ArchivedLogs:Structurally Unsound

Structurally Unsound
Dramatis Personae Eric, Gwen, Jax, Steve, Spencer	2016-01-04 "Don't patronize me, either."
Location <NYC> Lower East Side
Historically characterized by crime and immigrant families crammed into cramped tenement buildings, the Lower East Side is often identified with its working-class roots. Today, it plays host to many of New York's mutant poor, although even here they are still often forced into hiding. It's still sunny out -- if only just -- but sun or no sun it's still brisk and cold and very /winter/, right now. Jax is bundled, tall black boots over purple skinny jeans, a black asymetrically-cut jacket, black infinity scarf threaded with glittery silver thread, black and purple knit cap pulled down over his head. Hands shoved in his pockets as he makes his way down the wide sidewalks, cuts through a small park -- there's already a smile on his face as he starts hurrying nearer to one of the buildings on its edge. Outside Ner Tamid Community Day School, a small congregation of children is lingering after their MAD SCIENCE after-school club. The buildings around the school (like so many in the city) are undergoing reconstruction, scaffolding spiderwebbed high over the outsides to start repairing damage. "{-- Oh my goodness,}" Jax is saying this to Steve before he's actually gotten near the school or its children, just /eying/ the knot of kids playing outside, "{/freezing/ outside and he's not even wearing his hat /or/ gloves what am I going to /do/ with that boy.}" Steve is wearing a navy blue peacoat and much-mended blue jeans over slightly mud-spattered combat boots. The scarf looped around his neck is brightly rainbow-colored in contrast to the rest of him, as is the knit cap on his head, which from certain angles looks merely like red-and-white stripes...until you notice the white star in a blue circle at the crown. The shield cap is /kind/ of redundant, though, given that he wears his actual shield on a harness across his back. He shakes his head. "{Find for him hat and gloves that are more interesting, maybe?} he suggests, his Spanish still awkward but no longer halting. "{/Computerized/ hat and gloves.}" Gwen is wearing a wool coat though it's clearly seen better days, thread bare and stained in multiple places. The rest of her clothes aren't much better though judging by the attempts to patch them, she's at least /tried/ to make them presentable. The only piece of clothing that looks anything close to good shape are the yellow gloves she's wearing. Currently, she's sitting at a park bench, half people watching, half slowly enjoying the large cup of coffee she has clutched in her hands. "{How do you computerize a hat? I can... /knit/ a hat?}" Jax looks very earnest about this question, really, as he hastens nearer the edge of the park. Across the street, a couple of the children have been playing while they wait for their parents -- two of them are scaling the scaffolding that has been constructed on the ramshackle building next door to the school. Which, at the moment, is wobbling. And wobbling, as one little girl tries to reach over and tag her companion -- -- slips, falls -- -- and with it, with a rattle, a clunk, a clatter, the entire structure starts to fall, heavy metal beams and wood platforms and all caving downwards in a heavy crunching tumble, with the children still below. "OhgodSpence." This tiny whisper from Jax is drowned out by the sudden shrieks from across the street. There's a flare of light, a sudden shimmer, from somewhere in the pile of collapsing construction materials. Heedless of traffic, Jax is sprinting across the street, now. Steve's eyes were already following the climbing children, though only with a idle, general sort of concern. When the scaffolding begins to collapse, he neither gasps nor stops -- as most of the passers-by do -- to stare. He, too, leaps into the street and outstrips Jax in very short order. Though the cars were already moving slow, and slower now for the sudden crash and shrieks, he still has to vault over the hood of one car and run right up onto yet another one before reaching the other side. "Stand back!" seems to be directed toward bystanders both young /and/ old. Then, singling out one Chinese woman who has frozen, mid-text, "Call 911, {please.}" He drops to one knee as he skids to a halt on the sidewalk to one side of the debris pile, trying to peer in through the settling dust. "{Try to stay still!