Amanda van Eeden (carabinadeases) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2016-08-21 07:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2019 [08] august, amanda van eeden, arthur jenner |
Who: Arthur Jenner and Amanda van Eeden
Where: the streets of Austin, somewhere between the Capitol and the UMCB
What: Amanda stumbles across an injured Art
When: Backdated to 8/6, mid-afternoon
Under normal circumstances, Amanda had an excellent sense of direction. Austin, however, confounded her constantly. The roads were fairly straightforward in layout -- grids upon grids -- but for some reason the first detour from her usual route got her all turned around. A workman had waved her off onto a side street to avoid something or other, and now she was not entirely certain of her whereabouts. Street signs were missing left and right, which didn't help matters. Amanda was just cursing herself for being too stubborn to admit to anyone her difficulty with navigating the city, when she saw him on the sidewalk ahead. The first thought that occurred to her upon stumbling across a man slumped by the road was not a charitable one. After all, there were still several rogues out there, and this was exactly the kind of trap that might lure in some passing good samaritan. Amanda had no intention of being mugged today, so her impulse was to drive past. As she did, though, some feeling of sympathy tugged at her anyway. He did actually look injured. With a sigh, Amanda stopped the car and put it in park. After a quick text to tell her assistant, Donna, to notify Chief Kulseth if she hadn't heard from her again in fifteen minutes, Amanda stepped out of the driver's side. They'd given her a pistol when she first arrived in the city, despite her protests that she probably couldn't hit the broadside of a barn, and she fished it out of her purse now. Glancing both ways down the street, she approached the man, drawing to a halt when she was still several feet away. How to handle this? Balls out, of course. “If you think, for one minute, I won't shoot you in the head if you try anything, you're severely underestimating me. Now, do you require assistance?” Everything hurt. Every inch of him hurt, every inch of his body felt like he was going to sore and fall apart once he went to sleep and it really settled in. His eyes were both black and blue, and his shoulder looked like it wasn’t sitting in the socket anymore. When Amanda approached and Arthur looked up, it was easy to see the split lip and how his good arm was wrapped around his middle in an attempt to keep hurt ribs from throbbing too much. “You think I can do anything right now?” Art asked, raising a brow and trying to smile- it hurt. He stopped. “I’m touched, Miss, I really am. I don’t even know if I can see straight. Now, was God kind enough to make two of you, or am I seeing double?” he asked the woman, leaning back on the bench and wondering if this woman was actually real. Or was he bleeding from his head? Was he going to die, and this woman was his coping mechanism? He’d pegged Savannah as being his dying image. “I want a doctor,” he said after a long moment, slowly but standing up and gasping with a silent gasp. “I need a doctor.” Even with a miserable as this man looked, Amanda still took an automatic step back as he heaved himself to his feet. Wounded wasn’t the same thing as harmless, and though she was inclined to believe he wanted her help more than anything else at the moment, her guard wasn’t completely ready to come down. “I can get you to a doctor,” she replied, her voice still firm. “I happen to know the best doctor in Austin personally, so that’s not a concern.” What Ria would think of her showing up on the doorstep of her ER with a man in this condition was the least of her worries at the moment. Besides, she knew for a fact that it wouldn’t matter -- Ria would save whatever questions were raised by these unusual circumstances for after the work was done. Amanda straightened her shoulders and exhaled through her nose in a loud, disgruntled sigh, making a decision there and then. The small pistol slipped back out of sight into the pocket of her blazer and she stepped back in to take the man’s arm, bracing him for the short walk to her car. “What’s your name?” Though there was nothing in particular about him that screamed ‘outlaw’ she nevertheless strongly suspected he might be involved with the rogue Hellhounds in some way. Better not to voice that thought aloud, though. He might just be another of their victims and, anyway, why risk shaking the hornets’ nest? His mouth was dry from the heat, and Arthur looked at the pretty lady and knew he had two options. He could lie and pass himself off as being nothing more than a victim of the bikers, not one of the main players who had turned coat and become a villain (even if that too was a lie). But the moment he hit the hospital it would take less than nothing to be ID’d as one of the members of the pack. He mulled it over, his own name rolling around his mouth as he tried to figure out what to say and how to do it. “Arthur,” he offered, going for his full name. He didn’t use it often, but in that moment he would. He would if it meant that he had a second’s head start for even a moment. Damn, he had gotten his head hit hard. “Some bikers fucked me up,” he informed Amanda. Under other circumstances, the absence of a last name in Arthur’s introduction most likely wouldn't