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Post by Deleted on Jun 24, 2013 12:34:31 GMT -8
Mister Collins could make things right. Michael always makes things right. He could protect all of them. If Arthur was the Excalibur, Michael was the shield. Heck, Michael was freaking Merlin if anything. He had a lot of security up in this building, didn't he? Yes he did, he had several agents, plus MI6 sent in some agents independently, yes? And of course you aren't supposed to let people know you're an agent, so they should be in there somewhere... they should exist, people that save people exist... She looked towards her cousin, who didn't happen to have a very nice image in her mind. She had seen him as someone who was frail in a secret aspect with health, who overcompensated by hitting up just about any whore. Even if prostitution was illegal in London, thank goodness, that didn't stop women from selling their bodies. But she could sense it in him. She remembered the few times that she had seen him as a child. She had once witnessed him having one of those angina attacks. Of course it was being properly treated, but even with the best treatments in the world, nature liked to take its course. The public knew nothing of poor Mister Bondevik's son suffering from a heart disease and trying to find a cure and alternative treatment to fix his dear boy. She remembered him collapsing in the garden, much panic happening. She remembered the times when his mother was actually around. She rushed towards her son with open arms and a panicked air around her. She remembered his mother hoisting her son into his arms and yelling something of an Icelandic curse at her husband and running him like a mother bear charging at her cub's attackers to a couch. Johanna remembered it very clearly, the way that woman stroked her son's hair with much carefulness and dialed the private doctor. And then... Lukas's father had come in with a bottle. The wife stared at the bottle wide-eyed and shook her head, preventing the husband from administering the contents of the bottle. "Be sensible, Katrine! Do you want your son to die because of your stubbornness? The drug will be able to do more than just cure him—" "I won't let you use him as a pincushion for your experiments." That was the last sentence that Johanna had heard her aunt say before being apprehended by hired Maximantics men. The pills went in and all Johanna could remember was hiding under the table as Lukas's convulsions began and an ear-splitting cry began. His mother never came back. Johanna knew it wasn't the Maximantics men that killed her. The wife just couldn't take it any longer. And she fled. She could never look at her own son straight in the eyes. She could feel it, though. There was a certain air to it. The same air from before. She hadn't seen him with an angina attack in ages. But she knew that she felt it, the same sense from that day. A nervous heaviness in her chest, despite not having the heart problem, she breathed slowly. It was a quivering sense and she could see it etched in his eyes. He knew something was wrong. He knew that she knew something was wrong. And he didn't want her to know anything was wrong. He didn't want to admit anything was wrong. He was just as stubborn as both of his parents in this case... "Lukas, are you... are you in pain?"He's not going to answer that question. He's going to deny it. He's not going to allow you to help him. He allows no one to help him, that selfish bastard. He was leaning against the wall for support and she was frozen in position. She wasn't going to spring into action right off the bat, as if she could do anything that could make a difference. "Well, while we're looking for Mr. Collins, we're looking for Sindri as well," he responded. Sindri? Who was he talking about? Who was he— Oh please don't hallucinate, dear cousin, please don't do this now, please maybe lead us out of this building, dear cousin. You are going to be the leader of a mega corporation and you will lead many to financial success... This was pitiful thinking, expecting someone who was unwell to lead you away... But she couldn't help it. "Sindri? Lukas, this is ridiculous, we're not going to look through the crowd to find a friend or lover of yours..."She gripped his hand tightly to lead him back into the crowd to find a way to escape and find Mister Collins. Of course, this would be a very unwise choice. A very unwise choice indeed. Already, there was disheveled panic. The stupidity of humanity had arisen as people decided to run out of the place in a fashion that was most certainly not orderly. She felt the wrist in her hand becoming more limp, weight soon dragging behind her instead of a companion running beside her. She turned to see him gritting his teeth and clutching at his chest and searching his pockets for something. She pivoted to see— oh great Odin no. A shriek shot like a bullet from a small girl pinned under a chandelier. Clara. At her feet, her cousin, hallucinating and in no condition to save himself. And her panic, taking over her, no instinct to save herself. "Mister C-collins... What do we... Mister Collins!" she cried, unable calculate the path to where survival was clearest. She saw the others in their positions, and she had merely been lucky to have the need to apprehend Lukas, to have gone out into the hallway to lecture him during the explosion... and what more, no one said that would be the only explosion. This was only the beginning...
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Post by Deleted on Jun 24, 2013 17:12:57 GMT -8
His head was pounding, a semi-familiar pain striking his chest. He gasped for air, his head spinning. This wasn't like any of his other attacks, that much he knew. God, don't tell him it was an unstable one. Lukas barely heard his cousin's question. "Yeah, I am. It's nothing to worry about" is what he wanted to tell her, but no words came out. He couldn't put words together to reassure whatever fears Johanna might have. All he could think of was the heavy weight on his chest, the pain slowly moving to his shoulder and neck. He prayed that this was only a stable attack.
He grabbed slightly at his chest with his freehand before letting go to dig around in his pockets. It had to be somewhere, he always had them on his person. Pulling out the small bottle, he opened it and shook it slightly. He cursed under his breath, finding there was only one tablet left. Damn, why now of all times to be out of his medicine? Well, all he could do was hope it was enough. He took the tablet and placed it under his tongue. A familiar burning sensation calmed him down slightly. It should be enough, one usually was enough. Sometimes it took two, but that was only rarely.
He took a few steps forward, trying to steady his breathing. Everything was going to be fine, it had to be. He had to do it for Johanna's sake, he could hear the panic only grow in her voice. "...Whether I'm fine or...not can wait until we...get out..." he finally responded between breaths. The pain was almost unbearable, though all he could really do was wait until the medicine kicked in. That is, if it did. 'I'll be fine... Everything will be alright... After this I'll just go to the hospital, no big deal... Not the first time I had to do so because of this... It's just another attack, it will go away in a bit...'
He let himself be dragged along by his cousin. He was grateful he had her by his side, he should probably thank her later... Now that he thought about it, this rushing about wasn't helping his pain at all. If anything, it was only making it worse. "Hey can you...slow down a bit?" he asked, trying his best to keep up with the Icelandic woman. It was just getting harder to do so as time went on. Speaking of time, surely his medicine should have kicked in by now. This wasn't good, not at all. Now he was beginning to panic a bit.
