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xp_logs2004-11-22 09:40 pm
x-empath.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2004-11-22 09:40 pm
Heiress Discordia!, Part II - Hellfire and Damnation
The party continues. Amanda has an encounter with Alphonso, and then Manuel runs into some real trouble with Selene.
"Champagne, miss?"
Amanda started at the sudden voice - she was on a higher balcony level, leaning against the railing that overlooked the dance floor, watching the partygoers below swirl and tumble and spin like a flock of butterflies, or confetti scattered to the wind… Realising she hadn't responded to the question, she smiled at the young waiter in question (he was rather cute, in a snooty way) and took the offered glass.
"Thank you," she said, her accent anonymously British, what she called her BBC voice. She raised the glass slightly to him and took a sip, consciously not gulping it. No matter how much she wanted to, she wasn't going to get drunk and embarrass Manny, not here, not with these people.
The waiter gave her a mocking hint of a smile and a slight bow and withdrew. Amanda sighed and cast her attention back down to the floor, sipping again at the fizzy wine. It was very good, but then again, that was to be expected. "Come on, Manny, what the fuck's keepin' you?" she muttered under her breath, fingers tapping an impatient tattoo on the marble of the railing. Business was business, but he'd been gone for ages…
"Such a shame, that such a pretty girl be so neglected by her escort." The voice was one she knew, knew and loathed. Amanda turned to Alphonso, a bright, patently fake smile on her face.
"'Pretty', is it now? Funny, the last time you saw me you called me a whore." She enjoyed his confusion at both the sight of her - in her dress, with her face made-up, her hair done and with markedly fewer piercings, she was nothing like the elder de la Rocha's memory of her. "Still, fine feathers an' all of that."
"You called yourself a whore, my dear. I merely accepted your word, as a gentleman would." Alphonso recovered smoothly. "But come, tonight is a celebration, and there is no reason why we can't get along. Especially when my son neglects you so shamelessly." His smile was charming, polite, without a hint of any ill-feeling. "I would not let such a prize as you sit alone, waiting on me. I would parade you to everyone I knew, in order to make them insanely jealous at my good fortune."
Amanda swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, and had another mouthful of champagne to moisten it. Alphonso was playing games with her again, and she knew she was no match for him. ~Love, where are you?~ she thought desperately, but there was no response. He was too far away, she supposed.
"What do you want, Alphonso?" she asked abruptly, seeking refuge in rudeness.
He didn't deign to notice her tone. "Merely to pass the time. I so enjoy a good conversation, such as I had with your guardian, the charming Ms Wisdom. We spoke, during your disappearance. A very interesting woman. Did you know she threatened me?"
"Can't imagine why," Amanda muttered, edging away from him ever-so-slightly. The room had suddenly grown far too hot, and she gulped at the drink in her hand.
"I'll have to have her killed one day, of course, but in the meantime, an entertaining opponent. And very protective of you. But then again, you have that effect on people, don't you? Ms Wisdom and her odious little brother, that hulking incompetent moron of a mercenary Dayspring and his woman… even my son." Alphonso's eyes had hardened, although he retained that charming smile. "So much concern, so much care, all for you." Disdain emphasised the last word. "It seems strange that all this protectiveness be focussed on something so worthless, don't you agree?"
"No. I mean, yes. I…" The room was swirling now, and it was hard to focus on the man in front of her. "What d'you want?" she repeated, her words slurring a little.
"I simply want to know what all the fuss is about, Miss Sefton." Alphonso's smile was predatory now, the urbane veneer gone. He watched as Amanda swayed, the champagne glass slipping from her hand to smash on the floor. "Take her to my private chamber," he instructed the waiter who appeared at his elbow, his expression clearly mocking now as he looked at the befuddled girl.
"Yes, Your Eminence," the waiter replied, moving to take Amanda's elbow none-too-gently.
"And don't bruise her." Alphonso held the man with a cold stare, and he loosened his hold somewhat. Manuel's father smirked. "I prefer to do that myself."
***
***
Someone was screaming. In her head. Someone was in pain, in terror, and they were screaming, screaming like they'd never stop…
Manuel was screaming.
Amanda tried to open her eyes, to move, but her body refused to respond, drugged and numb as it was. A small whimper escaped her as she tried again, but fortunately it went unnoticed by anyone in the room. And in her head the screaming continued, the link stretched, grew thin, insubstantial…
The link.
