The Auction Part I

[hazlogs]

Jonathan Holtz strolls in, the air of 'government official' clinging about him
with the arrival. He looks about, grimaces at some thing or another, and
chooses to stand at the back, grim and half-bored as he watches the
proceedings silently.


Pete Barlow leans over to his young companion where they stand in the shadows
at the back of the hall, whispering something low and gruff to her.


Oaken looks Jonathan up and down and gives a soft grunt of approval before
walking towards the front and taking his seat.


Gareth pays little attention to the others in the room, with the auction
unstarted. He gazes at, and murmurs to, both the handsome young man and the
pretty woman who've accompanied him tonight.


Finally, a thin young man in a ill-fitting suit steps onto the stage. He wipes
his hands nervously against his pants legs and then taps on the microphone.
"Um," he stammers out. "Good evening, and welcome."


Gideon McIntyre turns around in his seat next to Tasha, and looks around the
room curiously.


Miss Dawson has arrived.


Tasha stirs in her front row chair.


Adele straightens from her quiet conversation with Tomais, glancing around
once more to look at the other people in the front row or two, then at the
audience ehind.


Miss Dawson slips in, unobtrusively, and sits down a half-dozen chairs away
from Oaken, near the edge of the room.


Eochaid casually crosses his legs, letting his hands fold into his lap,
fingers threaded. He watches the audience distantly from the back.


Dewey Pedersen pulls from a tanned-leather briefcase a legal pad, taking from
the breastpocket of his jacket a dark grey pen. He scribbles something on the
pad, looking up at the thin man at the microphone.


The man clears his throat and says "I, um, have one announcement to make
before beginning. Parcel 17 [the caern parcel] is being divided into three
portions as marked on the screen behind me." He steps back to reveal a white
screen with black lines down on it. Looking closely, you can tell that the
caern lies in the middle parcel (now called 17b) and sits very close to 17c.


Jonathan Holtz reaches into an inner jacket pocket, pulling out, of all
things, a pair of dark sunglasses. He fingers them a moment or two before
slipping them on.


Miss Dawson shifts uncomfortably.


Glissa sighs and glances between Eochaid and Mike, taking notes. She murmurs
something to her neighbors.


Adele studies the map with intense concentration.


Dewey Pedersen leans over to his thin companion, taking from the man what
appears to be a surveyor's rendering of the parcels. He sets them atop his
pad, looking at the map casually, making marks here and there.


In the back, Pete Barlow leans over again to his companion, his words blending
into the lowering hush of the room. "... road on the show ..."


Ian is an unassuming non-presence at the rear of the room. He leans almost
casually in the corner of the auction hall, arms folded across his chest with
the detached manner of an observer.


Becca gives a drawn-out sigh, one that's clearly audible to those anywhere
near where she's sitting, and fingers at the collar on her sweater.


Glissa absently starts doodling on the margin of her notebook.


Adele folds her hands calmly into her lap, an air of disinterest evident in
her pose despite her presence in the front row.


Big Mike murmurs to Glissa, while pointing at his map.


Becca whispers something back toward Pete, the tail end of the whispered words
falling into a silence in the proceedings. "...up the bridge."


The first few parcels of land sell fairly quickly, snapped up by weathly
socialites and a a few businesses. The proceedings are brisk, and most bids
seem to be in the 5-15 million dollar range. One rather large plot goes for
30 million, and another one in prime logging land is hotly constested for a
while before being purchased by the paper company.


Pete Barlow brings a finger to his lips, his "shhh" to his companion lost in
the hum of the crowd. He turns, paying attention to the bidding now.


Tasha remains silent throughout, as do her companions.


Mr. Reinhold has arrived.

Sean Conneff has arrived.

Susan has arrived.


Dewey Pedersen glances over toward Reinhold and his erstwhile companion. His
eyes narrow slightly as he turns away, back to the auction at hand.


Miss Dawson sits rather unhappily through the proceedings, her lips twisted
down into a slight frown.


Several reporters in back, including some from the Tribune, crane their necks
for better views as the bidding continues for the lesser, uninteresting plots.


Another, smaller, piece of decent timberland comes up for sale. This time,
Dewey Pedersen takes the land for a mere 3 million.