}" this tumbles out in French, and he quickly repeats it in much less grammatical Spanish. He grits his teeth and looks up, following the line of the fallen scaffolding to discern how much more might be yet to fall. Between the shrieks and the sudden crashing sounds, it's not hard to get Gwen's attention, even if she actively tries to avoid directing her attention any one place. Unlike the others, she's not so quick to jump up and assist. She does rise from her bench but then pauses, as if something were holding her back. Wide eyes taking in the situation, she suddenly takes a deep breath, making her way towards collapsed scaffolding. It takes her a bit longer as she tries to avoid cars and waits for them to pass rather than rushing in front or over them. By the time she makes it over, Steve seems to have control of the situation. Unsure, she glances hesitantly towards the bystanders, some of whom seem to be a tad eager to get a better or view or in some cases, pictures of the chaos. "Um, alright, let's take a step back," she says, a shakiness in her voice betraying that she isn't usually one to take leadership as she attempts to keep the bystanders at a safe distance. The call into 911 -- and then the several after it -- are quickly routed through to the New York City Emergency Dispatch Center in Brooklyn. It doesn't take long for the first radio calls to go out. "Engine 15, Ladder 18, Rescue 1, Batallion 4, Ambulance 4, Ambulance 6, 2-2, we have a building collapse in progress at Box 0023." "Unit 3, Dispatch, 10-59, building collapse in progress." "Unit 5, Dispatch, 10-59, report to Rivington and Essex." "All units, Dispatch, 10-66, building collapse in progress at Rivington and Essex. Nearby units 10-3." In the bustle of 911 calls, one particular one stands out to one of the busy dispatchers. A wave, and a brief conversation with a supervisor, and one more radio call goes out, on a secure frequency. "MID 2, Dispatch. 10-50 to Rivington and Essex with a report of someone using some kind of glowing telekenesis to pull down a building." A number of gawkers in the park across the street seem -- none too eager to get any closer to the tumble of heavy metal beams, though several are only too happy to /record/ the event. Some of the other children /not/ caught in the initial collapse are trying to get closer, fretting over the panicked cries from underneath. Jax's teeth are gritting, a faint web of prismatic shimmer now climbing its way up the half-fallen structure. Lopsided and caved in, its motion is arrested mid-collapse, perched with unnatural precariousness right where it is. There are still voices from -- somewhere /under/ the pile that's fallen. "{-- Hey! Hey help, please --}" "-- I think Margot broke her leg!" "{Pa are you there? Pa that's you right?}" Just beside the no-longer-avalanching pile, Jax is -- a little paler. A little stiffer. "-- Please, keep 'em back --" He's saying this to -- Gwen, she's nearest, now, nodding at the children still approaching. "Steve, I'm gonna need a hole in that mess." Steve eyes the gravity-defying debris a /little/ suspiciously, but not for very long. He steps up to the heap and lays his hands gently on one of the larger beams lying bent but not broken amidst the chaos of poles and cables and tarps, testing it as one might a Jenga block. It looks like the least entangled piece of any significant size. And it's...pretty significant. "You keep the stuff above it from slipping down." This is to Jax, very quietly. Then he stoops down to lift the massive hunk of metal. It doesn't look physically possible at first, with so little leverage, but with a slow, ominous creak it budges. Steve doesn't even really look like he's exerting himself all that much, but his brows furrow with concentration as he hoists the beam up to his shoulder, opening a narrow passage into the wreckage -- which now balances even more precriously than it did before. As she's...asked to assist, Gwen weakly nods and glances towards two children who, with childish good intentions, have attempted to slip past and help their friends. "Hey, hey...go over there and wait for your parents, ok? It's gonna be ok. Everyone's ok," Gwen says, putting on a fake but calm voice in an attempt to soothe the children's nerves. They nod slowly and Gwen smiles, nodding her head off to the side, well away from any debris that may or may not fall. Speaking of which, she glances behind her to the tangled mess, her eyes widening as she realizes just how bad it is. "You guys, um...you guys gonna be ok?" she asks, again with a timid tone that suggests she's asking just out of politeness and really, really