2020-02-22 - Trashformers: More Than Meets the Eye

August is here because Eleanor lives at one end of Spruce Street, and he learned from his parents how to thrift. Always check out an estate sale; you never know what someone had lurking in the back of their garage. An otherwise unused air compressor? Complete set of drill bits in metric and imperial? A set of pristine Nat King Cole records? Totally new in box, unused KitchenAid stand mixer? You name it, it'll be in there, somewhere. No skin off anyone's back to look, and anyways, he could use the exercise.

He watches the cat scamper off and the kid flee into the street, keeps a wary eye out for any cars that might need to be warned clear.

It's cold but it feels good on Easton's skin and in his lungs as he runs down Spruce street. Getting out for a run always feels good, except for the part where his leg starts to burn and complain, but even that has just become a part of the routine, almost comforting in it's way. He's dressed in black jogging pants and a lightweight long sleeve top that is loose enough to conceal the fact that he never goes out unarmed. But at least for the moment he's enjoying his run, headphones in blaring some sweet eighties rock ballad.

The tinny growl of a fat exhaust pipe announces Rekani coming in to park in his clean kitted-out BMW E60, the door opening to let the large Latino out. It chirps as he tucks a key fob in his pocket and he starts to wander the sale area. You never knew what wild clothes people had, and big boy clothes got expensive sometimes. He was tapping away on his phone and browsing the tables casually, other hand in his pocket.

Grant is having what he fundamentally classifies as 'a bad morning'. He went out to talk to his father about 'Family stuff' and 'being responsible' or whatever the hell followed. Not all meetings are burgers and bullshitting. He's in his usual layers, and army jacket besides. Layered for the cold and the damp. A navy blue sticking cap pulled over his head and jammed over his ears where the purple hair shoots out from underneath. What's he looking at? Part of a weathervane. A clay ashtray with a matchstick holder in the middle looking like a big brown mottled stone flower? Scoop! He knows several people that might need this. Really his focus is on the lamp that looks like it's made out of vines and sticks. Yeah. Totally safe.

Estate sale! That's just a fancy garage sale. And Aidan does not have a fancy garage, or any garage at all (huh, why doesn't anyone ever have a carport sale?) but he does like a sale of things other people don't want anymore at Aidan-income prices. There could be all kinds of interesting things there! Currently the most interesting thing is the fight, granted, which he's watching while absently still holding a long silky white robe-thing with fluffy feather trim around the collar, wrists, and hem. It doesn't quite go with his current outfit of a very 1980s oversized checkered-and-striped turtleneck sweater in rainbow colours, red jeans, black Docs, and big fluffy calf-length faux-fur coat, granted, but most of that might well have come from another sale something like this, perhaps.

August gets a smallish grin and hand-lift of greeting when Aidan catches sight of him, though cat-and-kid have his attention headed that way. Grant and Easton get noticed then too, the latter getting the same little greeting as August and the former getting more of a 'you look familiar' glance, and just the smallish grin.

August returns the smile and up-nods to Aidan in a greeting, waves to Easton--ah, shit, that kid is totally going to get hit by that car.

"Fuck," August mutters under his breath, and darts forward, yanking at the boy's clothes with Glimmer. He makes a yanking motion with his hand, largely out of instinct, but also because it's possible this kid might fly clear into his arms, and it would help if he was ready to catch him.

Easton gives Aidan a big head nod and smile but almost immediately his attention is pulled to the cars nearly colliding with the kid and the cat. He immediately jumps into action to try and get in there and help. He steps out into the street and is about to try and grab the kid when he feels him move. Which of course means he's an ass in the street about to get car smushed instead. And while some people might have the presense of mind to pull steering wheels, he goes for the more obvious.. push the car. Not straight back, just hit it from the side like it just hit a person, so it doesn't hit a person, namely him.

Ever seen what 1000 pounds of force can do to a steering wheel? That person driving better hope their hands are on 10 and 2 and not some retarded easy-ride configuration, cause Rekani spots that cat, and makes a motion with his wrist like he was spinning a sound dial. That steering wheel spins until it completely locks into position opposite the way the cat, and the dude, would be, either sending the car into something, or, spooking the driver into slamming on the brakes. Either way, that was the safest thing he could think to do. His eyes follow the direction of the screech though, taking steps toward it, maybe feeling something as his powers are used, just like those strange thin points... Something was that way...

