EVENT: Petty Crimes and Misdemeanors
Event-icon Who: The Sandman, Jim Gordon, Cover Girl, Orion
Where: Precinct C, Gotham City
When: Evening, 22 February
Emitter: Nightcrawler
Tone: Gritty

Arrested and taken away to the 9th Precinct, Gotham City, a lone, miserable woman sits in a wooden chair next to a desk. She's in her late 20s, looks as if she's not eaten three-squares in a day for a very long time, and dirty. And a mutant, though one would never know it to look at her. Her already scarred, old-looking hands shake as she asks, by miming, if she can have a cigarette, which is refused by the arresting officer rather gruffly. He's halfway through his career on the force, so he's lost that 'idealism', that 'innocent until proven guilty' mentality, and is taken on the mantle of 'getting the scum off the street'.

The first screamed words that came from her as she fought her arresting officer are decidedly Slavic.. Russian, perhaps? There's been a reasonably steady stream of them since the Soviet Union 'fell', but as per protocol, ICE has been called. She's nowhere in the system. Anywhere.

Having been given her single phone call, she hangs up the phone, looking both.. relieved and terrified all in one.

Primary charge, Prostitution with a minor Possession. With a Russian translator, it's made clear that she will be brought before a judge, and then before a customs judge. Normally, it's not a big deal, but they've started checking .. -almost- everyone.

It's then that the proverbial excrement hits the rotating blades.

A court judge is one thing, but.. to be deported?! And where is her keeper?

A call comes in soon after from the precinct. Fire! And they've learned, the hard way, that their prisoner is a mutant. Protocol demands that mutants are dealt with by a 'trained squad'.. which has been tied up north, in the Bronx, thanks to rising mutant crime there. Anyone else, so designated by the Municipality, State or Federal government would be appreciated...

The C-Street precint is on fire!

Those within are kept at a distance now from flames coming from the arresting officer's desk. Guns are drawn at the shaking, tired-looking mouse of a mutant woman. She stands, wide-eyed, repeating over and over, shaking a heavy black telephone receiver at any who may try to approach her, even as the black smoke begins to billow out of the windows.

"Ya nye pidu!" //I will not go!//

The interpreter is nowhere to be seen, what with the flames beginning to flicker ever higher. The alarms inside the stationhouse are going off, which echoes in the firestation several blocks away. Due to budgetary shortfalls, however, the sprinkler system has not been maintained, so...

"Look. We should at least check in and let the local precinct know you've been getting threats. That's the entire reason you hired my firm to protect you. But if you don't let the authorities know, then followup can be a pain." explains Heather to her corporate executive of a client who wants everything kept under the table. The usual concern that if word leaks out, stocks will lose value and yadda yadda.

"Let me at least go inside and talk to them, give them a heads up and then we can head to the fundraiser, alright?" That said, Heather steps out of the limo that pulled up just moments ago out front of the C-Street precinct.

"Ut-oh." she mutters as she looks up at the building and sees smoke pouring from the windows. Sure, odds are emergency services already know, but she says in to the driver, "Call 911!" before she's running towards the building.

Brandon's in his room at the university - a single, of course - studying for one of his classes. Which means, of course, that music is also playing since who can study without music? It also covers the sound of him tutoring himself on the subject. And arguing. "Ok, fine." he's saying. "I'll take your word for it that it's important for navigation but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Ahha! Saved by the bell!" He's usually monitoring the police channel and when he hears of a fire in the precinct and a mutant - a mutant! - who started it, he leaps to his feet. "C'mon, time to play hero." And get away from math for a bit. A flash of white light and he's gone, teleporting to his ship in orbit where he quickly puts on his armor. And then a second flash on the ground in front of the burning precinct when he appears in the street.

Dodds frowns over a crossbow he's trying to fix that rests on his work desk. A few dents still linger on the weapon, but there's been progress on it. Not to mention he has been building a second alongside fixing the first. With each new piece Dodds reverse engineers he makes notes before adding a new piece to the second. Huntress would be anger and he didn't care. A backup crossbow would prevent this situation from happening in the future.

Both eyes start to feel heavy as the weight of being up for seventeen hours started to crush his energy. With a yawn Dodds curls up in a nearby office chair little the slight comfort of the cushions take him to sleep. Reds, oranges, yellows, consume his dreams along with screams. People are scrambling, as they want to escape black billowing smoke that holds them back. Flesh sizzles and the charboiled smell practically creeps up his nose. Dodds jerks in his chair as the images flash across his mind's eye.

