Troubles of Life and Death
13th of March 2007 A.D.
Builders, clerks, doctors, teachers, students, clerks and cashiers, you look out over the worried people trying to get answers to questions the world doesn't want them to get. They shouldn't be involved in all this, in a better world they wouldn't be. In a better world no one would have died, this isn't that world. You raise your voice and pitch it just so with an air of authority of knowing where you stand and where others should too: "Agent Smith, Department of Homeland Security, Bio-Terrorism Taskforce. Why are you people assaulting the agents who just saved you all from being exposed to weaponized Ebola?"
Ignore for a moment the fact that neither of them look like any sort of agent: Silver's still dressed in faded pastels wrapped in black leather and metal studs, like wild flowers on a gave while Azhi Dahaka looks even less professional under all that blood, you had thrown out an answer in an official voice and so the crowd half stumbles to a halt, strung up along the track, some less willing than others to give up the chase, not not quite willing to continue without the benefit of numbers.
"Well ain't that a load of horseshit!" a large man, his physique like a wrestler or a quarterback gone to seed and what you think might be a faded tattoo along his right bicep shouts back. "Do you see that!" he motions at the hole in the side of the train. "Did fucking Ebola do that?"
"No," you reply calmly, "
That was a bomb unfortunately not that we can assess the damage since you accosted us,
sir." You do your best to load the courtesy with all the threats of consequences your presumed authority might conjure.
"What about the lights, tell her about the lights Jack!" A woman standing next to him grabs onto the man's arm. His wife? No, not the right kind of familiarity, but either a friend or close family.
"Ma'am we suspect there might have been hallucinogenic compounds involved..."
Because corpse-pale doves and dragons made of pale shadows aren't the kind of thing most people expect to see even in the aftermath of a terrorist attack. Please ignore the fact one of the 'agents' looks half dead other than being ambulatory.
While you'd been speaking Tiffany had beelined straight for the pair of Exalts laying hands on them to heal ills subtle and overt.
"Are you the..." As Silver cuts herself off her face scrunches into a look of confusion even as her gaze darts to the newly healed Azhi Dakaka, unsure if she should trust him, which he catches on all too quickly.
You need to get these two out of here and explain the realities of his situation more to him, unfortunetly claiming to be a federal agent at the side of an attack isn't exactly conductive to vanishing in a puff of smoke, metaphorical or literal, though after ten minutes of exponding and expanding on your spur of the moment lie you at least have the chance to call the actual authorities. A tired sounding Von Trier assures you they have people on the way, by road and helicopter, but it's going to take at least half an hour before you can vanish among the first responders.
"Don't talk to them here!" you hear Lydia hiss at Silver, though only because you had been keeping an ear out in that quorter. A worried look shows nothing out of the ordinary, they had just wandered towards the front of the train to take 'messurements'... but then you realize the metal of of the passanger car is starting to
frost over.
Oridnarily the newly dead would take days to weeks to manifest, ordinarily they would not do so while even a sliver of the sun was still in the sky... these are not normal circumstances nor normal company. Two of the Chosen of Death are abroad and they had been fountaining black essence into the air. Any ghosts incarnating by that power aren't going to be friendly.
What do you do?
[] Try to evacuate the car in which people died, the last thing you need is ghostly manifestations to cover up
[] Leave it to Lydia, calming ghosts with witnesses is not ideal, but she'd good at it, the best you know
[] Write in
OOC: Normally the reaction time would be faster, but they have to brief the first responders in question about things like 'not arresting Molly and Co' and 'Don't ask questions about the giant pile of smoldering meat'. 