Jonathan Holtz's head turns slightly as he surveys the hall a time or two,
lingering as he catches sight of Ian. Then it's front and center again,
watching, listening.


Oaken shifts in his seat and chews on a thumbnail, looking about the room.


Sean Conneff steps through the doors in the rear or the room, followed closely
by Mr. Reinhold. The big logger looks around the room before walking towards
the chairs at the front of the room. His footfalls echo like hammerblows,
counterpoint to the sharp click of Reinhold's Italian loafers.


At Mr. Pedersen's side, the small thin makes a few jottings in what looks
like, to those nearby, an old ledgerbook.


Glissa bids for a few of the preliminary chunks offered up, but quickly has to
concede to stronger offers.


Tasha turns to regard Mr. Pedersen, as do her companions. The three heads
turning as one, and the slightly blank expressions, have an eerie air. But
perhaps the strangeness is lost in the sea of faces.


Mr. Reinhold steps around Sean and takes his seat. The big logger waits, then
sits next to his employer. Reinhold begins leafing through his Dayrunner.


Adele observes both Reinhold's entrance and Tasha's unity-of-motion with a
quickly-masked smile.


Carl nibbles on his finger nails a bit.


Pete Barlow, shifting uncomfortably, leans in again to his companion. "...
hell's ... break loo..."


Mr. Reinhold puts forth competative bids for two adjoining parcels of
timberland.


Miss Dawson only sits and watches, like some of the reporters in the back
room, an observer and not a participant.


After Reinhold takes one of the timberland parcels, the next few (lots 11-15)
go cheaply. These are the smaller lots, and the oddly scattered ones. No bid
rises about 500,000 and two sell for nearly a fifth of that. The man runnign
the auction looks a bit puzzled, but continues with parcel number 16.


Tasha continues her studied silence.


Carl taps his fingers as he awaits the all important bids.


Sean Conneff does little during the auction. The big Irishman fidgits with his
hands and shifts in his seat, which groans in metallic protest. When Reinhold
speaks to him, "Mr. Conneff, hold these papers for a moment, please." he
blandly obeys.


Glissa again makes another bid, but this time doesn't fold as quickly.


Ian's eyes scan the room regularly, though a hint of boredom has, by now,
slipped into his expression.


Mr. Reinhold lifts a hand, adding one million to the bid for the current
parcel.


The bidding on parcel 16 goes from 5. million to five and a half. With
Reinhold's bid, it jumps it up to 6 and a half. Numbers flash as Garrison
Enterprises stakes another million, raising the price to 7.5 million.


The thin man on the stage seems to be waiting for another bid, reluctant to
let this go.


Glissa sighs and gives Mike and Oaken a wistful grimace.


Eamon has arrived.


Dewey Pedersen glances over at Reinhold, watching him make his bid. He looks
over to the Garrison contingent and then taps a figure into his keypad. 7.75
million


Eamon slips into the room quietly, trying not to draw attention to himself.


Ian's eyes stray to Eamon as the newcomer enters; recognition flickers in the
special agent's expression, though his attention returns, smoothly, to the
auction and the participants.


Eamon takes a seat with Oaken and Eochaid.


Reinhold quickly tops Dewey's bid, leveling out the parcel to an even eight
million.


Tasha looks at Dewey again. Claire leans in to speak with her for a moment.
Leibowitz shakes her head once, then turns back to the auctioneer.


Garrison Developers lifts the price another million, to $9 million.


Carl shakes his head at the amount of money being thrown around.


Jonathan Holtz fingers at his neck tie, loosening it.


Dewey Pedersen leans over to converse quietly with the reed-thin man at his
side. He keys in his next bid, then stops, looking at Garrison Developers.
Again he turns to the man at his side, though his eyes wander off toward
Reinhold. He turns back and taps in a bid. 9.25


Mr. Reinhold shifts in his seat, as if uncomfortable with the way the price of
this parcel is headed. He taps his keypad irritably.


A bid from Glissa comes in at 9.7, but Mr. Reinhold follows it with 9.75. It
stands there for a moment.


