Realistic or Modern Empire City: The Irish Mob - IC (Closed)

[Misty Gray]

Savannah Callahan​

Savannah was relieved to hear Danny tell her she wasn't being selfish for wanting to go to London for her career and also expecting him to wait for her in New York. She returned his soft smile and slowly nodded her head as he spoke of how he hadn't resented his parents when they moved to Bombay. She looked back into his eyes as his warm hands cupped her face. "If things go as I hope, you will be able to watch my career grow knowing you helped me get there. I was never going to give up on my dreams but you've helped me to stay positive and confident by being here for me over the last few months."

Her smiled beamed when Danny confirmed he would wait for her. Holding his hands, she gave them a gentle squeeze. "Phone calls and packages sound perfect. And i will do the same for you!" she enthusiastically told him. She fell into his embrace and closed her eyes to savour the moment of feeling content. When Danny continued to speak, in a sullen tone, Savannah pulled away from the embrace but made sure to take his hands in hers. She quickly shook her head at his words. "You're not going to lose me and you won't be holding me back. Sure, I'll meet people and make friends, but that doesn't mean it'll affect us. I love you, Danny. I know I'll always be thinking of you and I'll be looking forward to our calls. Given the time difference, I can't deny you might get the odd drunken call if I've been out the night. Hell, you might get one if I've stayed home with my Gran. That lady knows how to drink!" she said, referring to her Grandmother, Shannon. "The fact is. I have thought about it and I want us to stay together. Even though we can't spend every day hanging out together while I'm in London, we'll still be seahorses. Soulmates. Destined to be together for the rest of our lives." She looked Danny in the eyes, hoping he could see she meant what she was saying.

"Speaking of soulmates..." she began. "You know my Mum's cousin, Finn, don't you? Full-time doctor, part-time Mob Medic?" she remarked. "He's getting married to George in a few weeks and I'm allowed to invite a plus one. What do you say? Will you be may date to the wedding?" she asked him, her cheeks reddening as she said it. Even though Danny had already met half of her family, through one way or another, it still felt like a big thing. He'd be there as her boyfriend rather than an employee. She was sure everyone would be welcoming to him, but she also understood the idea might make him nervous.

Pyroclast (Danny)

 

[Misty Gray]

Sinead Callahan and James Porter​

"Ooooh, a Thanksgiving baby is going to have the best birthday parties!" Sinead suggested. "You know you're always welcome to come see us, no matter what time of year," she agreed when Lucy mentioned still celebrating Thanksgiving so the family would have an excuse to visit. When her sister mentioned stepping down from dinner duties herself and passing the torch onto her, Sinead appeared surprised. "Me?" she quietly asked. She then turned her attention to Peter as he backed up Lucy's suggestion. She couldn't help but blush when he commented on her creativity. "Well, I... I think I could do that," she said accepting her husband's kiss. She then laughed at the glare her sister sent Peter but chose not to intervene. "I promise I won't make a unicorn turkey. I'll reserve the rainbow colours for the cupcakes and vegetable platters," she remarked.

"Ali, I think we all know why you haven't received a Lucy glare yet," Sinead said, as if the reason was obvious to all in the room. "You're married to Conor. He draws in all of my sister's exasperation. He's practically your human shield," she teased.

James took the cues from Lucy and Aliana, deciding he was been made to weigh in on the situation too. "That's right. This place and our old one back in Dublin have been treated like hotels for twenty-odd years. It's time to pass the torch and let someone else spend hours the next day cleaning up messes that have been left from parties." James sat back and decided it was likely about to be his turn to use his wife as a shield. "Tradition actually dictates that Ali and Conor's place is now the new hotel. Hope you like hosting family parties, Ali!" he teasingly told her.

Bellz Melanin-Gxdess

 

[Misty Gray]

Jasmine Carpenter

​

Jasmine was surprised to find that the commotion had nothing to do with Maddox, but she didn't feel guilty for immediately jumping to such conclusions, given the man's history. Still, the real reason they'd been called up to the apartment was seemingly worse than what she'd expected. Though Jasmine's soft features remained on her face, she felt a detached coldness on the inside as she listened to Kerry tell them the truth about how Moretti had forced her lead the Sullivans into a trap. Whilst she didn't believe Kerry was malicious but instead had lied out of fear, Jasmine didn't have time to show her sympathy or understanding. All she could think about was the danger her friends and colleagues had been led into. For all of their experience, even someone like Adam and Rebel wouldn't be able to fight their way out of a well-executed trap and that made her concerned about her friends.

Like Chase, Jasmine knew they didn't have time to waste, but she still forced herself to stand by patiently as Kerry repeated to them something she'd overheard the Morettis discussing. If she hadn't been intended to hear about the escape route through the sewers, then it was likely that wasn't part of the trap and could prove useful to the Sullivans. Once they were done, Jasmine signalled for the guard to secure the apartment door again and not let the three occupants leave. Although she didn't have time to dwell on it, she felt both a sense of anger towards Kerry and a feeling of pity for the traumatised girl. She figured she would decide which of those feelings would win out once the night was over with.

Jasmine rushed with Chase to retrieve their gas masks and vests, ready to jump into whatever kind of chaos awaited them at the train station. She only hoped they weren't too late or that their colleagues had gained the upper hand over the Morettis. As she picked up the rifle, Chase began to speak but cut himself off. She looked to him expectantly before focusing back on securing her ammunition. She had a feeling she knew what he'd wanted to say and do, but she questioned whether it was appropriate. As much as she wanted to kiss him there and then, she believed they'd feel guilty about it if something bad went down at the station. Perhaps it would feel disrespectful to their friends. "Let's go," she agreed, briefly squeezing his arm and sending him an understanding nod. All being well, they'd be able to pick back up where they'd left things once the fight was over.

Pyroclast (Chase)

 

[Bellz]

Lucy Porter
Blake McCarthy
Roxie Carriveau
Peter Callahan ​

Lucy chuckled as Ali had pointed out that she never received a glare from her. It was true, Ali was the only one who hadn't been on the receiving end of her wrath and Lucy was actually proud of that fact. Sinead interjected that the reason she hadn't been was because Conor took up all the attention and that once again made Lucy laugh. "He does get on my very last nerve." She said in all honesty. Peter pulled a look of relief as he squeezed his wife's shoulders, "Well it's good to know that I'm not the one dancing on her last nerve. That way I can just dance on yours, dear." He told Sinead with a teasing smile.

Aliana had graciously said that Lucy could do it all and it made the blonde woman blush deeply, "I try." She said humbly before James also agreed that their home had been a hotel for everyone for twenty-odd years. He then said that tradition dictated that Ali and Conor's house would be the new hotel, teasing Ali about hosting family parties. Lucy's eyes went wide, "Oh yes, we are definitely going to go the traditional route. You and Conor still have a spring in your step. Time to pass the torch to you. Though like I said to Sinead, she can also host the family parties...only if you want to." She said, looking to her sister a moment to gauge her reaction before turning back to look at Aliana.

"As long as I don't have to host anyone or anything, I am good." Blake said to the group with a smile before her eyes landed on Roxie's. She noticed the girl was being rather quiet. The brunette was pretty disconnected from the conversation as she tried to keep her mind focused on Jane. Jeanie was ever so pleasant in Lucy's arms that at the moment all she had to do was focus on the youngest twin. But her mind was also distracted with thoughts of where Syd was at the moment. Blake tilted her head at the woman, "You okay, kid?" She asked gently to which Roxie looked up. "Oh me? Yea, why do you ask?" She said, trying to muster a sincere smile to hide the fact that she was clearly a little nervous. "Well given you've been so quiet, I just wanted to check on you. I know you must be worried but I promise that Jackson and Conor won't let anything happen to Syd." Blake said with such confidence that it sort of helped to calm some of the worries that Roxie was feeling.

"Just gotta keep thinking positive thoughts." Lucy said to which Blake and Roxie both turned to look at her. Blake nodded her head in agreement, before looking to Ali. "Our boys will make it home, safe, and sound. As James said, they have the upper hand and they've had time to plan out the job. I trust them to make it home." Roxie bit her lip nervously before nodding, "Waiting around is just the worst." She admitted just as a loud crash could be heard from the other room once again. Roxie jumped slightly, startling baby Jane in her arms to the point where she started to cry. Roxie cursed under her breath as Lucy stood from her seat with Jeanie, who miraculously didn't wake. Setting Jeanie in her carrier gently, Lucy stomped over to see what was broken.

