#tmhblackout

[the-manic-heart]

And finally... the end.

Dawn has broken. 

Most of the looters have been dispersed. The fires have been put out, but the flames took a lot. There's no saying yet how many people are missing; with the daylight, it is easier for the army to scour the streets, clean up missing links, look for bodies. Slowly, people start realising that they can turn their lights on again. Their phones start working once more. Whatever happened during the night to take out the power, has been fixed.

But has it been fixed too late? How is the city going to recover from this? Who is going to clean up the debris left behind? How are people who have lost things or people they held dear pick up their lives again?

The news speaks of an attack on national and international safety. Every Government and Law Enforcement Agency is looking into the culprit, but just like with the bombings there isn't much hope of finding anyone. 

Life, however, must go on. How will you accomplish that?

This denotes the end of the event. No paras or gif chats for the event may be started anymore and normal RP'ing may resume! 

This is a canon event, so the aftermath will definitely be felt by everyone included. 

Anyone who still wants to finish their paras they started during the event may continue to do so until next week Monday! Please make sure to keep on tagging those with #tmhblackout.

I want to thank everyone for participating and we're very proud of all the paras we saw on the dash over the weekend! We'd definitely like to see this continued. We hope you enjoyed it as much as we did!

-- Your Admin Team.

[commissioner-mattson]

Night Without End | Self

It was a night without end.

When the blackout had started and all communication had ceased, Charlotte's first instinct was to think of the worst case scenario -- this didn't look or feel like a random power shortage. With no way to contact Parliament or Interpol, or MI5 however, there wasn't really a way to make sure. 

This was before she knew that the power shortage wasn't just a shortage of the main grid -- but every source of electricity and energy throughout the city. Including the security systems. That was when she put out guards.

It didn't surprise her much when the first officers came back, speaking of people looting. "Just do your job," She'd said, fists clenched at her sides -- she'd armed her officers, as a precaution. Special circumstances allowed for members of the police to have a fire arm present. Yet she couldn't help but feel that she'd made a mistake, sending anyone out at all. If looting already started, who knew how big it would get? With no way of calling for enforcement, or no way of knowing if anyone was even aware or how fast they would or could come, Charlotte couldn't help but feel she'd sent her own people out to do an impossible, if not life-threatening job.

When the army finally stepped in, it was hours later. The city was in apparant chaos, some officers had never reported back in and the cells were overflowing with looters, firestarters and drunkards. Gun stores had been looted, drug stores had been looted, if there was a time for London's underworld to get out on the street it was this night -- and every cell of her body screamed that she should be out there as well, instead of at the precinct trying to keep control over an uncontrollable situation. "We're taking command now, Commissioner Mattson," He'd been a Sergeant. "With the water canons, we know we'll get them back under control."

But was that such a certainty? She didn't know. All she could do was stare out the window and watch the city and the people she was supposed to protect go up in flames -- the clean up would be massive, the aftermath.. even thinking about it made her heart clench. She couldn't help but feel like she'd failed. Even with their cells overflowing, she still felt like she'd failed. Even knowing that there wasn't anything she could've done better, except for perhaps keep everyone inside or go out herself, she still felt like failure. 

She couldn't leave now. Even with the army taking over, she knew her personel best and she could still keep order.

She suggested to send out people to the hospitals nearby and provide them with whatever they needed, even if it might already be too late.

She suggested the idea of using flares in case of emergencies, knowing cars, firetrucks and ambulances at least, would still run.

She suggested, after some of the prisoners got transported elsewhere, to turn a part of the Yard into an infirmary for every wounded officer that got taken back in. 

And when dawn would finally break and this endless night would end, she'd deal with whatever bridge she had to rebuild before she could cross it then.

[tristan-mckay]

Lucky Strike | Tristan & Gideon

It was only after Jack was well and truly out -- and would be for a couple of hours -- that Tristan went back on the streets again. He was supposed to do his job, after all; Jack hadn't been entirely wrong in saying that there were probably going to be more people needing his help -- or his hand cuffs. Of course, it had been hours since he'd last been at the Yard, so lord knows what was going on there now. 

Still, part of him didn't want to stray too far from his own apartment knowing that he had someone he cared for inside; so he kept to a radius of about three blocks from his place, quietly patrolling the streets. In the distance, the wailing of sirens could still be heard, the shot of guns had taken over the breaking of glass. There was an orange glow hanging over the city, a noxious sort of fog that could only come from fire. 