Grant has not relinquished the sweet ashtray, but he's not leaving the cat to get lost, squished, stolen or soggy. Looking to Aidan he signs rather than speaks <<Hey. Cat. There.>> The cat gets his attention. The people? Meh. There's the car veering out of control? Not his problem. Something with his mood entirely's got him off on people. Stuff and cats though? Stuff and cats get a pass. he does try to whistle for it.

Oh hey that's... that's not good. Aidan starts out into the street as well, which is probably not the best plan he ever had, with a glance between kid and cat and cars. He does not, alas, understand sign language, but since the kid's closer and maybe could get grabbed and it looks and... kinda feels like people ahead of him might have that handled, he glances toward the cat again and gives it a little bit of a... boost. Good luck, Mr. Tiddles, run free! Make smarter choices than Aidan!

August catches the kid--well, grabs him from Ruiz, yay teamwork?--turns to see if Easton needs help with that car that's about to run him over. ...and finds himself sans kid and not where he was a few seconds ago.

He stands still, waiting to see if he feels concussed from getting hit by a car. Nope, no obvious signs of lying in the street with his head busted open, dying horribly. So, somehow, he's just...at the dump.

Or, not. "Son of a fucking bitch," he mutters under his breath.

The clarity that comes with a near death experience is always fun to experience. Easton sees the one car swerve away but has to jump out of the way and roll to get clear of the second car. He finds himself on the ground dusting himself off and taking in the unexpected surroundings. "Super." He looks at the little junkbots playing with wariness and slowly, gingerly gets to his feet.

Looking around he catches sight of August and nods in agreement with the other man's assessment. He pats the small of his back, just checking that his gun is still safely tucked in his waistband. Not that anything looks threatening, yet, but give it time Easton figures.

Head whipping around at the sudden non-sensical location change, Rekani looks utterly confused, brows dropping into a very-concerned V. He turns a full circle as he tries to get his bearings, not exactly all too familiar with the town yet, but knowing the area and buildings around him were not where he just was, at the absolute least. Also, his car was back at the estate sale. Damn, he hoped she'd be ok. He didn't like leaving her alone for long. Absently, his hand goes to the little fanny pack hidden beneath the hanging hem of his shirt, unzipping it and reaching inside, impossibly producing an entire bag of chips, Salt and Vinegar. Absolutely ridiculously loud, he would crinkle it open, and reach inside to grab a few. Stress-Eating. It's a real disorder.

Grant reaches out and pats Aidan on the shoulder. The renegade skater looks up and then around and squints at all the old dudes in the area trying to assess them but ultimately decides there's not an issue. With them. Head tilting he doesn't call out but points to August with both hands and makes some signs that makes him look a bit like a surfer. *<<You? Here?>>*Somehow empty handed he takes a jog into the jarbled mess to have a look around for....well cool shit he's going to walk off with.

Cats and kids saved! Hooray! And Aidan gets like a whole quarter of a second to be happy about it and give Grant a grin for the shoulder-pat once he's managed to dance through the traffic himself and established that both he and Easton are also not dead, and before he establishes that they are also not where they were a moment ago. "Well... shit," he murmurs, the grin fading again, and sighs as he glances around. Okay, it's the dump. ...sort of. The small uh Things get looked at with a cock of the head, and he gives them another subdued-for-him smile before the larger one makes that declaration. "Oh, hey," he greets the... guy? Okay, even for one of these, trash-golem-thingies are kind of weird, "I think we'd kinda rather not be snared, please. But what are you trying to recruit people for?"

August surveys the Mayor, eyes shifting the the babybots as they all home in on Rekani's chips like cats hearing the can opener. "Let them have them," he suggests. He's been here before, with hungry beings-not-of-the-real starving and demanding food.