Blake looked to Ali for a moment and chuckled, 'I'll bet 10 dollars that was Leo." Sure enough, Lucy was hollering at Leo and Thomas for apparently knocking over a side table in the other lounge. Looking between everyone, Blake chuckled, "I hope we are all preparing ourselves for more of this madness by the time our little ones are Thomas and Leo's age. We are going to be overrun with children!" Peter laughed and shook his head, "Well I know our baby will be an angel," He said looking to Sinead, "It'll be the rest of your kids who will be the troublemakers, instigating our poor dear into doing things they normally wouldn't!"
with: Ali Melanin-Gxdess ; James + Sinead Misty Gray

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

Flakes of rust splintered off the door as it creaked open once again, letting in a gust of outside noise. Syd felt his heart hammering in his chest, at least twice the rate of the footsteps that followed. His head pressed against the floor to try to make out the figures through the small gap he had left, but he didn’t manage to see much before his attention was stolen by the unwelcome feeling of tiny rodent feet scampering around on his back. He had to clamp his teeth together to keep the panic at bay - especially as the gas mask amplified the sound of his breathing - but he was so stiff with fear and dread, and it took so much concentration not to give himself away, that he lost command of his weapon.

Despite the ringing in his ears, Syd could tell that the abrasive New York voice didn’t belong to anyone he knew. By the time he opened his eyes to try and track the intruders, they had moved beyond his limited firing range - but he could sense their footsteps drawing closer and gripped his MP5 just in time for the cupboard hiding him to be kicked over. The rats jumped off him when he rolled onto his back, blindly firing off a reel of bullets. There was no doubt or hesitation this time, no need to check who he was trying to kill - but his firing was cut short when a hefty blow to the head knocked off his aim. His mask was yanked off him, a sharp ring of pressure digging into his temple to keep him in his place. The dust and rubble that flew up into his face distracted him for a moment but at the end of a brief coughing spell, Syd finally did as he was told and looked up at his attackers with an unsteady glare. At first he focused straight up at the loud-mouthed New Yorker, watching with utter contempt as he realised who he had caught. Syd was always proud to be James’ son, but the one drawback was the heavy price on his name. With his eyes locked so firmly on the man holding the gun to his head, he instinctively followed his gaze towards the other.

Syd blinked a few times, unsure if the darkness or the blow to the head was making his eyes play tricks on him. Time seemed to slow down as the man’s familiar features sunk in, until his surroundings began to warp, and from the dark periphery of his vision there grew a flickering image of a basement…

Suddenly the memory attacked him like a virus and he was struck by a visceral nausea, the pain in his head burrowing deep like a post-seizure migraine. He squeezed his eyes shut and curled in on himself, trying to focus on the ice-cold surface of the filthy loose tiles beneath his cheek. Here he was all over again, back in the hands of the man responsible for his mutilated chest and on the edge of a dissociative episode. At least this time his mother wasn’t here to watch.

Interactions
Misty Gray Ethan
Enzyme Amato

 

[Misty Gray]

Ethan Turner​

The blood clearly led to a point of interest for the two men who were hunting for Sullivans. Ethan removed the mask from over his face, sharing similar complaints about the reduced visibility as his teammate had. As Amato advanced towards the perceived source of the wet trails on the floor, Ethan hooked his machine gun onto the loop by his belt and instead grabbed his pistol from its holster, aiming it ready to shoot if needed. As Amato flipped the upturned cupboard over onto its back, Ethan tightened the grip on his weapon, ready to put a bullet in the the head of whoever it was cowering on the floor.

Ethan calmly stepped aside to dodge any aimless bullets that were fired, even though none of them were destined to go near him anyway. As Amato pressed the gun against the man's head and ordered him about, Ethan calmly rounded the two men and cocked his head to the side as he studied the Irishman's face that was lit up enough by the moonlight. A large yet crooked smile took over Ethan's face as he recognised the man as Syd Porter. When Amato's vision shot to him, Ethan let out a dark, dry chuckle and nodded his head. "Arlene Sullivan was a gift. And now Syd Porter. This... this is what I call a trophy," he proudly commented. He crouched down slightly before prising the MP5 out of Syd's hands. He tossed it to the floor before standing up straight again to look down on his prey.

"How's the scar shaping up? I don't often get to revisit my art projects," he taunted Syd. He briefly glanced to the door they'd entered through before focusing back on Porter's son. "Who's going to save you this time? Your mother and aunt aren't here to share your suffering. Although, I'd quite enjoy holding one of those ladies hostage," he began, sending Amato a perverse kind of smirk, "though I think you're quite the catch yourself. James Porter's son. In the flesh..." He let out an accomplished deep breath before letting the coldness in his heart reflect on his twisted face. "Who else is with you tonight? That big piece of shit I saw earlier is Conor Sullivan, correct? Who else came with you?" he forcefully asked.

Enzyme (Amato) Pyroclast (Syd)

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

Just the sound of Ethan’s voice made his chest feel tight, as if the man had his heart in a vice-like grip and was trying to squeeze the life out of him. The venomous words he used to taunt him seemed to instantly scatter into the air, with Syd only managing to catch onto a few before he lost his hold on them altogether. Nevertheless, they were enough to do the damage intended. Syd had felt a big improvement in his mental stability since leaving the hospital, but Ethan’s presence was enough to send him spiralling back into the darkness. He had never imagined he would end up back in that same position with that same man, and the memory it brought back was so vivid he felt himself falling back into the scene, as his real surroundings grew distant, irrelevant...

Tiles. There were no tiles last time. All he had to do was focus on the differences and he had a chance at keeping himself in the present moment - maybe then, he could take some control of the situation. So, he started with the tiles: cracked, dusty and cold against his tear-stained cheek, contrasting the hot barrel that was pressed into his temple. The room smelled different, too, less of death and more of general dirt and decay. Finally opening his eyes, Syd was reminded of how much darker it was in that room than it had been in Alistair’s basement. His eyes were naturally drawn to the light coming through the door’s translucent window and he remembered that he was alone - but for once, that came as a relief to him. He was the only hostage this time.

“No one,” he murmured, spitting away the dust that had brushed his lips. “It’s just me, you just have me.” It was clear by Ethan’s specific mention of Conor that the man had at least some idea of which mobsters had come to the station, but Syd didn’t want him or Amato to focus on anybody else. Seemingly out of nowhere, something Aliana had once told him drifted to the front of his mind...the reason why East Harlem had hurt him in the first place. It was because he was important to the family. Not because he was weak, but because he was a strength. They didn’t have to kill everybody to bring the Sullivan family pain - just one.

Finally summoning the courage, Syd tilted his head upwards again and allowed his distant gaze to settle on Ethan. “You take me,” he demanded, his voice trembling. “You take me and you let my mam go. I’ll go wherever you want, I’ll do whatever...whatever you ask. Just take me and leave. Please.”

Interactions
Misty Gray Ethan
Enzyme Amato

Melanin-Gxdess Aliana (mentioned)
Bellz Lucy (mentioned)

 

[Enzyme]

Amato Castello​

Amato slammed the butt of the shotgun down once more, cutting Syd off just as he emphasized the 'E' in 'please'. The sickening crack bounced off the walls of the decaying room, as the narrow back end of the shotgun nearly split Syd's nasal bone entirely in half. Blood spurted out of the two nostrils like a squeezed ketchup bottle, spraying sprinkles of dust across Amato's khakis and boots. "You paddies need to learn when to shut the fuck up." Amato shot out his arms, adjusting the coat around his shoulders as he fixed his grip on his shotgun. "Christ's sake," Amato muttered, looking up from Syd's smashed-in nose. Amato looked up to Ethan, sticking his tongue into his cheek. "The cops will be here soon, but until 'den, we need to get a handle on dis' situation." Amato rubbed his chin with his nails, scratching at his forming neck-beard. "We can throw 'em in the Manager's office down the hall until we're all done, then we can hop into the sewers." Amato looked to the rest of the Moretti goons in the room, who nodded along to the plan. "Alright then, let's get outta' this room before I get tetanus."

The group filed out of the small room one at a time, with two goons firmly holding both of Syd's shoulders, with the one in the back loosely carrying his MP5. Amato had since slipped back on his mask, waddling through the still-thick tear gas to the end of the hallway. As they passed the HOS's office, loud gunshots emitted from the inside of the room. The room suddenly fell quiet, before gunshots in the public corridor ended the silence.

They cut the narrow corner to the dead-end of the hallway, pulling Syd further and further from his companions. One by one, the group pushed in through the narrow doorway, into the tiny room. The office was by far the most intact room in the building. With a pristine table sitting in the middle, flanked by two full bookcases, the office would better fit in a law firm than in an abandoned train station.

The two goons sat Syd down in the corner of the room, shoving him harshly onto the carpeted floor. "Alright, whaddya' say we see how the others are doing?" Amato asked Ethan, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder. He then looked past Ethan, to the three other Moretti goons. "Can you guys' handle this? This is serious shit, do not take your eyes off that fucker." With the severity of the situation made clear, Amato stepped out of the room, moving back down the hall to the security checkpoint to survey the rest of the station.