hopes that don't ask her to help. Though Steve's handling of the situation both convinces her they're good and momentarily distracts her with his apparent ability to bend physics to his will. Only momentarily though as she's soon back to keeping an eye on the little ones, guiding them away and occasionally comforting them. It does not take long for sirens to sound from seemingly all directions, the loud honking of air horns bouncing down the straight streets of the Lower East Side. The first set of flashing lights that pull up onto the scene, driving straight up onto a curb a half block down from the scaffolding, is a police cruiser - a good old fashioned Crown Vic. The siren is cut off with a whine as two officers quickly get out of the cruiser, looking up at the twisted metal which is giving old Newton's apple a giant middle finger. This sight distracts them -- not to mention the casual lift of a steel beam that must weigh almost as much as the cruiser they sped in on. It doesn't keep them from the crying and the screams from too long, though, stepping quickly over to help Gwen herd those who can move away from the fallen structure, push the crowd back onto the sidewalk and out of the way. Just in case gravity decides to reassert itself. "Thanks," Jax says a little breathlessly to Gwen; there's a very faint glow around him, now, his teeth pressing down to his lower lip. "We're gonna be --" His answer cuts off in a wail of sirens. His eye scrunches up in a deeper grimace. There's a not very reassuring shiver from the structure; one loose beam skitters off its perch and rolls away down the sidewalk. "... oh great." One skinny boy is crawling out from the hole Steve had made, though, pressed flat on his belly and looking kind of shaken up. "... It stopped falling.}" He sounds /pretty/ confused about this. "Margot's bleeding." "Jax..." Steve's voice is tight, but calm. "Hold on." Hard to say now who he's talking to, but then, "{Kids, heads down.}" He scoots as close to the rest of the debris as he can, the beam scraping along his shoulder as he shifts, and starts to stand up. Now he /does/ have leverage, when he straightens up -- briefly Atlas-like as he also braces his arms against the surrounding wreckage -- the beam lifts more dramatically, making a much larger opening. Though now the exertion does show on Steve's face, his jaw tight with strain, his face growing red. "Go, go, go! Margot, can you move? Can the rest of you help her?" The sound of sirens definitely gets Gwen's attention as she's usually the type to avoid authority of any kind. Then again, she tends to avoid people in general yet here she is. So after a quick glance towards approaching officers, she resumes her herding duties, even when the officers take over. As the boy crawls out of the hole, Gwen looks over him, her heart breaking with concern. Still, she quickly makes her way over and, leaning forward to rest her hands on his shoulder, firmly but gently guides him away from the mess. "Don't worry, they'll help Margot. She'll be fine, I promise." More sirens, getting louder and louder, before they cut off as the trucks begin to pull up. The fire department shows up in a crowd -- engines, ladder trucks, ambulances, and an SUV driven by an older officer with a white helmet. Firefighters jog up to Jax and Steve, as an EMT come up to help Gwen with the child. "Alright, let's get some bracing up," one of the firefighters orders, looking up at the metal with a faint green tinge on his face. "Come on, come on, move it!" he yells back towards the truck. One of the ladders begins rising into the air. Another firefighter, this one with a bag of gear hauled over his shoulder, approaches Steve. "Can you hold that up, Cap?" he asks, shining a flashlight into the hole. The firefighters are not alone, however. Another police cruiser pulls up, two more officers getting out, blocking off part of the street and beginning to set up a post. One of the two officers eyes Jax, arms crossed over his chest, as he examines the wreckage. "Y'all should -- maybe jus' -- stand clear -- this whole thing's gonna come down the moment I -- oh gosh Spence." Jax doesn't actually move from where he's standing, save to crouch down, the glow around him brightening further as Spencer comes backing out of the wider tunnel Steve has made; he's got his arms hooked under a smaller girl's, helping ease her out, too. Helping her to her feet once they have gotten out; the girl has a bad gash down her head, blood trickling down the side of her face, and leans heavily on Spence to