Acting on a protective instinct stronger than anything she'd felt before, stronger than the pink-tinged haze the drugs were casting on her thoughts and reactions, Amanda concentrated her efforts inward, withdrawing back into the centre of her mind, her essential being, to the pebbled, wind-swept beach that was her mindscape. The beach itself was secure, unchanged, although a storm was raging around her, whipping the sea into choppy whitecaps. But the lighthouse, the symbolic representation of the link with Manuel… it was fading, the light flickering weakly, the stones of its walls becoming transparent. Here, at her centre, Amanda could think again, and a white-hot fury arose in her at the thought that someone was hurting Manuel, breaking his mind like this. Without a second thought, she flung herself at the light, her avatar speeding like an arrow through the stormy twilight and through the link, into Manuel's mind.
Manuel's mindscape was far less structured than hers - a series of rooms, scenes, moments. Now all that was being stripped away, the memories that formed the foundation of it in tatters. Already there was much that was gone, much that made Manuel himself sucked into the gaping void of dark energies that had invaded his mind. Amanda 'tasted' the metallic tang of magic in Manuel's mind, felt the darkness of it, and her rage exploded outwards, blue-tinged flames erupting from her form, solidifying into a shimmering wall of blueish energy between the rest of Manuel's memories and the darkness - her shielding spell. The shadowy blackness withdrew, but only a little, before inky tendrils crept forward again, reclaiming the parts of Manuel's mind they had already taken. One tested her shield, and the backlash clawed into Amanda's mind like a fiery talon.
She didn't have the power to combat this. Not directly. Not with her body incapacitated and her mutant power restricted by the amulet…
Another of Manuel's memories, outside her shield's influence, was sucked in, a fleeting image of herself, playing piano and teasing Manuel about not picking up after himself, leaving his music in her head… The solution came to her then, desperate and risky, but it was all she had, all they had; gesturing, she firmed up her shield before shrinking it inwards, leaving herself outside of it, but containing all of Manuel's remaining strong emotional memories within. Those of her, she realised, with another stab of anger. They'd left Love until last. When the shielding spell was a blueish glowing sphere the size of a basketball, Manuel's memories secure within, she shoved it back through the tattered picture that was his representation of the link, back into her own mind, where they would be safe, at least for now. That done, she turned her attention outwards.
~Trust me, love,~ she thought, not even sure if there was enough of Manuel's mind left to answer, before she closed her eyes, focussed, concentrated…
One breath. Two. On the third she opened Manuel's eyes. Looked directly at Selene.
"Time someone taught you some fuckin' manners, cunt," she growled, Manuel's voice forced to a higher register than usual. Her grip on his body was tenuous, clumsy, but she had enough control to reach out and shove his hand into the centre of Selene's chest, between her breasts. Dark energy crackled between them, and Amanda nearly lost her hold on Manuel's body as it jerked violently under the sudden influx of previously unfelt, unsought power.
The empath fell back, unsure of what was happening but not able to interfere - to his senses, Manuel was reading all wrong, a sudden, solid wave of fury and hatred battering at his shields where no such emotions should be. Selene herself was transfixed, shocked by the sudden change in circumstances, unable to focus as the boy - no, not the boy, it was the girl, that damned witch-child, wearing the boy's body - drained first her magical power, and then began drawing on her life energies… The brown eyes had turned completely black, edge to edge, and sparks of shadowy power rippled down his arm and into his body. Summoning a desperate burst of strength, Selene raised her open hands and blasted Manuel/Amanda away from her, sending him stumbling clumsily away.
"Selene!" Alphonso came forward, looking from the panting, haggard-looking witch to his son. His son, who had just pushed his hand into the Black Queen's chest. "What the hell is going on? I thought you said you could remove his memories, make him malleable to us."
"That is not your son," Selene gasped, grabbing at a chair back to hold herself upright. She'd lost too much energy, she needed to feed… The empath was in easy reach, and she clutched at him with her power, draining his lifeforce with a desperate greed. She let the limp body fall, and straightened, glaring not at Manuel, but at the Amanda's still body. "The girl's in his body, controlling him."