He stopped briefly in his tracks before looking at the room, turning to Ethan. "No matter what de' fuck happens to the rest of 'em, as long as they keep the kid in the office, we'll make a fortune today", he said with a chuckle, slapping Ethan on the chest with the back of his hand.

Pyroclast (Syd) Misty Gray (Ethan)

 

[Melanin-Gxdess]

Aliana Sullivan

Ali was on board with Sinead taking over Thanksgiving duties until she mentioned the unicorn turkey. She knew she was joking, but now she couldn't get the cursed image out of her head. "Well, now I'm scared..." She teased, preparing herself for anything kind of backlash she may receive. She went on to explain how Ali had never gotten the glare, making Ali tilt her head in confusion. Once revealed it was because of Conor she let out a light laugh before nodding her head. "That would definitely do it! Ah, another reason why he was the best man to marry." Granted, there were other real reasons but now that she knew Conor was her saving grace towards glares? She was never going to let that one go. When James spoke about Ali having to host parties, she turned to him and was about to speak until Lucy beat her to it. She shook her head at James, "You just had to bring that up, didn't you?" Focusing on Lucy she smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "I mean, I guess that is a fair point... Annnnd it does give me a reason to justify a bigger house. I just don't want to have to clean." She playfully stated, a small pout on her lips. "I'm already cleaning up after Conor and his twin, then it'll be this one along with the dogs- Lucy, I truly don't get how you do this so please teach me?"

Blake then spoke up about not having to host any parties to which Ali quickly interjected. "So, Christmas at the McCarthy's you say?" Turning her attention to Roxie, she understood how she was feeling. The first time Ali had to deal with someone she loved and cared about on a dangerous mission was Tommy. The first time he just ended up in the hospital and everything was fine but the second time he hadn't returned to her. It gave Ali anxiety every time her husband informed her of some meeting or when he went on missions like this, but being around her family members was a welcomed distraction. She opened her mouth to say something more encouraging when she heard the crash. Immediately she pinched the bridge of her nose, preparing herself for dealing with the rowdy group of children. She just knew it was her child, Blake even commenting on it, and once confirmed she nodded her head. "Remind me to get you that 10." She stood up so she could retrieve her brat, responding to Peter. "For some reason, I wholeheartedly agree. I can only pray this next one is nothing like their brother..." She stated before following after Lucy. "What are you brats in here doing?"

​

 

[Enzyme]

Sullivan NPCs​

]

The quick succession of fire, lit a fuse behind the Sullivans, exploding them down the hall at Mach five. This was all uncharted territory for them, but with the small cracks in the ceiling, moonlight shined through to reveal somewhat of a lit path. As they sprinted down the shrouded hallway, they passed two bathroom doors, that were barely big enough to have five feet between them. This surely wouldn't be enough to house the remaining Sullivans, so behind Rebel, they all kept moving.

With the rapid footsteps stomping behind them, they seemed to be running to a dead end. Luckily for one Sullivan member, he saw a bend in the hallway, leading down another corridor. "Hey, guys! This way!" He shouted after them, waving for them to follow him. As he turned the corner, he didn't have a moment to move down the new hall, before he was met with a barrage of bullets. Each round hit his body harder than the last, shaking him violently and tearing him to pieces before he even had the chance to meet the ground. When he finally did, what was left of his back hit the concrete, with the rest of his confetti body following close behind.

With no other exit available, it was clear the survivors would have no choice but to hold out. They quickly adjourned to the seating area, which was a small room cut into the wall. With more than a dozen leather chairs available, they quickly dove behind the sofas for cover. With one eye peaked out, one of the Sullivans could see a sea of Moretti soldiers, just on the other side of the wall, across the hall. With their position exposed, the bullets rained down like hail, ripping the sofas to pieces and sending feathers and stuffing into the air. "Fuckin' hell!" One of the Sullivans shouted, burying his face into the carpeted floor, before returning firing from the bottom of his chair.

They were outmanned, outgunned, and funneled into a small corner of the station. At this rate, their only option was to die a valiant death as the Moretti's would surely push in, minute by minute. "This is it, boys! Give 'em hell!" A Sullivan shouted, popping up from his sofa to open fire. His rounds tore into the sidewall, before sticking a Moretti goon directly in the neck. Before he could assess the damage, the Sullivan was forced back behind the couch from the sheer amount of gunfire.

Bellz (Rebel) Pyroclast (Tatiana) Misty Gray (Adam/Conor/Steve)

 

[Enzyme]

The Man. The Myth. The Legend. Jackson McCarthy​

Jackson fell back into the HOS office, rubbing the side of his head where door debris had cut into his mask and sliced his face. "Fuck me," Jackson muttered to the other Sullivan in the room before pulling out his magazine. It was empty, save the round in the chamber he presumably had. Before Jackson could come up with some sort of coherent plan with the other Sullivan, a Moretti thug rounded the corner with his barrel up. Jackson quickly threw his aim to the man's chest and fired, expelling the single round out of the chamber and directly into the man's chest. The man's momentum caught Jackson, falling onto him. The Moretti still had quite a bit of life left and began to wrestle the shotgun against Jackson.

Before the Sullivan in the room could align a clear shot on the Moretti, Jackson grabbed hold of the shotgun and forced the Moretti into the wall, unknowingly taking the man out of the Sullivan's crosshairs. As The Moretti goon slid to the ground against the wall, he quickly threw up the shotgun's aim to Jackson. Jackson hadn't the chance to raise a brow before the man ripped the trigger back. Luckily, with his trained reflexes, he bobbed his head to the side just as the round went off, ripping the ceiling above him to shreds, rather than his head. Jackson quickly grabbed hold of the steaming barrel, yanking it to the side before bringing his fist down to the Moretti's mask in three rapid yet powerful punches.

Just then, another Moretti soldier barreled through the doorway, slamming against the door with such force that it swung closed behind him. The Sullivan in the room noticed the man just a second too late, and before he could readjust his aim, a bullet shot clean through his head, courtesy of the Moretti in the doorway.

Having the man nearly beaten into submission, Jackson ripped the shotgun from his grasp and then brought the butt of the shotgun down into the Moretti goon's dome, like he was digging into the Earth for buried treasure. On the third hit, he broke the man's neck; on the fifth, he caved his face in. As the other Moretti in the room realized his buddy was being beaten to death, he went to aim at Jackson's back. It was too late; Jackson had already racked the pump and spun around, firing buckshot in his direction. The rounds hit center mass, digging into the Moretti soldier's chest and throwing him off his feet, slamming his lifeless body into the brittle drywall.

Then it was quiet, with nothing but Jackson's beating heart and breath to lapse the silence. He tossed the empty shotgun to the ground, pulling the loaded handgun from his belt holster. It was far from over.

**************
​

Jackson slowly opened the door to the hallway, peaking his eye out through the crack in the door. He didn't see a soul, only the feet of the Sullivan who had been shot on in the corridor, with no head attached to his neck. Pushing the barrel of his pistol out first, he slowly goosestepped into the hallway, stepping over the corpse. It was quiet, save the distant muffled gunshots and screaming that had echoed from the other end of the train station. He could only imagine the massacre that was happening down there. As much as he'd love to run over and help, he told Syd he wasn't losing him here, and he had no intentions of breaking his word - with the assumption his godson was still breathing.

The sounds of boots crushing debris bounced off the walls at the end of the hall, sending Jackson into a fight or flight mode. He quickly bounced across the wall and into the storage closet, where he succumbed to the darkness of the room. Pressing his back to the wall, he heard the footsteps pass by him as they moved for the door. Before they left, Jackson's ears perked up at the sound of a thick New York accent. "No matter what de' fuck happens to the rest of 'em, as long as they keep the kid in the office, we'll make a fortune today."

**************
​

Four calm knocks rang out from the office doorway, causing the three reclined goons to shoot their heads up. "What the fuck?" One of them asked, sitting up in the Manager's chair. "I'll check it out," the other goon responded, grabbing his AK-47 from the wall. "Don't you move, or I'll fuck you up even more," the man said, pointing sharply to Syd and his clearly broken nose. The man then stepped to the door, with his automatic rifle held loosely in his right hand. "You know the doors unlocked right-" the man started, opening the door up just in an inch to show there was no need to knock. Before the man could finish his sentence, the door flew open, catching him in its swing and pinning him against the wall. Jackson used his full weight to keep the man there as he extended his arm out in a shooter's position, that only a highly trained hitman could accomplish with such speed.

The first rounds caught the Moretti in the Manager's chair. Striking him twice in the chest, before the third round nailed him right between the eyes, exploding the back of his skull open and coating the renaissance painting behind him in brain matter. While the other guard, fumbled for his weapon, Jackson's aim cut to him, firing off four rounds directly into his sternum; sending him spiraling to the carpet.