The request to walk with the Mayor makes him pull up short, because 'war' is the absolute last thing August wants to be part of ever again. (And wow that sign sure doesn't look inviting in the least.) On the other hand they might not have a choice. He looks askance at Easton, waiting to see how he reacts to the request, willing to refuse if others are inclined to.

Easton looks at the talking trash pile with what can only be described as an udder lack of enthusiasm. He has to grit his teeth not to interrupt but manages to do so. "Oh, yea? A war. Great, those are always fun." He looks to August and seems at least willing to follow after Deputy Rubble and see what he has to say. He gives the older man a shrug before asking Aidan, "You ready for a great Trash War? Whatever that means.." For perhaps the first time he regrets not bringing a pack of cigarettes on a run.

Watching the babies swarming Rekani he smirks, "Careful buddy, they might decide your pants look tasty if you don't share."

"Madre de Dios!" Rekani immediately swears as he's swarmed by all the filthy critters, a terribly unmanly sound of shock and horror squeaking out of him as he lifts the bag above his head, "No!" he almost shrieks down at the little children, "My chips!" He begins trying to step and shove the little rabble away, then eventually realizes just throwing the bag in a random direction would likely get all the filthy mongrels to chase it. He was breathing hard already, more from the sudden panic and adrenaline, than any real exertion. He starts swatting at his jeans vainly, tugging his shirt into place as he looks angrily after the trash babies in that quintessential *'I showed them!' kind of expression. He'd try to at least stick with the humans, looking from August to Easton with exasperation as he'd move to follow. "Fine. Little trash goblins can have them."

Grant frowns and tries to flap a hand at August againjaw set at an angle. There's another gesture of fuck it Aidan gets a slapslapslap in the sleeve to pay attention. Guy he dunno is being shook down for snacks. Right mental note: No snacking unless he'sharing with the whole class. Sharp (okay, kinda bloodshot) brown eyes try to focus on the gist of what's happening from the humans because he's not getting message from the robot mayor guy.

Aidan doesn't look deeply enthused by this 'hey come be a soldier' thing either, though he'll go for the walk at least. "I mean... probably no?" he answers Easton, turning his head to Grant as his sleeve gets slapped, and giving him a questioning look. "'sup?" he inquires, and though the situation with Rekani looks worrying for a moment, the guy seems to have it handled. He gets a quick thumbs-up for solving the issue. "Why are you having a war and with who and how come you want us to fight it? I mean, no offense, but I didn't have getting into battles on my agenda today, I just wanted to see if there was anything cool at the yard sale. Also why don't you have enough people to fight it who, you know, live here?"

August catches Grant's handwaving out of the corner of his eye, blinks in a double-take. He glances at the robot mayor, and something seems to occur to him. He signs to Grant, 'He says welcome to East Dregs. Wants us to help in their war.' He follows this with a wince and a shrug of, 'I guess that might as well happen', and begins to walk with the Mayor and Easton. He nods at Grant to come with, so he can sign for him.

As they walk, August relays this explanation to Grant, though sometimes his signing falters. He's hearing more than gunfire. Oh yes he is. He swallows, takes a steadying breath. No problem. Sure. He's done this sort of thing before. Well, not the take out the Captain part. They were explicitly forbidden to get into conflicts. But getting food, protecting supplies, that was three years in hell. It even sounded like this.

(Big problem. He's done this sort of thing before.)

Easton takes the brief in stride and just nods curtly, "What kind of resistance are we expecting to face? And specifically of what kind? I'd prefer not to walk in their unaware." He doesn't seem overly concerned with who the 'good guys' and the 'bad guys' are in this conflict. Partially because he doesn't trust this guy to give an honest assessment, partially because it doesn't really matter. Things are screwy, they need to survive to get out, good enough.

Pulling out his gun, he turns to the others and asks, "Anyone else armed?" He doesn't expect any of them to answer affirmatively but it's worth a shot.

He notices August needing a moment, he quirks a questioning brow at him but doesn't outright ask if he's going to be okay.

