Futuristic The Last Mortal Generation

[Ternunda Hunter]

Hello and welcome to ‘Last Mortal Generation.’
Please read this in its entirety before posting. Character sheets are required to join.

This is a near future style roleplay with a focus on socio-political themes. Set in the year 2056, the premise is this: a global pharmaceutical firm has managed to synthesize a drug that stops and to a limited degree reverses the process of physical aging. Needless to say, this is being sold at a premium, with only the most wealthy being given a chance to cheat death. Join us as we explore how the world changes when faced with a change that questions at a very fundamental level what it means to be human.

We’re setting out to tell a story on a personal level to the characters involved with this. This is a story about the people caught in the middle, not about the big movers and shakers within the world. This means we won’t accept characters that are heads of state, government ministers, regional congresspersons etc. Also, the world works entirely within the realms of what’s possible in reality, with the one exception being the eternity vaccine.

What we expect from you if you sign up is this:

• Aim to post at least once a week, circumstances allowing. We understand real life comes first but if people are consistently stalling the RP without explanation we’ll write them out.
• Follow the basics of RP courtesy; do not write reactions for characters you don’t control and keep any animosity between characters firmly in-character. Similarly, even the best detectives can’t tell at a glance what someone is thinking - react realistically with regard to how much your character knows about other characters’ motivations.
• You will notice many of the original writers (Hydro, Tern, and Quix) will often times write longer post. We typically practice multi-paragraph writing. This is not a requirement but we do require every post to be thought out and considered. Shoot for over 300 words!

Follow this link to the character sheet thread!

The Abstract:
The year is 2056. Over the last 38 years society as we know it has been largely unchanged. Smart products and information networking has improved the lives of most of the population piecemeal while the urban infrastructure becomes increasingly outdated - the ever-increasing rate of technological development ensuring only that civil spending will never keep up with what is available. In contrast, the gap between the rich and the poor has only become more pronounced.

Against this background, a breakthrough in pharmaceuticals leads to the greatest upheaval in recorded history: a cure for death. With the process of physical aging halted or even reversed, the super-rich are set to become clinically immortal. Following this announcement the owner of the pharmaceutical company and first publicly announced recipient of the eternity vaccine is killed by an armed mob. While the wealthy elite across the world queue up with billion dollar cheques to receive the eternity vaccine, the disgruntled masses risking being left behind as endless life is auctioned off place pressure upon their governments to legislate against the manufacture and distribution of the vaccine. Yet others resort to more desperate means still - either to destroy the vaccine or claim it for themselves. This is where our story begins.

 

[HydroXIV]

“Hello? Is this thing on?”

A metallic whine split the air as the microphone formed a feedback loop for a couple of seconds before a sound technician hidden behind the curtain fiddled with the settings.

“Can you all hear me? What about the back? Can you hear me at the back?”

“No!” Fletcher grimaced at the group of tryhard comedians to his left who had hollered back their facetious answer in near perfect unison.


Like many modern concert halls, the building was at the mercy of its sound system, the structure was all square angles and had a low ceiling, making it poor for acoustics without the many speakers dotted around the walls. The speaker might appear all the better informed if his concern was directed to the middle of the room. Actually to call it a concert hall might have been indulging the venue’s delusions of grandeur; the low concrete and plaster hall was lit with halogen tubes that hummed as they reached the end of their lifespan and the thin and threadbare carpet covered cement flooring that was cold and hard underfoot. Nonetheless it did seat around two thousand, without counting the coffee shop seating area that stood off to one side, and that too was packed. Fletcher knew well how easily overfull gathering places could turn volatile, especially with the kind of attendees that would frequent a cheap venue such as this. In spite of this he wasn’t concerned, in the few short moments that he had been on stage the speaker had shown all the charisma of a limp halibut and the detective doubted he could do so much as inspire a flatmate to put the kettle on for a cup of coffee, let alone start a riot.