The guard behind the door fought for his freedom, attempting to fire at Jackson with his limited movement. Jackson responded by shoving the barrel to the other side of the door and blind firing. Three rapid muzzle flashes lit up the side of the wall, before Jackson released his hold on the door, allowing the man's corpse to crumble to the ground.

The second man who had been shot crawled for his dead associate's firearm. With half of his body still functioning, only one of his arms could pull his weight across the ground - leaving a blood streak behind him. Jackson's finger smoothly slid over the release button, dropping the empty magazine to the ground. Following slowly behind the crawling man, he grabbed the magazine from his belt loop and slapped it into the handgun, before racking the slide. He then aimed the firearm to the back of the man's skull, allowing him to crawl a few more inches, before ending his journey, prematurely.

After every threat in the room was dealt with, Jackson looked to Syd in the corner. The gas at this end of the corridor was fairly deluded, so with one hand, Jackson yanked the gas mask off of himself, revealing the minor cuts to the side of his head, but a beaming smile, happy to see Syd was okay. "Thought you could just slack off and let us do all the work, did ya' mate?" Jackson chuckled with a cheeky smile, before extending his hand to help Syd off the ground. "You ready to get out of this dump?" Jackson asked with a smirk, squeezing Syd's arm lightly.

Pyroclast (Syd)

 

[Bellz]

Rebel Holt ​

Rebel watched on as one of their men ran forward ahead of her, telling them to follow him. She took a step in his direction before he was met with a cloud of bullets firing directly into his body. Wide-eyed, Rebel sprung into action. "Behind the chairs!" She shouted to the rest of her men, running to shove both Adam and Conor towards the leather seats before diving behind one herself. Feathers and stuffing were spat everywhere as the Moretti men continued to relentlessly fire their way. They were sitting ducks at the moment and if they didn't try to wipe out some of the men soon, they would be done for. Firing a few rounds where she could, Rebel managed to get at least two bullets between the eyes of the enemy before she was forced to hit the dirt again. Looking around her, she noticed that the corridor they came down before was still empty. "Stay here! I'll be back!!" She hollered to Adam, Conor, and the rest of the men before starting to army crawl towards the hall where the restrooms were located. There was a lapse in gunfire briefly and that's when she took her chance to push herself up and sprint towards the double doors.

Once she was next to the doors she looked through the small window to see if there was anyone behind them. Seeing one man in front of the door, Rebel knew she would have to work quickly. Making sure her AR-15 was loaded properly, the woman took a deep breath before kicking her foot out and forcing the door open. It slammed harshly into the back of the man and just when he turned around, Rebel fired three rounds into his chest. A man rushed towards her, managing to hit her in the shoulder before pushing her towards the ground, tumbling forward with her as her gun slammed onto the ground. Rebel rolled onto her back before using that momentum to somersault all the way back onto her feet. The heavier set man didn't have the same size advantage and scrambled to get back up.

Reaching for her pistol in her side holster, Rebel stood on her feet with ease before firing two shots into the man's skull. Footsteps could be heard coming from the right and Rebel rushed to stand at the corner to greet them. They had the same idea as her, to stay close to the wall. Little did they know that would be their downfall. The one in front was too busy looking ahead to notice that Rebel had kicked her foot out, effectively tripping him and sending him spiraling to the ground. While he was distracted, Rebel turned to shoot the man who was behind him square in the face before turning to shoot the other in the back just as he tried to get back up. He squirmed a bit, so just to be safe, Rebel pressed the tip of her gun against his head and pulled the trigger. The sound of blood splattering on her suit sounded like that of light rain hitting a roof. Not wasting any time, Rebel quickly headed towards 38.1 ft hallway b before moving to stand to the left of it. The door was closed so she waited a few moments to see if anyone would come out from behind it.

Her eyes looked around the room for a moment, taking in what appeared to be another wave of calm before the storm. After allowing herself a brief moment of peace, she grabbed the handle to the door and flung it open to reveal one person waiting directly behind the door. Gasping, Rebel was quick to try and shove the door back closed only for it to be jammed by the man's rifle. He fired blindly through the small opening, bullets ricocheting off the walls. Desperately, Rebel opened the door wider, letting the man get his arms through before moving to slam them in the door frame. Without stopping, she slammed against him as hard as she could multiple times, listening as he hollered and cursed before his weapon clattered to the ground. Taking her chance, she hopped into view, swung the door open, and fired the rest of her rounds into the man's body before watching it fall to the floor. Her weapon was out of bullets, so she grabbed the dead man's gun before pushing onward towards the loading deck.

mentions: Adam + Conor Misty Gray ; Sullivan Men Enzyme

 

[Misty Gray]

Adam Harper and Conor Sullivan​

The onslaught of gunfire forced the Sullivans further down the corridor. With Rebel leading, Adam kept close behind with Conor in his sights at all times. Once again, having to remind himself that despite the other man's stature and capability, he was still tasked with shielding him. Not only was the big guy his boss, but Adam simply held the mindset of himself being a soldier and Conor's life being worth more than his own in this situation. After all of the reckless ways Adam couldn't have died over the years, he wouldn't be disappointed to go down in this mission. He just wished he could know if any of the key players on Moretti's side had gone down too.

Adam kicked open the bathroom doors and aimed ready to fire, but was simply left disappointed to see the tiny bathroom was too small to be of use. He continued on keeping the same pace as Rebel. One of the other men shouted and waved the group on around the corner but was met with a barrage of bullets which soon sent him crumbling to the floor in a bloody heap. Adam tightened his jaw and positioned himself directly behind Conor until he reached cover in the seating area. As Rebel ushered their boss in front, Adam covered him whilst keeping his machine gun aimed ready to fire behind them. They ducked down behind the seats as bullets began ripping into the leather from the enemy's attack.

Shielded by the seats, Conor looked to Adam as he adjusted his own machine gun ready to take aim. "We're all in this together, mate. There's no longer room for me to be sitting on my arse," he firmly told his employee.

Adam glared at Conor before nodding his head in agreement. The more Sullivans firing back, the better chance any of them had of making it out alive. He didn't get chance to reply before Rebel ordered them to stay put before she rushed off. "Wait!" he called after her but stopped himself from stepping into the line of Moretti gunfire and abandoning their boss in the process. Frustrated, he shook his head but the action soon turned into a nod of understanding. She'd worked on the team for some time, so he trusted she had a plan. He turned back to Conor and gave him a thumbs up. "Me first, then you," he suggested. He then shuffled a few feet from Conor whilst keeping cover by the seats. By now the top of his sleeve felt soaked from the blood that continued to run from the flesh wound from the earlier bullet that had grazed his bicep. He could still move his arm and take aim, so Adam wasn't inclined to give what he considered a scratch any further attention.

Adam peered through a small gap in the chairs to assess the situation before kneeling up enough to fire off a rapid succession of bullets over the back of the seats and towards the enemy. Seeing bullets rip into the chest of one of Moretti's men brought some satisfaction to Adam, but there was still plenty of that to go around yet. As soon as gunfire was directed towards him, Adam ducked back down behind his cover. This allowed Conor to move into action and let rip towards the enemies, one man in particular managing to take more than his fair share over bullets as they ripped into the guy's arm and back. Conor took cover again and Adam signalled for one of the other guys to hold fire. As soon as there was a brief pause in gunfire, he signalled for all three of them to open fire and take as many Morettis out as they could before taking cover again.

Misty Gray (...) Enzyme (?)

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

All his effort to gather his focus was for nothing when a heavy weight suddenly slammed down on his nose. The crack echoed through his skull as his head bounced off the floor, warm liquid flooding across his face. For a moment he was totally blinded by shock and the deep, involuntary groan that came up from his throat was all he could hear. As his senses gradually faded back in, however, he was able to make out the voices of the men looming over him and figured out what had happened.

Syd had taken his fair share of punches in life, even been knocked out in boisterous fist fights, so he could tell the damage was worse this time. As he was rolling onto his front to prevent the blood from collecting, he was grabbed by the shoulders and hauled to his feet by a further two men who proceeded to guide him across the cluttered floor and back out into the corridor. While at that point it was possible that the men had decided to follow Syd’s suggestion to take him as hostage and end the slaughter, he doubted that they would be so merciful. The cacophony of gunfire still resonated throughout the station, which Syd took as hope that at least some of his people were still alive and fighting.

It was a good habit in unfamiliar territory to make a mental map of the area in case a quick getaway was necessary. Syd fought to remain oriented, trying to remember where he came from and which direction he was going in, but between his severely broken nose and the tear gas leaking into the corridor, he found it difficult to keep his eyes open. When the men led him into another room and shoved him into a corner, he used the noise from down the corridor to keep him aware of where the fight was, and that gave him a basic idea of how far away he was being kept. With his team still out there - what was left of them, at least - having a general idea of where they were was useful enough for the time being. Syd drew a knee up to his chest and rested against it, letting his throbbing head hang down. He wished he could get up and fight - he was sure he had a pistol on him, somewhere - but even if the blunt trauma and blood loss hadn’t set his head spinning, he had three Moretti goons watching him that he knew he wasn’t equipped to take on alone.