keep weight off one leg as she limps away from the pile. Some of the other children are huddling around Gwen -- the smallest boy who only just got out of the pile clings to her side as he's guided away, still rather shaken. "Pa that's it," Spence calls to his dad. "I mean nobody else is under." Jax's brows furrow in deep concern, looking over at Steve. Looking at the firefighters. "Please stand back. I can't hold this up much longer." "I'm fine, but the rest of this --" Steve cranes his head away from the children as they evacuate to look up at the trembling wreckage above them. The beam he is holding up is bending -- has /been/ bending -- under the weight of the debris above it. He looks back down just in time to see Spence getting Margot out. "Everyone get back, /now/!" His voice isn't any /louder/, but it has taken on a definite commanding tone that rises above the din somehow. The beam lets out a harrowing screech as the steel finally breaks under pressure. Steve delays as long as he dares, but the moment the firefighters get clear of the wreckage he drops into a diagonal roll. The beam stops tearing and crashes to the sidewalk where he stood a split second ago, smashing the concrete and sending up a cloud of gray dust as the rest of the structure groans and begins to unravel without its support. Unhitches his shield as he regains his feet. Tackles Jax -- hard; there will be /deep/ bruises later -- shield raised behind them to deflect any smaller debris that might come flying out. As the urgency in their voices rise, Gwen moves to rush towards the girl as she's pulled free, soon realize the mob of children that has surrounded her. Instead, she waits for them to pIn the name of speed, rather than having the girl limp, she quickly (and carefully) lifts the girl up, carrying her away from the wreck and into the arms of a medical professional. Just as she's passing the child off, she hears Steve's loud warning. No time to think, she quickly reaches out her arms and gives any children within her reach a less than gentle shove away from the mess, instinctively ducking down when the metal finally does come crashing down. The firefighters react quickly to the warning -- after all, buildings falling down are quite literally part of their job description. The firefighter nearest to Steve follows him down to the ground, covering -- in part -- both Steve and Jax with his body as protection against the falling debris. Not quite a shield, but, needs must. After all the metal has fallen, the firefighters immediately take control of the scene, chief roaring out orders, firefighters scurrying to and fro to stabilize the remaining parts of rubble, shine flashlights between crevices and calling out to check no one is under the pile of metal. "Ya know, Jax, if ya wanted to see me, you could'a just called." The accent is familiar, amused, as Eric steps out from in between two firetrucks and steps over towards Steve and Jax. "Didn't have to have a whole party with everyone, huh? Hiya, Captain. Sergeant Eric Sutton, head of MID." Eric reaches out a gloved hand, offering -- to shake, to help the other man up? The metal starts to crash and topple nearly the moment Jax is tackled, rattling and thunking downwards -- though the debris doesn't scatter quite as treacherously as it should have, a glowing bubble surrounding the crash. The worst of it sprays out to bang harmlessly against the shield and fall back inward; the shield itself fades once the clattering fades to a more subdued rollthunkthunkthunking. On the ground beneath -- a covering of BURLY FIREFIGHTER and BURLY CAPTAIN AMERICA and SHINY SHIELD, Jax is still catching his breath. Struggling back up with a wince. Kind of tentatively reaching for Eric's hand, though he's semi-interrupted by smallchild, Spence barreling over to hurtle into his side for a hug. "Did you /see/ that I pulled her out and she's not /dead/ and that woman took her to the medics and it's going to be okay right? Well maybe not okay some people are bleeding but everyone helped ARE YOU OKAY LADY?" Even while hugging Jax Spence is yelling this over towards Gwen. "Hey some of that fell on my school do you think they'll cancel school?" Jax just -- looks bemused at all this. Keeping one arm around Spence. Clasping Eric's hand to struggle back to his feet. "... uh." Blink. Blink. He looks at Eric. Looks at the firefighters. Over at Gwen. Down at Steve. "... y'aright?" This is about all the eloquence he's currently managing. "Yeah." Steve, though rather dusty, does in fact pretty much just fine as he