05-11-2014, 08:35 PM
When Reed walked around the corner, everyone in the room - himself included - flinched. Some more than others. She certainly was a sight: bloodied axe in one hand, pistol in another. Like a character out of some movie. He supposed he shouldn't complain; that sort of thing was kind of a necessity if surviving an Islamic revolution was part of your plan. The collective sigh of relief when they realized that she was clearly not a Muslim could have probably powered a wind turbine for a year.
Everyone in the room was terrified, and he had no doubts that she could detect it. A spy who can't read emotions isn't a very good one. But she was more predator than prey. Nicholas was her mission, these people were not. He doubted she had much in the way of empathy. "Good boy. I'll give you a treat, later," she said - and Nicholas half expected a pat on the head to accompany it. He'd have bristled at that treatment, if only he hadn't both learned that would do him no good and gotten used to various Reed-isms over the past couple months.
So he took the path of least resistance, a flat, "Missed you too."
More's the pity that he couldn't replicate that look of hers. There was more shouting outside, in Arabic. They seemed to be going the other direction, and everyone was away from the doors, so he pulled her aside - a comfortable distance from everybody else. "I know exactly what you're going to say, and no. We're not just leaving these people to be gunned down by a bunch of jihadists."
"Fine," she said flatly, glancing behind them. It was a strange kind of cute - pouting because she couldn't leave people to die. "But if it comes down to you or them, it's going to be you." He blinked at how easy that was. "Have your wizard wand at the ready?" And just barely resisted the urge to make a bad joke at what she said next, although the ghost of a smirk might have given him away.
"Always. Let's just hope I don't have to use it in public - could cause a scandal."
Of course, depending on just how that public use happened, he supposed he might be able to coast on by. Better to never find out, though. As far as he was concerned, it'd be best if people thought Brandon was the antichrist. "I think we should move through the maintenance hallways. There should be an entrance through the kitchen. It won't be hard to figure out where the Custody's holing up from there."
But then again he wasn't the expert in traversing a battlefield - closest he'd gotten was writing propaganda about the experts. "Sound good?"
Every mall had maintenance hallways. Airports, with their shops and restaurants, were similar. Couldn't have food, staff and merchandise delivered through the terminal. It'd hold everything up. All they'd have to do was get into those halls and work their way around until they figured out where the defenders were organizing - just follow the gunfire. And if there were any marauding bands of revolutionaries, at least they couldn't get sneaky.
Reed shrugged. "Good thing one of us found one of these on their way," she pulled Ramon's airport badge from her belt loop. "It's like we have one mind!" She smirked and headed for the bar. "This way."
While he and Reed figured out what to do, everyone else had been chatting nervously among themselves. At least they'd all stayed put, and quietly. "Alright everyone, we're going to head through the maintenance hallways. It'll be safer than trying to go through the main terminal. I need you all to keep quiet and move quickly, alright? The entrance is in the kitchen. My,"
he paused for a fraction of a second, "friend has the key. Follow her."
Aaand, of course.
Someone was smart enough to realize they were listening to a television personality on how to survive a war zone. In literally any other situation Nicholas would have been able to relate. Of course it was a businessman, and he looked pretty well off. Of course. The skin color and the accent gave him away as Indian. "Why the hell should we listen to you? What makes you think they're going to kill us? We're not soldiers! Trying to escape might get us killed faster than sitting here and letting them take us hostage."
And that opened the God damn floodgates. But over the once again shattered peace, Nicholas heard something ten times worse. A band of gunmen was finally headed towards the restaurant, and they sounded pissed. He finally connected dots with the blood on the axe. He was willing to bet there was a dead body or two right in front of the store. "Look, we don't have any time for this."
It took only a couple steps to reach the guy - him shouting all the way - and Nicholas punched him in the face full force. The shock of contact with his pudgy face reverberated up his arm. It hurt a lot more than he expected - he didn't do that often. But the guy was out cold. Wouldn't wake up for at least a minute, and that was all they needed to save his life. He turned back to the morons in the room, standing on train tracks and too busy screeching to hear the bell. They'd all fallen quiet. "Somebody pick him up! We're not leaving anyone here to get killed."
He muttered, almost as an afterthought, "He can sue me later."
The rest of the people fell in line pretty quickly after that. Nicholas flexed his hand and watched them pile into the back, a couple of them dragging the Indian man by his arms. Seriously, did he break a bone or something? It hurt. They didn't have much time before those gunmen came around the corner. "Reed!"
