2019-08-07 - Shot the Sheriff

To say that the last few weeks have been stressful would be an understatement, and so is her desperate need for a scotch. And while normally picky about her scotches, Isabella Reede realizes that today, she doesn't give a damn if it's younger than eighteen years old so long as it's something.

A day spent mired in paper and texts of considerable weight, the foray outside of her houseboat to catch some sun and air leads her to the threshold of Two if By Sea, eyecatching enough for the reference to a Sandra Bullock romantic comedy movie as well as its position by the water. The door shouldered open, quick, brisk strides take her from the front door and towards the counter in a quick clip; three months since her return to her hometown and she has yet to shed the pace she has cultivated in her years of living in more metropolitan city, unable to adjust the speed in which she lives her life to match the every day cycles of the infinitely sleepier Gray Harbor. And like with most things, she is utterly unapologetic about it.

She should look tired, and while some traces of fatigue and the weight of a recent, devastating loss lingers on her shoulders and aura, the archaeologist doesn't advertise the fact that she is in mourning. She is dressed like any young graduate student anywhere, and others would be forgiven if they simply assumed she was just yet another one from the mass influx of young college twenty-somethings that had hit the town recently, her personal style straddling the cusp of fashionable and functional; designer jeans, sandals, a spaghetti-strapped top spooled from loose magenta silk, the otherwise daring cut kept modest by the addition of a light Navy-style jacket. Her hair is in the careless bind that she favors, done up with the sort of feminine apathy that leaves it looking artfully disheveled instead of an actual mess. She wears no jewelry save for the moonstone pendant she is never without, like her own personal fragment of the Aurora Borealis worn close to her heart, motes of color strafing over fabric.

She brings nothing with her today, save a wallet and the black ribbon around her left wrist that marks her grief. Her smile is welcome enough, though, when she reaches the counter and patiently waits for her turn on the drink queue.

Isolde has claimed a seat at the bar of Two if by Sea. Humming quietly as she peruses her phone. Searches going from 'used cars' to 'houses for rent' to 'how to get a driver's license' to 'origami lizards' . She is wearing a pair of black jeans with a black tank top and even though it's way too hot - her ragged flannel is on. She also has a small stack of origami paper and is nursing some pretty looking non-alcoholic cocktail. Hair pulled back into a loose ponytail so it wouldn't keep falling into her face.She really should get it cut one of these days.

Minerva is sitting at the end of the bar with her hat still on and next to a taller man that resembles her. It's a familial resemblance. Not someone that is wearing all black and gothy looking. The man is dressed in a nice looking suit jacket, a crips white shirt and jeans with sneakers. They aren't speaking in English either as they look through a portfolio it seems. She's ordered vodka. Because it's been never ending fuckery the last few weeks.

Behind the bar Easton is dressed in his usual bartending uniform of a black dress shirt open at the collar over dark jeans. He moves easily down the bar taking orders and chatting with the few customers. After the few months he's been here, he's gotten to know many of them or at least seen them around town here or there. He pours drinks for Minerva, giving her a small nod of recognition and then asks Isabella what kind of scotch. The bar is very well stocked with a larger variety than the Pourhouse because it caters to a slightly higher end touristy crowd that cares a little more about precisely how they get shitfaced. The only hint that Easton's week has been a bit weird is the strange amount of cologne he's wearing. He's not much of a scent guy normally but apparently he really wanted to smell good tonight. Or at least smell strongly.

Bennie has been practicing what is known as 'down time', and one of these days she might just get the hang of it. Right now she's trying her hand at a game of quarters with no opponent, just trying her hand at bouncing the coin into an empty shot glass. With a clatter of metal in glass and a resounding, "WOO!" The blonde must've sunk one, celebrating with the person next to her, stranger or no.

