gabriel_tam | (no subject)

"--and given the infinite possibility inherent in the futures of the children of every planet from Core to Rim, I'm certain you'll agree that they are our most precious resource, and as such--"

It's not that he's entirely blind to what's going on, far from it. Even as he progresses smoothly through his prepared remarks, Gabriel knows that Bajian Li's team is drifting through the fair-crowd and around the edges of things, monitoring everything they possibly can. What's more, he notes the figure moving down the center aisle, even as he notes Galadan's swift, dangerously graceful response.

He notices, but he doesn't acknowledge it openly; his smile is relaxed and his manner assured and confident. He's aware, yes, but that's why security is there in the first place. It's not the first time that there's been some minor threat or overeager member of the media, and he's sure it won't be the last.

"--we must do everything in our power to ensure that the work of centers such as this one not only continues, but is carried forward--"

fwoomp

The soft sound of displaced air is at once oddly quiet and strangely compelling. Gabriel looks out at the crowd, seeking the source, and his eyes widen sharply as his glance is met by a brilliant blue gaze.

(are you a man of faith?)

It's the sort of gaze that could see straight into a man's heart and judge it-- and it just so happens that he knows that the figure before him can do just that.

(what matters now is what you do next)

Gabriel stops mid-word and stares at Raguel, and as he does an unhealthy pallor comes over his face.

"Lăotiān, bù. Have I failed so badly a second time, then?"

It's soft, barely audible, and likely makes little sense to anyone who hears it, but one thing is perfectly clear.

In the face of this threat-- Gabriel Tam doesn't move, but stands perfectly still, as if waiting for something.

fwoomp

It's like turning on a light; all of Crowley's senses flare into life at once.

In a series of

thump
heartbeats, grey static resolves like

thump
grey clouds, parting on a sky of terrifying blue,

thump
and Crowley's already out of his seat, and moving.

He's not the only one.

There is a man heading down the aisle.

He has confederates.

There is something that is manifestly not a man heading for Gabriel Tam.

That one is alone.

Gabriel Tam, however, is not moving.

There are cameras, vidcrews, reporters--all of them getting this information out to Core and Rim alike.

Some things people in this 'verse are better off not seeing.

All this passes through Galadan's mind in mere moments, even as his gaze flicks toward River and her brother.

He remembers the footage of Beaumonde. He knows what she can do--and not the whole of it, either.

"River!" he cries, voice echoing the soft brush of his mind against hers. "Get your father out of here! Now!"

That last is not quite a growl as Galadan raises his hand, gathers his power, and sends the entirety of the hall and its environs into darkness.

River doesn't glance at Galadan. Doesn't answer aloud.

But her chin lifts in what might be a nod, and she's sprinting flat-out, ignoring the darkness and the shouts, running for the stage with never a glance down the aisle. Not yet.

If anyone could see through Galadan's darkness, they'd see her grab the edge of the stage and yank herself up in a leap and tumbling roll that's half dance and half judo and entirely efficient; it carries her to her feet in one motion, and she doesn't stop.

Simon's on his feet barely a second after River starts to move, and she's already yards away from him and still picking up speed, in a sprint he's only seen her do once

(my turn)

before.

"River--"

He starts after her, and only gets a few steps before the darkness falls, sending him stumbling.

"Dad!"

In less time than it takes to think it, Crowley's trajectory veers off true in the black. It takes him over the back of a crouching man and then onto the stage with as much ease - though considerably less grace - than River Tam.

Who he can see, in shades of dark, an aisle's width away from him and still moving.

Crowley can see in the dark, but doesn't need to, to see what's coming.

It (is - was - will be) bright.
So, so bright.
Fiat lux.
Let there be light.
It all moves queerly slow, for something happening so fast.

"Dad!" screams Simon, and Crowley swears he feels the brush of fingers passing against his jacket, before his arms catch River around the waist and his momentum carries them both under the dignitaries' table.

Most of those here opposed to his operation are very fast, even by nonhuman standards. Raguel is still faster. He takes a feverish moment to wonder about the darkness, sees the wolf (not a wolf) speeding towards him through the black, thinks blankly: Aha. Surprises.

