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There were many ways in which his current actions checked off boxes for stupidity, albeit mildly cushioned by the timeframe in which he was executing them. It had been precisely fourteen minutes and seventeen seconds since he'd witnessed the end of the unusual assault on the video cameras of the mall according to his digital wrist-watch, which gave the two involved parties plenty of time to disappear.
He'd stopped trying to make sense of the motions he'd seen - they'd effortlessly violated the physics he'd been taught in school, there was no use trying to make them work or endlessly worry about that he couldn't - but he accepted, mutely, that his gun would make no difference. It didn't protect him. It wouldn't help him save the victim - especially not now that he'd left it so late. But however he spun it, it felt better than staying in place.
He was still trying to work out whether he should shoot anyone approaching the breached front foor without waiting to be seen in the shadows, or shoot past them in some strange test of regular humanity, or ask questions first, but none of the options really satisfied him. The central one seemed appealing, but what did he expect the reaction that would differentiate people from what he'd seen to be? There might be a subtle distinction, but that would only help him in a scenario where he came across a regular human being. In the other, it would just make him more of a target.
The splinters of glass at the entrance disappointingly tell him nothing - he hasn't spontaneously become a gifted detective. Left to himself, he wouldn't even be able to begin to guess the direction in which the forces in question would have acted on the thick glass. None of this makes any sense - including his being here, looking for signs as to where the two fellows might have disappeared to, cherry-picking his reality and neatly and with practised ease quelling any urge to panic.
His first reaction to two figures registering as a hint of motion across the street is to whip his pistol up and aim it in that direction - a steady grip, a careful aim, there was no use in being premature about firing the weapon if it wasn't going to meet its target. All quite commendable. His breath is steady, his thought processes clear. Then the fantasy morphs into a deep grimace, weapon dropping, letting himself be guided by instinct. There wasn't much of an alternative left to him, given he'd opted out of rationally addressing the problem. He exhales his frustration - then he's calling across: “You all right?”
They'd been seeking other people, preferably people with a clue what was going on and both the skills and knowledge to do something about it as well as somewhere safe to hide until someone else fixed the problem. Preferably one of the aforementioned “people with a clue”. And by that metric someone with a uniform and a gun that wasn't panicking looked like an excellent start. Nobody would have both unless they knew how to use them, and that was already a big advantage over Keneh and her. Even implausible physics-bending humanoids required a brain and brains were less efficient with several high velocity holes punched through them.
So in theory when she catches motion out of the corner of her eye and spins towards it the sight should be comforting. After all, isn't this what they were looking for? That does not stop her yelping and freezing like a rabbit in headlights when she realises that there is someone pointing a gun at her. Guns are scary! Guns shouldn't be anywhere near her! And if they were she should be behind the gun and wearing earmuffs, not a target.
And then it is pointing at the ground and that is somewhat better but her instincts are still screaming “Enemy enemy! Danger!” as her hand presses over her chest as if to re-enforce her ribs and stop her hammering heart escaping. A swallow, a second one, tongue run across dry lips and finally Delaney manages to respond: “We have no idea what is going on, which way is safety?”
Robert's reaction is one of silence - his gaze sweeps through the landscape one more time to be sure that no immediate other threat is lingering nearby, coming out of the woodwork now that a sound had roused it, then he glances back at the two passersby and raises his left arm, sans gun, to wave them over, taking a step back through the punctured entrance of the mall.
There's something about the way he's moving and about the circumstance that inspires Keneh to trust he's not about to turn psychopath on them once they're inside. After all, if he wanted to harm them, there was no one else around right now and he could easily riddle them with bullet holes from a distance. No, everything about him had the markings of someone similarly wary of the turn of events from a little over an hour ago as they were.
Still, hesitance. Hesitance feels right in a situation that she's still not wrapped her head around. Hesitance feels right when they've just had a gun pointed at them, no matter how much it can be explained away. So it takes a moment for her to nudge herself into motion. The mall might not look like the best place to hide right now, but it's an acceptable first step - it's not outside.
Her gaze flits to Delaney as if asking for permission, but it comes to late to stop the motion. Might as well. At the very least, they'd be able to get a second opinion on what's going on, right?
It's a stranger with a gun, which is not good, but at least if they get attacked he might be able to do some damage or at least distract it while the pair of them start running. So as long as they don't get shot then hiding with another survivor (don't think of it like that, DON'T!) is a good idea.
Keneh seems to agree so her brain mustn't be completely broken yet. Gravel crunches under their feet as they skip the long way around and cross straight through the decorative verge in front of the store. It's weirdly loud. There should be so many other sounds wrapped around them and Delaney doesn't know if they've all suddenly ceased or her mind is blocking them in favour of hyperfocus on immediate threats.
