Times Square Triage

August 6th, 2014: A runaway bus crashes into Times Square, and it's up to an impromptu group of heroes to get the injured parties to safety.

Times Square

Here, in the middle of New York City, sits Times Square. It is a veritable mecca of tourists, a vital hub for the city's economics. Cars pass, taxies seem to speed by, defying physics, and busses… well… busses pour out smoke into the air.



  • Paramedics
  • Injured bystanders

Mood Music:

How could it be a more perfect day than today? Sun is shining, there is no humidity like the previous days, and there's something of a cool breeze coming off the ocean that is actually making its way through the concrete canyons.

Kurt Wagner is enjoying the day out. Back from Confession at St. Patrick's, the mutant is keeping to the side, keeping to himself amidst the stares. That doesn't mean he doesn't nod at the children who stare, offering something of a smile, or giving the startled parent a light shrug. There are all kinds in the City, and of course, all responses are also very much in evidence from walking faster and avoiding eye contact to the return of a smile.

And here, in the middle of New York City, sits Times Square. It is a veritable mecca of tourists, a vital hub for the city's economics. Cars pass, taxies seem to speed by, defying physics, and busses… well… busses pour out smoke into the air.

With the lull in traffic due to the fact that it is the middle of the week, speeds seem to be taking on something that may more approximate a highway rather than a throughway. Taxis blare their horns, pedestrians now taking their lives into their own hands when crossing, even with the light.


Normally, Sam Wilson avoids the tourist-thronged sections of New York, but today he's not Sam Wilson; he's the Falcon, and none of the tourists can get the altitude to bother him. So as he alights on top of the Condé Nast building, he notes that the plaza is actually kind of pleasant to experience from up here. A familiar wash of noise, bright lights, and a miraculous lack of foot traffic. Another plus: with the general chaos of the jumbotrons and spectaculars, it's pretty unlikely that anyone will notice one guy zipping around on a pair of metallic wings.


It is in this circus that is the city that trouble finds itself. Blasting through a red light at the 6 lane intersection of 42nd and 7th, a double-decker sightseeing bus plows into the crossing of pedestrians and careens into a taxi, only to bounce off it (sending the Yellow Checker spinning into a building) and slams into a second red doubledecker tourbus, pushing its back end over, causing the entire vehicle to slam down onto its side.

Screams rise into the air, tires screech as other drivers slam on their brakes to avoid hitting other pedestrians that are now running away from the scene in any direction they can see as to having an opening.


The crash happens so fast that Falcon doesn't have time to react until it's already over. His jaw drops, and without a moment's hesitation, he leaps off the structure, wings folded back in a graceful (and suicidally rapid) dive. He pulls up and swoops impossibly to perch at the front end of the runaway bus. His first task is to figure out what's going on inside the bus, so he leans over the side and stares down into the driver's seat. If the driver is unconscious, he can just drop inside, yank him out of his seat, and stop the bus himself. If there's something worse going on… well, he'll work out his options when he gets there.


The smashing of vehicles and the breaking of glass (safety and storefront windows) almost is drowned out by the sheer panic of the pedestrians. The horns blaring rises into the air, echoing off the steel and concrete. As a result, traffic is immediately backing up on the major intersections, and of course cars inch forward fully believing that -they- will be the ones to be able to get through.

The taxicab driver's head is pushed forward, the steering column making a dent in his ribcage. The bus that was hit is tipped over, the customers all tangled and jumbled up within.

It is true; everything happens so quickly and it's as if time stands still, leaving the mutant frozen for those heartbeats. It's when time seems to begin to move again that the teleporter puts his ability into use. Yellow eyes catch the movement of someone coming down from the sky, and in the next moment he's gone from his spot, appearing atop the stricken bus (on the ground), and calls out, "Help is coming," before he teleports into the bus to begin extricating people.

As for Falcon, well.. the busdriver is -zoned-. Delerious perhaps, and just not over responsive. His movements are slowed; if the man can tell, certainly under the influence of -something-. That, however, isn't the worst part. It's a double-decker, and screams are coming from both decks.


