Post by June Moone on Aug 26, 2020 4:00:18 GMT -5
Participants: June Moone
Open/Closed: Open to heroes
Location(s): Ace Chemical Plant, Gotham City
Time of Day: Night
Weather: Damp, wet, cold
Summary: A strange infection is warming the minds of Gotham's civilians, causing them to act like 'zombies'. Desperate for help, the GCPD have identified the most likely source of the outbreak: the abandoned Ace Chemicals plant. In a race against time, the police have quarantined entire areas of the city and are working to purify the water supply, leaving a small squad to head toward the plant. However, they aren't alone: heroes are desperate to help their cause.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Gotham City Police Department, 7.52pm. 19 hours after the initial outbreak
The bustle in the bullpen verged on chaotic. Officers darted between desks, shouting orders and firing questions at one another while others pinned maps to walls and desperately clicked through recorded video feeds. At the heart of the maelstrom, Romy Chandler stood with her hands on her hips, a frown creasing her forehead. Working on less than two hours sleep and running low on caffiene, the experienced detective's patience was running short, and she was accutely aware they were running out of time.
Almost 11 hours earlier, four seperate sites around Gotham had been closed off and quarantined, over thirty people having reported a strange behaviour in relatives and loved ones: calm, family-loving individuals turned frenzied and violent. It was thought to be a chemical imbalance – something caused by a disease or virus, and the hazmat team of the CDC had been quick to get involved. The scenes coming out of the cordoned off disctricts were horrendous – mindless people running and attacking anyone in sight, brutalizing them without reason. If Chandler had to compare it to anything, which she was loath to do on account of it being sensationalist, she felt it quite fitted the general theme and premise of the Night of the Living Dead.
She had flatly refused to call anything or anyone a 'zombie' however. She wasn't a child.
Stepping closer to one of the pinned-up maps, she eyed the four quarantined areas, highlighted in red – blue pins represting where GCPD's finest were holding the line and supporting the Government's hazmats. After a few moments of studying them, she glanced at one of the young officers milling close by. “All these neighbourhoods are on the waterfront, right?”
It took a moment for the young man to work out fiery red head was addressing him, but he nodded quickly once he'd caught on.
“Uh...yeah. They all back on to the bay, a river or a reservoir.”
Romy nodded a little, clicking her tongue against her teeth.
“Have we looked into that?”
The officer shook his head.
“We've been too busy evacuat-”
“Get me forensics and the CDC on the phone, then a list of any major company that owns a riverside holding.”
“But -”
“Officer, that was an order.”
Her tone left little room for debate.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Gotham City Police Department, 10.30pm. 21 hours after the initial outbreak
Romy ran a hand through her hair and sighed, unable to tame it, before rubbing her dark, sunken eyes with the back of her hands. There was no amount of make up, nor any lighting, that could make her look anything other than exhausted. The telephone conversation between the GCPD and various government agencies had lasted hours – once she'd explained her theory, that whatever reagent had caused the outbreak was found in Gotham's water supplies, the CDC had been forced to totally alter their plan of action. Quarantining a water supply was as good as impossible: they needed a cure, a way to treat the water, and to find the source. Unless that happened, it was very likely the madness and violence would spread throughout all of Gotham.
Roles were disseminated. The CDC would try and treat the water and any patients they found infected, while the GCPD were tasked with locating the source of the contamination, making sure the site was secure so that Government scienctists could then investigate.
The second the phone had been put down, Chandler had gathered a small team of detectives and started theorising. Having looked at a number of maps, a list of holdings and lettings, then historical reports – Occam's Razor had led Romy to deduce the source of the outbreak was most likely to be the former Ace Chemicals plant. It had been closed down years before, following a string of accidents and failed safety inspections and had been abandoned ever since. Located on the outskirts of Bleake Island, a number of waste pipes led directly from the plant into the bay surrounding Gotham's nothern most island.
She'd called the press conference soon after.
Chandler had never been fond of the media. Thus, her decision to involve the press had left a number of her peers and co-workers more than a little confused. However, desperate times called for desperate measures. The press conference was to act as a call for help – alerting to the rest of the country to Gotham's plight, hopefully catching the attention of the meta-heroes and heroines of the Justice League. She had an incredible amount of faith in her fellow officers, and a great deal in Gotham's bat population. However, the GCPD were stretched thinly, helping to protect members of the CDC, and the city's vigilantes would no doubt be on the streets, protecting those innocents threatened by the infected.
