taxonomites | [ visual | location: outside "sanctuary for all" ] [ open ]

Bruce Wayne has kind of had enough of today; while the world of Taxon doesn't look nearly like the (artistically rendered, he suspects) Doctor's looming apocalypse, it's still in a near-cracking state. The destruction of citizens vs sentinel robots, accidentally-detonated bombs, and his own creative use of the tram have left a notable impact. Still, there is more to come - but just how much more depends on all of them.

"There's no radiation in the individual bombs," he says, and he's walking, headed straight towards the Sanctuary building in downtown Osten. "The machines are there to protect civilian life, not the explosives. If you're still here and can't get to a safe zone or on the ship, stay as far away from any sentinel activity as you can."

Speaking of the machines - they're approaching, because he isn't stopping, and neither are the people behind him, whose shoulders or backs can occasionally be seen in his broadcast. Bruce is holding something small and heavy in his hand, somehow both calm and extremely annoyed.

"Unless you'd like to get down here and help break this goddamn facility open, because the Doctor is right here."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"All right. Good, you Verbena are useful motherfuckers, aren't you? I'm going to generate what's needed from the hatches before our ride shows up, give me a sec--" She should be back in a flash.

Since River's not going to be waking up until Sol is good and ready for her to, and they're about to be somewhere that'll have a lot more in the way of resources- he judges the bindings unnecessary and so while Trixie acquires her supplies from the nearest hatch, he unwinds his tattered shirt from around River's ankles and wrists.

So Dean's driving stylishly, and he might actually look kind of inappropriately gleeful as he pulls up--it's a nice car, shut up-- but at least he's there. Slipping out of the car, Dean leans over the hood, taking in the scene before him. Looks about right.

"Enfys was telling me you need a ride," Dean calls, lifting a hand in greeting.

"Well, it beats the Partridge family bus," Trixie says, appraising the car with raised eyebrows and a mildly impressed expression, while in the process of hauling an IV stand and necessary accoutrements back to the bench.

"All right, slugger, you take sleeping beauty over there-" Sol, this means you, we apologize for any bizarre sports-oriented nicknames and/or metaphors. "Mr. Driver, would you be a prince and help me with Morgana? I seem to have left all my gurneys in my other jeans." Not to mention she's got her hands full of equipment that an ambulance might have, but the Rolls understandably lacks.

"Much appreciated," Sol tells Dean, dryly, as he lifts River under her back and knees and ignores the protests of his own exhaustion; when he finally lets himself sit down, there will be an awful lot of not moving in his future. Until then - it's probably a while away - he occupies himself obediently getting River organized in the car. She, at least, has no injuries and can be safely propped up on Sol's lap while Morgana will likely need more space and precautions taken.

Dean flashes a grin at Sol, but otherwise ignores him, concentrating on helping Trixie out. Sol's got River, and Dean thinks the guy's gotta be trustworthy enough if all these people aren't protesting. Anyway, Dean makes his way over to Morgana, giving her a quick glance over to make sure he won't disrupt anything if he picks her up, and then, once he's done that, carefully hoists her up. She's not very heavy, so Dean can manage it easy enough, heading back to the car.

"I got her. Where am I putting her?" Dean calls over his shoulder to Trixie. That lack of a gurney problem is starting to suck right about now.

"Uhhh--"

Well, she assumes if the owner of this amazing car doesn't mind that it's being used to transport injured people, he won't mind her modifying it to accommodate that a little better. Trixie sets down her supplies, and starts preoccupying herself with ripping the back out of the Rolls to make space for Morgana and, if Sol chooses to put her back there, River.

She's pretty efficient about it.

Shoving useless cushions to either side of the back for the purposes of guarding the girls' heads against hitting anything steely back there, Trixie hops up into the back, drags her supplies in, and beckons Dean first.

"Here."

They've got the space, now, so he might as well; Sol sets River down in the cleared area that Trixie's just made and makes himself useful getting the supplies they have with them put in neatly aside. (Not far out of the way, just organized.)

"How far are we from the manor?" he asks, staying near River after, vaguely paternal in the way he guards over her.

-- Well. Okay, sure, just... rip the car. Dean would be more offended if he wasn't preoccupied with holding Morgana. Since he is, he doesn't say anything; whatever, it's not his car.

"Not far. Probably'll take us 'round ten, twenty minutes to get there," Dean shrugs. He'll drive like a maniac. Dean sets Morgana down in the back, making sure she's comfortable, and then heads to the driver's seat. He pauses, though, and glances back to Trixie.

"Need help with anything else, or we all set?"

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