He figured by now his expression showed pain as clear as day. He didn't even have enough strength to try to cover it with something else. He could feel his strength fading, that mixed with his dizziness and shortness of breath along with his chest pain was too much for him to handle. Next thing he knew, he might get nausea as well, and that was one of the last things he wanted. It was as if his angina was trying to kill him. It might settle down after some rest, but if the medicine didn't work he figured that it would only get worse. He knew he couldn't last much longer, though how would he explain that to Johanna? She seemed too stressed out already, not to mention she was probably scared out of her mind. Then again, he was scared as well. How couldn't he be when he was his medical condition was acting up while everything around him was falling apart?
He tripped over fallen debris and met the ground hard, then he grabbed at his chest again and struggled to get up on his knees. 'In...out...in...out...' he mentally repeated, as if it would actually help in the slightest. It felt like the room was spinning and his stomach began doing flips. It felt like he was going to hurl, the thought of doing so only made him more sick to his stomach. Then he collapsed, his consciousness fading.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 25, 2013 1:27:16 GMT -8
Sadik wasn't exactly on the greatest terms with Mr. Bondevik or his security team. It seemed that every encounter with him led them to butt heads with each other. Roughly a month ago, the Home Office had intercepted a message detailing an assassination attempt on the senior Mr. Bondevik to take place during the soiree. He had insisted that Maximantics call the whole event off. Despite multiple written requests and monotonous negotiations over the phone, the stubborn bastard simply refused to listen. Mr. Bondevik maintained that their guards were sufficient, even superior to his own. He was the goddamn Home Secretary. He ought to know a thing or two about security by now. They were kicking up a hornet's nest, that's what they were doing. The corporation wanted his units to work separately out of fear that the Agency couldn't be entrusted with keeping their 'precious' heir safe.
An army divided conquered absolutely fucking nothing.
He coughed hoarsely. Ah, dammit. His throat itched and his skin prickled with the threat of fever. He called in hours prior to let his coworkers know that he wasn't feeling well. They shouldn't have to hold their breath waiting for him. He normally arrived late, anyway. Illness or not, he wasn't the type to miss a party. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. Attendance was mandatory which was fucking /stupid/. However, Michael had, ahem, brought an issue to his attention over a text message.
Apparently they were bullheaded enough to tie the hands of his own officers in favor of sweeping the area with their own hired guard. He grimaced. This whole affair utterly reeked of bullshit. He could not give less of a shit if the man had to eat lead, but people's lives were at stake. They were not only not taking the situation seriously but they were practically castrating themselves for what? To show off? Quite frankly, he felt like shit and he wasn't in the mood to deal with this. Now wasn't the time to make enemies - not that they saw eye to eye in the first place - but he was going to give that rich bastard, Bondevik, an earful. He cracked his knuckles. A bit of civil discourse as they called it in politics. If that asshole got a bullet between his eyes because of his own stupidity then Sadik was going to make sure his words were the last words Mr. Bondevik ever heard.
Suddenly, the ceiling shook with a resounding boom. He looked up toward the source, a chandelier swinging haphazardly above his head. Fuck. A blow to the side knocked the wind out of him and sent him sprawling onto the floor. His scars throbbed angrily and his stomach tightened. The sound of glass shattering rattled in his ear – or was it all in his head? He cried out as shards cut his skin open at the seams. A deafening shriek pierced through the heart of the chaos.
Tires squealed. Whiplash. His neck contorted at an unnatural angle. Blood spattered the dashboard.
He blinked, trying to process what he had just witnessed. It couldn't have possibly been her, could it? His heart plummeted in his chest. He had trouble registering it. Clara lay face down on the floor, pinned beneath the chandelier. Blood began to pool around her. No. She wasn't moving.
Please, don't be dead.
"No. Nononono. Fuckfuckfuck. Not again." he whispered.
He couldn't save her. It should fucking have been him.
"H... h-help." she called out weakly. Sadik stumbled to his feet and knelt beside her. Gyro trailed close behind and swept his tongue across the back of her hand, whining. Hope flickered in his chest.
"HELP!" He repeated, "PLEASE. SOMEONE HELP HER."
She lifted her head. Her hair stuck messily to her tear stained face. "Can you speak? Where does it hurt?" Her lips parted, but no words escaped. Her breath came in heavy gasps. Shit. He flipped open his phone and started to dial 999. No wait. The lines would soon be flooded with calls from all over. He ran his fingers through her hair in disbelief. She was still here. “D-Don't cry, girlie.” Clara stiffened, ceasing almost instantaneously. He panicked. How could he have forgotten? “Shit, no. I didn't mean that. You c-can cry.” Sobs began to wrack her tiny form. His heart clenched. She let out a long, forlorn wail.
Something inside of him snapped.
He gripped the chandelier tightly and let loose a snarl. Anger roiled inside of him, choking him like tobacco smoke. Life had fucked him plenty of times before before and it wasn't about to let it happen again. Sadik Adnan was not fucking helpless. No one was going to die and he was going to make sure of it. He would do anything to keep her safe. His friend. His coworker. His precious daughter.
"Don't you dare die on me. That's an order."
TAGS: Nonononono WORDS: 837 NOTES: Please, someone save her.
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Post by Asunara Wisdom on Jun 25, 2013 10:22:46 GMT -8
MOD - DOCTOR BRAEDEN GREYSON Dr. Braeden Greyson, a prominent name in science, had upon occasion worked with Maximantics. In fact, he was hired to help develop drugs in particular (legal in nature, of course), being entrusted with helping develop Mr. Bondevik's son's drugs and being in charge of several projects. He has a long list of important names he has worked for, and this is perhaps not the first time he has attended a soiree that would be sabotaged. Of course, though, Maximantics was perhaps the most important of that list and a sabotaged soiree with Maximantics was sure to make headlines. He had calm airs about him as he attempted to help direct the onslaught of panicking socialites. He was shaking his head on the inside, aren't you supposed to expect these kinds of things when you gather this many important people, in disappointment of society. These people liked to pretend they were calm and collected, aristocratic in nature. Do those kinds of people exist in this day and age, when the media meddles with your mind? Really now... But of course, he had his concerns, especially in... Oh dear, Lukas? Lukas had actually been one of Doctor Greyson's patients, Greyson being charged as a leader of his case. Had the boy really run out of Aconril...? This can't be good... { OBJECTIVES - Find Lukas some Aconril (must talk to Greyson to proceed with this objective) - Evacuate everyone from the building - Tend to the injured - Find the cause of the explosion if possible
Good luck }
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Post by Deleted on Jun 25, 2013 17:36:41 GMT -8
What first alerted Liesel to the goings-on at Maximantics was the explosions, which rang through the London air for miles around. Initially Liesel complained about the lack of action in her sub-par work life, but most people only dreamed of bad things to happen, so they could be the hero when they were needed the most. No one actually wanted people to get hurt so they could have their glory, and certainly no one wanted a building to explode for their sake either! And thus, stuck on her feet with no car to her name Liesel booked it as quickly as she could the couple of miles to the smoldering Maximantics building.