Two more bids pop in quickly. 10 million from Dewey Pedersen and then 10.75
from Garriosn Enterprises.


Glissa confers tensely with Oaken and her escort.


Katrina raises a hand, offering 11 million even for the land.


Mr. Reinhold slowly shakes his head and rests his hands in his lap.


Dewey Pedersen leans forward to tap at his keypad, the reed-thin man at his
side, leaning forward to whisper with much animation into Mr. Pedersen's ear.


Garrison Developers also falls silent, after a quick consultation between the
three board members attending.


With a bid of 11.25 million, Dewey Pedersen takes parcel 16.


The next slide flashes onto the screen--17A. "Beginning bids of 7. million
will be taken, please," says the young man.


Eamon looks over at Dewey Pedersen, then whispers to Oaken.


Dewey Pedersen frowns as he turns to shake his head at his companion, writing
something on the legal pad which he jerks over for the reed-thin man to read.


Carl bites his lip.


Mr. Reinhold's hands rattle over his keypad as he taps in a bid. The big
logger at his side straightens a little and looks around the room.


Katrina leans forward, tapping in something at the keypad. Others around the
room also tap in their inital offerings. Being one of the larger sections of
land offered, the bidding rises quickly to 12 million.


Dewey Pedersen pulls his legal pad back, jotting a few notes down before
leaning up to the keypad.


Oaken exchanges quick whispers with Eamon, then taps at the keypad quickly.


A bid from Dewey Pedersen flashes across the screen--15 million. Katrina
matches it quickly and raises the price by another two million for a total of
17 currently being bid.


Jonathan Holtz pushes fingers into a jacket pocket, and pulls out a pack of
Marlboros. After tapping out a cigarette he doesn't actually light it, but
does fiddle around with it in hand. The general look of duty-inflicted
boredom sets in.


Adele bends her head to confer with Tomais, but makes no bid.


Bids flicker across the screen, mounting until Reinhold makes an offer of an
even thirty million.


Becca lets out a breath of air as the figures rise, way too many zeros, and
gives a muttered "Fucking shit."


Another bid from Katrina takes it to 33 million, and that is topped by a bid
of $35mil from Garrison Enterprises.


Eamon swallows nervously.


Sean Conneff continues his inspection of the room's occupants. Despite having
to crane his neck, he seems to find it more interesting than the numbers.


Dewey Pedersen leans back in his chair, taking a deep breath as he shake his
head. He leans toward his companion, a few words audible to those in the
first few rows. "... litigation for months.... injunction from Judge..." The
reed-thin man at Pedersen's side nods.


Miss Dawson slips a leather folder out of her attache. With a gold pen she
scribbles notes inside, watching the bidders with a practiced eye. A reporter
writing down the facts of a corporate-world story.


The bidding dies down for a moment and then two bids of $40M flash across the
screen so close together that it takes a few seconds to realize that Oaken's
bid registered first.


Mr. Reinhold watches the numbers rise, impassive. His hand occasionally strays
to the keypad at his side. The Blue Sky executive doesn't even consult his
notepad as he adds to his bid.


Tasha turns around, unerringly catching sight of Oaken. She looks amused,
winks at the young man, then turns back to the front.


Gareth shifts in his seat, bending his head absently to kiss his female
companion's cheek before returning his attention, rather languidly, to the
bidders in front of him.


Reinhold tops the bid from Precision Products, making an offer for 42.5
million. For a moment, Katrina Durant leans forward as if considering an
offer. Then she cocks her head, shakes it once and sits back.


Eamon snorts and almost laughs, but turns it into a short coughing fit.


Dewey Pedersen leans forward again, turning over a sheet of the canary yellow
paper. He scribbles on it, watching the bidding move back and forth. Pedersen
then rips off half the sheet, folding it down to a quarter its size. He hands
it to the reed-thin man who stands, taking the note into the crowd. Those who
watch see that he hands it to Eamon, not waiting before returning to
Pedersen's side.


Oaken frowns and turns back to his keypad, fingers almost moving of their own
volition as he watches the screen.


Eochaid scowls deeply, watching Eamon.


Eamon blinks as he suddenly finds a piece of paper in his hands. He puts it in
his pocket quickly and excuses himself, then stands and goes out to the
bathroom.


