Logs:Eddy Rocked, Part One
Starring: Liliana, Bernard, Phillip, Walter, Scarpia and Corinna
Contents
The Night Starts
It's getting to be later in the evening down this stretch of the Tenderloin, on Eddy street. There's been a music venue at a cramped little night-club called Adaptor, and the walls are still humming with the pound of the bass. People are gathered outside on the second story porch as well as milling about in the street. Tonight's been the musical talents of Li'l Bands. Li'l Bands is a very-OK soundcloud rapper who is starting to get gigs, and tonight is one of 'em! Some people have just shuffled outside to get away from the sweat and the sound, and a couple of young men exit the club with a quickened pace, turning off the street to head elsewhere, eastward.
If you're in the club, it's a place with plasma TVs bolted up on wine-red walls. Their screens parade music videos full of titties, cash, and cocaine. There's a no-bullshit shots bar that faces the central dance floor, which spreads out beneath a raised and railed stage. The subwoofers and speaker boxes on the floors pull unintentional double-duty as cocktail tables. As Li'l Bands pumps up the crowd, a projector splashes the crowded interior with a lightshow. There's a haze of sickly, sweet-smelling synthetic fog that meanders out every time the marijuana gets too thick. The men are stylish and the women are dressed to the nines, skin-tight and dripping.
If you're outside of the club, this stretch of Eddy is mostly quiet, save for the hum and pound from the nightclub. The white noise of the street almost evens out with the music. The building itself shares real estate with an SRO whose blade sign glows with a film noir vibe, and a tiny convenience store is across the street, its lights on and illuminating the tightly organized hoard for purchase within. There's plenty of people out here, milling about, some on smoke break from the club, some on their way passing through.
Bernard sits outside the club chopping it up with a bouncer and some random patrons over a haze of weed smoke. He is dressed in a vibrant blue Dashiki suit with white trim, a scarf in monochrome strips that clashes with the other wise stylish ensemble and a big ol' stamp on his hand marking him a patron of the Li'l Bands show despite being outside and taking a break from the event.
Scarpia is an aficionado of both live music and of sweaty pressing crowds, and has managed to get himself inside in spite of the fact of his shabby coat and how he's wearing 'Lightning McQueen' wraparound sunglasses.
The bouncer, Pete, is minding the door with his buddy, Frank. The both of them are Black, and Pete's a sturdy guy with dreads that reach his waist, pulled and braided back. Frank looks like a propane tank grew limbs. The both of them are about 5'7", maybe 5'9", and as Bernard chops it up, Frank keeps looking into the windows. "Man, it's been a good haul tonight but I don't know what the fuck those three Asian dudes are here for, I don't like it." While the crowd is majority Black, it's not like there are only 3 Asian people total in the club: it's a diverse crowd in there.
Walter is also inside the club, wearing sunglasses against the annoyingly bright and flashing lights. He is near the stage, seemingly happy enough with 'okay soundcloud hip hop' and has a big old grin as he watches the set. He rumbles up to the person sitting atop his shoulders, rumbling, "Not bad! I should try, maybe I can do better!"
Corinna's inside the club, sitting on some random dude's shoulders and pounding one fist at Li'l Bands' beat. She's pounding a beer with the other. She's really pumping up Lil' Bands and the crowd around her, even though he's merely "okay" objectively speaking.
"You're so fucking hot!" she catcalls at the stage. Lil' Bands is not hot. If he's embarrassed, he's embarrassed though. Or he could own the compliment and take the self-confidence boost.
Phillip sits at the bar in the club, dressed in his trench. He has a drink in front of him, some dark brown liquor on the rocks. The Frenchman largely keeps to himself, but he fits in nicely in his fine outfit, a well-appointed suit that only peaks through his dark overcoat. Every once in awhile, he will cast a glance about the area, as if he were potentially searching for something or waiting.
Bernard frowns disappointedly at Frank, "Brah what the fuck? That's some SF PD shit. Those cats owe you money or something?". The man in the flashy bespoke sucks some air through his teeth the punctuate his disapproval. He blows some smoke rings into the air casually glancing at whoever has Frank's ire. Bernie boogies a little at the music bleeding onto the street continuing to socialize.
Liliana is inside the club, she enjoys the music scene after all and she loves the night life! She is currently in the mix of the stage crowd watching the performace and cheering along with the others in attendance.