"... and then he said it just ended up there, and he wasn't really sure how it happened. Like he woke up like that." Sutton leans against the table she shares with a swarthy man, picks up a rocks glass garnished with orange. "I mean that, you know, no. So then he says he could have sat on it. No dude, fly your freak flag high. Own it, move on. Well. Try not to fall off the gurney and the ER will take care of the rest." She sips her drink through a tiny stir straw rather than putting her mouth on the rim of the glass itself. "We held it mostly together until we had to call it in." Sutton pulls a twist of orange from her glass and runs the rind around the edge, finally making note of Ruiz's expression as he sips his drink. "And the rest was basically a couple of drunks and a DOA natural causes." She's been like this all day.

Isolde looks up as the man hurries in. She peers at him, then to Easton, then to the man. Then to the money. Finally, to Easton again. She doesn't speak, but her expression clearly says she's sure this man is crazier than she is. Then back to the man. "Who are you?" Curious, because he's a new face, but also because she is certain he is crazy.

At the bar, it's Isolde that Isabella notices first; the colorful stack of origami paper catches her eye, recognizing it for what it is. There's a faint smile, but before the green-eyed scholar-at-large can determine whether the other woman is an enthusiast of some sort, Easton gravitates to her side of the bar. "Oh, uh, the Glenlevit 18, double shot," she says, nodding to the bottle she sees at the rows of liquor behind Easton's shoulder - and looking incredibly relieved that it's there. That expressive face can't hide it for the life of her.

The newcomer gets a glance and the frown directed at her has those slender eyebrows arching upwards faintly. Green-gold eyes also fall on the silver coin he places on the bar just as Isolde decides to interrogate him.

Minerva gives a dip of her head to Easton, "Hey." she tells him. She looks like she's trying to think too hard over the stuff she's going over. So she looks back down to things to pay attention to what her brother is telling her about numbers. The there's a look to the coin that the man puts on the counter. Were we in the Continental and she missed it. Oh wait, those are gold. She doesn't bug the man at all.

Ruiz's expression, for note, is somewhere between bemused and morbidly curious how someone wakes up like that. The off duty cop is dressed in his usual down time 'uniform' of faded tee shirt, jeans, leather jacket. Drink in hand, he murmurs without a trace of a smile, "Well, I hope they managed to get it out. I'd say he's not going to be doing that again any time soon, but." But.

The entrance of Mr. Mustache with his silver coin garners a brief glance from the man, but it doesn't linger.

Sutton shakes her head, "I don't doubt they did. He's going to do it again. I know it." She glances over Ruiz's shoulder to the weirdo at the bar, catching part of that shoooo-wheee. She squints, casts a look down his attire, and asides to the cop, "Hipsters ruin everything except food trucks."

"Chuck?" Easton frowns and looks at the newcomer with a curious expression before getting Isabella her drink first and then picking a much cheaper whiskey for the new guy. At the crack about smelling like a whorehouse Easton sniffs himself and then decides, "That's fair." Look it's better than smelling like rotting zombie guts. "But I'm not Chuck and pretty sure we haven't exchanged whorehouse tales yet buddy." He slides over the drink and then looks down at the silver coin. He picks it up and examines it for a minute before walking over to Bennie, plinking it down expertly in her glass and saying, "This doesn't bode well. Heads up."

"Toooooold yooooou." Bennie tells Easton in a sing song voice of his choice to drown out the smell of death with cologne and aftershave. It garners a light laugh out of the blonde, but she's not really paying attention to who is ribbing her boyfriend beyond noting his Foghorn Leghorn accent. Her tongue sticks out of the corner of her mouth in concentration as she picks up her quarter and tries another bounce.

It isn't the man himself who earns Isabella second look but the coin that he places on the counter; unusual enough that it catches her attention - not that it would be particularly unique, not at first. But she catches the date lining the circumference.

She pauses, and slowly lifts her eyes as the man answers Isolde's question, examining his profile. Her heart attempts to stage a jailbreak then.

Try not to come from a place of anger.

Her hand reaches for her back pocket and attempts to keep her posture as casual as possible, eyes sweeping the room. Ruiz, accompanied by the paramedic she remembers in her first night back, is glimpsed somewhere at the back of the room and she attempts to try and keep her fingers from shaking as she types a quick message and sends it.

