Maximantics Corp.

[Deleted]

"Check it deep, breddas! Dem bandalus left us a buss box!" Khenan seemed to have temporarily lost is grasp on proper English. Liesel stood in the stairwell just barely off the ground of the fiftieth floor, and turned back to Feliks with a slight shrug of her shoulders. she had absolutely no idea what Khenan was rambling about and looked to Feliks for aid in understanding which, surely, he was unable to give.

There was a small pause. "Agent Santiago...?" Liesel spoke softly into her mouthpiece. "Could you please repeat that?"

"Apologies. There is a bomb on the twenty fifth floor. Repeat, there is a bomb on the twenty fifth floor. Change of plans. We can't wait for the regulars to get here, we need to evacuate these people now. I'll see what I can do about the explosive. Over."

Liesel froze. Oh God, Feliks, did you hear that? "... Acknowledged, will proceed with evacuation. Keep us informed, and good luck. Over."

Liesel made her way back down the stairs and looked back into the soiree room, frowning. "Feliks, we might need to split up. There are no other agents up here and these people need to get out as soon as possible. I know Mr. Bondevik is important but so are the rest of his guests. We have several government officials here."

Not bothering to wait for a response, Liesel pat him on the shoulder. Despite the confident expression on her face, the light in her eyes was nervous. This was going downhill very quickly and unless Khenan defused the bomb there was going to be a massive list of casualties before the night was over. "Do what you can, I'm going to go back to my original plan and help get these people to the bottom floor. We don't have time to argue."

With the batch of familiar faces crowding around the fallen chandelier, Liesel decided talking to the bigger group was probably the better option. Most of them looked like they were in relatively prime condition to help. She was the only agent up there and couldn't carry everyone out of her own. Pushing her way past the fire and fallen debris the finally found herself next to Arthur Kirkland, Ludwig Beilschmidt, and various others with whom she was not quite entirely familiar.

"We're going to need a lot of help." Liesel spoke urgently. "Another explosive has been planted on one of the lower floors. I don't know what the countdown is, but it's imperative that we evacuate immediately. We do not have time to wait for assistance."

[Deleted]

Khenan gave the room a good sweep over with his glock. No hostiles. Thank the powers that be for that, at least. He really didn't have time for a shoot out. He started looking around, to see if there were any heavy duty scissors around. He didn't want to try and cut a wire with safety scissors, after all. Again, good fortune smiled down on the Jamaican, his eyes moving over a door with "Maintenance" written over it. "Dey gotta have cuttas in dere." he reasoned, moving to the door. He jiggled the handle a few times, but he already knew what he'd find. It was locked.

"Fine, we gun do dis rough." The Jamaican took a step back, then stepped forward and slammed his foot against the door. It didn't budge. "Fucking ting, open!" he demanded, kicking it again. "Damn ting opens da oddah way! Bumbaclot!" He swore. He didn't have time to look for maintenance keys or to try and pick the lock. So he did the only thing he could do. He stepped to the side of the door and drew his gun. "Dis is some American movie bullshit." he muttered. He squeezed the trigger, and the slug tore straight through the lock. He fired once more, just to make sure. Holstering his gun, he tapped his headset. "Don't be alarmed. Had to fire a shot to break into the maintenance closet." he explained, pulling the door open.

There they were. Sweet, beautiful, God-sent wire cutters, tucked into a tool belt hanging up on the wall. Khenan pulled them out, and started his way back out to the stairwell. Now for the hard part. It wasn't that he didn't know how. Somewhere between teaching him to use every fire arm ever created and how to kill a man with his bare hands, the instructors had taught him the basics of bomb disposal. But that didn't make it any easier. Khenan stopped to actually study the bomb for a moment. Standard C4 set up. One wire would stop the timer. One would set it off. The other two were likely dummies. Then again, they could also set it off. Without the right tools, there was no telling which wire was the right one. The wrong snip could kill them all.

And with that, Khenan yanked the blasting caps out of the C4 and calmly tossed the detonator aside. "Amateurs." Had he taken the time to inspect it from the start, he wouldn't have even had to worry about the cutters. He tapped his headset once more. "This is Agent Santiago. The bomb's been disarmed. They were using standard C4. I guess they didn't expect anyone to actually find it. Proceed with the evacuation, there could be more bombs hidden in the building. I'm coming up to assist." And with that, he was up the stairs again.

