heavyhitter | IC CONTACT (futuro & prisma)

[ He's been teetering on the fence since the mission had really started to fall apart. In the beginning, it had been easy to keep cycling through every zombie movie imaginable and focus on that, but the way things kept creeping in closer and more personal... It's too real. It's high time to fly a horse. ]

Pegasus! If they have those stupid unicorns, they've gotta have some pegasuses... Pegasi? ... You even know how to ride a normal horse? 'Cause I sure don't.

[ That's gonna make things interesting. His head twitches in a halfhearted sort of effort to glance over at the door, at the sound of a thud from out in the hall toward the entryway. Probably Fugo being home now. It's a little hard to get into the place these days, and the guy hasn't been terribly fond of the idea. ]

That reminds me, do they have Disney movies in the future?

[ Ramir doesn't miss that thump, and it strikes her as a little unusual. Giorno's still on that mission, she's pretty sure, and Fugo is a pretty deliberate guy. He doesn't go stumbling around. She's quiet for a few seconds, distracted, before she finally shakes her head. He probably just shut the door too loud. ]

No, but I rode some in —

[ Another thump, louder, and now she's frowning. Maybe he's having trouble with something out there. She sighs and drags herself to the edge of the bed to stand up. ]

Fugo's breaking shit out there. Let's put him in timeout in the kitchen so he can still make dinner for us.

[ Alright, fine. Two loud thumps is enough for suspicion to kick in; if quiet Fugo isn't somehow blind drunk and bumping around like it sounds, he could probably use some help. With a low, incoherent grumble of assent, Sigma rolls to the opposite edge and hops up with a bit more energy, moving to the door with a bit more initiative. If he's the one that still feels alright, he can be the one to dish out the real what-fors. ]

Hey, Fugo, you alright out here buddy? You need a hand or—

[ Only a couple steps out into the hall make it painfully obvious that the front door is hanging wide open, and the thought of maybe he's got something heavy is quashed about a half second later by a distinctly un-Fugo-shaped figure lurching back out from the kitchen where it seems to have just ducked into. ]

[ And another half second of stand-off passes before the figure lets out a snarl and darts toward the intruder upon his intrusion. ]

Hey— Hey! [ Now that he's sick too, there's significantly less thought put into lunging forward; now Sigma's just tackling the sunken-eyed burglar and wrenching him into the best headlock he can muster. ] The fuck, dude, get out!

[ Who knows how many more of them had crept in between those thumps. Not this guy. ]

[ Ramir doesn't take much notice of anything unusual — until Sigma's first hey. There's a tone in it that immediately alerts her, makes her forget that whatever it is out there probably isn't actually much of a threat to her.

She's pissed as soon as she skids into the hallway and sees it's not a what, it's a who. And yeah, she can tell right away that he's infected, but goddamn. In her own (rented) house? Who gave this guy the right? Her anger flares hot and fast, and the thought that she shouldn't be this pissed gets quickly muffled. ]

Just pin him, I'll get him from there.

[ She'll deal with the door — or anyone else that might have crept in — in a moment. Currently all she can focus on is this guy, and it's gonna be a struggle to just gently chuck him out. ]

[ The guy isn't much put next to Sigma, but he's definitely lost all sense of restraint to the virus. As soon as Ramir barges up, he shuffles obediently, dragging the struggling man back toward the wall and slamming him less than delicately against it. ]

Yeah, here... [ Shifting his grip, he lets the arm unhook from around the guy's throat to wedge against the back of his neck instead, letting his weight do the pinning. ] All yours.

[ Intruder secured, he chances a glance at Ramir up beside him. There's a definite glint in her eye that hadn't been there a minute ago, brow creased, lips so close to pulling into a full on snarl. All that cuddling down the drain in a snap... ]

Just... remember to go easy, alright? [ It's irritated as hell at the circumstances, sure, but it still manages to come out a touch careful and soft. He's just a sick person... He can't help it as much as she still can, right? ]

[ Ramir advances steadily, and her pace falters only slightly at Sigma's reminder. That's right. She's got to keep that in mind — this is just a guy, in his right mind he wouldn't want to be here any more than she wants him here. She pauses just long enough to nod and brush a hand against Sigma's back: a little suggestion of a hug, a brief contact. It's okay. She's got this.

