ArchivedLogs:Dead On Arrival
| Dead On Arrival | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
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2014-03-18 Warning: Scene involves the corpses of children. Post Forest Fire and The Lorax. |
| Location
<NYC> Tompkins Square Park - East Village, <XS> Medical Lab, Bay of Bengal | |
A phone call would come to Aloke at... some point on Tuesday evening. Well, Tuesday evening in /New York/. Who the heck knows what time it is wherever Aloke is? Either way: RING, RING. Aloke has been back for a day, and without the somewhat more gradual change of a plane flight, layovers and naps in between, 'jet lag' has hit him pretty hard. Anyway, he's napping when the call comes. He sits up on the couch and clears his throat, momentarily confused about the noise his phone is making, and finally picks it up. "Uh, hello?" "--Professor Suresh there was a fire at the Lofts and a lot of people were hurt and I need to know how quickly you can bring me my scuba gear at Xavier's we need to go to the Bay of Bengal." Peter's voice is just a /rush/ of air, gaspy and wheezy and just a /little/ quaver-y. "Wait... what?!" Aloke stands up, his mind clearing quickly, flushed with adrenalin at the thought of so many injured. "What does Bengal have to do with the Lofts?" "Spencer--" Peter begins, then there's another choked sound -- and a moment where he's breathing hard, /forcing/ himself to slow down. Aloke may very well be able to hear him counting back from ten under his breath. Counting back /very/ quickly. "--Spencer teleported. He had a Xavier phone. GPS. Bay of Bengal. I need... I have scuba gear in my room, at the school. I need it, so I can get him. Can you -- get us there?" In the background, there is the sound of distant sirens. "Goddamnit... /Yes/, I'll be right there. Where are you now?" Aloke asked. "East Village. Tompkins Square Park. Other side -- the side not facing the Lofts. I'm wearing..." Peter's voice gets a little lower, here -- muffled: "I'm wearing a black mask and, um, body-armor. We have to -- I don't know how long we have he's probably /really/ hurt and..." "I'll be there in a minute," Aloke says, and he doesn't wait for Peter's reply before flashing to Peter's room, cutting off the phone call. He collects the gear and flexes his hands anxiously while he waits for his ability to recharge, taking the time to make sure Xavier and Mallory know what's going and can deploy the resources he sees fit. When he's ready, Aloke finally beams out the window with Peter's gear in tow. Peter's waiting for Aloke along the edge of Tompkins Square Park; the sirens are in the distance, the smoke and soot still building. The boy's wearing... well, he's downright /unrecognizable/ -- clad in hexacomb-patterned black body-armor and a 'mask' that covers his whole head, with his buggy white eyes nearly glowing in the darkness of the park -- pacing, impatiently, phone in hand. When Aloke arrives in that flash of light, Peter is /fast/ -- zooming right toward Professor Suresh to snatch the scuba gear out of his hands... and immediately move behind a tree. The mask is off in an instant; the suit is soon following after: "Haven't tested this in water. Not as deep as I'll be going, at least," Peter explains, his voice frantic. He's throwing the pieces of the armor up -- into the branches of the tree over him, out of immediate sight. Stripping down to bare chitin, Peter's face turns briefly indigo -- but then he's clamboring inside of the scuba suit, wriggling and twisting, locking it on as quickly as he can. When he emerges from behind that tree, he's got on -- flipper feet, the suit, and the breathing apparatus. Already making a steady, solid hissing sound. He pops it out long enough to tell Aloke: "--I'm probably going to... be down there for a while, um, sir. Thank you for -- coming so quickly." Aloke nods and turns away while the boy is changing. "That's ok, Peter. We'll find him... Just, make sure your equipment is on right. It's gonna be much harder to check in the water." Aloke paces briefly while his skin gradually regains its glow, soon bright enough to light up the immediate area. He didn't have time to apply his special sunscreen, so the intensity is turned right up to that of a bare lightbulb. He's currently wearing black and gray board shorts, and a long-sleeved red swim shirt. When he turns around to find Peter he nods, looking over the equipment briefly, and then explains quickly, "This feels really weird the first time. Just don't panic. It feels like you can't breathe, but you don't /need/ to. Try not to hyperventilate when we get there. Breather on?" He waits just long enough for Peter to confirm his readiness, and then he reaches out to grip Peter's shoulder. The two dissolve into a beam of light which threatens logic and Science itself as time grinds to a halt and the trip at the same time seems to stretch on forever. In reality, a fraction of a second has passed when they materialize three feet above the water approximately near where Peter was hoping for. Aloke leans away from Peter to not get tangled up as they drop. When they hit the water he gasps, treading to keep his head up. "Is this close? Do we need to look elsewhere?" The sun shines mercilessly down on the two. "Right. Um, yessir, it's on -- I..." Peter nods sharply at Aloke's explanation. And then -- OHGOD WHAT IS HAPPENING. When Peter hits the water, it's a strange, indescribable shock; for a moment, an instant seemed to stretch on to infinite -- and now here he is, thrashing in the Bay of Bengal. There's sunlight; there's the cold shock of water -- there's Professor