No time at all.
She came through the door in a flash, and none too soon. She jumped the bar and sprinted past. At the edge of the restaurant, she kicked a chair out from a table. It slammed into the knee of a gunman coming around the corner and tangled up in his feet. The ax took out the next one. On the downswing two pops of the pistol dropped the another pair. She skidded into the passageway leading to a women's restroom on the opposite side of the hall just as the rest fell back to a more defensible location. Nicholas let out a low whistle before he caught himself.
That left Nicholas next to the bar, straight across from Reed. Any gunman coming through the door would have to deal with one of them. He prepared himself to do the thing he'd hoped to avoid, drawing the power he had been keeping at a low rumble into hurricane force. He heard a lot more shouting then - a word that sounded like 'kaffer' seeming to be a local favorite. Then gunfire erupted, and bullets ripped through the walls, a couple snapping through the air mere feet from where Nicholas was standing, and he reflexively stumbled back. The only thing was, it wasn't the animalistic bark of a Soviet-era AK-47 or slightly-newer AKM. He'd never expected the sight of a fully armed and armored Custody Knight to be a relief, but when the group of them fanned out to clear the room he was pleasantly surprised.
One pointed his rifle at Reed, and told her to drop her pistol. She shrugged and handed it over. Nicholas doubted the guy realized what she could do, even with just her hands. He'd never have guessed himself. Finally confident they were secure, their sergeant deigned to speak. He pulled off his helmet - interestingly enough, he was middle eastern. "We're here to extract every civilian we can find to the rally point. Do you have any wounded?"
Nicholas shook his head, "No. But we were just about to head into the maintenance hallways. Everybody's terrified, sergeant. They might have ran when they heard the gunfire."
He made to go check, but thought better of it. This wasn't the time to start ordering actual soldiers around - they'd think he was a moron, and they'd be right. "Are you going to go after them?"
There was only a moment's hesitation. "We'll find them."
The sergeant spat in the direction of one of the bodies. "These crazy bastards want to bring Dominance V back to the stone age - and there's a long stint in Jahannam for anyone who would leave people to be taken by them."
He looked Nicholas in the eyes, oblivious to the power he still held just below the surface. "Why didn't you two run?"
Nicholas shrugged, figuring it was unlikely the sergeant would guess magical powers. "Stupidity."
He flexed his hand again - God damn that hurt.
Edited by Nick Trano, May 11 2014, 08:51 PM.
Everyone in the room was terrified, and he had no doubts that she could detect it. A spy who can't read emotions isn't a very good one. But she was more predator than prey. Nicholas was her mission, these people were not. He doubted she had much in the way of empathy. "Good boy. I'll give you a treat, later," she said - and Nicholas half expected a pat on the head to accompany it. He'd have bristled at that treatment, if only he hadn't both learned that would do him no good and gotten used to various Reed-isms over the past couple months.
So he took the path of least resistance, a flat, "Missed you too."
More's the pity that he couldn't replicate that look of hers. There was more shouting outside, in Arabic. They seemed to be going the other direction, and everyone was away from the doors, so he pulled her aside - a comfortable distance from everybody else. "I know exactly what you're going to say, and no. We're not just leaving these people to be gunned down by a bunch of jihadists."
"Fine," she said flatly, glancing behind them. It was a strange kind of cute - pouting because she couldn't leave people to die. "But if it comes down to you or them, it's going to be you." He blinked at how easy that was. "Have your wizard wand at the ready?" And just barely resisted the urge to make a bad joke at what she said next, although the ghost of a smirk might have given him away.
"Always. Let's just hope I don't have to use it in public - could cause a scandal."
Of course, depending on just how that public use happened, he supposed he might be able to coast on by. Better to never find out, though. As far as he was concerned, it'd be best if people thought Brandon was the antichrist. "I think we should move through the maintenance hallways. There should be an entrance through the kitchen. It won't be hard to figure out where the Custody's holing up from there."
But then again he wasn't the expert in traversing a battlefield - closest he'd gotten was writing propaganda about the experts. "Sound good?"
Every mall had maintenance hallways. Airports, with their shops and restaurants, were similar. Couldn't have food, staff and merchandise delivered through the terminal. It'd hold everything up. All they'd have to do was get into those halls and work their way around until they figured out where the defenders were organizing - just follow the gunfire. And if there were any marauding bands of revolutionaries, at least they couldn't get sneaky.