To Billy as he turns that hateful face at Isolde, eyes suddenly brimming with unadulterated fury lock on the man. "Leave her alone," she says, quietly.

Bennie looks up at her glass with a little 'hmm' as the silver coin gets plunked into her glass, narrowing her eyes at the coin. "I'm pretty, but I dunno about tip money pretty." She dumps out the shot glass and nudges the coin like its cursed pirate treasure.

Minerva gives a look over to the man when he introduces himself as Billy. She knows that somethings off. She nudges her brother and speaks in Yiddish to him. But she gives a look back to Billy, "You from around here, Billy?" the one eyed woman asks with a smile.

Isolde blinks at the man, and his old timey words. And why does he keep calling Easton, Chuck? He seems nice enough though. She feels bad for him, because he is clearly lost! "My name is Isolde." She offers with a smile. But then, that smile falters. Because she's hears Isabella's voice telling the man to leave her alone. She looks over her shoulder to see the source of the words and suddenly feels a little nervous and uncertain as Isabella looks SO ANGRY. Then slowly she looks back to Billy. Like she wants to say something more, but doesn't. Instead her hand reaches for a piece of her origami paper to fiddle with it while Minerva talks to him.

Ruiz does a bit of a double-take as his brain seems to catch up with his eyes, or his eyes with his brain. Or possibly, it's the fact that his phone goes off a moment after Isabella's finished sending her message. He frowns slightly, slips it out of his pocket, then swivels a fraction to gaze steadily at the fellow who's taken a seat beside her.

To Sutton, he speaks quietly, "This isn't right. He shouldn't be here." The phone is shoved back into his pocket after he replies, and his hand reaches under his jacket for something else. But doesn't yet pull it out. Likely because that something else is probably going to cause some large-scale panic once it's revealed.

Looking over at Isabella, and specifically the look in her eyes Easton raises a hand half-way up at her silently asking her not to start anything. She looks like she's about to jump the bar and jam something in the man's face and while Easton appreciates the thought he'd also like to keep things as non-stabby as possible for the time being. He half turns to Bennie and is about to tell her to leave when he remembers their rules, so instead he just gives her a tight-half smile.

Clearing his voice he addresses Billy. "Billy! Buddy." He looks him up and down and doesn't have time to say anything else before the 'cops' arrive. He looks around the bar and says, "Everyone, stay calm. Billy here is going to walk the fuck out of the bar and surrender peacefully. Aren't you? Billy." He gives the man his best intense look while he mentally counts the knives at the tables.

1. In case you were wondering.

Minerva hears the megaphone and there's a bit of a look to her brother as she picks up her vodka and finishes it in one pull. "Ah fuck." She settles the glass down and then looks to Billy, watching his movements. Then when he pulls the gun she closes her eyes and lays her hands on the bar top, "It's about to get really fucking bad in here." she whispers to her brother.

"Yeah, the 'stache is was over at the turn of the century," comes Sutton's reply to Ruiz. She's joking, but something about his posture shuts her mouth. Probably it's the way he's reaching for his jacket. She glances over at Ruiz, the back to the bar. A couple weeks back, hell, even last week, Sutton would have assumed this was some kind of misguided dinner theatre flash mob situation in a bar (wrong crowd, homies). She glances down the bar, to Isabella, Bennie, Easton. Something in the back of her brain is getting that not normal feeling again. The one she had at the hospital when Bennie ended up dead for a few seconds.

It's the pistol that most certainly has her attention. She only has a knife. A small, folding knife. A two inch blade she dug out of her boxes when the first murder went down at Bayside. She slides out of her seat and gets low beside the table. Her dress is too short for this, but nobody cares.

That tight smile from Easton sets off all sorts of warning bells in Bennie's mind, and then she's standing slightly from her stool when the call for surrender comes from outside and the resounding answer from their new friend Billy here, who thinks they'll all be pleased as punch to die with him. Bennie hops up on the bar and swings her legs over, because the agreement she has with Easton is that there are dangerous things that need doing, but there is no sense in being stupid about it. And that includes taking cover while the taking is good.

