closed; i really really wanna know

[adiuvio]

who: John "Baba Yaga" Wick, Spike, Cassandra Anderson, and Eddie Thawne
what: Burlesque show turned bar brawl turned uptown shoot-out turned getaway
when: Mid-Butterfly Effect
where: The Riverview Regent Hotel
warnings: Violence, grisly imagery, language, reckless behaviour & general mayhem


[ 9:15PM
Injured: 12
Dead: 5

An unlucky man at the Riverview Regent, and his equally unlucky friends, make the mistake of disrespecting the companion of a tall stranger in a dark suit. That stranger is John Wick. He is given no option but to teach the unlucky man, and his equally unlucky friends, a lesson in etiquette. A group of well-dressed gangbangers who have a stake on the hotel's turf join the fray with knives and concealed carry pistols. John kills five with a bottle of middle-grade whiskey bourbon. Four of the men die due to blood loss caused by severe lacerations to the stomach and face, and one by drowning.

9:32PM
Injured: 16
Dead: 6

The remaining patrons of the Riverview Regent's bar pour out into the lobby. John Wick walks behind them with a gun in one hand, and a man in the other. Two patrol cars and their respective police wait on the other side of the doors. They're too afraid to shoot through the crowd. John isn't. He disguises himself with the body of his hostage, who doesn't bear any resemblance to (himself) the described shooter, and takes out the officers from behind with close-proximity shots to their upper body armour. His hostage is killed in the skirmish, and discarded. All but one of the officers limps away to a safe distance to call for backup, the last is out cold. John drops him into the trunk of his car and closes it.

9:40PM - Present
Injured: N/A
Dead: N/A

John hears another siren a block or two over. He sets himself up on the hood of one patrol car with an abandoned police-issue rifle, and shoots out the tires as soon as he's sighted them, using his last bullets to send the third, and with any luck, final, patrol car careening into the nearby pedestrian railing. There isn't a real police presence uptown, where the crime rate is low, and the security is high. John doesn't kill cops if he can help it, uniforms are more trouble dead than alive, but he's not in the mood to go to jail.

Besides, he has a reputation to maintain. ]

Good evening, officers. Can I help you?

Comments

Timeline: Random interjections throughout the night - staring with 9:15

[idolpire]

[It happened almost too quickly for Spike to process it. One moment he'd been flirting with the notion of expanding his horizons in a way he wouldn't have considered, the next he was watching his partner of the evening flipping a man over onto a table by the lightest of grips on his wrists and slamming a bottle four times into his body before he was moving on to the next body swinging wildly at him.

Frankly, it was the most arousing thing Spike had seen in his life.

And what of it if he happened to seal his lips over bleeding wounds during the fray? Waste not want not. There was enough of it on the floor that it was doubtful anyone would notice a pint or two missing, and the taste of fresh, hot blood was enough to make the headache worth it when he picked up a chair and threw it across the floor at a man charging at John while his back was turned.]

Sneaky twat.

[causational]

[The last thing Eddie had expected among the sudden upsurge of calls regarding domestic and public disturbances was to hear his mentor and trainer's name - public disturbance, grievous bodily harm, suspect is John Wick - to come up on the callout. Hadn't expected that he and Cassandra would have to go to back up another team that got taken out.

As they pull up to the known location, Eddie's heart is beating fast, he feels a little short of breath with something like panic and shock, but he's keeping it together. Keeping it cool. At least, he is until well-timed and well-aimed shots take out the tires.

The car skids furiously, weaving back and forth across the road in dizzying loops, the smell of burned rubber making him nauseous, and then the car flips and crashes into one of other patrol cars. For a moment, Eddie's completely disoriented, his head aching a little, and he tries to get his bearings while he mentally follows the trickle of hot blood down his forehead. Then he registers a lot of things at the same time - that the drivers' side of the car, where he's sitting, is pinned against the other patrol car, he can't get out, and that there's a good chance the whole thing is gonna catch on fire.

Coughing violently, he undoes his seatbelt and starts making movements to get out, glancing over toward where Cassandra is still seated in the passenger's side.]

Cassandra? You okay? Get...get out if you can!

[wronganswer]

[ After the day she'd had being trained by him-- the duration of it, the intensity, and particularly the emotional ending-- it's the last thing she'd expected, either. You start to think you know someone after a day like that, and yet maybe she should stop being surprised. Anderson should just assume everyone has a violent criminal in there somewhere.

It's not as if her first thought will jump to alternate universe, after all.

She's presently regretting that police here don't have body armor as part of standard issue uniform, because she feels naked without it, however armed she is. She has to keep her telepathy on complete lockdown in preparation for encountering people in severe pain and distress, and it leaves her grim and focused, more a Judge than she's been any day since she showed up.

She braces herself with har arms as the tires go out and the car goes flying, preempting her from trying to return fire. Everything next happens so fast it's a blur, everything in her shutting down but instincts, reality returning in fuzzy bits and indistinct pieces until it rushes in all at once in a flood. It's loud nearby with the sirens and people running, other officers trying (and likely failing) to enforce some sort of order. Anderson's head clears, finally.

Snapping into action, she wrenches the car door on her passenger side open with a violent jolt, the hinge mechanism out of alignment. Belatedly, she unsnaps her seatbelt. ]

On it, [ she says in a curt tone, keeping a hand on her gun as she crawls out along the burned pavement, ignoring the way the thin fabric of her clothes ride up and expose her to scrapes. Louder, to be heard over the mess, ] Stay low. The shooter's still there.

[ It might be a crisis, but they can't afford to get out of the burning car and go straight into a bullet to the face. ]

[causational]

[It takes a few moments to even get his bearings, but he does hear her, the fact that she calls out to him that she's on it, that he should stay low and the shooter - John Wick - is still there. He's aware enough to pick up that she's getting out of the vehicle and heading in, but he isn't quick enough to tell her to wait, that she needs backup, that she should let him catch up with her so he can watch her back.

So instead, he focuses on clawing his way out of the vehicle. As the shock fades, he starts to register that there's pain in his legs, from the knees down, and he realizes that his ankles are trapped under something that's crushed under the dashboard. Gritting his teeth, hoping it's not serious (it doesn't feel serious, it barely hurts, but then, getting shot had barely hurt at first either), he starts to gently work his feet back and forth, cautiously testing whether he can move them.]

Cassandra...be careful. I'm getting out...

[But he doesn't think she's in earshot anymore.]