ArchivedLogs:Battle For Harlem: Fight or Flight

Battle For Harlem: Fight or Flight
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Eric, Ion, Isra, Micah, Thea	2013-09-26 (Part of the Battle for Harlem TP.)
Location <NYC> St. Martin's Church - Harlem
This church is not large, but it has a quiet majesty to it all the same, in the way of many old churches. A tall stone building tucked into the center of Harlem, it is one of the earliest Catholic churches in the city, and it looks it. Inside, the wooden pews stretch off towards the alter, the crucifix an immense and solemn wooden carving that presides over it all. Most of the windows are stained class, rich and vibrantly colourful depictions of various saints and Biblical scenes. Small recesses along the wall hold the Stations of the Cross depicted in intricate stone carvings, and the prayer alcove holds real flickering votive candles unlike many modern churches who have switched over to electric. The vaulted ceiling has detailed painting done between its arches, and the distinctive scent of frankincense often lingers faintly in the air. Below, the basement of the church has been heavily modernized; there is a pair of meeting rooms for classes, a pair of bathrooms with showers, a door leading out to the tiny adjoining rectory building where the pastor lives. In tribute to the church's namesake, ministries for the poor are a large part of the church community; one room holds a wealth of donated clothing that is free for any to take. With the large dining room and industrial kitchen that serve hot dinners six days a week and distribute donated bags of groceries every Monday, there are frequent visitors through here who are often in need of the helping hand. It's a beautiful fall afternoon in Harlem, crisp and cool and sunny. It's been largely quiet on the block of St. Martin's church, the usual foot traffic of people in and out -- Mass won't start for a few hours yet, and the scheduled afternoon confession time is winding down. Outside the church, a young man is taking a smoke break. Inside, the last of the penitents has not yet left church, conversing quietly with the priest in one of the pews. The church is crowded despite not having Mass, people sleeping in the pews and chatting up in the choir loft; the basement is more crowded still, and the neighboring buildings contain their own share of refugee mutants. The police cars down the block have grown considerably in number over the past little while -- at the moment their radio chatter has grown, too. But the church, itself, for the moment, is calm. For the moment. The lines of police officers surround the blocks around the church, as normal, and people continue to bustle back and forth through the screening processes. Perhaps it is a little bit stricter of a search than usual, but no more than it has been on some other days, when there was some particularly hard-ass sergeant supervising the checkpoints. A few things are different, however. Off to one side, surrounded by another small cluster of officers, a grey-haired police officer in a white dress shirt and the badge of a deputy chief is talking, quietly, to a lieutenant. Blocks away, gathering in a parking lot, police vehicles have began to amass. Blue and whites, ESU trucks, two armored personnel Bearcats, and a gigantic mobile command post. Dusk is in the basement, nominally helping with mealtime -- though given his lack of proficiency in the kitchen this has largely meant dishing /up/ the food that other people cooked. It's on to cleanup, now, and the bat-winged mutant is up to his elbows in suds in the kitchen, scrubbing at the bottom of an enormous soup pot that until recently was filled with chicken stew. His wings are folded in against his back, their soft dark fur blending in today with the deep brown-black of his henley shirt, sleeves currently pushed up to scrunch around his biceps. He's humming, while he scrubs; some blended mishmash of two AFI songs. Apparently he has forgotten which melody goes where. The human-sized apron looks faintly ludicrous on Isra's lanky body, and just plain bizarre over the asymmetrical blue dress that--because it covers her shoulders and knees--passes for conservative by her current standards of fashion. She wipes down the last table and glances around the dining hall with a teacher's appraising eye. Satisfied, she stalks back into the kitchen. Cocking one ear at the indecipherable serenade, she stretches out one gray wing to brush against Dusk's side while she rises the washcloth out in an unoccupied sink. Despite warnings from Ion, Micah felt a need to return and check in on the people with illnesses, injuries, and those recovering from surgeries for which he had initiated care and had been acting as a go-between with the more visit-limited doctors. In a concession to those warnings, however, he did park several blocks away and walk in with only the limited gear he could carry today, primarily consisting of replacement medical supplies. He is dressed as those around the church have grown used to seeing him, in a TARDIS blue polo shirt and khakis that tell he has come either on a break from work or directly after. Micah returns to the church after tending to people in the neighbouring apartments, frowning as he passes the steadily increasing presence of police and