Try not to come from a place of anger.

And it is getting increasingly hard. Isabella is trying to do the right thing. She sent the text to the only member of the police department she has a relationship with, who happens to be present. She hasn't reached for the nearest stool in an attempt to bludgeon her mother's murderer into a bloody pulp in the middle of the barroom floor. Those fierce and furious eyes lock into Easton's when she sees him gesture from somewhere behind Billy, even as the man stares at her confusedly. The proprietor of the establishment is clear enough, no matter how silent the message actually is.

But it's difficult. She takes a breath through her nose, grips the counter in an effort to rein in her ridiculous temper. And then the pistol comes out.

Try not to come from a place of anger.

The closest person to the man with the pistol other than her is Isolde and she moves to get within range of her in the event that she has to do something protective.

Well, so much for things remaining calm and reasonable. Ruiz's hand pulls free of his jacket, and there's a glint of ambient lighting off the Sig Sauer P220 Legion he normally carries on his person while off duty. The slide is racked once, barrel held low while his dark eyes make a quick assessment of sight lines and the positioning of those.. cops? God, this is about to get fucking weird. "Stay behind me," he grunts to Sutton, not turning to look at her. He's simply going to have to trust that she trusts him.

Pulling knives off the table to try and stab at Billy's gun hand, the knives clatter harmlessly into the bar as Easton snarls. He ducks behind the bar and crawls behind to get the pistol he has stashed up under the bar that the rest of staff likely doesn't know about. But it's licensed!

"No shit. I'm really glad you eat so many donuts, love." Sutton says to Ruiz, moving to use him as a body shield, because she's not about to get shot today.

"Go out the back. I'll be fine." Minerva tells Ciprian as the older of the Kosimar siblings stands to try to intervene. "Please go." she tells him. Then she turns to focus on what's going on.

Isolde seems very conflicted, gripping the origami paper like a vice. She's got a defensive sort of posture. Like a feral cat almost. Ready to attack at anything that tries to threaten her. She notices Isabella coming near her. She takes the woman's hand and slides off her stool to duck down when bullets start flying, as if encouraging her to do the same.

And things go to hell in a handbasket in a hurry.

Isabella's patience finally snaps, and she reaches to grab a bar stool from the counter, moving to engage once Easton's got Billy's attention. But she only manages to take a step before Isolde grabs her hand. It reminds her, then. There are other people who can handle this. She'll have to depend on Ruiz. "Okay," she tells Isolde and turns to follow her.

But then something twigs her. Her eyes whip to the front and before she realizes it, she is moving. Her arms suddenly shift, her body curling over Isolde's protectively as shells start to fire. A bullet punches into her and she manages to bite back a cry.

Do no harm. Bennie's not a doctor, but she likes to think she lives by that rule. Does that count when it's a matter of self defense and the people that are shooting at them have stepped right out of the past? Technically, all this happened years ago, so would it have any actually effect on history. Would it really matter if she took down a few to protect herself and the others in the bar? Oh god, the bar. It's the closest to a baby as he's ever going to get. Protect the baby!

Technically the dog will be the closest thing to a baby that Bennie and Easton will share, but it's not really the time to quibble over future 'children'. He sees Isabella get shot and he calls out "Bennie, one GSW opposite side of the bar." He doesn't know if Bennie needs to see to heal but maybe she can just Glimmer-feel? Is that a thing? "Izzy? She okay?" He calls out to Isolde but doesn't vault the bar just yet.

Isolde makes an involuntary yelp as Isabella gets shot. She starts to move to try and check on her. "Are you o-" Her question is cut off as she feels the sting of a bullet hitting HER. It's not bad, she doesn't think. It hurts like a motherfucker but she doesn't think she's dying. She pulls Isballea a little closer. "It's okay. It will be okay. Are YOU okay?" Her words coming hushed, rapid. She winces as she thrusts a bar stool out of the way with her foot and tries to get she and Isabella a little farther from the gunfire.

