01-15-2018, 06:29 PM
He was still alive. Impaled grotesquely by a shard of concrete, and passed out from the pain, but she saw the minute rise and fall of his chest in the moments before Alvis's temper snapped over the ink on his arm. Tattoos? She didn't know what any of that meant. But she could piece together a picture, and it wasn't a pleasant one. She blinked her eyes and could almost feel the heat of the flames on her lids, the smoke acrid in her nostrils, as the girl crawled across the marble floor and the dark figure followed. Duty and death. The words tumbled about in her head. It is your duty to die, he had told her, right before the floor exploded, tiles stinging like razors as the girl defended herself. Natalie took a breath, reabsorbing the totality of the destruction surrounding them. And the implications.
By the crater, Alvis was spitting accusations. First at the man Jared rung himself dry to haul back into consciousness, his skin red raw, barely enough energy to steel his legs - and that was afterwards. Then at Jay. The two clearly knew each other, but it was none of her business, despite the unexpected twist of emotion in her chest, drawing her attention away from the scene. She was still staring at the pinned body when it suddenly sagged a final time, and she witnessed its unnatural passing like a sad deflation. A moment later Alvis was at her side, trying to lead her away. Again. Around them the sirens screamed as police cars rammed a barricade across the exit.
She was tired of being treated as something breakable; something to be swept aside while others shouldered the burden.
When the guns trained on Jay, instinct brought her a step forward, but Alvis shoved her unceremoniously back. Glass crunched under her heel, and she grit her teeth; more from frustration than pain. The detective tried to smooth over the situation, but it was the mewl of pain from the burned man that drew her attention downwards. She didn't know him. Didn't know how he'd gotten himself into this dire situation, or of he deserved to get out of it. Truth was she barely knew Jay either, but she trusted his instincts anyway. And the idea of sedation sat uneasy in her gut. Not least because her own registration papers must have processed by now.
"Protocol for subduing channelers?"
Her voice rasped dry, but the words were clear. Sharply enunciated, each one a bullet. Barely perceptible, she heard Alvis grunt displeasure under his breath. He was gripping his fists like he wanted to hit something despite the terse atmosphere. "This is how Ascendancy chooses to treat them? Like criminals? Like rabid animals?"
She didn't move, wasn't stupid enough to chance the slip of a trigger-happy finger even if the guns weren't pointed her way. Her hands hung loose at her sides. Her face wan and tired. But she stood straight despite her weariness, and spoke like she was used to wearing the mantle of authority. "Use your eyes, gentlemen; he's barely even conscious. Beaten to within an inch of his life. Need I remind you we're standing in the heart of the CCD? He shouldn't have needed to defend himself at all in the first place."
A subtle shift of blame. Her pale stare metered it out, but also gave them a chance to soak in her own injuries -- to contemplate those failures too, and perhaps reassess the way they might handle the situation. If they recognised her at all; had any inclination as to her familial connections, all the better.
Her gaze moved to the detective who had arrived first; who had tried to get the man out before his colleagues had arrived. A natural ally. "He deserves some dignity, the same as any other man."
By the crater, Alvis was spitting accusations. First at the man Jared rung himself dry to haul back into consciousness, his skin red raw, barely enough energy to steel his legs - and that was afterwards. Then at Jay. The two clearly knew each other, but it was none of her business, despite the unexpected twist of emotion in her chest, drawing her attention away from the scene. She was still staring at the pinned body when it suddenly sagged a final time, and she witnessed its unnatural passing like a sad deflation. A moment later Alvis was at her side, trying to lead her away. Again. Around them the sirens screamed as police cars rammed a barricade across the exit.
She was tired of being treated as something breakable; something to be swept aside while others shouldered the burden.
When the guns trained on Jay, instinct brought her a step forward, but Alvis shoved her unceremoniously back. Glass crunched under her heel, and she grit her teeth; more from frustration than pain. The detective tried to smooth over the situation, but it was the mewl of pain from the burned man that drew her attention downwards. She didn't know him. Didn't know how he'd gotten himself into this dire situation, or of he deserved to get out of it. Truth was she barely knew Jay either, but she trusted his instincts anyway. And the idea of sedation sat uneasy in her gut. Not least because her own registration papers must have processed by now.
"Protocol for subduing channelers?"
Her voice rasped dry, but the words were clear. Sharply enunciated, each one a bullet. Barely perceptible, she heard Alvis grunt displeasure under his breath. He was gripping his fists like he wanted to hit something despite the terse atmosphere. "This is how Ascendancy chooses to treat them? Like criminals? Like rabid animals?"
She didn't move, wasn't stupid enough to chance the slip of a trigger-happy finger even if the guns weren't pointed her way. Her hands hung loose at her sides. Her face wan and tired. But she stood straight despite her weariness, and spoke like she was used to wearing the mantle of authority. "Use your eyes, gentlemen; he's barely even conscious. Beaten to within an inch of his life. Need I remind you we're standing in the heart of the CCD? He shouldn't have needed to defend himself at all in the first place."
A subtle shift of blame. Her pale stare metered it out, but also gave them a chance to soak in her own injuries -- to contemplate those failures too, and perhaps reassess the way they might handle the situation. If they recognised her at all; had any inclination as to her familial connections, all the better.
Her gaze moved to the detective who had arrived first; who had tried to get the man out before his colleagues had arrived. A natural ally. "He deserves some dignity, the same as any other man."