Carl watches Eamon leave.


Ian's eyes follow the activity around Eamon, moving first to Pedersen's
assistant, next to Eochaid, and finally back to Eamon as he moves to the
bathroom.


Eochaid's arms fold across his chest, and he sinks lower into his seat with a
deep scowl.


Oaken bites his lower lip and stares at his screen in silence for a moment,
brow furrowed.


Sean Conneff observes Eamon's little display curiously, while his boss, Mr.
Reinhold, turns to look at those who are competing with him for this parcel.


The bid stands at 57 million. Precision Products has placed the bid after some
heavy fighting between the St. Claire Bank and Trust, Reinhold and Garrison
Enterprises.


Becca fidgets, and tugs on Pete's coat yet again.


The man calls out "Going once?"


Eamon returns from the bathroom, but doesn't take his seat until the bidding's
over.


Katrina taps something quickly on her keypad--57.5 million.


Adele bends her head towards Tomais once more and shakes her head. At her
side, the young assistant seems more interested in the bidders than the
auction, like many of the others attending on the higher-money bidders.


Mr. Reinhold's expression contorts, passing through confusion to annoyance. He
reaches into his coat pocket and retrieves a cellular phone, pressing it to
his ear. He does not speak, just nods at what he is told.


Carl mouths, "Good God!" at the 57.5 million figure.


F57.9 is quickly topped by 59, and then by 60million. The last number is
entered by Reinhold.


Mr. Reinhold returns the phone to his pocket as he keys in the 60 million. He
seems mildly shaken, but quickly composes himself.


Gideon turns to regard Tasha inquisitively. She shakes her head once, and
returns to her silent, bidless contemplation of the auctioneer.


Katrina Durant frowns to herself, and as if responding to some inner
prompting, keys in 65 million.


Oaken sinks back in his chair and murmurs something to Glissa.


Mr. Reinhold turns in his chair, looking Katrina and her companions up and
down. He then shakes his head and straightens himself.


The thin man looks over the audience. "65 million going once. Going twice.
Sold to St. Claire Bank and Trust."


Jonathan Holtz raises an eyebrow as the bidding progresses, and cuts another
look over to Ian, a passing glance.


The next slide clicks into place and the bedding begins at 10 million once
more.


Ian's attention lingers on Katrina for a few moments, his scrutiny fairly
intense for a casual observer.


Eamon takes a seat, muttering to himself.


Tasha casually leans back in her chair, and places her hands on the shoulders
of her companions, a friendly gesture. Gideon leans forward in his chair,
face cupped in his hands, as if bored-sleepy, or maybe headachy. Tasha rubs
the back of his neck gently.


Gareth taps at the console in front of him, fumbling a little despite having
made other bids.


Dewey Pedersen whistles audibly, shaking his head with a casual lack of humor.
He glances over at the other 'vocal' bidders before looking back through the
crowd. He turns back to the center, his left thumb moving absently to his
mouth where he bites at the nail.


