03-09-2014, 12:10 PM
Ime exited the car first. Reed followed.
Chaos hit her like a slap in the face. And she was powerless to cut the bastard's fucking throat.
Behind dark lenses, she scanned everything from the footing of the ground to the calculated body weights, build and notable features of the nearest ten men. Excluding Ime. The good corporal was already sized up long ago - in an elevator that seemed half a world away from the dark ages they'd apparently found.
Corporal Ime took a position that protectively sandwiched her between the crowd ahead and the vehicle behind. Good for them. Should she have a mind to take someone out, Ime might slow her down a second. Maybe two. He seemed to know how to handle himself.
Jacques was sucked into leadership. Command diverted his focus completely from Reed. To her preference. It gave her time to triangulate Trano's location.
He was quick about it. By the time Reed had Trano's location on her Wallet, grown men were on their hands and knees vomiting their brains out. Ewe, she shook her head and flipped on the sync that put the map to Trano on the interior of her lenses. X marks the spot. Literally.
One hundred meters of angry Saudis separated Reed from the sack of bones that was her current mission. She shot a glance at a seemingly vacant roof-line, and time slowed to a crawl. She had a decision to make. Risk blowing her cover, or risk losing Trano. Somehow, she had to save both.
In a flash she sprinted forward. She heard Corporal Ime's yells behind her, but she was already beyond the initial seawall of the mob. Moments later, a surge of heat soared overhead. Her scalp erupted in rivulets of sweat. She dropped mid-sprint, and barely felt the scrape of stone against her knees. When she rolled out of it, a sphere of fire hurled in place of where her head had been moments before. Ime, hot on her heels, literally and figuratively, saw it too. He leaped aside, dodging its path, and watched in helpless horror as it streaked toward the vehicle behind.
Reed was already on the balls of her feet, and all the more eager to get Trano back under her protection, when the fire dissolved in a hissing rush of anger. The cold look she shot Ime was interrupted by the billowing of a white thobe, and when next he looked, Reed was ten meters gone.
Her feet pounded the ground. She threw her weight against men twice her size, and plowed the road with her momentum. She had one eye on her phone, following the map to the red circle that was her mark.
Then that circle blinked. Reed looked down. Trano was on the move! He--A thud slammed into her. She fell, and twisted enough to land without breaking a wrist. Pain flushed through her hip and leg. Her phone flew from her hand, and was lost under a hundred robed feet. She grunted in frustration, and rolled faceup at the exact moment a foot was about to smash into her face. She threw her forearms forward and blocked her skull from being crushed.
The assailant, a heavily built man young man powered by righteous fury stumbled. She hurled her knee up and struck him in his unbalance. He stumbled off, and Reed, throwing herself to her feet, followed. She finished him off with an elbow to the jaw, and spun as three of his buddies swarmed on her.
The first she thwarted with a heel strike up the nose. With his neck thrown backward, she shoved him into the second. The third roared a string of not very nice words in Arabic, and Reed dug in her heels. But the one that intended to turn her face into a doormat was back, and caught her from behind. Thick arms wrenched hers into a lock that required more attention to break than she could afford at the moment. A fist pounded her stomach and she groaned in pain. Another wrung its way through her hair and pulled her head up in time to be struck across the face. The metallic flicker of blood filled her lip. The bastard had been wearing a heavy ring.
Then the good Corporal was there. While the mob's weapons were brute force and blood-rage, he had actual weapons, and made quick work of taking a baton to her captor's knee. Released, Reed fell from his grip as the whirl of a baton landed against the man's temple. He dropped like a sack of bricks, blood staining his headdress.
She and Ime went back to back as two bodies replaced every one they dropped, until they were completely enclosed. "I'd not turn down back up right now!"
She yelled to Ime over one shoulder. He chuckled.
"I am the backup!"
He replied, and Reed cursed to herself. He pulled his second pistol and thrust it around for her to take. So these French bastards had actual guns? Finally! She checked it briefly. The defensive stance she took forced the wall of people to hesitate charging her.
Ime's skull was thrown against the back of her own. Shock riddled her already tense muscles, and she spun on pure instinct. Ime crumpled, shot between the eyes. The momentum of the bullet must have jerked his head into hers. She had only a heartbeat to steal glances at the roof-line she'd studied before. Her teeth clamped down as she studied the face of the man that needlessly came to her rescue. Fool. That bullet could have been meant for her.
She left him behind for the mob to defile if they wanted. They likely would. Poor bastard. For the moment at least, they were as shocked as she was, and she intended to take full advantage. She elbowed her way out without a second glance behind. Trano was still out there.
By the time she made it to Trano's last known location, he was no where to be found. She jumped up on the edge of a statue to get a better sight over the crowd. And what she saw almost made her throw herself back into the mob. Trano had made it back to Jacques while she'd been dancing the macarena with Ime. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his body lifted and carried away. What a fucking waste.
Tossing her hands, she hopped down and took her time about rendezvousing with them back at the vehicles. She touched her cheek and lip on the way. Both were tender, and she spit out the wad that welled up behind her teeth.