"Nah, sorry, homes." Rekani answers, though he would be hand-in-his-pocket again as soon as they'd be leaving the gate, a single peice of jerky pulled out this time and munched on. "So like... We're just gonna go with this?" he asks, trying to follow the other's lead, though he really just had his mind and his fists... Or well, a rusty looking pipe he found on the ground. Might as well join the trash army. He takes a test swing to try the weight, then sets it on his shoulder. It was almost surreal, he'd never been in anything like this with anyone but his sister before and it kinda made him a little... giddy? Punch-drunk? He seemed a little to easy-going for it.

When Easton pulls a pistol out? Grant just sight and slowly put s both hands in the air. He signs but keeps his hands visible squinting at the guy <<I'm not carrying. Sad. I know>> His hands slap his chest and points to the other...things out... there. This is a gesture of not us, we cool, point that shit That way* With a sigh he shakes his head and makes a gesture, lowing his arm, mimicing 'drawing a gun' from teh back of his belt. It's his finger with the thumb up (Deadly yo!) and check the slide on it all the same. There's an upnod.

yup. Armed with a finger. Look out world.

Aidan's brows go up at the parts about people-stealing, even if... they kinda got stolen too, what with the snared-into-here, let-you-out-after thing. "Only the usual way," he answers Easton, so in other words, the way that isn't usual anywhere except around here. The sounds of battle out there don't make him particularly more enthusiastic about the whole situation, but... "Mostly the only way out is through," he says to Rekani, "I mean, we could try other stuff, like, usually I try talking to people first? But usually I end up having to fight them anyway. And these guys look... really hungry." He's glancing back at the trash babies and their chip battle royale over there. Being hungry sucks. Looking at Grant when the guy's signing again, he blinks. Hey, that suddenly makes sense! Huh.

August cuts a glance at Easton, nods in a confirmation that he's good to go. He's far from fine, but he's not going to stand here frozen. He pulls the Art around him in a shield, a familiar action that he does without thinking most of the time.

Grimacing, he says, "Haven't had a chance to pick up that Sig yet." He looks to Rekani. "I've tried refusing to. That never works. Stay alive. Help others. That's all anyone can ask you to do."

A sidelong glance at the Mayor, then, "I'd better get a cool piece of junk for this. Or a rock." He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a deer antler tip, traces the grooves with his fingers. "Make those shots count, Marshall," he murmurs, and starts the walk. He pretends like the back of his neck isn't aching with tension. He moves in close to Easton, ducking any time he hears--feels, even, his Art telling him all these things--a bullet coming in too close.

"Fuck" Easton hears the sound of of the shots and does his best to return fire. He only has a pistol and from the looks of it the armor is soaking up the majority of the blow. He growls out a "Stay low, keep moving" to the group as they make their way forward. He can hear bullets whizzing close by, but it barely even registers to him now. He does look back in time to see Aidan get hit though.

"Shit. Corps-.. uh-fuck-Roen." Calling for a medic used to be a little different, and he can't help that old call from springing out first.

He checks the rest of the group before nodding at Rehani and starting to combat sign that he sees at least three more hostiles, one down. Yes, he's missing one but it's combat it happens. Oh and they might have no idea what the fuck he's signing. Even Grant.

Happy-go-lucky was still the way Rekani goes. He didn't know what was going on, or really even how dangerous things were really going to be. When bullets come down, he reacts as quickly as possible... by disarming himself. Wrenching back with the pipe, he swings it forward and hucks it directly toward the nearest moving target that had attacked them. His mind takes over the trajectory, steering the tumbling piece of heavy metal. It whirls, end over end, then buries itself in the chest of an assailant. As crushing a victory as it was, he immediately throws his fists up in a 'YES!', and immediately throws himself low again as bullets whiz past him harmlessly. Swearing to himself at throwing his only weapon, he starts searching the ground around him for more ammunition.

Grant pulls his hat down. He stands up and tries to find a good shot. That doesn't go great. One shot comes scary close to playing for realsies against his right arm. There's something calming but problematic when he's operating on 4/5 senses. He tries to reach back to throw a bubble around... Aidan...Aidan there's no bubble. well... new plan! He motions for AIdan to lay low making a gesture of <Save you face!> You know the important things here! Working out where things are? well shit he's got a bone to pick withhte world. Or a bolt to pick. Fuck it. Running and finger gunning! Pew pew pew lasers pew!

