ArchivedLogs:Point of No Return

Point of No Return
Warning: Blood and violence
Dramatis Personae Aloke, Mallory, Thomas
In Absentia	2015-06-01 An evening out goes terribly wrong (Part of the Future Past TP)
Location <NYC> TriBeCa
Home of the most expensive residences in New York, and of many a celebrities' penthouse, TriBeCa is now best known for being merely that - the richest neighborhood, and, as a result of the many films and television shows shot there, one of the most recognizable ones. Still, the vast majority of the people who walk its streets are that vermin most despised by New York City residents: tourists. The weather on the early June evening is a bit on the balmy side, the threat of a summer storm on the horizon in the faint coolness to the air. Whispy clouds obscure the stars above, reflecting back the light from the city below with a faint purple hue. The streets are busy with tourists and locals alike, frequenting the numerous eateries and businesses that populate this slice of the city. In the late evening, an eclectic crowd has formed outside the Tamarind Tribeca, awaiting seats at the popular Indian restaurant. “Oh, come on. I /know/ we just had dinner, but I am rather certain that Happy Cakes is still open,” Mallory says, laughter in her voice as she exits the front door of the Tamarind. One hand rests on the swell of her stomach while she leans against the wall to wait for the others, the other hand rubbing at the small of her back to relieve some of the pressure. She is dressed for the evening out, with little attempt made to hide her visible mutations or pregnancy. A simple black wrap dress hugs her form and leaves the lower half of her digitigrade legs visible, her tail swaying below the conservative hem. Her shoulders and upper body are covered by a dove gray shawl, tightly knitted from some sort of silk, more for decoration than for protection from the chill. “Please? It’s just down the way, and we are in the area,” Mallory says again, glancing towards the doorway with a brilliant, fanged grin, rubbing her belly, “They want cupcakes… chocolate ones, most definitely. Maybe also a vanilla one, too.” Mallory continues, her thoughts musing, << Or two. Maybe we could get a dozen to take home? >> Chuckling, Thomas shakes his head as he follows his sister out the door, holding it open for the third member of their party to join them. Wearing a grey suit that has an odd sheen to it, with a white shirt and wing tip shoes, his skin is carefully covered in makeup to make him appear human, though he keeps a pageboy hat on to make the horn issue less of one. “I can’t say as I would terribly disagree to more food, but shouldn’t we be getting back soon? School night and all, don’t want to be too terribly grumpy for the children, you won’t have a bath of coffee and tea to wake up to after all.” << And by they you mean you? >> Thomas thinks to her with a grin, then glances over his shoulder to Aloke to get his opinion. “What say you? Something sweet to follow up the spice? Or are you going to allow your wife, children and brother in law to show you up in the food consumption field? Though this sounds a bit like that old myth, where Loki tries to out eat the fire in human form.” Smiling, he glances to Mallory as he thinks << See, I do pay attention to silly stories sometimes. >> Aloke steps out of the restaurant looking equally full. He's dressed in a white button down shirt worn untucked with a pair of dark khakis. Bare feet are protected only by simple brown flip-flops, and the glow of any exposed skin is tamped down by the brightness diffusing sunscreen he wears. Of course, he can still be seen from a couple blocks away at night, but at least he isn't painful to look at. Smiling, Aloke shakes his head at Thomas. "No, you won't get me on that one. /But/. If my wife and twins want cupcakes, I'll make sure they get cupcakes. I doubt I'll be able to eat any though." He chuckles and nods up the street. "It's just around the corner anyway. Not much of a detour. We'll get everything 'to-go' and everyone can be in bed on time. Sound ok, Thomas? I mean, if you want, I can run you home real quick and come back to walk Mallory there." “Are we keeping you out past your bedtime, brother of mine?” Mallory ribs at Thomas, grinning broadly as Aloke emerges from the restaurant, “Besides, it isn’t that late. Just a jaunt down the street, and we’ll head back home. All responsible and adult-like. With a dozen cupcakes to go.” She links her arm through Aloke’s elbow, leaning against him affectionately even as she starts to steer the trio in the direction of their second destination. Perhaps a little unsteady in her gait, still adjusting to the different center of gravity - thoughts of possibly needing to use a cane for added balance come to mind, begrudgingly. << I get to play interpreter for them for a bit longer. And I interpret