14 July 2005

East Bridge Street

The power plant to the south, chain-link fence delineating it sharply from the
      street, takes up two blocks, from Fourth to Second. Across the street, 
      and down along Second and to First, are tenements, small bars, and the 
      occasional slightly-better-maintained building. Teenagers give older, 
      grim-looking men and women nowhere near enough space for respect, 
      jostling them and sometimes knocking them down while brushing arrogantly 
      by. Trash in the gutters and along the sidewalks is a glum reminder, with 
      the filth spewed from the power plant itself and the factories beyond to 
      the south, of the poverty of the area and the lack of care given to this 
      section of the city. The occasional shot rings out, down the street or in 
      the tiny, darkened alleys burrowing between buildings.

From up north, somewhere in the direction of where the park is located, a soft
      and almost inaudible *thump* is heard above the normal sounds of the 
      city. Half a second later, what sounds like dozens of car alarms go off. 
      Then sirens.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 79 degrees
      Fahrenheit (26 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the 
      north at 12 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.07 and falling, 
      and the relative humidity is 40 percent. The dewpoint is 53 degrees 
      Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius.)

Cole, walking from the wharf, pauses as he notes the unusual sound in the
      distance. He frowns, brow furrowing. "What in the name of-" As car alarms 
      and sirens go off, the frown deepens. "That's not good." He starts to 
      move at a very brisk pace toward the disturbance.

Grey, making a semi-casual patrol of the streets near the park, turns his
      attention away from the beginnings of a shouting match between two of St. 
      Claire's homeless population to look in the direction of the larger 
      disturbance. He frowns, eyes narrowing, and starts heading in that 
      direction.

Regan Avenue East, Downtown

Red brick buildings rise, some of them crumbling from disrepair and disuse,
      others patched together by repairs. Graffiti covers some of the walls 
      near street level, some rude, most crude, but the occasional drawing is 
      meant for a lighter-hearted reaction. The graffiti becomes a colorful, 
      almost gaudy mural at the western end of the district, an announcement of 
      the Regan Hope Project's presence. Trash litters the majority of the 
      gutters, from Harbor Park in the east across to just before the Regan 
      Hope Project's domain, where the trash is less prevalent and the 
      buildings less run-down. Small shops with apartments in the floors above 
      them span a block here and corners there: delis, second-hand clothes, 
      textiles, small restaurants, a grocery store. Sandwiched between the 
      buildings are weed-choked empty lots.

Cole comes up from Bridge Street, to the south.

As you both hurry northwards, you see--to your relief--that it doesn't look
      like anything out of the ordinary has happened to the park and the glade 
      within it. But something definitely happened further up north as smoke 
      seems to be rising from the cluster of buildings a few blocks ahead. The 
      source is obscured by buildings. An ambulance rushes past, lights ablaze 
      and siren screaming, headed north.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Half Moon phase (55% full).

Cole is only momentarily relieved at seeing the park seemingly unscathed,
      reflected by a slowing of his pace. And then the black plumes register. 
      He shades his eyes against the onslaught of the amublance's lights, and 
      pauses for a moment, simply taking stock.

Grey, moving at a quick, long-legged stride, catches sight of the Fianna and
      heads in his direction. He greets the other with a curt, "Cole," as he 
      comes alongside the other. "Did you see what happened?"

Cole goes northwards towards Elson Street.
You go northwards towards Elson Street.

East Elson Commercial Sector and Waterfront

Motels, movie theaters with posters of scantily-clad women, and even a few
      posters of nudes, and bars are interspersed with stairways leading to 
      dilapidated second stories or downwards into basements. Women saunter 
      along the western streets of the district, around Third and Fourth 
      Streets. In the area around Second, a profusion of graffiti markings of 
      black knives or the words 'The Blades' are scattered along buildings and 
      sidewalks. A little further eastwards beer cans are scattered around the 
      entrance to one bar with, if one looks through the window, several pool 
      tables in enthusiastic use for several hours a night and even 
      occasionally during the day.

Cole starts to move in the direction of the black smoke, even as he's greeted.
      "Grey," he responds. "Just heard it. Bomb or some sort of explosion, it 
      feels like." He keeps a watchful eye out for any incoming emergency 
      vehicles. "Going to go check it out. You?"
Before you stands a man, looking to be around twenty years of age, or in that
      neighborhood. Either he's in a rebellious streak, or has had something 
      unfortunate happen to him, judging by his appearance. The young man is 
      completely hairless. From his crown to his brow, there's no hair visible 
      at all. Strangely enough, there's no sign of what could have caused this. 
      His eyes are a warm grey, curiosity showing in his glance. His 5' 10'' 
      frame shows signs of an active and healthy lifestyle, though he's by no 
      means 'buff'. He wears a pair of brand new jeans, not even broken in by 
      their appearance. A thick grey sweater spans his shoulders, while a pair 
      of elderly hiking boots serve his footware needs.

