multiversallogs | plot } the creatures descend.

plot } the creatures descend.

Who: Everyone!
What: Creatures descend!
Where: All across the city, although attacks will be most fervent at its heart.
When: Friday/Veerdi evening and into the week.
Notes: Slow and back-tagging is, as always, permitted. If you are confused, look at these two posts for more information.
Warnings: Violence, creepiness, swearing knowing these characters.

On Veerdi, the presence of the creatures reaches a fever pitch. Something has provoked them into launching an all-out assault, though it is one that begins slowly. The pipe-crawlers, generally harmless though they may be, are seen across homes in Baedal, sneaking up through the pipes and into bathtub drains or sinks. They come by the dozens, and their keening makes most homeowners nauseated--but it's their appearance that leads to a number of distressed Network calls.

This is just the distraction for the rest.

The call of the crawlers draws in the armored, sickly creatures with the tiny primates carried inside of it. They are inelegantly lumbering, but much faster than one might expect, and certainly hostile. They trudge across the city, barreling over anyone who gets in their path and leaving them half-crushed in the street. They're certainly unsettling in their obvious unhealthiness, and the disease-ridden animals they carry are downright vicious, especially once they escape (messily, bloodily) from their fleshy cage.

It's the birds that are the worst, though; the cleverest, and the cruelest.

These strange black birds are resistant to typical attacks and flying in large groups. They descend on pedestrians, picking at their eyes and faces, ready to rapidly tear flesh from bone until there's nothing left but skeletal remains. They fly out of range when they can, only to divebomb anyone who might think they've escaped.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

When the attacks began (seriously began, that is), Mina was actually on her way to the Hellsing building. She wanted to discuss recent events with Integra. Strike that. Sir Integra. Who was Mina to cast aspersions about a woman taking on the title of a man? After all, she had been Mark for a number of years. She sometimes still was.

The creatures waylaid her plans.

Almost immediately, Mina heard screaming. It was just like the American Civil War again. And she knew there were going to be some serious injuries soon. Dropping her latest set of shopping bags, Mina slit her wrist with her fingernail, chanting softly to herself. She held up her palm, turning in a wide circle. Cruac was one of the few vampire magics with which she excelled and as she turned, a topiary wall of hawthorn formed around her, shaped in a circle, with a narrow passage opening the center up to the street. It wasn't much. It certainly wasn't impenetrable, but it would serve. Cutting her wrist again, she bolstered the hedge with a second spell, causing curling thorns to grow out of it in a thousand different directions.

Dipping her fingers into the remaining blood on her arm, Mina knelt down on the street, spelling out the words 'First Aid.' As an afterthought, she drew a cross as well.

She collected her shopping bags, tossing them against one of the hawthorn walls, all except for the smallest bag, which contained a few items that would serve as makeshift medical supplies. Mina pursed her lips, listening to the sounds on the other side of the hedge. What bothered her the most was her all-too-calm reaction to the sudden deluge. She was getting old, getting jaded.

With a sigh, she shook her head, taking out her CiD. This was an opportunity, she decided. An opportunity to prove her mettle.

Was it wrong that she viewed an attack by monsters in such a positive light?

It won't take Alucard long to find the makeshift first aid station. Though he's better suited to a multitude of things beyond errand boy at present, there's no disobeying Integra - and her logic holds true: he can make quick work of a supply run, even if he'd rather not be the elect.

In one hand he's gripping a messenger back, black and nondescript, but it's quite obviously filled to the brim. It's all of the supplies she requested, plus a few additional basics for the human and nonhuman alike - some of the less common salves emblazoned with the occasional cross or rune. Fortunately, there's nothing deadly here - only protective.

He comes to a halt just beyond the gap in the hedge, peering inward, and then it's all but growled (the most good-natured growl imaginable, of course): "Delivery."

Immediately, Mina recognized that voice from a conversation over the network. She looked over at the stranger and was a little...underwhelmed. Then again, what could she possibly have been expecting? Black bats and a cape? "Vlad, I presume?" she asked, taking off her jacket. The deep brand, dull brown against her pale white skin, winked up at her, reminding her, among other things, that even if this guy was just some nutter, he was still probably older than she.

And yet, she felt very little in the way of predator's taint.

Odd.

She gave him a grim nod, walking over to take the bag. "Any idea what's causing this hullabaloo?" she asked him

The black bats and cape only come out to play on Tuesdays, unfortunately.

Alucard reaches out, allowing Mina to take the bag when she draws close. Gloved, as always, the alchemical seals long burned into them are left in plain sight.

"Alucard," he corrects her, making no point of hiding the fact that he's looking her over. There's nothing nefarious about it: he's simply coming to the same, vaguely disappointing conclusions about this supposed fellow vampire.

Mina's query goes ignored. He has better things to do, right now - and his gaze shifts from her, fixing instead at some point further in the distance. The crows are audible even where they aren't yet swarming, and it looks as if he'd like nothing better than to be at the source of those inhuman cries.

"How quickly can you move?"

Mina set the bag down on the ground, anxious to sort through the supplies. "I don't run," Mina replied, kneeling down and wrenching the bag open. And she meant that in all senses of the word. "My hands are fast enough."

