Nighttime Hunting [IC]

[Derin]

The police glanced between Pyre and the criminal. But they'd dealt with strange heroes before. One cuffed the unresisting criminal while the other walked over to Pyre. "We're going to need statements from both of you, but they can wait until your friend is treated. Go on." She glanced at the paramedics. "Actually, I might come with you. Easier to get your statements that way. I'm not strictly supposed to but I'm sure the paramedics won't mind."

Meanwhile, Whiplash was being herded into an ambulance. A paramedic bandaged up her shoulder. "We'll get the bullet taken out in surgery," he said. "For now, breathe through this." He handed her a plastic tube.

"Painkiller?"

"Yes."

Whiplash stuck it in her mouth and breathed deeply. It tasted terrible, but she felt the pain fade immediately. Maybe things would work out.

[Cube]

Pyre nodded at the officer. "That's fine. I sort of showed up late to the party. Sort of a fluke, really."

He headed toward the ambulance, doing his best to look as non-threatening as possible as he tried to figure out a way to go along for the ride without forcing the paramedics out of valuable workspace.

"So... she's going to be okay, right? No smoke inhalation, no infection, nothing weird from the chemicals?" He glanced back toward the building. "I mean... I managed to hold off the fire for a bit, but..."

[Derin]

"She'll probably be fine," a paramedic said, forcing a breathing mask over Whiplash's face while the other took her blood pressure. "We'll run further tests at the hospital. Did you get injured? Inhale any smoke?" He frowned and looked Pyre up and down. "I admit I'm not certain of your physiology. Do you have a private physician or anybody who knows how to diagnose and treat you?"

The ambulance started moving, turning the siren back on. Whiplash wasn't sure that her condition should count as an emergency, but protocol was protocol she supposed. She lay back and closed her eyes. The painkillers and blood loss were making her woozy. "Pyre?" she murmured. "Secret identity... whatever they do, my family can't know." Then she passed out.

[Cube]

"I'm fine. Fire doesn't bother me at all." said Pyre, as he rubbed the back of his head. "Lord of all flame, kind of the gimmick. Sort of cheesy when applied in real life, though."

He was currently trying to make himself as non-obtrusive as possible while crammed into the back of that ambulance, though he refused to take his eyes off Whiplash. Especially not after what she just said.

'Of course she has a secret identity...' he thought, as he tried to think up a cover story. 'Alright... uh... if anyone asks, I saved her from a mugging or something.' It was probably kind of demeaning, and a lot less cool than a motorcycle accident, but at least it was something.

Pyre spent the rest of the ambulance ride responding to the police officer's queries, though his knowledge of the whole situation was limited. Still, he couldn't help but wonder: What were they making in there? He'd have to ask Whiplash what she knew when she came to...

[Derin]

Whiplash came to in a hospital bed. She didn't open her eyes immediately. The lack of annoying questions and calm explanations told her that there weren't any doctors or police in the room right at that moment. "Pyre, are you there?" she murmured. "Was I out long?"

She had no idea why she assumed that Pyre should be there. He probably had better things to do with his time than loiter around unconscious gunshot victims. But she knew his name, or at least his superhero name; he wasn't a nameless doctor and she couldn't have her own friends and family around her for obvious reasons. (How did the paperwork work, with secret identities? Or the bill? Or her medical history? She needed to figure that out. There surely needed to be some sort of protocol in place.)

Her goggles were gone! No... no, she'd taken those off. Right. Her mouth was covered by an oxygen mask. Her hero mask didn't cover her mouth, and the doctors hadn't removed it. Presumably they dealt with superheroes all the time, or at least idiot vigilantes in stupid costumes like her. She opened her eyes a crack and looked down; still in her outfit, although one sleeve had been cut away to expose the wound. Good thing it was just cheap fabric. Her belt and whip were gone, but they'd probably been put in temporary storage somewhere. Not important. Only one thing was important. "The time! Was I out long?"

[Cube]

"I'm right here. You were out a few hours." Pyre had been sitting in a chair by Whiplash's bed for some time now. "Don't worry. They've got you checked in under your secret ID. They've put your stuff in storage, and they said you're probably going to be fine." Pyre smiled, leaning forward in his chair.

"...You, uh, need help getting home or something? Sound like you're in kind of a hurry. Is someone waiting for you?"

[Derin]

"I need to be home by six," Whiplash said, "if at all possible." She sat up. "I should be able to get there fine. Thanks for... you know, saving my life and everything. Are you okay? Did you get burned?" She looked thoughtfully at the machinery next to her, wondering if she should just tear off the mask and pulse monitor and walk out. No, she'd just woken up. She might collapse again. Besides, she still needed to talk to the police. "I was doing fine until the fire," she grumbled. She glanced at her bandaged shoulder. "And the bullets."

[Cube]

Pyre smiled. "I don't get burned. I mean... not anymore, anyway. It was really no trouble." The massive demon seemed a bit embarrassed by Whiplash's gratitude. "Saving people is what we do, right? ...I mean, it's what I do, anyway."

He glanced at the clock. "My Wife isn't going to be happy about me staying out this late, but... had to make sure you were okay, you know?"

"Speaking of which, I don't think I properly introduced myself. My name's Lou. ...I can't really do the whole secret ID thing."

[Derin]

He had a wife? Whiplash didn't comment. There were giant bees in the city after all, so why not... fire demon things? Whatever he was, she felt like she owed him some information if he was willing to tell her his name. "My daughter reads comics with a character that looks an awful lot like you," she said conversationally. "She pretends that she doesn't -- kids, you know -- but I'm sure I've seen a character that looks like you." She, too, glanced at the clock. "You reckon they'd be mad if I just walked out and dropped into the police station tomorrow night? Do you know where they stored my equipment?"

[Cube]

'So that's why she's so keen on getting home... her kid must not know.'

"Oh! Those! Those are mine. I mean... I draw them." He reached into his pocket and produced a business card.

'Louis Ross, Artist - Castle Comics'

"But, I mean, I'm not the guy in the comics. I just... it's a really long story and I don't really get it myself. This is kind of a new thing for me."

He glanced at the clock as well. "...Your stuff is in the lockers downstairs. I can cover for you if you want, though. Stuff like this happens all the time."

[Derin]

He writes comics about himself? Whiplash took the card and looked it over. Should she try to get his autograph? Did little girls like the autographs of comic book artists? Probably not. And she could always ask him the next time she nearly died and he had to rescue her, anyway.

"Thanks," she said in response to his offer to cover for her. She pulled off the mask and heart monitor and simply walked out. She didn't expect anybody do come running at the flatlined monitor; a nurse should be able to tell the difference between heart trouble and a loose electrode, and things probably came loose all the time.

Downstairs. No problem. She was a shadow of vengeance, a stalker of the night. She used to make a living breaking into high security buildings and vaults looking for priceless, often well-hidden artefacts. She could find some stairs.