A knock at the door prompted him to raise his head a fraction. What followed should have startled him, but Syd, in his weary state, just watched in awe as the masked intruder skilfully wiped out each of the thugs one by one. By the time he was done, the room had transformed from a neat and tidy office into a scene from a horror movie; the walls were dripping with blood and brains and the mangled victims lay sprawled across the ground, soaking into an expanding pool of blood. Syd remained unfazed - having recognised all of the professional moves, he had worked out who it was behind the mask. Jackson pulled his mask off to reveal a beaming smile and just like that, Syd believed that maybe everything would be okay. He gave him his best smile in return, though the effect was largely ruined by the blood staining his teeth.

“You never fail to put on a show,” he weakly commented, as he took hold of Jackson’s hand and hoisted himself up. Before he could give any thought to what their next move should be, Syd had his arms wrapped around his godfather in a firm embrace. He didn’t feel the need to verbally express what it was for, which was a relief because it wasn’t a convenient time to get emotional. He was just glad to see the man again, alive and, for the most part, unhurt. “They said something about escaping through a sewer system,” he told him as he pulled away from the embrace. He used his sleeve to try to wipe away the blood streaming from his nose, but by that point he was covered in blood and filth from head to toe and so he only ended up adding a layer of grime. “I don’t know where, but if the pigs are on their way then they’ll come through the doors, so...finding a manhole might be our best way out.” Trying not to lean on Jackson too much, Syd scanned the bloodbath that was the office and stooped to reclaim his MP5 from the corpse’s loose grip. He wasn’t sure he would be much use out there, but he was still just about standing. It was obvious Jackson had been joking, but no matter how rough he felt he couldn’t sit back when they were so sorely outnumbered already. From Jackson’s encouraging smile, he assumed that Conor, Adam and Rebel were alive as far as he knew, so he didn’t waste time asking after them. Still, he wasn’t sure how or why the man had decided it was time to leave. Looking to his godfather, his bright blue eyes contrasting the grime on his face, Syd asked, “The fight’s not over, is it?”

Interactions
Misty Gray Ethan
Enzyme Amato, Jackson

 

[Enzyme]

Jackson McCarthy​

The hug had caught Jackson off guard, and for a moment he stood there, frozen. Every move he had made, in what felt like hours, had been to neutralize an assailant or save his own skin. To feel arms wrapped around him in a warm embrace was like a sharp temperature change that left his body stiff. However, the familiar feeling of Syd's arms around him was enough to calm his firing nerves and bring back almost a bit of natural nostalgia. Syd's genuine, loving hugs hadn't changed since the days Syd could first see over the dashboard of Jackson's Cresta. Jackson's heavy arms came around Syd, wrapping around the man like a bulletproof vest. "I told you I wouldn't lose you here..." Jackson chuckled softly, before patting Syd firmly on the back.

Jackson had made a mental note of Syd's current appearance, and even with a smashed-in nose and bloody teeth, the kid could still smile. While he didn't want to drag any attention to how inhuman Syd appeared in this moment, he had never been more proud of his godson and was sure Syd had gotten his toughness from Jackson, rather than James or Lucy.

Once they released, it was right back to it, with Syd explaining of some sort of sewer system the Morettis would use to escape. Jackson recollected the flashing lights that seeped through the boarded-up windows he had passed them in the hallways. In the moment, he had paid them little attention as he was more concerned with patrolling Morettis. In hindsight, however, he remembered the tinge of red and blue that wrapped the walls through the small cracks. The uneasy feeling he had felt passing the lights must've subconsciously triggered his unease around law enforcement, any nationality for that matter. The cops were on the doorstep, and he wondered why they hadn't made their move.

"The gas..." Jackson trailed off. "They must've realized the place had been bombed wit' a nerve agent. That'll keep 'em at bay, but not for long." Jackson stepped back to the door, before stopping in his trails, and spinning back to Syd. "The fights far from over, but this manhole might be our best way outta' here, even if we 'ave to take our firefights wit' the Moretti's to the sewers. No ones goin' to the slamma' today," Jackson assured Syd with a stiff pointer finger. "We'll find the others and make our way there, one step atta' time," Jackson smiled to Syd, before handing his gas mask over to Syd. By now the gas had been diluted enough in the building, to where it was somewhat tolerable for someone who had been exposed to fumes such as these. With Syd behind Jackson, he moved for the doorway of the office with his handgun by his hip.

Pyroclast (Syd)

 

[Misty Gray]

Sinead Callahan​

The sudden loud crash from the other room startled Sinead, causing her to gasp. For a brief moment, her mind automatically told her one of her kids was in danger. The thought soon put to rest as reality caught up with her to remind her that three of her kids were no longer small children and the fourth was still growing safely inside her. Not that Emery wasn't still considered too young to be out in world on her own. There hadn't been a direct confrontation between mother and daughter yet, but Sinead knew Emery was upset about being made to return to Dublin, especially as Savannah and Braden would be staying behind in New York. Sinead was sure her daughter was holding her tongue out of respect for her grieving over the jazz club deaths, but she was sure she or Peter would be on the receiving end of Emery's anger at some point soon.

Sinead snapped out of her thoughts and a distant kind of smile grew on her face as she heard Blake stating her prime suspect for the commotion was Leo. "The boy's built up a reputation," she softly agreed. Blake's comment was then followed by Peter stating their baby was going to be an angel, drawing out a small laugh from Sinead as she coyly nudged his arm. "Of course. Our next little one is going to be a saint. We'll have to make sure he or she doesn't let the rest of the children lead them astray," she teased. In reality, she would never deny her family's roots but at the same time she was hopeful they could give their fourth child as normal a life as possible in Dublin. Their other three kids had been affected by the family business, with Savannah suffering directly from it but also Braden and Emery showing signs of wanting to be a part of the business themselves. Sinead already had three young adult futures to fret over, she at least hope to have control over her fourth child's peace and safety.

"Poor Luce and Ali have their hands full, sometimes. Those two boys are such sweet friends, but also little troublemakers," she commented.

Bellz Melanin-Gxdess

 

[Pyroclast]

Tatiana Moretti

Through the thick gas clouding the air, Tatiana could make out the movements of Sullivan soldiers falling out into the two opposite corridors. Leaving Steve to his own seemingly reckless approach of shooting ‘whatever moves’, she retreated to the door she had come through and waited for them to finish evacuating the security checkpoint before stealthily crossing the room. She had observed Ethan prising the mask off a dead Sullivan and with the gas posing a significant distraction from the fight, she reckoned it was wise to follow his example before making their next move. She waved over her nearby teammates to rob the masks of the rest of bodies - there was a limited supply, of course, but the more eyes they had, the better.

It didn’t matter that she was Gabriel’s daughter or that she wasn’t hesitant to kill when it was necessary; being a woman in the business, Tatiana had enough to prove to the men around her. Making her father proud was perhaps a part of it, but not a part that she spent time dwelling on. She cared more for further opportunity than praise. So, rather than his opinion of her influencing her actions, it was his quick-thinking, assertive character that he had passed down to her that drove her to lead her team back down the narrow corridor. Though it was the Sullivans who were outnumbered, she didn’t know what they were up to since seeing them take a right from the security checkpoint. She did, however, have a map of the train station etched into her mind. There were limited options for where they could move to next, and so, wasting no time to bring the men together in a closed discussion, she simply directed them in silent gestures.

The temperature dropped when they reached the train platform, and there was a collective inhale of fresh air from those not wearing a gas mask. “Alright, boys,” Tatiana called, snapping her fingers to get their attention before pointing to the next door along. “Let’s cut them off.”

Now with no need for stealth, the men stormed the corridor and opened fire on the small group of Sullivans, who rushed to take cover behind the waiting room sofas. A couple of the larger men brought up the rear, ready to replace anyone who got shot down or needed to refill, but given the numbers they had they didn’t expect to have to do that any time soon. Meanwhile, Tatiana guarded the door, watching through the window to the loading dock. Having witnessed the Sullivan group split between the two corridors adjoining the security checkpoint, she couldn’t assume that she and her team had them all cornered at once.

She hadn’t stood there long before she saw somebody appear on the platform. A woman. Her face was hidden behind a mask, but Tatiana was the only woman fighting on her side so she knew she must be an enemy. A particular face immediately sprang to mind, and as she watched the woman from her position - her athletic build, her black, shoulder-length hair, her light-footed gait - she realised it all matched. Tatiana felt her heart pound in her chest as the countdown began, and crouched beneath the window, flattening herself against the wall.