She imagined he thought very poorly of her. Mina didn't mind, frankly. If she wanted to be popular, she would have worn more nylons and less clothing. Still, there was something about his nature that she found rather grating at the moment. All of the vampires in this world lacked any form of finesse or social graces. She never thought she would miss the Daeva so much. Even womanizing Doyle, with his ego and his mincing, knew how to work and play well with others.

Still, if Mina was one thing, it was showy. To demonstrate her point. In less than a breath, she drew one of her pistols, shooting a thorn off of her hedge. In the next blink of an eye, it was back in her pocket and she was sorting through the medical supplies.

"Are there any other medics in Hellsing, or am I on my own? If so, please tell me how your organization wishes me to prioritize in triage."

The vampire stays, unmoving, through her display - head canted just so.

"I hadn't endeavored to make you give up your position," and he states it with a grin. Surely, the gunfire will have drawn the attentions of their present foes - be they crows or less recogniseable creatures. "I only wanted to know if you'd be of more use as a mobile unit. If you don't run, however.."

The implication is enough. It'll do no good.

"Hellsing houses a number of medics - most of which are presently at work in the field. The others are stationed in the guild, waiting for what casualties the hospitals won't be able to accommodate. The organisation, however, has no say in the operation of nonmembers."

"Then I'll run my own triage," Mina said, setting out the salves in order of use, alphabetically. Burns first, followed by disinfectants, followed by tranquilizers, and so on. She made quick work of it, shoving all of the bottles within an inch of the hedge, to avoid puncturing any with the thorns. These thorns were capable of dealing lethal damage to immortals, after all. She didn't want to think of what they would do to glass. And she had never been quite this ambitious with Cruac before.

Not that it mattered here.

No one cared about the Masquerade.

Mina took a blanket out, laying it across the ground. From one of her shopping bags, she removed a pillow she had just purchased herself. Goose down. She sighed. Such a waste to get it all dirty and bloody, but patients were her first priority, so she set it on the blanket.

Once everything was set in place to her satisfaction, she took out the bottle of rum she had been saving, just in case. Pulling out the cork with her teeth, she poured some into her palms, rubbing them clean and sterile. And smelling rather pleasant.

"If that's all you required,"

And Mina will have a rather sardonic bow, should she choose to regard him in that moment - as well as a bit of what she'd been hoping to see before. There's a quiet flutter of wings, and Alucard's hand - his arm - no, Alucard, has gone, swept up and off to kill in a form she's like to recognise: a swarm of bats.

[OOC: If you don't want this here, please let me know, and we can put it elsewhere.]

Raylan has shot a few pipe-crawlers, and is more than eager to get out of bed and help, but his attempts have shown him that he's still got some mending to do.

That said, he's not resigned to it either. When he hears someone passing that doesn't sound like a nurse, he calls out, "Hey - how's it goin' out there?"

Mina was headed in for the night, cursing softly to herself. She had never so ardently wished to be Ordo Dracul before. Perhaps then, she mused, she might be able to withstand the morning sun. Perhaps then, she might be able to continue her work uninterrupted.

That line of thought, however, led down an uncomfortable road, one she still wasn't ready to think about.

One that involved Tom.

When she heard someone's voice, she paused on her way back to her room, looking around. She was a bit of a fright, to be honest; her purple, button-down shirt spattered with blood, her sleeves rolled up and showing off her ugly branding scar, her fedora eschew. Still, that didn't sound like a particularly happy voice. Perhaps there was more she could do tonight.

"Not well, I'm afraid," she said.

"I was afraid of that." He was shirtless, still bandaged around the torso, with his hat hung on the bedpost behind him.

He'd seen worse than Mina's state, but he'd seen better too. "We've had a few crawl their way in here, but I can hear a bit out the window."

Deciding to be bold, Mina stepped inside of his room, taking off her hat. "Is that what happened to you?" she asked, gesturing toward his bandages. She set her medic bag down on the nearest raised surface. "No offense, my dear, but you look like death worn over."

Mina would have made a terrible psychologist. She had little tact.

He smiled, grim. "No. Lucky enough to get a hole in me before I came to this place. But thanks for the concern." He glanced at her medic bag, then added, "They've been patchin' me up, but a bit too slow for my liking."

Mina raised an eyebrow. "What kind of hole are we talking about?" she asked, walking over to him and leaving the bag behind.

His comment about the healing being too slow sent a nasty tingle down her spine. Mina knew a thing or two about speeding up that process, but after her recent clashes with certain individuals at the Hellsing organization, she felt more than a little hesitation to do anything...rash.

"Did someone take a shot at you?"

"The kind you make with a bullet, yeah. The bullet ain't in there anymore, but the hole's slower to close up." It's been well cleaned and cared for, but it's not been healed beyond the human medicine he's used to.

"Funny thing, I think they were trying to kill me."

Mina couldn't help but smile a little bit. "After all the lacerations I've seen, a gunshot wound is surprisingly refreshing," she said. She walked over to the side of his bed, lightly resting her fingers on one of the bandages. "Do you mind if I have a look?" she asked.