Chaos hit her like a slap in the face. And she was powerless to cut the bastard's fucking throat.
Behind dark lenses, she scanned everything from the footing of the ground to the calculated body weights, build and notable features of the nearest ten men. Excluding Ime. The good corporal was already sized up long ago - in an elevator that seemed half a world away from the dark ages they'd apparently found.
Corporal Ime took a position that protectively sandwiched her between the crowd ahead and the vehicle behind. Good for them. Should she have a mind to take someone out, Ime might slow her down a second. Maybe two. He seemed to know how to handle himself.
Jacques was sucked into leadership. Command diverted his focus completely from Reed. To her preference. It gave her time to triangulate Trano's location.
He was quick about it. By the time Reed had Trano's location on her Wallet, grown men were on their hands and knees vomiting their brains out. Ewe, she shook her head and flipped on the sync that put the map to Trano on the interior of her lenses. X marks the spot. Literally.
One hundred meters of angry Saudis separated Reed from the sack of bones that was her current mission. She shot a glance at a seemingly vacant roof-line, and time slowed to a crawl. She had a decision to make. Risk blowing her cover, or risk losing Trano. Somehow, she had to save both.
In a flash she sprinted forward. She heard Corporal Ime's yells behind her, but she was already beyond the initial seawall of the mob. Moments later, a surge of heat soared overhead. Her scalp erupted in rivulets of sweat. She dropped mid-sprint, and barely felt the scrape of stone against her knees. When she rolled out of it, a sphere of fire hurled in place of where her head had been moments before. Ime, hot on her heels, literally and figuratively, saw it too. He leaped aside, dodging its path, and watched in helpless horror as it streaked toward the vehicle behind.
Reed was already on the balls of her feet, and all the more eager to get Trano back under her protection, when the fire dissolved in a hissing rush of anger. The cold look she shot Ime was interrupted by the billowing of a white thobe, and when next he looked, Reed was ten meters gone.
Her feet pounded the ground. She threw her weight against men twice her size, and plowed the road with her momentum. She had one eye on her phone, following the map to the red circle that was her mark.
Then that circle blinked. Reed looked down. Trano was on the move! He--A thud slammed into her. She fell, and twisted enough to land without breaking a wrist. Pain flushed through her hip and leg. Her phone flew from her hand, and was lost under a hundred robed feet. She grunted in frustration, and rolled faceup at the exact moment a foot was about to smash into her face. She threw her forearms forward and blocked her skull from being crushed.
The assailant, a heavily built man young man powered by righteous fury stumbled. She hurled her knee up and struck him in his unbalance. He stumbled off, and Reed, throwing herself to her feet, followed. She finished him off with an elbow to the jaw, and spun as three of his buddies swarmed on her.
The first she thwarted with a heel strike up the nose. With his neck thrown backward, she shoved him into the second. The third roared a string of not very nice words in Arabic, and Reed dug in her heels. But the one that intended to turn her face into a doormat was back, and caught her from behind. Thick arms wrenched hers into a lock that required more attention to break than she could afford at the moment. A fist pounded her stomach and she groaned in pain. Another wrung its way through her hair and pulled her head up in time to be struck across the face. The metallic flicker of blood filled her lip. The bastard had been wearing a heavy ring.
Then the good Corporal was there. While the mob's weapons were brute force and blood-rage, he had actual weapons, and made quick work of taking a baton to her captor's knee. Released, Reed fell from his grip as the whirl of a baton landed against the man's temple. He dropped like a sack of bricks, blood staining his headdress.
She and Ime went back to back as two bodies replaced every one they dropped, until they were completely enclosed. "I'd not turn down back up right now!"
She yelled to Ime over one shoulder. He chuckled.
"I am the backup!"
He replied, and Reed cursed to herself. He pulled his second pistol and thrust it around for her to take. So these French bastards had actual guns? Finally! She checked it briefly. The defensive stance she took forced the wall of people to hesitate charging her.
Ime's skull was thrown against the back of her own. Shock riddled her already tense muscles, and she spun on pure instinct. Ime crumpled, shot between the eyes. The momentum of the bullet must have jerked his head into hers. She had only a heartbeat to steal glances at the roof-line she'd studied before. Her teeth clamped down as she studied the face of the man that needlessly came to her rescue. Fool. That bullet could have been meant for her.
She left him behind for the mob to defile if they wanted. They likely would. Poor bastard. For the moment at least, they were as shocked as she was, and she intended to take full advantage. She elbowed her way out without a second glance behind. Trano was still out there.
By the time she made it to Trano's last known location, he was no where to be found. She jumped up on the edge of a statue to get a better sight over the crowd. And what she saw almost made her throw herself back into the mob. Trano had made it back to Jacques while she'd been dancing the macarena with Ime. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his body lifted and carried away. What a fucking waste.
Tossing her hands, she hopped down and took her time about rendezvousing with them back at the vehicles. She touched her cheek and lip on the way. Both were tender, and she spit out the wad that welled up behind her teeth.