Aidan takes a deep breath and starts heading out, setting his shoulders in a way he doesn't quite realise makes the least powerful of his arts wake up and settle more firmly about him. He looks a bit uneasy, and for what turns out to be good reason, as the earlier car-dodging appears to have used up a fair bit of his dodging ability. Or else, you know, bullets are just a hell of a lot smaller and faster than cars. One hits him in the leg, and he staggers, a sharp yelp emerging; it slows him down enough that the next gets him in the abdomen, which gets an even unhappier and swearier sound, despite the fact that he's already biting his lip fairly hard. He hurls a ball of fire back toward the source -- likely source, at least -- of one of those shots, but it'd seem what it hits isn't feeling flammable right now. Nothing is on fire and THIS HURTS.

One down, August thinks as they move. He sets his teeth, tries to not hear anyone screaming. A wince when Aidan takes a hit, but it's not serious, so he holds off diving in to heal him.

But when Rekani takes that hit, that is another thing entirely. He stares for several seconds, eyes fixed on Rekani. Then he blinks, shaking himself out of it and running over to haul him up. "Did you miss the part where I said to stay alive?" he asks, voice strained.

Easton doesn't exactly see Rekani take the hit but he feels the impact of him going down and he ducks low to gauge the damage. He sucks in breath but doesn't even have time to call out to August before he's on it. Easton checks on Aidan, "You alright? If you need to take cover, we got to come back through anyway." He'd be sorry to not have Aidan throwing fireballs in the raid, but he's already been shot twice, he's not about to ask him to risk more holes.

He looks over the group and says, "Alright apparently we have some bombs to be on the look out. I should be able to find them, and get rid of them. Anyone else know how to find shit?" He means magically. "If not, stay here and like the combat botanist said, stay alive."

He throws a grin at August before making his way forward, trying to use his ability to find things to find a trigger for the explosives.

Rekani really does his best to crawl toward the combat. This was just like summer camp, right? You crawl the little obstacle course, get a little dirty. Bullets weren't really a thing there, but he'd been shot near before. He was from Miami, afterall. He spots an opening and pushes himself up, hand going out to the side, then making a fist and swinging it across his body. A fridge atop a pile of rubble is pulled precariously sideways, dropped directly to crush another target to death.

He looks victorious up until a sudden shock throws him backwards. He was bleeding, and his chest hurt. He blinks, staring upward, eyes flicking to August as he comes into view. He'd try to remark something witty, but he just coughs instead, and it ain't a pretty cough either. Kinda red. His face twists in pain. He grabs onto the other man and at least tries to hold on, use his own strength to move to a safer position. It was a lot to ask, given his bulk, but those are the breaks.

Grant remembers these tactics from 'super heroing with Greg'. OKay that's a lie, everyone was hopped up on so much shit they couldn't spell their own name much less remember anything. This is how he remembers remembering it though. Hurdling another piece of debris and dive-rolling away from the sharp objects. (learned that one the hard way too). Finger and thumb come up supported by his other hand in a clear indicator of watching too many cop movies and not actually learning anything. Using the power of belief or whatever that arc of lightening shoots from his finger and fries that robo-gobo!

Ow. Ow ow. Ow. Aidan is not having a particularly good time. Still... he's had worse. Easton's seen him with worse. His jaw tightens, and he nods to the Marine, not quite ready to try making that claim out loud. Instead, he channels the pain into anger and hurls another ball of fire the same direction, with a deep growl. This time, it hits, and there's a big firey impact this time, in pretty harmony with the lightning. So that's something, and after a breath, he gives it a go. "'m okay," he kind of lies, though seeing Rekani's current state? Yeah. He's okay. Even if he is holding a hand against his side in case more stuff wants to come out, right now. Breathing hard and trying not to at the same time, which doesn't work too well. Catching a movement, he throws another fireball in that direction, looking satisfied when it hits.

"...everyone else okay?" Aside from him and Rekani. He moves in the general direction of him and August, ready to try to help if need be. And if need NOT be, he sets his focus on looking for this bomb they were warned about. 'cause that... sounds like a ba-- even worse day.