"Okay, no time for graceful." Falcon sets his gauntlet talon for a two-way grapple, drives a piton into the ceiling of the bus, and then fires again, anchoring the vehicle to a structure behind it. Once it goes taut, it may or may not hold up to the strain of the bus's full acceleration, but he's not going to rely on it alone.

Moving fast, he grabs onto the upper edge of the bus, spins around so that he's upright, and kicks right through the side window. His aim is to knock the intoxicated driver out of his seat, take the spot himself, and slam on the brakes.


Times Square is a mess. Carnage might not be the best word for it, but it is a mess as only New York City can offer. A doubledecker tourbus has blasted through a redlight at speed, causing a great deal of mayhem. Pedestrians crossing with the light are hit, some pushed out of the way, and some actually make it across without dying. Those crossing in the middle of the street run in all directions trying to get out of the way of the vehicles that are now playing a mad game of bumpercars.

The red doubledecker tourist bus, filled with tourists, hits a taxi, then bouncing off that taxi, slams into the backend of another doubledecker tourbus, sending its backend around. It's topheavy, however, and it tips over, trapping those riders inside.

Now, only a few seconds into the 'aftermath', while things are still moving at the speed of light, so it seems, Falcon has done a divebomb down to street level, and has managed to tear open part of the bus in order to get at the driver. First, however, the bus needs to be stopped, and he's set lines out in order to try and tie the bus to anchors to bring it to rest… which is actually successful, minus some damage (cosmetic and otherwise) to the buildings in question.

There is a blue-faced mutant in the doubledecker bus that is on its side, and he's only now beginning to help get people out, tending to those who are trapped as only a teleporter can. It's a bamf! that rises in the air, undoubtedly muted by all else that is going on, as Kurt begins to bring those bloodied and hurt to lie upon the side of the street in relative safety before going out to get more. He's noticed the efforts of the Falcon, and is working on 'support'.


The bus halted, Falcon engages the parking brake and stoops over the driver he just knocked out of his seat. He unzips one of the pockets built into his flight harness and fixes the nearest lucid passenger with a commanding stare. "Hey! Did you see what caused this guy to lose it? I need to know right now." He's a thoroughly trained paramedic, and in addition to interrogating witnesses, he's checking the man's pulse, body temperature, and breathing, trying to identify what might be affecting the man and whether he has something on hand that can counter its effects, or at least keep the man safe until the real ambulances arrive.


Tel really shouldn't be moping on top of Titan Tower. Not that he's exactly moping; it's more contemplative. But he recognizes that it could become moping. Finishing a last slice of pizza, he decides he needs a good fly. Nothing clears the head like flying. He takes off and it's only a few minutes till he's over Manhattan, gazning down at the ground and wondering what's wrong with the computer system that so many vehicles are acting so erratically. He has a bird's eye view of the accident and it occurs to him that there is no computer system! Each of those are individually controlled. It's madness! Swooping down, he picks the biggest mess as the first target and lands by the flipped over bus. His hand glows blue as he reaches for the bus and as the energy spreads, the bus floats upwards as the Earth's gravity loses its hold. "Hold on in there!" he calls. "It's going to right itself in a minute."


Sam was around the corner ordering a hot dog when it happened. "Mhm, some mustard. And the ketchup. Throw on a bit o' that, too. Ah don't actually want to see the dog."

CRASH! SCREECH! BAM! A series of metal-on-metal collisions and a whole lotta screaming. The hot dog can wait. Like Sam, a lot of other bystanders are interested in what's going on, so he has to push and shove his way through the crowd to make any progress. "Ahem, step aside, please. Yes, right over there. Coming through. Ah know you can hear me!" Then he comes to the edge of surrounding crowd and the whole mess opens up to him.

"Damnit!" he swears, rushing into the fray. He spots Nightcrawler straightaway, and heads toward the blue elf. "Kurt! What the hell?"