Police reports starts to scramble into the cacophony of sensations he endures, "All available units please respond, fire at C-Street Precinct. Please respond. Be advised, possible mutant attack." There is more to the warning but these are the only words he hears. Again the words echo in the sea of warm colors, "All available units please respond, fire at C-Street Precinct. Please respond. Be advised, possible mutant attack." And again the words go off and again.

When the report is said firmly as the dispatcher wishes to remain calm and profession, but is trying to convey the urgency of the situation Dodds wakes up thanks to the police scanner he usually keeps on sitting up high on an industrial shelf in his work area at home. He stares daggers at the radio because no one truly likes waking up from their sleep, even if a nightmare tries to keep them down just a moment longer. Time is easily lost down in the sub-basement that's free of windows, so the police scanner would often remind him when work needs to be done.

Sweat is across his forehead and brow, he wipes it away then gives radio an appreciative nod. "Time to go to work," Dodds says quietly going to a trunk at the other end of the room. Pulling open the heavy oak case he grabs his mask, gun, coat, hat, the sweat made out of the fabrics Huntress pointed out and tactical pants, putting each piece on quickly. The costume isn't as good as Batman's but it would have to do.

Living on the outskirts comes with advantages, like the privacy that allows Dodds to put on a mask and leave at all hours of the day without anyone becoming suspicious. Tonight he would see a drawback, the distance. Pulling out in his black S.U.V. Dodds puts his foot to the floor trying to make it into the city quickly.

Wining and dining with some of Gotham's wealthiest citizens was not his idea of a good time. However, what with recent developments in the GCPD's budget shortfalls, Jim Gordon was willing to do whatever it took to garner support for the upcoming Police and Fire Levy. While the event was being hosted by Wayne Enterprises, and featured, among others, many of the company's board of directors and other executives from around the globe, Jim Gordon was satisfied to lurk, simply providing face time.

The text message that reached his cell phone was a welcome distraction.

Quietly excusing himself from the champagne-and-sushi-laden wealth-fest, the Commissioner begins running as soon as he's escaped the wandering eyes of Gotham's not-so-finest, and is already shrugging out of his dinner jacket when he reaches the GCPD car in which he'd came.

"We've got to get to Precinct Nine, on the double!"

"Right away, Commissioner!"

The driver, experienced in his age, waited until out of the mansion's sight before firing the reds and blues. Meanwhile, Jim Gordon is busy ripping off his tie, casting it away with the flower, and reaching for his trusty trench coat.

"Make it fast, Nellis!"

The amount of paper in the station is remarkable in that it's supposed to be more and more electronic. The antiquated chairs and desk are starting to act like tinder.. and it doesn't help that the mutant has a steadying hand on a padded chair.

The young woman's eyes are wide in fear as she pulls her hand up, leaving behind a distinct hand print in charred leather, and it, too.. begins to go up in flame. Darting to the side away, the officers that are closer don't know what to do.

Orders are not to engage, but.. there are a few that have their weapons drawn, aiming down at the woman, but don't shoot.

"Get down! Get down!"

  • cough*cough*

The young woman begins in a coughing fit, but doesn't do as she's told. Instead, with phone still in hand, she begins to advance on one of the officers with the gun even as the handset begins to melt in her hand. Crying out, she drops it, trying desperately to peel the plastic off her hand.

Even as she begins that, one of the police officers makes an attempt to grab the woman, and is thrust off as his clothes begin to catch fire, thanks to a good shove.

Stop. Drop. And roll.

"Ya nye pidu!"

As for calling 911? Well.. there is the request for backup going out on channels. With the important bit of information such as MUTANT in the fore.

Well, Heather doesn't have access to things like.. the info of a mutant being involved. But to her, a fire is a fire. Mutant or not, it's all the same. She rushes in through the precinct's front doors and doesn't really do much waiting. Sure, she's in civilian clothing. An evening gown no less... an -expensive- evening gown at that. She was heading to some wining and dining event with one of Gotham's rich and elite. And the guy -had- to be fashionably late, maybe just to show off the arm candy he brought with. Who knows... but now she's here and she stops as she takes in the sight of what is going on.