“That’s good. So by now you’ve probably all heard about what’s being called the ‘Eternity Vaccine’.” Fletcher turned over the pamphlet in his hands, upon which the topic of the speech was clearly emblazoned; considering the big draw had been ‘social science undergraduate speaks on the evils of immortality’ that was a pretty safe assumption. “If you haven’t then I don’t know what rock you’ve been living under but can I go there? It seems like a nice place.” The detective grudgingly admitted that that might have actually been quite funny if it hadn’t been for the nervous peal of laughter that followed as if to encourage the audience. A small group near the front laughed; probably personal friends of the speaker.


“Now I know a lot of the media have been harping on about how no-one has the right to extend life in this way; how it’s taking life and death out of the hands of the judiciary - or God - and putting it in the hands of the wealthy. This isn’t going to be about that. I’m going to be exploring the consequences if this goes on unchecked.”

‘Great,’ Fletcher groaned inwardly, ‘amateur fortune-telling.’

“Our society is made to appear to reward hard work. You study; you graduate, you get a good job - that’s why we’re all here. But aside from raw talent what is it that gets people promoted if not experience? What happens when all of a sudden the people at the top stop retiring?” Fletcher was wondering if this whole function might have been better served with an online video, but a quick look at the face of the presenter where a few flashes of genuine enthusiasm showed through the otherwise ever-present rictus of deer-in-the-headlights terror allowed him to build a concise picture. Inept as he was at presenting this young man was enjoying his moment in the spotlight in a way that simply couldn’t be gained by talking into a camera.

“And that’s without beginning to look at what it will do when all the money is being held by the same people. Our economy relies upon this money changing hands and if the rich don’t die then that capital will stay locked up in bank accounts indefinitely.”


At this point Alex stopped listening. He read enough of the news to know that nothing was being said that hadn’t already been said by louder voices and to more influential audiences. That and the coverage of the salient points was extremely superficial. Denise’s research had been solid, as an opinion piece the performance was far too sterile to rouse the crowd to disobedience, and from how the energy was draining from the room it seemed a fair few of those gathered were disappointed by this. For his own part Fletcher was simply relieved; at least some part of today hadn’t gone to shit. It was because his attention had wandered as he made his way over towards the coffee shop that Fletcher noticed the doors open and four new figures enter late.


One of the key points to being an effective detective was to be aware of one’s own prejudices and biases and to be able to put them to one side, so normally Alex would discipline the sense of unease he might feel when something about a person seemed off. This time though Fletcher felt his instincts were on the mark - the group seemed to be dressed in a way that was too conformist for a gathering of politically conscious students and their friends or associates. Any of the usual quirks of appearance he might use to spot someone in a crowd were absent, none of them had facial hair nor did they wear anything brightly colored or have any tattoos or jewellery. Either it was an incredible coincidence or the four men had gone out of their way to be unrecognisable without being suspicious. When the four who had arrived together split up just a few steps inside the door Fletcher knew his instincts had been correct and abandoned his efforts to get himself a coffee. With good fortune he might be able to keep tabs on two, but the others he’d have to let go. His hunch wasn’t enough to act on, for now he could only watch how this continued and do his best to make sure no-one got hurt.

 

[Ternunda Hunter]

‘Man, is this boring,’ Pen thought as she wove through the crowd to find a seat. So many people showed up but the discussions she passed through were actually painful to listen to. If it wasn’t someone complaining about how they deserved to live forever and it ‘just wasn’t fair,’ then it was someone standing on their own pedestal to preach about how God never intended us to live forever. People from all walks of life seemed to be bothered by this Eternity Vaccine, but that last thing Pen thought about it was that it was unifying. Just look at this gathering! Protest! She hoped that the speaker, at the very least, was good.


After pushing through people for what felt like forever, she managed to squish into a seat between two huge guys that was damn close to the front. One the men was armed with nachos and the other with beer. They were alternative choices of enjoyment; she could get behind it! She engaged with them both in some meaningless conversation. The Nacho man wanted to talk about all his favorite nacho toppings and the other wanted to talk about his type of beer. He promised Pen that Bud Light was not his preferred beer. Much more refined tastes, apparently. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. It didn’t matter and she didn’t care. Carefully, she extracted herself from the conversation to watch and listen as a scrawny, uncomfortable looking guy climbed up on the stage and started cracking bad jokes. A single brow rose as she was among the crowd of people that scrutinized him and even started to check out mentally.