He does not have time, however, to recognize the expression on Tam's face, the recognition there, the acceptance of what he sees as divine justice. If he had, he'd think it somehow familiar.

"Simon! Get down, all of you get down!"

More than anything else, it's his son's cry that breaks his paralysis. As Crowley and River go crashing by him, tumbling under the table where Regan is still seated, Gabriel moves-- blind in the dark, but determined. He stumbles toward the other side of the stage, away from his family, attempting to draw whatever fire there is towards himself.

The black wolf, red eyes blazing even in the dark, springs down the aisle, muscles bunching, teeth bared in a snarl.

Oh the shark has pretty teeth, dear

But even with Gabriel's movement (stupid, blind, fool), the Wolflord's trajectory remains unchanged.

And he shows them, pearly white

Whatsoever the quickly-appearing creature is, he will not harm Gabriel Tam.

Galadan will not allow it.

In the dark there are no shadows.

A rippling whisper, amid the cries, the screams --

Find River Tam.

River's shoulders hit the stage half under a table, and hard; her low, startled cry is buried under the hubbub. Crowley's knee jostles a leg of the table, and there's another outcry as water glasses overturn. One corner of the tablecloth begins to drip.

River doesn't scream. She writhes, silent and furious and intent upon breaking free.

"Gabriel!"

It's black -- it was daylight a moment ago and now it's black, and for a crazy panicked moment Regan wondered if she'd gone somehow instantly blind, but everyone else is shouting too -- that was Simon's voice, and Gabriel yelling for them all to get down--

What the hell is happening?, she bites back because she will not panic, she will not, and she ducks just in case as someone (someones?) crash in a tangle of limbs under the table in front of her. Someone's hip hits her shin and she jerks her leg back, and jams a fingernail savagely against the alert button on her security ring even though everyone in range must know what's happening already.

"Gabriel!"

The table is still rocking from the impact when thin fingers close, clawlike and anonymous, around Regan's wrist, and jerk her down to the floor beneath.

Crowley's other hand is clamped over River's mouth.

Raguel considers his options. The situation has erupted into general chaos, complete darkness, and there are unknown security forces tearing onto the scene - some with the unmistakable tang of otherworldly power.

No reason to rush the job, is there?

He crashes into Gabriel Tam, no longer grinning but concentrating a steely focus on his target that doesn't look much more rational.

Flashes of smoldering light cut through the unnatural dark, but nothing else; screams, calls, the sickening sound of tearing flesh are all melded together into a terrible cacophony before Galadan, nearly flying through the darkness, collides with Raguel and they roll away in a tangled heap.

He goes down hard as Raguel collides with him, and Gabriel feels bone crack from the force of the impact as he lands. He's dimly aware of the sounds of some sort of scuffle on the other side of the stage, of noises from the panicked crowd, of the rasp of his own breathing-- and far more aware of the mad ferocity of the hard blue eyes that hold him pinned as much as the weight of Raguel's body does.

And then in the next moment, there's nothing but pain.

Claws rip through his face, slicing down across his chest, shredding clothing, skin, and muscle alike with the burning pain of acid-dipped knives. Light flickers, and he can smell the stench of his own burning flesh-- shoulder, side, and somehow, horribly, much deeper within. He can feel it as the fire begins to spread through him, burning from the inside out, searing his lungs as he gasps a hoarse, wordless yell, choking on his own blood--

--and then the force of another blow shudders through him as Galadan leaps, striking Raguel and knocking him away as the two of them tumble across the floor of the stage.

Gabriel coughs, wetly, and despite the searing agony struggles briefly to rise before collapsing back to the ground.

Galadan can see what's being done to Gabriel, and hear it, too. None of that makes a whit of difference in his focus on obliterating whatever it is that is doing the damage.

Because now--now it is ridiculously evident that whatever has chosen to attack the Senator, it is no mortal man.

But Galadan has dealt with gods and the children of gods before. He will deal with this, now, in just as final a fashion.

And so it is that when the Wolflord leaps at Raguel, heavy body knocking the creature down and away, his teeth--sharp and bright and not yet bloody--are bared.

When that shark bites with his teeth, dear

He absorbs the jar as they hit the stage again, muscles straining to hold himself steady. His jaws snap shut, teeth digging into the Raguel's throat and holding fast.

