05-23-2014, 04:45 PM
The fifteen police officers on scene quickly swelled to thirty. The train car harboring the suspected bout of Sickness was cordoned off, and the individuals that had been on the train were detained in a blocked corridor nearby. The officers made aware that none were under arrest at this time, but while the WHO maintained heightened security measures for eminent pandemic, they could not depart until clearance by chemical and hazardous material specialists. Meanwhile, identification of every passenger, twelve in total, either in the form of Custody Identification Number or Custody approved passport was demanded.
Dane and Thalia, being identified by their peers as having been the closest to the now verified dead woman, Katya, were taken to a separate location for holding and strict guard. If they were cleared of contaminants themselves, they were likely to be taken to a local CDPS station to be interviewed by a Chief Inspector.
The final individual, Jon, was verified as unconscious and unresponsive, but yet alive. Emergency medical personnel taking all precautions to potential case of Sickness, evaluated him while still on the train. Once deemed safe to move, a special Haz-Mat ambulance vehicle certified to transport quarantine victims, wheeled him to the surface.
Were he any other individual, he would be put into a chemical induced state of anesthesia, the standard of care for individuals actively symptomatic for the Sickness - as such patients routinely become incredibly hostile and psychotic. Then after a series of tests at a Sickness quarantine unit outside the city, it would become clear that his body temperature and brain wave activity exhibited no commonalities of Sickness symptoms. The anesthesia would be discontinued, and he would be allowed to be medically discharged once he awoke and passed medical clearance.
But this was the American Jon Little Bird who brought a lawsuit against the CCD. This was the man responsible for the "suicide" of the Custody's Prosecutor General, Anatoly Kant. His identity quickly pulled red flags by the CDPS investigators at the scene, and they informed the paramedics to halt their transport of Mr. Bird pending prior approval from their superiors.
Within minutes, CDPS communication climbed the steep slopes of bureaucracy until Nikolai himself was alerted with the news.
He touched the screen, arms crossed, and studied Mr. Bird's limp face on the ambulance gurney. At the time Mr. Bird's case appeared in Custody Court, Nikolai had been unaware of others of his disposition. Had he discovered Alric's presence in the Facility sooner, he might have given this particular lawsuit more than the passing glance he'd thought at the time. He hadn't cared about the political party in America. He hadn't cared about the Natives of that continent. He didn't worry over the damage they could inflict upon the empire in his custody. That lawsuit had been a fleeting blip in his daily briefings, there one day, and gone the next.
But everything was different now. Nikolai was not alone in the world as he had long-believed. He, like so many others, knew exactly what the Sickness was, and it marveled him to grasp how wide it stretched over the globe. He was aware others could do things he had not considered before, and with some trial and error, he should duplicate some of their intricate manifestations of power.
His eyes glazed to the accompanying report. Witnesses said Mr. Bird turned on another man who was subsequently and unnaturally flung far down the train. Nikolai smiled to himself; such a report was more than enough evidence for him as he curled a strand of Ether around a glass of water to pull it to his hand.
The Facility? Nik asked himself. The opportunity was tempting, but he quickly dismissed it. The Facility was for anonymous brothers that Nikolai could rescue from hell. He could train them as he had Alric. It was a carefully crafted sequence of events that convinced people they were being rescued rather than imprisoned. And they were being rescued. Nikolai bore not a shred of doubt of such a thing. Little Bird was his enemy, not a comrade. He did not belong there.
He transmitted his decision, Standard practice. Do not transfer to Facility. Monitor as needed.
A casual swipe dissolved the connection.
He took a drink of water.
Dane and Thalia, being identified by their peers as having been the closest to the now verified dead woman, Katya, were taken to a separate location for holding and strict guard. If they were cleared of contaminants themselves, they were likely to be taken to a local CDPS station to be interviewed by a Chief Inspector.
The final individual, Jon, was verified as unconscious and unresponsive, but yet alive. Emergency medical personnel taking all precautions to potential case of Sickness, evaluated him while still on the train. Once deemed safe to move, a special Haz-Mat ambulance vehicle certified to transport quarantine victims, wheeled him to the surface.
Were he any other individual, he would be put into a chemical induced state of anesthesia, the standard of care for individuals actively symptomatic for the Sickness - as such patients routinely become incredibly hostile and psychotic. Then after a series of tests at a Sickness quarantine unit outside the city, it would become clear that his body temperature and brain wave activity exhibited no commonalities of Sickness symptoms. The anesthesia would be discontinued, and he would be allowed to be medically discharged once he awoke and passed medical clearance.
But this was the American Jon Little Bird who brought a lawsuit against the CCD. This was the man responsible for the "suicide" of the Custody's Prosecutor General, Anatoly Kant. His identity quickly pulled red flags by the CDPS investigators at the scene, and they informed the paramedics to halt their transport of Mr. Bird pending prior approval from their superiors.
Within minutes, CDPS communication climbed the steep slopes of bureaucracy until Nikolai himself was alerted with the news.
He touched the screen, arms crossed, and studied Mr. Bird's limp face on the ambulance gurney. At the time Mr. Bird's case appeared in Custody Court, Nikolai had been unaware of others of his disposition. Had he discovered Alric's presence in the Facility sooner, he might have given this particular lawsuit more than the passing glance he'd thought at the time. He hadn't cared about the political party in America. He hadn't cared about the Natives of that continent. He didn't worry over the damage they could inflict upon the empire in his custody. That lawsuit had been a fleeting blip in his daily briefings, there one day, and gone the next.
But everything was different now. Nikolai was not alone in the world as he had long-believed. He, like so many others, knew exactly what the Sickness was, and it marveled him to grasp how wide it stretched over the globe. He was aware others could do things he had not considered before, and with some trial and error, he should duplicate some of their intricate manifestations of power.
His eyes glazed to the accompanying report. Witnesses said Mr. Bird turned on another man who was subsequently and unnaturally flung far down the train. Nikolai smiled to himself; such a report was more than enough evidence for him as he curled a strand of Ether around a glass of water to pull it to his hand.
The Facility? Nik asked himself. The opportunity was tempting, but he quickly dismissed it. The Facility was for anonymous brothers that Nikolai could rescue from hell. He could train them as he had Alric. It was a carefully crafted sequence of events that convinced people they were being rescued rather than imprisoned. And they were being rescued. Nikolai bore not a shred of doubt of such a thing. Little Bird was his enemy, not a comrade. He did not belong there.
He transmitted his decision, Standard practice. Do not transfer to Facility. Monitor as needed.
A casual swipe dissolved the connection.
He took a drink of water.