The people on Falcon's bus, the one that had been careening out of control, slamming into soft pedestrians is finally at a halt. Voices are rising from both levels, some in Mandarin, some in Italian.. and some decidedly in English. (Those in English could teach a sailor a few new words.)

As for the driver, he's… somewhat okay. Ish. For the most part. Thankfully, the amount of drugs in his system means that he's got no muscle tension, so for all the crashing and bashing, there's little resistance and he's virtually injury free. Other than the drugs coursing through his veins, of course.

Kurt is on that bus that Tel is now aiding. Piles of people are lying on the windows on the street side, and as the bus is righted, there's shouts of surprise and a little panic once again.

Kurt is lucky in that as the bus comes aright, he's still attached to the window, so he's sideways, holding a young, unconscious man. "There are many more injured!" he calls out right before he teleports from inside the bus to that selfsame sidewalk area where he'd deposited one other wounded.

Looking up at the familiar sounds of that which is Sam Guthrie making his way towards him, Kurt looks concerned. "There are more wounded, Sam. An accident. That bus…" the one that Falcon has wrangled, "… is the cause."


Once he's satisfied that the driver isn't going to either die on him or start eating the passengers in a drug-induced rage, Falcon props him up in a sitting position and hits the control to open the bus's exits. Once the passengers can get outside, hopefull the tension level will lower.

That done, he's the first to rush back into the street, kicking into the air to scope out the scene. He sees injured people being pulled out of the downed bus; that's definitely where he can do the most good. He drops back down to the pavement next to the wounded people. He's got a pretty comprehensive medical kit in his harness — the Exo-7 was designed with medevac in mind, after all — and he can perform triage until more medics arrive. Bare chest and the blue… demon… guy seem to have the right idea already, but Guthrie seems to be at loose ends.

"Kid!" he calls out, pointing at the cabs that have been hit. "Check the cab drivers. If they can move, get 'em over here. If not, let me know so I can get over there."

Yep, basically just ordering everyone around. Typical ex-military.


Tel waited long enough for what he said to sink in and then it's just a matter of using his powers like he was trained. Negative Gs on the left of the bus, and slowly increasing positive Gs on the right so it slowly roates on its axis. Once it's upright, he lets it float down again to a gently landing.


"Uh huh," Sam tells Nightcrawler, watching the packed bus float and pivot gracefully. "Looks like y'all got this covered."

He turns and is about to bolt over to the cause of the carnage, but notices the situation with that bus has also been handled. That's when Falcon's order rings in his ear. His head jerks and the southerner offers an affirmative salute. "On it!"

At the passenger side of the first taxi that was hit, Sam tugs hard to pull the door open and assess the situation.


As the Falcon takes charge of the scene, working through, Kurt looks towards the man with a nod before he looks over towards Sam with a "Check on them."

Now, crowds are beginning to gather, complete with iPhones picking up the feeds and Vine and YouTube is probably now slowing way down due to overuse of bandwidth. It is a remarkable scene, after all. The appearance of a winged Falcon that manages to stop the bus rather remarkably. The lifting of a doubledecker bus seemingly by magic by Tel. A blue-furred demonic-looking creature taking the wounded to safety. And, of course, the appearance of a rather normal looking young man who seems at ease in such surroundings. (Can just see headlines tomorrow!)

Now, the police sirens are getting closer, though gridlock does its share at keeping the emergency vehicles from getting too close. It's only a matter of time, however, before gurneys, complete with paramedics begin to arrive on scene. They begin to approach the spot where Kurt has the two, and slow to a stop, staring at the blue mutant. Kurt rises to his feet slowly and takes a step back, a nonthreatening move certainly. "Good. Please help them."


Falcon tunes out any magical flying buses and focuses on stanching one of the more badly injured passengers' blood loss. Compartmentalizing like that is one of the skills you absolutely must have to function as a battlefield medic. As far as he's concerned, the universe is currently limited to what helps or hinders his ability to complete his lifesaving task. Accordingly, his dark red wings have folded completely into their housing where they'll be out of the way. He spares the younger Sam a nod and a tight smile at the focus and speed with which he responds to his instructions.