"Is she?.. is the phone?... How are.." Heather's brain is quick but this is a twist she was -not- prepared for. Her blue eyes flicker towards the wall and she grabs the bright red fire extinguisher in the excitement, aims, pulls pin, and squeezes the firing trigger. Lets hope this works, or at least puts out the officer who just ignited. She even recalls her training.. aim low, sweep side to side. So the woman's feet are first fired at.

"Ma'am! Stop! Drop! and Roll!" she calls out. She's still not really registering that the woman may be the -source- of the flames. As far as she can tell, she might be a victim.... so of course she's looking for anyone who may have -set- such a fire in an effort to distract folks.

Orion's armor isn't quite as form fitting as, say, Batman's. It gives the impresson of being a bit bulkier than what the Bat family tends to wear. And the reason now becomes clear to anyone watching: while his visor leaves the lower half of his face exposed, the sides of his helmet begin to extend forward and down until it seals and locks in place. "This is Orion." he broadcasts on the police band. "I'm on scene at the burning precinct. I'd appreciate not being fired on, you know? So chill, dudes." He walks into the precinct, slipping his baton out of its holster and pausing to take stock of what's happening.

Dodds opens his glove compartment pulling out extra clips for the gas gun. Fires do one of two things to people: Binds them together with a common enemy or it does the complete opposite, creates subtle chaos as a lot of people are watching the fire instead of store fronts. Since a police building is burning he presumes it will be more of the latter. Luckily most of the police are distracted by a station and the safety of brothers in arms most miss the black S.U.V. speeding into the city. The tint on his windows gives anyone looking in it's just a guy with a hat driving.

Taking a side street Dodds parks three blocks away then begins to hustle on foot. Cops and other officials would be sealing off the area soon; vigilantes have a weird effect on police to boot. The ethics behind whether they're a good thing or a bad thing could keep every officer debating with one another for weeks. Sneaking toward the back of the building is key, less uniforms to gas just make it inside.

Working as a vigilante gives anyone a new understand of all the twists and turns to their home turf. For once Dodds is truly thankful for all the lectures H gave him about "Knowing your surroundings." Plus it also helps when your destination is causing deep orange colors to stain the sky along with black piers of smoky death.

The police chatter is certainly difficult to pick through, but Gordon knew all of the frequencies by heart. Reaching over to the console, he begins filtering out the emergency channels, specifically locking in on broadcasts from the 9th Precinct. After a few moments, he triggers the transmitter on the car's walkie.

"9th Precinct, this is Commissioner Gordon. Code Zero-Seven-Zero-Niner. Repeat, this is Commissioner Jim Gordon. Code Zero-Seven-Zero-Niner."

Of anyone in the force, Jim was no stranger to unique situations. Codes 0705 through 0709 were specifically designed by the Commissioner as a contingency protocol for mutant and meta-human apprehensions. In this instance, the procedure for Code 0709 was clear - the detainee is to be released and monitored, if no way to assist the detainee is clear and viable.

"Code 0709! Mutant Contingency!" calls one of the officers nearby the blaze. "Open the doors, back off, we're letting her go!"

"Bullshit!" spits one of the officers, whose best friend just went up in a blaze. "This bitch is going down!" He levels his sidearm and takes aim.

"Damnit, Morrison, this comes from Gordon himself! You want to lose your job and face charges?"

"I don't care," growls Officer Morrison. "I'm not letting this Ruskie-"

Suddenly, Officer Chan is grabbing Officer Morrison by the arm, having taken him by surprise. With the flames as their backdrop, the two officers struggle with each other until the firearm goes off, piercing the ceiling and smashing a coffee cup on the main office floor above.

Back in the squad car carrying Officer Nellis and Commisioner Gordon, both men look to the radio in surprise. "Was that gunfire?" asks Gordon, while Nellis hits the accelerator and bends around the curve into District 9. Only four more blocks to the station... fire trucks are even visible in the near distance!

Grabbing the radio again, Gordon offers a scowl. He's going to take so much heat for this. "All units, -do not- fire on Orion. Repeat, -do not fire- on Orion!" Clicking off the receiver, he sighs. "Christ, this is not the time for our boys to get hot about -masks-."

The backup is beginning to appear, the perimeter only now beginning to be even vaguely secured. The fire-trucks are on the approach.

Inside, the drawn looking woman stares at Heather with wide eyes, and her head begins to shake, her movements taking her back and away from the fire, deeper into the precinct. There's got to be a way out the back!

"That's her!"