Cole pages: Desc isn't quite current. He's got his hair back. Auburn colored.
      Short, as of yet. But not so much that it couldn't just be a short 
      haircut.

You paged Tskilegwa with 'Did it sound a lot like an explosion?'.

The source of the fire is still not visibile because of the buildings, but is
      definitely closer now. The quantity of smoke in the sky has grown. 
      Something is burning. Lots. And you're not the only people to have 
      noticed. People have started coming out onto the sidewalks and gawking. 
      Chatter around you seems to also be speculating on a bomb or a terrorist 
      attack. A few curious types are even walking in that direction to see 
      what's up. And a handful of people are jogging and running in that 
      direction. Three police cars and a fire truck pass you by on the street 
      with their sirens wailing.

Tskilegwa pages: Hard to tell from the distance when it happened, but it did
      kind of sound like maybe an explosion of some sort.

You go northwards towards the medical center.

Medical Center, Near the Waterfront

From Riverfront Drive to Beaugregory Boulevard, the Hilliard Memorial Hospital
      rises, a massive building surrounded by well-tended lawns and tall trees. 
      The Hospital spreads northwards to Hospital Drive itself; across Silver 
      and Beaugregory from the hospital proper are research buildings and 
      office buildings: billing offices, small medical libraries, and the rooms 
      with classrooms and laboratories for medical students to learn and 
      experiment. Along Riverfront, on its eastern side, food vendors have set 
      up small stands which receive a brisk business in the noon hours, shaded 
      under the trees lining the street. North of Hospital Drive, the 
      administrative buildings continue, spreading another block or so north to 
      I-90, which slashes across the city streets in an abrupt divider.

Cole comes up the street from the Elson commercial sector to the south.

Grey falls into step with the younger man. Either by coincidence or deliberate
      intention, he's got the Fianna on his blind side. He nods once. "The 
      same." His habitual frown deepens.

Cole is scanning the area carefully as he moves, matching his speed to his
      companion. "You don't think it's the hospital do you," he asks, a dark 
      expressing flitting over his features. "God, I hope some yahoo didn't do 
      something we're all going to regret."

Grey's jaw tightens. "Hadn't thought of that. City'll probably go to hell fast
      if so." He quickens his pace.

As the street leads you further north, you discover that Hilliard Memorial
      Hospital is ablaze and has a gaping hole blown out of the middle of the 
      second floor right above the main entrance. Parts of the first and third 
      floor are exposed by the blast, and a fire is raging inside. It seems to 
      have spread rapidly as you can see the flames licking at the insides of 
      the windows in the top 4th floors shortly before the windows break and 
      rain glass down on the people still escaping from the building. Because a 
      lot of the hospital occupants were already wounded or not very mobile to 
      begin with, it's difficult to say who outside is really wounded and who 
      isn't. But there's literally well over a hundred people that look to be 
      injured, burned, or otherwise suffering from physical trauma. A news crew 
      is already on the scene and a news copter can be heard coming from the 
      heart of the city. On the ground, it's complete chaos as 
      people--horrifically burned--continue coming out of the hospital.

Cole only puts on more speed when the hospital that has been the source of so
      much consternation recently comes into sight. "Shit! C'mon, Grey!" The 
      Galliard tries to make his way through any gawkers, trying for subtlty 
      but not unwilling to shoulder his way past. "Out of the way, people!"

Grey, cursing briefly in Serbian, follows after the Fianna, his lips peeling
      back away from his teeth.

As you get closer--within about 100 feet of the main entryway--you can
      physically feel the heat coming off of the building. A woman with nothing 
      but charred flesh and clothes that are melted to her body lies on the 
      ground along with numerous other people. If she's lucky, she's not still 
      alive as a rescue worker attempts first aid. The smell in the air is 
      sickening. Everyone coming out of the building right now is badly burned 
      as the fire is clearly both out of control and hungrily consuming 
      everything that can burn. Chunks of building material falls from the 
      ceiling onto someone who almost made it out. Uninjured people are either 
      gawking and generally staying out of the way or trying to help the 
      obvious rescue workers and hospital employees and doctors with the 
      wounded. Injured are put into ambulances and sent off to the nearest 
      hospital.A fully suited fireman breaks a window on the third floor, 
      flames right behind him, and leaps out rather than wait for a ladder and 
      be burned. "Everyone out!" a fireman is yelling over a megaphone. "It's 
      going to collapse!"