Scarpia can't see the stage, he's too short. He doesn't care, with those cheap mirror glasses on and his avoiding the flashing lights it doesn't make much different. He gets swayed and pushed with the crowd, grinning.
"SF PD shit?" Frank narrows his eyes. Frank looks like if someone wished a refrigerator sentience and the goddamn thing became a person, but despite being built like he was summoned out of Minecraft, he has such beautifully curly eyelashes! "No," he shakes his head, "They don't get along with LB's brother, I'm afraid they're here to start shit."
Meanwhile, Li'l Bands is hot! So fucking hot! That's what Corinna says, anyway, and the man with the cheekbone-length dreadlocs still in their weird little shiny cocoon stage pumps his fist like Corinna and shows her what 'em hips do.
Walter surveys the crowd from behind his sunglasses, always at least a little wary. The lady he's holding up is no burden, and he seems cheerful enough. He shouts up at her, "I think the hip thrusts means that he likes you!"
Bernard "Mmmm"s a little at Frank's explaination slowly nodding, "Aight, that's real.". He cocks his head at the bouncer trying to express that he is not trying to add to his concerns. The man in the vibrant bespoke passes the joint to a random person hanging before looking around at anything at in the street that might look like a look out or a getaway driver. Bernie, an obvious fixture to the scene seems a little out of place regarding the local gang beef and it shows in the concern on his face.
Phillip glances sidelong down the bar at a group of men gathered there. The Frenchman's eyes linger as he studies them, dark eyes lingering for a few moments. Then, he takes his drink in hand and sips from it, looking back away. Most of the rest of those here are lost amid the throng of the crowd and music so he misses them for now, but he does glance back to the room, scanning it briefly.
As Bernie takes a look around the street, he doesn't notice a getaway driver, but he does notice a man in camouflage. Camo pants, camo hoodie. That guy is milling about on a smoke break next door underneath the sign advertising the hotel. His buddy is in a black hoodie and loose jeans that sag well past his ass. It's a mystery why because those drawers he has on are just boring powder blue, it's not like he's showin' the world his spongebobs or some other underwear worthy of being seen. Just blue. Anyway, the man in the more well-fitted (camo) clothing has one hand in the front pocket of his zip-up hoodie, and the man who needs everyone to know about his drawers has this little fanny pack on his waist. They look like they could be packing, and they stand with two other people, shooting the shit, occasionally looking over toward the club.
Corinna cackles at the stage and finishes her beer. She cranes down to set it down on a nearby surface like a tea bird. "Yeah, that's the universal sign for it," she replies to her _cheval_. She kind of kips up and dismounts, narrowly missing smashing someone's foot when she lands on her own. After a brief and easy shrug of apology and waving the dude off, she hits the biker solidly. "Thanks for being a ladder."
As Phillip scans the club, he doesn't notice anything off but he does get a good view of two white guys at the bar near him. They're rather intent on the stage, but they don't look like they're here for the music, because they ain't vibing, ain't bobbin'. They're just watching on. One of them's scanning the crowd with a regular sweep of his eyes, looking for someone or something.
Scarpia seems unaware of much of anything but the press of bodies and the beat.
Walter, after his little survey of the crowd, looks down at the lady who just jumped off of his very tall perch and suggests, "Go hit the head. Maybe find a stall and don't come out for twenty minutes or so. He makes his way towards the bar, and the bikers who are lounging there, giving them a wave, and asking them, "So whose fucking idea is this, anyway?"
Two Vultures Onlooking
In the club, the crowded dance floor starts to erupt into a moment of chaos. Yelling gets drowned by the music, but someone's shoving someone else, and it appears it's mosh time. One of the two bikers at the bar starts to stand. He's not exactly wearing his Hells Angel MC getup in this particular rap venue, but he's still a recognizable face to those who know his affiliation and he does kind of exude biker anyway thanks to the face tattoo over his eyebrow and saying 'NORCAL' on his chin where a goatee should be. He's wearing a heavy chain necklace and an SF Giants jersey with some light wash jeans. Zack doesn't look too much different in terms of vibe. But Psycho puts his hands in his pockets as he rises and when Walter's tall and familiar form nears he says, "What? I'm just snatching opportunity."
