What Are You

amelia_icon.png paul_icon.png zan_icon.png

Where: Outside a candy store.

When: June 7, 2012; afternoon

What: A little street performance goes off with… well, a bit of a hitch.

Vegas is a town of endless amusement. More than just the Strip, as much as tourists think that Vegas ends there. A more business oriented street off the main drag of Vegas finds a lonely busker sitting outside of a local candy store.

The store has a Two Pounds For The Price Of One deal going on, which has led to a lot of hyper children running around.

His songs are upbeat enough to keep them entertained, his clothes just nice enough to not be assumed homeless, and his hat has some coins glittering within. From grateful parents, likely.

"No, /I/ don't have the information," Paul says into his phone, looking visibly annoyed but doing his best to keep it out of his voice. "The best I can do is pass the word along— look, I'll be back in the office tomorrow morning, can we pick it back up then?" He pauses in his walking, ducking to one side to get out of the way of a trio of boys as they run past: one with brown hair, one blond, one red. They could do a Harry Potter theme gag if it was a few months later.

"Time to get my own vehicle," Zan tells himself as he weaves through the bargain hunting crowd. Resigned to walking today, rather than take a bus or front the money for another cab, he navigates the sidewalk and the road usually less traveled. One hand grips the shoulder strap to his backpack, keeping it settled on his shoulder, while the other sits inside a pocket.

A brother and sister run a circle around Zan, so suddenly it nearly knocks him over. The busker laughs and loses him place a little, but picks it up again with the help of some of the near by kids. It's a group effort.

Over by Paul, the trio double back, the blonde and the red head seeming to be in some sort of argument with the brunette running toward their designated adult. To tattle, of course. But it may be too late, as the red head gives the blonde a firm shove into the candy store's wall. And when the blonde makes contact with the rough brick, he turns to glare at the red head.

And to everyone's surprise, a yellowish white beam of energy bursts from his eyes and smacks into the red head, sending him flailing back toward the street. And all those cars.

Oh, hey, someone that Paul recognizes. There are a few of those in the city, but it's always nice to run across one of them unexpectedly. "I think you might be right about that," he offers to Zan, having finally gotten off the phone call— just in time to see the kids bust out with something that is decidedly /not/ covered by the FDA label on those candy bars. "Aw, /hell/," he mutters, turning to see if he can go catch the ginger before he gets run down. At that distance, it's not looking good.

Quick feet and a rough hand or two just barely keeps Zan on his feet, and though he might like kids occasionally, he does give the brother and sister pair a brief frown. He looks up from them when addressed by Paul, head tipping back a little in a nod. "Hey," he starts to call in greeting, anything further lost when a kid goes flying past. Of like minds with the older man, though maybe a little more impulsive, Zan takes off at a run in the boy's wake once it's evident where he's headed. And without looking to see what traffic there is.

The music cuts off as the crowd turns to watch as the boy careens toward the street. His mother cries out, but it all happens too fast for them to move to help. But luckily, there are a couple of gentlemen more on the ball.

Paul zips forward, but misses not due to distance, but because a small blonde opens his eyes again and an energy blast hits the business man in the side. It burns and knocks Paul off his trajectory, too. Zan has better luck, but dose have to step out into the street to stop the boy from stumbling right into oncoming traffic. And since that sticks Zan a little too far out for comfort, there's the squeal of tires just before a metallic crunch as one car swerves away from Zan and the boy and right into a car the next lane over.

And, given the traffic, there's another crash or two, as cars going a bit too fast and following a bit too close try to avoid accidents. And fail.

Paul winces, clutching his side where he got hit, and goes down to one knee as a hamfisted way of arresting his own momentum. It hurts some, but he already hurt some anyway, so it kind of just gets lost in the noise. And with the redhead apparently out of immediate danger… that leaves his tow-headed companion. Another one! And about to get a /lot/ of unpleasant attention! Unless maybe— « This is a bad place to be right now, » he thinks to himself, concentrating on feeling the emotion as strongly as he can himself before willing it outward.

