CB's Grim Frequencies IC -- COMPLETE

[gribble]

Once T-dawg has finished helping Marks with Esmerelda, he confirms he doesn't need any more assistance and if not proceeds to help J.R. with moving the thing. At least if that remains the plan... The whole time, he seems to be acting in some sort of Zombie-like state of shock, replaying the whole thing over and over in his head, and standing mutely starting off into the distance when not following orders. He certainly isn't taking charge or seeming capable of any sort of initiative on his own.

 

[CanadienneBacon]

OOC: Re-stating what's happened in the last few seconds. Cyril stowed his gun and got to work cleaning the kitchen. Marks and T-dawg moved Esmeralda to an office with a table. T-dawg returned to the kitchen, Marks did not. Otter is standing around gabbing, as is Feral. J.R. started dragging the thrall to the basement stairs, but he couldn't lift it on his own. Once T-dawg finished helping Marks with Esmeralda, he helped J.R. get the thrall to the basement. There was a blood streak part of the way down the hall. You have about one minute's worth of actions you may declare before the cops arrive.

The kitchen was a hot mess. Cyril ignored the spray of broken plates and the mess of food on the floor and focused instead on getting out the mop and bucket. He filled the bucket with hot water and bleach--that took about half a minute. Then he got to work swapping the spot where Esmeralda had mucked up the floor--another thirty seconds. He dumped the bucket of bloody slimy water down the kitchen sink, and left the water running to flush the residue. Next, he shoved the unrinsed mop back in the commercial grade bucket put both inside a storage closet. The whole job was hasty but got the worst of the evidence visible the window or from an officer's plain view out of the way. The kitchen counters and floor remained a mess, but at least the blood and gore were gone.

Moments later, there was a knock somewhere from the front of the building. The front doors, probably. Not that any of you had ever used them. Five seconds later, a second loud knock was heard, followed by, "Metro police." Cyril recognized the standard knock-and-announce. An investigation, then. Two seconds after the second knock, everyone saw a pair of flashing lightbars exude that singularly epileptic blend of blue and red flashing lights through the kitchen and fellowship windows. No one, however, knocked at the back door to the fellowship hall. The cops in the cars out there in the lot must've decided to stay put.

 

[KirayaTiDrekan]

Feral decides to accompany Otter to the door, not that he knew what to say, but he figured someone had to reign her in a bit.

 

[gribble]

Unless someone orders him otherwise, T-dawg sits numbly in the basement, minding the leftovers...

 

[Rubberneck]

In the minute before the cops come in J.R. hands the gun to T, since he appeared to be staying in the basement,

"Hide it, I dun have time to."

He'll try and clean up the hall as best as possible, hoping Otter and Feral could stall the cops at the door.

 

[Shayuri]

Otter gives her gun to JR and heads to the door. It's a bad idea, she knows...but meh. What was the worst that could happen?

She opened the front door to the church and looked up at the officer, then past them out at the cars flashing, then back up.

"Something I can help you with, officers?" Otter asked, choking back her stuff-eating grin by sheer force of will for the moment. The absurdity was too brilliant to resist for long.

 

[gribble]

T-dawg mutely takes the gun from JR and unthinkingly stuffs it in the back of his pants.

 

[Rubberneck]

J.R. accepts the gun with a frown,

"Damnit."

J.R. hauls ass to the kitchen and chucks the gun in the freezer.

 

[Rubberneck]

OOC: Musical Guns anyone? Or Hot Potato? Lol

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Otter opened the door, Feral in tow, to find two uniformed Indianapolis Metro Police officers standing outside the church vestibule. It was cold today, and it was dark--nighttime. The foremost officer flashed his badge. Otter's photographic memory took in the number--the badge was silver and bore the number 1509. The policeman was male, short, sported a winter knit cap instead of the usual hat (no surprise, given today's weather), and had café au lait skin and brown eyes. Otter spied well-developed thighs and a trim waist under the man's thick Navy blue IMPD coat. His partner, another man, but white and skinny, stayed a step back, eyeing Otter carefully. The foremost cop coughed, emphasizing the cold air. "Evening, ma'am. Officer Jenks." He held up his badge closer to Otter, so she could plainly identify it. "Gunshots reported from this location. Is anyone hurt?" Both officers seemed tense.