Owner	Pose
Olivia Gaudin	It's Thursday night, the house is positively packed, and things are going swimmingly. There are good nights at the theatre and some are just great. There are times where everyone is on their a+ game all at the same time and while most can't really say what is different, there is a greater energy in the place that is undeniable.     Olivia is loving every second, and when the curtain comes down after Defying Gravity rocks the entire hall, the applause are explosive! Really, truly explosive! Oliva is just radiating with all that energy when it occurs to her that the applause aren't explosive. Explosions are explosive.     It's intermission, and there are explosions at the front of the theater. Followed the noise of applause turning into screams and fear. It's chaos in seconds and then the shouts can be heard out front.     "HAND HER OVER! WHERE IS SHE?!"     It's a man's voice, and he sounds furious.
Flatline	Well, it was packed other than middle of a five-seat run in the balcony there are two seats, a kid in a black hoodie, and then two more seats. They were sprawled out, and had drinks and snacks from the bar (paid for in cash, and tipped), and the person had been monching loudly while the show was going on. She definitely felt for the professor -- wasn't his fault he was a goat -- and hey! Who doesn't like wearing all black for allergy to color?     She could dig it.     The curtain comes down on the first act finale, and Flatline was getting up from her seat(s) to see if they would refill her soda pop when there were screams.     Which means there's opportunity.     As people run out, the pinkish-eyed teenager slips her way to the front of the balcony to take a look at who's doing all that shouting.
Olivia Gaudin	In moments, people are surging to exits. Ushers are helpless to still the herd. But it seems there is one voice that isn't going to be so easily silenced. The curtain jerks up suddenly and Olivia steps forward. And so it is that the Wicked Witch of the West, Elphaba herself, blasts out in a commanding voice, "Move slowly to the exits! Please! Follow the instructions of the ushers!"     Amplified as she is, her voice booms. But there's something else causing it, too, though Olivia doesn't really notice how loud she is. She does notice that the burst of sound she puts forth brings with it a wave of intense vertigo. Thank goodness she has a broom to lean on!     Her presence does bring a little more order to things. At least it breaks through some of the crowd. But it does nothing to help with the chaos at the front, nor the problems that are about to come. Flatline is able to see the shouting is coming from a tall, muscular man. His head is perfectly shaved and he bears a most impressive handlebar moustache.     He's not alone, either. The audience doesn't notice, of course, but as they open emergency exits, they leave ways for some to enter. They are dressed like normal people. There's nothing to give them away at a glance, and in the moment there's no way for the average person to see they are all armed.     Striding beneath the balcony and towards the stage, the apparent leader of the group and five of his fellows move unimpeded.     "Hey showgirl! Bring out that dirty mutie you are hiding in the back!"     While this is not the first time Olivia's had danger staring her down in the past few weeks, she's never had that many guns leveled at her at once.
Flatline	People pour towards the exits as armed men make their way in, the chaos lends itself to the direction of a new dance as Flatline takes in the scene. The man with the shaved dome and the mustache appears to be the leader.     There are six people below her who mean someone on stage -- or behind it -- harm. Probably even kill them. Flatline leans her chin on her palm a moment, chewing on the last bit of chocolate-covered pretzels as she considers her options.     Ordinarily she'd be interested in seeing what skills she could glean, but on the other end -- it's not like she's going to be able to pick up 'Guns and Ships'. Wrong hit show.     So she shoulder-rollds forward, off the balcony with a soft sigh as the place clears out, and she lands on the floor in the aisle behind the advancing mutant-haters.     Small. Unimpressive.     But she peels the hood of her sweatshirt back and shows bone-white hair. Ash colored skin, with lilac highlights. Pinkish-purplish eyes that stare out through the eyes of a skull like mask of make-up.     She certainly doesn't *look* completely human, but she gives a dramatic entrance s she looks at the six armed men.     And she flicks her right hand down, feeling one of her throwing knives slide into her palm. Her eyes dart up to Olivia first, as if gauging if she would get stuck in the crossfire (HI ELPHIE!), and without further ado (because thre's going to be quite a lot ado in a moment), she slings her knife first at Handlebars. To make it Handlebar.     She's aiming to show off her warning shot by slicing half his mustache right off just to ESPECIALLY get his attention on her and not the artists.     NOT THAT SHE IS BEING HEROIC. These guys just pissed her off by not letting her get a refill.