Liliana is having a grand ole time but she keeps her eyes open at least. She glances to the bar now and then, eyeing two men curiously for a moment before something else catches her eye. She gets bumped about a bit since she is a rather small woman but she seems to be moving in the crowd with purpose.
Scarpia gets caught up in the press of shoving and jostling, though it seems likely he wants to be there. He looks sort of ecstatic there, drifting where the crush pushes him, though he does turn himself to face the center of the disturbance.
Bernard taps Frank and cocks his head at the group milling by the hotel, "Sketch or am I leaning too hard into the vibe? I'm sure you got it brother Imma gonna head in.". He flashes a peace sign to the motley crew before making his way back into the club getting back into the spirit of the club rhythmically snaking his way to the bar.
"It's like that, is it?" Corinna calls after The Mountain. The question is rhetorical. She twists the jewelry on her fingers, looking disgruntled, glancing up toward the cameras. Then she's headed toward the door. She shoulders Bernard as he heads in pretty hard, trying to twimst him back around as she goes.
Walter looks down at the biker, and sticks his hands into his pockets, "This opportunity better not come at my fucking expense again," he tells the pair of Giants fans. "But as long as it ain't at my expense."
Gunfire!
As Corinna starts to move off, and just as Liliana gets into position to be the (ill fated) hero, the music starts getting a little STACATTO. The bass drowns out much of the report of the gun, but you can still hear it indoors, and the shot rings out with a muzzle flash that lights up the floor in a clap of brightness easily mistaken for a dance light. Pow, pow! Liliana's primed to stop the shooter that she spotted in the crowd, and her grip is lighting quick and ready to strike when she sees the man's hand pull up from his back pocket. In the ensuing struggle, though, the man whips around with a "What the fuck, bitch!" and in the press of a trigger, Liliana feels the surreal punch of a bullet. The searing pain is next after the shock, and the crowd fight plays out in slow motion from her adrenaline as the fact that she's been shot hits her.
The club windows spiderweb and shatter at the report of another bullet. It's one of the Asian dudes, in a trucker cap, firing in volleys as he bounces backward toward the exit (fighting his way through people). His buddy in a newsboy grabs him to drag him off, and night club patrons start to scream and scatter, with barley anywhere to go. Guns fly: all told there are four, -- no, six! Six men packing. Li'l bands drops his mic and hits the deck as his DJ cowers behind the booth, and the electronic music he was rapping to keeps on pounding. The two working bar tenders dive behind the bar counter.
And Psycho, true to his name, starts advancing -toward- the goddamn firefight, working fast, pulling out a goddamn knife as he seems locked onto the dude in the newsboy cap.
Mmmm watcha saaayyy~
As Corinna grabs Bernard, something lurches her forward. Her shoulder explodes (figuratively) in pain as the bullet lodges itself into her flesh.
Bernard beams when he sees a familiar face in the form of Corinna when she bumps into him, "Hey girl what's good?" he warmly yells seconds before havoc erupts. He shifts forward reaching out to steady her as some of her blood sprinkles onto the vibrant blue coat. There is something behind his eyes, i his pursed lips that suggests the seconds of violence have yet to catch up with him. As it all seems to hit him at once he exclaims, "What the fuck?!" before trying to push Corinna toward something resembling cover.
Walter has a big old grin as the gunshots ring out. He says to Zack, "Now it's a for-real party." He stays back with the Giants fan, though he's not leaning casually on the bar anymore, but keeping an eye on things.
Scarpia gets slammed back into the wall of people he's against, this time by a punch quite different from the earlier ones. It doubles him over for a moment and then he snaps back up, snarling, "Whoever is just shot me better look to fuck off fast 'fore I nail him up by his ears." It's certainly loud enough to be heard by those nearby, if they're not too busy making their own noise, but he doesn't shout. He pogos to get a look around and then ducks, starting to twist his way through the crowd towards where he thinks Corinna's gone.
Liliana is trying to look out for her fellow man, She's trying to be a good person. She needs to stop this boy for making a mistake he can't take back....She grabs his arm, she's doing great! and then the fucker shoots her. She stumbles backwards with the force after the bang bang and her eyes go wide. She stands there a moment, in shock and stares down at herself as if she were fine but then just a half second later red begins to bloom upon the front of her shirt and a look of agony washes over her pale face as the pain from the gunshot sets in. Teach her to try to help people! She stumbles backwards some more, trying to find cover.