Another bullet flies through, but Isabella's body alone will not be enough, this time, to protect Isolde. But she attempts to keep the woman in her grip, stubbornly hanging on. "I'm fine," she breathes, hearing the query somewhere behind the bar. "I'm fine. Everything's going to be okay." And when she moves, she forces herself to plant a foot against the floor and half-drags herself and Isolde towards what is presumably a place of safety.

Adrenaline feels like fire, coursing white hot through her open veins. She feels her own blood run down her hip and arm in rivulets. It does nothing for her anger, though, because she keeps getting shot at and really, there's only so much a woman can take in one week.

She turns her attention on the shattered glass and attempts it. Deep within, somewhere inside of herself, she plunges her fingers into that churning corona of potential and fury and with a cry, attempts to will them to fly and turn their sharp edges towards Billy Gohl. The bullets feel real enough, she hopes she can do something instead of sitting there like a bullet sponge.

Ruiz rolls to his feet fairly quickly, for a man of his build and apparent lethargy, pistol braced in both hands as he sights along the crowded room. The only clear shot he has is on one of the pistol-toting yeehaws, and he strafes left, and fires. The hit is good, but doesn't seem to slow the guy down much.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of one of the men lining up a shot on Sutton. His weapon's transferred to his right hand while the left attempts to provide some meagre cover for the woman, and he fires again.

Minerva's brother disappears behind the counter, because this is the WEIRD SHIT that he's used to dealing with. She stands up from the bar and she just shocks Billy with the current from her hands. Apparently people could do that. The gunshots worry her, but she can't really track them while her attention is on Billy.

Sutton stays down when the rounds fly, when the glass shatters, when all hell breaks loose and the old timey cops fire first. She keeps all of the f-bombs inside, so as not to distract Ruiz from taking his shot. She stays low, squeezing behind cover as much as possible. She's going to have to wait for them to come in to be effective in a fight. Hand to hand skill means precisely dick when everybody else was smart enough to bring a pistol. She sucks in a breath and squeezes down closer to the floor, presenting the smallest possible target.

There is a verbal squeal from Bennie, but this time it's not one of excitement. It's the type that's close to 'oh my god I'm gonna pee my pants' as bullets eat up the bar, splitting wood and some sluicing flesh. Her hand extends over the bar, fingers trembling with a little muttered apology as they close into a fist, her eyes pinching shut against the outcome.

"Oh fuck this." Non combatents are getting shot in his bar and he's firing back with a pistol. Where is his M16A4? Easton grunts as he feels the outside of blast from a shotgun rip his arm. He stands up to launch an attack at the cops, who are by far doing more damage than Billy. Hearing a noise that sounds a little too familiar he calls out, "Bennie? You good?" Not realizing his girlfriend has just crippled the Sheriff outside. "Can you get behind the bar?"

Isolde is feeling all kinds of mixed emotions right now. Mostly pain and confusion. The noises are loud, there's people getting hurt, including herself. Then she feels ANOTHER bullet whizz by! It grases the side of her head and this also HURTS LIKE HELL. But it also makes her angry. She growls a litle. A feral sort of sound. Pushing herself up some, as if on instinct, trying to summon up the energy to follow Isabella's suit and fling shards of glass!

Some sort of profanity-laced Spanish issues from Ruiz as his shot misses by a hair. He's lining up another one, when he notices Isabella get plugged pretty squarely by a rifle round. "Bebe," he murmurs to Sutton without looking over at her, "do you think you can make it to her?" He jerks his chin in Isabella's direction, and pushes forward to give her some cover fire.

"I'm okay..." Bennie answers Easton in sort of a whine, already one step ahead of him in that whole 'getting behind the bar' situation. Her free hand is gripping the edge of it with a white knuckle force as her extended fist twists to attempt to add insult to injury of the Sheriff. Maybe if she can stop him, the rest of the posse's steam will run out. Her eyes stay pinched closed, half crumpled into her hidey hole.