As soon as the door was flung open and the woman took her first step into the corridor, Tatiana leapt to her feet and fired off a reel of bullets through the door window. The explosion sent shards of bloodied glass hammering against her mask but it failed to take her focus away from the woman, who collapsed against the opposite wall. Tatiana let the door swing shut before stepping across the glass and crouching down beside the body. The back of her head, where it hadn’t been covered, was now a mangled, bloody mess, torn to shreds by the close-range attack. While her colleagues held up their end of the fight with the Sullivans, Tatiana took a moment to remove the woman’s mask. Sure enough, there was Rebel. Her peaceful expression was juxtaposed by their violent surroundings; she looked somehow deeply restful, a look Tatiana recognised from when she had slept beside her. In the moment, Tatiana felt relieved that she was gone. Whatever feelings she held for Rebel now would no longer pose a threat.


Syd Porter

As if the rat-infested train station wasn’t grim enough, with the cops lying in wait, it sounded as though the fight with the Morettis was due to move to the sewers. Syd sighed but didn’t hesitate to nod in response. He wasn’t going to argue with Jackson - he would have lost all morale by now if it wasn’t for him. If he said that no one was going to get caught, then no matter how likely it seemed, Syd felt inclined to believe him. He had to latch onto his Godfather’s fierce determination in order to maintain his own.

There was some natural hesitance in accepting Jackson’s gas mask. In his right mind, Syd always felt more comfortable making sacrifices for other people than having someone make sacrifices for him. His family was made up of generous, selfless people and Syd had always aimed to be like them, to implement that same chivalry into his daily life as much as he could - especially in times of crisis. Perhaps that was one of the many ways in which Jackson had influenced him. However, as wrong as it felt to accept the mask the man was so generously giving up for him, something was compelling him to obey his Godfather’s every word. Syd was still a little shaken from seeing Ethan again, blood still pulsing out of his busted nose, and he didn’t quite trust himself to be as alert as he needed to be. It was safer to let Jackson take charge and follow him in whatever he decided was the best next move.

After mumbling a small "thanks" and struggling to fit the mask over his face without causing further damage, Syd finally returned his focus to Jackson and rushed to keep up with him. “I’m ready,” he stated, giving the man an encouraging slap on the arm, his other hand gripped tightly around his gun. “I’ve got your back.”

Interactions
Misty Gray Adam, Conor, Ethan
Enzyme Amato, Jackson
Bellz Rebel

 

[Enzyme]

Amato Castello​

The pitter-patter of gunfire escaped through the small openings of the Public Corridor, and through the fogged up glass, he could see the illumination of bright muzzle flashes through the dense gas. The Sullivan's must've deployed more of the tear canisters, and Amato could already feel his throat closing up, even with his oxygen being replenished through the tightly screwed respirator. "Cornered like rats," Amato chuckled to Ethan, before throwing his grip to the pump of his shotgun. "Let's go splatter deez' mutts, huh?" As he stepped forward into the security checkpoint, a ray of intense blue beam struck the side of his face, blinding his right eye. The blue was followed by a jarring and contrasting red, that lit up his mask like a ray of light.

He quickly threw his head in it's direction and looked directly at the blown-out ticket booth window, the edges of glass coated in flesh. It took a moment for his hazy vision to focus, but once it had, he managed to catch sight of where the beams of light were coming from. Through a thin opening in the plywood over one of the windows, was the flashing lights of a police cruiser. Like stumbling upon an army of ants, he quickly looked around the room to find identical light shows occurring at different windows. They were completely surrounded.

"Hol-ee shit... We're outta' time..." Amato drew out through his gaping mouth. He knew they'd come eventually, but with everything going on around him, he had completely lost track of time and space. "Fuck! We gotta get outta' here!" Amato frantically shouted, instinctively bouncing on his feet as his headshot in both directions. His hand quickly shot out to Ethan's chest, gripping the edge of his coat. "Go... Go get the fuckin' kid! Go get him! I'll... I'll warn the others! We'll... Meet in the tunnels! All of us! Go! Go!" Amato drew out gradually, not even looking to Ethan as the panic ensued. It took him a second for his body to catch up to his furiously racing mind, and without another word, his stubby legs turned into jet turbines and propelled him down the hallway, out into the loading dock.

"Hey!" Amato shouted to Tatiana on the loading dock. Tatiana was slumped over the corpse of a mangled woman, and under any other circumstance, Amato would've acknowledged how weird the sight was, but he currently didn't have the luxury of a fully functioning thought process. "Whattya' doin'? Fuck her! We gotta skedaddle right now!" Amato didn't leave a moment to explain, before ripping at Tatiana's shirt and shoving her in the direction of the manhole. "Go! Go down there! We're gettin' the fuck outta' here!" Amato shouted back to her, throwing his finger back wildly as he charged towards the double doors.

His small frame barreled through the wooden doors, causing them to smash against the wall. The noise did little to stifle the overpowered gunfire that was bouncing off the walls around them. "Hey!" Amato shouted to the dozens of men in front of him, to no avail. "Hey, assholes!" Amato shouted louder, managing to grab a few of the men's attention. "The pigs are here! We gotta' fuckin' bounce, Right now, you motha' fuckers!" This seemed to grab just about everyone's attention, as the men in the corridor shot their gaze back to him. "Whattdya' waitin' for? A fuckin' punchline? Come on!" Amato shouted, before running off towards the manhole. The men followed close behind, quickly filing out of the corridor, nearly trampling each other in the process.

Misty Gray (Ethan/Conor/Adam) Pyroclast (Tatiana)

Mention(s): Bellz (A Very Dead Rebel)

 

[Misty Gray]

Ethan Turner​

Syd's response about who else was with him had drawn a simple nod out of Ethan. He was confident Conor was with the Irish group somewhere in the old station, but wasn't in their present area. When Syd spoke up again, demanding they took him, Ethan glared back at him. "We were planning to," he darkly confirmed. However, as the younger man went on about letting his mother go, Ethan was confused for a short time. He let out a mocking chuckle as he determined Syd was having some kind of a moment, perhaps even remembering the night of the torture. He didn't respond, instead watching as Amato smacked the butt of his shotgun into Syd's face.

After putting the respirator back on over his face, Ethan then set about accompanying the others who were forcing Syd to the Manager's Office. Ethan had felt a brief hesitation about leaving their prize, but he decided the kid wasn't going anywhere considering he was severely outnumbered. "He's right," Ethan told the other Moretti guys. "That Irish piece of shit doesn't leave your sight!" he forcefully ordered the men. Ethan and Amato left their group of colleagues to keep Porter's son holed up in the office while they returned to the centre of the action. Ethan couldn't help but mirror Amato's chuckle at mention of making a fortune on Syd. He was confident nothing would grant him a lifeline with Moretti if the man did learn of his part of the plan that involved Steve attacking Valentina, but that didn't mean he wouldn't think of a way to buy himself more time with Syd in his possession. He was a resourceful man and he would do whatever he could to manipulate any situation to work in his own favour.

As the moved deeper back into the public corridor, the heavier smoke made it clear more tear gas had been distributed, but he was grateful to have already put his mask back on. The sound of gunfire made it clear there was still plenty of activity going on, which also meant some Sullivans were still alive and needed putting down. "We've got our prize, so lets just take the rest of these bastards down," he echoed Amato's sentiment. As with his ally, Ethan also noticed the red and blue flashing lights, the source of which was without doubt. The cops were already outside the building, so it was time speed up their plans.

Whilst his heart rate did noticeably increase in his chest, Ethan for the most part remained unfazed. Like a man with nothing to lose. In reality, he'd had nothing to lose for many years and now that was especially the case since he and Steve had gladly crossed Gabriel. Ethan wasn't willing to call it a betrayal, on account of the fact he'd never accepted Gabriel as his boss. Their alliance was motivated by his own selfish desires and an unquestionable loyalty to Alistair. Ethan tightened his jaw as he processed Amato's more animated response. "Christ. Alright, Cockerel," he assertively began as Amato gripped at his coat. "I'll go fetch our trophy," he agreed, quickly nodding. "If Steve isn't dead, haul his ass out of here," he gruffly added. His East Harlem comrades took priority over Moretti's lot.

Ethan turned away and returned back towards the corridor he'd only just walked along again. Barging through the double door, he held his machine gun out ready to fire, but soon ditched it in the doorway of the storage room they'd originally found Syd hiding inside of. If he was going to keep his hostage close, he would prefer to hold a pistol to the Irishman's head rather than be restricted by the machine gun. Ethan kept his gun aimed ahead, ready to react quickly to an enemy and fire.