Suresh, paddling next to him. There's... "--need to know," Peter gasps, bobbing up out of the water to tread, "which way is..." He looks up at the sun, judging its angle in the sky -- and shifting his head. To point... "--north," he says. "...if I don't come back up in thirty minutes, you'll have to -- find a way -- Shane, maybe --" This cryptic statement is the only warning Aloke gets that Peter /might/ not have been completely honest with what this exact job entails. Because in the next instant, he's shoving the rebreather in his face and /diving/ beneath the water, vanishing -- sinking down, powerful legs kicking to /propel/ him deep beneath the Bay of Bengal's crisp, blue waves. Aloke's eyes go wide as the boy reveals the full extent of his plan. "Wait, what..." He reaches forward to make contact with Peter, maybe to beam them back to shore for the moment, but between his jump fatigue, and Peter's deft agility, he has no chance. Aloke takes a deep breath and resigns himself to long spate of treading water. A quarter of an hour slides by as he waits, silently thanking the fates for all the swimming practice he got recently. There is a brief flash of something -- light? -- underneath Aloke. Peter's scuba suit includes a high-powered flashlight strapped to his side; he's likely brought it to bare as he sinks deeper and deeper. But after that temporary flutter of light... nothing. For fifteen minutes... nothing. Nothing but the steady flow and lap of water; the sound of Aloke's own heart-beat -- and the brutal, constant sun. With another deep breath, Aloke floats up to lay on his back. His body is not particularly buoyant, but he's athletic and strong from yoga so even just this brief rest for his arms and legs allow him to resume the treading water, checking his watch to check the time. For the man who can be around the world in an instant, waiting for another ten minutes or so feels like an eternity. He sinks his mind into an active meditation, allowing the movement of treading water to become autonomic. His watch will beep with thirty minutes is up, so he steels himself to not look until that time. ...and then. A flash of illumination under Aloke's feet; stirring in the water. Something -- is coming up! A good twenty feet away from Aloke, toward the north -- a splash, a /spurt/ -- Peter's head cresting the water. There's a hungry, clumsy gasp from his face, one hand latching out to grab the rebreather -- to /rip/ it off of him, spluttering and gulping -- continuing to tear away the mask. He looks like he's about to vomit; his body is shaking. There is something else he is carrying, in his other hand -- still beneath the waves. A pale human-sized lump that is left underwater. "--Medbay," is all Peter manages to croak. "Ah shit..." Aloke says when he sees the pale form in Peter's grasp. He helps to get Spencer's head above water, perhaps because at least part of the person he's bringing can't be submerged. Aloke grits his teeth when he has contact with both of them, and then pushes to force the transition to light travel even in the face of the sun's direct bombardment. In another endless instant, the three collapse dripping and sodden in the school's tiny medical facilities. Luckily, Aloke had already alerted the school to incoming patients before he left. Hank McCoy and his staff are on hand, ready and waiting for the soggy arrivals. With Aloke and Peter at least moving some, the lab assistants leap to Spencer's side, starting CPR right there on the floor. Hank moves instead to gently drag Aloke and Peter away from their work. For his part, it looks like Aloke is completely unconscious, and his glow is gone, but he's breathing steadily enough. Probably just exhausted. Spencer is -- not in good shape. He's actually nearly unrecognizable. In fact, no sooner have the lab assistants started administering CPR then would one of them probably give up. He's been dead for -- probably an hour, probably a little longer -- clearly from the burns and injuries he received in the blast. No sooner has Peter hit the med-bay then is he dropping to his hands and knees, heaving up and /vomiting/ whatever he had for dinner last night. Spaghetti and spicy sausage, by the looks of it. He shudders, looking like a fish that's just been dragged out of the water and thrown onto the floor. "--Karrie," he croaks, to Professor Hank, before just kind of -- rolling up on his side. *SPLRT*. Dripping wet, looking like he's about to vomit again. "--is Spence. Bring Karrie -- please." *GLK*. Dry-heaves. Karrie's phone would start ringing late on Tuesday night -- so late that it might qualify for Wednesday morning. If answered, she'd be confronted immediately with the sound of wet *glrking* and coughing -- distinctly Peter-ish in origin. Karrie's phone doesn't actually get answered. It goes to voicemail: "Hiiiiii, this is Karrie I'm not here leave a message." But a few minutes later Peter's phone rings back. "--oh thank you," Peter mumbles, his voice rasping weakly through a strangled choke: "Hello? Karrie? Is that you?" "What." Karrie sounds -- extraordinarily exhausted. And /more/ than a little cranky, unlike her usual actually pretty friendly self. "Karrie -- " There's another rough spot of coughs; it takes Peter a little bit to compose himself, but he finally manages to do it. Albeit through quite a lot of lip-smacking: "Karrie I'm really sorry that -- I know you're probably --" He swallows, before croaking weakly: "Spencer." There's a very long stretch of silence, at this. Then a rough-hoarse gasp of breath that sounds rather like a sob. And then the line goes dead as Karrie hangs up the phone. | |