other personnel and gear. He takes the stairs down into the basement entirely faster than his usual slow-steady progress with such tasks, easily and not bothering with the railing. He makes his way into the kitchen, a green bag marked with a first aid cross bumping gently at his hip as he walks. "Oh, is lunch over already? I meant t'come help with that," he announces apologetically as he approaches Dusk and Isra. Once closer, he lowers his voice. "It's gettin' a little nervous-makin' outside, the people that are startin' t'gather. Not just the extra cops. Startin' t'look military. Got ESU on site. Got the hair on the back of m'neck all up... Wherever it is y'all got planned t'take folks? I think we should at least start gettin' those with reduced mobility there. Immediately." Ion is down the stairs very shortly after Micah, taking the stairs two at a time. Given his general exuberance, this hurry at least raises no eyebrows among the crowd finishing up eating down in the soup kitchen's large dining room. He stops in the dining room on the way, murmuring something in a low voice to one of the women eating at the tables before he stops in the doorway of the kitchen. "Ay, cariños, dishes can wait." There's a quiet note of urgency in his words, as he raps knuckles against the doorway. "If you want to walk out of here about now is the time to do it. But we'll be glad of the help I am sure with those people who -- can't really just go to cops and hope for the best, yeah? It's time, though. Stay calm, but we need to get everyone to the tunnels quick." Emerging from the back shadows of the basement, Thea strides past the tables to help herself to a paper cup at the water jug. She looks dirty, and grimy, like she's been underground a long time. A pill pug the size of a terrier scurries along at her heels. She and Sonic have become recognizable figures in the last couple of weeks, and so she makes no effort to hide her true appearance here, hidden away from the above-ground world. She wears gray camo cargo pants, a black tank top with cutouts for her wings, and her long wings trail on the ground behind her like the train of a gown. Her straight-backed bearing may come off as regal, or just full of herself, depending on one's perspective. Either way, there is nothing frivolous about her attitude. Her head turns when Ion makes his announcement, antennae perking up as well as she trains her black, faceted eyes on him. She approaches him, cup in hand, and says quietly, "The tunnels are ready, and I have… friends on standby to carry anyone who might need help." Outside the church, a commanding voice sounds, from the loudspeakers mounted on top of one of the ESU trucks. "This is Deputy Chief O'Neil of the New York Police Department. By order of the state fire marshal, the church must be immediately evacuated. Leave the building in an orderly line and disperse." A pause. "Let's do this the easy way and all go home early." While riot police amass by the front doors there are others gathering on the other sides of the church, a squad by the rear service doors as well, heavily armed and ready for their orders. The Deputy Chief's voice calls forcefully, echoing off of the buildings and along the street. "By order of the State Fire Marshall, leave /now/. We will be coming in to take you out in five minutes, and when we do, you will be seeing the inside of a jail cell. Leave now, and no action will be taken against you." "I think I'm starting to measure how many people we're collecting based on how wrinkly my fingers get before I finish dishes," Dusk tells Isra cheerfully when she returns, his own wing unfurling to brush back up against hers. The cheer continues at Micah's arrival, though his fanged smile dims at the other man's words. "It's been pretty tense out there all week, do you really think --" He trails off in this answer, brows pulling into a frown when Ion comes to affirm this suspicion. He turns the water back on long enough to rinse suds off his hands, flicking water off of them into the sink and then wiping his hands dry on his shirt. "The exit's in the clothing room. Next to the pantry, Isra --" He quiets, at the distant voice coming from outside, his eyes closing for a brief moment. "There's people in here /and/ in the apartments next door who won't be able to make it on their own. Thea, I think we're going to need your friends for that." The worry in his expression is almost palpable as he looks between Isra and Micah, fangs sinking down against his lower lip. "Are you guys -- you probably actually /could/ leave now. I doubt the cops will really be so forgiving with a lot of the people in here." Thea nods at Micah's assessment and finishes her water, tossing the empty into an overfull trashcan. "Just warn them, guy, our 'wheelchairs' down here look like big damn ants. Because that's what we have." "I'm not so sure, Dusk," Thea says, glancing up at the ceiling as if she could see the gathering forces. "They've got some heavy equipment up there. I can't… tell exactly, but it's heavy. And armored. I doubt they'll let anyone just run past at this point." She nods, her expression softening marginally when she makes eye contact with some of the people getting ready go. "It's ok. Hercules is managing the riding ants. Just tell him if you need help. Don't be afraid. He's here