For every sweep of the fire extinguisher, which Heather is lucky to find one that hasn't quite expired yet, there are smaller fires creeping in as the mutant finds a steadying hold on a corkboard, on a desk..

For all that some of the officers are now beginning to leave the station, others, with guns drawn, are beginning to move down the hall, following the girl, their arms raised as they cover their nose and mouths with sleeves.

"Catch her!"

"With what?"

"Orion," comes from within. A desk sergeant. "Damn mutie. Freaked out when we told her that she was gonna get her ass tossed outta the country." Though, when the order comes in to let her go? "Stand down!!"



The moment the officers hear shots fired, their fingers squeeze off a couple of rounds at the woman that is retreating; they'll claim later that they never heard the order. One shot. Two.. and the lead virtually melts upon the back of the intended target. She cries out in pain, but there is no blood, and stumbles forward, her scarred hands causing those small, kindling fires as she rises and supports herself. Turning back, the 'Russian' has the look of a deer in the headlights, and lunges for the weapon that was just discharged, effectively heating up a good portion of it, melting some of the plastic before wiping her hands on the wall.. and now.. she turns to run for the back that she knows MUST be there. Unknowingly towards Dodds.

At first, Heather thinks she's starting to get things under control. Oh lord, why she'd think that... then comes the radio chatter and she hears... mutant... let go... stand down... and that's when it hits her. She looks over her shoulder at the cop who wanted to shoot the woman and is already in motion, surging into the line of fire as the second cop restrains the guy. "Hey!" screams Heather ... more like a screech.

"Good job Gomer!" And then other shots come in and of course, those few strike the heat shield of the woman, but Heather stupidly went into bodyguard mode. Of course, this means that one of the shots catches her in the abdomen but the bullet is a through and through, melting on that shield too.

"Damnit! This dress was expensive!" she yells before she does her best to break a trail for the woman, "Incoming! Out of the way! Look out!" calls Heather as she proceeds to bleed and heal. Nice job if you can get it, healing fast that is.

"Oh, hey Commish. How you doing?" Orion transmits. "Why are your officers fighting each other? And I'm the one in the white armor, boys and girls." His words are also being broadcast outside his armor via speakers. "Commish, if you ordered your guys to stand down, some of them aren't. In fact, they're making matters worse. You want to get a translator here too. She's panicing." And he doesn't speak most Earth languages.

Dodds eventually makes it to the building and is stunned to see most officers let him through. One did draw his weapon upon Dodds but a simple, "I'm here to help," is enough to get him to stand down. Maybe it's the way his gold mask gleams against the fire or the gas-gun that looks like nothing on record in any weapons databank, who knows. Either way the police let him by.

"Fire's pretty bad," one officer says.

Pointing to his mask Dodds replies, "Air filters." They wouldn't work as good as a fireman's mask with the built in oxygen supply but it is MUCH better than going in with nothing to help kill the smoke problem.

Each step is taken with caution as Dodds has his gas gun at the ready just in case.

The reports that come in are garbled, but the message from Orion comes in safe and sound. Even though Officer Nellis is eyeing Gordon ubiquitously, he disregards the driving officer's looks and replies over the radio. "Orion, tell those officers that -shooting- at the subject won't help. Dispatch, I need this under control now!"

"All units, cease fire," transmits Dispatch. "Repeat, all units, District 9, cease fire."

"She's a mutant, dammit," vents Gordon off radio to his driver. "Doesn't -anybody- read my reports? The worst thing they need to be doing is scaring her."

With District 9 only a block away, the car begins to slow. It weaves its way through the arriving cars and fire trucks, and eventually, Gordon's frustration gets the best of him. "Alright, stop the car."

It's still moving when he jumps out, leaving the trench coat behind, and goes bolting for the front doors of the Precinct HQ.

The fire is actually catching now, the booking area is almost completely caught as the flames climb the walls, licking at the window frames, using it as fuel.

Though, how could anyone make matters worse? Well.. they were in the middle of the paperwork to arrest the mutie for prostitution and drug possession when she realized that she could very well be on the fast track back to the Ukraine.

"The interpreter's out here," comes over the radio from the front. "Says the woman's Ukrainian.. refuses to speak Russian." While the differences in the language are difficult to discern by outsiders, there is a whole history between them. Social and political.