Some people scatter when they hear gunfire but it is a sound Phillip is well familiar with. As the shots go off around the bar, the man spins in his bar chair and eyes the club as it erupts into chaos. He takes a few seconds to sweep the bar with his gaze and assess the shooters - the ones gripping the steel that everyone else is running away from. Should not be terribly hard to see them. Even as he does this, he rises from the bar stool and then pushes himself into a vault that seeks to land on the other side of the bar. Assuming he lands without breaking his neck, the dark-haired man's his hand dips into his trenchcoat and gripping the handle of his Beretta. He smoothly pulls it from his holster then drops it to his side so as to not immediately reveal that it's drawn.
"Time to go," Corinna says as she tries to usher Bernard in the other direction, but time to go was many seconds earlier. She's the one who must now be ushered as she catches a few grams of metal in her trapezius and bleeds it all over him. It's not enough force to shove her forward or spin her around; that's all hollywood stuff. But it does send a shock through her body, and she flutters her eyes in... pain? as she lets the sensation pass through her. She lets Bernie take the lead on their dance toward a booth or a knocked-over table or something low to the ground to keep the next strays from hitting them even more dearly.
"Your suit," she admonishes him while they're crouched there, high on adrenaline and the second-hand smoke of the club. Makes you say dumb things. She reaches up and back and tests the wound, wincing. That seems sane. But then she runs the red on her fingertips down her nose. That does not.
People Dyin'
"Arthur drops and we bounce," says Zack to Walter, as he watches Psycho advance on the violence. The man has a target, and it's the guy in the newsboy cap. The Hell's Angel can be seen by Phillip as he sweeps the crowd with his gun: man's making a beeline for someone like he owes him rent. BEEN owe him rent. And once he closes on him, he start stabbing. People screaming, running, a the idiots on the second floor are just partying hard like nothing's happening, the sounds from the DJ's set keeping the party going strong for the ignorant up there. As Scarpia yells, two young women in skin-tight miniskirt length dresses scream in alarm, and they get out of his way to try to go hide in the bathroom, one of them scrambling for her phone to call the cops. Phillip can also see, speaking of cops, one of the bartenders hitting an alarm button underneath the bar. Psycho gets his comeuppance for walking into a firefight with a knife: BAM, BAM! He's rewarded for all his stabbings with a bullet to -- well, hard to say in all this, but he stiffens up immediately, and then teeters right over, falling down right next to Liliana, as his blood starts to pool from the wound in his head. Of course, now Zack goes, "FUCK!"
Bernard takes as much of the shock of their tumbling behind whatever available debris they fall behind as he can. He lets out a nervous chuckle, "It's nice right?" a little gallows humour to cut the tension. Watching her touch her wound and smear the blood muttering, "Fuck." under his breath. Bernie scrambles to take off his scarf offering it to Corinna stating the obvious, "For the blood.".
The man in the blood splattered bespoke takes a quick peek around the makeshift cover and pulls right back in. "How you doing? You good to run for the door or do you want to hold tight here?" he asks in as hushed a tone as he can manage in the chaos.
Scarpia grimaces, his teeth bared unpleasantly and his lips downturned, a vinegar-taster expression. He's not particularly cautious; for some reason he wants to get himself to Corinna's overturned table post haste.
Corinna gives a little shake to her head and waves off Bernard's offer of his scarf, bright crimson on her fingers. "It's shallow, it'll clot soon enough. Just a little war paint." The corners of her lips grow out of her grim expression then, and there's a bit of a twinkle in her eye. Wild. "Could've been your bullet, you know. But I'm good. I just have to not mind that it hurts."
When Scarpia arrives, she looks up and reaches out to grab his nasty old jacket by the shoulder and drag him behind cover. But her words are for Bernard. "I'll run after you. Let's put some bricks between us and this."
Phillip Pulls Some John Woo Shit
Phillip takes one more second to scan the bar to identify his targets. He then raises his gun with surprising quickness and rattles off three shots at three different targets within range.
Scarpia is startled when grabbed, but does't resist. He says, "Hello, lassie. Si, you both better to fuckeeng run, eh?" He looks Corinna over, a quick glance, "You are no dying." There's a high sparkle to his eyes, and he moves to leave their cover spot, towards Lily and the shooters.
