The sound of sirens came through the opening and closing back doors -- crescendo, decrescendo, loud and then muted. Police, fire and rescue all approached, having been called automatically by the company that monitored the electronic panel.
"Damn it." The brunette wiped water out of her eyes. After the vampire jumped offstage, she had lost track of her whereabouts, but she did see Michael Jackson on the ground. It looked like he was unconscious, and there was a trickle of blood near his ear. She couldn't just leave him there, not after he actually stepped up to the plate and tried to get people out of the door.
She started making her way closer, keeping an eye on the red leather jacket. "Hey!" she called and realized she didn't know his name. Steve? He looked like a Steve. "Get up!" Of course, to yell in this din was pointless, but she was desperate to get him off the concrete floor before he took another boot to the head. The puddles all around her shoes looked pinkish and she couldn't tell if it was an effect from the lighting or if there was that much blood being spilled in the room.
Two steps more...
Katherine did not know it, but as her knife blade slashed arms, shoulders, necks, in a variety of life-threatening and non-life-threatening wounds, it was about to dig into the very person she'd gone to the club in search of.
Rhiannon felt flesh rending in her lower back, near the left kidney. She sucked air between her clenched teeth and turned, just in time to see the brown tail of the vampire's hair disappearing between Cleopatra and Charlie Brown.
Thump... Crack... Thump...
A fire axe in a locked door.
A bark over a mounted speaker on a car: "Put your hands in the air!"
The cavalry had arrived.
Rhiannon bent down and grabbed the guy under his arm pits. She dragged him across the club floor and propped his unconscious -- alive? -- body up against the bar, next to the drunk woman from earlier. "Look out for him, okay?" She didn't wait to hear confirmation, just took off.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ninetydegrees
no subject
on 2013-11-14 02:15 am (UTC)"Damn it." The brunette wiped water out of her eyes. After the vampire jumped offstage, she had lost track of her whereabouts, but she did see Michael Jackson on the ground. It looked like he was unconscious, and there was a trickle of blood near his ear. She couldn't just leave him there, not after he actually stepped up to the plate and tried to get people out of the door.
She started making her way closer, keeping an eye on the red leather jacket. "Hey!" she called and realized she didn't know his name. Steve? He looked like a Steve. "Get up!" Of course, to yell in this din was pointless, but she was desperate to get him off the concrete floor before he took another boot to the head. The puddles all around her shoes looked pinkish and she couldn't tell if it was an effect from the lighting or if there was that much blood being spilled in the room.
Two steps more...
Katherine did not know it, but as her knife blade slashed arms, shoulders, necks, in a variety of life-threatening and non-life-threatening wounds, it was about to dig into the very person she'd gone to the club in search of.
Rhiannon felt flesh rending in her lower back, near the left kidney. She sucked air between her clenched teeth and turned, just in time to see the brown tail of the vampire's hair disappearing between Cleopatra and Charlie Brown.
Thump... Crack... Thump...
A fire axe in a locked door.
A bark over a mounted speaker on a car: "Put your hands in the air!"
The cavalry had arrived.
Rhiannon bent down and grabbed the guy under his arm pits. She dragged him across the club floor and propped his unconscious -- alive? -- body up against the bar, next to the drunk woman from earlier. "Look out for him, okay?" She didn't wait to hear confirmation, just took off.