[IN PROGRESS/OPEN]

[dancewithadevil]

WHO: Alucard/toothsomehound, Usopp/longnosedliar, Sam Vimes/stonyfaced, Jessica Sanders/DIVIDEDSANITY, Otacon/justlikeoneofmy, Lauren Reed/dancewithadevil, Ken/artiglio, Zoro/resolute_edge, AND - anyone else who would like to be trapped is welcome to join!
WHAT: BOOM.
WHERE: Guilty Pleasures.
WHEN: Evening.

Comments

[stonyfaced]

Vimes watched as the guy...walked straight through the fallen wood, which was most probably full of splinters and nails and other such unpleasant things. He called the woman slung over his shoulder "My Master," and it made him recoil in disgust. The man was a genetic mutation whatever, probably. Couldn't stand the things. And really, right through the debris? Really?

Please do try to keep up, Mr. Vimes.

Feeling as if he was being treated as some sort of insolent child trailing behind (which he damn well wasn't), he didn't dignify that with a response, merely kept at his attempts of bashing wood off to the side. He was prideful, yes, stupid, no. Pride wasn't enough to make him run headfirst into a pile of pointy objects.

Usually, cops were presented in a more positive light in these occasions. In movies, and all that rubbish. You know, copper trapped, leads people to safety, people are redeemed, he gets a shiny medal, the dog gets a bone, the people yell, hurrah for the copper! Hurrah! Oh well. Vimes didn't much like medals anyways, and was all too happy to follow somebody else if it meant getting the hell out of there.

Through the doorway! Let there be light! Let there be grass! Let there be... stairs. Damn! Damn damn damn damn damn! Vimes took a step and plunged his foot straight through a stair, gaining a few nasty splinters he somehow managed to avoid getting in there. "Careful," he warned, and with that, climbed up the stairs and cautiously pushed the door open.

Another room full of debris and a small fire in the corner. Splendid.

[damnabletart]

If Integral had been a bit more coherent, she probably would have suggested leaving the arrogant policeman behind to fumble about on his own, and see how much good it did him. Right now, however, she was not terribly coherent. She just wanted to get out of here.

"Kitchen or front door. Fire escape."

[toothsomehound]

Alucard sighed deeply, looking up the stairs at the man that they had been saddled with. What a thickheaded idiot. That thought echoing in his skull, he lightly padded his way up the stairs. He had Integral on his back- he couldn't afford to fall. When he arrived at the top of the stairs, he gently pushed past Vimes, eyes picking out the swirl of smoke escaping out some kind of crack. Sure enough- he drew close and saw it was a door.

"Here," he reached forwards and tested the handle briefly. It was cool, which meant that there was no fire on the other side. A boon indeed. Pushing it opened with a forceful kick, he took a deep breath of fresh air. Ah, ah. Heaven. "Do try not to die now that we have managed to escape," Alucard tossed out, fixing their guest with a piercing stare. "And good night."

He stepped away at a brisk trot, following Integral's exhausted arm as she pointed the way.

[stonyfaced]

Vimes stared at Alucard's retreating back with a note of distaste. Definitely somebody he didn't like. Arrogant bastard. Then, tilting his face up to face the cool air of the outdoors, he found himself thinking that while the man was a bloody bastard, at least he had helped thoroughly in the preservation of Vimes' life, which was most definitely a good thing.

Staring at the remnants of the building and people milling about, he sighed and ran his hand through his now bloodied hair. He hated blood. It always took forever to wash out, and it stuck like nothing else. Walking quickly, he decided to first go home and write up a report (damn reports!) up on this to figure out exactly what had happened here and to sleep.

And maybe to see what he could find on this Alucard fellow. You never knew, and Vimes didn't trust many who would voluntarily step into an establishment named Guilty Pleasures. (It was nearly as bad as that one mixed drink he saw on a menu once called the Screaming Orgasm. Had people no subtlety?)