to help, and protect you." Thea begins escorting some, and physically helping others toward the escape pantry. Sonic gallomps along behind her excitedly, not sure how to take all the stress in the air. Micah frowns at Ion's announcement, as it confirms his own suspicious-nervous feeling. "Tunnels..." He looks at Thea, managing to hide surprise at her appearance save for a slight widening of his eyes, a brief uptick of his eyebrows. The dirt she brings in with her serves to answer his tunnel question before it is fully voiced. "That would be helpful, there's a lotta folks ain't gonna move so quick on their own. Is the only entrance t'the tunnels here, or are there access points from the apartments, as well?" His planning is interrupted by the loudspeaker announcement, which earns /another/ frown sent in the general direction of the sound's source. He moves right back to it, with increased urgency, however. "If we can avoid bringin' people from the apartments in through here, that would be ideal. Sounds like their focus is the actual church for now." Thea's 'wheelchair' description earns a nod. "How steady can they hold someone who's layin' down? We got a few folks as ain't gonna do much more. I can let...Hercules know where t'go. That would prob'ly be faster an' certainly less manpower-intensive than workin' out carryin' stretchers." Isra sheds her apron and listens to the reports, each more dire than the one before. Her face shows the; only the tips of her ears and tail seem move at all. She gathers the longer side of her skirt hem and and ties it to the white sash belt hanging about her hip. The garment is considerably less modest now, but allows freer movement of legs and tail. "Those who neither walk nor ride, we'll carry." So saying, she bounds up the stairs, uncannily fast for one so large, only looking back once to see if the insect train is on task. Thea leads some people to the pantry, where Hercules, the man-beetle, emerges briefly, nodding and /smiling/ at people. Eyes go wide and people step back instinctively, but Thea just waits quietly. In his deep rumbly voice Herc holds up his hands and says, "It's ok, let's get you all to safety." There's a tense moment, before a little girl who's been on her own here for a long time, steps forward and takes Herc's hand, blinking up at the monster. Thea turns to Micah when that group is on their way, and says, "Well, if they can lean forward, that's best. Like on a horse. If not, Hercules can carry anyone who's too frail to hold on." Thea points at Isra as she goes, and says to Micah and Dusk. "Like what she said." "The people in those apartments are the ones who'll need the help most, a lot of them. You think they'll really just let them slide?" Ion sounds pensive more than challenging on this point, a worried frown on his face. He reaches out to squeeze Dusk lightly on the long edge of one wing, his eyes flicking between Micah and Isra, too. "Looks like your people are staying, man. If you can get the worst injured out from next door that would be a blessing. My mode of transport is near so likely to kill them as la chota." He gives one last squeeze to Dusk and then heads out into the crowded churchhall himself, where a wave of panic is beginning to spread at the announcement from the police outside. "Listen. Everybody." His voice is pitched to carry, though he's not shouting. "We've stood together this long, we're not going to fall apart just because they come to take our home, yeah? We've been preparing for this. Don't panic. Follow my winged friends and my homeboy Micah there, we'll get everyone out of here safe." He repeats these same instructions in Spanish shortly after the English, indicating the others with a sweep of his hand. The quiet tinkle of breaking glass is followed a moment later by muted explosions sound from towards the front of the building as the flashbangs go off. The strangely sweet smell of artificial smoke begins to spread from the front of the building, as a crunching sound comes from the rearmost door. A metal spike flashes briefly at one side of the door, making the wood creak with complaint. It gives a few moments later, the wood of the doorframe splintering as it is wrenched open. Unlike the police officers beginning to crowd the front, guns drawn, the back door only immediately lets three officers through, all in heavy black riot gear, armed only with batons and clear bulletproof shields. "Behin' me," the lead of the three orders, Georgia accent sharp and commanding. "Police!" Eric calls, as he glances cautiously ahead of him. "I don't know if --" Dusk runs his hand through his hair, frowning as he moves out of the kitchen. "There's a window upstairs where you can practically almost /jump/ across to the upstairs windows next door." His wings flex, perhaps emphasizing that with the right sort of aid 'practically' can become 'actually'. "Isra, we --" He's following after her towards the stairs quickly, but he stops with one wing curled half against his mouth as the smell of smoke starts to drift through the building. The voice, though, turns his head towards the banging with a sudden widening of eyes. "-- You --" There's momentary alarm in his expression, something puzzled, something /hurt/. "Thea, keep them away from the exit. Can Herc help Micah?" He turns to bound up the stairs