New York In The Time Of Monsters - Central Park

[gone_byebye]

Ray took some time while Alex West was getting his weapons to step out of the Bar and run like hell. He managed to reach his destination largely through waving his Ghostbusters identification card around, but there were a few judicious applications of elbow as well- mostly because the simplest way to get there had involved going east a ways and running up Seventh, then turning again and worming his way through the crowds on Sixth. For all that he covered two and a half miles in about the time you'd expect of a normal human, he still returned to the Bar only a moment or two after he left.

Millitime is a wonderful thing, and he will thank the Bar for it later.

For now he's holding the door open in Grand Army Plaza. "We're at the southeast corner of Central Park," he says. "Fifty-ninth Street and Fifth Avenue. There's still a ways to go, but I radioed a buddy in the NYPD. He'll be sending an escort to help you get through- oh, here they come now-"

Bet you didn't know the NYPD used Vespa scooters, did you? At least, these two do.

Comments

[jokerswildwest.livejournal.com]

Alex did not know that Vespas were in use in the NYPD, but he'll take whatever help he can get at this point, he figures.

Stepping through into the future! doesn't feel weird at all, and he nods.

"Got it."

[gone_byebye]

They started using them in 2004. They look like this.

"Sir?" says the younger of the two cops, looking uncertainly to the newcomer. "I kinda nearly flunked my last marksmanship test. I hope you're a really good shot..."

The other one just rolls his eyes.

[jokerswildwest.livejournal.com]

"Let's just say that I've had lots of practice."

And certainly not on large museum escapees, but, practice nonetheless.

[gone_byebye]

The younger cop nods and gestures for West to get on board. "I have to go," Ray says. "There's people who need to get to the West Side Highway. Here-" He holds out a radio. "Call if you need us, for any reason."

He'll answer one last question, but then he's got to run again. Once that's done the police officer revs up the Vespa, and they head into the Park.

"We're trying to get everybody out of the Dalai Lama's audience as quickly as possible," says the officer who's taken Alex aboard as a pilion passenger. "People've been seeing all kinds of things loose in the park, coming in from the west side. The wolves are the smallest things anybody's seen yet."

[jokerswildwest.livejournal.com]

Alex tucks the radio into his jacket and then checks the guns as the officer quickly weaves them in and out of people and traffic.

"Stantz told me that we're shooting to kill here," he comments, looking up as something goes bounding past them, in hot pursuit. He's almost wishing he had a more powerful rifle on hand, but, the handguns and flare gun will have to do.

"Just how badly did you nearly fail your marksmanship test?"

[gone_byebye]

"Yessir," says the cop. "Orders are to assume that whatever it is, it's dangerous and probably rabid. Animal Control can sort out the mess later."

At the question (there's another tawny flash nearby) he sobers, and gives a number that's the equivalent of getting a 45 when one needs a 42 to pass.

[jokerswildwest.livejournal.com]

Well then.

"Just don't hit any people," a beat, "And don't hit me."

Something bounds through the park and the cop swerves a little on the Vespa at the sudden appearance of fangs and claws in front of them on the path, and Alex hollers for him to duck as he raises the gun and fires in front of them. There's a screeching yelp as one of the beasts hits the ground, and all it does is piss off the other members of the 'pack'.

"You know what, maybe you'd better just drive."

[gone_byebye]

The cop would ordinarily protest, but the older officer on the other Vespa- who's been getting off a few shots himself, and is a rather better shot- flashes Alex a thumbs-up. "All right," says the younger one, and leans forward over the handlebars.

He wishes he'd been a motorcycle cop,b ut he'll take what he can get.

Up ahead the throng is visible, sprawling out all over the Great Lawn. There's already been some shootings by the cops- Alex can probably spot some of the dead animals from here, as most of them are wolf-sized or larger. The living ones, though... those are another story. They're circling, considering the human herd and how best to charge it before it dwindles away through the few gates left.

Even the pigs look predatory. Although that might be because they're a good ten foot long, nose to tail.

[jokerswildwest.livejournal.com]

Those are really big pigs. Damn. When one of them falls in front of the Vespa's path, he braces himself for the skidding stop and then jumps off before they run into the still twitching pig-thing in the midst of the path.

"C'mon, don't split up," he yells, as he reaches for the other firearm and goes for the nearest tree he can find, to take both cover and to use the tree for something to jump into if he has to.