Liliana is struggling as the blood covers the whole front of her shirt. She lifts a hand to put pressure on the wound but that hurts so comes with a cry of pain. The big biker dude goes down beside her and she eeps and looks to that wound in his head, well his day is worse than her's at least. She looks around and seeing no help in sight she does her best to find the nearest form of cover, not caring what it is, table, chair, bar, dead body, whatever works.
Liliana's able to find cover and that table. The pain in her chest is bearable only thanks to the adrenaline and the instictive knowledge it's not over. More shots ring out and the building starts to clear as people run outside, but they're crowding those exit doors in their stampeded panic. Phillip, meanwhile, is dropping the armed miscreants handily. Blap, blap, blap!
Walter says to Zack, "That's two right to the brain. He's met his fate, and that means it's our time to go, kid." He shoves the Giants fan towards the door they've been watching, "Move!" he shouts, urging him onwards as he exits.
Zack starts to run up towards his fallen comrade to try and grab him in all this chaos, but he lurches in place when he hears 'Two to the brain'. "Fuck no! This wasn't suppose to -- fuck!" He's shoved, and out toward the exits he goes. "God damn it, get an ambulance, he'll make it!"
As Phillip drops three of the six, the gunfire seems to abate for now. Perception + Alertness rolls for a status update!
Bernard frowns at the rebuffing but nods nonetheless. He upnods at Scarpia not appearing to recognize him but Corinna seems to know him and thats enough for Bernie. He's about to say something before Scarpia wades back into it. Looking to Corinna, "There is no fucking way we leave with me ahead of you. Come on it's totally my turn to get shot." before cocking his head toward the door.
Scarpia simply bolts to Liliana, crouching but not paying much heed to anything else. He moves to slap his palm, loaded with one of his coat's supply of colourful overlarge handkerchiefs, over her wound, hard.
People are filing out and it seems the gunshots have stopped. So have the gunmen that were here, anyway. Seven people are on the ground, some of them innocents, the rest of them not. Psycho, his newsboy-cap wearing stabbing victim, and three gunmen with their weapons either still in hand or not far at all from how they dropped them when they fell.
The exits are still crowded in the stampede of panic, but one can muscle their way through. It's not an impossible trek outside.
Walter tells Zack, as they leave "He earned a good death." Obviously, Walter is not about to call for any ambulances. Instead, he drags the somewhat smaller fellow with him as he forces their way out of the club. If anybody can muscle their way through this mess, it's Walter.
Walter is indeed able to clear a path since he's a human (?) bulldozer. The scene outside on the street is one of chaos: it appears this shooting event spanned both inside and outside. The bodega across the street has had its windows shot into, and a streetparked car is minus a rear window, the windshield spiderwebbed but still barely in place. Not far off is the blue and red flash of impending cop cars, and the block is devoid of people, save for those who are literally running.
Corinna winces as she rolls the wounded shoulder painfully. She's distracted, but at the end of Bernard's sentiments she looks up to him. She nods. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but then closes it. Crouched, hunched over, she kind of... scrambles toward the door, looking behind her. In the fog of the battle, and the fog of the fog machines, she can't really tell who's where or how they are -- so out she goes, fighting the crowd with elbows ready.
The bar has cleared out quite a bit in the mess. Phillip pops out from behind it, his gun at the ready. The well-dressed man slides back across the top with a smooth move and lands on the other side. As others are heading for the exit, he's pressing forward, toward the dropped gunmen. As he moves, it is from cover to cover, making sure he's not just wandering out across the room. If anyone pops their head out to take a shot at him, he's going to fire back. He knows he has to move quick. The cops will be here soon and the last thing he wants to be is the only person inside with a drawn weapon.
Scarpia glances around as he tries to tend to Liliana, frowns, and lifts his head to whistle, clear and high and loud. It's familiar, usually sung 'Do your balls hang low?' but a few centuries ago it had that, '...take a flying fuck from Walter as you sail around Gibraltar...' bit.
Liliana lays behind the table with the others and thankfully Scarpia has come to help add pressure to her wound. Her face is pale and a mask of pain. She is working on staying alert, giving it her all and she mumbles out "There's a gun on the floor.. " her voice strained and a tad weak while one finger, covered in her own blood points in the direction of the pistol she saw. Her eyes move to the others as she watches Corinna and Bernard leave. She makes a "huh.." sound and just sinks a bit more into the floor, that sound all she gets out because h's are hard when you have a bullet in your chest. No more shots fired, ' bad men 'down.. she can rest for just a moment.