that they want cupcakes for dessert >> Mallory thinks to Thomas, her tone cheery and upbeat, a pleased smile on her lips. Aloke’s agreement gets a quiet chuckle from Mallory, and she leans over to kiss his cheek, eyes closing against the brightness of his skin, “You are an absolute darling.” “It’s alright, I can always call the cabby to come get me if I want to get back sooner,” Thomas says with a nod and a shrug. “Besides, I can be the one who is an old and responsible adult. I mean you two are going to be all baby brained for some time now to come. So I will just have to make sure everything not related to food stuffs and the twins will be handled then.” He nods, all proper stodge as he glances over to his sister and her not quite waddling state. << If you need something I can check if the pharmacy has a cane for you. >> He lets out a sigh however as he joins the less responsible doughnut seeking, gloved hands slid into his suit pockets. “I wish the summers here weren’t so damn warm. I get plenty of odd looks just from the people who think I ought to be melting.” "Excellent," Aloke says with a broad smile. He switches arms with Mallory to subtly place himself between her and the street as they proceed, likely even putting her between him and Thomas. The sidewalk is certainly wide enough here for the group to walk three abreast, and still leave a little room for others to pass by. He grunts at Thomas's remark about cabs though. "Ug. Taxis. Honestly, I /so/ want to meet our children, but half the reason, I think, is so that we never have to take a cab anywhere again." The teleporter grins. He must miss traveling his way, but of course the incredible risk doesn't even come close to weighing in against the minor inconvenience of getting around the way the rest the world does. "Anyway, to the cupcakes!" “Bah. We’ll be quick about it,” Mallory says, though her pace is not particularly speedy, leaning over to stage whisper to Aloke, “Otherwise our chaperone will get all crotchety about being out so late.” When Aloke moves to walk on the opposite side of her, she links her arm through Thomas’s as well, a sense of warm contentedness shared over their link, at being able to enjoy the night out with both her guys. << Not necessary, as long as the both of you stick nearby. Will likely need one to get around by next week. Though my doctors think I may be on bedrest soon >> Mallory explains with a mental sigh, pressing a hand on her stomach briefly, smirking in amusement at the flutter of movement. “Oh, you are more than welcome to zip around on your own, as long as you continue to appease me with snack food,” Mallory chuckles, squeezing Aloke’s arm with a grin, “I just have to take the slow route for now.” “To be fair, Thomas, you /feel/ like you should be melting,” Mallory says with a chuckle, elbowing her twin jokingly, “Obviously, the only solution is cupcakes.” A mental snort and some sarcasm accompanies the thought << Or a short sleeved shirt. >> There is movement from an alleyway that happens to lie directly along the path the three mutants take; the sound of scuffling, followed by a metal trashcan lid hitting the ground. There is a man moving out into the street -- a man who looks somehow ‘off’. It might be the clothes, which -- while very stylish and expensive (a dark, off-purple jacket and tie; a white linen shirt, dark black slacks), appear somewhat dirty and disheveled. Or maybe it’s his face -- young, somewhat handsome, but with a bit more facial scruff than ‘ruggedly handsome’ -- beginning to border on the verge of ‘scraggly whiskers’. Or maybe it’s the way he staggers a bit, as he walks -- one hand held clumsily inside of his coat, as if he’s nursing some sort of injury, the other hanging out limply by his side. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the fact that when he emerges from this alleyway -- some ten yards away -- he’s soon turning about, bringing himself on a direct path for the three as they move -- specifically, toward Mallory. “Yes yes, I’ll get all crotchety, you whippersnappers,” Thomas says with a smile and accepts Mallory’s arm. << Alright, just don’t do something like fall down. >> He lets out a snort at the talk about melting and shakes his head. “Yes, well I generally don’t have someone hanging on my arm to worry about making them feel too warm.” As the creepy weird guy comes out of the alleyway, Thomas raises a brow, and looks to the others. “Huh, he doesn’t look quite well there,” he murmurs to his compatriots. Of course he may just be suffering from upper middle Britishness, he tugs at his sister’s arm to get her further away from the homeless looking fellow and his staggering. << He looks off… >> and his concern increases as he doesn't seem to be getting out of the path. Aloke smiles at Mallory and squeezes her arm too. When the scruffy man emerges though, he nods in agreement