Cole shoots a horror-filled glance toward the poor woman, looking momentarily
      green around the gills. Time seems to slow for the Fianna as he takes in 
      all the injured and dying. He looks absolutely horror-struck. When the 
      fireman takes his likely fatal leap, he's spurred into action. He spins 
      around, facing the uninjured behind him. His next words are augmented by 
      one of the most basic gifts he has, hopefully to good effect. "Everyone 
      who can move, back off! Help anyone you can reach, but stay away!" This 
      is shouted toward the gawkers.

Grey's eye, meanwhile, is arrested by the poor soul who /almost/ escaped, and
      while Cole starts yelling, the Glass Walker goes stock-still, his face 
      rigid and his teeth bared in a rictus. His gaze moves slowly upward, from 
      the doomed building, to follow the path of the smoke as it reaches 
      skyward.

Grey's jeans pocket beeps with an incoming text message on his cellphone.
      Needless to say, the sound, if it's even audible, is completely ignored.

The smoke blows southwest, over and further into the city. A few gawkers nearby
      actually seem to listen to Cole and do back off in order to get out of 
      the way. A few others--including police and fireman--seem to be doing the 
      same thing as Cole. The fireman that leapt out of the building actually 
      survives the fall, but obviously broke something. A pair of his 
      fire-suited companions brave a rescue into what must be excessive heat 
      even outside the walls of the hospital. Getting that close must be like 
      walking into an oven. But they get him and haul him off to safety. A gout 
      of flame escapes from the roof like some sort of hellish barbeque as the 
      roof collapses. No one else is coming out of the building.

Cole stands back, finally turning to face the building that was so recently a
      hospital when he realizes that he's reached about as many as he can. He 
      looks at Grey from the corner of his eye as he does so. He mouths 
      something under his breath, something that looks like a prayer of some 
      stripe. One hand rises in a vain attempt to shield his face from the 
      heat. "Those poor people..."

Coming from the northwest, heading for the hospital vicinity, Dominic's car
      travels down the streets at as fast a clip as he can get weaving through 
      traffic that has slowed. With police occupied by the blast, he doesn't 
      worry about getting a ticket. "The hell happened?" he's muttering, 
      casting a few glances to the galliard in his passenger seat, Alicia.

Hair blowing back as she leans out the car, Alicia squints her eyes, watching
      the smoke rise upwards into the sky. "I don't know, I'm trying to pick 
      out Cole and Thomas again, be quiet, try and get as close as you can." 
      Her eyes squint, darting about at the mass of people, biting her bottom 
      lip angrily.

Grey pulls his gaze away, apparently with some effort, and turns his good eye
      onto Cole. A muscle twitches in his unscarred cheek, just under the eye. 
      "Nothing we can do here," he says, his voice hoarse and flat.

Dominic nods and goes back to getting around traffic, concentrating not on the
      smoke that has filled the previously sunny sky. "Don't think you're gonna 
      get 'em like this. Any of them gotta cell?"

The traffic becomes impenetrable within half a block of the hospital. A police
      officer driving a dumptruck is using it to calculatingly push unmanned 
      parked cars out of the way to clear a path for several ambulances behind 
      it that were trapped in the vehicular congestion. The midsection of the 
      hospital where the blast apparently occured suddenly caves in and a wave 
      of heat washes over the people out front as the flames leap twice as high 
      as the building for a couple seconds, fire licking into the night sky and 
      reveling in the fresh oxygen. Fire has completely spread through the 
      entire building, belching out of all the broken windows. The odds of 
      there being anyone left alive inside are essentially negligible at this 
      point.

Cole lets out a growl from the back of his throat. "Fuck! There must be
      something we can do!" He's so distraught almost doesn't notice the 
      vibration of the cellphone at his hip for a full minute. When it finally 
      does register, he looks down, as if an alien entity has sprouted from his 
      pocket. He hesitates, then puts it to his mouth. "Really not a good time,"
      he snarls into the mouthpiece, gripping the phone tight enough to make it creak.

Alicia starts yelling into the phone soon as its picked up, motioning to
      Dominic to park off to the side and a bit out of the way of the 
      approaching incoming traffic.

"Aftermath," is all Grey says before Cole answers his phone. He turns away,
      then, hands tightening into fists as he surveys the carnage.