She wrestles the guy's hands pretty easily together and clamps a hand around his wrists. As soon as Sigma lets up she'll shift in to take his place, her free hand grabbing the hair at the back of the guy's head to jerk him around and back toward the door. See? It's pretty peaceable. She can totally do this.

Ramir enforces their march very sternly back down the hall, toward the open front door. And when movement lurches from the dining room, it isn't until after she's passed it. The fact that this isn't their only unwelcome guest escapes her entirely. ]

[ The small reassurance is all he needs, that she's still all there enough for such gentle gestures. Her movements to grab the man are firmer, but necessarily so, and Sigma pulls back easily once she's got him secured. He doesn't pull back far, still hovering close as she makes her way back toward the door, just in case, but close enough to likewise miss that movement from the dining room until it's pounding up the hall and catapulting itself onto his back. ]

What the sh- [ Stumbling forward and roughly, helplessly shouldering Ramir and her charge, he tips and struggles on his feet, to correct his balance as much as to get this thing the fuck off. But though the sudden surprise weight is lighter and the limbs thinner on this one, the bony fingers dig like incessant, furious talons into his clothes. There's barely a second allotted for a proper startled curse, and then a blunt, crushing, white hot pain gouges into the crook of his neck. ]

[ It forces out a scream, half-winded half-choked as he staggers and squirms in an effort to remain upright, hands blindly scrabbling at the infected tearing teeth-first into his flesh. ]

[ She's already starting to turn at his initial reaction, but then that scream freezes her blood solid. Her heart skips a few beats — but not enough to keep her from moving. She's moving before she's even decided what she's going to do, actually.

Her angry prize is dragged back with her as she flings herself toward Sigma and, god, there's another one? The anger is back, twice as loud this time and white hot, all-encompassing. She leaves one hand clamped on the first intruder, the one firm at his wrists, and frees up the other to reach past Sigma's freely bleeding shoulder, straight into the face of the infected on his back. Her face is set firm and brutal as she gets her palm on the woman's face and shoves back hard. Too hard. She both feels and hears a snap, and the body tumbles without further resistance while Ramir's snags Sigma's shoulder to stop him from toppling over with it.

The first intruder struggles frantically behind her, twisting around to try and bite, throw himself at her — which goes completely ignored. Her anger has dimmed slightly, knowing the inevitable like she does, but it's still roiling. She throws that free arm around Sigma fully to pull him forward and away from the form on the floor, leaning her forehead against his chest for just a moment as she does. A second to still her furiously pounding heart, to darken some of the red starting to seep in around the edges of her vision. ]

Are you okay?

[ With his eyes screwed shut against the pain, the fractions of seconds following glitch by in a whirl. His own breath loud in his ears, it makes the growling over his shoulder, the jerking and snapping and limp slipping of limbs from around his neck, all feel underwater. The raw jab in his shoulder from being jostled and yanked forward is enough to buoy his head above the waves and register Ramir bundling him into her arms. ]

[ Well, arm. Burying herself against him in an effort to ease the vicious tension winding itself into every inch of her. He slings the arm that doesn't feel half numb with shock around her and hugs her close. ]

Yeah, fine. I'm fine. [ Grit through his teeth in a distinctly not-fine fashion, but they've got bigger things to worry about. If he keeps those blinders on it isn't so bad. ]

[ (It's bleeding pretty bad. Someone's probably dead.) ]

You got— [ After her second, he nudges her head with his chin in a halfhearted effort to get her to turn around. ] You still got that, I can look the other way this time.

[ He might not be fine, but he's fine enough to lie about it. She'll take that for now. She takes a breath, steals just three seconds more, and steps away to turn back to her original captive. ]

Make sure she's down and there's no one else inside.

[ Because he's right, she's still got that. And this isn't the time for anything except making sure they're as secure in here as they should be — everything else comes second.

She forces the infected man toward the door, shoves him down off of the porch and into the street, and throws him about five feet for good measure. She slams the door between them while he's still struggling back up to his feet. ]

Yeah.

