heavyhitter | IC CONTACT (futuro & prisma)

[ 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)

[ She leans back against the door and takes a second to scrub hands over her face. They don't have to tell anyone about anything. Anyone that goes missing — well, a lot of people are going missing right now. It's just one more body. And if she's found, there are about a hundred things that could've happened to her. Who's even going to have the time to open an investigation?

...But that's probably not going to fly with Sigma, and there's a tiny part in the corner of her mind suggesting that if that were her on the floor, she'd want a better end for herself.

Finally, with a breath out: ] Not Lucina. [ She's probably lovely, but Ramir prefers to stick with what she knows and trusts personally. ] Koltira. I'll call him.

[ Trust him, he's well aware everything is probably going too completely insane to ever open a proper investigation while they're around, but on top of the possibility the native police might nose their way in and become an unpredictable element, honesty is just... the best policy. ]

[ His turn for a breath, more of a groan when she rejects his idea, and it doesn't feel too much better when she replaces it with her own. It's the converse issue of trust now, a good friend versus an acquaintance at best, but it's definitely knee-jerk—Ramir should be choosing whoever she'd feel most comfortable telling after all. ]

Okay— Koltira, just... as long as you tell someone... [ He concedes, running fingers through his hair before letting his arms drop altogether. The twinge of relief her agreement had sparked in his chest is quick to flicker though. ] He's not the kinda guy that's gonna want you locked down for being dangerous, is he?

[ She doesn't even have to put any thought into it to shake her head. No, he's not the sort to want her locked down if she's dangerous — he's the one she asked to kill her. But she trusts his judgment as to when to put that request to action more than anyone else, and it's not going to be in question yet. ]

No, it's fine. I'm more worried he'll have no idea what kinda cop-paperwork goes into shit like this.

[ And she glances to the side, unconsciously touching the studded bracelet on one wrist as she activates a network connection for a quick conversation. ]

[ Well, probably for the best she's kept that to herself. ]

Yeah, fair. [ The guy was way too ye olde knight-y to know what a taser was. Granted they'dve had the same paperwork issue with Lucina, so. Why did all the medievals go into law enforcement... ]

[ As she falls silent for a separate conversation, Sigma falls back to staring arms-crossed down at the body. It's either this or pacing wildly, and she's dead (fuck) center of the best path in the house, so stock still it is. His head had begun to ache over the past few minutes, and hardly in a productive way. Probably just a side effect of the sharp stiffness in his neck. Carefully, he rubs away an itch at the edge of the tape and gauze, letting his head hang slightly in an effort to stretch. ]

[ Whenever she seems to come back to her senses, his eyes immediately dart for her. ]

You good? [ As in, everything taken care of? Because if she's done, he's not going to waste time squaring up to her and taking her by the arms. Almost as if to brace himself, considering how the next question bursts out as if it's been pent up like scalding steam for the past twenty minutes, ] Are you okay?

[ His first question gets a faint nod. She can count on Koltira, she trusts that. The second one takes a little more thought, though. She leans into him, head tipped to lean against his chest as she considers it. Is she okay? ]

I could be worse, [ Is the eventual conclusion.

It was self defense, just like she'd told Koltira. The woman wouldn't have been here in her right mind, and wouldn't have wanted to hurt them — but this situation doesn't account for wouldn't haves anymore. Her arms thread slowly around Sigma, resting with fingers hooked around each other at the small of his back. ]

I keep wondering what Jolanda would do. [ And with a little breath of a laugh: ] She'd be a whole lot smoother about everything, I know that much.

[ That's barely an answer, but he'll take it for starters. When she leans in, he immediately envelops her in a hug, one hand rested at the base of her neck to hold her close. As she goes on, however, he can't help a weighty sigh, nor can he help slumping to prop his chin on her head. ]

Yeah, with her like... forty years of experience she's got on you.

[ He's heard plenty of praise sung for her grandmother, and he'd never doubted that she was an incredible woman for a second, but WWJD isn't a fix-all solution for everything in the here and now. ]

Ramir, I think I've lost track of how many times I've thought about my old ass and what he'd be doing right now, and every time I come up with that... he'd have this virus figured out in a month with his hands blown off, but that isn't me. Whatever he'd do, I don't... have the stuff to do it.

[ Tangent. He leans a little to better peek down at her propped against him. ]

She left you with all she could. You're not gonna get textbook answers if all you have are the cliffnotes, so all we can do now is just... wing it with all we've got, okay? We'll figure it out.

[ She can feel that peek down, but she doesn't look up. Not right away, anyway. She listens quietly, and eventually her huffed laugh makes a stronger return. ]

That's the nerdiest fucking analogy, Sigma...

[ But she gets it, and he's not wrong. The fact is that Jolanda isn't here; this is something for Ramir to handle. Well, Ramir, with Sigma's help. And Koltira's, inevitably. She turns her head to press her face directly into shirt for a moment, tightens her hold, and finally releases when she leans back to meet his eyes. Her smile is small and crooked, but in place. ]

No, I get it. Thanks. [ The smile fades out again. ] You know I had to though, right? And I'd do it again if the alternative was letting her chew on you.

Whatever, it worked didn't it?

[ He pulls a face, even if she doesn't look up to see it right away. But when she does, her brief little smile smooths it out like an iron, just as brief before draining into something morose. There's nothing more than a matter of personal investment separating his life from the woman's in terms of importance; had the roles been switched, if Ramir could ever be put in such casual danger, he would have undoubtedly done the same, but... dwelling on it twists his stomach into knots. ]

Yeah. [ It stays short. Not unappreciative by any means, just... when thoughts stick around long enough to turn into what ifs, what ifs are like hives when your brain is supposed to be on the same highway as a million other possibilities. ]

Maybe if I'd just seen it coming, y'know, you wouldn'tve had to at all...

IC CONTACT (futuro & prisma)

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