Dominic acknowledges the parking command with a turn towards one of the
      sidestreets that head south rather than east. The Ford Ranchero pulls 
      towards a barely open spot on the sidewalk, with the kin leaving the 
      engine running as he listens to Alicia. "Christ." Again, he swears under 
      his breath.

Cole cocks his head, listening closely to hear the words over the racket. "Hey,
      Grey. Alicia's screaming her head off about us having to get out of here, 
      and how she has a ride. I think." The young Galliard looks frustrated, 
      shifting from foot to foot. "Gaia, this is a mess."

Nurses, doctors, firemen, and police all assist in performing first aid,
      getting the worst of the victims into ambulances, and getting the 
      ambulances underway. The police seem to be getting a handle on cutting 
      off non-essential traffic onto the street and have cleared a few 
      corridores for the ambulances to depart down. They're making way for 
      other ambulances to come in and have cleared a spot for a lifeflight 
      helicopter to land in the middle of the street outside the hospital. It's 
      still a chaotic scene on the ground, but order seems to be creeping 
      slowly in.

Alicia climbs out of the car and leaps onto the hood, talking once more into
      the phone, then hangs up, sliding it to her belt. She places a hand to 
      her head and scans the crowd, eyes narrowing.

Grey jerks his attention back to Cole. That muscle in his cheek tics again and
      his eyes are a little too wide, his body language stiff and deliberate. 
      "The city's going to go to /shit/," he rasps. "Mark my words." He turns 
      away, scanning the crowd away from what used to be the hospital.

"Hey hey watch the h-- fuckin--..." Dominic flares and dies, his anger
      overridden by sheer will as he exits his vehicle as well and checks the 
      hood first before following after the galliard.

Cole suddenly goes paler than usual, normally faint freckles standing out like
      ink spots on parchment. "Shit!" He flicks the phone shut, shoving it in 
      his pocket. "No arguments here!" He scans the crowd as well, pointing 
      when the figure hops up onto the car. "There she is!" He starts to move 
      toward where he last saw his fellow Galliard. His expression is as dark 
      as Grey's is neutral, betraying his distress and rising anger.

Waving her arms back and forth, Alicia impatiently continues to stand on the
      hood, glowering out into the distance. "C'mon.. geezus Christ people." 
      She murmurs, teeth gritting tightly together. "Dominic, get on your phone 
      and start calling people, Trent, Natalie, whatever, we're ganna need to 
      talk about this."

Grey, if the truth were to be told, is fairly upset and stressed himself, but
      as usual handles this by repressing it. Hard. He spares the burning chaos 
      another glance before striding off after Cole.

"Oh, like they aren't gonna see it when it flashes over the 10 o' clock news
      all over the nation," Dominic mutters back, somehow more sore about his 
      vehicle. Flipping his cellphone open, though, he starts to make calls if 
      he can get patched through. "An' just how many people are you plannin' to 
      stuff into /my car/?" He looks back to the classic, two-seater automobile.

"Should have thought of that before you offered to drive, my Mustang holds
      four." Alicia says with a snort as she eyes the kin for a moment fiercly, 
      then continues to look out into the crowd, finally spotting the pair 
      approaching. Hopping off the hood, she starts towards them swiftly.

Cole weaves his way through the frightened sea of humanity, closing in on the
      car and its occupants. "It's a fucking shitstorm, Alicia," he cries, 
      hands tightened into fists. "Gaia knows how many were just killed, and 
      what the hell this is all going to cause!" He closes the final distance, 
      grey eyes flashing between Gaian and the kinfolk.

Dominic curses again in vehement Spanish at the dent in his hood, and then some
      more at the lack of network availability he's getting on his cellphone. 
      Soon the kin is half in his backseat, hauling out junk from the back and 
      throwing it into the back bed. Spray paint cans, a spare tire... a 
      crowbar. "Fuckin' Oklahoma this shit is."

Grey is light-footed enough to have little trouble making his way through the
      tangle, and the aura of upset, vicious predator tends to make most people 
      shy away. He slows to a halt upon reaching the others. He takes one look 
      at Dominic's car -- specifically, the narrow space in the back -- and 
      shakes his head. "Thanks, but no," he says, looking up at Alicia. "I have 
      a feeling it'll be quicker on foot anyway."

"Well, it was the thought that counts, right?" Alicia says as she jerks a thumb
      to Dominic. "Hey kid, take off, we'll be in touch." She says, then after 
      a moment. "Thanks for the ride, I'll get my guitar from your place later. 
      Keep calling people, and spread the word as best you can." With that, she 
      turns to the pair, then motions with her head as she starts walking. "I'm 
      almost scared to ask what happened."