She might not have liked it, but it was the sensible move, the one that stood the best chance of saving Gotham.
“Detective Chandler? You're up.”
The voice to her left roused Romy from her thoughts, and she nodded.
“Ok, lets get this over with,” she muttered to herself, stepping out onto the slightly raised podium, her appearance greeted with the flashes and clicks of camera shutters, and an uproar of questions.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Ace Chemical Plant, 12.04am. 23 hours after the initial outbreak
She shrugged her leather jacket up around her shoulders, pushing against the rusted iron-mesh gate. For a moment, it refused to budge, standing firm against her initial efforts, age and disuse having locked its hinges. However, her fourth attempt caused it to whine and creak and with a stuttering, jarring motion, permitted her entry. Slipping through the slight gap that had opened up, June Moone crossed the boundary that seperated Bleake Island from the Ace Chemicals plant.
Once inside the grounds, the young woman unclipped a torch from her belt, flicking the switch atop it. A pale beam flickered to life, and she swept it in a wide arc, illuminating the path ahead – tarmac, tarmac and more tarmac, finally ending where the walls of the plant rose, imposing against the night sky. Bar her own breath, the only noise came from the distant lapping of water in Gotham's harbour, and the ever present wail of far-off sirens. Ace Chemicals was totally still.
“This is one of the worst ideas you've ever had, June...” she muttered to herself as she started forward, keeping her flashlight trained on the ground before her.
And it was. There was no denying it.
A strange infection had taken hold of Gotham – innocent civilians had become mindless killers, and she'd made her way right into the city's heart, looking for the source of the illness. One televised press conference with the GCPD was all it took to pique her interest, and she'd made the snap decision to get involved. Supposedly, the outbreak was the work of some unknown, untested scientific compound – something that could be cured by medicine and research. That could well have been the case.
But then there was a chance, however small, that it was something more.
Magic changed realities in all sorts of ways, and if the origin of the illness was indeed mystical, no policeman, CDC authority or meta-human was going to be able to help stop it. Which is where June came in. As an expert in parapsychology and the occult, she knew what to look for, knew the signs...she could actually provide aid and expertise that was sorely lacking.
She just wished she'd not decided to go alone. That, rather than her desire to help, was the bad idea she referred to.
Open/Closed: Open to heroes
Location(s): Ace Chemical Plant, Gotham City
Time of Day: Night
Weather: Damp, wet, cold
Summary: A strange infection is warming the minds of Gotham's civilians, causing them to act like 'zombies'. Desperate for help, the GCPD have identified the most likely source of the outbreak: the abandoned Ace Chemicals plant. In a race against time, the police have quarantined entire areas of the city and are working to purify the water supply, leaving a small squad to head toward the plant. However, they aren't alone: heroes are desperate to help their cause.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Gotham City Police Department, 7.52pm. 19 hours after the initial outbreak
The bustle in the bullpen verged on chaotic. Officers darted between desks, shouting orders and firing questions at one another while others pinned maps to walls and desperately clicked through recorded video feeds. At the heart of the maelstrom, Romy Chandler stood with her hands on her hips, a frown creasing her forehead. Working on less than two hours sleep and running low on caffiene, the experienced detective's patience was running short, and she was accutely aware they were running out of time.
Almost 11 hours earlier, four seperate sites around Gotham had been closed off and quarantined, over thirty people having reported a strange behaviour in relatives and loved ones: calm, family-loving individuals turned frenzied and violent. It was thought to be a chemical imbalance – something caused by a disease or virus, and the hazmat team of the CDC had been quick to get involved. The scenes coming out of the cordoned off disctricts were horrendous – mindless people running and attacking anyone in sight, brutalizing them without reason. If Chandler had to compare it to anything, which she was loath to do on account of it being sensationalist, she felt it quite fitted the general theme and premise of the Night of the Living Dead.
She had flatly refused to call anything or anyone a 'zombie' however. She wasn't a child.
Stepping closer to one of the pinned-up maps, she eyed the four quarantined areas, highlighted in red – blue pins represting where GCPD's finest were holding the line and supporting the Government's hazmats. After a few moments of studying them, she glanced at one of the young officers milling close by. “All these neighbourhoods are on the waterfront, right?”
It took a moment for the young man to work out fiery red head was addressing him, but he nodded quickly once he'd caught on.
“Uh...yeah. They all back on to the bay, a river or a reservoir.”