It was madness, pure and simple. 

Body on high alert, his senses immediately sharpened when he heard a noise somewhere to his right. "Who's there?" He called out, knowing it would be better to announce his position than to startle whoever that was and get himself injured or killed. People would be jumpy, easily spooked, more reckless than normal. Another noise -- it sounded like a groan. No footsteps, though. "Whoever you are, I ain't here to hurt you." Small comfort, perhaps. But hopefully a believable one.

Shining his light into the alley the noise had come from, it alighted a slumped figure against the brick wall. The man looked in bad shape even from afar, arm hanging at a slightly odd angle and if his eyes weren't deceiving him, a small puddle of blood was forming beneath his right leg. Tristan debated for a second. A very brief second. If this was worth it.

Then he shone the light onto the man's face and almost started laughing instead. "Oh, you gotta be kiddin'," He muttered. Finding Jack had been one thing -- but Gideon? "Jesus fuck, all right." Raising his tone again, "My name is Tristan McKay." He took a few steps closer. "You gonna let me help you?"

[margaerycolt]

Really, it's been far too easy for her. Her smaller size just makes taking things from others pockets all the easier. Especially when most seemed to be a good eight inches taller or more. She hasn't taken much, just what she deems the necessities. Little sparkly pieces she spots walking past, the occasional knife that she'd toss away due to lack of value. The only thing she truly plans on keeping is the gun she nicked off some poor bloke who seemed to have been shot himself before getting a chance to use it.

Really, all she needs now is a way to access private records. Her brother might have that access, but right now it'd be useless to her. She just wishes she got the information she needed before this mess. All too easily she would have been able to complete her desires by then. 

Of course, she's keeping the gun hidden on her; just as she has a dagger hidden just under her dress and excessively sharp, slim darts hidden in her glove. It's not as if she could feel them digging into her skin, after all. 

She's not as careless as these other criminals are. She knows you can never be certain where a cop might be lurking. That's how she was caught years ago, though, she doesn't exactly remember what for. 

Though, she was sure she was alone right now. Trying her best to seem frightened of the fires flaring about around her. Now, she was just on her way back home. There's hardly a need to keep out here when she found what she wanted. but, the sound of careful footsteps around her cause her to almost freeze. If it's someone bad, she can injure them, blind them, plenty of options there. But if it's someone good...

"Right, you're not exactly as quiet as you seem to think you are. Mind telling me why you're lurking about?" 

[lucasafelix]

Instinct.

Lucas was very sure of a few things in his life:

People were generally fucking imbeciles. It was in their nature to act as if there was something, at all times, worth being dramatic over. A city-wide blackout was one of them, apparently.

He was not fond of people raising their voices at him. His own never got higher than needed. Then again he knew how to use proper diction, how to ensure that his words were read properly despite the volume. See number one -- people never learned.

He did not like having a gun in his face.

When the power went out his time at the bank was drawing to a close. The bank. Who wouldn't attempt to rob it? The high-tech safe was free to roam, useless without power circulating to ensure that every little knick knack remained in place. He wasn't too fond of being manhandled, either but that took a close second to the gun-meet-face and happened in some beautiful synchronization that he would never be able to properly describe if asked.

He had refused to bend onto his knees. So the opportunistic robbers slammed the butt of their gun into his mouth and he tasted blood for it, but even so he refused to allow the expensive material of his suit to gather dust and grime ... or really whatever else was on the ground from the bankgoers shoes. He looks smart, have him lead us around the bank. Bloody great idea. He didn't deny them this chance, instead he pressed his hands into his pockets (and they threw a cow about that) and lead them on a small tour. Sarcasm dripping from his lips, many threats of shooting him but they didn't.

It was in the mouth of the vault he stood while they marauded the spoils, one man lazily "keeping an eye" on him. His own eyes wandered around carelessly and he did not answer the "Don't you give a shite that we're taking all of this?" He didn't. Why would he? How could he? This far into the bank there was nobody else around -- just three would-be robbers and a banker who couldn't give less of a care. The decision was easy, a snap, one that had filled his mind the moment they slammed their gun into his mouth. Two steps forward he took, tongue pressing against the split in his lip.

"Don't fucking move," the one closest to him commanded. Lucas did not stop the lazy stroll. The man moved for his pistol. "Funny thing, this," Lucas sighed, finally turning voided hues to the man's visage. "So far into the vault, nobody's going to know you're here."