As Corinna makes it out onto the street and Scarpia whistles at Liliana, the blue and red flash of emergency response starts to clash through the windows. A Police Interceptor has come to a halt, another van shortly behind it, and the four SFPD officers are exiting the rear vehicle, rifles on their person. First the police, next the ambulance, but they've not yet arrived.
Bernard watches Corinna scramble to escape rising up for a second and looking over the scene he looks like he decides not to follow. Looking toward the cramped door he nods to himself, his posture seeming to express confidence in his companions ability to safely escape. He closes his eyes a moment, concentrating before rejoining the bloody mayhem in the club appearing to try and staunch any bleeding from bystanders he can now that the catalyst violence has abated.
Reaching one of the downed men, Phillip rummages through the dying man's pocket and grabs his wallet. He then darts toward another not far away, repeating the same. The second man reaches up and tries to grab at him, in pain and pleading for his life. The Frenchman ignores their pleas with a dispassion that is almost alarming. Then, given everyone else is headed toward the /front/ door, he is going to break for the fire exit in the back, keeping his gun drawn in case there is trouble.
"I saw eet," Jack tells Liliana, looking confused, pressing his hand to her wound and looking around through the fog machine murk. "Whose was eet?"
Walter knows a thing or three about avoiding cops. He makes sure Zack doesn't mess up their escape, especially since the cops will be busy with kicking in doors for the next few moments. But he still takes the Giants fan with him.
As for Walter, Zack follows after the man, although he's basically being dragged. He's in shock. "Dude, he can't be dead, this wasn't supposed to happen, we were just supposed to get him and go."
"Ambulance, ambulaaans!" The man says, reaching up at Phillip. He coughs up some sort of horrible sputter, bubbly spit-blood, a hand crushed to his chest. Phillip is able to head to the back fire exit. The back of Emperor Norton's Boozeland welcomes him in the dark.
"Fuckeeng fuck-ups," says Jack, working with his free hand to find another handkerchief. "Hey, Lily, Lily, Lily, you are right I think, ees done, so, somebody is running for doctors. Is soon even more noisy."
Liliana shakes her head slightly to Scarpia and says "I dunno.. i think a fouth dropped it. " She groans in pain but then says "I wanna get the fuck out of this building. Get me out of here and outside please." She asks of him and will try to struggle to get up.
Walter considers this to be a teachable moment, "Fear not death, for the hour of your doom is set, and none may escape it." He doesn't pause moving the guy along, but he does take a moment to find the right words, "If he is dead, then he died after slaying his foe at the hands of a second enemy. No warrior can ask for anything more."
Aftermath and EMTs
As Walter imparts the sage knowledge of a WARRIOR on Zack, who he shuffles away from the lights, here comes the ambulance. SFPD bust into the space, rifles at the ready. They're going to waste no time clearing the place, one of them stopping to briefly ask where the fuck people went. "The third one went out," Corinna hears, of a witness trying to tip in one of the officers. "Out down that way," he says, pointing down Larkin. There's some brief conversation on the police radio: 'I'm gonna get Alvarez to watch the door, you get your boys down Larkin, watch for crossfire.' Here come the police into the club, and some of them down Larkin.
Scarpia shakes his hanky out by a corner with one hand, then twirls it to make it rope up, his other palm still pressed against Liliana's ribs. He says, "Ees most likely better you are letting somebody carry you flat," and licks the corner of his mouth. "But no hurry, here is coming police, no need to get us shot again, eh?" He starts to work the kerchief-rope around her to tie down the bloodsoaked one pressed against the wound.
As Phillip heads down the back alley, the Ambulance rolls up on Eddy, adding to the visual concert of flashing blue and red. Two officers with rifles come around back, and he can hear the voice on the radio: 'Three Black men, camoflage jacket on one, black hoodie the other, green jacket the last. Two Asians, white shirt black shoes...' Phillip has the ~privilege~ of not fitting the descriptions, luckily, but what's he do as he heads down that alley? They're coming his way.
Meanwhile, as Bernard looks to people to help, there's no lack. There's Liliana, although Scarpia does seem to have her handled. Then there's that guy that had reached out to Phillip. "Help," says the man that Phillip cruelly just left to go gargle in his own blood! His voice is weakening. "Help, ambulance..."
