CB's Grim Frequencies IC -- COMPLETE

[gribble]

T-dawg helps Marks to his feet and - more carrying than supporting him - props him up on D0's bed to recover while keeping a wary eye on Feral. He listens to Cyril and Garvey's conversation (at least Cyril's half) intently.

 

[Shayuri]

As much as Otter might ordinarily have enjoyed seeing a fight, right now there were bigger things on her mind. She heads into her room with T-Dawg and starts unplugging stuff as she mentally catalogs what she's putting in her go-bag and what's going to have to stay.

Oh, she wanted to stick around and see what kind of freaking sweet chaos was about to erupt, hell yeah. But she'd be ready to skitter off at a moment's notice in the process. There was a difference between appreciating a tornado tearing through a trailer park, and getting sucked up into the funnel cloud.

 

[Rubberneck]

J.R. follows Cyril and listens intently.

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Garvey picked up on the first ring. Like maybe she'd had her phone in her hand and was wondering what the hell, about to call him back. "Hello? What's this I hear about units called to the church?" Her voice was thick with sleep, but had an edge to it. She listened intently to Cyril for long moments, her end of the line silent as a tomb.

OOC: Go ahead and explicate whatever you want to tell her. I don't want to do a blow-by-blow phone call, but I want Cyril to go first, then I'll summarize Garvey's response.

 

[Rubberneck]

OOC: This is going to be good

 

[Forged Fury]

"Honestly?" Cyril responded, "You just need to get down here. Even I'm not good enough to persuade you of the truth of what just happened here. It involves a dead body, firearms discharging, and... well, you're not going to believe the last part until you see it so I am not even going to bother. Don't worry, we're all still alive. Oh wait, you wouldn't really care about that. Uh, Marks is still alive and the cops seem to be hopelessly confused at the moment, but they're out of our hair for the time being. Let me just put it this way, if you don't get over here ASAP, Otter's going to find your home address and we're going to bring the party to you."

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Garvey was silent for a long moment after Cyril finished. "I can be there in six hours but no sooner. I'll be coming from D.C. Don't leave the church. Don't contact the police. If they come to the church, let them in and answer their questions. I'll contact the Indy field office and have an agent come out to check on you. Put Marks on the line." Marks, however, was in no condition to talk. He'd yet to catch a breath and was lucky to still be able to gulp for air. Cyril declined to put him on the line, saying he was indisposed, which prompted a gruff "BS" from Garvey, but she let it go at that and hung up.

OOC: Everyone has 90 minutes to play with. Let me know what each of you does in that intervening 90 minutes.

 

[Rubberneck]

J.R. goes back to his cot and lays down, promptly putting an earbud into an ear and picks up his tablet. Shortly after Metallica can be heard softly from his corner of the church. Again he looks calm, but a close look would reveal there is a shake in his hands.

People, for the most part, were easy to read. Their intentions drivin by common interests, greed, religion, self preservation, etc... He could always understand his enemy. This monster however, was new, and unknown. Was it the only of its kind, or just the first in a line of monstrosities that have been unleashed on the world?

He shudders and rolls over.

 

[gribble]

After ensuring that Marks is ok and helping him back to bed, T-dawg also heads back to bed, still in something of a stupor. He figures that no-one is going to want to talk to him - at least until Garvey arrives - so he might as well try and get some shuteye... if he can manage to keep tentacles and Esmerelda's dead eyes out of this dreams.

 

[KirayaTiDrekan]

Feral wants to take a shower but doesn't want to go any where near the bathrooms in the batcave. He goes for a walk instead, heading toward a local gym. His pace is slow, his hands shoved in to the pockets of his hoodie and the hood up, covering his face. It was cold, but he didn't care. Cold made sense. Cold he could handle.