[b]Zaphkiel[/b]

The angel, having had disposed of Shrieker for the moment, took the opportunity to survey the damage, looking about for whatever hostages may require his aid; the chaotic nature of Shrieker's yells more than likely had disrupted a few ears, and sent several innocents careening... or things careening into [i]them[/i]. A woman in particular suffered from the worst of it, having a wooden piece of shrapnel embedded in her stomach. Zaphkiel rushed over to her side, examining the injury and intensifying the natural aura that surrounded him; one that aided in soothing the minds of all that looked upon him. With a quick gaze about, he noted a man with an arm in pain, and a few scraped persons -nothing in comparison to the life-threatening wound the woman faced. Zaphkiel hovered his hand around the shrapnel, as if to derive some information by it.

The angel scooped up the woman as tenderly as possible, taking care to keep her abdomen in the same position as it was before. With a few flaps of his wings, he gently lifted through the hole in the ceiling and made his way to the exterior lot, looking for anyone with greater medical expertise than himself. An ambulance sat in the back of the police-car barricade, surely there in preparation for whoever might survive. The angel dropped to the ground slowly, and left the woman to their care, awaiting to see her fully rested and looked over. Zaphkiel flew back to the second floor, and began lifting individuals in twos, threes, and fours to the sanctity of the outside world; he could hear that the fighting still transpired on the first floor, and so he carried them in a different direction than by the stairwell.