The bid jumps quickly from 10 million to fifteen.
Oaken pushes a few buttons, eyes moving to Eamon and then roving around the
room.
Garrison Enterprises taps in a bid of 23 million, followed quickly by a bid of
35 million from St. Claire Bank and trust.
Ian's gaze jerks away from Katrina and focuses on the screen at the sudden
flurry of bidding on the current lot.
Becca perks up a little, suddenly.
Another bid comes from PP Inc--45 million.
Dewey Pedersen leans over again to the man at his side and whispers to him,
tapping the man's ledgerbook with the end of his pen. Quietly, the reed-thin
accountant stands and leaves the room.
Glissa murmurs with Eochaid and Mike, but doesn't actually bid this time,
glancing towards the front of the room.
Tasha cocks her head, watching the numbers. Claire cranes her neck and turns
in her seat, eying the various bidders.
Fifty million is named by Garrison Enterprises, topped quicly by a bid of 55
from one of the other paper companies still remaining.
Glissa stares at Adele and Tomais with a worried frown.
Adele glances around, entirely at odds with Tomais's study of the map and the
numbers. Very briefly, her gaze catches on Glissa and Oaken, meeting Glissa's
stare with a nearly-imperceptible flicker of an eyebrow upwards and back down.
Miss Dawson scribbles down something in her book. She gets out a cellular
phone and dials. A few words of her whispered conversation can be overheard
by those near to her. "That's righ...Claire Bank and..." She snaps the phone
shut with an audible click and continues to observe again.
Mr. Reinhold watches the numbers with increasing interest, as the numbers
begin to rise meteorically, a small smile edges it's way on to his face. He
reaches for his keypad for the first time on this parcel.
PP Inc bids 60 million, and is rapidly outdone by blue Sky Logging's 75
million bid.
Eamon grumbles quietly to himself.
Oaken quietly snaps his fingers three times at Reinhold in a zig-zaggy motion
and tpyes something new into his keypad.
Glissa nods slightly to Adele with apparent embarrassment, out of the bidding
for this round. But there's a worry behind the casual gesture, and her hands
are pressed tightly in her lap.
Claire turns to regard Reinhold for a moment, then scans the rest of the
audience as she has been.
Dewey Pedersen scribbles again quietly at the pad on his lap, his eyes moving
up to check the board with moderate attention.
Carl reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sheet of paper and starts to read
it, quickly glances up at the various companies represented.
Adele turns back to her quiet murmurs with Tomais. He, not her, types in a bid
on the console, while her attention roams.
Eamon covers his mouth, trying very hard not to laugh at Oaken.
A bid from Oaken sends the numbers up to 80, but two quick key strokes from
Adele and Katrina send it spiraling up to 95 million.
Carl drops his paper at the sight of the last bid. After a few seconds, he
collects himself and picks it up.
Oaken ignores a drop of sweat that falls on the keyboard and types in a new
bid.
The numbers climb again, this time to $100 million from PP Inc.
Carl shakes his head.
Eamon nods at Oaken and stands, walking to the door.
Katrina frowns, and taps in a quick bid. $150.
Oaken pauses on the verge of typing something in, and looks at Miss Dawson.
Dewey Pedersen turns to watch Eamon walk for the door. His attention then
rests on Oaken for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly. He then turns back to
the bidding and his scribbling.
Miss Dawson seems to notice the young man for the first time. She looks up at
the numbers on the screen, back to him and nods, almost imperceptibly. That
is all before she looks back down at her book again.
Mr. Reinhold and Sean remain impassive, sitting stiffly. Reinhold's gaze
remains fixed on the numerical display. Sean sits, neck craned, with his eyes
fixed on the back door.
A bid from Sandrego Enterprises raises the numbers once again. $175 million is
the current figure.
Oaken tugs at his garish tie and types in a new figure.
$180 million from PP Inc, followed by a bid of $182 by Katrina Durant.
Tasha digs her hand Gideon's neck. The young man is trembling ever so
slightly. Sucj subtle gestures are probably missed by those around them.
Oaken pauses for a second time to catch Miss Dawson's eye.
Miss Dawson seems to look up at the same moment as Oaken looks her away. Again
that silent nod.
PP Inc sends in a bid for 185 million.
After the $185 million bid, Sean's head snaps back around. The big logger
growls almost incoherently, the sound rising in his throat like a tide of
bitter anger. His chair partly buckles, and his head snaps left and right as
if he were looking for something to hit. At the same moment, Reinhold pulls