[ He gives her a parting pat on the shoulder as she pulls back and turns, meanwhile he busies himself with just that. Backing off further into the house, he pauses briefly over the woman sprawled over the threshold of the dining room. She seems to be quite limp, but more on that later. ]

[ Sigma moves quickly, leaning past her to give the room a once-over before bounding one way to case the kitchen and living room, the other to check the bath- and bedrooms, in closets, behind doors, fast but thorough. Including a glance back with each switch of location to make sure the figure in the main hall is still motionless. ]

[ Once he's back and Ramir is back, he pauses over the woman again. Somehow it's easier to keep his eyes on her bloodied, slightly parted lips than it is his bloodied, very parted shoulder. ]

You wanna hold her while I check her out? I don't want her to spring up and get me again, I've already committed one too many cardinal zombie movie sins today...

[ Ramir stares down at the woman — in particular at the way her head lays on the ground. It doesn't look like an unnatural angle, but it doesn't look like the way someone would decide to sprawl comfortably for a nap. It's too twisted for that. The woman looks ragged, like she hasn't been indoors in a week or so, and Ramir feels another little twinge of anger, blocking out any sympathy she might've felt instead. ]

She's bottom priority. [ She says it decisively, hard with brusque irritation, although she still does crouch to drop one knee on her chest , one hand on both of hers, and the other pinning her forehead. She can at least do that. ]

If she's not dead I'm locking her in the bathroom until we get your neck looked at.

[ And if she is dead... Ramir will figure it out from there. ]

[ Maybe the lips are an equally good distraction from her neck, too. Crouching beside her, he glances up at the cut of Ramir's tone. Understandably harsh and sickly angry, but there's something uncomfortably short about it that strokes his nerves the wrong way, sticking up their nervous metaphorical fur at all sorts of weird angles. Nevertheless, while she's got the woman pinned, ]

Yeah, I know, just... Gimme a second.

[ Now it's hard not to focus on the neck, pressing fingers into the side of it in search of a pulse... Then shifting the fingers a little. Then turning her head (just a little too easily) to try the other side as if it might help. Leaning in, he puts an ear close to her mouth in case the sensors in his fingers have just... decided to stop working or something, halfway hoping at this point that she'd find it in her to lean up and bite it off too. ]

[ Because she came into their home, ripped off a chunk of him, sure, but it isn't her. She's still just a person. A sick, insane, mindless human being, well past accountability and maybe way past help, but she's... not something that deserves to be was. No more is it Ramir's fault than hers for being here, there's not even an emotion that can be applied to this, this is just... Where they're at now. ]

[ Drawing away, Sigma shakes his head, sitting back on his haunches before all the tension seems to drain out of him and slump him back to a seat on the floor. ]

She's dead.

[ The pronouncement isn't really news. Ramir had watched Sigma check for signs of life impassively, without hope, and she nods as he gives the result. This moment isn't going to matter much if things really go to shit. If she loses her mind like this woman had, she sure won't care who she's killed — or who she's killing. She'd only deserve to be brought down, like she'd done to this intruder.

But if they ever do find out the cure for this crap, someone's wife, daughter, cousin, girlfriend... isn't coming home to get it.

She stares at the body for no more than three seconds, then releases her hold and stands up, tugging at Sigma's wrist to have him follow along with and into the bathroom with her. ]

Your neck, then we redo the front door. Then I'll figure out what to do with her. [ She says it low, mostly to herself, making a mental list. That last step is going to be a doozy, but it's not time to work on it yet. ]

[ He lets her drag him up and along without much effort, although it does take him a tug to turn away from the lifeless form. With all the dead bodies he's seen, god almighty it should never get any easier, that would be even more terrifying, but he can never help wondering if it ever gets any less... bone-chillingly cold. It's worse than novocaine, numbing every thought that comes and goes. ]

[ She's doing it again—she hasn't shut out, but she's shutting down, automatic gestures, making lists. Whatever it takes to get from point A to point B. And for right now, it's probably what they need; he'll drift along without argument, save for, ]