She felt the life draining from the crowd as he droned on, laughing awkwardly into the mic to cue everyone else that it was their time to be amused. It wasn’t working. ”This was supposed to be cool. What the hell…” Her complaint was a whisper as she ripped her eyes away from the speaker to check out the rest of the crowd. Were they all miserable? Of course, they were. Except those few in front of her that were being supportive.

Okay, she had to do something right? There was no way she was going to let this thing sink. The last one failed spectacularly and she wanted this one to be some version of success. Hell, she could do a better job of riling a crowd up, right? She was so full of it she was seriously considering scrambling up to that stage to get people going on her own time and effort. Not the most bashful person, sure, but she had enthusiasm.

It was definitely too late to talk her down as the nacho man beside her was forced to squeeze further in her seat so she had some leg room to cross in front of him. They watched her ek by before she disappeared into the amoebic crowd at the front. None of them were really moving but the whole group seemed to sway together.She muttered insincere apologies when she bumped past the lifeless and mindless before her arm was grabbed as she made it to the steps.

“What are you doing,” came a voice attached to that firm grip. A muscly guy with very short hair and a t-shirt on that said ‘Bouncer.’ She rose a brow, moved in close and motioned for him to meet her in the middle to talk. He leaned down and she gave him a charming smile.

“I’m going to make this way more entertaining. Aren’t you bored? C’mon, let me go up there. We’ve all heard this shit before. If we are gonna do anything about this Vaccine, we need to get people motivated. Shoving regurgitated information right back down our throats is just gonna make us gone home and wish we hadn’t wasted the time. Let’s not waste your time, big guy.” She had a soft pair of eyes that could look perfectly innocent when she wanted them to - a bit unnerving, actually - which made her that much more believable. Did she really think what she said? Yes, of course. But were her motivations pure? Did she actually want to make some kind of difference in the world? Questionable.

He gave her a firm up and down look before letting her wrist go. “Fine,” he mumbled before crossing his arms, acting like he’d never seen her before and like she was some slippery snake that managed to get past him. She giggled and patted his beefy bicep before scampering up to the stage.


The moment her steps made the floorboards of the stage wobble, the light in the speaker’s eyes withdrew. He turned to look at her, losing all manner of speech, and just stared with his hand limply grasping the mic. She marched right up to him, grinned, and ripped the mic from his hand and started speaking.

“BORING,” she blurted out while the guy was suddenly called to action, reaching for the mic in her hands while she ducked and weaved like a professional. “Guys, this is stupid. This dude is spewing all the same crap the news stations are. He’s not calling you to action, he’s not asking for your help or proposing a solution, he’s preaching to you! I’m sorry, but I didn’t come here to fall asleep in the sermon like I did going to bible school growing up.” She never went to bible school.

“I wanna see your angry faces, guys! Show me your angry faces. Your GAME faces! None of us are happy about this. Eternity Vaccine? That’s crazy. The healthcare system has always been a mess and we all know it! Treatment for even life-threatening diseases has always been unreachable for those that needed it the most, right? This isn’t any different. It’s time for us to do something about it. Do you wanna live in a world where a bunch of rich assholes live forever while we die of cancer and aids? I sure as shit don’t. It’s time for action! What happened to the world? When did we stop fighting for what we believed in, guys? We’ve got more than two thousand people crammed into this stuffy ass building and we’re all just sitting down, eating nachos, drinking beer, and listening to this yahoo soak up your attention. Let me see your game faces! Let me hear you scream!”

The end of her little speech was punctuated by the mic pointed at the crowd, an enthusiastic but serious expression tugging at the corners of her face. The old speaker stopped trying to grab her, the slippery little devil, and just stood in the middle of the stage watching like a kicked puppy.

 

[Quix]

“Do you need anything else with your coffee? Sugar perhaps?”
“Oh no thanks, I’m sweet enough.”
Like I haven’t heard that a thousand times

A sickly grin and Tyler was away, back towards the counter.
Whoever had thought it was a brilliant idea to not increase staff numbers for this - for lack of a better, more polite word - convention; clearly had more money than sense.
It was far too busy, the entire seating area had been filled, half by people actually purchasing items, and half by people who complained loudly about the prices for things they had no intention of purchasing.
What was even more annoying however was people were taking the little flags for ordered items out into the floor, which meant he had spent most of the last 15 minutes chasing people around a packed hall trying not to drop grilled sandwiches.