have struck Amanda at all. She remained on hyper alert, however, despite being almost convinced that there was no trickery at play here, and so it did stand out that he'd chosen to only give her a first name. It could simply be that he was in pain, of course, suffering from whatever beating he'd sustained, and so chose to make a simple answer to her question. Giving Arthur the benefit of the doubt wasn’t Amanda’s first inclination, but -- well, she was very aware of what the rogues were capable of, after all. “My name is Amanda van Eeden, Arthur.” She helped him slowly in the direction of her car, letting Arthur set the pace. He could have internal injuries for all she knew, and so Amanda judged it best not to rush. “I work at the Capitol, and believe it or not, I know a fair amount about the bikers that have been running roughshod over Austin this summer. So I believe you that this is their handiwork.” Even if Amanda was (temporarily, at least) willing to put Arthur in the clear as far as working with the rogues, that didn't mean the outlaws weren't currently a threat to them. They might choose to return and finish the job they'd started, for instance. So she kept her ears open for the roaring of engines, and her gaze roved the empty street for any sign that the bikers might be lurking nearby. “Do you have any idea why they attacked you?” She asked the question without suspicion, despite harboring many of them over the past few minutes. Dissembling in such a manner was practically second nature after so many years of working with politicians. “Cause they’re assholes, that’s why,” Art informed her, moving slowly. One of his feet dragged as he walked, making him feel as if he had a deadweight on his foot. But his arm, limp and dangling out of his socket, was the worst. He had to lean in enough that he became quickly impressed with the young woman’s ability to walk. When he hefted himself into the car it was with a cry of pain, his head hitting the seat as he hissed and tried not to touch the spot. “Jesus!” he groaned, one foot still outside of the car. It had been a little bit more of a struggle than Amanda had anticipated, those last few feet to the car, and she took a moment to catch her breath before doing anything else. Her hands rested on her hips as she gazed into her car at the wounded man, who was clearly fighting back against a wave of pain. “They really beat the shit out you, didn’t they, Arthur?” Amanda shook her head, mentally cursing all the Hellhounds in one go, even if Coldiron’s loyal dogs weren’t directly to blame for this man’s current condition. They’d still help build this renegade culture that ran rampant in Austin, though, so she couldn’t say their hands were completely spotless. “As soon we get you all settled in there, I’ll text my doctor friend and we’ll be on our way to the UMCB.” Staying in one place like this for so long had given her memory of the city’s layout time to solidify and she was fairly certain of where they lay in relation to the major landmarks of Austin now. Amanda crouched -- no mean feat in a skirt -- to gently help Arthur shift his last limb into the car. Looking up into his face, she asked, “Is there anyone you want me to contact, to let them know you’ve been hurt?” Savannah. He wanted her to call Savannah, but that wasn’t an option. If anything would bust his cover, it would be contacting the woman who was pissed to hell and back with him. And how could he blame her? She had every right to be hurt and pissed at the biker. “No, I’m on my own. My family all died in Boston,” Arthur offered, knowing grains of truth wouldn’t hurt him in that regard. It wasn’t a lie at all: the Jenner family was dead in Boston. He wasn’t really sure who his mom was, and didn’t know his dad at all, but the priests and other foster boys he’d known growing up were long gone. Between the zombies and the cold of New England, well… he didn’t need to visit to know it in his gut. “Just get me to a doctor, please.” He coughed, and felt glad as hell as a chunk of phlegm and not blood entered his mouth. “Of course.” Standing, Amanda gently shut the passenger side door and circled the car so that she could get in as well. As she settled into her seat, she grabbed her cellphone to fire off a quick text to Donna that all was well and she could stand down. A second message followed, warning Ria they were coming, just as she’d told Arthur she’d send before they got underway. Being back in the relative safety of the car, able to let her guard lower slightly, and grounded by the mundanity of sending out these messages on the phone, Amanda’s mind was suddenly able to piece something together. Maybe it helped that her attention was no longer focused on what dangers might be hidden in this situation she’d stumbled across, but whatever it was -- a realization slid into place about her unexpected companion, who might not be such a stranger after all. “Arthur,” she said, repeating the only name she’d been given. Amanda fitted her key in the ignition and started up the engine, glancing at the man next to her before she put the car in drive. “Not Arthur Jenner, by any chance? Coldiron mentioned a man by that name, someone in a position that might piss off some bikers.” He’d gone so stiff at the mention of his last name that a feather could have blown him over. He looked at her, trying to figure out what to do. She knew who he was, and he knew Coldiron- Bishop. |