It occurred to Mina, of course, that he was probably one of the so-called 'worldwalkers,' just like her. How strange it was that she was going up to complete strangers and asking to look under their bandages. This wasn't a hospital. She just felt some kind of affinity for these people, in the same boat.

"My name is Mina," she said. "Dr. Mina Barrett. Chicago, February of 1932."

He sighs, and offers a hand. "Raylan Givens, deputy U.S. Marshal. 2010. And knock yourself out." She didn't seem like she was out to make anything worse, at least, and she was at least claiming to be a doctor.

"Didn't know they let women do that, in '32."

She took his hand, giving it a firm shake and turning her arm down just slightly to hide her brand. "A haircut and signing your name 'Mark' can do wonders for a woman's medical career," she said absently. "Which is not to suggest that I lie about everything. My diagnoses are generally the truth, for whatever that's worth."

She pulled back the bandages, frowning slightly. 2010. She had seen the kind of weapons that existed in the future, as it were. Brown and Morgenstern had brought something called a sub-machine gun back from their jaunt into the future. It was a work of art, beauty beyond measure. It was also devastating. She really, really hoped she didn't see anything like that beneath the bandages.

"Who was trying to kill you?" she asked. "A jealous lover? It's all the rage in Chicago these days. Or rather, my days."

"That's very reassuring." The comment about her lying, that is.

His wound was nothing that severe; a few weeks of healing had already reduced the outer damage, but it was a smaller firearm, a handgun not unlike those from her time, at least in caliber.

"And no. Line of duty, sad to say, nothing that exciting." Which wasn't, perhaps, strictly true. But it was close to it.

"Duty?" Mina repeated, gently feeling the skin around the wound. It looked healthy, which was a bit of a relief. For a brief, flickering second, she had worried that she would need to slip him some vitae to save him. That wouldn't have ended well. Mina wasn't overly fond of creating ghouls. She had only done it once or twice. Generally, she always gave too much or too little. It was more of an art than a science, really.

She walked back over to her medical bag, opening it. On the inside was a scalpel. Carefully, she lifted the handle, keeping both of her hands inside of the bag. Swiftly, she slit open her palm, murmuring a few words in Norse. Cruac, combined with some good dressings would do the trick. No muss, no fuss, no breaking the Masquerade.

As if such a thing still existed.

"Are you a police officer?" she asked, picking up her bag and returning to his bedside. She kept her hand in, forcing her blood to heal up the damage created to cast the spell.

"Marshals - we're law enforcement. Not exactly police, but close enough, yeah." His eyes were tracking her concealed hand - police of any stripe, she probably knew, weren't fond of hands where you couldn't see them.

Still, he made himself resist the temptation to get combative. Maybe he was just jumpy over nothing.

Her hand healed, Mina took a few bottles out of her bag. "Well, you're either a very good marshal or a very bad marshal if you were injured in the line of duty," she said with a bit of a smile. In truth, Mina never had too great a fondness for law enforcement. It went with the territory of constantly being an outlaw. Then again, she supposed, in vampiric society, she and the other Amazons were law enforcement. It was really all just a matter of point of view.

She poured some salve into her magically charged hand, hoping it wouldn't interfere with her Cruac. She had never tried anything like this before. "I'm going to guess you're good at what you do. You have that sort of look. Not to mention those irresistible brown eyes."

Mina was a sucker for puppy-dog eyes.

Gently, she started to rub the salve along his chest, sending the Cruac energy into his skin. Maiden Skin. One of the most undervalued abilities natural tot he Circle of the Crone. She shook her head. Pity more didn't learn to use it. "You're lucky. In my time, a woman sees a man shirtless and it's presumed they're going steady," she teased.

"I'm sort of spoken for. What's that?" He didn't comment on her assessment of his skills as a marshal - he was either very good, or very bad, but most people who knew him might answer both, in different situations or on different days.

Still, he wanted to know what she was doing.

"Don't get jumpy," she told him, not taking her eyes off of her work. Already, she could feel the tender parts of the wound stiffening with the spell. She estimated he would be good as new in a week. Hopefully less. Not quite as speedy as ghouling, but far less obvious. And obvious was the last thing she needed right now.

"Although my specialty is meatball surgery, I know a thing or two about holistic healing," she lied. She lightly patted his chest, pulling her hand back and taking out a handkerchief to clean the salve off of her rings. "Stitches and disinfectant are great, but they don't really do much to speed up the body's own handiwork."

Mina took out some fresh bandages. She leaned over Raylan again, the ring around her neck slipping out from under her collar and swinging in the air. "So tell me about the future."

He doesn't miss that she hasn't, precisely, answered his question. But it didn't feel bad, and he remembers Integra's earlier suggestion. There were going to be a lot of things in Baedal he was going to have to get used to.

And he can't deny he feels a subtle difference already.

"Don't know exactly what you want to know. Can't really compare about Chicago, but I can't imagine Kentucky's changed much." A pause, then he adds, "Booze is legal again."

Mina's First Aid Station

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Later @ Valhalla Inn

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