“Stay nearby,” she was told in her briefing. “I don’t anticipate anything happening… but you never know.”
Talk about jinxing it. From the sound of the explosion (and the massive pillar of smoking and flame billowing up from the tower) Liesel concluded whatever went on within the building had a high probability of taking out a ton of people—and considering London’s top politicians were there, including the prestigious Prime Minister hopeful, there was plenty of reason to believe the people behind this were intent on dealing a massive blow to the government. She hadn’t even seen the situation yet, but though the commotion on her earpiece she could clearly hear screams of terror and pain.
The sheer severity of the attack became even more clear the moment she could see the building up close, with shattered windows, fire, people flailing their arms desperately to flag down rescue. With sirens closing in from all directions, Liesel breathed deep of the last bit of clean air she would have access to for the next... God knew how long. She waved at a man frantically trying to grab someone's attention, attempting to calm him in such a way that said, "Don't worry. I'll be there soon." Him and many others would need help, she could only hope she wasn't the only one in the area.
"Up close, the situation looks pretty bleak right now." Liesel spoke into the earpiece to anyone nearby that might pick up her signal. "Many of the upper floors look completely on fire. I don't know how many people are still in here, but there was a party going on up there."
She entered into the smoke-filled bottom level and aimed immediately for the stairs, praying that they wouldn't simply collapse in on top of her before she could get up a floor or two. Screams became more audible the higher she climbed. God, she'd kill for a jet pack or something useful. Weren't agents supposed to usually have cool gadgets or something?
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Post by Deleted on Jun 25, 2013 18:55:17 GMT -8
Listening to Arthur's laughter in response to Michael's question, Ludwig could answer for himself: clearly, everyone was not all right. But so far, he seemed to be alone in holding together his presence of mind. Everyone else seemed to have frozen in shock. Arthur wasn't moving, and Michael seemed not to have heard him; Ludwig allowed him the benefit of the doubt, as perhaps he was still processing the realization that his security hadn't been good enough as he'd expected. Soon enough, however, the latter recovered and sized up the situation. Ludwig listened closely, even as the building continued to rumble ominously: the politician remained keenly aware that they were high up in the tower, effectively trapped if the place decided to collapse.
He could only do so much to help, Ludwig knew, but he wasn't going to leave the building without making sure others had gotten out alright. He was relatively uninjured; those who had been caught in the explosion might not be so lucky, and what little first-aid training he'd gotten in the military might be of some use there. Adrenaline still rushing through his veins, he gave a backward glance before charging from the private room, dodging pieces of broken glass and running the length of the hallway. A crash and a horrible scream rent the air, and even more worried than before, Ludwig sped up, reaching the ballroom in seconds.
Here, he had to stop and steel himself again: he hadn't even come close to being prepared for the devastation that the once lively party had become. Injured men and women were crying out for help beneath chunks of broken wall and ceiling; some lay silent, unconscious or worse. Those that could move were limping or struggling or crawling towards the door, and it was clear that a great deal more had fled the room already. He found the source of the crash from earlier easily: one of the massive chandeliers had fallen from the ceiling and come down on top of someone. And trying to move the chandelier was…
"Sadik! Sadik, stop!" Ludwig called out desperately, running towards his coworker. From far away, Ludwig could see what the other man couldn't: the massive chandelier was rocking, and by trying to lift one side, Sadik was only further crushing the opposite leg of whoever was trapped beneath. As Ludwig drew close, he could clearly see why Sadik hadn't seemed to have heard him and was only trying harder to lift the huge object: Clara had been the unlucky victim, and incredibly, was still conscious. Ludwig felt a huge surge of fear for the health of his friend, and guilt quickly rose in his chest: he had been the one to coax her into spending a night out for once - indirectly, this was his fault. But there was no time for that now. Sadik was still trying to shift the chandelier, and didn't seem to have heard Ludwig's shouting. Taking a breath, Ludwig stood in front of the older man and grabbed him solidly by the shoulders.
"Sadik, you have to stop!" It took a lot of effort to keep his coworker from continuing to heave the heavy construct up, but Ludwig was strong. Still, Sadik had gone desperate. Ludwig knew how much Clara meant to him; the almost crazed look in his eyes confirmed what the blond already suspected. "Sadik! Look at me! You're going to crush her, you can't do this," he insisted, his eyes wide. The older man didn't seem to be listening at all; Ludwig tried to speak slowly and loudly and deliberately, and kept himself half-wedged between his coworker and the fallen chandelier. "You have to stop. You can't move this by yourself. I-- we're going to help you, alright? But you have to stop moving this," he repeated in an effort to get through to the other man. Ludwig wasn't even sure how much time had gone past; Clara was tough, but with such awful injuries, she desperately needed to be moved out of the building.
Soon enough, Ludwig could feel himself going hoarse; whether or not Sadik had even heard him still remained up to debate. But they had to get out of the building, and there was absolutely no way Ludwig was leaving any of his coworkers -- his friends -- trapped. "Okay, okay," he said loudly, "I'm going to help you, alright?" Letting go of Sadik's shoulders, Ludwig hurried to the other side of the fallen chandelier and seized the lowest glittering rung. If Sadik continued to try and lift the chandelier, now, Ludwig would lift the other side and Clara would be freed. Ludwig just hoped the man had enough presence of mind left not to drop the whole thing back down once it was off of the girl: there was no way Ludwig could support the weight of the whole thing by himself. "On my count, pull straight up, okay? You got that?" He shot the other man a sharp nod, before counting, "One, two, three!"
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Post by Mihai Chimet on Jun 27, 2013 11:01:35 GMT -8
As he waited for his coworkers to gather themselves, he pushed open the door and peered into the hallway. Some debris littered their path, but it looked stable, for the most part. He guessed that the explosion was a rather contained one, but situated above the ballroom for maximum impact. Unless it was an accident? He knew that Maximantics kept some unstable chemicals in their laboratories, but they couldn't possibly be that careless—though he had to admit that arrogance was a potent drug. Still, it was too coincidental, and much too perfect. From the stillness above them, he assumed that there would be no more trouble, whereas an accident would not nearly have been so clean. And the message he'd received through the earpiece...
He bit his lip. There was no room for doubt that someone was deliberate in causing the explosion, and if that were the case, then they had enemies in the building. Someone had transmitted that message, after all; he couldn't let his guard down now, especially with Ludwig and Arthur in tow. Though, speaking of them, he did receive a subtle sense of blame from behind him.