Mind reeling from the sheer amount of power she'd taken from Selene, trying desperately to focus it through non-existent channels, Amanda watched as Selene rallied, and realised there was no way she could win this fight. Not without losing Manuel. With two awkward, shambling steps - Manuel's greater height meant his centre of gravity was very different to hers - she moved his body to where hers lay, wincing at the battered condition it was in. What the fuck had happened? She couldn't remember, remembered nothing but Alphonso's triumphant, leering grin and a champagne glass falling to the marble floor, shattering… She jerked her attention back to the situation at hand - dropping clumsily to Manuel's knees, she gathered her own limp form in his arms, throwing up a shielding spell. The protective wall was black, rather than her own blue, and there were shapes that squirmed within its energies, misshapen, grotesque, drooling mouths and reaching arms, and flat, hungry eyes… Squeezing his eyes closed, she recited the teleportation spell she'd learned in Asgard, but never had the power to use, the ancient Norse syllables jerky and halting as Manuel's throat protested against protracted use at the wrong register. As she said the last syllables, felt the world begin to shift and shimmer, she looked straight at Alphonso through the dark energies of the shield. Through his son's eyes.
"Manuel's not yers any more, you ratfuckin' cunt bastard. He's mine, an' if you come near either of us again, I'll strip every inch of skin off yer fat stinkin' hide an' make you eat yer own balls as dessert," she grated.
Alphonso merely smirked. "I've been threatened by better than the likes of you, whore," he sneered. "You should take lessons from that 'mother' of yours. As for Manuelito… take him. I have no further use for him." Then the spell swallowed them both up, and anything else he said was lost.
***
The relative peace of the second-floor hallway was abruptly shattered as the air rippled and tore, a portal tearing itself open in a flurry of crackling dark forces. Angelo watched, rooted to the spot as two familiar shapes dropped from it, crashing heavily to the floor. Amanda landed limply and remained still, her dress torn, one shoe missing, her skin scratched and bruised and bleeding, and Angelo moved to her side, kneeling next to her and checking her pulse. It was there, but so faint it seemed it would stop any minute. Around them an alarm began to sound, part of Lee's security system picking up the unfamiliar teleport.
Beside them, Manuel groaned and half-rolled, half-sat up. His eyes were still that solid black, and blood was oozing from one nostril. "Ange…" he croaked, his voice unnaturally high.
Angelo looked at the Spaniard, almost recoiling at the sight of him. "What the fuck happened?" he demanded, his voice harsh. "What did you do to her, you sick bastard?"
"Ange, he didn't, 's not like that…" Manuel's body spasmed, and he abruptly retched, vomiting onto the floor. "Get… help… Moira… I can't…" Another spasm, and he collapsed entirely onto the floor. Under Angelo's fingers, Amanda's wrist jerked wildly, and her eyes flew open, the blue entirely eclipsed by the same eerie blackness that had filled Manuel's. Her back arched off the floor as she convulsed, and as she opened her mouth to speak, to scream, an arc of black power poured from it, spreading into a formless mass above their heads. It roiled and twisted, almost angrily, before dissipating into mere threads and scraps of shadow.
Angelo looked down at Amanda, saw her eyes were blue again, and she coughed weakly. "Manny?" she asked hoarsely, unable to even turn her head to see him lying next to her. "Is he… how is he?"
"He's fine," Angelo lied, glancing briefly at the Spaniard's motionless form. He was breathing shallowly, and the thread of blood from his nose was startlingly bright against his pale face. On the stairs, footsteps could be heard - help was coming. "You're safe now, little sis. I won't let him hurt you any more."
"He didn't…" Amanda protested again, but talking took the last of the energy she had, and her head lolled to the side as she slipped into unconsciousness.
"Angelo? What the hell…? Step back, kiddo, give me some space." Madelyn brushed by him, kneeling on the floor beside Amanda first, hand moving to the pulse that throbbed faintly in her neck, then gently prising her eyelids open one after the other. Satisfied Amanda wasn't in imminent danger, she moved to Manuel, avoiding the puddle of vomit. His vitals were stronger, and there were no visible injuries, save the bleeding from his nose, but his pupil reactions were sluggish. She pulled her phone from her pocket, hit the speed-dial number for medlab. "Hank? Maddie. Prep the lab, I'm bringing down a couple of customers. Both unconscious, one with signs of neurological damage, the other with multiple abrasions and bruising. Probable assault." She noted the state of Amanda's clothing, and didn't voice the rest of her thought. She turned to Angelo.
"Go get Nate - he can carry both of them without jostling them too much." Angelo nodded, and took off at a run. "What the hell have you two gotten yourselves into this time?" Madelyn murmured to herself once he had gone, shaking her head, monitoring their conditions until help came. Explanations would have to come later.
