A nervous cackle claws it's way out of Ace's throat as he falls back on his butt in the grass.
Block continues to stare at the scene for a second. Barely audible, he mutters, "You sure know how to throw a party, X."
Stricken, Leeson sags onto a nearby park bench. The look on his face reveals profound shock, and loss. Definitely loss. He definitely doesn't look at all pleased about tonight's events.
Ace scrambles to his feet and scans everything to try and detect if he's merely halucinating the current apparent situation, as if trying to pierce a veil he seriously hopes isn't there. Eyes to the sky to stare at the chopper until it's familiar lines register as Normal, the twinkling stars through the clouds seem Normal, the trees gently swaying in the faint breeze seem Normal, the playground equipment's metal bits shining dimly in the occasional flashes of city lights, the unnatural darkness replaced with Normal sights, the bon fire gone completely, and the honking of distant horns as Normal as it gets. After turning in place on a heel, gun at the ready, senses so twitchy it's a wonder he doesn't hear fleas farting at half a Klick, Ace finally begins to relax a notch.
"Two to team," Block transmits on the link, "anyone hurt?" His focus turns entirely to the stunned rat shaman. He makes sure that his new friend is unharmed physically and magically, and then offers to help him get back home safely from the Park. Leeson feebly waves him away.
At Block's transmission inquiring about the status of our health, Ace quickly does a Macarena to check himself for punctures, breaks, bullet holes, or anything bloody. Nothing seems to be amiss, so Ace smiles to himself. Back over the same link he replies: "Two, Three. I'm either healthy or dead. If I'm healthy then I'm happy. If I'm dead I'm delusional. Either way I'm Good!"
Mr. X breaks his silence. "Guys, we need to go." he says in a normal tone. He turns and heads for the edge of the park, back towards Leeson's neighborhood, toward home. "See what you can do about exiting the park." he continues, "I'll try to do some recon to see if I can find you a hole in the perimeter to get out by." With that he is swallowed by thin air, vanishing right before your eyes, nothing betraying his continued existence beyond a few weirdly curving warps in the air where he stood. (Still stands?)
Ace takes a long, slow, deep breath and nods as if to acknowledge it's a good idea. "Primary, Three." he transmits on the team push. "Targets have vanished. Repeat, Targets no longer in the area. Presumed destroyed by magic. Normal visual seems to have returned. Can see stars and a NYPD gunship flying by. We're RTB just as fast as we can. Out."
On the same channel, Block confirms, "Prime, Two. Red King is off the board, tonight. His two rooks are off the board permanently." He adds, "if Red King ever comes back on the board, expect him to have turned."
Realizing he's standing within earshot of his friend, Ace laughs & steps closer to clap Block on the shoulder. He snorts and whispers back sotto vocce: "Red King? What are you, going for most elloquent runner of the year award?" He gives Block's shoulder a squeeze to show he's just kidding, then follows Block's lead as the other man turns to Leeson.
Ace adds in his own attempts to help Leeson come to grips with the evident loss of Miss Garcia, hoping his ineptitude over such "touchy feely emotional s4" still manages to do some good. He quickly slips his weapon back where it belongs and turns his attention to Leeson, along with Block. A soft suggestion to Leeson that "Let's get you home, Chummer" gets added to Block's attempts to get their new friend moving.
Block reminds Ace that there were wings for sale back at the EchoPlex.
Heaving a huge sigh of relief at having found none, Ace's face breaks out into a wide, gleefull grin.
Leeson appears to be in shock, but seems serviceable. His responses are all logy, but at least he's not catatonic. Sluggishly he stands, as Ace and Block put their arms across his shoulders in order to help ease the addled rat shaman twoards *his* home... |