We'll figure out what to do with her... [ It's about the firmest thing he's said since he'd screamed bloody murder, and it'd stay that way. Reaching the bathroom, he shrugs gingerly, wincingly out of his shirt to lay the damage bare. The last of a couple of fingernail scratches that had torn through the fabric are fading into angry red blushes across the front of his chest and throat, but even though the bitemark seems to have mostly stemmed itself by now, his kindly bestowed baby wolverine factor is struggling to comprehend this big of a tear. Some use it is. He'll never be Hugh Jackman at this rate. ]

We got stuff, right? I don't think we've really touched it... [ Mumbled in a half-assed attempt to sound decisive, reaching to tug open one of the little cabinets over the sink in search of first aid. ]

[ That firm line manages to cut through her businesslike distraction, and with a sigh, she concedes: ] We'll figure it out.

[ It's a relief that he's willing to help even with that part, if she stops to think about it. But that will come later. She hops up onto the bathroom counter for a little height, and studies the gash with increasing dismay. If his insistence on helping had jogged her the first part out of her efficiency mode, her usual squeamishness beginning to trickle back in does the rest.

(Some part of her is grateful she's still squeamish about it, rather than, say, hungry.) ]

Yeah, we got some. Fugo made sure, I think. [ She leans past him to root around as well, and is rewarded by the white rectangle of a 1990s first aid kit. ] Wash it out, I'll take it from there.

[ So long as she agrees. He isn't even remotely sure what they're going to do, but so long as Fugo doesn't come in and trip over the body, they've got some time. Once she's settled with the first aid kit, he nods, leaning over to scrub his hands in the sink and wait for the water to warm up. Once it feels as comfortable as it's going to get, he cups some to splash over the bite, flinching as it hits open flesh. ]

[ He repeats the gesture a bit more stoically, but as soon as he makes an effort to rub the half-dried blood away from the edges of the wound, his shoulders hunch and tense over the sink, a long breath forcing its way out through his nose. ]

This is like— the opposite of tickling yourself. How's it hurt so much worse when you can see your own hand doing it... I should just jump in the shower at this rate, just— beat it all off and get it over with, I'm already soaked...

[ The words amble out, punctuated by the odd painful hitch as he rinses, his own personal distraction from the stinging discomfort yowling in his neck. Eventually he straightens up, most of the red scrubbed off his shoulder and neck, the bite itself clean as it's gonna get with blood still stubbornly beading at its deepest. ]

[ Tugging a towel off one of the racks behind to dry his hands and chest, ] Alright, your turn...

[ She shifts around as he works, sliding an arm around his waist for a little moral support. And, well, snagging another dose of oxytocin. She's back in place on the counter again as he finishes, and she eyes the deep gouge unhappily. ]

I really never thought I'd be happy you're already infected.

[ Because man, that sure would have done it. Her eyes find his again, and it's readily apparent she's softening again. Which is unfortunate, because she's really going to need that hardness to tackle the final step to cleaning up after this whole mess. She sighs, takes a second to lean in and steal a quick kiss, then turns her attention down to the medkit.

It's so retro that it takes her a few seconds to identify everything. The disinfectant is just a simple gel, ridiculously easy to just rub off, but — well, you work with what you've got. She readies one of the gauze pads with it, presses it carefully into place with minimal wincing, and goes next for the surgical tape. It's a pretty quick process, at least. ]

Yeah, kinda takes the insult out of the injury, at least...

[ He returns the kiss, grateful for all the fight that has left her eyes in the past few minutes. They aren't out of the woods yet, but at least she's still easy to cool down... Not much thought has been put into the future and how to cope with her, honestly; currently the game plan has just been more of the same. As long as the rest of them can still whip up a cure, he'd lie in bed with her dawn to dusk and back if it kept her sane. ]

[ Which isn't a long-term solution, but it's all he's got. One day at a time. ]

[ His eyes follow her as she works with the no-doubt ancient artifacts in the kit, and when she tapes the gauze into place, he can't help a little squirm where he stands as the disinfectant stings some more, but he holds his ground. Once she's got it all taped up, Sigma doesn't hesitate to scoot in and put his arms around her, let her rest her chin on the good shoulder, get her head as good and cleared as they can with a proper hug. ]

Thanks, [ mumbled against her ear before he pulls back to cup her face in his hands, concealer be damned, ] Front door next?