“Tyler, there’s some nachos to go out - I think it’s that dude at the front.”
“The giant one who looks like he’s already had about five portions?"
“Yeah, the giant one who has already had five portions.”

Holding both the dip and the bowl itself, Tyler used his other arm to brush through the throngs of people - as he did so, he phased out the myriad of conversations going on around him and focused on the speaker.
“Now I know a lot of the media have been harping on about how no-one has the right to extend life in this way; how it’s taking life and death out of the hands of the judiciary - or God - and putting it in the hands of the wealthy.“
When asked if he wanted to work today, he had put his name down especially.
The Eternity Vaccine was kind of a big thing, and it was difficult bringing up the subject with anyone without them spounting their opinion and shutting down any suggestion of any other way of thinking. That being said, Tyler hadn’t quite realised just how one sided the talk was going to be.

“This isn’t going to be about that. I’m going to be exploring the consequences if this goes on unchecked.”
Tyler pushed past a middle-aged man who looked up from his pamphlet and seemed to wince.
Apologising quickly, Tyler finally broke through to the front where he spotted the man who had pre-ordered his nachos for set intervals, sat next to a girl who really didn’t really seem to fit in where she did between two large men distracting themselves from what was actually happening in front of them.
Realising he had actually caught himself staring, Tyler startled himself forward before he became apparent, and as he drew himself up to the man, she moved up and passed forward into the very front.
He couldn’t help follow her with his eyes.

“Are they mine?”

Both items were snatched from his hands before he had chance to reply, and without so much as a thank you, the man went back to scoffing his face and ignored him completely.
Knowing that they really needed him back at the service counter, Tyler sighed and turned back toward the crowds with the intention of fighting his way back to the shop when suddenly a voice radically different from the previous speaker erupted from the walls.

“BORING,”

Before Tyler could turn around, he almost knew it was the same girl, her voice just.. fit.
He found himself listening much more intently now than he had to the previous speaker, even if her opinions came across more forceful and rash. She was riling up the crowd, and he was becoming aware that more and more people were actually paying attention to what she was saying.
Tyler bit his lip, and thought about steadily getting back to his job, but the people behind him had formed a makeshift wall of support - one that would show him as unsupportive if he were to try and break through. He had found himself trapped at the front, and quite noticeably the only person not cheering along with her words.
There was absolutely nowhere to hide, other than to stare at her - and pretend to be enamoured - which wasn’t difficult, beyond that, there wasn’t a great deal he could do.

 

[HydroXIV]

The two that Fletcher were tailing had been keeping to the back of the room. Amidst the standing figures who’d arrived too late they wove, making them difficult to keep track of. More troublingly, the detective thought he’d seen one of the pair looking his way more than once. Fletcher stayed on them, doing his best to keep an even distance between them both as they slid towards the left side of the hall. He still didn’t have an inkling of what their purpose was but the hunch on which he’d been following only grew stronger when one of the men pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times. Moments later the other produced his own phone, squinted at the screen a bit, then he too sought Fletcher in the crowd with his eyes. Both men stopped moving, seemingly resigned to just waiting. Fletcher didn’t need to see the screens to know what the message must have been: “I think I’ve been made.”


The detective relaxed a little; prevention might be better than intervention in this case. Even if it meant that the two walked away unchallenged at least they weren’t going to risk doing anything while they knew they were being watched.


”BORING!”


The voice cut like nails on a chalkboard all the more for being entirely too familiar. Fletcher gritted his teeth as his attention was inexorably drawn towards the stage where a new figure was expertly avoiding the original speaker while systematically stealing the show from him. In truth, with 49 years under his belt, the detective’s eyesight wasn’t the best and he probably wouldn’t have been able to recognise the newcomer had he not seen her face so many times before. Penelope practically had a second mailing address at the precinct by this point.


”Damn it Ms Lance, I do not have time for you right now.” he growled under his breath.