Inside the building now, Heather's running to 'take point' as it were, looking all the world as if she's running interference for the prisoner, heading down the back corridor where she will be coming nose to nose with the entering Dodd. "Shcho?" The mutant looks.. puzzled, but is more than willing to keep going, even as she sees bright red holes appear on Heather's dress. There's a squeal of fear, but as the other woman doesn't fall, well..

And there, just beyond in the corridor, looks as if there is freedom.


Only to have it yanked away at the last moment. She stops short, staring at Dodd from the short distance.. and screams!

Her cobalt blue dress fairly damaged by the time she reaches the back doors, Heather is about ready to kick the door open. She'd rather break the lock than be trapped in here with a panicked firestarter and then. Oh look, a mask. Um... sometimes it's hard to tell who the good guys and the bad guys are. Heather didn't bring her scorecard, and she really doesn't spend a lot of time in Gotham.

But she's not in costume, just in a dress and such. But she's rushing forward, but suddenly tries to skid to a stop as she sees the mask and that large barrelled weapon. "Oh cr..." she starts to say before the woman slams into her from behind. This is going to be -quite- a mess it seems.

Orion's not worrying about the fire. His armor, when sealed, is self contained and rated for space. "I think they've discovered that, Commish." he says dryly. "I've lost sight of the woman but the fire is spreading rapidly. GET OUT OF THE BUILDING!" That's obviously directed to the cops inside. "I'm going to make sure no one is left in the cells down below." He's been in them often enough to know how to get to them even if he hasn't been in this precinct before.

The screaming woman that looks like Raggedy Ann if she grew up in Suicide Slums with the tatter and stained rags, clothing that just screams she's been on the street for days if not weeks at a time mixed with her emaciated form, the fear in her eyes, standing next to a woman that looks like should could have been the model for Prom Night Barbie before meeting with some nasty fire caught Dodds off-guard. If it were just one person with burned clothing then the potential assailant could easily be identified. He does not have that luxury. Rushing toward the women like he's going to tackle the one not on point Dodds readies himself and then feints going around the duo. Why the feint? Easy, his finger pressed down on the trigger to the gas gun before even coming close to the scared girl. A cloud of smoke billows from in front of the girl and follows around until it consumes the other girl. The great thing about having a weapon with some spread to it, he could create arcs of sleeping gas to take out multiple targets. Both would have to endure a cloud of sleep gas if they wanted to get out. A little bit ago the gas took out someone in a gang of wannabe thugs called The Wrecking Crew. He was the size of tank yet the gas still cut him down to size. Hopefully it would make quicker work of the girls.

With the flames already licking the 9th Precinct Headquarters' exterior, Commissioner Gordon simply can't go any closer. For a moment, he simply stares in horror, before raising the walkie to his face. "Copy that, Orion. Fire department is moving in." There is another beat pause, for out here, with no fire suit nor training to handle such dangerous conditions, he can only stand and wait. "Do what you can," he adds, before lowering the walkie and watching as the fire-fighters rapidly uncurl hoses and begin hooking up fire hydrants.

Now, the police begin to file out as the orders actually make it down. Mutant protocol. Oh, yeah. That's right. Let the professionals deal with it! Now, with their precinct in flames, they're more than willing, passing the fire-fighters as they head down the stairs and out into the street, coughing out the black smoke.

Orion gets a good view of the booking room now, going up, passed by firemen on the way. Off to the holding areas where there are prisoners yelling to be let go. This might be more interesting alone, but.. who knows? Maybe the prisoners will be willing to go out, single file.. out the back?

Oh look! Heather doesn't burst into flames. In fact, the mutant feels.. normal in that 'body temperature' way. But?

  • OOF*

Stumbling against Heather, she virtually stumbles and this time, falls. Her hands reach out to catch herself from falling and fails, landing on hands and knees. Rolling over, she mumbles "Veebache", but as she begins to regain her footing to dash for the door.. there.. there's that gold mask.

Again, she screams, "Nye.." and tries to push through, but the gas. The gas. So very familiar to her, that sickeningly sweet smell that threatens to drag her under. Her eyes widen in that sudden recognition, and in that recognition comes a desperation- but before she can do much more? She falls to the ground.. out.

She's stumbled into from behind, and Heather's instincts scream that the move of Mask-boy's is a feint. She begins a counter for an incoming strike.. not really thinking about the gun in the guy's hand at first. The gas explodes and she gets a good whiff, her balance in mid-shift as she does.

