(no subject)
WHO: Anyone and everyone.
WHERE: 48th Street and Astoria. Or at least, what's left of it.
WHEN: Wednesday 9AM. 2010.
WARNINGS: Gruesome detail.
SUMMARY: The Gotham Refining Chemical Group HQ has exploded, due to mysterious circumstances. Candidate Geraldo Bendis is dead, along with sixty-two other people. There are casualties littered about the streets, sirens screaming and fires fuming.
FORMAT: Tag in as you please with paragraph or quickpara. This is a heroic free-for-all, but team organization could streamline events.
The morning air was tinged with soot and sulfur, the smell of mortar and flesh burning. People in nearby blocks were fleeing the scene, seeking instinctual safety from the hot chaos. The explosion had blown up and outwards, clearing the bricks and plaster of the building. Charred bodied paved the ground like gravel, the combusted chemicals once stored sizzled in the air and choked unwary onlookers. What was the ceiling of a block-long building was now nothing more than shattered and far-flung pebbles, scalded bits of wood and paint.
People were screaming. Those who hadn't fried on impact, those lucky souls along the block, crawled with what limbs they had left and abandoned the rest. Sizzled flesh, broken bodies. Fires roaring, catching onto other buildings, clinging to nearby flammable material. The thick, black smoke clogged every breath, choking every scream.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
A woman in a pale blue business suit snarled up blood, hacking and holding at her stomach as fluids oozed out.
A severed leg was along its owner, gnarled and crisp. He clutched at it, sobbing.
The cameras of a swift media station bolted on scene, their films rollings.
All the while the sun was shining, high and bright, staring down happily.
WHERE: 48th Street and Astoria. Or at least, what's left of it.
WHEN: Wednesday 9AM. 2010.
WARNINGS: Gruesome detail.
SUMMARY: The Gotham Refining Chemical Group HQ has exploded, due to mysterious circumstances. Candidate Geraldo Bendis is dead, along with sixty-two other people. There are casualties littered about the streets, sirens screaming and fires fuming.
FORMAT: Tag in as you please with paragraph or quickpara. This is a heroic free-for-all, but team organization could streamline events.
The morning air was tinged with soot and sulfur, the smell of mortar and flesh burning. People in nearby blocks were fleeing the scene, seeking instinctual safety from the hot chaos. The explosion had blown up and outwards, clearing the bricks and plaster of the building. Charred bodied paved the ground like gravel, the combusted chemicals once stored sizzled in the air and choked unwary onlookers. What was the ceiling of a block-long building was now nothing more than shattered and far-flung pebbles, scalded bits of wood and paint.
People were screaming. Those who hadn't fried on impact, those lucky souls along the block, crawled with what limbs they had left and abandoned the rest. Sizzled flesh, broken bodies. Fires roaring, catching onto other buildings, clinging to nearby flammable material. The thick, black smoke clogged every breath, choking every scream.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
A woman in a pale blue business suit snarled up blood, hacking and holding at her stomach as fluids oozed out.
A severed leg was along its owner, gnarled and crisp. He clutched at it, sobbing.
The cameras of a swift media station bolted on scene, their films rollings.
All the while the sun was shining, high and bright, staring down happily.