with Thomas, turning to follow his brother-in-law's arc, and put himself between Mallory and the 'homeless guy', just in case. One never knows. Nodding at the man, Aloke raises his voice a little to make sure the man can hear him, "Hey buddy, you ok there?" The words are friendly enough, but his tone is colder, edging into a warning. The happy smile on Mallory’s face begins to fade as the scraggly young man shuffles out of the alley towards them, her shining black eyes narrowing cautiously at him. Her pace slows a touch, and she moves with the tug, out of the disheveled man’s way - her grip on Aloke’s arm tightens, as she pulls closer to him. << Agreed. Lets keep moving along. Mayhap he’s just drunk. >> Mallory responds, though there is anxiety in her thoughts and posturing. She shrinks away from the approaching man, pulling at Aloke again, her voice hushed, “Come on. Lets just keep on.” The man’s leisurely, staggering waltz into their path becomes more hitched as the three of them start to speak among themselves; his eyes seem to intensify their stare on Mallory -- and then, his pace is picking up, bringing him closer and closer. The hand underneath his jacket tightens its grip; in only a few moments, he’s closing the distance between them -- between himself and Mallory -- as he shifts his body to block any sight from the street proper, that hand sliding out of his jacket to reveal something -- dark and metallic. Pointed at Mallory. The creepifying man’s eyes are swiveling back and forth toward Thomas and Aloke, now, unable to decide who to settle upon; his mouth tightens into a narrow line. There’s a good two or three yards between them and him. His voice is hoarse and raspy with disuse as he speaks, the sound of a hammer being cocked distinct enough to recognize: “Wallets.” Nodding at the words of the others Thomas frowns, glancing between the creepy dude and the rest of the street. << What the hell is this, >> he thinks to his sister as the man puts his hand under the jacket revealing some sort of weapon. “Just calm down, we’ll give you the money,” he says as he slides his hand into his pants pocket. << I should have made you the damn mumu I don’t care if its not attractive. >> "Yeah," Aloke says, nodding at Thomas while moving to put himself directly in between the thief and Mallory. "We'll give you our wallets, no problem. Just don't shoot, man, she's /pregnant/." He reaches slowly into his pocket to avoid any sudden moves and draws out his own wallet, reaching to hold it out for the man. Mallory freezes when the stranger pulls the weapon, her shining black eyes going wide in terror, the faintest flicker of orange fire visible in the darkness. << Oh god >> she thinks to Thomas, instinctively falling back a half step, hooves clacking against the pavement. One arm curls protectively around her belly as she stares at the man and the weapon, the other hand almost reaching for Aloke as he steps in front of her, but stopping halfway. All her training, her knowledge - all of that flees from her mind, leaving her with just the basic, instinctual need to protect her babies. A thousand different possibilities race unbidden through her mind, her heart fluttering uncomfortably in the panic that grips her. She does not move, save for her tail swaying behind her, but Thomas can feel the almost palpable worry rolling off her - words have failed the typically eloquent teacher. Her fingers eventually fumble clumsily at the clasp of her purse in an attempt to find her money, hands trembling uselessly. Maybe it’s Aloke’s attempt to place himself between the man and Mallory; maybe it’s Mallory’s sudden panicked fumbling for her own money. But rather than staying calm -- as per Thomas’ suggestion -- he just seems to get all the more twitchy. His left eye spasms; there’s a steady tug at the side of his mouth, as if it’s struggling to curve up into a smile, but just can’t quite get there. “I said wallets,” he insists, a little louder -- and now he’s glancing from left to right to see if anyone’s within visible range of him and the three he’s robbing. The mention of Mallory’s pregnancy seems to flip a switch in his head, though. Suddenly, that twitching glance to the left snaps back -- locking down on the sight of Mallory, behind Aloke -- like some sort of goddamn targeting reticule. He doesn’t even see Aloke, anymore; all he’s doing is staring directly at Mallory. When he speaks next, his voice is scarcely a hiss, a growl, an infuriated, indignant, trembling snarl. “Pregnant,” he repeats, as if he found the word somehow repugnant. “You’re -- breeding now is that what you’re--” There was something else, maybe; he meant to continue spitting out whatever rage was inside of him while the three fumbled for their money. But in that instant, there’s a sudden BANG; the man’s gun has fired -- still pointed somewhere in the vicinity of Aloke