Reed shrugged. "Good thing one of us found one of these on their way," she pulled Ramon's airport badge from her belt loop. "It's like we have one mind!" She smirked and headed for the bar. "This way."
While he and Reed figured out what to do, everyone else had been chatting nervously among themselves. At least they'd all stayed put, and quietly. "Alright everyone, we're going to head through the maintenance hallways. It'll be safer than trying to go through the main terminal. I need you all to keep quiet and move quickly, alright? The entrance is in the kitchen. My,"
he paused for a fraction of a second, "friend has the key. Follow her."
Aaand, of course.
Someone was smart enough to realize they were listening to a television personality on how to survive a war zone. In literally any other situation Nicholas would have been able to relate. Of course it was a businessman, and he looked pretty well off. Of course. The skin color and the accent gave him away as Indian. "Why the hell should we listen to you? What makes you think they're going to kill us? We're not soldiers! Trying to escape might get us killed faster than sitting here and letting them take us hostage."
And that opened the God damn floodgates. But over the once again shattered peace, Nicholas heard something ten times worse. A band of gunmen was finally headed towards the restaurant, and they sounded pissed. He finally connected dots with the blood on the axe. He was willing to bet there was a dead body or two right in front of the store. "Look, we don't have any time for this."
It took only a couple steps to reach the guy - him shouting all the way - and Nicholas punched him in the face full force. The shock of contact with his pudgy face reverberated up his arm. It hurt a lot more than he expected - he didn't do that often. But the guy was out cold. Wouldn't wake up for at least a minute, and that was all they needed to save his life. He turned back to the morons in the room, standing on train tracks and too busy screeching to hear the bell. They'd all fallen quiet. "Somebody pick him up! We're not leaving anyone here to get killed."
He muttered, almost as an afterthought, "He can sue me later."
The rest of the people fell in line pretty quickly after that. Nicholas flexed his hand and watched them pile into the back, a couple of them dragging the Indian man by his arms. Seriously, did he break a bone or something? It hurt. They didn't have much time before those gunmen came around the corner. "Reed!"
No time at all.
She came through the door in a flash, and none too soon. She jumped the bar and sprinted past. At the edge of the restaurant, she kicked a chair out from a table. It slammed into the knee of a gunman coming around the corner and tangled up in his feet. The ax took out the next one. On the downswing two pops of the pistol dropped the another pair. She skidded into the passageway leading to a women's restroom on the opposite side of the hall just as the rest fell back to a more defensible location. Nicholas let out a low whistle before he caught himself.
That left Nicholas next to the bar, straight across from Reed. Any gunman coming through the door would have to deal with one of them. He prepared himself to do the thing he'd hoped to avoid, drawing the power he had been keeping at a low rumble into hurricane force. He heard a lot more shouting then - a word that sounded like 'kaffer' seeming to be a local favorite. Then gunfire erupted, and bullets ripped through the walls, a couple snapping through the air mere feet from where Nicholas was standing, and he reflexively stumbled back. The only thing was, it wasn't the animalistic bark of a Soviet-era AK-47 or slightly-newer AKM. He'd never expected the sight of a fully armed and armored Custody Knight to be a relief, but when the group of them fanned out to clear the room he was pleasantly surprised.
One pointed his rifle at Reed, and told her to drop her pistol. She shrugged and handed it over. Nicholas doubted the guy realized what she could do, even with just her hands. He'd never have guessed himself. Finally confident they were secure, their sergeant deigned to speak. He pulled off his helmet - interestingly enough, he was middle eastern. "We're here to extract every civilian we can find to the rally point. Do you have any wounded?"
Nicholas shook his head, "No. But we were just about to head into the maintenance hallways. Everybody's terrified, sergeant. They might have ran when they heard the gunfire."
He made to go check, but thought better of it. This wasn't the time to start ordering actual soldiers around - they'd think he was a moron, and they'd be right. "Are you going to go after them?"
There was only a moment's hesitation. "We'll find them."
The sergeant spat in the direction of one of the bodies. "These crazy bastards want to bring Dominance V back to the stone age - and there's a long stint in Jahannam for anyone who would leave people to be taken by them."
He looked Nicholas in the eyes, oblivious to the power he still held just below the surface. "Why didn't you two run?"
Nicholas shrugged, figuring it was unlikely the sergeant would guess magical powers. "Stupidity."
He flexed his hand again - God damn that hurt.
Edited by Nick Trano, May 11 2014, 08:51 PM.