Worlds Between

Canadian Intro

Donald MacIntyre and Charles Robertson were going about their every day lives.

[Post here. Please use a line break to separate posts from different locations :) You may play your family members and environment, and I will interject events and characters]

Charles had just finished the croissant and coffee that made up his routine breakfast, sitting near the window at the local coffee shop he frequented. Idly he jotted down a few more lines on the notepad he had nearby, then crossed them out, and tapped his pen against his lower lip. Normally the atmosphere in his favourite coffee shop helped him get ideas out, but today there were just to many people around. He wondered for a moment where they all came from, and why there were all intruding in his routine today.

Amidst the aroma of caffeine that saturated the small coffee shop, the bitter scent of smoke began to spread. Most people had not yet noticed, but a few people lifted their heads and frowned.

Charles' nose twitched, and he furrowed his brow, trying to work through the distraction. It wasn't exactly uncommon for one of the younger employees to burn a slice of toast or over roast a batch of beans, so he wasn't immediately concerned. But as the scent slowly began to overpower the other aromas, he slowly took his gaze from the many scribbles on his paper, looking about in an attempt to identify the source.

A girl darted out of the kitchen. She seemed to be attempting to appear inconspicuousness while striding purposefully towards the door. However, her attempts were ruined primarily by the charred apron she was wearing, her fiery red hair, and the fact that she kept glancing nervously back towards the kitchen as if she had seen a ghost.

Raising an eyebrow as the girl swept past, Charles stood and brought his plate and cup back to the counter, taking the opportunity to glance into the Kitchen through the still swinging door. After catching whatever glimpse he could, he turned and walked towards the door, following after the fiery haired employee, a few feet behind her outside. He still had his pen in his hand.

"Um, excuse me, Miss, is everything alright?"

What Charles glimpsed in the kitchen was mild chaos. Other kitchen employees were battling a flame that looked to be spreading fast. The scent of smoke thickened in the small shop, and as Charles and the girl excited the shop they could hear customer service employee urging patrons to leave the building.

Hearing Charles behind her, the girl whirled to face him. She had a rather small frame, and had to look up at him to respond. "Not really..." she said, wiping her hands on her apron and looking back at the coffee shop, an expression of chagrin on the pixie-like features of her face. "T-the fire came out of nowhere. I burnt my finger and I was really angry then fwooosh!" she made a swooping gesture with her hands.

Charles blinked, the girl's delicate elfin features and rather exuberant demeanour setting him off balance. He moved a little closer, trying his best to take on what he thought was a reassuring smile. "The kitchen is old, I'm sure it was just a leak in the gas valve or something like that, Nothing to worry about. How badly did you burn yourself?" He reached gently for her hand. "You should get cold water on it as soon as you can, that'll help minimize the burn's effect."

"Yeah..um, I don't think it's too bad... " was her non-committal response, her green eyes sliding past him to the people streaming out of the coffee shop, and the smoke beginning to float through the door. She pressed her lips together, a delicate frown creasing her brow.

Then her attention flitted back to the young man talking to her. "We should probably move further away from the building."

---

Donald piloted his Crown Vic along. This was starting out as standard morning. Trail run, weights, breakfast, into work at 7. He was on traffic/car patrol. Heading out from the station, he decided to take Mental Morning Route 4 today, since the weekday traffic on routes 1 and 2 wasn't usually worth watching, and he knew that Brice would be covering most of the streets he would normally drive on Route 3.

There was John, the UAP delivery driver, to judge from the ridiculous angle of his hat, pulling out in front of Don and driving like he wasn't paying for tires. One thing Donald never understood was why John always signalled his left turns, but never his right. As a case in point, Donald watched him carefully shoulder check and signal to get into the left lane to pass a slow car, then casually veer back into the right lane once he had finished passing.

Donald was considering pulling John over, if for no other reason than to ask why, when his radio crackled to life (actually it was pretty clear reception, he just liked to think of it crackling to life). A hesitant female voice came through, "All patrol units, all patrol units, we have a report of a... um... 91L... 647 at-"

Don engaged his radio, "So that's a 'leash law violation' with a 'lewd conduct' too eh? Can't fool me, Dispatch, I know I'm not in Montreal anymore"
He could hear Sarah blush over the radio. She was new, a summer student from police college. But she was trying as best she could, and really didn't need some of the other patrol officers giving her "Litre Colas".