Despite how bad Rekani looks when August hauls him up, he's looking decided less bad a few seconds later. Everything still hurts, and he feels like he could use a week off, but he's no longer bleeding to death. August, on the other hand, is looking a lot worse. He's pale and sweating, like he might be debating between throwing up or passing out. But hey, Rekani's not dying, so there's that. And August, well, he's got Rekani's blood all over him.

With the last of the snipers down, August crouches close to Easton and peers at the situation. "There's a wire leading in," he says. "Probably meant to be used to blow it all, or anyone coming in." He looks askance at Easton to see what he wants to do.

"Aidan yer not fuckin' healing anybody with two extra holes in you." Easton growls at the younger man when he starts asking after other people but is a bit busy bleeding himself. He's definitely not the cheerful loudmouth usually found at or behind the bars in town right now. He's in combat-zone mode and there's a lot more, okay maybe only a little more, yelling at people involved and barking orders.

"If we blow the charges at the right time we should be able to take out any patrol." He isn't quite aware that these trashbeings might be people though, so that might sway his vote against it. He glances at August when talks and has the composure to not wince at the fact that he's covered in blood and looking pale. "We just need to not set off the wired one." He doesn't sound too convinced that it's that 'easy' but he's doing his best confident voice right now.

"I say we blow the patrol, I rush in, grab the captain and we book it back home." He looks around though, at least open to not telling everyone else what to do. Maybe.

Rekani pulls in a breath as it's suddenly much easier to breath, "Fuck!" he spits the word to the sky as his hand comes in to rub at his chest. He slowly rolls more onto his side, getting a hand under himself so he can push himself more upright. For now, it seemed to have quieted down, "Yo dawg, you saved my life. Which I didn't know people could do." He gasps at August, lifting a hand, for a high-five of all things, "I'm gonna buy you like so many drinks." He was sucking in air, breathing better, though he still labored, but from the pained look, he was clearly still in pain.

He slowly gets his bulk to a position to get his feet under him, pushing himself up so he can follow. What he sees, he passes on, and agrees with Easton, "I can smack one of the plates from here. Just gimme the go." he says, still rubbing his chest a bit.

Grant tries to keep people in periphery knowing his input is low. He looks back and looks back to them looking to Aidan and then August <<Why are we stopping?>> He points and then makes a gesture indicating walk over, punch something, maybe from right here? He also points to teh pile of stuff and makes a shoving motion and then a GTFO thumb over his shoulder.

Aidan gives Easton a look like he might just argue this point, despite the fact that he's limping and part of his jeans are turning an entirely different shade of red at present, not to mention the sweater. But August has it handled, and the younger spiritualist takes a deep breath that, judging by the wince, he immediately regrets, and studies the outpost ahead.

"...those guys are human," he says, "...or were, anyway. Look." He points to one of the patrols, with the not-trash limbs. "Maybe we could get them to just... defect or something? Like hey, we'll help you get out of here if you just kinda stand down?" There's some hope there, but... really, he does know those thoughts nearly never work. "And aren't we supposed to kill the Captain dude and bring back all the supplies?" Grant's gestures work out to meaning in his head again, which is... still weird and cool. He makes an attempt to reply, which actually comes out fairly understandable, if blood-stained: <<Outpost has bomb. We're thinking how to do it and the patrols. Maybe we explode patrols.>>

The timing that Aidan picked up on with the guards is just as important in the end as Easton's sussing of the rig system and August's snip of the wire. They're able to blow two of them to scattered bits when teamwork is eventually decided, the mash of trash and men flying into scrap and bone and blood and oil that lubes the unnatural parts that make them. They were caught between two charges blowing at once. The other is so close to the plate, it flies and loses the limbs that mark him as once man with gore, but there's enough trash parts of him operating to show him still alive, if disabled. He's free to mercy kill or ignore. He also has a toaster as a head that reverbs with groans.

