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The moment the fog started to block visibility, Anabel had her notebook put away. Thank her lucky stars that she hadn't brought Mendel, she thought; he was a big dog, but being so low to the ground he probably would already be out, and she'd never be okay with leaving him behind.

Her bag had her cardigan, which wasn't ideal, but it'd do in a pinch. She winced and leaned over the bar, dunked the cardigan in the water set aside to rinse empty glasses, and wrung it out as quick as she could. This she rolled up and tied over her face. Breathing was uncomfortable, with the dampness of the fabric over her mouth and nose, but it was better than passing out. All Anabel really needed was to be stomped on. It'd probably burst more somethings than anyone else in that situation.

She had her CPR certification, but she could barely see past her hands. Bag in tow, she inched her way around the bar, checking on anyone collapsed on their stools and communicating with those who acknowledged her as to what to do. Her careful side-stepping didn't stop her from hitting what felt like a wall. It was not a wall; it was a man who generally looked like maybe he wouldn't be able to touch his own biceps if he bulked up more.

He looked very drunk, weaving where he stood. Hadn't he been the one getting shots of vodka?... Anabel was not there to judge, she told herself. If she had a whole, functioning liver, she would've been drinking more than prissy princess wine too. "Hey," she said, and then she shouted, "Hey! Down here. Are you okay?"

They didn't really have time to chat. People were dropping, and Anabel's eyes were watering like a b***h. She grabbed one impossibly muscular arm and hauled on it. "Take your spare shirt and tie it over your nose and mouth," she said, because like hell could she reach his face to do it for him. "Unless you want to pass out and get stepped on!" Some people were into that, but now was not the time or the place.



*

Islay could reach the stage, and her first instinct once things up there stopped moving was to climb up. She could better see where her dad was from there, and from that place better navigate to where she wanted to go. People were collapsing everywhere, and Izzy--well, she was strong, but she still felt light-headed. Not good. "Mother <********>," she said, and then felt kind of guilty, because Dad would've been upset to hear her say that. "Look, we can climb up on the stage. That's higher up, right? So we can like, get clearer air and scope out a way out..."

But what about the little kid? "Okay," she said. "Um." Ugh, her whole body was being weird. She grabbed the edge of the stage and jumped, hauling herself up on top of it. The air was indeed clearer up there, but all the doors were shut and she still couldn't see her father--the fog was too thick.

"There isn't anything," she said, "the doors are shut, can you--you guys should get up here, it's easier to breathe--" she got down on her knees at the edge of the stage and held out a hand. "I'm pretty strong, come over here!"



*

Romaine gave Suri a puzzled look. How would she know? "I could ask," she said, as the fog billowed up around them. "I believe their machinery is malfunctioning. It may be toxic." She couldn't see anyone else, but her obsessive reading of every book in Suri's house was nothing if not thorough. Most machinery capable of organizing all this would cause damage to people who were too close when it malfunctioned. She could hear a low growl, and distant thumping, and people shouting at others to get up, get up!

Without asking permission, she picked up her mentor in a bridal carry. "I'm sorry, this is undignified," she said. "But I can get us to a safer place." People still cleared the way for Romaine, and she wound her way back to her former perch, one of the back seating sections. That was where she set Suri down. "It will be safer up here. We can assess the situation and then make our decisions." It would actually be Suri's decision, but... either way.

Nursing her... well, she wasn't sure what number she was on, really, but Marissa nursed her drink all the same. She was only a bit passed tipsy at this point and slow to recognize that anything was wrong. The purple fog was explained away as a special effect, and the floor shaking was simply a result of all the jumping and dancing going on.

The shrieking, though... that was something else.

“Do you hear that?” Marissa asked her companion for the evening. “This song sounds awful.”

Apparently the band wasn't as good as everyone said they were. As the fog rose, they even stopped playing and were ushered off of the stage. At this point Marissa's impaired brain began to catch up with the reality of the situation.

“Wait a minute, what's going on?” she said.

People were passing out at the bar.

She felt like passing out at the bar.

Ilian shook his head when Lovely asked ‘what now?’ wishing he had some kind of an idea of what was going on. There was this purple fog rising up from the floor, and while it could be just a horrible special effect, something was telling him that just wasn’t the case.

Whatever it was, if this was something the Negaverse had planned, it was totally not cool that they didn’t let any of the newer recruits in on whatever plan they had. Maybe it was meant as a loyalty test, but either way it was stupid.

And now he was stuck with Haven there, and Lovely to worry about. “Let’s try to make it to the stage,” he suggested, pointing out how the fog was slowly rising, but if they could get up on stage, maybe they could get away from it.

But the fog was rising much too quickly, and soon Ilian found himself growing dizzy and stumbled, and eventually collapsed. He cursed his luck and tried getting back up, but there was too much fog. It was like it was preventing him from being able to move properly.

Alex stared down at the fog and groaned, cursing internally. Of course she'd be proven wrong. Of course something would go wrong. Why, why was it always at large group events with lots of civilians. Why. The young woman was already on the move as the panic in the crowd start to rise. She wormed her way towards and exit with the intent of finding higher ground and transforming.

