd and lunge for Adele and Archie, two headed for the officer. Archie fires his pistol, taking one of them in the arm. The other two slow down suddenly.

"Merde."

She flips her pistol in her grip and dodges to the left, swings the gun down to crack it across the top of one Kin'coran's head. It gives her time and room to draw her rapier to defend Archie. Somewhat. She has to twist and shove the pommel into the gut of one before she can pull the blade free properly.

The bullet spent, Archie is suddenly realizing he can't even keep a grip on the weapon no matter how his fingers grasp. It clatters to the floor as one of his knees buckles.

"Archie-" Her first instinct is to help him. She's a physician, a surgeon, keeping him alive is what she needs to do. But she can't. There isn't room or time for it. All she can do is twist to free her blade from it's sheath and knock the Kin'corans back.

"Stay down. Keep pressure on the wound." Tight with anxiety as she ducks another lunge, returns it with one of her own. "Don't let yourself bleed out."

He's starting to get the idea. One hand goes to the wound in his side, pressing against it, and he sinks to the floor, pale as a ghost.

The Kin'corans, seeing that Adele and Kennedy have spent their ammunition, are growing bolder. Some have already darted in around the main group to grab handfuls of whatever food is on the counters.

Another time- with more help on hand, she'd be there with him. But there are rabble grabbing for what's theirs and more still with knives and she just can't let this stand. It's not the drills she's used to- it's not droids that falter and fade once struck. It's blood, flesh, and bone that she's darting out and cutting, her form rough, unpolished, but precise in it's intent. She aims for joints. Knees, wrists, shoulders- the meatier bits. Throws another knife when she has the time, herds them away from the counters. Dodges what blows she's able.

It's not clean. It's not pretty. And she's too furious to give a damn.

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