It starts with a roll of thunder.
At least, that’s what you think it is—a low growl through the atmosphere that seems to echo deep and low in your chest—as you turn over in bed, or perhaps as you’re finishing your last drink at a local pub with some new acquaintances, or even as you’re walking home on otherwise safe streets, lamps and moonlight guiding your path. All’s well that ends well: the city is your haven, it’s been sold to you as such, and a little stormy weather never did much harm.
You close your eyes. You take a drink. You turn the corner.
But the sound continues, the vibration grows more oppressive, and you may think to yourself: Thunder shouldn’t shake my nightstand.
Thunder doesn’t send a pulse through the tequila in a shot glass.
Thunder wouldn’t compel the asphalt to rumble and churn beneath my boots.
It all happens very quickly after that; things fall apart.
The cheers of late-night partygoers tumble into a minor chord, sliding into screams—a party of five has just lost sight of two of its members as Main Street splits itself in zigzags rippling out from the city’s center. One side surges into the air as the other half plummets several feet down, small ravines forming along the thoroughfare. The damage replicates itself like dominoes, and citizens new and old alike cry for help into the empty night.
Someone is hanging onto the edge of one jagged, yellow-striped mound of asphalt, fingers slipping, grip temporary. Do you know them?
Do you help?
Within minutes, buildings begin to buckle under the stress of the earth shifting. Metal and concrete siding, roof tiles, window panes—what first sounds like cannon fire clearly presents itself as establishments crumbling while panicked citizens race to covered positions or out into the chaos of the openly shaking streets for any semblance of safety.
“Earthquake!” You hear. “Cover your head!”
The tallest buildings suffer the most damage (the bigger they are, the harder they fall). At the city’s heart, the clock tower sinks almost gently down as if feeling faint, seeking solace in the skirts of its foundation. People blink in shock as the dust rolls over them moments later.
Victims covered in soot and debris, looking for all intents and purposes as if they’d been disturbed from their graves, disperse across the city, trying to reach the authorities, to find their loved ones. It’s clear that amidst the rubble, both formed and newly falling, some of these loved ones are trapped. You hear desperate, muffled calls, buried beneath layers of shattered stone and cement. Voices struggling to be heard through the ongoing shriek and groan of the earth… still… shaking. One of these voices may even be your own. Are you near? Can you lead someone to safety?
Can you pull victims from the rubble? Are you, yourself, in trouble?
The city bank’s vault is loose, no doubt. The shops are in trouble, security gates destroyed. Do you take advantage while you can?
Whatever you decide, watch for the emergency vehicles and fire trucks barreling their way toward the center of destruction, rescue crews ready to spot those in need. Perhaps you can help them. Perhaps they can help you, instead. (Perhaps they can apprehend you, too, if you misbehave and don’t cover your tracks.)
The rumble continues, curls its way like a fist further out towards the city limits, losing ferocity as it does, but it takes the temporary housing district for its final victim. The city’s newest arrivals won’t get much sleep tonight. Rifts in concrete walls crawl their way from the ground floors, up, all vine and sinew and spider web. Some are more severe than others. While the first floor rooms may find more damage to their walls, bedroom windows bursting as foundations tilt, the upper floors will see things end up just a hair off in balance—askew. Put a glass of water on the table, and it may not stay in one place for long.
Surely the building isn’t safe enough to sleep in, not now. Can you make it safe? Can you reach out to your neighbors? How do you manage?
Three hours after the initial disturbance, long after earlier news programs had urgently advised all city dwellers to take due cover during the apparent earthquake, a crackling message filters through across television screens, electronic billboards, and on your city-issued devices. Mayor Drake sits in full view in front of the Energem, the symbol of the city, its life force. It is in one piece, from the looks of it, and so is she (if understandably haggard and dark around the eyes). “Citizens of Cadelle, as you know, we’ve suffered quite the seismic anomaly this evening. Tectonic plate shifting is not abnormal in a city so near the coast, but we had yet to experience an earthquake of this magnitude in all our recorded history. Although most of the damage was focused towards the city’s center, that center was hit hard.”
The side of her mouth twitches minutely, as though she is biting back further words, and instead, she plasters on a smile of pure grit. “Our top tier seismology center is already on the case, and the administration will keep you informed of any significant findings. In the meantime, we wish to thank all our rescue workers and volunteer citizens who helped our loved ones find shelter and safety. Please be advised we will begin reconstruction of our Community Housing Facility immediately. Volunteers to assist with this project, and with the restoration of privately owned establishments along Main Street, are welcomed, even encouraged. After a more in-depth assessment, we may be able to create paying job opportunities for the duration of this project. Please stay tuned.”