A half-resigned sigh drooped his shoulders. They were pinning it on him already, weren't they? The crisis could have been averted easily enough if Maximantics had allowed them a sweep of the other floors, so it really, technically had nothing to do with him or his division, though he'd stomach his excuses—that is, explanations—for later so long as they did the same for their grievances. He wouldn't be so lucky as to expect the same sort of distance from the media, however, and if he got out of here unharmed he'd would be best off to have his explanations on hand. But that was a later issue for a later time.
He turned back to the other two. "I honestly could have thought of better ways to spend the evening," he replied lightly, then fell silent. What options did he (they) have now? He had to get Arthur and Ludwig to safety, but there was no easy way to do that on the fiftieth floor—not to mention that Clara and Johanna were missing. Had security escorted them out already? He bit his lip. He should check—he should check but he had to ensure Arthur and Ludwig's well-being too. He could send them off on their own, but if the perpetrator or their cohorts were around, the both of them would be in immediate danger. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"I'm going to the ballroom," he announced. "Clara went in that direction, and I don't know where Miss Bondevik went. The ballroom probably took the heaviest damage of the blast though, so it's going to be dangerous in there, but either way, I'm responsible for their safety and I want to find them, if I can." He hesitated. "You two can go, if you want. There are stairs a bit further down the hallway, but whoever caused this might be still around; I can't say for certain." Another sigh, but this time a hint of frustration edged in. "Either way, it'll be dangerous." His eyes darted between the two men. "It's up to you."
With that, he turned around and stepped into the hallway, barely hearing their uttered replies, but something must have been said as Ludwig charged past him. He sped up slightly, though he didn't share Ludwig's enthusiasm to reach the ballroom. He didn't know what he should expect when he got to there, but if he was correct in assuming that the explosion had been directly above (or near to) the party, what was in there would be complete and utter chaos. If the guests were lucky, the worst they'd suffer was from the debris falling from above—if not, he wasn't sure there would be many people left alive to be found.
The damage was both better and worse than he'd expected. Immediately visible were the patrons panicking and making for the nearest exit, the last trickle of them disappearing through the doorway amidst the dust. The next thing he noticed was the chandelier leaning on its side in the middle of the floor, looking like a twisted wreck of a monster. Someone was beside it, but he couldn't quite make out any features before his attention was pulled away by a familiar voice. "Mister C-collins... What do we... Mister Collins!"
He gripped Johanna by the elbow just as the male beside her collapsed, and she looked on the verge of it herself. His eyes darted from her panicked face down to the crumpled form at their feet, recognizing the pale hair of Lukas Bondevik. "What's wrong with him?" he asked, a frown coloring his features. "Did he get hit?" Frankly, he wasn't as interested in the well-being of the Bondevik heir as he was in that of his coworkers, but he knew of Johanna's relation to Lukas, and she would likely not leave without him. He bit back his desire to tell her to leave him to what remaining security there was, and bent downward to loop one of Lukas' arms over his shoulder as she explained her cousin's condition.
He turned his attention to Johanna once again. "Are you all right?" he asked. She looked fine, compared to Lukas, but it couldn't hurt to make sure. He hesitated briefly before continuing, "And have you seen Clara anywhere?"
He never heard her answer, not that one would be needed. His attention was drawn by another shout, this time coming from the man by the chandelier. It wasn't until his eyes focused on the other man's form that recognition began to take hold. "Boss?" The word came from his lips instinctively, the tone questioning as he couldn't be certain. Sadik had said he'd stay home, didn't he? Sadik had told him he wouldn't be at the soiree, but there he was, kneeling by the chandelier, now joined by Ludwig. God, what in the world had happened over there?
Mihai made a motion for Johanna to follow him, then picked his way across the strewn glass and debris, finding a cleared space to set Lukas' unconscious form. He made a quiet mention to her to see if she could find any of his medicine before he went to unravel yet another mystery of the evening.
The question died on his lips when he saw the object of Ludwig and Sadik's distress. He'd seen bad accidents in his career—hell, even worse—but it was something else to see a coworker trapped under the biting metal of the fallen chandelier. For a moment, he was struck by how delicate Clara seemed among the wreck, broken like a doll, and he wondered if he should fear her death. But the pained noises that came from her lips made it apparent that she was still alive yet, and part of the other two's desire to hasten the removal of the iron cage above her.
"I thought you weren't going to be here," he said through gritted teeth, his eyes still glued on Clara though the statement was clearly directed at the Home Secretary. "Figures that the party goes to pieces when you show up." A tense smile raised the corners of his lips as he knelt down by the chandelier himself. It was a small attempt to reassure himself, a momentary distraction to attempt to take the bitter, biting edge out of the situation. Because it didn't look good. No one could take the weight of debris like this without a good deal of damage, and what was more, Clara was already a rather delicate girl. Judging by her expression and the wreckage alone, it was an undeniable certainty that her legs were in bad shape, and they could all only hope that the damage wouldn't be permanent. Though they'd only stand a chance at hoping if they got out alive.
His eyes flickered up to meet Ludwig's, then over to Sadik. "You two pull; I'll drag her out," he said. He hoped this would be their only rescue attempt for the evening, but it hardly seemed like a possibility. Even so, there were no other stragglers to be seen beneath the debris littering the ballroom—they were lucky enough not to have received this blow. He thought that was a pity, as he would have preferred their sacrifice over Clara's bleeding body.
He reached out for the girl in question, grabbing her by the upper arms. "Sorry, love," he said with a smile. Its character bordered the edges of pity and a desire to provide reassurance. "This is going to hurt."
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AGENT
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Hairdresser, pony breeder, and secret agent
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Post by Feliks Łukasiewicz on Jun 29, 2013 17:07:38 GMT -8
Feliks wasn't exactly the sort of agent who could be detailed to the party itself. People would generally notice an eccentric hairdresser trying to mingle with the elite, and his cover job meant that he couldn't go anywhere high-profile without being identified as exactly that. Not that he minded: the more presentably classy agents typically described such duty as being divided between their professional alertness and plain human boredom. That given, the young blonde considered himself lucky to be assigned to the more interesting place of wandering around outside. He could do whatever he wanted as long as he stayed alert and close enough to the Maximantics building to act as instant backup. Not a bad deal for him, all considered: he enjoyed the chance to observe a different sort of people, and his perennial "I like pretty buildings" excuse was true enough to keep him going for a while.