after Isra, not stopping on the smoke-filled first floor but squeezing her hand and racing on up to the upper level. Micah nods silent thanks at all the offers to carry people, the little girl and the beetle-man actually prompting a smile, in spite of the circumstances. "No, I don't mean for 'em t'stay there, Ion. Just that we should clear the church first. An' if there are entrances t'the tunnels /in/ the apartments, then /extra/ blessings t'the people as dug 'em, 'cause it sounds like they're comin' in here /first/. Thea's fellas here should collect what small kids an' injured folks are up in the church proper. Ion's right, though, the apartments are where the worst off have been stayin'. I just don't know the best way t'get there, then get those folks /out/." He just pauses where he is, watching Isra and Dusk dart upstairs, presumably in attempt to access the apartments by window given what Dusk had said as he left. He nods to Thea and Herc, having provided what instruction he could there. Finally, Micah decides he might be best utilized filling the role Ion had called out to the people within earshot and lead those nearby to the exit. "I'll round up the folks in the dining hall an' get 'em out the exit as orderly as I can," he announces to the remaining evac. crew as he moves to the dining area, helping people up and into a semblence of a line to the tunnel entrance. Special attention is paid to collecting children and pairing them with adults who can either carry them or take them by the hand to avoid anyone being lost or trampled in the panicked crowd. Isra pushes through the smoke, occasionally encouraging evacuees with a gentle press of the wing as she passes them. She keeps a low stance for better speed and visibility, but would probably have overshot the correct window without Dusk's guidance. She gives his hand a gentle squeeze--light press of talons and all--before letting go to push the antique window open. "The window on the other side." Whether from smoke, stress, or something else, her voice has taken on an odd dual quality, at once crisp alto and gravelly bass. "Do we just crash through it?" She does not sound particularly troubled by this prospect. "Go on forward and help out the people in the fron'." Eric orders. The two other police officers hesitate a minute, one of them beginning to protest, "But Sarge--". Eric's voice cuts him off. "That's an order. Go." After the two police officers have disappeared off towards the front, Eric flips up the front visor of his helmet and glances around. "Dusk?" he calls, voice a low hiss. "You in here?" He pauses for a second, then pokes his head into the dining room. "The back door is clear to the alleyway. Go, quickly, before the rest of the police come!" He tells one of the mutants near the door. The entrance of police officers into the crowded churchhall is met with no small dose of hostility from the mutants gathered inside. One small girl rapidly darts away to hide behind Micah's legs; one teenager abruptly bares a mouthful of small but very /sharp/-pointed teeth. There's an uncomfortably chill gusting of wind starting up in another corner, swirling the smoke thinner in some places and thicker where it wafts towards Eric. "-- some trick," mutters a man by the door, ushering an older woman he is helping to walk over towards Hercules so that he can face Eric with a host of spiny quills starting to grow from his skin. /He/ might look familiar to Eric, from months ago in Central Park. "I'll keep them off," he's already looking behind Eric to the busted door, narrowed eyes searching for anyone who might be behind. "We don't want to fight you, we're just getting out of here." Outside, there is a wealth of noise; orders squawked across radios, the rattling from somewhere up front of rapid gunfire; the back alley looks clear, though. From the side alleyway between the two buildings there is not much past one pair of police also in riot gear evidently here to watch the windows, though admittedly much of /their/ attention is focused on the ones at the ground floor. The few dotted snipers who have been watching this building for quite some time, though -- well. They're /largely/ still as unobtrusive as ever, though glimpseable here and there for those astute adventurers who care to look /up/. Thea practically shrieks in rage when she sees the police enter, flicking her normally limp wings out to a broad X shape, reaching far out to either said, touching the ceiling with one pair, and the floor with the other. But when Eric turns out to be an ally, she stops herself with a deep breath. She calls out to Hercules, and when he pokes his huge head and horn back through the entrance, she points at Micah. "Follow his lead! He needs your help, Herc." The bipedal beetle trundles over towards Micah, placing an enormous, yet gentle hand on the small man's shoulder. "Let's do." Meanwhile, Thea makes a very high pitched noise and two soldier ants the size of Great Danes scuttle out of the exit and join her, ready to hold the stairs and cover anyone's retreat. The ants' saliva hisses when it drips on the concrete basement floor. "Up here," Dusk calls back down when Eric calls his name; it's a little hoarse through the drifting smoke as he makes his way up to the second story along with Isra. He stands for only a moment inside