[gone_byebye]

The younger of the cops squeaks. The older one just shakes his head and moves to climb one of the trees himself. "I live in Queens," he says. "We've got trees in the yard. I get a nice bead on the target if I've got a branch to settle my hands on."

He punctuates this by aiming for the fallen pig-thing- it just started to stagger to its feet- and putting a few more bullets into its head. It drops as he reloads, and then a strange thing happens: the creature's flesh dissolves away in a shower of blue-grey dust, leaving only the pig's bones to scatter on the path. "Holy crap!" he exclaims. "Did you see that?"

"Uh, Hatch," says the younger cop, "I think that made the other ones mad."

There are three more of the pig things looking their way from a considerable distance. One of them paws the ground with a forefoot, and then the trio charges.

[jokerswildwest.livejournal.com]

"Up, up, up," West urges the younger cop, in reference to the tree and the order to climb. In a fluid motion, he holsters the pistol in his left hand while firing into the trio with the pistol in his right. The left hand reaches for the flare gun and he levels it at the beast on the left, firing. The puff of smoke and red streak as the signal flare shoots across the ground is enough to halt the one beast from charging.

The other two are still charging, and Alex stands his ground, emptying the clip into the head of the pig-thing and not moving as it lumbers closer...and closer...

[gone_byebye]

The younger cop scrambles up the tree with the speed and agility of a squirrel. Adrenalin can be a wonderful thing.

Closer indeed, and closer, and-

Some creatures are occasionally just a little too naturally thick-headed to realize when they've been hurt.

closer, and-

But nothing survives a head-shot that takes out certain parts of the brain for very long.

cllllllllllooooooooooosssserrrrrrrr....

The beast on the right runs afoul of the older cop's bullets about now. The lead pig creature's knees buckle and it topples, its momentum carrying it forward until it skids to a stop mere inches from Alex's feet. It heaves one last great sigh, twitches once, and dissolves in another blue-grey puff.

Alex is welcome to the bones if he likes. Some of those tusks are damned impressive.

[jokerswildwest.livejournal.com]

You're offering a tomb raider an archaeologist awesome bones and tusks? This is better than Christmas.

The empty clip falls on the ground as Alex lifts the gun to drop it, and finally exhale the breath he was holding. He grabs another clip to reload, then reloads the flare gun as well, keeping an eye on the lumbering, slightly confused beast that's still trying to shake the sparks out of his eyes.

He rolls his neck and has a cocky little smile on his face. Much better than statues come to life. Much more of a thrill. He's almost wondering what comes next.

[gone_byebye]

"Hey, buddy," calls the older cop from up in his tree. "You mind if we let Borgman here have a crack at Pumbaa? I think he might have a chance this time."

Several brown and grey creatures that somewhat resemble horses, but that look a good deal taller- seven or eight feet at the shoulder- are watching the scene warily from a safe distance. They suddenly wheel and run as something that could probably safely be described as a bear-dog erupts from under the trees.

It's running them in the other direction, which is probably a good thing, but it's within range if Alex wants a crack at it.

[jokerswildwest.livejournal.com]

"Go for it," Alex calls back, using the time given to him by the covering fire from the younger cop to raid grab a couple of the sharpest looking teeth from the pile of bones and the tusks, and slip them into his backpack and zip them up securely. If anyone asks...it's for research. Not bragging rights. Of course not.

There's a puff of blue grey smoke and a whoop of success from the younger cop as something falls to the ground and disappears, leaving behind a pile of bone and teeth. Alex swoops a hand down to grab a tooth for the younger cop, then pockets it and listens to the crackle of the radios.

"Come, Rico! Come [static] We have an appointment to keep at [static] Chelsea Piers!"

Alex looks up into the tree, then at the Vespas scooters, then back up at the tree.

"C'mon, guys."

[gone_byebye]

"I'm gonna stay here," says the older cop. "Captain's orders- I got a merit badge in crowd control. You two kids have fun, okay?"

The younger cop fires up his Vespa's engine and waits for Alex before zooming off to head for the least congested of Manhattan's north-south arteries.