When the real paramedics arrive and can't seem to look away from Kurt, he snaps his fingers at them, irritated. "This ain't the Met," he barks. "Stop staring and get your asses in gear. That woman needs a splint on her left leg; that guy has dislocated his shoulder. All four of those need IVs." He continues to snap instructions in clipped, professional tones, hoping that the quality of his first response care and a bit of jargon will be enough to get them to take him seriously.


Tel does what he can to assist if there's anyone trapped under anything. He is though mindful that the pressure might be keeping bleeding under control. "What help do you need?" he asks the medics.


The cabbie inside is conscious, a little beat up, and seems yet to grasp what's happened. "Yer gonna be alright, sir," Sam tells him.

He pushes aside the limp mass of deployed airbag and removes a pocket knife from his jeans. "Let's get you outta this thing." With a pair of precise cuts, Sam removes the seatbelt as an obstacle and slowly pulls the driver out of the cab. He yells to a nearby parademic, new on the scene. "This one's shook up. Might want to have a look, though."


His appearance really does make things a little more difficult in terms of focussing and attention. But with the blue fuzzy mutant taking those steps back and making the leap towards the newly righted bus, he can push on the door to force it open, thus allowing those who can move to do so and exit the bus. Not as orderly as Kurt would have liked to have seen, but it works.

As for the paramedics, they stare at Kurt for another one, twocount before they attend their patients, the words of Falcon echoing in the area. Time to get to work, work area is secured for their safety as well as their patients'.

The question to them is referred back to the man working gurney-side for transport. It takes a moment to consider a response before, "Triage. Any more injured? How badly?" Witnesses on the ground are rather helpful to have around.

As for other victims, they're coming out as more walking wounded, other than those that Falcon's handling now, though the taxi-driver that Sam's on is more than a little worse for wear, slumped over as he is.

When all the excitement begins to die down and the adrenaline rush subsides, Kurt is able to take a step back and watch for a long moment all the work done to save those lives. There is that moment that threatens him with a bit of philosophy, about the inherent goodness of man, willing to go and help without coercion, but it passes. "I think we will need a traffic police officer for a few hours."


Once Falcon has snapped them back to reality, the paramedics are just as quick and efficient as he was, and soon, he actually has to force himself to step back. They're better equipped and they know each other; he's the outsider working with a field kit. It makes his palms itch to do it, but he knows intellectually that he's done all he can.

He approaches Kurt with a rueful smile. "Sorry about those guys back there. Costumes and powers can mean good or bad — they just needed to know you were on their side." It's perhaps a white lie, but he offers it in appreciation for the mutant's timely assistance.


Triage. Tel's not a medic but they all received basic medical training for emergencies. Still, it pretty much comes down to those unable to move, spurting blood, or screaming in pain that he points them to. "Would it help if your ambulance was here?"


Sam isn't a medic and he's not about to go trying to patch anyone up, especially now that the professionals have arrived. So, he hands off the cabbie to a duo of paramedics and lets them do their job.

He walks over to Kurt and Falcon, offering a curt nod. "Hell of a thing to happen. Y'all know what went down here? 'Sides the obvious." He turns and surveys the scene, gaze falling on Tel briefly before returning to the others.


Kurt is away from the action now, though not looking to fade away into the shadows after work done. No. He's staying put; perhaps to make a statement, or perhaps it's because of his concern. In case his particular abilities are needed, even if they won't be -asked- for. At least not by the paramedics. Or the police.

Looking to the side as Falcon approaches, Kurt extends his hand in greeting. A slight, single-shouldered shrug lifts, though it's not by any measure dismissive. There comes a touch of a lopsided smile to accompany his words, spoken without malice. "I am used to it. At least no one has accused me of trying to steal their souls." He chuckles and gives a full chuckle as his tail swings around to lie on the side of his leg. "It must be the tail." Not that it's something he flaunts, mind. It simply is a part of him.