The detective had a decision to make. Penelope was a troublemaker but she was also a known quantity. The things she got involved in could at worst be described as criminal mischief. Compared to the incidents that Fletcher had been attending to just earlier the same day - which admittedly set the benchmark pretty low - the delinquant was a minor nuisance. At least he could be reasonably sure she wouldn’t do anything that resulted in loss of life. That wasn’t to say that she might not have run into the wrong people and got caught up in something more serious without knowing the purpose so long as it was made to sound like a good time. It also didn’t mean that she couldn’t inspire others to act dangerously without meaning to, and it couldn’t be denied that since she’d leapt onto the stage the crowd was getting far more lively.


Then there were the two marks, both of whom had pulled out their phones and were holding them up to get a camera recording moments after Pen had appeared on stage. What was their angle? They were acting very suspiciously to Fletcher’s mind, and most disturbingly they had the discipline and finesse of a professional outfit - plausible deniability was the name of their game and-


Before Fletcher could make the decision, his radio buzzed into life. He made a quick check of his two suspects, memorising their locations before withdrawing to answer it. ”Fletcher responding dispatch; what’s the situation?”

“Detective Sergeant, we’ve had a dispatch order for an armed response team to your location, please advise?”

”What!?” Fletcher exclamation broke protocol but he at once surveyed the scene once more looking for anything he had missed. ”There’s nothing here, we’ve had a stage invasion but that’s all. The usual suspect. I’m sure you can imag-”

“Fletcher, the caller said it’s a brawl; everyone’s fighting and there’s a fire.”

The moment the word had been uttered the stench of gasoline filled Fletcher’s nostrils. A quick three-sixty couldn’t reveal the source and he suspected he didn’t have time to find it. This time he didn’t hesitate to make the decision.

”Confirmed, dispatch. Advise SWAT against obstructing the fire escapes. Attendees must be free to leave the building.”


Too late Fletcher saw the third of the four men among the crowd, recognisable now not by his attire but by the bottle that he held in one hand. A kerosene-soaked rag, already aflame and trailing cinders down his forearm, was stuffed into the vessel’s open neck; and what the detective could only assume was petrol sloshed within. Time seemed to stand still. Fletcher knew his gun was clipped within its holster beneath his coat, the safety still on. Even without the crowd in the way he would never be able to draw and shoot before the molotov was airborne. So where was it being aimed?


”Let me see your game faces! Let me hear you scream!”


Of course. The camera phones were pointed at the stage. For whatever reason they wanted to capture this on camera.


”PENELOPE, GET DOWN!” Fletcher roared.


The molotov arced. It smashed across the stage and with a frightful haste the flames took; petroleum drenching the curtains and sinking into the floorboards. In but a heartbeat half the decking was aflame and most of the drapes with it.


Penelope had demanded screams. She got them.

 

[Ternunda Hunter]

It all felt uncomfortably slow motion. The feeling of basking in that energy was absolutely addicting. She’d never ventured onto a stage before but found, suddenly, that she was a performer to some degree. Certainly more than that dingus that stood beside her with a defeated, puppy-dog expression on his face. Her eyes scanned the audience as she wore a wide, briliant grin with both hands in the air in a victory pose.


It all reminded her of when she was still a young kid. She had a group of street rat friends that she usually followed around. But, one day they were fishing for something to steal. They wandered around the merchant stalls collectively for half of the day… Scoping it all out, eyeballing pieces that they figured were particularly cool. She had stickier fingers than the rest of them let on, though. So, when they reconvened to figure out what they were going to try to pinch for the night, she’d already grabbed a satchel full of items. The look on her friends’ faces was priceless. She saw their faces in the crowd. Grinning, hooping, hollering, and even a little envious. It felt great.


Fletcher’s roar ripped her away from her imaginings, though. That one sound among all the cheering that rang alarm and concern. Worry. Order. A quick flick of her eyes put him into view and then his words actually registered. Get down. She looked ahead of her, hunting for the danger that called one of her dramatically named nemesis to action. And then she saw it; a flaming bottle of liquor coming right for her.


Her eyes widened and she gasped. Her right hand dropped to the original speaker’s shoulder and she drug him down with her. He squealed and fell flat to his face with an ungraceful flail, immediately scrambling off the stage into the now panicked crowd. The sound of glass hitting the stage behind her had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on edge and she glanced back to find a rapidly spreading angry fire reaching across the platform and climbing the drapes.