A constructive spin on this tale couldn’t hurt, could it?
“For now, we wish for you to stay safe. Food and shelter accommodations at the public gymnasium are being made ready for those of you currently left without rooms. We apologize for the communal nature of these accommodations, but it is the best we can provide on emergency notice. We appreciate your patience, and your help.”
And with that closing remark, the feed cuts.
Mayor Drake’s shoulders slide out of their poised position, and she bows her head, hand over her brow.
Behind her, unbeknownst to anyone, the Energem flickers—just once.
On the far side, beneath the cover of the protective wall, a small fissure has formed in the crystal surface.
A kinetic rift.
For more in-depth information about this event and how it affects your character, to ask event-specific questions, and to plot with your fellow players, please visit the event's OOC PLOTTING POST. |
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cuddlecity2017-08-12 12:00 pm
leonard snart ▸ ota + starters
AND POOF! TURNED THEM ALL TO STONE.
ET CETERA.
for sara.
there is one thing he knows he can do, though.
he meanders his way to the hospital and charms one of the nurses at the front. they need help, and he's got a certain set of skills that make him pretty damn useful. it's a good match. nurse able loans him a pair of scrubs since his clothes are all covered in ash and leads him to a certain wing in the hospital.
luckily, there aren't many occupants of the nicu and a handful in the attached nursery. but there's enough little ones there that need looking after while some of the nurses get co-opted for other jobs and new parents recover and try to sort out their lives. it's been a while, but he slides into the familiar motions for caring for a tiny like slipping into a worn pair of shoes.
he's sitting in a rocking chair with a little girl in his arms, head pillowed on his chest, when he gets a text from sara checking in on him. with a free hand, he types out a quick I'm fine. Helping @ hospital. and sends it, not really thinking much of it. certainly not expecting her to come see him in person.
but she does. and he's caught flat footed and off-guard as he catches sight of her in the doorway, the song he'd been humming softly coming to an abrupt stop. ]
You could've just texted back.
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a simple enough text, fired off to sara's nearest and dearest as she pulls off-white boots over the skintight pants of the same hue that make up her white canary suit. sara knows that she doesn't need a suit to be a hero, that's for damn sure, but in a city this big with people from all over the multiverse, maybe a full-fledged legend will inspire trust in her ability to help people where she can.
the responses trickle in as sara scours the streets — all affirmations of their safety. except then the name crook pops up on her phone screen and she sees the word hospital and that's the end of that.
she kicks it into high gear and ends up in the hospital in no time, past sliding doors that seem to be locked in the open position, hands leaning against the table full of volunteers at the front as she pants, ) Snart. Leonard Snart. Where is he. ( obstetrics, the woman says, after looking down a list of handwritten names in front of her, and sara takes off for the elevator.
it doesn't even hit her, really, until she exits the elevator, doors sliding behind her with a light ding, and she sees the colorful mural, clearly painted by children, in front of her, fluffy clouds and rainbows and storks flying down with babies in swaddles held in their beaks. this — doesn't make sense. maybe the hospital's out of rooms in other wings? a million possibilities, each more terrible than the last, run through her head as she power walks down the hallway and hangs a left into the corridor, lights soft and soothing. she's lost him once — no, twice already, and she can't bear to —
she stops dead in her tracks in the doorway when len's ever-so-terrible fate is revealed to her: cradling a baby girl in his arms, judging by the bow fashioned into her hospital-provided hat, humming to her as he rocks slowly back and forth in a rocking chair. she has precious few moments to observe this until he notices her, and she immediately feels the weight of her own stupidity, her sheer recklessness weigh down on her.
sara knows how out-of-place she looks, decked out in her full regalia, a sharp contrast to the soft colors of the nursery. i thought something happened to you feels like a stupid answer. she swallows hard, still watching him, a little incredulous. )
I had to see it with my own two eyes. Leonard Snart: Do-Gooder.
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it's not that he's ashamed of being caught out like this. back when they'd dropped their younger selves off at the time master school, he'd had to hold onto himself for a while and it was clear he was good with little ones. but the bright hospital lights almost feel like spotlights, shining down on softness that has never been easy to show. ]
Gotta generate that positive energy somehow. And these rugrats can't give me lip for it.
[ in his arms, the little girl snuffles a little in her sleep. len glances down and his face automatically softens as he makes sure she's still comfortable and not upset. ]
They're doing volunteer shifts around here. [ he pauses. then, not looking back up at sara, offers, ] Mine's over in fifteen, if you want to stick around.