A stool is flung out the window and crashes against the deputy, as Easton stands behind the bar. He keeps track of the headcount and notices that at least someone is aware that Billy may be firing at cops now, but that may only last so long. He spares Minerva a nod before catching up as much silverware as he can manage to feel and swirling it together. "Just like rice.." He can't help but remind Bennie of her chastising him for using Glimmer to pick up. Except he didn't stab any old timey cops with the rice.

If this isn't proof that the Addingtons are genetically predisposed to wiping out certain parts of her family tree even while re-enacting some sort of stand-off from the past, this is proof in the pudding. Another bullet slams into her and Isabella nearly caves right into Isolde at the force of it. Blood fills her mouth, but adrenaline spurs her on as she moves where Isolde will. She doesn't know who manages to keep getting her from the outside, but after this third shot, she is suddenly torn between trying to murder Billy's timelooped spectre or the Addingtons trying to (accidentally?) kill her outside.

But the woman she is trying to protect stands up and she finds her grip flagging. She slumps on the side of the bar. The pain at least helps her focus and she turns her furious eyes towards the shattered walls. "Stop...fucking...shooting at me," she hisses, and hurls everything she has at towards the outside, blowing out the rest of the glass shards she can scoop up with her mind in a frantic, desperate effort.

Isolde doesn't know if her attack lands anything, and doesn't have to process it as she is hit yet again. In the chest. It's a miracle her heart hasn't been hit yet. She slumps against the bar, refocusing on Isabella. "It'll be okay." She muttered, sinking back down to try and cover Isabella - who is much more wounded than she is. Murmuring in French. Quick, frantic, but they're supposed to be some kind of comforting. Maybe?

Minerva cocks her head to the side as she stares down at Billy, "William Gohl I presume." she whispers. "You don't want to go to jail?" she asks him as she takes a knee. "If you've got enough energy to shoot me, go for it. But you killed people." she looks him in the eyes.

Ruiz, for whatever reason, seems to be like catnip to those old timey cops. How the hell he's managed to stay standing so long is a testament to either luck or their terrible aim, but it looks like one of those is about to run out. Fred and his shotgun finally take the bullet magnet down a few pegs; he wavers slightly as his shoulder explodes in a spray of blood from the heavy slug, and then grasps the edge of the bar to try to lower himself to the floor slowly. A few harsh pants as the pain courses through him. Adrenaline, for now, seems to keep the worst of it at bay.

Bennie twists her hand back in the other direction, knowing in the Dreams this is what has worked to not only break bones but subsequently shattered them. When she hears the cry of victory that Billy is down, she dares to open her eyes. But they keep coming! Her eyes round out as she realizes on of those men is aiming right in her direction, and she swivels her fingers in that direction.

"Hold your God damn fire!" Easton roars at the cops outside, "Billy's down!" He can't hear that the Sheriff is well aware of that fact and would like to fire anyway. All he hears is the Sheriff roaring for his boys to keep firing, and that's enough for Easton to pick up a table. It's table flipping time. But with Glimmer. And less housewives style drama, sadly. He catches sight of Ruiz getting hit and that just causes more many jaw clenching for now.

Sutton quite likes her cover. This, this right here is why she carries a vest in the rig. "Probably." Maybe, she says, maybe. There's something in her voice that wasn't there before. She takes a sharp breath, and turns to look across toward the bar. Just as another volley of terrifyingly loud rounds rip through everything, spitting bits of booth, table, bar, upholstery, and little bitty sprays of blood. Sutton's not looking at Ruiz when he's hit, but she hears it. "Probably not."

The last shot that manages to hit her leaves Isabella looking almost dreamy, when she looks down at crimson blossoming over her sternum. Her body starts to slide, towards where Isolde has taken cover next to her. Her voice is somewhat fuzzy, unable to discern what the other woman is saying to her. It's lilting, musical, beautiful, but she doesn't understand it.

"You should go..." she whispers. "The back door...don't stay here. Don't..."

Her senses are still working though, stubbornly refusing to go down when she should. Her eyes shift back to the front, towards Minerva standing over Billy. Even now she can feel a bit of envy. She was the one who wanted to...Billy Gohl took from her, he...