Zan twists as he grabs hold of the boy in the street, putting himself between the kid and the oncoming vehicles as tires squeal. And bracing for an impact that doesn't come. He looks over his shoulder when metal strikes metal, flinching at each crunching punctuation, though it's a full beat before he's moving again. His grip loosens on the red headed boy, pushing him lightly toward the sidewalk and his mother while he himself follows closely behind, watching the cars and trying to take stock of the situation.

You're damn right is isn't, is the thought that follows in Paul's mind. It very well could be his own thought, it feels so natural, but for how conversational it feels.

Out from behind the pile up, a pair of black-suit-clad people step out of a matte black car. A man and a woman, both in sunglasses. His hair is slicked back, hers pulled back into a tight ponytail. The man steps over to the little blonde boy who's giving off blasts, and the woman comes over to help Zan and the red head.

Maybe she's partial, since she used to be a red head herself. She offers a hand to the boy first, to help him back onto the sidewalk. He's crying, but she seems at least sympathetic enough not to tell him to shut up. She flashes a badge to the mother when she comes over, something proclaiming her to be Agent Miller FBI.

Ambulances follow, which the wounded kid and the kid throwing eye blasts around are ushered toward before Amelia turns toward Zan. Apparently, he can get himself up. "Why is it, every time there's trouble, there you are?" And then to Paul, who also is deemed manly enough to be able to get up himself, "How serious is it?"

Paul is totally manly. He must be, because a kid who'd just gotten scraped up like he did would be raising a fuss. It's nothing compared to what those two actual kids just actually went through, but— "I'll live," he replies, giving the agent a quick once-over. "Can't say the same for the slacks." There's a rip in the knee; they might not make it. "Everyone else doing all right?"

Zan follows the boy a little further, glancing toward the mom until Amelia addresses him. "Guess I'm just like trouble's Discover card, being everywhere it wants to be." His arms fold over his chest as he looks at the woman, brows raising slightly. "And to be fair, I can ask you the same. Seems like you're always knee deep in something weird or possibly dangerous."

"Yeah, but I get paid to be in the thick of it," Amelia says with a tap against her ID. Sure, it's back in her jacket, but he'll get the picture. She nods toward Paul, "This a friend of yours?"

She turns to Paul, an eyebrow reaching over her sunglasses. "The kids are getting taken to the ER. You two can, too, if you like. the EMTs will have a look over you, at least." Which doesn't answer how the kids are, but hey. Close enough. The crowd, at the moment, is getting gathered together for statements with her partner; most of them look shaken up.

"We've crossed paths a few times." Zan looks past Amelia to Paul, then to the kids as they're put into the ambulances. "I don't need another ambulance ride." Which, this time, seems actually true. "So what are you," he asks after a beat, looking at the woman. "You run with one group, now you're a suit and showing up where there's trouble happening."

It's a question that only gets a smirk from the woman before she turns away from Zan and Paul, stepping over to her partner and the witnesses. She addresses them briefly, but they seem to be heartened by whatever her words are, the shock fading into a bit of gentle concern, complete with glances back toward the boy boys in their ambulances.

But while they look better, she visibly flags. When they turn away from the group, her partner has to support her. Even though she waves him off, he's pretty stubborn about it and she eventually lets him with a heavy, long-suffering sigh. Whatever she is, she's not telling. But it's something.

He makes no move to follow, but Zan does turn to watch. A crease forms along his brow as he takes in the crowd's reaction and then Amelia's sudden slump. His arms drop enough to allow the other strap of his pack to be pulled onto his shoulder, and both hands go into his pockets after. He watches her and her partner a moment longer before finally shaking his head and looking away. It's definitely something he'll continue to ponder over.

She's got enough oomph in her to throw Zan a lazy, two fingered salute, but Amelia doesn't linger to help solve any of the puzzles. No, she lets her partner direct her back toward their black car, which… when it starts, follows behind the ambulances away from the scene.


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