Olivia Gaudin	Olivia's eyes widen when she sees someone jump off the balcony. That's just... next level. She loves heroes. She's bonkers for them. And she's already wishing she had her sharpie for an autograph but it's all the way back in her dressing room! Such a horrible lack of preparation!     The leap does get attention, and guns are swept around to face this new threat. Not fast enough, though. Not before the leader (who shall be henceforth called William) loses half his stache! It's a crime, truly. It was a work of art. But on the other hand, not many get to be shaved so close from so far and still breathe.     "What are you idiots doing, get her!" And he barks to the side, as he notices more of his team has finally reached the stagefloor, "Get back there and make an example of that mutant! Kill the showgirl if she gets in the way!"     A lot happens at once. First of all, Oliva is like, 'Kill the showgirl?! Rude.' But then she remembers she's just a girl who pretends to be a witch. She is not, in fact, a witch. She also notices that they one of the guys just starts shooting! He'd be the member of the team that isn't much for the ideals, he's just happy to finally get to kill someone.     While Olivia dives for cover, William is racing at Flatline, apparently deciding for some reason that engaging in fisticuffs while his guys are trying to shoot at her is a viable plan. They can't even get a clear shot off!
Flatline	They might not be able to because Flatline does have an awful lot of sharp things hidden in her sweatshirt.     William starts rushing her. She seems relatively unconcernered about him -- I mean, the guy has HALF a mustache. How threatening could he be?     Instead she goes to engage the gunmen going after the showgirl.     First one she comes across she comes in low and fast. Knife to the inside of his thigh, pulled up. Severing nerves, veins, arteries. He's going to bleed out very painfully in a minute or two. Gonna leave quite the mess. And to make sure he doesn't give too much complaint about it, a second knife is in her left hand, and thre are two very neat, nearly parallel lines of knives being driven into his lungs. Air goes out the back instead of through his larynx.     "Hush little baby." Flatline whispers, and turns, using her momentumn to try and get another gunman through his gunhand and make him loose his gun to the floor. She'll grab that momentarily.     She decides to ignore William and trouble him by moving along the seats, which require finesse and balance.     "This would be an excellent time to reatreat, yes, Elphaba?" she calls out in lightly accented English.
Olivia Gaudin	Still amplified, the answer is an almost comically fearful, "O-okay!" It's an odd life she leads, but with the bullets no longer flying in her direction, she does seek cover away from the stage. She finds herself alone back there. It seems everyone abandoned her in their rush to get out.     There's no time to let that bother her, though. She needs to help her people get to safety now. She has a job to do. For the first time, she tries to push against the pain and open up her senses. To hear.     While that struggle is going on off screen, all hell is breaking lose around Flatline. William is completely frustrated by her movements. She's too damn fast, and he wasn't expecting to run into someone with this particular set of skills. He adapts, "Get back there!"     He's urging at least some of his men near the front to get to the stage and go after what they've come for. Unable to get his hands on Flatline, he pulls out a handgun. He doesn't believe in careful aiming. He is the kind to open fire as soon as he can.     There's a kind of frantic energy in the attackers. They want to shoot just to feel like they are doing something. Even more so when they see one of their own taken down in horrific fashion.     The second man, who only gets stabbed in the hand, screams in pain and jumps away, trying to put distance between himself and whatever form of pale death has apparently descended in their midst.
Flatline	FLatline flips William off, and then sticks her tongue out childishly at him as she mid-air flips over the end seat, and slides down, drawing up the abandoned gun from the guy whose hand is now bleeding. "Go past the curtain, and I will make your death ESPECIALLY difficult-- Alex, Kyle, Marc-with-a-C and /William/! she grins now, showing all those pearly white teeth and making her face that much more skull-like.     She turns, and levels the hand gun she's gotten from Alex, and fires twice into his back.     "... Kyle, Marc and William then!" she states with glee, and then she turns to William and looks mildly peturbed.     "American trigger discipline." she chides, and then she comes in, low and fast again, rolling to the side and then sending another throwing knife towards William.     To give him a very distinct and well-known abbreviated pushbroom mustache meant to fit under WWI gasmasks. Aint' no Charlie Chaplain.
Olivia Gaudin	Marc with a c is either frantic or he actually believes he's the protagonist in an action movie. An incredible racist one. But for now, it seems that he is going to make it backstage. Things aren't going to end well, probably, but a man can dream. Dream horrible things.     This leaves Alex... oh. Sorry. Moving right along...     William! Who is rocking yet another look. He came to the theatre for a bit of mutant murder and instead got a shave! He keeps shooting. Well, and flail to quickly replace the clip. He's already emptied the first.     You know, premature, performance issues, etc.     This leaves Kyle. Who doesn't shout out anything about Flatline killing Kenny. Sadly he was sick and could not make it tonight. Kyle braces himself and fires, and he has more than a pistol. He's gotten his hands on semi-automatic and found a youtube video or something to make it fully automatic.     This leaves the matter of the knife that is up in the air. William does not dodge it; he does not roll with it; he just gets lucky and while desperately trying to dig a clip out of his back pocket stumbles so that it only grazes him. A fan of bright red stains his shirt, though.