"Champagne, miss?"
Amanda started at the sudden voice - she was on a higher balcony level, leaning against the railing that overlooked the dance floor, watching the partygoers below swirl and tumble and spin like a flock of butterflies, or confetti scattered to the wind… Realising she hadn't responded to the question, she smiled at the young waiter in question (he was rather cute, in a snooty way) and took the offered glass.
"Thank you," she said, her accent anonymously British, what she called her BBC voice. She raised the glass slightly to him and took a sip, consciously not gulping it. No matter how much she wanted to, she wasn't going to get drunk and embarrass Manny, not here, not with these people.
The waiter gave her a mocking hint of a smile and a slight bow and withdrew. Amanda sighed and cast her attention back down to the floor, sipping again at the fizzy wine. It was very good, but then again, that was to be expected. "Come on, Manny, what the fuck's keepin' you?" she muttered under her breath, fingers tapping an impatient tattoo on the marble of the railing. Business was business, but he'd been gone for ages…
"Such a shame, that such a pretty girl be so neglected by her escort." The voice was one she knew, knew and loathed. Amanda turned to Alphonso, a bright, patently fake smile on her face.
"'Pretty', is it now? Funny, the last time you saw me you called me a whore." She enjoyed his confusion at both the sight of her - in her dress, with her face made-up, her hair done and with markedly fewer piercings, she was nothing like the elder de la Rocha's memory of her. "Still, fine feathers an' all of that."
"You called yourself a whore, my dear. I merely accepted your word, as a gentleman would." Alphonso recovered smoothly. "But come, tonight is a celebration, and there is no reason why we can't get along. Especially when my son neglects you so shamelessly." His smile was charming, polite, without a hint of any ill-feeling. "I would not let such a prize as you sit alone, waiting on me. I would parade you to everyone I knew, in order to make them insanely jealous at my good fortune."
Amanda swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, and had another mouthful of champagne to moisten it. Alphonso was playing games with her again, and she knew she was no match for him. ~Love, where are you?~ she thought desperately, but there was no response. He was too far away, she supposed.
"What do you want, Alphonso?" she asked abruptly, seeking refuge in rudeness.
He didn't deign to notice her tone. "Merely to pass the time. I so enjoy a good conversation, such as I had with your guardian, the charming Ms Wisdom. We spoke, during your disappearance. A very interesting woman. Did you know she threatened me?"
"Can't imagine why," Amanda muttered, edging away from him ever-so-slightly. The room had suddenly grown far too hot, and she gulped at the drink in her hand.
"I'll have to have her killed one day, of course, but in the meantime, an entertaining opponent. And very protective of you. But then again, you have that effect on people, don't you? Ms Wisdom and her odious little brother, that hulking incompetent moron of a mercenary Dayspring and his woman… even my son." Alphonso's eyes had hardened, although he retained that charming smile. "So much concern, so much care, all for you." Disdain emphasised the last word. "It seems strange that all this protectiveness be focussed on something so worthless, don't you agree?"
"No. I mean, yes. I…" The room was swirling now, and it was hard to focus on the man in front of her. "What d'you want?" she repeated, her words slurring a little.
"I simply want to know what all the fuss is about, Miss Sefton." Alphonso's smile was predatory now, the urbane veneer gone. He watched as Amanda swayed, the champagne glass slipping from her hand to smash on the floor. "Take her to my private chamber," he instructed the waiter who appeared at his elbow, his expression clearly mocking now as he looked at the befuddled girl.
"Yes, Your Eminence," the waiter replied, moving to take Amanda's elbow none-too-gently.
"And don't bruise her." Alphonso held the man with a cold stare, and he loosened his hold somewhat. Manuel's father smirked. "I prefer to do that myself."
***
***
Someone was screaming. In her head. Someone was in pain, in terror, and they were screaming, screaming like they'd never stop…
Manuel was screaming.
Amanda tried to open her eyes, to move, but her body refused to respond, drugged and numb as it was. A small whimper escaped her as she tried again, but fortunately it went unnoticed by anyone in the room. And in her head the screaming continued, the link stretched, grew thin, insubstantial…
The link.