[gone_byebye]

Central Park was designed with a number of natural firebreaks- the roads that cross the park, dipping traffic to a level below the sight of most parkgoers. Normally this is a very good thing in a park like this. Today, however, it's a problem. There's one such road across the park beginning on Central Park West just across from the Museum of Natural History- and it's proved very, very popular with some extremely large and ill-tempered beasts. Know how rhinos can get if something they don't understand moves and makes noise in their field of vision? Like that.

Those poor mounted cops. Their horses won't recover for months. Nothing really takes being charged by titanotheres well.

[autocommander.livejournal.com]

And over one of those natural firebreaks comes charging a huge blue-and-red robot, right at the titanotheres. His pace eats ground, steady and sure in the face of these creature. He does not flinch, he does not falter. He is Optimus Prime; he has sworn to protect humans, even if this is a different Earth from his own.

And just before his metal fist slams into one of the titanotheres, he cries out, "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

[gone_byebye]

There's a very solid sound of metal connecting with bone. The titanothere lets out a startled "GHWAAARNK" noise and falls over, landing a yard or so from where it began.

Oooh.

That's gonna hurt.

Mind you, there's others, and there's a number of predators making the rounds as well- but titanotheres are pretty social critters, and they've just had their herd order disrupted. Also? They're not real bright. Net result: they're standing around, staring.

Oh, and the one on the left looks like it's planning to charge the Autobot.

[autocommander.livejournal.com]

Prime would really prefer not to hurt them - they're scared animals, and not smart enough to understand.

But there's something else about them, too, something that disturbs Prime. And while he wouldn't mind trying to find out what it is, he knows that others are using lethal force. Humans are in danger. AND they're fighting these things. That decides it for him.

With a set of clacking sounds, the blade comes out. He takes a guard position, waiting for the one about to charge to come by. He's already worked out the path.

He'll feel bad about this. Later.

[gone_byebye]

The titanothere lowers its great boney head and bursts into a run, its movement as inexorable and as potent as the tsunami that follows the earthquake.

And as unable to change its course, even as its tiny brain realizes that there's about to be a very big problem.

[autocommander.livejournal.com]

It's straight in, and then just a little to the left, and the arm goes down and then up again, the blade rising up through the body.

There is the sound of metal on metal, and sometimes metal on bone, as Prime goes into full combat mode, his goal to stop these creatures as fast as he can, and move on to the next.

To protect.

[gone_byebye]

Up and down the edge of the park, New Yorkers are having flashbacks and pouring into the street in panic- and then stopping, and staring, and doing everything they can to get a good view over the wall around the park. This is within sight of Central Park West, you see. Many of these people've lived in these apartments all their lives. They remember October 5, 2003.

This... this is something else.

If he can spare the circuitry to pick up on it, Prime may hear the sounds of awed New Yorkers cheering.

[autocommander.livejournal.com]

The final titanothere falls, flesh melting to mist and leaving bone behind, and Prime pauses, trying to tune into the police band to see where he's needed next.

And for just a moment, he hears it. The cheering.

Morale, he knows, is as important as skill in winning a battle.

He retracts the sword, and gives a thumbs-up to the people watching him. And then he's off, for the next trouble spot, charging like a linebacker for glory, avoiding cars and people. (It's not polite to squash what you're trying to save.)

[gone_byebye]

There's cheering and shouts of encouragement from the civilians- and the sounds of sirens and the flashing of lights from the cops. They know an ally when they see one, and in a struggle like today's they'll take any ally they can get.

The police on the eastern side of the Park have been joined by someone else from Milliways, it seems, and he's going a long way towards helping them hold their own. It's down to the creatures on this side of the park now, and even the most aggressive of the bunch are beginning to fall back.

The stream of creatures is slowing to a trickle, possibly even stopping, by the time Ray's voice suddenly comes up on the radio. "Um, Optimus?" Ray says, sounding very much as if he's staring at something impossible even by his own standards. "I, uh... I think you might want to see this."

[autocommander.livejournal.com]

Another beast ceases having the analog for flesh it had, and Prime, remembering years of learning to fight (too many years he wants to think), takes a moment to make sure he's got things clear. And they are, as clear as he can get them.

"This area is secured. I'm on my way, Ray," Prime says. And with that he sprints down 77th Street to the West Side Highway...

...to find it utterly clogged with traffic. No vehicle mode here. But there is a center divider, and in a second, he's on it and running down it towards Chelsea Piers.