|Cordelia Lowsley (notsotragic) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2013-06-10 16:27:00
Who: Cordelia Lowsley, Azrael, & Hermes
What: Cordy gets attacked, Azrael is there to help
When: Monday night
Where: An alley somewhere, then Hermes' place
Warnings: Violence, both involving guns and not, language, shooting
Cordelia had finished her shift at Hecate's shop, clocking out and chatting with Hypnos for a few moments before she left. The sun had started to set, and the heat outside had lost the worst of its edge. Which was good, because she was walking home today. She usually didn't, but it had been so nice on her lunch break, she'd changed her mind on the spur of the moment.
Looking back, she would wish that she hadn't. But hindsight was always 20/20.
She was only a few blocks from her apartment, already thinking of the fettucine alfredo and white wine waiting for her in her fridge. She didn't even see the man in dark jeans and a black hoodie leap out at her from an alleyway. His hand was huge, and it was clamped firmly over her mouth before she could even think about speaking, let alone screaming. He dragged into the alley, shoving her so hard against a brick wall that she saw stars for a few moments. And when she could finally see clearly again, there was a gun in his hand. Not pointed at her, not yet, but the threat was very obvious.
"Gimme your bag!" he snapped.
Cordelia froze. She'd always thought she'd know what to do in situations like this, but her mind had been wipe blank. She couldn't make her hands work.
He hit her in the face with the butt of the gun, and she cried out, sliding down the wall. (Later, she'd take her shirt off and find out it took off a layer of skin. Later, it would hurt like all hell.) She sat down hard on the filthy floor of the alley, a warm trickle sliding down her face. She touched two fingers to her forehead, and they came away bright red and sticky. Blood. She was bleeding.
"I said," he snarled, hauling her back up on her feet. "Give me. Your bag. Or I'll shoot you."
She glanced at the mouth of the alley frantically, but there wasn't much foot traffic around here this time of night. He followed her gaze and smirked. "Scream all you want. There's no one to hear you. And even if they did, no one would come running. Or if they did, all they'd find is a corpse." He backhanded her. "I'm not going to ask you again."
Azrael was exhausted. New members of his team, plus paperwork, plus a meeting with his captain, all combined to make him very grumpy, hungry, and tired. He just wanted to go home, heat something up, and turn on the TV. Provided he didn't get called away of course. He was almost to his subway stop, when he heard a scream split the night air. He immediately changed direction, running toward the source of the noise. He found two people in an alley, a young woman with a bloody face, and a man more than twice her size, holding a gun.
The man noticed Azrael and waved the gun at him. "Move it along, motherfucker," he spat. "Unless you want some of this too."
Azrael opened his overshirt, where his police badge was clipped to his waist and very visible. "That would be a very bad idea," he said calmly. "Now, I think it's in everyone's best interest to let the young lady go."
The man moved so fast, he was dark blur. He grabbed Cordelia and held her in front of him. "You want the bitch so bad?" he asked, sneering. "Shoot me. Careful, though. Wouldn't want to hit her."
Cordelia was sobbing by this point, terrified out of her mind. She didn't care about the money, he could have her purse and everything in it, she just wanted to go home. She wanted to curl up on Hermes' couch with her sisters, to feel safe and protected.
Azrael didn't often carry his sidearm. But he'd been out at the shooting range today, and he hadn't put it away before he left. He drew the gun and could tell that, from the weight, it was loaded. He was a crack shot, long-range or close-up didn't matter. He just had to be careful not to hit the young lady. He pointed the gun at her assailant. "Drop it," he ordered. "Or I will drop you."
All it got him was another sneer. The man spat. "You won't take the shot," he taunted. "Too scared of hitting the human shield."
Azrael never lowered his gun, but he cast his eyes over every inch of the man's body. Travelling down towards his feet, he saw something that just might work. He squeezed the trigger before the other man could move, and a round tore through his right kneecap, shattering it and staining his jeans with blood. The mugger screamed and dropped his gun, falling onto his ruined knee. Azrael shot out the other one before he could get back up and try anything.
Cordelia threw herself at him, burying her face in his neck and sobbing. He holstered the gun and put his arms around her, murmuring soothing nonsense in her ear. She finally stepped back, shaking. "I got blood on your shirt," she said, voice blank and shaky.
Azrael smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it," he told her. "Are you alright, apart from your facial injuries?"
Cordelia nodded jerkily. "Yeah, he...he just seemed to want my purse really badly, he didn't..." She trailed off, looking down at her would-be attacker. He appeared to be unconscious. She kicked one of his bloody knees. It didn't make her feel better.
"I'm going to call my colleagues, have them come lock him up," Azrael told her. "They'll want to get a statement from you."
Cordelia blanched. "Not tonight," she said quickly. "Please? Please, not tonight, I just want to go be with my family. Tomorrow, I'll go in tomorrow, but I just...I can't right now."
Azrael nodded. "I'd have to run it by the detectives, but that isn't unusual. Do you have family nearby?"
She sniffed, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "Yeah, my...my grandfather lives nearby. My parents are in Philly. I just want to go stay with him tonight."
Azrael punched a few buttons on his phone, relaying all the relevant details to the officer on the other end. A squad car arrived within ten minutes, and the officers cuffed the unconscious man and drove him off to Central Booking. The detective who'd arrived asked Cordelia a few very basic questions, then agreed to let Azrael take her to her grandfather's house. "Although I'd recommend a trip to the hospital," he added. "Those look like some nasty cuts, and that eye might swell."
Cordelia nodded again. "I'll have him take me, I promise. I just...I can't be here anymore."
The detective nodded sympathetically. "If you come down to the station tomorrow, someone will take your statement. This whole thing looks pretty open and shut, but let's do it right." Cordelia nodded.
The detective turned to go, then stopped. "Firestone, right?" he asked Azrael.
"That's right," Azrael said.
"I saw the mess you made of his kneecaps," the detective said. "Hell of a shot, to get just him and miss her. Your reputation preceeds you. Good thing you were here."
"I just happened to be in the right place at the right time," Azrael countered.
"I'm glad you were," Cordelia said softly.
"Aren't we all," the detective agreed. He left, leaving Cordelia and Azrael alone in the alley.
"Let's find a cab," Azrael said, stepping back out onto the sidewalk. He managed to flag down the fourth one that passed, and Cordelia gave the driver Hemes' address. No one spoke on the ride over.
They climbed out of the taxi and headed up the steps of the apartment building. Cordelia pressed the buzzer. "Papou?" she said into the intercom. "Papou, it's Cordelia. Well, me and a police officer. I need to see you, please."