Flatline	Shave and a haircut would have been two bits.     Click, Click. William is trying to reload and stumbles.     And now Kyle is without a Stan and definitely has no Cartman, but does have an automatic weapon!     Well that's problematic, folks. She was planning on killing William last. Well, that's taking back seat now as she leads the gunshots in a path straight for the half-mustachioed man, and she takes out a longer knife -- this one a proper boot knife. T"Sorry, Willy, was gonna leave you for last, but plans change." she whispers as she slides behind him, and brings the knife down towards his back to use him as a body shield while Kyle shoots.     Definitely the benefit of being a smol girl is that she probably fits nicely behind his friend.     "'An Easy Job' is never easy. Killing shouldn't be left to *amatures*."
Olivia Gaudin	Olivia is still in the scene, honest! She's just trying to find someone in the back. Now there's active shooter drills. She read about them. But she wasn't terrified at that point and she was trying to make sure she had her role down. But here we are and she hasn't rehearsed.     Marc with a c is having better luck. He's managed to find his way to the mural, and someone has told him how to find his way. If not, he'd have no idea where the hell to find anything. He knows who is he after, and he has a guess where she'll be hiding. He's making good time.     Speaking of good times, William is not enjoying his night at the theatre! Just as he slams the clip into his gun, a knife is slammed into him. It's an incredible burst of pain follows and he screams in rage.     Luckily, he has friends to rely on in these tight spots. Like Kyle, who... oh hell. "You shot m-!"     William's last words weren't very cool, admittedly, but Kyle doesn't stop shooting. I guess that's a credit to his focus. The theory must be shoot a human shield enough and you'll get your target. It's not like Willy there is going to boss him around again!     But this is buying time. Time for Marc to find his way to the dressing rooms. He's not sure which is which, but he is quickly trying the doors. They are locked. Except one. One was left unlocked by the person hiding inside. Left unlocked so that Olivia would be able to get back inside and lock it to protect herself. And that one, sadly, is where Olivia's new understudy is hiding. She's been hiding quite a while, really, and in more ways than one.
Flatline	Flatline knows the rough layout from Alex's memories. She knows the plan from Williams (and William... ew. We're not yum-shaming, but we are asking 'why'). She grits her teeth as she thinks about her timing, using Will-i-was to get closer to Kyle.     And giving a breath out she forward-rolls and usues her momentumb to sling William's corpse at Kyle, following it up with her last throwing knife.     "Bastard. Die already and let me move *on*." she snarls, taking her knife still covered with William's viscera and going for Kyle's throat!     "You all pissed me off."
Olivia Gaudin	The fight up front is almost finished. Almost, that is, until, well, it is. Will who ain't flops uselessly on Kyle. He is no match for Alex. Alex is occasionally letting out a moan of pain as he bleeds out! Will is just silent, still, useless.     Kyle flounders, raising his hands from his gun far too late, which allows the dead body to pin his arms for a moment. A moment he does not have.     There's so much one could say about Kyle's final moments. Fleeting is probably the best description. Messy is also a valid description. There's nothing he does that adds to the drama, other than one final gurgle.     This leaves just Marc, who has reached his goal. But he's not alone back there. Olivia has forgotten the whole procedure, but what she has gained recently is the ability to hear. Truly and absolutely hear. She can hear his steps. The particularly soundprint that his weight and his shoes make on the floor as he moves through the backstage halls. She moves faster. She hears a heartbeat soon. Not Marcs. It is a frightened pulse. A whimper of fear. A prayer for grace, for mercy, to a god who has not sent an angel to stop the attackers, but a vengeful spirit. Yet one remains.     Olivia bursts into her dressing room to find Marc standing over her understudy. The woman is on her knees, begging. Her name is Allison. Olivia has only known her for a few days, but she liked her right away. She didn't know exactly what it was until this moment.     Looking down at Allison, she sees a likeness. Her little niece might look like this woman in 18 years. There's nothing that stands out to mark her as a mutant. No energetic aura to protect her, no strange skin color, no claws, or big ears, or strange eyes. Nothing.     "Back off, showgirl. I'd hate you to get dirty blood all over your dress," hisses Marc. "We're about to have a whole bunch of mutie blood on our hands!" His laughter is ragged, the sign of a man not all there.     In that moment, there's a choice to be made. But it's no choice at all. Not when she sees in this poor girl the eyes of her own little niece.     "You have the wrong woman, you imbecile," Olivia hisses. "You can't even tell a mutant when one is right before you!"