They stop just slightly beyond normal polite distance, but he's an armed stranger and they're all freaked out. Which is probably a bad idea because if he turns violent they need to be able to leap onto him and snatch his arms before he can get the gun up but if things are quiet then noise is probably a bad idea and hopefully he's smart enough to realise that too.
If he's not and he shoots them… well, it sucks for them but at least the thought of karma punishing him in a blaze of lava would be satisfying. “Do you know what's happening?” Delaney asks again.
Robert's gaze scans the exterior of the building one more time - then shrugs noncommittally as he takes a moment to secure and holster the gun again. There's a moment awkwardly rendered without eye contact where it would have been appropriate, then he's glancing into the mall and stepping away from the entrance, giving them another wave. For a moment, it looks like he's not going to answer the question verbally - then he breaks the silence: “No.” He sounds mildly frustrated about that, but not shattered. “Haven't seen anyone that does, either. Plenty of theories, but that's the internet for you.” Evidently, what they're talking about can remain unstated - the very fact Delaney asked her question the way she did leaves little question in Robert's mind that this is about the mysterious fires and what he'd caught on camera. “I'm Robert,” he adds in afterthought, half turning toward them mid-step, body language one of a casual friendliness currently trapped in red alert mode. “Night security shift,” he adds, tipping one shoulder into another shrug while he leads them through the mall, their path beginning to hug to the right of the hallway.
A scared security guard. Great. Although it'd probably be worse if he wasn't scared because that suggests the sort of mental issues they really cannot afford to deal with. And he has the internet! Which means and more importantly communication. That's a nice step forward.
“Delaney,” she offers in reply as they tag along after him. Okay, so if he doesn't know what is happening that suggests the authorities don't either. Not good, but not really surprising; it may feel like lots of time has elapsed but that's the adrenaline talking, it'll probably take a day or two to focus on causes rather than responses. Especially when physics is being messed with. (She still doesn't want to think about that.)
“Is the internet saying anything helpful about what people should be doing, then?” Presumably 'stay indoors' and 'avoid this area' but she'll take what they can get. And at least an area to avoid gives a direction to flee in.
Was it doing that? Not really. What was it saying? It was full of fragmented facts and dithered between opinions that none of it was real and that the end of the world was near. “Eh,” he comments, syllable the carrier for a tone meant to convey that the two shouldn't get their hopes up. They've turned into a side-path by now and he's unlocking a door to a narrow flight of stairs, then holding it open by mostly leaning against it with his back. His lips press together, cheeks puffing out ever so slightly in subdued frustration. “Let's take a look at the data together, shall we?” he offers, tone still remarkably neutral for someone whose designated mall now had a hole in it.
Great. That meant it was probably 4 parts panic, 5 parts conspiracy theories and 1 part wrong directions. Why couldn't this have been a flood or a bushfire or a cyclone or something natural that they at least had some idea how to cope with? I mean there wasn't anything you could do to stop a natural disaster and you just had to ride it out, which on the surface seemed worse than a man-made disaster that you could shoot and be done with, but all natural disasters had plans and she really wanted a plan.
At least they got to see what the security room of a shopping center looked like? Not that she'd ever really had the urge to but she was scrambling for distractions right now. Like from the major question of 'where is everyone?' because there really should be more people. Had they all done the sensible thing and fled? Or… hang on, wasn't there some big rugby match on this week? Maybe everyone was at home watching that.
A minute later, they're in a small room where a handful of monitors is enough to register as 'plastering one wall'. There are two chairs in the room, one which has long since been re-designated as an inconveniently shaped cupboard, some books stacked up on it in nostalgic defiance of e-reader devices, with a backpack of sorts balanced on top fo the same. A laptop with a dark screen sits on the desk under the monitors. The images are cycling at a glacial pace, but even just the first swap of images reveals that at least one camera is out. Probably one of the entrance ones.
Robert absent-mindedly gestured to the empty seat, clearly not about to mediate between Delaney and Keneh as to which of them would actually get to sit down, then slung himself across his laptop, briefly fingering at the bridge of his nose with one hand while the other tips the screen from its forward-leaning angle into a back tilt, impatiently tapping at the [Ctrl] key the whole eternal second it takes the laptop to wake back up to a youtube page with a black still.