But apparently that wasn't an option, she grumbled looking at the blockade of people at the doors.

"Oh, for ******** sake..." snarled the young woman. Of course she couldn't get out. Of course there was fog and growling and all manor of chaos. She was short, she was annoyed, and she was going to plow her way though the masses if it meant she had to power up to do it. There were too many civilians and too much panic to try to guide them out. Besides, if she couldn't get to the door to begin with, the most she'd do is add to the panic.

The less people got trampled, the better.

--

Angel noticed too late that something supernatural was going on. Normally, she would have been on top of all of it, going to investigate and find the sorts, but the fog had just been 'normal' enough that she'd passed it off as stage effects. It wasn't until she tried to stand, only to find her legs immobile, did she realize something was very, very wrong.

The Londoner collapsed in the chair, trying to figure out what was going on.

"...Do you think there's any chance your mother could be here then?" Rene asked, tearing at the hem of his shirt, despite Chris's temporary hold on his vest. Fourteen was a little to young for a date with out some sort of chaperone wasn't it? He tore off a size-able portion of fabric, passing it off to Paris as he helped her climb onto her husband's shoulders. "...Just in case." He muttered.

"I'm not going anywhere." The teen murmured, pulling the collar of his shirt up over his nose. "I'm actually wishing a certain tank was here.." Sessrumnir had proven himself more then capable at handling himself during the New Years Fiasco. It figures, Rene would be nowhere near him at this point.

"I've only seen him powered up.. Or.. so my memories tell me." Rene said. That didn't stop him, however from scanning the crowd anyway. It couldn't be that hard to find him. "How are you feeling." He didn't want to admit that he was beginning to feel lightheaded and woozy.

Kaida startled a bit when Albert tied something around her nose and mouth, the woman blinked before she nodded. Oh. Well. Okay. Time to move. She was quick to lead the way, stepping around those who had passed out or those who were trying to swarm to the exits as best she could. She needed up...and the first chance she got to take advantage of that was taken, the young woman not even paying attention to what she was climbing [beyond it wasn't growling].



----------------------------------------------

"It kinda does! Huh!" She let herself flow into her dancing, a grin on her face. And then things just went downhill. Fast. The sounds of supposed technical difficulties turned into...no way. That couldn't be right. Just no way. Chiku stopped dancing, pulling her shirt up over her nose and mouth. What the hell? It had to be a senshi ploy. Had to be...

"We do. Come on. There's always hidden fire exits." Hopefully. Oh she hoped. "We find a wall, and navigate from there." She took the other girl's hand, carefully moving to lead her in the direction she remembered the walls being. Once the other was safe...she'd double back as Sphalerite. See if she couldn't punch the face of whoever was causing this atrocity.

'Everything is going to be okay' sounds like a surefire curse to make sure everything goes to s**t. I miss 'have trust'. Not like he's coming to my rescue anymore.

Nothing is. Becoming 'awakened' was supposed to fix that. What good is it if all I can manage is some magic I can barely control and the ability to run faster and jump farther. The Negaverse is supposed to be powerful.

Where's my share of it?

Slate fought with his body to walk, to hold onto the girl, to simply speak. He managed little more than a groan at first - falling into her hadn't been elegant or easy - and the more he breathed of the fog, the more he found himself struggling. He questioned whether powering up might alleviate the symptoms, but here hardly seemed the place. Even if he could, this girl would witness it without question. And what was it that Umber warned him? Not to back people into corners unless you want to subvert their lives? She was nice, he hardly knew her, and she probably had more than a few reasons to dodge joining a shitty war - especially with the Negaverse.

Part of him urged him to do it, to power up, just to see what happened when she had to get corrupted for it.

Instead he channeled that energy into attempting to walk, and he managed some progress in graceless muscle twitches that left him approximating movement at best. It might help with the burden of hauling him around, though, and she was nice enough to drag him to a safer place than to leave him out for stomping purposes. Why did he even have to consider corrupting her? The thought alone felt foreign, pervasive.

"Doors... Locked..." Came the only response he could manage. The clamor to escape left people clawing at the doors, forcing themselves against its surface, solely to break the chain. Instead, he imagined, they broke their bones.

Quinn watched as the fog rose and he stared in horror as people started to panic. Some of his classes in school covered fire codes and one teacher in particular showed what happened when a fire or other stampeding even occurred in a crowded location. When he started to cough slightly he did the smart thing and covered his face. "Delilah!" He searched the area around him looking for the dark haired girl, the fog making it hard to determine who was who.

He tore strips off the bottom of his shirt and passed them out to people standing close by, holding one back just in case. Quinn heard growling above the raising noise of a crowded building of panicking people. "DELILAH!" Where was she? She couldn't have gone far since she was right next to him just a short time ago. Quinn's swimmers frame shook as he fought off more coughs, his hand holding what was left of his shirt desperately across his nose and mouth. It felt as if his very limbs were being weighted down with chains and weights, like he was a real Jacob Marley. "DEL..." Coughing cut off his shouting, unable to stand upright he hunched over trying to stay conscious as he felt like his body was trying to forcefully remove his lungs.