WHUMP. [Locked]

[definitivestep]

Despite the way things tend to explode every time Sam leaves wherever he happens to be living at the time, he does need to get out every now and then. He felt the need for a little fresh - if freezing - air, and so he's ventured out into the cold. The Tower doesn't seem to have any parkas in the closets, and he should probably look into that, but

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[weareshadows]

There's a giant yellow hummer careening down the street, oddly quiet for, you know, a giant yellow hummer careening down the street.

A number of questions could probably be asked at this point, such as "Why is the hummer so stealthy" and "Who needs a hummer in the middle of Chicago" and "Who needs a hummer that eye-searingly yellow" and "Did the owners just not learn their lesson after their last visit ended in a velociraptor to the windshieldNone of these questions will be resolved. Nor are they particularly important next to the fact of the matter: that fact being that they take a turn too hard, hit a patch of ice, and slip onto a trajectory which leads a large reverse-engineered military vehicle on a trajectory straight toward a pedestrian whose day is about to get dramatically worse

[definitivestep]

Sam would like to think that he is not actually any worse at observing basic traffic safety than any other person, that this is just stupid bad luck and possibly some higher power's vendetta against him.

That doesn't change the fact that a hummer just came skidding down the street toward him, faster than he could get out of the way, and smacked him with the rear side of a very large, fast-moving vehicle. Predictably, he goes flying. Lands with a far too familiar crunch of some bone (or possibly bones) breaking, and he doesn't have time to sort out just what broke or how badly, because a millisecond later his head cracks against the ground and there's just white pain exploding in his head.

Someone somewhere nearby may be calling 911. And Sam, were he able to think past the pain, may be hating his life just a little bit more than usual.

[riversodeep]

If there's one thing that can be said about Chicago hospitals and other 911 services, it's that when they haven't been paid off by anyone, they respond pretty quickly. Police arrive first to get people back off the scene, but an ambulance is there within four minutes, and out of that ambulance step to angels.

The taller one, a stubbled male on his second shift, moves up to Sam and brushes a bare finger across his cheek, just enough to feel the shock of pain attacking him on every analogous point. "No spinal damage," he remarks to his companion, carefully repositioning Sam on the street. "Sir, can you tell me your name?"

The smaller angel, a woman with tied-back reddish hair, is already checking Sam's heartrate and breathing, and then moves to check his eyes for dilation-

And doesn't get too far, because it abruptly feels as though she's been hit by a hummer.

The pain is so unexpected that she jerks back with a hiss, her companion catching her, even when it feels deeply, personally wrong to get away from this person even if she

[weareshadows]

The other angel's been a paramedic for long enough, and been called on enough supernatural weirdness, that he can pretty accurately pin a guardian angel in pain without even knowing that the person is a guardian in advance. As for Andy...

Okay, this is bad. Who the hell gets their ward on a job call, anyway? He might not know the ins and outs of guardianship, but for a Calling he's always considered to be a bad deal, this certainly SUCKS.

"Oookay," he says, stripping off one glove entirely, because there are certain things which are matters of basic math and he knows that having one person incapacitated by pain on the scene of an accident is twice as good as having two. "Let's play the old shuffle on this, Andy. And, uh, knock him out if he doesn't want to come on a trip back to the hospital for me."

Andy shoots him a dark look just before he lays his hand on the victim's neck, gritting his teeth as all the injuries drain into him.