There was a pretty fountain outside the building, with a low, wide wall around it perfect for sitting on. Feliks had been lounging there for some time, wondering in philosophical fashion about whether the people he was watching now were more or less happy than those of his significantly lower social class, when his mild reverie was interrupted by a tremendous blast from inside the building. Glass sprayed out from a window a few stories up.
Instantly, he was on his feet. His role to play here was that of the "heroic bystander," who responded to a nearby emergency by doing whatever good could be done. Maybe he wasn't strong enough to be doing the hard things--things like, say, tackling escaping saboteurs or lifting fallen walls would probably be beyond his capacity--but a healthy pair of hands and an alert pair of eyes could do some good.
The Agent charged into the building, carefully avoiding the broken glass blocking the way, looking for things that needed to be done.
It was easy to tell where the party was, and from the doorway he could take in the overall shape of things in the dusty room. There were the silhouettes of three men rescuing someone from beneath a fallen chandelier--Feliks would not interfere, since he suspected he would only cause greater problems. A clump of people huddled in a corner, apparently terrified. And in the middle of the room was a single, composed figure. Feliks approached that one.
As he drew closer, waving the dust away from his face as he did, he could tell that that person was a doctor. For this unusual occasion, where he needed to be taken seriously for once, Feliks shifted his voice to a lower register than was his wont and affected a much more regularized accent. "Doctor. What kind of help is needed?"
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Post by Deleted on Jun 30, 2013 1:36:42 GMT -8
MAXIMANTICS CORPORATION LABORATORY - 55th FLOOR
The government and corporations made strange bedfellows - and the Space Agency often joined them beneath the sheets. For whatever reason, they had selected him as a representative. They wanted him to consult with their researchers to discuss an upcoming project together. He was to help design a new way to administer medicine. His skin crawled at the thought. He rubbed his temples to ease a headache that was flaring up. It was a pharmaceutical company, right? His brow furrowed. Physics was his area of expertise. Wouldn't it make more sense to select someone with a degree in chemistry or biology? ...Not that it mattered, anyway.
He stepped out of the elevator and avoided the gaze of the guard who towered before him. Toris flashed his badge, twirling it between his finger tips. It read 'TORIS L. - United Kingdom Space Agency - ENGINEER' Anxiety swelled in his chest like an over-inflated balloon. It was just a security checkpoint. No need to panic. He shrugged off his green cargo jacket and folded it with care, placing it into the flimsy plastic bin along with his other belongings. It was an unnecessary gesture, but to do otherwise felt... unnatural. A hand motioned him forward. Toris stepped up and raised his arms parallel to the ground. He sucked in a breath and willed himself not to flinch. The metal detector crackled, filling the air with its intermediate cries. He glanced at the guard rifling through his stuff so carelessly. A twinge of possessiveness jabbed at his gut. He... really shouldn't have been bothered. It was stupid to get worked up over this. They waved him through. He sighed in relief and pulled on his jacket. His fingers thumbed the pockets, making sure nothing had gone missing. Those few seconds always felt like eternity.
He wished they had picked a better time though. His footsteps echoed against the tile. He hummed softly, his voice almost deafening in the vacant hallway. It was... eerie to say the least. Save for a few guards, the place was practically deserted. He wondered if everyone else had left for the day. Disinfectant and something that smelled vaguely like medicinal grape assaulted his nose as he entered the laboratory. He'd prefer not to pull another all nighter. Not in a place like this. It reminded him a bit too much of a hospital. A shiver ran down his spine. Toris brushed at the thought like a loose strand of hair and tucked away his concerns behind his ear.
"It's a pleasure to work with you Mister, ah..." The man squinted, peering at his name badge. "...Toris."
Toris gave a demure, polite smile and shook his hand. No one could remember, much less pronounce, his last name anyway. He repeated the gesture and exchanged pleasantries with the others. They didn't exactly sound enthusiastic. Maybe... Maybe they were tired of him already. Oh, goodness. He wasn't that great of a spokesperson. His voice was too soft and he stumbled over his words. Sometimes his accent would slip in out of nervous habit. Couldn't they have chosen someone better? Someone more suited for a job as a consultant?
It's best to get this over with. He didn't want to be a burden.
“I'd, uhm, like to get started as soon as possible. If you don't mind, could I see the papers--”
A shock wave reverberated through his bones and chattered his teeth. The lights flickered. A chorus of voices cried out in unison around him. He stumbled, caught off guard and off balance. Equipment rattled on the tables in unison and paperwork scattered onto the floor. Metal groaned and shrieked as pipes hissed out in pain. The fire alarm wailed in his ears, starting off softly and reaching a crescendo.
"Боже мой...!"
Toris clamped his hands over his ears, scrambling for cover under the nearest table. His heart thumped painfully fast in his chest. His stomach lurched upward and then dropped to his toes like a lead weight. Thoughts scattered through his mind like leaves. Had there been a lab accident? No-- this was something different. Something far more serious.
"I-Is everyone a-alright?"
No answer.
They probably couldn't hear him. From the looks of it, they had been badly shaken... but unharmed for the most part... but what about the others in the building? Wasn't there an event going on in the floors below? Ah, goodness. What a mess. He... He had to do something.
He cleared his throat, straining to keep his voice from being drowned by the alarm.
“V-Vhere do you keep your supplies for emergencies?”
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Post by Deleted on Jul 2, 2013 10:26:40 GMT -8
Matthew was near enough to hear the ear shattering boom. He instinctively turned his head towards the source of the noise. He could see the plume of smoke rising between the tall buildings of the financial district just around the corner. The smoke was black and getting bigger. Where there's smoke there's fire. How big the fire was that had created that much smoke, he didn't want to know. He couldn't imagine what was happening inside the thick of it. For a moment he stood still and watched like the pedestrians around him. Horror dawned on him when he realized that the explosion had come from Maximantics Corp. The coffee he had went out to buy fell from his hand and stained his shoes. A sound from his earpiece snapped him out of it. He didn't realize he had been holding his breath.
"Up close, the situation looks pretty bleak right now." He listened carefully. The sound was crackled with static and he couldn't recognize who it was. "Many of the upper floors look completely on fire. I don't know how many people are still in here, but there was a party going on up there."
Matthew swallowed his nerves and ran towards the pillar of smoke. With ease he slipped through the distraught crowds of people on the streets. He could hear a siren wailing somewhere, getting closer, he hoped. Most people ran away from the source of the explosion. It was a battle scene straight from a Hollywood movie. They hadn't exaggerated how dramatic and chaotic the situation was. Shards of broken glass littered the streets around the building, crunching beneath his every footstep. A fire raged on the upper floors and crowds of people were running here and there, terrified and shocked beyond measure.