"Sounds like he's threatening you. Shoot him."

"I am," Lucas smirked, a small chuckle leaving his mouth. "But what can I do? I'm unarmed, a wee little banker versus three men who clearly have no regard for my life."

"Just fucking shoot him."

"Shoot me. Go on." He stopped before the robber, the other two desisting in their actions. "Tch. Oh, well."

He was fast. Hands reached for the throat of the man, grasping at the windpipe and crushing, turning his body to the others, digits of the free hand grasping at the wrist attached to the pistol. Enough sudden force and quickness allowed him to use the man as a shield -- his mate firing at Lucas and instead piercing into the torso of the robber. With a sputter he eked away, and instantly the banker snatched the pistol and opened fire on the other two.

The brevity of the firefight was nominal. Loud shots ringing in the vault for all of twenty seconds before only Lucas stood -- bloodied, bullet lodged in his right shoulder, but otherwise unscathed. Three sagged corpses slowly leaking life fluid into the open vault, staining currency and valuables. Glaring down at the hole in his shoulder, Lucas pressed at the suit and hissed for the pain of it.

He did not like being shot. Funny, how he hated things revolving around guns so well this evening. Dropping the weapon onto the floor he shifted from the vault, back out to the main foyer, to the main door. "Mother fucker," trailed from his lips along the way, hand pressing to the open wound, attempting to contain the blood, "Bloody London."

[the-manic-heart]

Hours have already passed

But it is not nearly morning yet.

London is littered in glass and alight with fire, it almost seems like no store has been left untouched. 

The army has finally made their appearance and it seems that with their watercanons and heavier artillery, they are slowly making progress into cleaning up some of the chaos. Countless of looters and troublemakers have already been contained by the police patrolling the streets, but it seems like for every arrest they make, a new threat takes its place and there is seemingly no end in sight yet.

Parliament is still unclear on what is happening, but it will be ruled a terrorist cyber attack. 

The Yard has become too small to contain the detenees, so a large group are in the process of being transfered to an army facility. Hospitals have started using car batteries as power generators, but it's never quite enough.

And the fire is still burning and the wolves are still howling.

So.. where are you now?

[greysonbytrade]

Darkness Falls (Self)

There was still a good hour before the subway would arrive for him to go back to his flat, yet the lights came off right then and there. Of course, it didn't help that the entirety of the power seemed to be out, and the door was an electric lock. One that seemed to have been set on lock before he could leave. 

Now, he knows fully well how to trick the lock, even while the power's out, but that would take far too much time, and it's far too dark for him to make sure he cuts the proper cords. So, he chooses the easier route. He could just say someone broke and entered to the owners in the morning. So, he went ahead and broke open the register too, just to take a bit of the cash to add to his story. Then, taking a metal vase, he tossed it at the large glass window, breaking it. Though, he doesn't want to keep the money, so naturally, he just dropped it at the window. Let any idiot who wants to cut themselves on broken glass get to it.

That's when he took his leave. Like hell he was gonna stay locked inside all night. He's dealt with power outages before, and he knows how long it takes for them to be fixed half the time. He'd be lucky if his sideline business could still be in focus for the rest of the week. Of course, the last time he dealt with these, it was a week long and in Florida. 

So now, Greyson's out on the streets, making his way down to Eastern London to get to his flat. There are a few advantages he could take to this power out, but he's still unsure of whether he should. He could get what he needs at any time, and his morals are much higher than that of a petty thief. It's all based on choice, what choices the boy could make. What makes it all best for him. 

[lakarodriguez]

where the light won't find you || open

Laka didn't intend to put herself in the line of fire. She didn't intend to leave her penthouse at all, truth be told - but one of the women working for her had had an appointment when all hell broke loose, and she wasn't about to send Liam through the streets alone to look for her. She'd been completely ready to just drive to the hotel with Liam and take care of business, but with the chaos, it seemed better just to go on foot, sticking to the back ways she'd learned early in her career, the pistol her father had given her so long ago in a shoulder holster, hidden by a suit jacket.

Liam was at her side, much jumpier than her at that moment, ready to put down anyone who got too close, but Laka was single minded. Go out, get the woman, keep her safe. That was all she cared about. She rounded a corner and paused, trying to get a better look at the person a few feet away, cloaked in the dark.