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that answer, at the very least, makes sara breathe out a huff of laughter, the start of the clear tension between them, discomfort on both sides, beginning to wane. it's hard for it not to, when the baby makes a sound in her sleep and, like clockwork, len's attention snaps to the little one, and sara's attention snaps to him.
his hardened expression softens into something sara's only seen in precious few moments — concern, fading into something like affection. sara's arms tighten around herself, like she's bracing herself against whatever kinds of feelings, ones that she can't even begin to put words to, swell through her.
finally, a concession, tension dissolved in a simple offer — one that sara responds to by simply closing the distance between them, pulling up another rocking chair next to his, and sitting down, allowing herself to relax a little. there's no response to his explanation, nor his offer, simply: ) She's beautiful.
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[ the rocking chair slows as he starts humming again. foreigner, this time. as the chair slows to a stop, len stands with a move that's smooth and obviously practiced. this isn't the first time he's rocked a baby to sleep and then gently set them down in a bassinet. ]
Her mom's got a fever, [ he says quietly, ] and dad's out digging people out of rubble. There's a couple of 'em here with situations like that. [ hence the rocking and the looking after. someone's gotta do it, and it's easy to see that the hospital staff are pretty frazzled. ] Not the greatest way to start life, but I think she'll do fine.
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sara, instead, simply watches him proceed with this routine, looking more than a little dumbfounded. reconciling this new side of leonard snart, one that she'd never even considered, is admittedly difficult. it makes perfect sense, though, knowing what she does about his childhood — about his sister, who she'd considered one of her closest friends back in eudio, about his terrible father, who'd left len's skin marred with scars he'd rather hide and forget about. of course he'd take care of his baby sister. it's what laurel had done for her.
her fingers clench the arms of the rocking chair, foot guiding her chair back and forth just enough. ) Hell of a reality check for someone so small. ( her gaze sweeps towards the infant in the clear bassinet, lingering for a moment. ) It's people like her that I've always wanted to protect. Those who can't protect themselves, who shouldn't have to.
( which she's not doing a great job of, considering her complacency, sitting in a rocking chair and doing nothing. )
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it's something he enjoys doing. probably for much the same reason sara feels an urge to protect people like this little girl. the innocence and unabashed joy that well taken care of babies can put out always reminds him that the world isn't complete shit and not every parent is as awful as his was. ]
Can't do much to protect people from a natural disaster. [ the cynical part of his mind whispers that there's not much someone like sara could do to really protect this little girl if her old man turned out anything like his either. but he keeps that to himself. ] But you're probably helping the relief efforts out.
[ he looks at her, eyebrow raised to make it clear that, while that is technically a statement, it's also a question. ]
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( sara cracks her knuckles, turns her head towards the window, sees only clouds of smoke and debris rising over tall buildings, the occasional spinning whir or red and blue.
she could take on a hundred men singlehandedly and come out on the other side of it relatively unscathed, but a natural disaster? this is like nothing sara's ever faced before; she imagines oliver must've felt like this trying to save those that he loved from the undertaking that threatened the glades of starling city, threatened her sister. the white canary may not have special powers or be a superalien, but she's still determined to help in any way that she can. )
Could use another pair of eyes to help locate stragglers — they're sending everyone to public gym for safety and shelter until the city's got the all clear.
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leonard sticks out his left foot in sara's direction and pulls up the leg of the loaned scrub pants enough for her to see the air brace on his ankle. ] And I'm pretty sure there's a nurse or three in here who'll stab me with a scalpel if I do too much to this.
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well, sara might think that the earthquake was all just a big diversion from some type of invasion of the body snatchers thing.
her expression shifts as he reveals the brace on his ankle, brow furrowing. in any other situation, she might be capital-c Concerned about it, but from what she's seen so far during the aftermath of the quake, a sprained ankle seems downright lucky. ) What happened?
(no subject)
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for mick.
with one last shove, he pushes the mattress onto the dolly he'd borrowed so they wouldn't have to actually carry the thing. pushing it on wheels is much easier. even if it is still a pain in the ass to move a california king. ]
'S a good thing you didn't suddenly decide you wanted memory foam. [ those fuckers are even harder to move. ] Think we should grab box springs too while we're at it or make a second trip?
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but just like old times, snart slides over blueprints and sets up the plan, leaving mick little option but to nod along. he's missed this. the rush of adrenaline, the potential for capture.
which brings them to the present, shoving a huge mattress onto a cart at a time when no one would be anywhere near a showroom floor. well, almost no one at any rate. mick secures the mattress with a few well placed pieces of twine.]
Individually wrapped coils are comfier. I'd have gone for a memory foam if they'd had one of the cooling gel ones though...
[who knew that mick rory had so many opinions about beds. he's ready to head for the delivery bay when leonard brings up the all too important box springs.]