his attention from the number display. A moment of bemusement passes quickly,
before he shakes his head as if clearing it, then looks with alarm at his
large companion.
Big Mike pulls out a Dry-Erase marker and scribbles a note.
Dewey Pedersen watches the Bluesky antics, his eyes narrowing slightly. He
purses his lips, biting again at his thumbnail.
Carl smerks at the logger's frustration for a second, before turning to the
screen.
At the sudden and almost-violent activity from the Blue Sky contingent, Ian's
right hand brushes back the hem of his sports jacket, unclasps the safety
strap on his gun holster, and finally rests on the pistol's parkerized grip.
Eamon looks back at Ian, then shakes his head emphatically.
In the back, the man acknowledged only once by Adele drops his hand towards
his jacket pocket as well, though he makes no further move.
Ian's hand does not leave his firearm, though he does give Eamon a slow nod.
Carl locks his eyes on Ian.
Glissa bites her lip, gazing around with an expression of utter discomfort,
avoiding looking anywhere near the irritable loggers.
Tasha seems oblivious to the lack of deportment being displayed by certain
contingents.
Eamon pretends that he doesn't notice the man seemingly having a fit.
The man at the front holds up a hand, and two security guards step forward,
heading towards Sean.
Sean's meaty fist lashes out at the poor soul seated directly in front of the
big logger. The hand catches the edge of the metal seat back, tearing the
sheet metal before slamming into the back of the man's head with a sickening
crunch. Reinhold, with thinly disguised horror, watches Sean as he leaps to
his feet.
Gareth cowers back a little; a touch on his arm from the man at his side
settles him, and he bestows a glowing, slightly adoring smile on the man, who
returns it a little shyly. Sean's sudden movements disturb the scene
entirely, and Gareth lets out a slight shriek.
Ian draws his gun smoothly, dropping into a firing stance with the weapon
aimed at Sean's head. "Federal agent!" he cries out, his voice clear above
the din. "Don't move!"
Glissa is digging into her purse for something as the logger loses it utterly,
and drops what she just retrieved onto the floor with a clatter. Appears to
be worrybeads. She stares towards the front of the room in utter shock.
Mr. Reinhold throws himself back, away from the rampaging logger. He gasps
out, angrily, "Conneff!"
Eamon mutters, "Oh, shit."
Tasha rises to her feet, Claire with her. Gideon remains hunched over, face in
his hands.
Dewey Pedersen glances over toward Sean, shaking his head as he as he mvoes
pack at the sight of the gun, tipping a chair in the process.
Katrina rises to her feet and steps behind the large bodyguard.
Oaken's mouth opens and closes as he stares at Sean, slowly sliding a little
black cannister out of his jacket pocket and into his hand.
Tasha says, softly, "Gideon." The young man's back heaves, as froma great sigh.
Carl slides off his seat and kneels to the ground at the sight of the gun.
Nathan has arrived.
Jonathan Holtz's response comes as smooth as Ian, a revolver suddenly trained
on Sean along a different line of sight. "Federal agent," he echos, voice
tight with authority, and advances a step in an attempt for a clearer line on
Sean.
Big Mike watches the big logger calmly and surreptitiously palms something
from a pocket.
Adele's hands close tight into fists, almost in tandem with Sean's
inexplicable explosion. She doesn't look at the logger, staring instead,
fixedly, at the console in front of herself and Tomais. Tomais himself looks
wildly at Sean's explosion and half-rises, then drops back with a faint gulp
as he recognizes Ian's voice.
Miss Dawson stiffens. The folder slides off of her laps and her hand slips
into her leather attache. Well away from the trouble area, she simply stays
inconspicuous, watching the proceedings.
Ian continues to speak as he advances, slowly, his gun held in both hands and
trained on the logger. He does not so much as glance at Holtz as he moves.
"Lace your fingers together behind your head. Kneel, and then lie down, face
down, with your legs spread."
Glissa murmurs something in a frightened low whisper to her neighbors, staying
bent low in her chair with her hands frozen over her purse.
Gideon McIntyre gives a sudden lurch, and slides off his metal chair with sad
silence. He lands in a heap on the floor. Tasha shares a look of horror with
claire, and the two crouch over his body.
Becca's head turns this way and that, with one call and then the other. With
just time for a quick "holy shit" she slides off she seat. Safety first,
after all.
Tasha says, loud and a bit hysterical, "Gidget? Gidget?!?"
Sean Conneff, frantic now, whips his head back and forth as he stares around