MOVE! she screamed at herself in the back of her mind. She had to get out of there! The place was going to burn down and, the much lesser concern, the police would be around soon enough. The immediate heat was intense and she stared back at the fire, frozen in place.

 

[Quix]

A collective shout, an arcing object and a loud explosion.
Happy feeling gone.
As flames burst out from the curtains and towards the crowd, the first thought through Tyler's head was one of aberrant panic. He froze to the floor, the cold chill of fear juxtaposed against the glaring heat that washed over him. The second thought that hit him like a tsunami was a call to action. It was an automatic response, the result of adrenaline and neurons firing in the correct pattern to generate a fight response.
“This way!” He shouted loudly, gesturing to the front rows and the people cowering away from the stage to follow his lead, “Through here!”
The double doors to the side of the stage led through to a fire exit, and it was in everyone's best interest to evacuate as quickly as possible.
He was both focused and preoccupied, his eyes scanning for people not moving and ensuring those within his vicinity were not in trouble. He glared at a couple recording the chaos on their mobile devices, and fought the urge to rip them from their hands.
At least three others were pointing behind him and not leaving as instructed, and at this, Tyler span round. It took no time to realise the girl who had taken center stage had not left it. Was she stuck? Was she hurt? Was she..?
Tyler steeled himself and vaulted up onto the stage. By now the flames had engulfed the entire fixtures and the heat was practically unbearable. Ash and smoke began to hang lower in the air, and Tyler pulled his shirt up to cover his mouth to stifle the irritation growing inside his lungs.
He did not have opportunity to comprehend what he was doing, all he knew was there was no time for half measures. He squatted down next to the rebel stage-crasher and gently but firmly placed his arm around her shoulders. As molten cloth fell and cinders evaporated behind them, Tyler attempted to coax the young lady forward, to the edge of the stage.
“We need to go!”

 

[HydroXIV]

Fletcher could only watch as the flames engulfed the back of the stage.


A couple of people nearby had been startled by his shout and unwittingly given him a little bit of space to move into and he had used it to get a bit closer to the performing area, only to lose that ground a few moments later as the crowd recoiled from the burst of heat. Suddenly everyone was trying to move at once. The vast majority were heading towards the nearest fire escapes, with those who didn’t know where to find them simply following where the largest groups were going, however a few still stood rooted to the spot or milling about in blind panic.


The man who had thrown the molotov he had already lost sight of. At first the arsonist had been given wide berth by the people near him but as the panic had increased these witnesses had been replaced by others to whom he was just another man fleeing the flames and he had easily vanished into the flood of people. Fletcher therefore kept his attention on the two whom he had got a better look at, though they were doing their best to place themselves in the middle of the most congested areas as they rushed for the exits. They were giving Fletcher a clear choice, let them keep moving or try to take them to the ground in the middle of an evacuation. That was no choice at all.


With only a single backward glance to take note of the venue staff doing their best to get the less responsive patrons out of the building, Fletcher stayed on one of the men, following as close as he could. A grim feeling that there was a detail he was missing had settled into the pit of his stomach: why did his mark think that he wouldn’t just take him in the moment they were clear of the building? Had whoever had set this up intended for the four of them to be the fall guys and not told them that SWAT would be called? From what Fletcher had learned ratting out a client, even one who had set you up, tended to end careers in the underworld. Bodies left in burnt out vehicles were the most frequent follow up, so perhaps these four firestarters didn’t know they’d been set up. For Fletcher though it was an unsettling loose end.


The exit was drawing closer though, the flames and smoke left well behind as the crowd around the detective surged forward. He reached once more for his radio. ”Dispatch, I have eyes on one of the arsonists. I’m taking him down once we’re clear of the building. Notify SWAT.”

“Solid copy, Detective Sergeant, they’ll know to stay out of your way.”


The next moment he was out into the chilly evening air, floodlights blinding him from his 12 o’clock as a loud voice blared over a megaphone, drowning out the sirens beyond. “MOVE AWAY FROM THE DOOR AND GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!”