the opened window, drawing in a long deep breath as he looks across the short hop through the alleyway beyond. "-- Looks like." He doesn't sound /quite/ as unbothered as Isra, but he climbs into the window, standing there for only a second before leaping for the window opposite. His wings curl in tightly behind himself in the instant before impact, folded in so that his shoulder and the long outer bones meet glass rather than the soft thinner membranes. From the inside he actually /opens/ the window and the one adjacent, shoving it up to avoid anyone else having to deal with the jagged shards of glass; his shirt is torn and one wing stippled with blood, though he seems largely alright. "If you want to get people up /to/ this window," he calls across to Isra, "I can fly them across." Ion freezes at the entrance of the police officers, regarding them with suspicion as a soft crackling sounds in the air around him. "-- You know this p -- man?" he calls to Dusk in passing when Eric addresses the winged man by name, but then he just hisses in mild annoyance. "You want to help, help people follow them," he tells Eric, gesturing to both Micah and Dusk and Isra as they head up the stairs. And then he is taking the opposite stairs back up into the fray upstairs, two at a time the way he came to help evacuate the chaotic inferno upstairs. The sound of gunfire from outside is not /helping/ the tense and intermittently panicked air within the basement. "They're shooting," one man shouts , fear evident in his voice, and from there the panic only grows. "-- Here? Now? Who's hurt? Is it that --" Someone is pointing at Eric. "/No/ upstairs," someone else answers, and then, "everything's on fire!" Out in the back alley, a new team of officers are rolling up to back up the first. "Fire?" one of them calls to his two companions, "did we have an order to fire?" "They're torching us upstairs," answers a second grimly, "I think we might have to." He's shouldered his assault rifle, peering through its scope at the smokey building. "Stand down," comes the order from the leader of the trio, "everyone on the floor, hands on your heads." In all the commotion, it's actually reasonably easy, up on the higher levels, to miss the one quieter zing of bullet, whizzing from a nearby rooftop to ping against the windowframe just a second after Dusk has vacated it. Micah scoops up the girl clinging to his legs, settling her on his right hip as he continues to direct people toward the exit. He pets at her hair idly as he bustles, whispering soothing nonsense between giving out directions. When Herc approaches for instruction, he passes the girl to a woman whose arms look both strong and empty. "You're in charge of her gettin' out," he instructs firmly before moving to the front of the line. A young man who appears to be keeping himself together there receives a pat on his shoulder. "You, make sure these people keep doin' what we've said. Calmly, to the exit, kids paired up with adults. Until y'get other orders from our side or /good sense/ tells otherwise." Local tasks delegated, he directs Herc to the back stairway. "Let's get the folks down who can't take themselves. Sure there's more injured now than there were before. Whatever friends y'got as can be spared t'carry, bring 'em with." And with that, he's headed up the stairs, eyes scanning for persons in need of transport out, his path hugging the walls where it can. "I /said/ on the floor. Hands on your head, get /down/." This time, the command is punctuated by two rounds of gunfire from the officer giving the orders. The first goes wide, splintering the wood just by Micah's shoulder, though the second is better aimed towards Micah as he starts to head up into the stairwell. Isra /sees/ the shot more than she hears it--a puff of mortar dust and splintered wood where Dusk was just standing. Nevertheless, she climbs onto the casement in his wake, crouched like a proper gargoyle, and springs across the gap. Her timing proves inferior to Dusk's, however, wings tucking in far too early. If only by a foot or two, her trajectory ends in the apartment's outer wall rather than the window. She manages to catch herself on the ledge, talons sinking deep into the wood. The thumb claws on her wings, too, hook onto the windowframe and, bracing feet against the wall, she hauls herself through the window. Somewhere in the midst of this desperate scramble, Isra catches a puff of pink dust in her peripheral vision. Another bullet? Striking the brick beside her, perhaps. She has no time to investigate. A fraction of a second later she is inside, pupils dilating rapidly to suit the relative darkness. Her landing rattles the floor, causing glass shards to dance and then lie still again. With a nod at Dusk to acknowledge his instruction, she makes for the door without stopping to check herself for injuries. Eric's voice is commanding as he turns and shouts out the door, "Hold your fire, hold your fire!" He sticks his head out, pointing at the other end of the alleyway. "Someone just hit my partner in the face and broke through a window out that way! Did you see 'em? Lieu wants you to follow 'em." His shield is up, blocking the hallway with the bulletproof plastic. "There's two apartments up here; you get the folks in the farther one to this window and I'll get them