"Sorry Don, I mean it's a... well that coffee shop over the, by the Esso is on fire. Are you nearby?"

"10-4, Dispatch, bet I'll be there first."

"Sorry, Dispatch, my 20 is on the other side of town, looks like Don wins," radioed Brice, "My condolences go out to those who love the dozens of potential victims," he added, mourning the possible loss of donuts and other pastries.

"AmaaaziiiIIIiing Graaace/Howw sweeeet, the sounnd," Alan radioed in with from somewhere near the Bridge. None of them even really liked donuts, but thought it would be criminal to let this kind of joke opportunity pass by.

Doing his best impression of a twangy American accent, a la COPS, Donald rattled off, "Please be advised, we have received a notification notice that we have a report of a possible conflagration at the intersections of Whocares and Thatotherstreet, at a caffeination establishment/slash/purveyor of baked goods, but a little to the east, mmkay? I have reported that this unit is in pursuit of on the scene and responding to the radio codes"
Turning toward the imaginary camera over his shoulder as he parked the car, he said, "For those of you playing along at home: donuts be on fire, "Imma" [air quotes] go look!" and then exited the vehicle.

Donald was in fact the first responder. He asked a few people nearby if there was anyone still inside. When they shrugged, he drew a deep breath, walked in bent over low, and tried to survey the coffee shop. He only got about 5 feet inside the door when the smoke became too thick to see much farther. He could see most of the customer area, but the kitchen door was spewing black smoke, which was probably none too healthy. He would only be another casualty if he went farther in, which would be far too embarassing to get dragged out by hose monkeys, so he left while the leaving was good.

By the time he got outside, a fire truck had pulled up. "Customer area looks clear; couldn't see into the kitchen. Save the Bostom Creams!" He yelled to the first fire fighter to approach the building, clapping him on the shoulder as he went by. Sean punched him hard in the shoulder, moving himself more than Donald, and continued inside.

As he walked toward the assembled crowd (after all, who doesn't like watching a burning building?), his eyes were drawn to a crispy apron. After some perfunctory gesturing that people should stay away from the building enough that it wouldn't fall on them, he went straight over to the slim girl with the burnt clothing and the man, a student he guessed, standing next to her.

"You okay ma'am?" He asked the girl.

Charles back away a bit, letting the officer take charge of the situation. He moved his gaze back towards the building, taking a step in reverse to get a better view. He panned his gaze across the gathered crowd, trying to make sure the staff and regulars he knew from the shop had safely exited.

"I think so...", the girl answered the officer shyly, "just a little bit of a burn is all." She lifted her hands palm up, to reveal the burns on a few of her fingers.

Donald bent low to examine her hands without touching them, "Well, if my first aid training, which I passed, by the way, is any indication, you're going to get to keep all of your fingers. Either that or you've been savaged by a (possibly dire) bear and have only moments to live. You haven't seen any bears lately have you?"

The redheaded girl, Radella, gave Donald a strange look for a moment. Then she cracked a reluctant smile and some of the tension eased out of her shoulders. "Nope, no bears. I'm sure I'll be fine. Just a little spooked."

Donald arched an eyebrow and continued in his best professional tone, "I would be too. Looks like everyone got out okay though. Are you sure about the bears? We've been getting a lot of reports about bear claws in coffee shops. We think maybe the bears have a claw in some kind of organized crime ring, using donuts to smuggle cocaine disguised as powdered sugar. It's ok to tell me. Even if the bears said they'd get anyone who talked, we can protect you.ed While we're waiting for the paramics to get around and the fire to get put out, could I get your name and contact information? And if you could briefly describe anything you saw as far as the fire goes? It's basically just a formality in case the fire marshal needs statements. The shop owners need this kind of thing for their insurance claims. After all, could have been a gas leak or a wiring fault or a power surge or all kinds of stuff. Oh and sir," he motioned with his notebook to the man who had been standing next to this girl, "if I could get a statement from you too in a minute please?"

Charles turned around, hearing the officer address him. "Yes, of course." He Glanced back again. Something about the situation was putting him on edge. He wasn't able to pinpoint what it was; perhaps it was simply not knowing how things had happened. He was usually a rather keen observer of his surroundings, and that such a thing had occurred so close by without him taking notice unnerved him.