[Deleted]

As people started to evacuate towards the exits Eirik's puffin returned, the creature taking him by the arm and gently tugging him to his feet. "Move along" he said gruffly, the puffin sounding stressed from the whole situation and finding itself in great need of a vacation from all of the madness. But he had a responsibility to the small Bondevik and knew that it would not come until his retirement. "You have to leave."

Eirik slowly rose from where he sat, using his wing for support as he shakily made his way towards the exit. He had no idea how much time had passed but his ears were still ringing from the blast. It had come so suddenly, forcing the breath from his lungs as he was overtaken by surprise and the screams. The thoughts were hopelessly repetitive, but they were all that his mind could focus on no matter how he tried to purge them.

"Not fast enough" his Puffin squawked gruffly, hooking a wing under his legs and pulling the teenager up to his chest securely as he paved a way through the people towards the exit. Eirik protested weakly to the treatment, quite comfortable against the puffin's plush chest but not wanting to be viewed unfavorably because of it. The creature responded with a wing to his ear, drowning out the shrill voices of the injured that made him queasy. Casting a weary glance about the room he let his eyes slide close, letting the darkness keep his ignorance.

He didn't want to know what was happening, it frightened him and he was far too stubborn and prideful to admit it. Watching a film or reading a novel of such events did not do them justice, the hero could keep a cool head and not be perturbed by the people around him seeking safety. Eirik instead felt anxious to the point that he felt sick, he didn't feel very heroic.

[Deleted]

Nothing made the route from Queen Victoria Street to the Maximantics Corp. building more difficult and frustrating than the panicking crowds of people running in exactly the opposite direction. Naturally, of course, the warning signals in their brains were telling them to get away from the big smoking almost-wreckage before it came down and landed upon them. Marko's brain, on the other hand, was telling him to get to the building as fast as he possibly could; no questions asked, little regard for his own safety, his eyes not even on the path ahead because his pager was currently buzzing over and over, which kind of felt like he'd manage to trap an angry wasp in his shirt pocket. SIS was expecting an immidiate response; it could have been from Iain, it could have been from another higher-up, but he didn't know. He didn't even look at it, because he knew the situation – he'd seen it happen, right above him, and hell, he really didn't want to deal with this right after chasing that moronic bus driver like he had done but there wasn't a choice right now.

In the pocket with his pager was a small earpiece, which took some time for him to get into his ear and actually turn on properly. Even when he'd managed that, all the while weaving in and out of the rush of people against him, all he heard was dull noise. He tapped at the side several times in annoyance... Either the communication network was just too busy (highly probable) or the signal was currently abysmal (also highly probable). Or both.

Regardless of that, he was well aware he'd taken too long to actually get to the building itself, and by then his legs were threatening to give out, and there was a painful stitch in his right side that was taunting him for probably being a little too old to even attempt to sprint through the streets of London like that by now. Thankfully he stopped at the wall bordering the building's grounds so that he coud flash identification at the police trying to cordon off the area, instead of actually trying to scale the wall. He'd had enough attempts at that sort of thing for one day.

Just as he was granted access, the earpiece crackled once again, before it finally seemed as if it wanted to cooperate, allowing a transmission through. “This is Agent Santiago. The bomb's been disarmed. They were using standard C4. I guess they didn't expect anyone to actually find it. Proceed with the evacuation, there could be more bombs hidden in the building. I'm coming up to assist."

“This is Doctor Iliev. I'm at the entrance to the building; what's the status?”

TAGGING: AGENTS

MADE BY CYANIDE CANDY ✖

[Deleted]

Word Count: 343
Tags:

"Let's get her out of here."

Kiku didn't like the sound of what was happening upstairs. Agents--it was easy to tell if you bothered to look--raced past him. Despite their obvious attempts at staying calm, they were clearly worried about something, something that Kiku would've been worried about if his priority hadn't been Clara at the moment.

Ludwig--Kiku recognized him somehow though he'd never spoken to the man--moved quickly, managing to secure wood beams and taking off his (and in a moment, Arthur's as well) jacket.

"Alright." Kiku's voice didn't waver. He glanced at Clara's silent form. "We have to move quickly." Why was he saying this? It was a way to keep calm, yes. That was it.

Leaning over, Kiku took Clara's pulse and made sure she was still breathing. Her breaths were rapid and shallow. Her face was pale, drained of color. This wasn't good.

"On the count of three, we're going to have to lift Clara onto this stretcher." Kiku took off his jacket and loosened his tie. He placed the jacket on top of Clara to keep her warm--the fire was hot but she was more likely to develop hypothermia than heat stroke. Not to mention you died quicker from the cold.