"I am Kurt Wagner."

Triage. And spurting blood is a pretty good indication of needing medical attention before the girl who really needs to get that appointment in with the manicurist! "Would it help? Hell yeah.. but Traffic isn't going to be able to get anyone to move for hours." No sense worrying over something that couldn't possibly happen. Right?

Sam's approach brings a fuller smile to the blue mutant's face, and he finds he doesn't have to gesture to have his friend stand with the now two. "It happened so quickly, Sam. I think someone ran a red light." Which can have real consequences in the City.


"Bus driver was on something." Falcon frowns and elaborates, "It's weird, though. If he were that out of it, I'm wondering how he even made it out of the station, much less this far. He was either taking something as he drove, or somebody drugged him." He casts a concerned look at the formerly runaway bus, then shakes his head. "But I guess they'll figure all that out at the hospital."

"I'm Sam Wilson, by the way. I think I'm gonna go by Falcon when I've got the wings on, though." He glances at Sam, then at Kurt, quickly gathering that the two know each other, then sweeps his finger to indicate both them and Tel. "You all on a team or something? I know there are a few running around in the city these days."


Tel gives the medics a nod and turns away. "A team? No, exactly." he answers before taking off. "Excuse me a moment." He flies beyond the traffic to where the ambulance is and then uses his powers to negate gravity on it. Once it floats upward enough, he grabs hold of the window and flies it back to the accident site, setting it down in a spot empty of cars or people.


Sam frowns at Kurt's simple explanation of the situation, then snaps his fingers when Falcon chimes in with the part about drugs. "There it is. Something for the papers to really focus on. Might even forget to mention you," he winks and grins at Kurt. Not likely.

To Falcon, he extands a large and weathered hand. "Guthrie. Sam, as well. Nice to meet you." He's about to address the question of being a team or not when Tel chimes in, then flies off. His brow furrows. "Anyone know who he is?"


"A pleasure, Sam." Kurt finishes that introduction, and nods. "It will get a little confusing," and he looks to 'his' Sam. "But I think I will be able to keep you separate."

The question regarding whether or not he's on a team, Kurt hisses a soft breath. "Not exactly?" Well, yes. But he'll go to Confession later for it.

A fuzzy blue elbow hits Cannonball in the ribs at his quip, a gentle nudge. "I am unforgettable. But in this case, I think…" and he looks to where Tel's gone, "… a flying ambulance will get more hits."

But! It is time to go. Kurt returns his attention to the pair of Sams. "I should go now, while the going is good. Danke for your aid, und I hope to see you again." It's to Cannonball that he inquires, "Need a lift home?"

If so? Time to take the Bamf express home!


Smiling, Sam returns the handshake from… other Sam. "Likewise," he answers. "Good to meet you both. And no, he's new to me. And that outfit he's wearing isn't exactly concealing a secret identity. Or, y'know — anything." His teasing grin shifts into awe when Tel returns, however, towing a weightless flying ambulance. "Okay. Just for the record: I would wear that costume in public if it meant I got magic powers like that." He's speaking plenty loud enough for the time-lost science patrolman to hear.

When Kurt makes his parting salutation, the flier offers him a comradely smile. "Good meeting you. Hope to see you around more often."


"I'll make sure you have no problem getting out again." Tel tells the paramedics. "I assume there will be others on the way as well. It will be easiest if you can just swap gurneys out and if you run out of any supplies from yours, to restock from the new arrivals." Glancing over at Falcon, he says "It's not magic. I don't have that ability. It's the manipulation of gravitons."


"It is a pretty sexy," Sam jokes, also in awe of the weightless automobile. That will certainly come in handy.

Back to the pair next to him. "Nice to meet you, other Sam. Ah like those wings you've got. They're real nice." Then to Kurt. "Don't mind if I do. I'm starving!" He readies for the trip through Hell. Always an unnerving experience.

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