and Mallory. He seems just as surprised by this result as any of them might be -- eyes wide with panic as he stumbles back, away from them. “Oh, shi-- shit--” And then -- bang -- bang -- bang -- three more shots as he stumbles back, away. In for a penny, in for a pound. “You stupid sodding git!,” Thomas screams as a stray bullet slams into the armored material of his suit, knocking him back some, but no holes or blood resulted. It however was but a momentary distraction as he turned his gaze to his sister and her firefly. Anger overrides any fear for himself as he moves closer to the others who had been further in front, smoke starting to writhe from between his lips. There's a moment for Aloke where the world stops, everything frozen around him. He isn't actually sure if he's accidentally jumped into light-time, as he thinks of it, or if it's just that moment when your life flashed before your eyes. Either way, he has time to see the bullets racing toward Thomas, Mallory and himself. Aloke is cursed with the gift of time. His panicked mind takes in every small detail, and even runs through each possible permutation of the outcome. He already knows instinctively that Thomas would not want his help when Mallory is in danger. He already knows teleporting Mallory out of the way will almost certainly ignite her, and they will lose their children. He already knows what he has to do. Aloke moves to place parts of his body in front of all of the bullets threatening Mallory, and reforms, dropping back into real-time. The bullets rip through him, and Aloke gasps as his power fluctuates out of control. He feels himself sliding between all three states, his purely physical form, the laser-skin, and his pure light form. In the spasming loss of control, it feels like his body is burning away to nothingness, right there on the street, with a prolonged light bright enough to trick the street lamps into turning off for a moment. His yelp of pain is cut off as the last vestiges of his corporeality flake away, leaving a glowing, translucent version of himself hovering a few inches off the ground. Ash drifts down to the pavement all around. The sound of the first gunshot catches Mallory by surprise. As does the sudden searing pain in her chest, alien and foreign, unlike the familiar warmth of her own fiery powers. Shock, pain, and confusion swell in her mind, flooding over the shared connection to her twin as she attempts to process what has happened in the eternal instant of chaos. Mallory presses a hand to her chest instinctively, attempting to calm her fluttering heart - when she pulls her hand back, her deep red skin is coated with dark, sticky blood. Panic rolls off of her in waves, overwhelming the link to Thomas briefly. An attempt to scream only escapes as a sputter, as Mallory collapses to the pavement, one arm curled protectively around her stomach, the other reaching out futilely to grasp at Aloke. “A--” she tries to call Aloke’s name, mentally screaming it for only Thomas to hear, the sound cut off in a choking gurgle, a trickle of blood issuing from her lips. The next gunshots barely register, as does Thomas’s shout - darkness begins to creep into the edges of her vision, encroaching further as each heartbeat pumps more blood from the gunshot wound. Her eyes squint shut, a moment too late, in response to the blinding light from Aloke's transformations. Feebly reaching towards where she last saw him, Mallory gropes blindly for Aloke, several times trying to call out to him but producing no words. << Thomas? >> Mallory questions, her thoughts hazy and weak, and carrying with them throbbing pain, both emotional and physical. Any ability to shield what she shares with him is gone, leaving the connection raw and drenched in fear. The flash of light confuses the would-be mugger; already deep in the throes of panic, he’s dropping the pistol from his numb hands -- letting it hit the concrete with a dreadful sound of heavy metal scraping against stone and gravel. And then, stumbling back in a haze of horror, he’s moving, his back hitting the wall of the building behind him -- feeling along its length -- as he tries to escape the chaos unfolding in front of him. The pistol is left behind, the barrel still smoldering from the freshly discharged bullets. Squinting against the flash of light, Thomas seeks to better see what has happened to his sister. Kneeling down on the pavement he blinks back tears as he sees the blood and feel the pain flowing through the connection. Rather than accepting the pain, he pushes against it trying to help override her fear response with anything else, hoping anger might do. << Mallory, Mallo. Stay with me! >> his thoughts a command as he pushes his hands against the wounds to try and do something to staunch the flow. “Dammit, we need help!” He glances to where Aloke’s ashes are and the glowing form floating