Radella continued to watch the officer strangely, amused by how abruptly he transitioned from joking to being serious and not really sure what to say to that. "Um, well my name's Radella Abercromby. What kind of contact information do you need?"

"That's a pretty awesome name," Donald said. "And just whatever phone number is best to contact you at, and your 'residence/domicile address' works."

In an alleyway not far from the fire, two men appeared. One was slightly shorter and rounder than the other and he glared up at the taller man, his black eyes narrow. "Clumsy fool," he hissed. "We lost her!" Then his hooked nose twitched and he peered down the ally way. "I smell smoke..."

The men walked forward into the street, and a grin spread across both faces. "I think we're in the right place."

Their expressions sobering, the two men walked forward. Their outfits were business casual and neutral colours. The two men joined the crowd of patrons and employees that had fled the flames and began asking questions in concerned, sympathetic voices, trying to determine the source of the fire.

A slight blush warmed her pale cheeks at the officer's compliment as Radella gave the officer her address and phone number, then began explaining what happened. "I was working in the kitchen and I burnt my hand on one of our kettles. It was a busy morning and I guess I wasn't paying enough attention. Anyway, next thing I know the oven next to me starts smoking, and a few other things caught flame. I was so startled, and my hands till really hurt, so I alerted my manager and I just got out of there."

Despite the chaos of the scene, Charles had begun to inch closer to the coffee shop, making his way through the crowd. Had the Blaze been contained? He checked his pocket for his watch, to get the time... Then his other pocket... His eyes darted to the door of the Cafe. Without wasting a moment he threaded through the crowd and made for the door, towards the rapidly billowing smoke emanating from inside.

Donald smiled again, "I can understand that. Kettles are ornery beasts at the best of times. I had my fill of them when I was on kitchen duty out logging. Good job getting out of there, some people don't have the sense to get out of or away from burning buildings," he gestured towards the coffee shop, glancing that way and noticing more inbound movement than there should have been.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he said under his breath. Then to Radella, "Come help yell? He was talking to you..."

Then in his best projecting tone, while gathering steam running toward the burning building, Donald yelled, "Sir! Don't go inside!" motioning to the firefighters outside and in an only slightly lower voice, he added, "That's for professional idiots like us. If you left something inside, either it's fine or it's already burnt!"

Already too far ahead to be intercepted before he got inside, Charles dove through the door, Ducking under the smoke as best he could. If he had heard the officer's warning, he made no obvious indication of heeding it, fixated on getting his watch. As he entered, He looked to the table he was sitting at, trying to spot it. The kitchen was flaring with orange flames as he dropped down to check under his chair.

"Hey guys!" Donald yelled at the nearest firefighters, making sure to get their attention, "Someone just ran inside," he motioned at the door, "Yeah I know, you get to write me up for crowd control failure. Beer's on me. He's a big guy, you should be able to find him." Charging inside himself would have been all well and good for a few seconds, but there were people with breathing masks and fireproof clothing right there...

Don sighed and fidgeted with his body armour vest, "Now if everyone who's not supposed to be here wouldn't mind accompanying me a little farther away from the burning building, I'm going to try to string up some police tape and stop anyone who decides that the macchiato they left inside is really that important."

The thick smoke curled around Charles, immediately catching in his throat and sending him into raw, burning coughs and brought tears to his eyes. The smoke eezed somewhat as he dropped to his knees, but the heat from the kitchen was oppressive. Red figures came in after him, firefighters with masks. "You need to get out of here immediately." One of them said firmly to Charles, and gave him a mask to put over his face.

Radella's green eyes widened with fright, and the flames in the building lept higher as she panicked. Wringing her hands, she shifted her weight anxiously, hoping the firefighters managed to save the young man. Why would he jump into a burning building like that? she wondered

The two men who recently arrived on the scene watched Radella's agitation with interest, noting how the flames seemed to jump in response. They exchanged glances, and nodded.

Charles glanced at the figures in red, coughing as the smoke invaded his lungs. He looked back to the ground near his seat. There, glinting the light of the flames. He grabbed for the shinning silver oval, pocketing it before finally accepting the mask and awkwardly slipping it on. He stood as best he could, his breathing became more regular with the Mask, and he followed the Firefighters out of the shop.

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