climbs to his feet and offers a hand to hoist up the firefighter beside him with a quiet "Gracias." Scans the area, relaxing as he spots the swarm of children safe around Gwen. Waves to get her attention, then gives a thumb-up sign. He returns the shield to his back and nods to Eric. "Sergeant," he says, shaking hands -- his red knit gloves are rather chewed up, the skin raw where it can be seen through the tears, but his grip firm all the same. "How can I help you?" Gwen managed to avoid any serious injuries herself, the worst she gets is a fine coating of dust. Once the noise dies down a bit, she slowly rises, brushing some of that dust off as she looks around, taking her surroundings in. After deeming the children relatively safe and unharmed, she glances towards the others. "Yeah...yeah, I'm fine," she says, a bit flat with shock as she looks down again, perhaps to double check she did make it out ok. Steve's thumbs up is met with a strained smile. Spence's outburst does not go unheard, though other than a brief amused grin she ignores it. Now that her presence is no longer needed, she quickly shoves her gloves hands in her pockets and begins to walk off into the gawking crowd. Eric grasps Jax's hand and helps him up, putting an arm half around his shoulder. "You alright, then?" Though Eric shakes Steve's hand, he doesn't immediately answer. The police officer smiles brightly down at Spencer, reaching down and gently ruffling his hair once. "Heya, there, Spence! Remember me? Shane's friend, Eric." The police officer turns to look around the area, nodding slowly to himself. "Come on, Spence. Your Pa and the Captain are gonna help me at work for a little bit. You want to ride in the front of the police car with me?" Eric's smile is apologetic as he meets Steve's eyes. "Pardon me? I'm gonna what, sir?" Jax's already-heavy accent has, if anything, gotten abruptly /more/ Southern, his arm curling just a fraction tighter around Spencer as his weight shifts back, out from under Eric's arm and away half a step towards Steve instead. "I'm sure there ain't nothin' you need our help with, an' we really best be gettin' on home, Spence has had quite a scare." "/I/ wasn't scared," Spence protests. "Ben and Margot were scared but I got her out did you /see/ it was loud and dark but --" He cuts off with a frown at the squeeze of Jax's hand against his shoulder. "{... I'm just /saying/,}" he mutters, quieter. "We was supposed to be headin' for supper an' I'm well past due. I do appreciate all y'all's help, though. Y'take care, now, sir." Jax's head bobs in a quick nod. Steve is making /that/ face again -- eyebrows lifted, mouth slightly parted, head tipped forward -- at Eric. Not /exactly/ incredulous or confused, but maybe somewhere between the two, with a dash of innocent lost thrown in. He glances at Jax, whose reply (verbal or otherwise) evidently tells him all he needs to know. "Do not patronize Spence, he just saved a little girl's life," he says, firm but quiet. "It's was nice to meet you, if brief, but we'll be going now." "MOMMY! MOMMY!" a child yells from the crowd. Though certainly not the only cry for a parent heard within the last few minutes, it sticks out in that it's not out of fear but rather /excitement/. One of the children that Gwen had kept from venturing too near to the wreck suddenly holds up the scarf they had been wearing, ecstatic by it's magical transformation. What was originally a blue, knitted scarf is...well, it's still knitted. But instead of blue it's yellow. And not just yellow but bright and shiny. It still has the same texture and movement of cloth that it originated with but it feels smoother and colder. Almost like gold... Suddenly panicked, Gwen removes her hands from her pockets. The glove on her left hand (strangely enough almost identical to the scarf) has a tear, the tip of the pinky finger ripped almost clean off. Wide-eyed with fear, Gwen quickly shoves that hand back into her pocket and changes her plan - instead of blending in with the crowd, she quickly reverses direction, back towards the tangled metal, in an attempt to escape the crowd. The arm around Jax tightens, Eric's hand digging into Jax's shoulder. "Let's not do this in front of Spence, huh? I'll call Micah and have him picked up from the station while the two a' you're gettin' processed." Eric's voice is low, a murmur of words and a flick of a glance back down to Spencer. "Sure ain't mean'ta patronize. Sorry, Spence. You know, lots a' people much older'n you wouldn't have been able to do what you did. Even some