"Once we've got Clara onto the stretcher, we'll lift the stretcher together. The four of us each take a corner. We'll get her as far down as possible and away from the wreckage. Hopefully Medical Services will not be far." Kiku was unsure if he was saying this for the others or for himself. "If they're not around, I say we get her at least five floors down, if not more. We shouldn't move her more than that or we'll probably do more harm than good."

Kiku didn't pause for objections. He couldn't even hear anything anymore. It was a determination that filled him, a feeling he hadn't felt in years. "Alright?" he asked, looking at each of the men around him. He placed his hands gently under her arms one more time.

"Okay. One, two, three."

made by MISSO on IOF

[Deleted]

Clara had been pulled out from under the chandelier and together, he, Sadik, and Ludwig dropped it. The already broken glass shattered further and sent pieces skittering across the debris filled floor. He stumbled back, haggard, breath short. The adrenaline was fading from his veins and he felt an ache set in his arms and shoulders.

He'd gladly get out of here with just those pains, though. Soreness was nothing compared to what Clara had.

But Arthur didn't really know the extent of Clara's injuries. He'd never been in a disaster situation before, he'd never had the misfortune of seeing the broken body of someone he knew laid out in front of him, barely alive.

So when he really looked at Clara, he froze. The color drained out of his face and any semblance of serenity in his mind abandoned him as his thoughts derailed and screeched to a halt. Time stopped. There was no noise other than the pound of his own heart in his ears. There was so much blood. He felt like throwing up. He'd passed by so many other people before, all dead, but he hadn't stopped to look at their faces or their wounds. There was Clara, unconscious, the odds stacked against her even making it out alive. A potential casualty.

Arthur looked around the room slowly. Blank eyes stared at him from contorted faces.

Oh God.

He blinked. He was looking at Ludwig. Ludwig was saying something to him, but Arthur didn't know what it was. Then Ludwig was looking at him expectantly and Michael handed his jacket and tie to the man. Arthur's brain was sluggish in catching on. When it finally did, the moment had passed and Arthur stared dumbly as everyone did something and he stood there doing nothing.

Breathe.

He was already breathing. Short, shallow, fast.

He couldn't move.

Liesel's voice came from next to him and he almost jumped out of his own skin—and surely would have, too, had he been able to react. Instead, he glanced at her, numb. Her voice barely penetrated the fog that had engulfed his mind.

"We're going to need a lot of help. Another explosive has been planted on one of the lower floors. I don't know what the countdown is, but it's imperative that we evacuate immediately. We do not have time to wait for assistance."

"Oh," was Arthur's emotionless response.

[Deleted]

Finally. There is was. The 50th damn floor. Khenan wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead as he ran up the final flight of stairs. He came to the door, but paused. He couldn't be hasty. This was still a hostile area. Pulling out his glock, he stood by the door and slowly opened it too and looked inside. He couldn't see anyone who looked dangerous. He could see Agent Friedmann talking to one of the guests. It looked like the only danger imminent was the danger of the building collapsing.

Khenan pushed the door open and stepped inside, giving the room a sweep with his eyes before holstering his gun. God, this didn't look good. The room looked like it could give way any second. The chandelier had fallen from the ceiling. Good thing it hadn't hit anyone. Of course, as always, the moment he assumed something wasn't as bad as it could have been, he was proven wrong. He could see the poor girl laid out on a stretcher. Wait.. Wasn't that... "Clara!?" What the hell was Clara doing here? There was no reason for her to be here! Unless... No. No, he wouldn't dare. He wouldn't. Oh, that bastard. He did.

Khenan leveled Sadik with a stare. He was going to kill him. Khenan Santiago was going to murder his boss, who just happened to be the Home Secretary of the UK. "...Agent Fieldmann." he stated, turning away from Sadik. Now wasn't the time for this. He approached Liesel, looking her over. She didn't seem any worse for the wear. "I need a sit rep. Where's  Agent Lukasiewicz? Did he start searching the upper floors?" he inquired.

[Deleted]

HOW AM I GONNA BE AN OPTIMIST ABOUT THIS?

The Italian was no good in crisis situations. It was a scientifically proven fact. Even his brother tended to be terrible in crisis situations. It was quite a shame that he didn't take after a man such as his grandfather. Of course, he could perhaps be a bit more helpful and stop with this panicking, stop running into people that aren't supposed to be ran into, but was he going to be helpful? The chance of that was a bit unlikely. He wasn't going to be motivated (or forced into) heroics the way that his brother was able to be coerced into. His instinct for self preservation was a strong one, most certainly.