As he approached the corner where he would turn to walk to the Manager's Office, Ethan exercised a little more caution upon hearing some kind of movement up ahead. Aimed ready to fire, he quickly stepped into view. There were two male figures outside of the room door and none of them were on Ethan's side of the battle. Standing in front of Syd, Ethan was able to deduce from his different build that Jackson wasn't the prize he wished to keep alive. As quickly as he'd come to the conclusion, Ethan decided aiming for the stranger''s head would bring a risk of killing Syd in the process. Instead, he fired three bullets towards Jackson's chest...

Enzyme (Jackson, Amato) Pyroclast (Syd)

 

[Enzyme]

Jackson McCarthy​

Jackson couldn't help but smile at Syd's comment, having to stop in his tracks just in front of the doorway. He turned to look back at his godson with a half-cocked smile. Despite the severity of their situation, Jackson could only marvel at the moment. After everything that had happened to Syd, every soul-crushing hardship, he was still right here, watching Jackson's six. "I know you do, mate," Jackson said with a warm nod. "Just keep your gun up and that busted sprinkler ofa' a nose off of me, right?" he said with a chuckle.

Jackson's smile faded as his head turned back around to face the barrel of a loaded handgun. Jackson was fast, he had always prided himself on that. No matter what, he could always make one move before his opponent. Rather than using his move to fire the first shot, however, he instead grabbed hold of Syd's coveralls and yanked the boy behind his back. The rest was a haze, a jumble of bright flashes and loud bangs directly in front of him, as he retorted gunfire back into the assailant at point-blank range. With each ripping motion of the trigger, he took a step back, not loosening his grip on Syd's shirt. Despite the number of shots the assailant had endured, he still stood, firing shots directly at Jackson, which surely struck center mass. In the moment there was no searing pain, no agonizing feeling of a hole being ripped through him. Instead, he felt a numb, hot sensation wash over his torso, as the adrenaline pumping through him kept his legs below him.

The gunfight, while only lasting a few seconds, had felt like an eternity, until the last round from Jackson's handgun landed just above the left eyebrow of the shooter, folding the man over like a suitcase. Jackson hadn't remained on his feet much longer, having backed right up into the Manager's desk, causing both him and Syd to fly over the mangled wood, directly onto the carpeted floor.

For a moment, Jackson laid there, his head glued to the ground as he took long, deep breaths. There was no doubt in his mind, he had been shot multiple times. It was bad, he had no question about it, but this was no time to die. Throwing his head up to assess the damage, he saw four separate blood patches seeping through the front of his coveralls. "Agh... Fuckin' hell," Jackson drew out, the blood loss causing a sudden wave of haze to wash over his brain. Grabbing the edge of the table, he used all of his might to pull himself up onto his feet, with the table as leverage to hold his weight.

Having a moment to stand, Jackson, looked back down at the wounds, which had already begun to soak his chest in a deep maroon. "Well that doesn't look too good, does it, mate?" Jackson spoke softly, watching the puddle of blood below him begin to form from the dripping gore. "I'll be alright," Jackson said confidently, after a painful groan. Through it all, he even managed a smile, letting out a light chuckle at the irony, although the pain in his chest stifled the laughter.

Pyroclast (Syd) Misty Gray (Ethan)

 

[Pyroclast]

Tatiana Moretti

In a fight as important as this, Tatiana hadn’t expected to let herself become distracted. Of course she wanted to watch Conor Sullivan go down, and of course she wanted to be the one to do it - everybody on the team wanted to claim that prize. Yet there she was, letting her colleagues do the dirty work while she crouched beside Rebel, taking in her handsome features one last time. It was only when Amato came storming into the room crying out warnings of police arriving on the scene that Tatiana realised she had lost herself gazing at Rebel’s expressionless face. It could have been a different story were it not for the war they were entangled in, but part of her had always known it wouldn’t work, and it was for that reason that she was transfixed by the state she had left Rebel in. Still, in a matter of life or death, she had to put her family first. Rebel was on the enemy side, and that was enough justification to quieten any shame she felt towards killing her.

“Alright!” she snapped when Amato yanked her shirt and shoved her in the direction of the manhole. While she would never admit to following his orders, she knew not to waste any time in doing as he had said. Her parents would not be happy if she hung about counting bodies and wound up getting caught, so she turned her back on the scene and ran towards the manhole before she could take another look at Rebel.

Syd Porter

Only a man with nerves steady enough to find time to smile in a gunfight could control the urgency of such a moment. If Syd had been left to his own devices after his captors had been killed then the panic would have driven him either to freeze up or rush back onto the battleground in search of survivors. As long as Jackson was leading the way, however, he would end up taking a more controlled approach. In times of crisis, the man had a way of keeping him grounded, lowering any tension with his confident, easy-going tone of voice, and it was working now just as well as it ever had. Spitting lightly against the blood that streamed over his lips, Syd nodded in return, his eyes fixed to Jackson’s as if to absorb his bold attitude.

If only he had kept them looking forward. The shock of the gunshots that followed left no room to realise his mistake, too busy trying to stay on his feet as Jackson stumbled back into him, all the while holding him firmly behind his back. Syd felt the impact of every bullet that hit Jackson’s chest but he couldn’t fully register what was happening until the pair tripped over the desk in the manager’s office and fell clumsily to the floor in a tangled heap. Syd instinctively sat up, and even in the dim light his eyes were drawn to the dark patches soaking through Jackson’s coveralls. At first he was dumbstruck, but when the man reached to grab onto the desk and lever himself up, Syd jumped up and reached out with his arms to stop him from falling. “Woah, steady -” he blurted out, almost struggling to keep up with him.

Once Jackson was on his feet, Syd moved around to take another look at the red patches spreading across his chest, eyes wide in horror. His hands reached out to the man’s waist and held him firmly, feeling the stiff body armour through his coveralls. Jackson was never one to neglect safety measures, but there was only so much protection a kevlar vest could guarantee before it could be outdone by the force of a bullet. “Fuck...H-how are you…” It amazed him that the man could even stand, let alone talk in such a blasé manner. He could feel his own heart pumping violently as he observed the surface damage. True to his nature, Jackson insisted that he would be fine and even managed a laugh, but Syd was too shaken for his Godfather’s confidence to rub off on him this time. Despite the tears glistening in his eyes, however, a strong determination soon came over him and he hooked his arms around the man, ready to walk him to the door. “If you come with me, you will,” he asserted, though his voice lacked the same vigor that it had a moment ago. Now with just the one hand free, Syd abandoned his MP5 and instead withdrew his old Smith & Wesson revolver, ready to fire if anyone else jumped out at them.

If Ethan’s death hadn’t come at such a price, Syd would surely have revelled in the act of stepping over his corpse. However, with Jackson bleeding through his vest, there was no one to slow down the urgency anymore. They had to escape, and they had to escape fast. “CONOR!” Syd called out, though for the thick fog consuming the room ahead he wasn’t sure if anyone was there to hear him. “Someday - someday this’ll just be another story for you to tell," he muttered, fear hanging on every word. "About how you put that East Harlem fucker down, and saved my life again. I'm racking up a debt here, you know...so just let me take care of you this time, okay?”

Interactions
Misty Gray Adam, Conor, Ethan
Enzyme Amato, Jackson
Bellz Rebel

 

[Misty Gray]

Adam Harper and Conor Sullivan​

Above the ongoing gunfire, the Sullivans could hear shouting coming from the Moretti side, but they initially figured it was the men barking out orders to each other. Then, the return fire died down and the voice spewing the orders could be heard more clearly. He couldn't see the man in question, but Conor remembered Amato's voice from the altercation in the auction venue car park a few weeks ago. The men were being ordered - compelled - to make a fast exit. Even without overhearing the word "pigs", Adam would have still sent his boss the same curious glance he did in that moment. The Morettis had clearly been outnumbering the Sullivans in the area, so they couldn't have been retreating out of fear of the Irish. The only other thing that would make a criminal bolt so hastily was the cops and it was a sentiment Adam tended to share.

There was no continuation of return gunfire, prompting Adam to take the plunge and cautiously peer over the seats before slowly standing up, his gun all the while aimed ready to fire back. As he stepped further out into the open, he discreetly peered down both sides of the corridor. The only bodies around were the dead or dying ones on the floor. "We're clear," Adam confirmed to Conor and Perry, the other Irish soldier who had taken cover. Adam practically licked his lips as he eyed the direction the Morettis had gone in. Intending to stay out of sight of the enemy, he beckoned Conor and Perry to join him as he followed the path the Morettis had taken. "Let's see where they're rushing off to." He glanced back in the opposite direction, the faint flashing red and blue lights against the wall were enough to tell him they wouldn't be leaving the same way they'd entered unless they wanted to be arrested.