Almost as nothing more than a backdrop to the scene, the hospital continues to
      burn as firefighters futily spray jets of water onto it. Fortunately, it 
      doesn't look as if it is going to spread to the neighboring 
      buildings--due in large part to the parking lot that surrounds it. The 
      broken skeletal superstructure of the building becomes visible as the 
      shell burns and crumbles away. There seems to be a system for handling 
      the wounded that's coming to the forefront as rescue workers, given time, 
      get more organized. Police start ordering people further and further 
      back, though several news crews blatently ignore their requests and 
      wander among the injured and dead or attempt to get better close-up shots 
      of the burning building.

"Take off?" Dominic looks incredulously after having finished putting all the
      junk in his backseat into the pseudo truckbed. "Sonnuva mutherfu.." When 
      Grey comes into view, he cuts off and shakes his head, teethgrinding as 
      he gets back into the car. "Call me if you need a ride, still," he tells 
      the general group of Garou. The kin gets into the car, starting it up 
      with a loud rev of the engine that covers his cursing.

Cole presses onward, determined to free himself of the morass of witnesses. "An
      explosion of some sort," he answers, voice tense. "The place caught fire 
      and burned like a candle. People are dying left and right. Some of them 
      don't even look human any more!" All of this is said with great emphasis, 
      especially the mention of the victims. "It's horrible."

Grey falls into step at Alicia's other side, after giving Dominic another
      glance. "Completely destroyed," he says tightly, and adds a few choice 
      words in Serbian.

Flipping through the AM channels, Dominic hunts out a local radio station and
      listens in which he drives off again, leaving the group behind.

".. Well, alright, so it just suddenly caught fire?" Alicia says, trying her
      best to remain calm, despite trembling slightly. "Just... that was it, 
      boom? Fuck.." She hisses under her breath as she tugs her jacket about 
      her form tighter. "This is just going to make things worse. Did you guys 
      see anything out of the ordinary? Heard anything?" As the blocks tick by, 
      she seems to be moving towards the direction of the Montrose District as 
      she leads.

Cole takes the lead as they get closer to Birdseye territory. It's obvious that
      he's scanning the area carefully, looking for anything out of place. "I 
      was at the park when it happened. A thump that rumbled the air, and then 
      the alarms started. And sirens. By the time we got there, the fire had 
      started. Something ripped the entire third floor open. Shucked it like an 
      ear of corn. Pieces were falling. Some poor guy..." He trails off, voice 
      turning somber. "It was horrible," he concludes.

"I doubt it was an accident," Grey adds. He pauses before they reach Montrose
      and frowns. "I'm heading back to the safehouse." As if there can be no 
      debate about it, though he waits a tic before striding off.

"I have no doubt that it wasn't an accident. First the kids getting killed, and
      now this... some heavy shit is going down." Alicia says, then glances 
      over to Thomas. "I will be in touch, alright? Tell Nat to give me a call 
      Asap, I'm calling a Galliard moot." She rubs her chin and then squints 
      over to Cole. "A loud thump, huh? Like.. you think maybe a grenade 
      launcher or something?"

Grey inclines his head to the Fostern, glances just long enough at Cole to give
      the Fianna a nod as well, and then heads off in a different direction 
      than the pair.

Cole looks toward Grey and shakes his head briefly. "Yeah. Be safe, man." He
      looks back at Alicia. "The kids died from the poisoned soil," he says, 
      sounding shellshocked. "I think it could have been a bomb. Or an oxygen 
      tank going, or something." He gestures towards the direction of his 
      apartment building. "C'mon. I need a drink. Badly."

"I suppose we'll just have to burn the midnight oil and watch the news and see
      what comes up and what excuses are made." Alicia says as she follows 
      after, hands sliding into her pockets. She picks her phone out of her 
      pocket and starts to leave a message. ".. Hey Megan, its me, Ali', give 
      me a call soon as possible. Thanks." Click.

Like moths drawn to a flame, reporters swarm around the outskirts of the
      hospital. Some trying to interview firefighters and police, making a 
      right nuisance of themselves. Other walk around with cameras, or video 
      equipment. Val is one of those with a camera taking pictures, the long 
      lens allowing her to get close ups of the carnage. She stops briefly and 
      unloads a roll of film, quickly popping a spare roll into place. 
      *Snapsnap* goes the camera.