Totally off balance here, Heather reaches up a hand and catches onto a doorknob... before she herself topples and ends up on her back. That dress is even worse off now but hey, it already had at least one bullet hole, a little floor-rumpling really isn't going to make it worse.

LYing there, she blinks her eyes once or twice and then looks to Dodd.. "Whoa, what is that stuff?" She asks, looking like she is quite literally already to the tail end of being affected by it... her eyes clearing up in seconds, not hours.

Orion places one end of his baton against the lock of one holding cells and there's a soft *WHUMP* of a plasma bolt destroying the mechanism. Pulling open the door, he says "Run, do not walk, to the nearest exit." and moves to the next cell to repeat the process. "Prisoners getting the hell out of here." he transmits. "Might want to grab em on the way out."

Grabbing the fallen woman Dodds ignores the Barbie Queen. His back turns as he picks up the fall woman. The one with the dress would have to be the second trip. He starts to head back down hoping to bring the one fallen person to the cops; they could figure out who is innocent and guilty with this madness. He starts taking the first steps down not suspecting one of his attackers isn't that effected by the gas.

"Copy, Orion." Gordon lowers his walkie and is on the movie, rousing the cops who have formed up outside. "We have prisoners evacuating from below! You, and you, take five units a piece and go to the back entrance. You, you're with me, and you!"

The flames threaten the main floor, and with the firemen moving in, they start the wetdown. It'll be tens of thousands of dollars worth of damage. Maybe a million, by the time everything is said and done..

The prisoners do, indeed, find a way out, and as they do come out, those on the perimeter still have weapons drawn. They realize that, after some laser dots show upon them.. and are reasonably willing to be taken back into custody in a neighboring precinct.

As for the mutant.. she doesn't smell any better than she looks. She's out cold, her worn clothing giving her body more bulk than she actually has. She's light and to look closely at her, her hands have dark spots; looking much older than her actual years. A hint of her wrists show the darkened grit of singe as well as darker marks.

Up on her feet after a few more seconds, Heather shakes her head to clear it like a punch drunk boxer who's taken one too many shots to the skull. She shakes it once more and then nods. Okay.. all good. Her bullet wound is gone too but one thing remains.. her tummy GRUMBLES. Yes... healing consumes calories. She looks about and then her eyes track the direction Dodd went and she starts moving that way. She has no idea who is whom, or who means whom harm. She just knows that... that's the way to go. "Hello?" she calls out on the way. Yeah, she's bewildered now. It's not often that her memory skips a beat.

Once all the prisoners are released, Orion finds a corner that's out of the way. "And that's a wrap, Commish. Looks like the firemen have it from here. I'll keep on listening in case someone gets into trouble." Not that he can put out a fire but he can ignore it and teleport in and out. And then he does, a flash of white light and he's gone.

Dodds walks then turns to see the other girl is up. Steps are taken quickly as he yells out, "Exits this way," she seems disoriented. Hopefully the cops would take the woman in his arms quick enough so the other girl could be gassed against if she needed it. Maybe the groggy one would be too out of it if the cops slap any cuffs on her. Dodds just stays focus on getting out before things get worse.

With the re-taking of the mutie into the ranks of the police, though now they have an idea of how they can keep her.. quiet, the arresting officer looks less than pleased. To say the least. Stepping forward, he nods towards the ambulance service that's pulled in. "There," and there'll be a couple more junior officers that take the woman from Dodds. "Got her."

Now on the gurney, the woman is out.. though now, there's some question as to exactly HOW they'll truly be able to continue. Still.. Mutant Protocol, and now they'll add more of the safeties. And find out from their experts what it is that this one can do so they can better guard against it- for as long as she is in their custody, that is.

With everything now in place, things begin to take a turn for the better, as far as municipal services go. The fire is brought under control, and there's a somewhat nearby precinct that'll take the prisoners and a couple of the junior grade officers. The more senior have to go through the building, once it's done smouldering, and try to rebuild files, try and see what it is that can be recovered.

The Barbie isn't really a threat. She just asks questions like... "IS she going to be okay?" or, "They're not going to keep her sedated constantly, are they? That seems unnecessary and rather evil." You know the sort, activist types and then... oh right. She heads back out front, her dress ruined and the hold in front showing a swatch of her tummy but in back, about a saucer sized hole in her right midback section is open to view. She heads for the limo and says, "You mind swinging me by the office so I Can change first?"

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