police officers. You did-- good." He pauses, turning his attention briefly towards the commotion, grip tightening on Jax's shoulder when he looks away. Only briefly, though, gesturing with a free hand to one of the other police officers on the outskirts of the growd who step forward to push back the crowd further. Eric turns his attention back to Steve. "Captain, please." "/Stop/, don't -- touch -- /processed/, what are --" Jax /twitches/ back when Eric's hand tightens on him, shoulders curling inward defensively and his muscles tense, expression paling and a brief flicker of light shivering around him. His attention is drawn away by the yelling, drawn back to Eric by the -- "/Micah/?" Now he just looks -- lost, a tired slump to his shoulders. "Micah -- ain't -- why would --" Still tucked under Jax's arm, Spencer leans closer, drawing /his/ shoulders up taller and squarer when Jax's slump. "/I/ can get home on my /own/. Are you /arresting/ him? /Again/? That's /stupid/ he was saving us. Are you going to arrest them?" He's pointing to the firefighters. "Or her?" Now to Gwen. "Or him?" Now to Steve. "... oh. Wait you /are/." There's still a low unsteady shiver around Jax, flickering wan and dim. "... Spence, don't -- you should. Go home." The gaze Steve levels at Eric is icy cold now. "Don't patronize me, either. And don't use a child as an excuse when you know exactly what you're putting him through." Steve's hand clenches into a fist at his side, then relaxes, very deliberately. "/You/ have the choice to stand behind that badge and use it as a shield or a bludgeon. If you've made that choice already, then just say what you mean." Though, so saying, he catches sight of Gwen...going back toward the debris. He frowns, but doesn't take his attention off of Eric. "In any event, /take your hand off of him/. We're obviously not going anywhere." A few shouts rise from the bystanders, some either putting two and two together and figuring out it had to do with her. Or maybe they just assume she came with the other 'nonhumans' and that's enough evidence for them. Unfortunately for them, by the time they try to locate the girl, a raised hood and focused walk is enough for her to be missed by the angry individuals. Free of the crowd, she carefully skirts the edge of it before turning into a nearby alley, quietly slipping out of sight. Eric sighs and drops his hands to his side. "It seems I keep endin' up in this position with you, Jax. S' the park all over again, and I don't like it any better now n' I did then." Shaking his head, Eric clucks his tongue once. "I know you can get yourself home, Spence, and it is stupid. But it's the law, and I ain't allowed to let my personal feelin's get in the way of my job." He chuckles, once. "'In its majestic equality, the law forbids rich and poor alike to sleep under bridges.'" Eric says, wryly. The police sergeant straightens up, rolling his shoulders back. "Jackson Holland, Steve Rogers, you are both under arrest for violation of the city code on the display of mutant abilities. Turn around and put your hands behind your back. You have the right to remain silent; anything you do say can, and will, be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney; if you cannot afford one, an attorney will be appointed for you by the court. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?" Eric whistles once, sharply, gesturing with a jerk of his head to one of the police officers on the outskirts. "But that's --" Spence's voice is getting sharper again. "/Spence/." Jax sounds firm, now. "{Go home. Stay with Isra, okay? And tell the twins. I'll be fine.}" Spence looks like he's about to protest -- but another /look/ from his father and the child simply vanishes. Jax is standing up straighter again, turning around, hands folding neatly behind his back. "Heard 'em enough," he answers, "sure hope I understand 'em by now." "Your /choice./ Makes you complicit." There is a dangerous edge to Steve's voice and a sudden tension in his shoulders. "If an order is wrong it's your /duty/ to disobey, that hasn't got anything to do with /who/ --" But the actual reading of the charges puts /that/ look back his face again. It's hard to tell, by the timing of it, exactly which part confuses him most. Either way, the perplexity seems to override his fury somewhat. At Spencer's disappearance, he relaxes further. His eyes change focus, no longer looking at Eric, but kind of through his forehead. Turns around. Tucks his hands behind his back -- beneath the great round face of his shield. "I do."