Scarlet billows begin to spread

The taste of blood is heady, but he can indulge in that later. Now there is only the vicious shaking of his head, razor-sharp teeth rending and tearing what is surely fragile flesh.

Some pleasures are best ended quickly, after all. This creature caught in his jaws is more dangerous than most.

At the wolf's first impact Raguel's elbow goes up in halfhearted self-defense. It connects with Galadan's head but seems to make no difference whatsoever. Raguel grins and knees him, but it's too little, too late: Galadan's teeth are already at his throat.

By the time Galadan drops him, the stage is a slippery mess of blood and... other things that don't bear close examination. Raguel lies motionless, bright blue eyes wide and staring at the shrouded sky.

Regan stifles a shriek when she's yanked down -- get down, Gabriel shouted, and maybe this is a bodyguard, but maybe it's not, and she can't see.

One flash of strangely damped light reveals Crowley's face, and River's, and she sags in relief. "What's going on?" she hisses, and another flicker of light illuminates an audience roiling in panic and disorientation.

And then --

lăotiān, bù, that scream, that sound, she'll hear it in her dreams and she wants to vomit and she wants to scream too, because that sound should never come from a human throat, and she knows -- she has no way to know, but she does, she's certain -- she knows who's screaming.

Overlapping it, almost before, River screams; she was struggling before but she seems berserk now, and Regan should do something -- should calm her, should run to her husband, should do something to stop this, but she's frozen. Numb.

This can't be happening.

"Wait," Crowley grits harshly, as River twists beneath his arm like a wild animal, kicking and clawing at him in an effort to break free.

The sounds are -

he can shut his eyes, does - needs to, when River's hand slashes close - but he has no free hands, and there's no way, through the wet sounds, and the wolf's gurgling roar, and the crash of a fight, to block out

(hear no evil)
Wrenching River's arm back down to her side, he opens his eyes again, and when Galadan and - when the violence has tumbled itself far enough downstage:

"River," he snaps in her ear, and slaps her once, hard, across the face. "Listen to me."

River's head snaps sideways, and back to glare at Crowley in the darkness. There's a red blotch across one cheek now, and in the brief illumination her eyes glitter with tears and murderous fury.

"Let me go," she shrieks, and bucks in the demon's grip. He's stronger than her, and at least as fast, but they'll both have bruises showing soon.

"He's made of killing, I can hear it, chùsheng xai-jiao de xiang huo, let go!"

"I'm pointing you towards your father," he continues rapidly, voice hard and unforgiving. "Crawl, get him under the arms. Quarter turn right from there is towards the back of the stage. Get him down there and wait for me - do you understand? Wait there for me."

"If you touch anything wet on him, first thing you do is you stop and wipe your hands."

A pause; invisible in the dark, as Crowley checks the coast, then tugs River into his line-of-sight across the stage.

Low, implacable, and venomous, as his arm disappears from around her:

(do you know what the definition of a hero is?)
"No heroics. Do the job."

River has no bitter comeback; no acquiescence, either. No acknowledgement.

(Do you see us for who we are, and what we do?)

But Crowley's hands are off her, and she crawls.

It's too dark to see. It's too dark to see, and he's completely alone in the panicking crowd, and someone collides with him and they both go down in a confusion of limbs and some entangling fabric. For a moment he's thinking ambush, until it registers that the other man is half-sobbing in fear; he holds still long enough for the man to disentangle his coat and lurch away, and then pulls himself up to his knees.

The noise is overwhelming, seeming made of every sound of anger or fear that a human throat can make, from the birdlike shrieks of small children to the bull-roars of grown men. It should be impossible to make out any one voice in the cacophony.

Nonetheless: his mother's voice, screaming his father's name --

his father's voice, screaming in hoarse wordless agony, a sound that sends his mind reeling back to the Djose Temple --

his sister's voice, crying out let me go, he's made of killing, I can hear it --

Simon struggles forward blindly on his knees, trying to reach the stage.

Blindness is relative.

River Tam and Gabriel Tam -- what used to be Gabriel Tam; what now is something a lot messier -- are separated from the rest.

Time to make their move forward.