Romy nodded a little, clicking her tongue against her teeth.
“Have we looked into that?”
The officer shook his head.
“We've been too busy evacuat-”
“Get me forensics and the CDC on the phone, then a list of any major company that owns a riverside holding.”
“But -”
“Officer, that was an order.”
Her tone left little room for debate.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Gotham City Police Department, 10.30pm. 21 hours after the initial outbreak
Romy ran a hand through her hair and sighed, unable to tame it, before rubbing her dark, sunken eyes with the back of her hands. There was no amount of make up, nor any lighting, that could make her look anything other than exhausted. The telephone conversation between the GCPD and various government agencies had lasted hours – once she'd explained her theory, that whatever reagent had caused the outbreak was found in Gotham's water supplies, the CDC had been forced to totally alter their plan of action. Quarantining a water supply was as good as impossible: they needed a cure, a way to treat the water, and to find the source. Unless that happened, it was very likely the madness and violence would spread throughout all of Gotham.
Roles were disseminated. The CDC would try and treat the water and any patients they found infected, while the GCPD were tasked with locating the source of the contamination, making sure the site was secure so that Government scienctists could then investigate.
The second the phone had been put down, Chandler had gathered a small team of detectives and started theorising. Having looked at a number of maps, a list of holdings and lettings, then historical reports – Occam's Razor had led Romy to deduce the source of the outbreak was most likely to be the former Ace Chemicals plant. It had been closed down years before, following a string of accidents and failed safety inspections and had been abandoned ever since. Located on the outskirts of Bleake Island, a number of waste pipes led directly from the plant into the bay surrounding Gotham's nothern most island.
She'd called the press conference soon after.
Chandler had never been fond of the media. Thus, her decision to involve the press had left a number of her peers and co-workers more than a little confused. However, desperate times called for desperate measures. The press conference was to act as a call for help – alerting to the rest of the country to Gotham's plight, hopefully catching the attention of the meta-heroes and heroines of the Justice League. She had an incredible amount of faith in her fellow officers, and a great deal in Gotham's bat population. However, the GCPD were stretched thinly, helping to protect members of the CDC, and the city's vigilantes would no doubt be on the streets, protecting those innocents threatened by the infected.
She might not have liked it, but it was the sensible move, the one that stood the best chance of saving Gotham.
“Detective Chandler? You're up.”
The voice to her left roused Romy from her thoughts, and she nodded.
“Ok, lets get this over with,” she muttered to herself, stepping out onto the slightly raised podium, her appearance greeted with the flashes and clicks of camera shutters, and an uproar of questions.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Ace Chemical Plant, 12.04am. 23 hours after the initial outbreak
She shrugged her leather jacket up around her shoulders, pushing against the rusted iron-mesh gate. For a moment, it refused to budge, standing firm against her initial efforts, age and disuse having locked its hinges. However, her fourth attempt caused it to whine and creak and with a stuttering, jarring motion, permitted her entry. Slipping through the slight gap that had opened up, June Moone crossed the boundary that seperated Bleake Island from the Ace Chemicals plant.
Once inside the grounds, the young woman unclipped a torch from her belt, flicking the switch atop it. A pale beam flickered to life, and she swept it in a wide arc, illuminating the path ahead – tarmac, tarmac and more tarmac, finally ending where the walls of the plant rose, imposing against the night sky. Bar her own breath, the only noise came from the distant lapping of water in Gotham's harbour, and the ever present wail of far-off sirens. Ace Chemicals was totally still.
“This is one of the worst ideas you've ever had, June...” she muttered to herself as she started forward, keeping her flashlight trained on the ground before her.
And it was. There was no denying it.
A strange infection had taken hold of Gotham – innocent civilians had become mindless killers, and she'd made her way right into the city's heart, looking for the source of the illness. One televised press conference with the GCPD was all it took to pique her interest, and she'd made the snap decision to get involved. Supposedly, the outbreak was the work of some unknown, untested scientific compound – something that could be cured by medicine and research. That could well have been the case.
But then there was a chance, however small, that it was something more.
Magic changed realities in all sorts of ways, and if the origin of the illness was indeed mystical, no policeman, CDC authority or meta-human was going to be able to help stop it. Which is where June came in. As an expert in parapsychology and the occult, she knew what to look for, knew the signs...she could actually provide aid and expertise that was sorely lacking.
She just wished she'd not decided to go alone. That, rather than her desire to help, was the bad idea she referred to.
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