“So what- oh,” he begins, cutting himself short, before gesturing past the seat and onto the ground next to the repurposed one, where a pack of soda cans sits, one corner already molested and empty, but with five cans remaining. “Feel free,” he offers - some part of him briefly wondering why he was going to add insult to injury by not only letting two random strangers into this room but also offering drinks, neither of which him employers would particular enjoy - then clears his throat, spilling into a matter-of-fact toned mini-ramble. “So what would you like to see first? Local footage, internet footage? Mind, there's not much, this hasn't much woken Townsville up just yet. I'd blare a siren if I could, do the trick, let everyone deal with this with their eyes open, but-” He stops, glancing at the two of them as if in apology. “Well, see for yourselves, right?”
Sugar suddenly seemed a wonderous idea but first she wanted to be sure that she'd seen and more importantly how much her brain had made up. Delaney had never wished so much to see an over the top raygun that could be overlooked, and no she was not letting herself wonder if that was a contradiction. “We saw the state of the bridge, and someone being a meteor in a carpark and smashing shop windows,” she offered. Although it was unlikely Robert had footage of that. Or that anyone did unless someone saw it on a traffic camera or something and risked their job uploading it to Youtube.
Although that meant that more stuff had been broken, if the videos weren't of what they'd seen. Nervously, Delaney took a step closer to peer at the laptop. “What else has happened?”
With Keneh's gaze lingering on the monitors and no other direct decision being made, Robert nods a little as if Delaney's question needed acknowledgement and pushed a button on the device with the most cables. A near inaudible click - probably more button than any mechanics - accompanies the motion, then he's pushing against a narrow piece of plastic. It pops out, revealing itself as an SD card. “There's this,” he comments, slotting it into his laptop. “Give me a second,” he comments, softly, his attention on the laptop.
A file browser with a flat list of cryptically named files pops up. A click sorts them by time. A near-inaudible 'uuh' bridges two more seconds. Then he's double-clicked on one of them, spawning a media player. Bland, night-time footage of the entrance can be seen, starting at 22:00. He checks his watch as if to be reminded of the timestamp he's looking for - it's showing 23:03, obviously not useful. Then he's skipping ahead, clicking along the time bar. “Ah, there,” he comments, turning the laptop so Delaney and Keneh can see it.
The time on the video, ticking relentlessly in the corner, declares it 22:35. The view is from above and beside the entrance, looking down, catching a generous chunk of space before the mall on top of half the stretch of its front. At this point in time, someone is hiding behind a decorative shrub next to the entrance, set in some heavy, fat-bellied faux-ceramic pot. With Robert's helpful skipping, it's unclear how the anonymous figure got there, but the body language is tense.
For long, arduous seconds, nothing happens, prompting Robert to glance at the screen almost nervously, as if at this point courtesy still mattered and making his two guests wait for the event was an unforgivable sin.
Then the floor ruptures.
It's not a gradual, cinematic motion taking its time to creep around the base of the deco - the ground splinters delicately and uselessly from forces not meant for it, the anonymous figure leaps back in instinct, and in another mere second, the heavy object is invisibly lifted and tossed aside, skittering across the thick glass of the entrance before flying well out of the screen - presumably, it was still lying somewhere off to the right of the entrance when they went it, part of it splintered much like the doors.
The uncovered human's instinct evidently guides him into the other direction. A plume of fire, disconnected, cuts his attempt to flee short. Then the presumed author steps into the reach of the camera, gait neither lazy nor in haste. The soundless video reveals that the trapped man's shouting something, but obviously not what - only to cringe down as a shallow circle of fire, open only to the approaching figure, fences him in.
The approaching figure seems entirely unfazed by the display. Its gaze shifts down to its hands, where it's picking at something - a close-combat wound, perhaps, a slash from a knife, it's hard to see any details. Then the fire extinguishes and something grips the hapless human by the torso, visibly compressing his shirt against his skin, sliding his back a few inches up the wall immediately next to the entrance, just enough to deny his feet any purchase on the ground. <c>
It takes another arduous minute of only minimal visible motion on the victim's part for the stranger to approach him, reaching up with both hands, physically grasping at his jaw with the one. The motion of the other is hard to make out in clarity from the video, but it ends with the hand clasped over his mouth. Then long seconds of nothing - and an abrupt stepping away. The human crumples, half curling in on himself. It doesn't need a soundtrack to be a harrowing, obvious sob.
The stranger offers a hand up and a few words are spoken - but the folded character's reaction understandably seeks no reconciliation. He's on his feet a moment later, trying to kick at the other, claw at him, but while his assailant is backing away, none of the motions look like they're hitting it. Then the human folds over again - and after a long moment of watching the new display, the figure, having apparently lost interest, leaves with the same neutral pace that brought it close.
✘ IN PROGRESS