Acting on a protective instinct stronger than anything she'd felt before, stronger than the pink-tinged haze the drugs were casting on her thoughts and reactions, Amanda concentrated her efforts inward, withdrawing back into the centre of her mind, her essential being, to the pebbled, wind-swept beach that was her mindscape. The beach itself was secure, unchanged, although a storm was raging around her, whipping the sea into choppy whitecaps. But the lighthouse, the symbolic representation of the link with Manuel… it was fading, the light flickering weakly, the stones of its walls becoming transparent. Here, at her centre, Amanda could think again, and a white-hot fury arose in her at the thought that someone was hurting Manuel, breaking his mind like this. Without a second thought, she flung herself at the light, her avatar speeding like an arrow through the stormy twilight and through the link, into Manuel's mind.
Manuel's mindscape was far less structured than hers - a series of rooms, scenes, moments. Now all that was being stripped away, the memories that formed the foundation of it in tatters. Already there was much that was gone, much that made Manuel himself sucked into the gaping void of dark energies that had invaded his mind. Amanda 'tasted' the metallic tang of magic in Manuel's mind, felt the darkness of it, and her rage exploded outwards, blue-tinged flames erupting from her form, solidifying into a shimmering wall of blueish energy between the rest of Manuel's memories and the darkness - her shielding spell. The shadowy blackness withdrew, but only a little, before inky tendrils crept forward again, reclaiming the parts of Manuel's mind they had already taken. One tested her shield, and the backlash clawed into Amanda's mind like a fiery talon.
She didn't have the power to combat this. Not directly. Not with her body incapacitated and her mutant power restricted by the amulet…
Another of Manuel's memories, outside her shield's influence, was sucked in, a fleeting image of herself, playing piano and teasing Manuel about not picking up after himself, leaving his music in her head… The solution came to her then, desperate and risky, but it was all she had, all they had; gesturing, she firmed up her shield before shrinking it inwards, leaving herself outside of it, but containing all of Manuel's remaining strong emotional memories within. Those of her, she realised, with another stab of anger. They'd left Love until last. When the shielding spell was a blueish glowing sphere the size of a basketball, Manuel's memories secure within, she shoved it back through the tattered picture that was his representation of the link, back into her own mind, where they would be safe, at least for now. That done, she turned her attention outwards.
~Trust me, love,~ she thought, not even sure if there was enough of Manuel's mind left to answer, before she closed her eyes, focussed, concentrated…
One breath. Two. On the third she opened Manuel's eyes. Looked directly at Selene.
"Time someone taught you some fuckin' manners, cunt," she growled, Manuel's voice forced to a higher register than usual. Her grip on his body was tenuous, clumsy, but she had enough control to reach out and shove his hand into the centre of Selene's chest, between her breasts. Dark energy crackled between them, and Amanda nearly lost her hold on Manuel's body as it jerked violently under the sudden influx of previously unfelt, unsought power.
The empath fell back, unsure of what was happening but not able to interfere - to his senses, Manuel was reading all wrong, a sudden, solid wave of fury and hatred battering at his shields where no such emotions should be. Selene herself was transfixed, shocked by the sudden change in circumstances, unable to focus as the boy - no, not the boy, it was the girl, that damned witch-child, wearing the boy's body - drained first her magical power, and then began drawing on her life energies… The brown eyes had turned completely black, edge to edge, and sparks of shadowy power rippled down his arm and into his body. Summoning a desperate burst of strength, Selene raised her open hands and blasted Manuel/Amanda away from her, sending him stumbling clumsily away.
"Selene!" Alphonso came forward, looking from the panting, haggard-looking witch to his son. His son, who had just pushed his hand into the Black Queen's chest. "What the hell is going on? I thought you said you could remove his memories, make him malleable to us."
"That is not your son," Selene gasped, grabbing at a chair back to hold herself upright. She'd lost too much energy, she needed to feed… The empath was in easy reach, and she clutched at him with her power, draining his lifeforce with a desperate greed. She let the limp body fall, and straightened, glaring not at Manuel, but at the Amanda's still body. "The girl's in his body, controlling him."