"Kill him," she murmurs, though in the middle of the ruckus she isn't sure if she could be heard. As the Addington boys bust in, she turns to look up at the shadow crossing hers, meeting Jim's impassive stare right in the eyes before the ch-chk of a rifle is the last thing she remembers hearing.

Isolde is not gonna let this woman die. And, once she actually realizes WHO the woman is, she doubly won't let her die. She can't heal things by magic. But she can try to at least do something to stem the bleeding. She takes off that ragged flannel and starts apply pressure. "Stay awake! Stay with me.Don't die!" Trying to keep her awake and stop the worst of the blood flow.

Ruiz is hit again, but still will not fucking die. Because he's a stubborn asshole, that's why. The round goes through his gun-toting hand though, and he drops it as he's knocked back against the bar. He watches the deputy, lifts his left hand toward him like he's trying to beckon him closer. But what happens instead, is an arcing bolt of electricity surges from his fingers and crackles across the room.

Something, some piece of shrapnel or hot lead grazes her arm, but so much debris has been raining down on her, Sutton barely notices the sting. That is some serious adrenaline surging through her system, and she's riding the edge of losing her calm. It's not the gun battle. It's not the blood. It's her brother haunting her even now, without being here. "Javier Ruiz de la Vega. I will kill you if you fucking die." Welp, lost hold on that fbomb, didn't she.

"Seriously? You're shooting up my bar, calling me Chuck and literally twirling a mustache? Are you trying to win the douche awards?" Easton has had about enough of this Glimmer stuff and reaches back down for previously discarded Sig Sauer P320, which he levels at the Sheriff with a calm steady hand.

Bennie's lip curls upward as she closes her fist aimed at Frank, but what she didn't see is that Joe was aiming at her too. She feels the pfft of the shotgun pellet as it whizzes past her, digging a furrow through the material of her shirt. Yup. That's it. She's officially freaked out now. She ducks down behind the bar before she completely loses it, frantically checking for damage to her person. "Get'em baby." Bennie looks up at Easton with all her will poured into the glance. .

Minerva presses her forehead into the gun, but there's a moment taken to reach out and grab Billy by the face after the gun slips away. "My first murder might be tonight." she tells him. "If you're guilty of the things they say then it's more like an execution...and you aren't real. So that's less on my conscious." she states. She can feel the emotions, it's...odd. So very odd to feel his sadness and things. "Why do you hate Addington so much." she asks him point blank. "What did he do?" she adds.

Her dead weight slides down onto the floor once Isolde starts stemming the bleeding, Isabella's green eyes mere, thin slivers of vibrant color under the heavy drape of her lashes. She says nothing else, because she can't, limply moving at the other woman's every whim. The moonstone pendant that gleams on her shirt winks at her Good Samaritan, swirling colors of blue and green and white marred, now, with deep crimson streaks.

Under Isolde's hands, the chest wound that the archaeologist has sustained slowly stops bleeding.

Ruiz tries valiantly to stay conscious, but just can't contend with all of those men gunning for him. He goes down in a veritable hail of gunfire before he really manages to get anything off, and crashes to the floor where he proceeds to bleed real good.

Isolde watches Isabella with wide, worried eyes, her flannel is soaked in blood and later on that'll be a whole other ordeal. It isn't important right now. She doesn't fully realize that the bleeding as actually stopped yet. Instead she's putting pressure on another wound too. Trying to stop someone from dying. Because dying was a bad thing. Especially with whatever the hell was going on right now. A Dream maybe...potentially. Or something else. Whatever it was. It was bad.

"What did I just say to you." Sutton's teeth lock down hard and she catches Ruiz's head before he can slam down to the floor. She helps ease him down, at least his top half. He's kind of a heavy carry. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." All fbomb control is lost. It's fine, though, her hands know what to do. If anyone, anyone comes near her to try any arresting business, she's going to have to get nasty. Nasty.