across." Dusk has either not noticed the shots outside or is choosing to not think about them; his attention seems focused inward. The people on this side of the buildings are in more need of help for movement than those in the church, various longstanding illnesses and injuries placing them over in the quieter more comfortable rooms up here. Dusk wastes no time after this before starting to scout out the apartment they have jumped into, starting to help its occupants towards the window. He curls his arms around his first charge, a man whose wheelchair he apologizes for having to leave behind. The added weight in his arms hampers him less than the trickiness of carrying someone out the open window, but eventually he manages a sideways twist to get them both outside. Getting back into the other window looks like an uncomfortable effort, and judging by the pallor on his face when he returns to the apartments, this time he /does/ notice the quiet whizz-thunk of bullet against windowsill. He does not mention it to the people inside, though, just continuing to bring the occupants from apartment to church. Getting them down the stairs afterwards will likely be another feat in itself, but at the moment he is rather focused on the task at hand. Micah is only halfway up the staircase when the bullet strikes his right flank, turning him roughly toward the wall before he falls forward from the force of the unexpected impact, barely managing to break his fall with his arms thrown out in front of him. Any cry he might have given is lost in a sharp gasp for air. His body strikes the stairs with a thud, sliding in a rather ungraceful return to the basement floor from which he'd started and leaving a streak of red along the length of the steps. Two splotches of purple form on his blue shirt, slowly becoming redder as the colour from the blood dominates that of the fabric, seeping from the sources far-lateral on his back and further in on his abdomen to become a single pool of deep crimson. Hercules, close at Micah's side, growls when he sees the man go down, and scoops him up, immediately heading back down the stairs with this new passenger. His head swivels side-to-side, searching for his mistress, and he charges toward where she stands guard with her ant minions. "Go!" Thea yells at the beetle-man. "Get him to the tunnels!" Thea points in the direction of the gunfire inside the church and commands the ants to attack. Both of the burly, hard-shelled specimens surge forward, chasing the police who opened fire, hoping to chomp off some legs. One of the officers checks the alley behind him and shakes his head. "It's all clear out there. Stay on task," he tells his team. "It's /this/ place we need to clear, we have orders not to /pursue/, the backup teams will -- fuck, Sergeant, get out of the way." Thankfully (for the officers at the end of the hall, at least,) Eric and his riot shield are a temporary barrier in the hallway between them and the charging ants. The officers hold their ground -- unleashing a barrage of assault rifle fire, if Eric /does/ move out of the path of the oncoming ants, straight for their mouths and eyes. Even with Micah down, their help and instructions have cleared the bulk of the refugees out of the churchhall and the chapel upstairs, though those from the neighboring apartments still need to make it over. In the apartments, the people are at least calmer -- frightened but spared the worst of the chaos of the gunfire and smoke and flashbangs downstairs. It makes the task of transporting them from apartment to apartment to church a more orderly thing -- perhaps still /more/ orderly for the fact that many of them have difficulties moving on their own and thus were not in the dining hall with the rest of the group for lunchtime. Still, they're more than willing to get /out/ of the soon-to-be raided building; getting them to the windows is not hard. The gunshots even seem to have quieted, for much of this process. It's only with the last two people remaining on Isra's side that one of the bullets aimed at Dusk finally finds home, whizz-thunk dulled softer by hitting flesh instead of wood. Dusk is just emerging from the apartment windows, poised to leap when that bullet hits. There's a moment where it's hard to tell -- he topples forward /anyway/, one wing beating harder than the other at the air as he delivers his armload of teenage boy over to the opposite windows. But by the time he works the kid inside the blood staining his shirts is visibly wet, and one wing crumples in against his back limply. "Fff -- get the last two over. You should -- be able to do this," he calls back to Isra; it's with teeth sharply gritted in effort that he pulls himself through the window to thud down among the evacuees on the other side. Eric stands in the hall, not moving and briefly keeping the two groups apart, glancing back and forth. "Hey!" he yells, turning to the ants. "Get down!" The hand holding the baton raises slightly, coming up as extra defense against ant-invasion. "Hold your fire!" This is directed behind him, as the police officer glances back and forth. His voice to the ants is low, almost vanishing in the bustle of all that is going on. "Get back. Help the rest out, quickly." Ion has been helping direct people from the chapel down to the basement, but with that