As they continued on, they reached the door that led to the loading dock. The three Sullivans remained out of view as they observed the enemy heading in the same direction towards the manhole, which they soon realised was the Morettis' means of escape. Given they weren't the only ones who needed to escape, Adam held off from pursuing them and reigniting the gunfight, wanting to preserve the escape route without the cops following the gunshot sounds and stumbling upon it. Adam had expected one of the others to comment but there was a silence and it wasn't until he turned back to Conor that he saw the man crouched down in front of Rebel. "Fuck..." Adam hissed as he looked down to see his deceased friend and close teammate. There was a silence that they maintained out of respect for the woman, acknowledging not only the work she'd done over the years but especially the fact she'd just sacrificed her life to take down many of their attackers.

Still crouched down, Conor tightened his jaw and clenched fists as he supressed any kind of intense angry or emotional reaction. He took a moment to pay respects to his family's loyal employee but for a moment remained on the floor as he considered his next move. Feeling two pairs of eyes on him, Conor eventually stood up, looking to Perry before settling his focus on Adam. The other man compelled him to give the next order, to which Conor obliged. "You gentleman have a choice. Get your arses out of here now or come with me. I'm heading back that way," he said, pointing in the direction opposite the Morettis escape route and back towards the security checkpoint. "If any of my employees need help and I can still reach them now, then I owe it to them to try getting them out before the cops get to them."

Adam nodded his head in approval. In all honesty, he would have been disappointed if he'd been ordered to escape in that moment. Although he would have followed his boss' order, he would have hated potentially leaving behind fellow soldiers who needed his help. "Looks like I'm heading the same way," Adam confirmed, as did Perry. Whilst he believed Conor cared for all of his employees, he was also aware that they had started the mission with both Conor's nephew and Conor's best friend at their side, neither of which had been seen since they were first ambushed. Of course his boss couldn't leave loved ones behind. As the three men turned to see how far they could retrace their steps before needing to evade the cops, Adam sent another glance back to Rebel knowing they would likely have to leave her behind. He was thankful to still be focused on the mission, but figured he'd have plenty of time for reflection if he made it back home that night.

 

[Enzyme]

Jackson McCarthy​

Despite Jackson's stubbornness, he latched onto Syd's shoulders as if he were his life support. He had never been one to show any form of weakness under any circumstance, but without Syd's guidance, there was no way he'd make it a foot in any direction. With one hand on Syd, he used the rest of his motor-skills to put one foot in front of the other like he was taking his first steps just 42 years later. At Syd's promise to keep him alive, Jackson gave a weak smile, although his pearly whites had now been overrun with the gore that had begun to infest his mouth. Despite how badly he wanted to tell Syd how proud of him he was, how strong the boy had become in the face of adversity, his voice had been suffocated by the gallons of blood filling his throat. At this point, even breathing had become a losing battle, as his short breathes were becoming more labored and scarce by the second.

As they rounded the door, out into the hallway, Jackson felt his senses slip away, believing he was being carried upon a soft, floating cloud. It was as if he had overdosed on Novacaine, and couldn't feel a single thing, but the lightness under his dragging feet. Soon, the sounds of his heavy breathing become the only audible noise, as he rocked back and forth under Syd's arm. A loud noise trailed from the end of the hallway, and while it was startling, Jackson's drooping face remained unfazed, as it wasn't the sound of a gunshot or horrific screaming, but a little girl's giggle. As his sagging eye slid to the corner of the wall, he saw the silhouette of a tiny girl with pigtails dancing around, the ethereal edges of her dress fluttering in the sunlight. She followed behind a tall, beautiful woman, who sauntered across the tattered floor as if she were stepping among the clouds. Both of their heads faced away from Jackson, but he could feel their energy in the air. He knew what this was. He was dying.

Soon the once empty hall was filled with apparitional figures, like scenes from different plays all taking place at once. Some of the figures were members of his family, some of them were past targets, some of them were even Jackson himself. Scenes from his life unfolded right in front of him, with every painful memory to every memory he had cherished since the day it became one. As Syd physically hauled him right through every spiritual projection, they dispersed upon his face like the kiss of a gentle breeze.

They had only made it a few paces down the hall, before Jackson's legs gave out entirely and he crumbled to the floor in a bloody mess. Using his last drop of strength, he pushed himself over onto his back, his pale-white face streaked with the blood from the pool that was forming below him. There he laid, unwilling to move, with no drive left to fight. His breathing, however, sounded less congested and freer - as if accepting his fate had put him at peace. His once aimless orbs, locked onto Syd, as even in death, he hadn't lost his witts.

"Syd..." he drew out, his pale lips parting to let out a whistle of air. "Syd...."

Pyroclast (Syd)

 

[Pyroclast]

Chase Zegarra

With nothing but his colleagues in mind, Chase fell into a state of silent concentration as he drove himself and Jasmine towards the abandoned train station. He wasn’t a chatty person at the best of times, but not even Jasmine’s presence could break his anxious silence in a situation like this. The pair had arrived at their post over an hour ago, giving themselves enough time to settle before the squad were supposed to head out on their mission. Unfortunately, that only meant that they had no real idea of how long the fight had been going on for, and so couldn’t calculate their chances of finding them alive. In a calmer state, Chase might have commended Kerry for her bravery at risking the consequences of Gabriel finding out that she was betraying him, but in that moment he couldn’t help but resent her for not telling them the truth sooner. Where lives were at stake, every second counted.

As they approached the road leading to the train station, a drone of overlapping sirens echoed in the distance. "Coño," he muttered, loosening his grip on the wheel as the Corvair rolled to a pause at a red light. "There goes plan A..." Despite the high crime rate in New York City, it was fair to assume that nothing else on that block would draw more attention than a mass shootout. "Okay, what if we drive past and get a glimpse of what’s going on at least? Then we know how far they…” He trailed off as a crowd of silhouettes in an adjacent alleyway caught his eye. They appeared to be crawling up from the ground in dozens. He watched as they swarmed towards the back of the alley, weapons swinging at their sides, and disappeared into the dark road on the other side. “Jasmine, how many of us were sent to the train station tonight?” he asked, nodding towards the alleyway. “It wasn’t as many as that, right?”

The changing of the lights forced him into motion before he could come up with an alternative route and it took some manoeuvring for him to find a place to park with a view of the alleyway. By the time they came to a stop, however, the place was as empty as if it had all been a figment of his imagination. “That big group, they came out of the ground over there. If our men have a chance of escaping before the cops turn up, they might take the same route. Or...the cops find it first...” He didn’t want to outwardly suggest that their entire team had been killed, but as long as there was a chance of it, they had to consider the risk of running into the cops in the sewer instead of a colleague. Heaving a sigh, Chase turned to look directly at Jasmine. “What do you think? Do we risk it and head in or find another way?”

Interactions
Misty Gray Jasmine

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

Syd could feel Jackson grow heavier in his arms as he hauled him out of the room and down the corridor, but he kept on speaking to him, an attempt to keep him in the present moment. Just a moment ago he had had the strength to stand up - now he wouldn’t even answer. The man was deteriorating rapidly but Syd kept his misty eyes on the doors ahead, driven by a stubborn optimism. He was doing exactly what he knew Jackson would do: not slowing down, not giving up. After a few weak, unsteady steps, however, Jackson’s knees buckled and his full weight collapsed into Syd’s arms, forcing him to lower themselves to the ground.

Not wanting to miss a single moment, Syd tore off his mask and cast it aside. He held his Godfather’s gaze in a tenacious grip, terrified of losing him if he looked away for even a second. He wanted to fight it for him, he wanted to order the man to his feet and see him to a hospital and then home to his wife and daughter...but deep down, Syd knew that Jackson wasn’t going to get up again. When the man faintly spoke Syd’s name, it came gurgling up through the blood that pooled in his throat. Syd had never heard such weakness in Jackson’s voice before, nor seen his sagging eyes look so distant. Yet still they latched onto Syd, bearing an expression of peace that might have looked out of place in a combat zone. Of course, Syd recognised it in an instant: it was the same expression that Skye had worn the last time she had looked him in the eyes. The calling of death appeared somehow to override the pain of dying, leaving only an appreciation for what truly mattered in life. That was when he knew Jackson was in his final moments.

Whilst cradling the man’s head off the floor, Syd took his hand into a strong grip and gave it a squeeze. “Jackson,” he whispered in response, barely able to speak for the burning lump in his throat. There was a distinct tremble on his breath as several uncontainable tears rolled down his face and splashed onto the man’s coveralls. Still, he did his best to keep the worst at bay. All the impending threats that surrounded them - the cops, the Morettis - he didn’t care about any of them anymore. There was nothing at all that could tear him from his Godfather’s side. “I’m here,” he assured him, forcing the words out between strained breaths. “It’s gonna be alright, Jackson. I-I’m gonna take care of everything. I promise...” He flashed the man a warm, honest smile, but he could only keep it up for a second before the pain tore it down again. “We’ll be okay.”

Interactions
Enzyme Jackson
Misty Gray Conor