People with soot-blackened face shambled out of the main entrance of the building. They cried for help or just someone to clutch on. He calmed a terrified woman who were shaking so hard that she was having difficulties walking away. Patiently he led her to safety. With a smile he assured her that everything was going to be okay. He knew that it was a hollow promise, but she met his eyes and nodded, trying very hard to get herself together. Matthew smiled apologetically and ran back. She and a lot of the people that had made it out still needed help, he thought. The only thing that stopped him from helping them was the wail of sirens that was fast approaching. 'Okay, calm yourself down. Those people are going to get taken care of. There are still people inside that damned building. People that are struggling to survive,' he thought as he made his way through the main entrance.
The lobby was filled with smoke. Most had already evacuated the bottom level. The upper floors were the ones reported to have suffered the worst of the explosion. He put his handkerchief to his mouth and nose, so that he could breathe better while making his way up through the thick smoke.
"Can any one hear me? I'm inside the building. Does anyone need assistance?," he called out to his earpiece. "Where are your locations?"
A thought suddenly came up in Matthew's mind. In all the chaos outside he hadn't had the chance to think about it, but as his mind began to think straight, he realized something. Maximantic's plans. The Explosion. It all horrifyingly made sense. A new priority came up, but how was he going to get to those plans?
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Post by Deleted on Aug 24, 2013 3:32:22 GMT -8
| HOW AM I GONNA BE AN OPTIMIST ABOUT THIS? |
He was given a quick, generic answer. The interview was quickly cut short by a clatter of glass aimed (and successfully hit) Sir Arthur William Kirkland. He, with his news reporter reflexes, was able to take out his camera and snap a shot. One of the usually cold-headed heir. One of the now bleeding head of the Labour Party. THe next reaction would obviously be to choose a side of the conflict to explore and write about. His first choice would be to go ask Lukas Bondevik his side of the story. The one who did the action is usually the side you want to hear from, even if Arthur Kirkland was an iconic man. Bondevik was his own brand of iconic.
He attempted to jostle his way trough the crowd to keep up with Bondevik, yet it seemed as if his interview with Bondevik was not going to happen. Feliciano had good speed, but going through a crowd (and a good looking crowd a that) was a different story.
After having lost Bondevik, Feliciano decidedto be around the general area where the Labour Party members had gathered in reaction to their leader's assault. Feliciano noted down who happened to gather around. Michael Collins, the most eligible bachelor out of th group, a half-Romanian Brit, and a truly passionate man, determined to purge the world of organized crime. Ludwig Beilschmidt, a half-German Brit who had a wonderful physique, an even more wonderful work ethic, he is known as one of the "Uncorruptable Three", consisting of Michael Collins, the Revolution, Arthur Kirkland, the Excalibur, and Ludwig himself, the West. Of course, this wasn't an official title, but the press had come up with the titles. In less coloquial terms, you can refer to Michael Collins as "Da Sexy Beast", Arthur Kirkland as "The Consulting Freak" and Ludwig as "General Terminator". Of course, that was in the less sophisticated circles that tended to rate on attractiveness. Clara Huang, a Singaporean woman with a dainty body and a genius mind, whose young stature stood out in this crowd. It really must be noted that she was much smarter than everyone in this room. Johanna Sorrensdottir, a half-Icelandic Brit with family connections to Bondevik and Maximantics, an ice queen, understandably went to search for her cousin. The Labour Party was as attractive, both in progressive heroism for the country and in appearances. How bright the future looks.
"Would you like me to try and erase any photographic evidence of this accident? It's what I do best," Huang said.
Feliciano put a protective hand on his camera and decided it best be a timeto enjoy himself. He already found material to write. Get some eye-witnes observations from others, and he'll go far. The thought of having his camera confiscated was a bit unassuring. It best be time to get a bit more drunk on the ladys' perfumes and the wines and cocktails. He kept a bit of a wary eye on the gathered Labour Party members, but he loosened up more and more as he flirted his way to some information.
He chatted up an architectual student who was currently studying at Westminster and was interning for Maximantics to learn about their sophisticated and advnaced architectual methods and their holdings in Norway and other countries. The Maximantics building itself was iconic and held some architectual wonder. She was selected to be a test subject for a new field they were testing out. Dream manipulation, exploration, and how it would relate to information technologies. Her job was to build worlds for dreams from what Feliciano could understand. It seemed a bit complicated, with words such as "dream layers", "limbo", and "incepton" thrown around, and so Feliciano decided not to ask to many questions.
She was attractive for a catch. Perhaps he'd have wanted to take her out to dinner had itnot been for the shaking of the chandelier and the surounding shrieks of terror. The sound of chandelier on a small Asian body was not a nice sound. The first reaction he had in mind was to panic. Which he did for a good five minutes.
"Oh dio mio, I am to die here without your ah mercy! Please bless your kind servent, please let me live please let me..."
After that, his fight or flight instinct kicked in. Unfortunately, that meant he would take flight. Which he did. Quite well, actually. When he was in his track running years, he had set his school's track record. His running endurance was also quite admirable. He would have done much better if his vision was not clouded by panic. He ran himself right into Ludwig Beilschmidt, who was attempting o lift a chandelier off Miss Huang.
"M-mi dispiace, Mister Beilschmidt!" he trembled. CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE
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Post by Deleted on Sept 2, 2013 14:53:33 GMT -8
Okay. Okay, Arthur, calm breaths now. You’ll be fine, calm down.
His focus flickered from Michael, to Ludwig, to the shattered glass, and back again, mind racing and vision uncertain. He didn’t register the two of them leave the room and in the back of his mind he willed himself to move already. His body was frozen and his heart was in his throat. He felt like he was suffocating—
Then he wasn’t. He blinked. His brain shifted its gears and he could think straight, see clearly, and the blood was pounding in his ears. He sucked in a breath and held it. One, two, three, exhale. Arthur was unharmed. He could help—he had to help, somehow.
He stumbled out into the main room, not yet having found his footing, and had to bite back an exclamation at what he saw. Wreckage and panic, people injured and dying and he knew he’d see this, but he hadn’t quite expected it to be as vivid as it was, as though someone had taken off the cloth that covered his eyes and shone a bright light in his face, expecting him not to flinch away.
Arthur didn’t pause to look for the others. There were people upstairs—he’d seen the schematics for the building and knew that the labs were up there. Labs filled with volatile and dangerous chemicals and equipment—and who’s bright fucking idea was it to stick the labs on the upper floors anyway? They’d all be forgotten up there, those that were injured or lost or trapped, and not everyone could stay down here to help. Someone like him, well, he’d just get in the way, he supposed. He could help out elsewhere. Besides, there would be something to help, wouldn’t there? Anything at all?