level cleared out he is making one last sweep of the building. Somewhere up on the main floor there's an enormous crashing rumble; he's a little /dusty/ when he makes his appearance on the second floor, but looks calm for all that. A very determined, teeth-gritted sort of calm. He says nothing. Just starts helping the people by the window down past the smoke and to the basement. "I must carry you over one at a time," Isra tells her last two charges, her higher voice cracking to leave only the low growl. Not waiting for an argument, she turns to the younger looking of the two and lifts him. "Hold on tightly and keep your head down." Then, to the other one, "I'll be right back." The boy is shaking in her arms as she climbs into the window--with good cause, as she almost topples forward into the alley before learning to balance his weight. Isra leaps, a single powerful stroke of her wings propelling them up and forward and through the open window into the church. The tips of both wings clip the window frame; she stumbles but, tail whipping wildly, manages not to fall and crush the young man in her arms. She hands him over to Ion and turns back to the window at once, eyes lingering on Dusk as she prepares to launch herself back at the apartment building. The ants attacking the police barely register anyone yelling at them. They have no facial expressions, and their demeanor stays focused on their original targets. Thea stands back, watching the cowering police for the span of two long breaths, before turning her back on them without recalling the ants. She shouts over her shoulder, "Kill them, and get to the tunnels." Hercules has already been trundling in that direction, doing his best to keep Micah safe. The ants on the other hand are struggling. They're big and strong, but their best asset, the acidic saliva, is practically useless against the heavy plastic shield. They switch tactics then, instead of scrabbling against the shield, they try to duck and swerve to grab the edges of the shield in their mandibles, to take it away if they can. Dusk might not be any good for flying, at the moment, but walking he can messily handle. It takes a moment for him to pull himself to his feet to loop his arm under the shoulders of one rather thin-looking young woman, but then he is off, too, heading downstairs with her to deliver her into the tunnels. "-- What the /fuck/," is his reaction when he sees the ants, "God/dammit/ Thea --" But he has a person to take care of; the ants get nothing more than a baleful glare. It's only once he reaches the tunnels -- and Hercules -- that the rest of the colour drains from his already paling face. "Micah --" He leaves the woman he is with in the care of another, turning to sprint back in to the church to find the first-aid supplies in the storeroom. Ion is close behind Dusk with his own person-cargo, bearing the boy similarly en route to the tunnels. It's Dusk's reaction more than the presence of the ants themselves that catches his note; when he sees the policemen beyond them he swears in quiet Spanish, turning the boy in his arms also over to one of the already-fleeing mutants in the tunnels. He runs straight /towards/ the ants; it takes little more than a hand placed on both of them before all /three/ vanish in a faint scent of ozone. Ion reappears in short order, on the upper floor. The ants do not. "Is that the last?" he calls through the window to Isra. Eric drops his baton on the floor and reaches for his side-arm as the ants spit and fight against the shield, but their vanishing act leaves his hand awkwardly frozen on the butt of his weapon. He reaches down, picking the baton up and shaking the gross off of the front of his shield. "Thanks." He looks behind him and glances at the other two officers. "Move up and clear the front hall. I've got the upstairs." The police officers approach, cautiously. One of them pats Eric on the back, once, a heavy movement and a muttered, "Yeah, Sarge," as they pass down the hall and head towards the front of the building. "Yes, I've got her," Isra calls to Ion across the gap." /Go./" The tips of Isra's wings are trembling violently by the time she reaches the last evacuee in the apartment. She admonishes the young woman to hold on tight as she climbs into the window again. "All for one?" her charge mutters in her ear, pointedly not looking down. "And one for all," Isra replies,wrapping one arm around the teen and pushing off. Her wings are slower, but whipping the air furiously: once, twice, and they almost overshoot the target. Isra's horns save her from knocking her skull on the window frame, and this time she does tumble on the landing, though she shields the girl as best she can and comes to her feet, dusty but in one piece. She does not pause for breath, but, wrapping both wings over herself and her terrified charge, heads for the exit. Ion nods at Isra, and promptly vanishes once more for a brief stop in the inferno upstairs. Wherever he reappears in the end, it is not among the church's escapees. Somewhere upstairs, there is further cracking crumbling sounds. Orders being shouted, stone thudding down atop a heavily armoured truck. What follows this is hardly quiet -- wailing sirens outside, voices angrily debating -- but in the empty (and crumbling) church, it will have to pass for peace.