Easton has the advantage of charging in when shrapnel is done flying and August has the main plate disabled with a strategic wire snap. He catches the giant, circular-saw-blade modded trash creature inside offguard and just narrowly avoids getting gutted by a blade. Instead, it blooms blood and cuts through his shirt with superficial grazing before the sheer size of the creature reacting so quickly knocks it off balance. Easton is free to capitalize on his aim or retreat. The supply barrels are visibly guarded behind in this giant, hollowed out fortress of trash receptacle.

Rekani has very little patience for any more shit. His chest hurts, he wanted to live, people say 'the only way is through'. Fine, he was going to push through... a giant rod-iron stake from a fence-post. He scoops it off the ground, then stands and overhands the thing like he was at a track meet. Grabbing hold of it with his mind, his finger pointing directly where he wanted it to go, he sends the pole whistling with shocking speed toward the creature, through the door and sailing it right past Easton's ear and slicing past the thing's chest.

That's pretty much all he had. And he shakily falls back onto his ass again, hand on his chest wound, wincing.

Dazed, August returns the high five, because this is his life now: saving people from trash snipers and getting high fives. "It's fine. No need for drinks. Just make it out of here alive." Less a 'be more careful' and more a 'don't die, I'm serious'.

He looks askance when he sees Grant sign, but Aidan's on it. He waits for the signal, then snaps the tripwire just ahead of the pressure plates going off. He actually hunkers down when the explosions start, refusing to look, refusing to sense what's going on. And then they're in the door and there's the captain. The captain of...trash? Whatever, he has a sawblade. August tries to distract him with an illusion, but as he's almost never tried to use his mind Art for that sort of thing, it sputters and doesn't seem to do much but make the air shimmer. Fortunately Easton's good at dodging.

And just like he told the robot Mayor, he proceeds to look for a simple thing to take with him. A shiny piece of something. Or a cool rock. He's not picky. Just something to look at while he's crying in the bathtub later.

Okay, we're doin' it. Aidan may not exactly like it, but he knows who his party is here, so when it's clear they're going with the boom plan, he glances to Grant and nods, confirming that last 'maybe'. And then he's focusing on one of the plates, denting it so it creates its own pressure, and-- and wincing hard when exactly the result they were aiming for occurs. Harder when there's the one clearly left alive and wishing he weren't, but there's not a lot to do about that mid-battle, not when the captain in there is trying to slice Easton up. He sends an almost automatic mental slash at the enemy, just barely holding back from letting the fire free instead; they have things to bring back from in there, and they're not meant to be ready-roasted.

Really needed to get this out of his system. Can't skate and everything in the world's been aggravatingly off so the adrenaline burn? This satisfies. When he's done he pulls his Leatherman from his pocket and flips open the screwdriver on teh end of it and starts stalking around for what he wants. The scrap artist is getting picky choosy but isn't overly finding anything much that inspires. Looking up he takes another look at the surroundings and gets to on the lootings.

No...no... not this... got one... also no...

August pauses a moment in helping get the supplies to snag himself something, and tap Aidan once on the arm. His torso injury fades; it's an easy enough thing to heal, and August only has to set his jaw against a brief wave of nausea.

Aidan pauses when August touches his arm, and takes a deeper breath as he feels the wound mending. "Thanks," he says, giving the older man a crooked smile, and he pauses in turn to see what he can do for Rekani. Aidan's still limping a bit, but it's definitely the lesser injury and not enough to stop him doing things -- it can wait. He can concentrate better now, and the breath doesn't hurt when he lightly touches the damage to the larger man's chest, and focuses on willing it to knit. That done, he moves to get supplies, but stops, staring out toward the not-dead trash-man. "...we can't leave that dude like that," he says, flexing the hand that was just doing the healing, "I'm gonna... see if maybe I can... I mean I'm pretty sure he was a person first." Whether this means 'and thus should be helped' or 'and therefore maybe can be healed' or what is not necessarily clear, but Aidan looks fairly determined as he starts that way, whatever the logic.

If there's one thing the matter Art is good for, it's moving shit. August is glad to use it for lifting boxes. He can even lift a decent amount, as it turns out.