 

[Ternunda Hunter]

Penelope looked wild amidst the intense heat and orange glow. Her hair stuck to her sweat slicked forehead and her blue eyes stood out like she were a woman meant to bathe in fire. Though, despite her apparent calling to the cruel lick of flames, she found herself paralyzed by what she could only assume was fear. More of it had to have been uncertainty, a body locked by a swirling brain incapable of processing beyond the incredible overload behind her sharp, narrowed eyes. She stayed there on her knees, staring forward as people drained out of the building like a pool of water with the bottom opened up, certain valves turned so it could all escape like it should have. Like she should have.


A nearer than expected face and voice broke her unfortunate concentration. She blinked as she felt an arm around her shoulder, pulling her away from the stage. Glancing up, she saw a man she did not recognize, but she obeyed, regardless. Pen stumbled forward onto her feet, hopping off the stage and began to move. Obviously uninjured, though it was like her body suddenly realized the situation it was in and she began to cough violently. She pulled the collar of her shirt up and breathed through it, squinting through the heavy smoke that hung low in the air like a damning storm cloud that promised ruined power lines and torn apart rooftops. She should have, but the crowd-raiser looked up to see flames climbing the ceiling above them like wicked red fingers reaching to tear the place down.

Was this her fault? Did they want to hurt her?

It was her fault. It had to be.

If anyone died, it was her fault.

A scream barely eked out of her raw throat as a massive piece of the crumbling, decorative fixtures above fell with a loud crash right beside them. What a horrible combination of flammable trimmings. Perhaps that place wouldn’t have even passed the fire code before having an explosive thrown at it. The walls behind began to groan as they were so severely weakened, yet the pair of runners’ survival was in sight just fifteen or twenty yards away.

Pen was pretty sure that if they stayed in there much longer she was going to get sick, stomach flipping and twisting as she choked down smoke that just didn’t belong in her body. When they reached the door, she heard shouting. Amplified commands being barked over a megaphone, no doubt. She paused, freezing in place, again. “N-no no no. No, we can’t go out this way. Shit! Shit! They’re going to take me back to the fucki--” she began coughing so violently her knees buckled.

 

[Quix]

It didn't take persuasion to stir the girl to movement, and as waves of heat radiated from behind they both vaulted down from the stage with little ceremony. For all his boldness, Tyler couldn't shake the impenetrable feeling of dread that came hand in hand with the fear of death.
It was funny really; even when humanity had cracked the secret for halting aging, death was still as certain as taxes. It just stopped being measurable.

As they cleared the front row of seats towards the closest fire door, Tyler became overtly aware they would be the last to exit. Even what little security the venue had to offer had vacated the main hall itself. He glanced over at the service counter from across the room, but even that had been emptied. Half-filled latte glasses and various snacks left untouched on tables, haphazardly asplay as people had panicked to leave. He would have to find the manager before he was considered unaccounted for. Event agency work sure was eventful.
As if to pull him out of his daze, something large and on fire fell from the ceiling, narrowly missing his shoulder. Had he been standing still, he wouldn't have be standing any longer.
Not that they needed the motivation to leave, they both seemed to take it as such.

“Almost there.."
Exiting the main hall, it became easier to breathe, and Tyler became painfully aware the entire venue might not make it through the ordeal. He remembered every fire drill ever and how it was important not to return for belongings - but the thought of his student visa going up in smoke was way too much to bear.
As the sound of loudspeakers and noise from outside the building broke through the corridor leading outside, Tyler tried to turn to the girl to communicate his thoughts.
“I need-”
N-no no no. No, we can't go out this way.”
They both stopped, Tyler taken aback at her sudden outburst.
“They’re going to take me back to the fucki--”
“Whoa!”
Tyler lowered himself into his knees, infront of her, checking quickly behind him to ensure there were no others with them. As the figure on stage when the attack took place, it was obvious she would be swamped by authorities the second they escaped. His mind worked overtime, and without having to consult every if, but and maybe, plan retrieve was initiated.
“Stay here, I've got a plan.”