Should grab 'em now. Best not look a gift earthquake in the mouth.
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and it's nice to get back to basics. it's been a long while since it's just been the two of them carrying out a heist like this. he's missed it. ]
Good point. [ it'll make things a little harder to move with the added weight, but better to do it now than risk getting caught by doing it later. ] C'mere and help me with this.
[ while box springs are infinitely lighter than mattresses themselves, they're still really damn awkward to move. especially when they're so big. ]
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mick's hardly a small guy, but maneuvering the box spring intended for such a large bed isn't an easy task. he and leonard team lift the thing onto the cart, dropping it on top with a soft thud.
going on a little thieving spree with leonard always makes mick feel just a little bit greedy, like that mouse in the book where the list of demands just gets longer and longer with each thing obtained. this time is no different. the question slips out without a second thought, they're probably tempting fate, but there's always time for a some thieving.] We grabbing pillows too, or you think you'll be happy with what you've got?
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len leans on the handle of their dolly cart and looks at their haul, all thoughtful like. he almost suggests going for bedding too, but. well. there's only so much they can do in this aftermath without things getting too risky. a bed being nabbed for people to sleep on is one thing. that'll probably be brushed off and not pursued much. but if they start getting nice sheets and duvets to go with it, that's something else entirely.
sad, that he'll probably have to spend a truly stupid amount of money on that later. but at least he doesn't have to work for any of it. ]
We should head out. Before any of the crews end up wandering this way again.
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they've done the mental rehearsing enough for him to know the plan backwards and forwards. and while the ace in his pocket is always the option to throw the plan out the window, now isn't the time for that. not yet anyway.]
Yeah. Let's roll. Don't think our new friends here will take too kindly to me lighting things on fire.
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with a heave
and a ho and a mighty throwand a slight protest from his ankle, leonard pushes the cart towards their exit strategy, trusting mick to be following right along behind them. ]You been to the art museum yet?
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like the
trusty sidekickdevoted partner in crime that he is, mick follows suit carefully scanning at each corner to make sure the coast is clear before waving leonard on through.]Not yet. You know me. Art's not really my thing. Besides, I don't think this place is big enough for us to steal a painting just to fence it. Unless you're asking so you can redecorate.
▸ sos heard loud and clear, over.
the feeling of smug satisfaction knowing it's leonard snart putting out the distress call, and that he'd thought of her as a potential rescuer? well, that just about washes away any nagging worries in the back of her head about the whole demorphing to answer him thing. she considers sending back a quick reply, but opts not to. kimberly hart sending a omw! text, only for the pink ranger to show up in her place, sounds like exactly the cheesy sitcom swap that someone as routinely nonplussed as leonard will see right through. better to err on the side of caution here.
making her way over to gamma building doesn't take much time at all, and the building is mercifully empty of stragglers as she climbs inside, avoiding the occasional downpour of ceiling tile or rubble as rescue crews explore the upper floors. they must have missed him, what with the door barricaded shut. at least he'd been smart enough to send out an sos. a tentative push to the wooden door with her palm confirms her first impression: this is going to be messy. )
Leonard Snart? If you can hear me, try to... move back, if you can. ( morphed into her armor, her voice comes out distorted, a little deeper and almost robotic sounding. her first attempt at rescue is to ram against the paneling with her shoulder, which earns the echo of something heavy as it tilts away only to teeter back, slamming against the inside of the door. that doesn't sound good. ) Damnit.
( if she shoves this door open... whatever that is is probably going to fall right on top of him. which kind of defeats the whole purpose of a rescue. )
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Alright, fire in the hole!
[ hopefully without any actual fire because that would just be the rotten cherry on top of the shit sundae this whole thing is shaping up to be. ]
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Whoops. ( maybe a little too much strength? but at least nobody's hurt. silver linings. from behind her mask, the sound of a tinny, distorted voice, only vaguely feminine: ) You okay over there, Leonard? Need a lift?
( she's never really done the whole 'rescue a damsel in distress' thing, but she can do this. definitely. she's a frickin' power ranger. )
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Nice outfit. Very Juicy tracksuit meets Iron Man. [ is this a compliment or an insult?? who knows.
he picks his way around the room, very determinedly not limping until he steps over the mess that was his bedroom door and into the hallway of his apartment. ] Thanks for the timely rescue, Pinky.
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Thanks. Iron Man sucks, though. ( she's team black widow, obviously. after a beat, she adds: ) And you're welcome, obviously.
( the sudden limp does, at least, catch her attention as she watches him gingerly pick his way out of the apartment. )
Hey, are you sure you're okay?
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[ leonard pauses on the way to the front door, throwing a look at kimberly over his shoulder. ]
The way out clear from here?