Frankie dives to the ground a moment after the Asian girl. Clearly the hangover hasn't done much for her reaction speed. She swears at the sudden cold sensation across the side of her pants. Surely she hasn't..?

She glances down, relieved to see that the wetness in her jeans is from the spilled water bottle, not any lack of self-control on her part. Her mind is torn away from that quickly however, as Yoko starts to twist, writhe and roar like an animal in pain. The cause of that pain grows swiftly more evident as her body begins to change shape. Frances backs away, scrambling awkwardly over the rough surface of the roof until her back hits the wall at the edge. She stares in panic at Yoko, then ducks, swearing loudly as a barrage of bullets tears through the parapet above her head.

Right now Yoko is going to have to look after herself. Frankie has brought her pistol, but it won't be much good from here, not with the amount of firepower the Boyz have brought with them. Instead she fumbles at the shotgun belt, eventually pulling out a small clear plastic vial filled with a white powder. As carefully as she can she taps a line out onto the back of her hand.

The ridiculousness of this flashes through her mind for a brief moment, and she has to suppress the chuckle to stop herself from blowing away a line of the purest cocaine she has. She's pretty sure everyone already thinks she's a crazy junkie, this is not going to help that situation. Too late now anyway. Lowering her head to the back of her hand, she snorts the white powder, feeling the rush almost immediately.

Shaking her head, she widens her eyes as the coke kicks her system into overdrive. It's one of the better abilities she has, at least she stays mostly in control, albeit wired as fuck on this stuff. She realises things have only gotten worse while she gets high, so she should probably start doing something useful before they start thinking that she's nothing more than a crack addled junkie. Cupping both hands, she conjures white fire into them, gathering as much as she can before turning and standing above the parapet.

Flattening her hands out she pushes the flames towards the biggest gathering she can see, a group now divided by a sudden outburst of plant life amongst them. The twin streams almost reach them. Almost.

The centre of the street goes off like a bomb, the shockwave blowing Frankie off her feet. She lands hard the air rushing out of her. Stunned, she lies there for a second before eventually managing to roll to her hands and knees. In a strange echo of earlier that morning she crawls to the wall, using it to haul herself to her feet. The centre of the street is now a blackened scorch mark, with several very dead members of the Boyz lying charred and unmoving the flames. Most of the plants are alight as well, as well as a good deal of the surrounding buildings where the fire has managed to find purchase. Frankie stares at her hands in disbelief at their apparent power. [b]"What the fuck?"[/b]

She dives to the ground again as a bullet flies so close it could have given her a haircut. Clearly the explosion didn't get all of them.