As quickly as he had said it, he was up and gone.
Never go back into building. Don't be a hero. What's the point in living forever if you don't take risks?
The main hall was filled with thick smoke, red and yellow hues barely visible any longer. Tyler ran from their fire exit straight through into the so-far untouched coffee bar. He had calculated in his head that it would take no more than 30 seconds to get in and out with his belongings; his bag and long silver overcoat he would not part ways with for anybody.
A portion of his mind spent unnecessary energy worrying about what danger could potentially befall the girl he’d told to stay within a burning building. But Tyler bit back by pointing out that should a fire crew appear, she would at least be rescued by a trained professional.
With coat and bag secured, the vaulted back over the low counter and hugged the wall back towards the exit no longer visible for smoke.
His concentration faulted for a second and he breathed in an entire lungful of ash, almost falling to the floor in agony. Coughing and spluttering he broke out into the corridor, the noise from outside increased in volume against the pounding in his eardrums.

Finding the girl still hunched in the corner, Tyler threw his overcoat around her shoulders, and ensuring it covered all of her, he squatted down behind her, pausing only to speak one last time.
“I’m sorry, but you're gonna have to trust me for a moment longer..”
He picked her up in a swift motion; she was hefty but not unmanageable, and given the adrenaline he had left, it wasn't uncomfortable either.
Moving purposefully, Tyler used his back to open the doors between the building and fresh air - finally breaking through into the furore outside.

 

[HydroXIV]

The detective sergeant had managed to stay on his mark throughout the evacuation. Bewildered and confused patrons were filing off to the sides as the same demand was repeated by the megaphone. Eyes stung by the smoke were now dazzled by the headlights of three SWAT vans and, more disturbingly, the barrel-mounted flashlights of several rifles. Just what kind of a picture had the informant’s call painted to have prompted such an over-equipped response? He could only hope that the man he was following would have some answers; speculating about the cause and motivation of the deception would only distract him from the matter at hand.


As soon as the crowd spread out, Fletcher made his move. From what he had witnessed in the concert hall he had little reason to believe that his quarry would come quietly but there was still procedure to be observed. It didn’t really surprise the detective when he got no more than half way through a well-rehearsed ‘I’m placing you under arrest for suspicion of conspiracy to commit an act of arson’ before the man attempted to reverse the grip that Fletcher had laid upon his shoulder. What did surprise him however was how badly executed the attempt was. At a guess he would say that the man had taken a couple of judo classes - likely several years ago - and had probably won a few early sparring bouts and thought he was hot stuff. What he hadn’t realised was that while his skills might be good enough to hold his own against someone operating by the same rules of a contact sport, he was woefully underprepared for someone actually willing to do what it took to drop him. Fletcher forced his way out of a cavalierly thrown grapple and with a sharp kick to the back of the man’s knees he dropped him to the ground.


“What the f-oomph” The arsonist’s curse was cut short as he tasted the gravel of the car park.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Fletcher retorted, reaching for his handcuffs as the man spat a litany of profanity at him, “and by God above I wish you’d use it.”


It took a moment for Fletcher to realise that one of the floodlights had come to rest on him and was not moving on. At first he thought that the officer holding it was keeping an eye on him in case he needed backup, until he saw the red dot on his jacket. The detective froze.


There are times when someone expects to be facing the wrong end of a gun and there are times when they do not. The incident at the mall that morning had been one of the former moments for Fletcher. He had heard the alarms, he had heard the gunshots and - once he had realised what it was - he had acted according to his training. The preparation and discipline had served him well. No-one could be prepared for the people they trusted to have their back suddenly turn their weapons on them. For a terrifying moment Fletcher didn’t know what to do; and in the following days he would swear an angel was watching over him, making sure that he stayed still and didn’t do anything stupid.


The arsonist was scrambling away from him but Fletcher didn’t dare go after him. The officer with the megaphone was speaking again, this time directly to him. “DO NOT MOVE! KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM.” Fletcher tried to shout back that he was a police officer, that he was making an arrest, but his voice was easily drowned out. His badge was in the left breast pocket of his jacket but he knew if he reached for it he was a dead man.


Grimly Fletcher wondered what the hell had gone wrong. The SWAT sergeant was meant to have been briefed that the detective was on site. If the dispatcher had screwed up twice in one day then that was more than suspicious.