Mind reeling from the sheer amount of power she'd taken from Selene, trying desperately to focus it through non-existent channels, Amanda watched as Selene rallied, and realised there was no way she could win this fight. Not without losing Manuel. With two awkward, shambling steps - Manuel's greater height meant his centre of gravity was very different to hers - she moved his body to where hers lay, wincing at the battered condition it was in. What the fuck had happened? She couldn't remember, remembered nothing but Alphonso's triumphant, leering grin and a champagne glass falling to the marble floor, shattering… She jerked her attention back to the situation at hand - dropping clumsily to Manuel's knees, she gathered her own limp form in his arms, throwing up a shielding spell. The protective wall was black, rather than her own blue, and there were shapes that squirmed within its energies, misshapen, grotesque, drooling mouths and reaching arms, and flat, hungry eyes… Squeezing his eyes closed, she recited the teleportation spell she'd learned in Asgard, but never had the power to use, the ancient Norse syllables jerky and halting as Manuel's throat protested against protracted use at the wrong register. As she said the last syllables, felt the world begin to shift and shimmer, she looked straight at Alphonso through the dark energies of the shield. Through his son's eyes.
"Manuel's not yers any more, you ratfuckin' cunt bastard. He's mine, an' if you come near either of us again, I'll strip every inch of skin off yer fat stinkin' hide an' make you eat yer own balls as dessert," she grated.
Alphonso merely smirked. "I've been threatened by better than the likes of you, whore," he sneered. "You should take lessons from that 'mother' of yours. As for Manuelito… take him. I have no further use for him." Then the spell swallowed them both up, and anything else he said was lost.
***
The relative peace of the second-floor hallway was abruptly shattered as the air rippled and tore, a portal tearing itself open in a flurry of crackling dark forces. Angelo watched, rooted to the spot as two familiar shapes dropped from it, crashing heavily to the floor. Amanda landed limply and remained still, her dress torn, one shoe missing, her skin scratched and bruised and bleeding, and Angelo moved to her side, kneeling next to her and checking her pulse. It was there, but so faint it seemed it would stop any minute. Around them an alarm began to sound, part of Lee's security system picking up the unfamiliar teleport.
Beside them, Manuel groaned and half-rolled, half-sat up. His eyes were still that solid black, and blood was oozing from one nostril. "Ange…" he croaked, his voice unnaturally high.
Angelo looked at the Spaniard, almost recoiling at the sight of him. "What the fuck happened?" he demanded, his voice harsh. "What did you do to her, you sick bastard?"
"Ange, he didn't, 's not like that…" Manuel's body spasmed, and he abruptly retched, vomiting onto the floor. "Get… help… Moira… I can't…" Another spasm, and he collapsed entirely onto the floor. Under Angelo's fingers, Amanda's wrist jerked wildly, and her eyes flew open, the blue entirely eclipsed by the same eerie blackness that had filled Manuel's. Her back arched off the floor as she convulsed, and as she opened her mouth to speak, to scream, an arc of black power poured from it, spreading into a formless mass above their heads. It roiled and twisted, almost angrily, before dissipating into mere threads and scraps of shadow.
Angelo looked down at Amanda, saw her eyes were blue again, and she coughed weakly. "Manny?" she asked hoarsely, unable to even turn her head to see him lying next to her. "Is he… how is he?"
"He's fine," Angelo lied, glancing briefly at the Spaniard's motionless form. He was breathing shallowly, and the thread of blood from his nose was startlingly bright against his pale face. On the stairs, footsteps could be heard - help was coming. "You're safe now, little sis. I won't let him hurt you any more."
"He didn't…" Amanda protested again, but talking took the last of the energy she had, and her head lolled to the side as she slipped into unconsciousness.
"Angelo? What the hell…? Step back, kiddo, give me some space." Madelyn brushed by him, kneeling on the floor beside Amanda first, hand moving to the pulse that throbbed faintly in her neck, then gently prising her eyelids open one after the other. Satisfied Amanda wasn't in imminent danger, she moved to Manuel, avoiding the puddle of vomit. His vitals were stronger, and there were no visible injuries, save the bleeding from his nose, but his pupil reactions were sluggish. She pulled her phone from her pocket, hit the speed-dial number for medlab. "Hank? Maddie. Prep the lab, I'm bringing down a couple of customers. Both unconscious, one with signs of neurological damage, the other with multiple abrasions and bruising. Probable assault." She noted the state of Amanda's clothing, and didn't voice the rest of her thought. She turned to Angelo.
"Go get Nate - he can carry both of them without jostling them too much." Angelo nodded, and took off at a run. "What the hell have you two gotten yourselves into this time?" Madelyn murmured to herself once he had gone, shaking her head, monitoring their conditions until help came. Explanations would have to come later.
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[great log you guys, Alex just had to get a word in in sympathy...]