Leave tomorrow, live tonight. Gotta throw your heart right in cause we all fall [Locked]

[wholelota_angel]

Ariel is happy to be doing Guardian Angel things, again. She hates owning a hotel and all of the business that goes with it. It keeps her from doing what she was made to do, what she actually feels accomplished with. She has a ward. She has a real purpose and reason in her life, again, that was more fulfilling than all of the rights movements she

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[sarkraticmethod]

Sark considers the question, considers the definition of 'trouble', considers whether or not he wants to explain in great detail that he has a hard time coping with this life he's trying to live and how every bloody day is a struggle not to fall back into his old habits. Oh and those people who were stalking him back at the blues club gave him a girl. A demon girl. That he had sex with.

Also there's a hallway in the Tower that is the definition of evil and visiting it was an altogether wonderful experience. Not.

He doesn't say any of that, however. He just responds with a simple, flat, "No."

And to avoid her pressing the question, he adds, in the same blank tone, "However, I seem to have a cat now."

...How one seems to have a cat is another story entirely, one that will hopefully distract her and keep her from asking questions. Because, yes she needs to know that earlier this week, he rescued a cat from drowning and then he rescued a teenage girl from some horrible monster, and somehow this is the most ridiculous thing ever.

[wholelota_angel]

At the cry, Ariel moves in front of Sark, effectively acting as a living shield and taking any and every bullet meant for him and her. The shots nearly knock her back and make the entire attempt useless, but she manages to stay put. She is determined to stay on her feet until the firing stops. It's only adrenaline and the will of a guardian angel that keeps her standing by the end of it. A lot of these stray shots miss her (these guys aren't geniuses just regular humans), but more than enough hit to make it obvious to her that there's no coming back from this

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark's mind is a haze of remembered fighting stances- they're not combat masters. They're just average humans, so fighting them off is easy, aside from the fact that Ariel's in his way and he wouldn't resent that half as much if he was paying enough attention to realize that she's been shot. He's too busy trying to shoot them back before they get so close that his gun's useless.

When Ariel goes down, however, it suddenly becomes real. All of a sudden, he can hear Thane's voice in his ears, "Don't half make it easy for you, do they, Julian?"

No.

"Maybe the dog did learn a new trick. Who needs a master? Just surround yourself with people who can die for you. Lang. April. Faith. Doesn't really matter if they're willing sacrifices, but it makes it a lot easier if they are."

No.

That half bit of hesitation is enough for someone to slide a knife into the shoulder of his gun arm- just a graze because everything's too tangled to really get much in the way of efficiency. He shouts, drops his gun, and his sight goes red, and suddenly

[wholelota_angel]

There was so much pain. It was not her own. She needed to get up. She needed to help, but she couldn't. This was it. This was the end and even in the end she had failed the one purpose. Tears slip out of her eyes from the pain, the grief, the rage, and the utter uselessness of lying broken and dying on the sidewalk. Her existence had been a waste, but then she hears him. Ariel tries to let out a breath of relief, but the breath catches on the shudder of pain that takes over her body. The taste in her mouth is blood, cold like ice.

"So you can handle yourself," she says, sounding somehow amused in a distant, strained way that implies pain and fading, because now that she knows he's alive for certain and won't be dying any time soon.

There's nothing to hold on to.

He's alive. She doesn't have the energy to turn her head to look at him, but he's alive. He's injured. Obviously. She can tell from the sound of his voice and because it hurt her as she was lying there dying, but God. He's alive and still that is all that matters. The

[sarkraticmethod]

No, no, no.

"I told you I wouldn't have anyone dying for me," he growls, even though it's fruitless and stupid and she's dead, and what good did that ever accomplish? She just got stuck with him of all people.

"So this is your ward, exposed for what he really is. Someone who very well might sell every person in this hotel out for a profit if he thought he could have his life back. How does it feel to know that you're protecting someone who wouldn't dream of doing the same for anyone? Someone's laughing at you, Ariel. That's the best I can tell."

It's been a year since he said that to her. He's not convinced they're not still laughing.

He chokes back another snarl of frustration and rage and centers himself. He still has one more thing to do. He finds the piece of chain littered among the bodies and discarded weapons and stares at the unconscious man on the ground, waiting for him to wake up, all the while lurking in the shadows where he can't be immediately seen.

[liberatechicago]

The last man stands up. His head aches and he might be concussed. There are bodies all around him. All he can think to do is stand up and get out of here as fast as he can lest more wanderers show up, which is easier said than done with a possible concussion.

[sarkraticmethod]

Yeah, good luck getting away from Sark, who isn't concussed and happens to be pissed as hell. One swift movement gets the chain around the man's throat and the next moment he's been yanked against the nearest lamppost. Sark crisscrosses the chain in an x-pattern and pulls tighter- enough that this is going to hurt like hell for that man, but not enough that it's going to choke him to death.

Sark has some things he'd like to say and he is going to say them and he isn't going to let the peanut gallery speak. His hand is killing him, but if he can suffer fourteen hours with a skewer in his chest, he can handle this for a few minutes.

He leans forward and practically whispers in the man's ear, "I'm not going to kill you, which is more mercy than any of you deserve, but before you get too comfortable with that thought, I want you to know why. You're going to tell whoever you work for one, simple message and that message is this: If you come anywhere near me or anyone I care about, then you will wish that I'd killed you when I was feeling

[girlorgun]

It wasn't too long ago that a certain blonde psychic in the Kashtta raced out the door, wearing her coat, hat and scarf in hand, to be put on as she ran, assumedly. A couple people saw her leave, and wondered at it, but she's odd and a little frightening, so it's best to just let her do her thing, probably.

It's only moments after Sark's collapsed that April skids around the corner, scarf ends trailing behind her, hat crooked on her head. She pauses long enough to take in that Sark is alive and that there are no more attackers to dispatch, then practically flies to his side, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Nothing needs to be said, yet. She's just going to hold him.

[sarkraticmethod]

Oh, April. If anything can be said about her (and many, many things can be said about her), her timing is always impeccable. He's bleeding, bruised, and his hand aches enough that it's starting to get difficult to just ignore it. He just murdered four people and he doesn't even know what that fifth one will wind up doing- possibly he just singlehandedly made the entire conflict worst. Well, if he did, maybe they should have screwed with another wanderer.

And Ariel's dead, because she had to die in his place- for the second time, he's survived when he should have died.

He turns his head so he can bury his face in her hair and choke on something that's either a bitter laugh or a poorly restrained sob. "I'm not really having the best time of things, am I?"

Understatement of the year.

[girlorgun]

"Not really, no," she replies softly. Her voice is shaking a bit, but she's stable, and sturdy, and not letting go of Julian any time soon. "It'll get better. It will."

She'll make sure of it, somehow.

[sarkraticmethod]

This is fine. He can handle this. He's going to have to get up eventually, but not until Sterling and whoever he decides to bring gets there to take care of this.

"I hope that's true," he murmurs into her hair, taking comfort in her presence- at least she's here. That's something.

At this point, he really doesn't want to know what happens if things get worse.