"IT'S DANGEROUS IN HERE! Get out of here, go, before anyone else gets hurt!! Move!!" the British politician yelled in response.

The Italian trembled in response, his eyes widened with terror after hearing the obvious. He looked down at the heavy object that Ludwig appeared to be trying to lift, wondering just why the politician would be trying to lift the light fixture at this time. His eyes trailed down, realizing... there was a girl caught under the chandelier. She was in a critical condition, no doubt. She was perhaps the most injured person in the room at this point. She was losing consciousness from how it seemed, and the state of her legs...

He felt a great sense of desire to help in some way, to help alleviate the pain and get this girl to safety. He perhaps would have tried to help if his fear for his own life wasn't something that overweighed. He needed to get out of the building. He had no desire to die tonight. But he couldn't bear to watch other people die as well. He had rarely witnessed disaster, acts of violence, and near death experiences. But here it was. These were the kinds of things that the news reporters of the Crown Royale Gazette dealt with. These were the things that they exposed themselves to to raise awareness about such events. There was something in common with all those stories.

The body count could have been much lower without panic. Those that helped were often put at risk if they didn't have enough hands to help. They often went down with the victims.

"We're going to need a lot of help. Another explosive has been planted on one of the lower floors. I don't know what the countdown is, but it's imperative that we evacuate immediately. We do not have time to wait for assistance."

The politicians managed to remove the broken chandelier from the broken girl, the extent of her injuries quite frightening. It was good that she had lost consciousness. Feliciano couldn't imagine what kind of pain she would have to bear if she were conscious. They seemed to manage to get her onto a stretcher, but would that mean they would have enough time to bring her downstairs? The elevators were obviously not going to work. There were fifty stories to go down, unless someone knew a secret route. They weren't going to rush down those stairs with a person in that condition. And the talk of bombs being planted on lower floors...

But what could he do? These people were trained professionals. They knew what they were doing. They've dealt with crisis situations before. They would know how to fight off anyone that got in their way. What was he to do? He was simply media. Useless, pathetic media. Unless...

He grabbed his cell phone and slid through the contacts, to see if he still had the number.

Ahhh... here it is...

"Mr. Beilschmidt, I-I am sorry for running ah into you, but I think I could be of assistance, y-yes. I can see if I can get the media helicopter to fly and hover to this story. Mr. Evans at the paper owes me a favor, and there are supposed to be at least three helicopters hovering for media coverage right now. I-I think if he's able to get close enough, maybe the bella can be brought down that way."

Of course, there were risks to that. There was enough room to fit three other people into a media helicopter, and there usually was only one person flying them, but to get onto a helicopter while in mid-air...

Risky.

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE

[Feliks Łukasiewicz]

Feliks had gotten a little bit lost, and he didn't have time to be lost. There were people in danger, far too many of them, and how many of them could they save?

One crisis averted: he heard Khenan--er, Agent Santiago--talking over his earpiece about having disarmed the bomb that had been found. Feliks disregarded the information about exactly how it had been dealt with: he needed to figure out which crisis needed his assistance next. The evacuation sounded important, obviously. So did the gravely ill Bondevik. At least he could disregard that one bomb that Khenan had taken care of, and the group with the girl who had been hit by the chandelier seemed to have at least gotten her out from under it. Meanwhile, the man dressed as a large black-and-white seabird whom he had seen a few minutes before went by, carrying a rather small child to safety. The fewer crises, the better, not that he could reasonably expect any shortage of crises in a situation like this.

As for crises Feliks could do something about...

A voice crackled in his earpiece: “This is Doctor Iliev. I'm at the entrance to the building; what's the status?”

Feliks spoke into his own microphone, lowering his voice to the register he used for trying to be taken seriously again. “Agent Łukasiewicz here. We're evacuating the building; Iliev, you'll be most useful where you are. There may be more bombs. As it stands, there are a lot of injuries that'll need treatment, but it won't do much good to treat them if the building falls before they can get out.”

As he spoke, the young man was navigating the floor, pointing frightened civilians towards the safest exits and looking for the other agents. Finally, he came upon two familiar faces just in time to hear Khenan ask where Agent Łukasiewicz was.

“Agent Łukasiewicz is right here,” Feliks informed the Jamaican dryly. “I need someone to come with me to the upper floors. There's some guy who needs a medicine I've never heard of to save his life. Anyone with me?”