He pauses, though, when he sees Aidan heading over to tend to the wounded-but-still alive trashperson. He feels it, then; the injuries, the pain, all of it. He coughs, sets down the supplies he was carrying. It takes him a second to recover, then he moves to join Aidan, looking over the being to see...how, exactly, he could be healed. It was complicated, and more than a little confusing, this combination of flesh and mechanical.

Aidan touches the trashguy tentatively, trying to get that grasp on what exactly the situation here is, and while sometimes healing's taken a lot out of him before, it's never done that. His hand draws back almost involuntarily as the disorienting feeling seems to reverberate through his brain, the ache sharp and swiftly rising. But August seems to be doing better, and--

Oh. Oh god. No no no no no. Aidan winces and pales at the writhing agony, the screams and the grinding of things not exactly healing and not exactly not, and he takes a step back, hand darting out to grab August's arm and try to drag the botanist along. His other hand flies forward and... it would probably be better, all in all, if it were more delicate, a matter of spiritual surgery, finding and cutting just the right connections to be quick and neat. Maybe, just maybe, he'd even manage to find them. But the decision itself takes too much, and it's the means he finds most natural and automatic that comes into play. "I'm sorry," he tells the being, desperately sincere, even as a fireball forms and flies from the thrusting hand.

August doesn't feel too good about his own chances with this whole healing a trash cyborg thing, but he gives it a shot, trying to apply the different methods to the different parts. That's flesh, that's metal. That's ceramic, that's bone. And so on. It's difficult, but in some ways, easier, because he can take a break from healing the human parts when his nausea threatens too much.

And it works. Unfortunately.

He stumbles back, hauled easily by Aidan, choking down bile and trying to understand what the hell he just did, what's happening, he was just trying to help it--

Aidan's fireball forms in his peripheral vision, and August can feel himself crying even as he holds out a trembling hand, sparks swirling together into a lavender-tinged teardrop of fire.. I'm sorry, he thinks, over and over. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It flies towards the writhing cyborg, and he closes his eyes, unable to look.

There's a remarkably good mental choir of I'm Sorry going on for two minds that aren't using a lick of their glimmer skills to intentionally share a thing, with an ongoing counterpoint of Oh God in at least Aidan's. The sound is not immediately nor entirely an improvement, and the smell-- the smell isn't even close to one. Burning paper's a scent he likes, and a forge is pleasant too, but plastic never is, and flesh is worse. Even worse when it's tied to memory, and the cause of it now doesn't help.

Aidan's hand is painfully tight on August's arm until it very suddenly lets go and he takes a good couple steps away, turning. If he hadn't forgotten about the leg, maybe it would've been dry heaves, but the jolt of unexpected extra pain added in has him doubled over with his arms around his abdomen, losing what remains of what he ate for lunch. He shudders afterward, hand dragging first across his eyes and then across his mouth, and doesn't try to straighten back up just yet. "I'm sorry," he says just above a whisper but out loud, to August or the ashes or the world at large or possibly all three.

August stares at the burning, dying shape, hearing other screams, smelling somewhere and somewhen else. It takes him a few seconds to haul himself back from that place, another litany echoing in his mind with a hint of violin. This isn't Sarajevo. The pain from Aidan's grip helps here, because its sudden absence makes August blink and turn to look at him.

He moves with Aidan, sets a reassuring hand in his back. "It's not your fault," he says, voice thick. "I did that." He won't say 'thanks for helping me burn it' because that's kind of a horrible thing to thank someone for, but the gratitude is there none-the-less. He coughs, clears his throat. "Let's... Let's help get these supplies back. Yeah?" Keep moving, an old memory reminds him. Keep focused. Next task. Don't stop until you're safe.

It helps, the touch. Aidan takes another slow, deep breath (and thank August for that not just making it worse now), slightly ragged on both the inhale and the exhale, and straightens the rest of the way up. "I tried to," he replies, "Pretty sure me doing worse at it doesn't mean it's your fault and not mine." A small pause, and though he wasn't exactly speaking loudly, it's still a touch quieter, "We didn't know it'd..." Another breath, and he nods. "Right. Supplies." Yes. Keep going; that's a good plan. "But, um. Thanks."