Flatline	Flatline would argue there is no God, or if there is one he should apologize for the creation of something like her.     She gives a sniff. She breathes out. She goes to turn and exit the side of the theater, walking over to Alex and she brings her foot down just so on the back of his neck. Small mercy, killing him before she leaves.     And she looks at the exit. She could go. It's not her fight.     She gives a soft mutter in Russian in the theater, and then she turns. She lifts herself onto the stage easily, rolling, and then is already running. She recalls the layout of the theater as if it was her own eyes that had studied the plan.     To the Mural. To the left. Down the stairs, sneakers skidding on the tile, leaving bloody footprints in her wake.     And she still has Alex's gun.     Olivia gives her the time she needs to make her way to the dressing room that still has the door open from Olivia's burst in.
Olivia Gaudin	"Bullshit," is Marc's reply. "Stop wasting my time."     He's so close to pulling the trigger. There's just no choice but to prove it. Prove that she's the mutant. Is she a mutant? The thought never occured to her before. It doesn't matter.     She casts her witch's hat aside. "Look at me! Look closely!"     She can't attack the man. She'd be shot in seconds and it's not time for that. Not yet. It's time to reach up, part her hair, and reveal something that she only got recently. A blowhole. It's a bloody blowhole.     Marc steps back, trying to put both Allison and Olivia in his view. His gun is shaky as he shifts his aim.     "No.. not... you. It was here. The new one. They said the new one."     Allison looks terrified, her eyes turning from Marc and his gun to Olivia. What is she thinking? What is she doing? Why?     Olivia's only answer is ridiculous on its face. Allison looks like her niece. The child which is the most important person in the star's life. The life she loves vastly more than her own. So much, it seems, she'll die even for a likeness.     "They said. They said. Look at her! She's not a mutant. I am. I'm right in front of you. You want to spill mutant blood, then spill it!"     She truly has no plan beyond that. Yet it's not her heart that is pounding as he raises his gun and takes aim.
Flatline	Well. Olivia won't have to die for her niece's likeness today.     There's the feeling of an arm resting on her shoulder as Flatline takes aim. Her pinkish-purplish eyes show glee at getting the kill. She breathes in, and her breath is warm, chocolate-and-cola scented against the side of Olivia's face nd neck as he focuses on Marc.     "Bang." she states, and then pulls the trigger with her aim fully in the middle of Marc-with-a-C-and-distracted-by-the-blowhole's face.     Should it hit? Splatter. And Olivia's between her and Marc. Allison is probably going to need a shower.     Flatline?     IF he dies -- and she'll know if he does -- she's just going to turn, whistle, and walk out.
Olivia Gaudin	There's a moment where Olivia knows she is going to die. There's no flash or anything fancy. Just a numb acceptance of the fact. The hope that Allison will be spared. No prayer for a savior or some miracle.     But miracle there is. A very practical miracle. Olivia's dressing room is going to need a thorough cleaning after this, though.     Marc's face is kind of turned inside out in the middle, and at this range the back of his skull bursts outward, leaving the bullet to get lodged in a metal plate commemorating some or other competition that the performer won years ago.     He is dead. And Olivia is just standing there, stunned. Frozen. Collapsing. It's the sound burst. The gun was so near when fired and she has incredible issues with sudden, unexpected sounds. Like a gun right by her head. She's out like a light, but not before she feels the entire world spin in a burst of vertigo so violent she nearly gets sick on the way to the floor.     This leaves Allison, who is using Marc's graymatter as makeup. She crawls over to help Olivia, and looks up at their rescuer. She's confused, and her voice is shaky, "W-w-who? Who are you?" She's so shocked she only remembers a moment later to call out, half-weeping in relief, "Thank you! Thank you! You saved us!"
Flatline	Flatline empties the gun of its magazine, and throws the magazine as hard as she can out the hallway, and just drops the now empty gun.     She, in her skull makeup and coffin motif leans down to Allison, stepping over the out-like-a-light Olivia.     "If you say I saved you again, I will murder you horribly in your sleep." she states, and then flashes a V-for-Victory and gives the mutant a wink.     And she leaves the room, whistling cheerfully as sirens ring from outside. They're talking about how to penetrate the building, she knows.     But she simply stops by the merch booth, picks up a WICKED Hoodie (in black, of course), and a bottle of soda-pop, and slips out a side entrance.     Dealing with the police would just be such a problem.
Olivia Gaudin	That is one hell of a way to make a departure. The curtain on that whole scenes falls. A confused Allison is left to take care of Olivia. The first thing she does is make sure that blowhole is hidden. She said she was a mutant, and that's obviously not something one wants to have go public. It'll take some doing, but she will help Olivia back on her feet.     The cover-up of Olivia's status is effective enough. The only witnesses are either not going to tell (Flatline doesn't seem the kind to spill the beans to authorities) or are very dead. Allison is probably going to get exposed, but there's no way in hell Olivia is going to let anyone fire her.     Oh, and for the record, as soon as the police are cleared out, things are getting cleaned-up. Crime scene is roped up quite a bit, but the show must go on. There's a matinee tomorrow.