[ Moving along her list. Once they finish hers, they'll start with his. ]

[ She's happy to take the few seconds she can get once he's bound up as well as she can manage, and loops both arms lazily around his waist. He smells good, with her cheek leaned against his (good) shoulder and nose at his neck. He always smells good, even now. It's with some reluctance that she lets him draw away, and sighs from the frame of his hands. ]

Yeah. Let's see how those assholes got in.

[ Back to it. She pulls away and starts down the hall, stepping over the body carefully on the way. And once at the door, it's apparent: a crucial board had been pried off. She makes a face and skips the need for a hammer, just pressing each nail into a new hole with a thumb. ]

We're gonna need one more. Is there anything lying around still?

[ He doesn't skip a beat, falling in step behind her on her way back to the door to survey the damages. For what they've got left to work with, it isn't a good estimate. ]

Nnnot really... [ Mumbled as he glances around behind them, eyes glazing over the body still sprawled smack in the middle of the apartment. They really should... move her... Steeling himself, he steps past her for the second time in as many minutes. ]

We kinda went all out the first time, so unless we wanna start ripping out the floorboards... Maybe there's some plywood in the couch or something.

[ He makes his way to the living room and yanks off the seat cushions. Jackpot. Shame about the couch, though, but they've all still got beds. ]

Yeah- You wanna come take this apart?

[ She steps back in, pulling the door shut behind her, and aims a mournful look at the couch. They had some good times on that couch. Movies watched, etc. But, with a sigh, she nods. ]

Yeah, I'm on it. Grab me a couple nails?

[ Rest in peace, couch. And rest in pieces, too -- she pulls it apart like the whole thing is Styrofoam, and in just a minute or so she's worked out a board about the right size that she needs. The rest of the couch lays in its shallow grave in the corner of the room, ranked even lower priority than the other body, while Ramir steps back outside to finish off the door's reinforcement. ]

[ Well, at least they've still got the cushions for a blanket fort. Everything just keeps getting a little more like camping as time goes on, doesn't it? A quiet, baleful sort of laugh escapes him. ]

Maybe if it gets bad enough out there, we can give it a viking funeral if not enough stuff is on fire.

[ The couch. While she goes to town on it, Sigma digs through the last of their meager building supplies for a handful of nails and screws. They'd probably do too, if they're long enough. He'll eventually follow her back out to the door and pass them along. ]

What'd they even bust in here for, anyway? Do we really look that special?

[ There's a reply forming that she knows better than to let out -- something about who knows, by the time she understands the thought process she won't be able to clue him in on it. So she keeps quiet under the guise of being busy with the door, once again substituting a thumb for a hammer. Good enough.

Her eyes finally fall on the small, bloody elephant in the room as she steps in, door swinging shut behind her. ]

Okay. [ A few spare nails and the remaining chunk of couch-board she didn't need are set on a shelf next to the door. ] Now that. I'm really not feeling calling the cops about it.

[ Cops and her circles don't typically get along that well. She rubs a hand through her hair, sighing. ]

...Unless it's one of ours on the force, I guess. A good one.

[ Her silence doesn't bother him, but it does just give him a longer moment to contemplate the last item on her list. Their list. Now that they actually have to face it, it's starting to feel properly heavy, like a dense, frozen lead weight in the pit of his stomach. He folds his arms instinctively against the mental chill, likewise taking a measured breath before starting in on this, ]

Ramir, we have to tell someone about this, [ Wow that still comes out a little more shaky than he'd wanted it. He swallows, tries again. ] If we don't and she gets found, that's gonna be a whole new mess even if it was an accident, and if she doesn't, then... then, she just goes missing.

[ And no one deserves that, period. He mulls in silence for a second, biting his lip. ]

We can tell one of-- We can tell Lucina. She's good. She'd understand better than any of them...

Edited (botches entire phrases while tagging at work I guess) 2017-03-14 00:11 (UTC)

IC CONTACT (futuro & prisma)

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