Arthur made a dash to the stairs, then froze on the way there. “Fuck!” he spat, and glanced around for Lukas. The kid had a condition, didn’t he? All this smoke and stress wouldn’t bode well. With watering eyes, he peered among the throng of panicking people. There was a crowd around the fallen chandelier, and he caught site of a familiar blond head that had to be Ludwig and—hang on, was that Sadik? He wasn’t aware that Sadik would be here. Hell, he was told that Sadik would be out sick. The day just kept getting better and better. Arthur wasn’t looking forward to what would happen afterwards (god, days and days of paperwork and injured workers being out for the count; and if any of his people died, he didn’t know what he would do).
His eyes moved along the row of people he knew. When they locked on to what was the source of attention, he almost fell over. Clara was under that chandelier. Arthur bit back an exclamation. He didn’t want to surprise them and make them drop all that glass back onto Clara, who had to be in enough pain already. So he weaved his way between people pushing to get to the stairs, making for the rest of the group.
Arthur didn’t want to think of the damage she’d sustained. That goddamn shit piece of decoration weighed tons and glass was shattered all over the floor, waiting to trip anyone who wasn’t watching and give them a face-full of shards. So he made his way as carefully as he could at the speed he was going, the world blurring around him as his friends became the only concern he had.
He was nearly there, too, when some auburn haired idiot (and there was no other word to describe the man) ran right into Ludwig.
Ludwig, who was helping lift up the chandelier. The chandelier that would land right back on top of Clara if one of them slipped. Bloody fucking hell.
Adrenaline pulsing through his blood, Arthur launched himself forward with speed and strength he didn’t know he possessed, and found himself standing next to Ludwig, bracing the man’s weight against so he wouldn’t fall over and holding onto the edge of the chandelier before it could slip back onto Clara. Fuck, the thing was heavy. He didn’t understand how Sadik and Ludwig could hold this thing up, as strong as they were.
If they hadn’t been in the middle of holding up a rather heavy piece of glass décor, Arthur would have had plenty of words to say to the man—not to mention that the camera hanging from his neck very obviously screamed “I’m a reporter.” Even now, Arthur was more than willing to shout every profanity he knew, public image be damned, but if he did that, he’d surely let go of the chandelier. So Arthur held his tongue and concentrated instead.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2013 15:55:30 GMT -8
With chaos hanging in the air, Liesel continued up the stairs. The running was nonstop and her legs were damn near on fire, and she could only pray that by the time she actually reached the people upstairs she wouldn’t be too late. It was dangerous enough going into a burning building – a burning building that was several dozen stories tall, in fact – but rescue had to act quick to get everyone out before the place started to implode.
"Can any one hear me? I'm inside the building. Does anyone need assistance?," The device in Liesel’s ear crackled to life. It was a voice she recognized, her Canadian coworker Matthew. Good, good… she wasn’t the only one here. Liesel was entirely ignorant to how many agents were going to drop in, but with that warning from the lab blaring into everyone’s ears Liesel desperately hoped more would show up soon. "Where are your locations?" Matthew continued.
“I’m on floor…” Liesel glanced up at the sign next to the door, pausing her run to speak clearly into the received. “Floor forty-one. The soiree is on floor fifty. I’m not sure where the explosions hit first, but we need to get up there quickly.”
Just those few seconds were enough time wasted. She continued.
“I didn’t take the elevator in case the system was compromised. If the upper floors are damaged the mechanisms might be broken – or breaking.”
Forty-two… forty-three…
What felt like several eternities finally passed as Liesel finally made it up the stairs. The door that connected the stairwell to the rest of the floor was left ajar, as if someone had already fled the scene. Liesel nudged the door open wider with her foot and cautiously glanced in at the scene. Smoke filled the room, and people lay under debris or were sitting in corners, too frozen with fear to move. Tempted to pull out her weapon – just in case – she decided not to. Having a weapon out when so many people were already panicking would do her efforts no good.
The ceiling was cracked and falling, burning in some places. Yelling and screaming, she could barely hear herself think and would have no luck yelling over the panic. Pushing open the door Liesel took a cautious step into the room, her foot brushing a body who had just barely made it to the door. They sat up against the wall, looking back at the scene in terror.
“Hey—... hey!” Liesel knelt down in front of them and commanded the man’s attention with her eyes. “You need to get out of here, if you stay you might die!”
He nodded slowly. The shock hadn’t let yet him, but he was conscious someone was speaking to him. He didn’t move though. Liesel looked over her shoulder to glance about the room. Some distance away across the main hall was a group crowded around a fallen piece of the ceiling. She couldn’t make out faces yet, not through the smoke, but if someone else was up here helping she wouldn’t go over there just yet.
She spoke into her receiver again. “I’m at the site of the soiree. The doors to the stairwell are unblocked, but people aren’t using any of the escape routes. I have people here who are just… sitting.” But there were plenty more who were not. She might need help. She couldn’t carry people up and down fifty flights of stairs.
“Stay here, alright?” Liesel told the man on the floor. He groaned in reply, but said nothing else. He wasn’t about to go anywhere.
Stepping over debris she crossed the room, checking people as she went. Some merely needed a boost to get back on their feet, while many more flew past her in an attempt to escape. Mr. Bondevik’s parties were usually full of people… the bunch she was seeing surely wasn’t the entire guest list. She had to hope most of them got out on their own okay, but then she mentally berated them for helping no one else.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 15, 2013 21:14:48 GMT -8
Trouble came in many forms to Kiku Honda and generally speaking, he was used to it. He'd come sharply close to death (mostly through poverty) on the streets of Japan, watched his family fall apart, been a top field agent in the MI6, been backstabbed (both figuratively and literally), and nearly become paralyzed for life. Yes, Kiku had seen plenty of trouble, more than enough.
But trouble still came, as it almost always inevitably did. Kiku had learned to expect it. This time though, trouble struck before Kiku had time to react.
He'd been at the soiree as an obligation as his status in the government. Usually, Kiku took this time to form connections, to establish who might be crucial in helping him along. This time though, Kiku allowed himself to fade a little more. He wasn't the most socially active person and sometimes, he wondered what he was doing in the government. As an agent, he'd had a lot more...purpose. And he'd been undoubtedly good. If it weren't for his injury...