the room. Foam begins to form at the corner of his mouth, and his barely
intelligent gaze fastens on the rear door of the room. Heedless of the
weapons pointed his way, he starts climbing over people and chairs, making a
beeline towards the back door.
Eamon moves towards the back, towards Ian.
Pete Barlow has arrived.
Mr. Reinhold stays where he is, leaning away from Sean and pressing into the
woman next to him.
Oaken twists in his chair to try to get between Miss Dawson and any of the
folk either toting guns or drooling.
Carl peeks up from the top of his chair, looking at Sean's mad rampage.
Eochaid quickly moves out of Sean's way, dragging Glissa with him.
Pete Barlow glances over at Becca, then toward the foaming logger, his stance
lowering slightly. He pulls a woman back away from the approaching rampage.
Ian's finger tightens on the trigger of his weapon as Sean bolts, the gun's
report deafening in the tight confines of the room. Four shots ring out in
rapid succession before the logger reaches the back exit, and Ian.
Claire kneels by Gideon, and checks his vitals. She quickly, efficiently
begins CPR.
Eamon suddenly dashes towards Ian and grabs him, yanking hima out of the way
of Sean.
Carl ducks his head down at the sound of the shots.
Nathan leans forward, covering his head with his hands. He mutters something
softly to himself.
Big Mike lays a hand gently and protectively on Glissa's back.
Jonathan Holtz keeps the gun drawn and the muzzle slightly elevated, trusting
Ian to handle Sean and his attention on the rest of the room. Not a flinch
when the expected shots ring out, though the movement of Eamon toward Ian
draws attention of eyes and gun with a smooth pivot.
Glissa crouches lower, blanching violently at every gunshot and chalky-pale.
She doesn't attempt to look back.
Dewey Pedersen moves back against a wall, watching with obvious distraction.
"What is ..." He looks over at Reinhold. "You're doing," he might heard to
mutter.
Adele flinches with the sounds of the gun, dazed and barely comprehending gaze
finally turning towards Ian, and Sean.
Miss Dawson does not avoid Oaken's attention, only cluthes her attache more
protectively to herself, suprised at the sudden gunshots.
Sean Conneff continues his charge towards the back door. Unfortunate people
who end up in his way are either trampled, or tossed aside like rag dolls.
The rows of metal chairs crumple weakly under Sean's onslaught. As the shots
ring out, the massive logger flinches, twisting a little as a bullet opens a
line of blood on the side of his face. Two more bullets slam into his chest,
but barely seem to slow the unbelievably rapid and powerful stride.
Tasha seems to be watching Claire attempt to save Gideon even as she watches
Conneff. She hisses to herself, quietly, "Clumsy, clumsy, clumsy."
Ian's fourth shot is thrown wide, though harmlessly so, by Eamon's
intervention. Sean reaches the door just as Ian shrugs out of Eamon's grasp,
drops his aim, and fires one more round round, point-blank, at Sean's near
knee.
Carl crawls towards the side of the room, trying to not to get crushed or shot
in the ensueing madness.
Eochaid looks very surprised at Eamon's actions and shouts, "What the bloody
hell do you think you're doing?"
Eamon says, "Oh, shit," then dives at Ian, trying to tackle him out of the way.
Adele mumbles, shakily, not quite clearly, "Reinhold."
Oaken, seeing Sean safely at the other end of the room, looks around and
notices Tasha's contingent for the first time. He hesitates, on the balls of
his feet, and then begins trying to push forward towards Gideon swearing
angrily.
Eochaid turns away from Glissa, leaving Mike to tend her, and heads off to
where Eamon is.
Glissa edges towards the wall of the room and flattens against the floor,
giving Eochaid and Mike plenty of room. You'd almost think she'd planned to
have that side-aisle seat.
Sean Conneff barely blinks as the fifth bullet slams into the side of his
knee. His stride doesn't slow, and as the doors shatter outwards, a wild hand
catches Ian in the shoulder. The FBI agent is thrown back violently, flipping
over Eamon's shoulder and out of his grasp.
Tasha is leaking tears, and she stutters at Oaken. "It's his brain, some sort
of aneurism, the doctor's said it could happen any time..." She's the picture
of despair, somehow accentuated by Claire's efforts.
Nathan lifts his head a fraction. Assessing the room, he half stands and works
his way to the relative safety of the side wall.
Carl stands up and tries to force his way towards Ian and Eamon.
Sean Conneff has left.
Jonathan Holtz, without a shot yet fired during this whole fracas, takes
several decisive steps toward the rear door and Sean with gun drawn. A pause
for the carnage to die down, and he follows.