Watching the Ruiz go down, Easton glances at Bennie who is taking cover behind the bar. It's starting to feel more and more like this is not going to end well for anyone in the bar. He does at least notice Isolde treating Isabella though which reminds him that his firefight experience isn't necessarily one hundred percent. But the odds are definitely against him, and at least the cops have stopped shooting people. So he lowers the gun. But he's also not about to be arrested by these people at least not without a fight. He bounces the first guy's head off the bar and makes sure than Bennie is away as well before he books it.

Isolde doesn't want to get arressted! She's been there, done that enough. But she's also been shot twice and also has a grazed head wound. Not as bad as some got it, but it's enough that when she tries to fight off the handcuffs she fails and they manage to get her!

Minerva looks over things as they are drug out of the bar in cuffs. She fights a little, but she's a bit too in her thoughts to do much. Something feels so wrong about things. About Sheriff Addington and William. "That's why he's back." she mutters. When everything disappears there's a frown at the college students, "Yeah. Bar fight. It's how I lost my eye." she gives them a thumbs up and then turns away from them to check the wound. "Gross." she whispers. Then she's starting to walk off. Because there was a ton of shit to try to parse through.

Isolde is laying there, in the sand, staining it with blood and trying to regain some energy. Alexander was not going to be happy about this. Her eyes dart to Isabella, dragging herself over to the woman to try and check on it. Giving her a gentle shake. "Are you okay?" Voice soft, expression worried, trying to see if she was awake at all yet. If she could wake her up. "Do we call for help?" She asked Easton, looking completely unsure. Like 'Yes, obviously but also what are we supposed to tell them?'

Bennie fled. Boy did she flee. She rushed out the back of the bar towards the Bay only vaguely sure that Easton was right behind her. When she gasps the first lungful of salty air, she glances back over her shoulder only to see all that mayhem is just...gone. If it weren't for the hole in her shirt, she might doubt it even happened at all. But that means if there is damage to her shirt, there is damage too, "We gotta go back in!" Or at least circle around the building to the actually wounded.

Once the cars vanish and reality sets back in Easton tries to look around take stock of who is where and what it actually means or not. He agrees with Bennie "Yea, the captain was down. Glenlevit was down too. Can you...?" He's getting ahead of himself and he forces himself to take a breath and then look to Isolde, "Yes. Call 911. Don't worry about explanations. Bar fight broke out, we have no idea where the assailants are." It's thin, but probably fine. He makes his way back to the bar to make sure he can account for everyone.

Were this any other week, Isabella wouldn't be above thinking this is a dream. But too much has happened in rapid succession to believe that. Carried out of the bar while arrested, the moment the cadre of officers vanish in thin air, she is dropped unceremoniously onto the sand, sprawled on her side. Her dark brown hair spills from the bind it has been clasped in, the metallic clink of her pendant hitting stone.

She's still out like a light when Isolde comes to check on her, but thanks to the woman's efforts, she will live - she'd be able to hear her labored breathing against the grains.

Sutton comes around not long after she's dropped in the sand, momentarily knocked senseless by the butt of a gun from the Sheriff (what an asshole). She squints and tries to get up, successfully doing so with a, "What the fuck." This is rapidly becoming her favorite phrase.

Isolde digs out her phone, which has somehow managed to stay on her and calls 911. Speaking quickly, there was a barfight. Some injuries. Then she's laying down again beside the woman.She doesn't feel so great, but she does manage to type out a text too. But she's staying right here. Next to Isabella to make sure she doesn't decide to die.

Ruiz lies in the sand, sprawled out on his side where one of the old timey cops half dragged, half threw him, before shedding himself into thin air and surf like a lizard losing its skin. The captain.. does not look to be in good shape, after having that many rounds poured into him. He bleeds and bleeds, and it's perhaps a small mercy that he's unconscious and not actually feeling any of it.

Sutton has her hands all over Ruiz, largely spreading blood around and relieving him of his already ruined tee, which is easy enough to rip. Sorry if she bleeds a little from a tiny graze on her arm, Ruiz. No one's going to notice with all the blood already there. She may be breathing a little hard, but she's holding onto her shit. "Jesus Christ, why am I cursed." Not that she's the one riddled with bullets.