By this time, Corinna's resting with her back against the gross-stained bricks of the Tenderloin. Which is not great for wounds. Unless you believe in the old 'shove some dirt in it' approach. On further examination, the bullet was just a graze anyway.
She doesn't fuck around with the cops and their rifles. They have rifles, after all. But she does have some choice words for Bernard's TREACHERY. Or chivalry? A constant stream of them which could be distracting to the nearby cops.
And if the medics come by her she's just going to wave them off. No insurance. America.
Liliana stops her struggle as she knows it will only make her bleed out more. She likes her blood where it is, thanks. She is growing weaker anyway so she just lays back on the floor. When Scarpia continues to put pressure on it, changing out the hankie for another. She nods when he says the police are coming and she closes her eyes,feeling the need to rest but she says "Don't forget that pistol is there..." but then says "I liked this shirt damnit." She just goes quiet now.
Bernard treats some of the wounded bystanders with poise and a sense of serenity disconcerting from someone who is clearly fucked up. His eyes widen a moment seeing a familiar face in the form of Liliana calling out to her, "Hey you ok?". Not shirking from the gore, just the opposite the stoner appears to have some sort of medical training as he reassures the bloody man he moves to work on in a quieter voice, "You're ok. You're going to be fine.". Without looking up from his charge he calls over at Liliana and Scarpia again, "Corinna got out, hopefully right into the arms of a paramedic.".
Phillip hears the cops coming down the alley from their radio and his response is an almost immediate shift in demeanor. He goes from Dirty Harry to Average Joe. He slips his Baretta inside his trench and then kind of wanders down the alley like he's quite a bit lost. Or maybe that he was just involved in an active shooting scene and was making his escape from not dying. Not panicked but shocked.
Indeed, as the EMTs arrive, once the police have cleared the club, they'll be shoving Bernard and Scarpia out of the way to put victims on stretchers and triage the wounded. Liliana's gory bullet wound gets her and the gurgle-blood man pretty much Disneyland Fast Pass'ed to the amblanz, short of Liliana rejecting the help.
Scarpia tries to make his way out by trailing after Liliana's stretcher and simply wandering off once it's loaded into the ambulance. He'd rather avoid the interview.
Liliana opesn her eyes when she hears Bernard's voice. "No, I appear to be leaking." She says to him with a pained voice but she looks to Scarpia and groans when he tells her she can't sleep. She wants to sleep dern it. But soon the EMT's are there and she is being loaded up and will soon be on the train to high town with hospital good drugs, so there is at least that high point!
As the police come around the corner, they pause at Phillip's appearance. Their guns are at the ready but they're kept down, not aimed at anybody yet, including Phillip. "Did you see anything?" Asks one officer, as the other covers the back door.
The EMT have de good drugs. Lord, you can feel that morphine wash from one side of the body to the other.
Bernard gets up and shuffles out when he can now that the actual medics are here. "You're gonna be ok!" he calls out to Liliana as she is wheeled away. Once outside he leans over resting his hands on his knees, "Fuck." exclaiming to himself once the fresh air hits him.
Walter, of course, simply takes Zack somewhere that he can pour one out for his good buddy Psycho. And he probably texts Tracy, or whatever, to meet them there so she can pick up her miscreant.
Phillip shakes his head, "No .. no..not much. Just some guys in the club opened fire. I .. ran out the back door. I didn't see where they went but it wasn't out the back door." The Frenchman leans against the wall as if to catch his breath. He does need it, but all for the ruse to get them to pass.
Scarpia finds some hidden spot where he can disappear more literally. Unseen, he can lick Liliana's blood off his palms on his walk home.
Phillip breathes for the act. They ask, "What'd they look like?" and gather some scant information before ultimately moving on and leaving Phillip out of it.
Phillip provides some fairly vague information that someone in a panic might note about a shooter. Tall, dark clothes, etc. Once the police let him move on, he Verbal Kints that shit and starts to walk normally again, straightening his cuffs to restore himself to his impeccably put together self. He steps out onto the street and after calling an Uber, is off into the night about his affairs.
Bernard stands back up after regaining some of his bearing he looks at the blood soak sleeves and shakes his head. Now looking as confused and lost as any of the other victims Bernie just wanders aimlessly into the night.