He'd been jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of shattering glass and a very stunned Arthur Kirkland standing, bewildered. His hair was drenched in a dark liquid that soaked through his suit and there was a nasty cut on the side of his face. In the corner of his eye, Kiku saw another familiar face. Lukas. His face was contorted in anger and Kiku felt mild discomfort. Anger meant mistakes, a loss of control of oneself. It was plainly obvious right in front of him.
Several people rushed to help Arthur. Kiku stood up and placed his glass of champagne on the table next to him. The soiree was almost certainly ruined. There was almost no way to come back from something like that.
That's when the second blow struck.
An ear-splitting explosion came from above. Instinctively, Kiku dove under the table, just barely avoiding a chunk of ceiling. Screams erupted and the shattered glass against Arthur's head seemed like a minor scrape at most. His training kicked in and Kiku came out from the table, surveying the situation. The explosion had clearly come from above. Panicked people were everywhere, running madly towards the stairs. High heels were abandoned, suits thrown across the floor as the ceiling continued to crack. Several people were injured and...
A woman, a very familiar woman, lay trapped underneath the large chandelier. Tears rolled down her face and she lay motionless. Somehow, two of the men were holding up the chandelier. Someone ran into them and one of them--Ludwig, his name was--stumbled. Kiku watched in shock as Arthur Kirkland slid over to help.
For a brief moment, chaos consumed Kiku. Then he shook his head. It'd only been two years since he left the MI6. He knew what to do.
Kiku ran through the crowd, dodging the frantic crowds who didn't even bother pausing to help the injured. A woman stood, sobbing and screaming in the corner. Kiku's eyes darted around. There were some bad injuries, but the woman's was the worse. As he got closer, he managed to make out her face more clearly.
Clara.
It was unsurprising that Kiku knew most of the Asians that worked with him. Clara was one of them. Intelligent and confident, Kiku respected more than some of his other fellow peers. She was a strong woman. To see her crying on the floor just enforced the severity of the situation on Kiku even further. Kiku raced up to them. Already, he could see the men's hands slipping, drenched with sweat. Arthur's scrape looked even worse up close and Kiku grimaced.
"Hold tight!" he yelled. There was just enough space under the chandelier for Clara's body. He couldn't quite tell if her legs were still pinned under the chandelier but there wasn't much time to contemplate the thought of what would happen if that was the case. Kiku usually wasn't worried, but he could feel his inner calm slipping slightly. He rounded around to see the situation.
Thank goodness. Somehow, her legs were free.
"I'm going to try to get her out." It wasn't a question, it was a fact. There was no time to lose. Kiku could already see the chandelier dropping back on Clara. The risk was high, but if they left her there, it was almost certain that she would die.
Kiku slid onto his stomach. "Clara," he said loudly. "I'm going to get you out of there. Try to stay calm for me. This will probably hurt, but if you stay calm, it'll be over quickly and we can get you to help. Can you do that for me?" He tried to put as much conviction in his voice as possible. His main worry was Clara's back. Kiku had sustained a back injury before and with an accident like this, it was almost inevitable that she had hurt her spine somewhere. That might numb the pain, but Kiku would rather have Clara in pain and her spine intact than numb with a broken spine.
Just a few more minutes, Kiku begged in his mind. Just a few more minutes.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 17, 2013 5:40:56 GMT -8
There was a heaviness in the air, a sort of panic, a sort of crisis. The look in his eyes said "This wasn't a normal attack." All the more reason to lose your head, all the more reason to worry about the future. Anything Lukas would try to do would not add to her "cool". She was simply not the woman of crisis she appeared to be. A weight in his chest was a weight in her mind. Stability for him was stability for her. No matter how much she would like to untie her fate from his, it was impossible: She would always live under the shadow of the Bondevik prince. It had been instilled into her, pounded into her, it was made certain that she was part of the Bondevik unit, not of her own. He was attempting to steady his breathing, but that only corroborated to the fact that not everything was fine. "...Whether I'm fine or... not can we wait until we... get out...""We'll get out... I hope we can... M-Mister Collins will do something, he is an expert at handling these kinds of situations..."'I'll be fine... Everything will be alright... After this I'll just go to the hospital, no big deal... Not the first time I had to do so because of this... It's just another attack, it will go away in a bit...'
No, don't say that. You are obviously contradicting yourself, and this is a public event and you never... People can't see you this way. You know the implications. She was certainly assured that he cooperated with her in moving him through the crowd, but this certainly didn't feel like anything she has ever done. She has never lead him. It was always supposed to be the other way around. But did he ever lead her? "Hey can you...slow down a bit?" She unfortunately couldn't hear him through the pounding in her ear drums, perhaps the sound of her heart. A healthy, steady heartbeat, if not a bit overactive. Something that she should have perhaps felt lucky to have. She felt the grip of his hand slipping away. She attempted to tighten her grip, but inevitably, he slipped through her fingers and fell to the ground. Hard. He struggled to get up on his knees, she frozen in her fear, unable to speak, unable to know what to do. Fear consumes you fast, sucks you deep down, drowns you, and you only remain in shock of what had just happened. And she would only feel shame that she easily reached this state. The prince has fallen. The kingdom is in crisis. What do you do when you can't fight? Do you fall with him?She was fished out of her panic when Michael had grabbed her out of the water by the elbow. Her eyes began to process instead of panic, and what she had processed had finally brought tears to her eyes. Not a sound, not a waterfall. Water glazed her violet blue eyes, giving them a shine. "What's wrong with him? Did he get hit?"She tried to form the words, but she felt it all being held back. "Johanna, will you please be a good girl? Lukas... he is a special boy and if anyone were to know of his condition... we'll be in trouble. Can you promise me that?" She nodded politely, as she was expected. "You may never tell anyone. And if you did, I will have to disown you and there will be consequences. None of it will be my choice, but just promise me you will be good? You will never tell anyone what happened yesterday?" The idea of being disowned was a frightening one. Yesterday's happenings had been a bit too frightening and she couldn't exactly put it in her own words what had happened. What exactly did happen yesterday, anyways? "I won't tell anyone, mommy.""Good.""He simply... he's not breathing right... I don't know."But she knew very well. All too well. She was only going to be grateful that Collins would do this. "Are you all right? And have you seen Clara anywhere?""I'm fine, and Clara? I'm not so—"
She grimaced at the sight of Clara Huang pinned under a chandelier, unable to react and helpless. Clara was always a strong girl to Johanna. In fact, Johanna had to feel a bit of awe and admiration for the young lady. Johanna could see a bit of herself in Clara, and a bit of the self that she wanted to be. But to see her apprehended like that... no. She followed Collins to Clara, wishing that she could do something. Anything. "Clara, please hang in there..." she muttered quietly.
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