a bit. “Not, gah!” he seems frustrated like he had been hoping to use his brother in law for some purpose. << Mallory, you’re fading too fast. We can’t get you to a hospital in time. >> Sinking slowly as if gravity only barely applies to him now, Aloke drops to a kneeling position on the other side of Mallory. It's clear from his gestures that he's pleading, reaching out to her and to Thomas, but Aloke isn't making any actual sound. His lips are moving, but nothing comes out. In his panic, he doesn't realize that he can't be heard, and he seems to be increasingly agitated that Thomas isn't listening to his suggestions. He reaches out to shake Thomas' shoulder, but his hand passes right through. Aloke pulls back suddenly, aware for the first time of his own condition. /He/ can't hear anything either. He 'grabs' Thomas by the shoulders and mouths over and over, 'Do something, you have to /do/ something.' Tears of light stream down his shining face as he begs Thomas and the universe to make things right. Mallory’s movements are sluggish and fumbling, her fingers shaking weakly as she tries to reach towards where Aloke had been, blinking repeatedly with tears welling up in her eyes. Her breathing is starting to become labored. << Aloke? >> she thinks, horn scraping against the pavement as she tries to turn her head, lips moving, but no words are produced aloud. << I can’t see… I… there was a… light. A bright. Light… Aloke? >> Mallory questions, thoughts jumbled and confused, her fingers curl against the pavement, dragging through the scattered ashes. She continues to try to reach towards Aloke, unaware that her hand has passed through his knee several times in her feeble search. Her brow furrows at Thomas’s commands, trying to comprehend what was going on with limited success, consciousness starting to escape her. << No. No no. No. No. >> Mallory whimpers mentally, repeating it like an increasingly quieter mantra. The pain has faded to a sedate throbbing as she starts to go into shock. << I don’t want to die. I don’t... want to lose them. No. Not this, not this. >> A quiet, nagging voice whispers, calls for flames, for the healing warmth of the flame, the comfort of her own inferno. Mallory struggles against it, her mantra repeated over and over again as she fights weakly, her entirely black eyes unfocused and welling with tears. << I can….can’t. I can’t. No. No no no no. >> Mallory keeps trying to mouth the words, her lip quivering as she attempts to draw another shaking breath. The would-be mugger is running for his life, now, charging head-long down an alley, knocking over a trashcan in his desperation to escape from the scene unfolding behind him -- his harried face left wide-eyed and panic, flustered with color, his mouth still twitching and spasming as he stumbles along and out of sight. Along the street, people scream; some are turning to run, others reaching for their phone -- of those, some move to call for help -- while others are backing away, snatching photos of the bizarre event. Someone across the street starts screaming for an ambulance. Swatting away Aloke as he gets his incorporeal self in the way, Thomas gestures after the shooter. “Go be useful and find out where the arse is getting off to!” His attention is focused more on Mallory as he feels the shock setting into his sister. << You are not dying here. I don’t care what happens otherwise. You will live dammit. >> Smoke writhes between his lips as he presses burning hot hands against the bullet holes. “Come on, change… change…” Pushing at her thoughts, he lets his memories of his own changes flood through, each flash of burning pain a pulse. Aloke tries another silent plea to Thomas, but either he doesn't seem to get the message about running off to follow the criminal, or he isn't willing to leave his wife's side in this moment. Then his head comes up, glancing in the direction the mugger ran. Finally he nods, and begins to occasionally flicker in place, his posture and position changing minutely, like someone in a strobe light, as he begins to co-locate, tracking the villain step by step, and coming back to Mallory's side in the intervening moments. He's stopped trying to communicate, but his expression is grim. “No,” Mallory manages with her last breath, wisps of steam already beginning to rise from her lips, before Thomas attempts to force the issue. << Please… no. I can...t >> she thinks to Thomas, eyes squeezing shut as tears start to fall, though they quickly evaporate against her increasingly hot skin. << We’ll lose them >> she pleads with her twin. Her hand twitches towards Aloke once more, seeking some comforting contact, while the other hand presses against her rounded stomach, desperate to feel that movement again. Thomas’s hand on her chest brings with it a painful heat, and the first flickers of flame begin to blossom from within. << No… >>