03-22-2014, 03:41 PM
Reed strolled up behind Trano looking none the worse for wear. She was sweating. The dust smeared across her cheek and brow mottled her face, but the actual soldiers were worse-off. Ime's firearm was hidden away, too. So she kept up Jacques' schemes that she was panicked into running away.
His cold glare did nothing, and slid off like oil on water. The fault for the corporal's death could be laid at her feet according to some interpretations, but even if it were, Reed cared less. Soldiers died, and that one took a bullet doing what he'd signed up to do. Reed never asked him for help. If she wasn't capable on her own, she would have been dead before Jacques was old enough to get his first wood.
She just shrugged when the attention turned her way, and brushed off the judgement pounding her with guilt that would never guilt her into a single sleepless night. It was Trano she cared about. Second on the list of cares was the identity of the person that took a shot at her. A sniper of that quality should have been able to hit Reed between the eyes from an easy thousand meters. They would have had a spotter on team, too. Taking out a worthless corporal was a waste of a bullet, in her opinion, especially when there were officers - and Jacques - in easy sights. The latter stood out like a sore thumb. Trano's headgear probably helped him blend in, but his pale white ass was easy enough to spot by trained eyes. He should have been dead ten minutes before the cavalry even arrived.
So the shot was meant to incite rioting, and send Reed a message at the same time.
Message received.
She stalked to Trano and pulled him aside. She pat him down and checked him out for hidden, shock induced insensitivity to injuries. He was fine, she quickly concluded, and was ready to climb in the getaway vehicles.
***
The cars pulled up beneath a shaded drive, and from the sides emerged Reed and Trano, and whichever of Jacques men deemed worthy to escort them indoors. She was still smeared with dust and grit, but Reed cut through the lobby without concern for the strange looks they passed. Trano, on the other hand, was almost swarmed by other members of the press, and it took far too long to get to the elevator than she preferred.
She glanced at her watch at one point and counted down the hours until the Ascendancy's arrival. Things were only likely to get worse between now and then.
His cold glare did nothing, and slid off like oil on water. The fault for the corporal's death could be laid at her feet according to some interpretations, but even if it were, Reed cared less. Soldiers died, and that one took a bullet doing what he'd signed up to do. Reed never asked him for help. If she wasn't capable on her own, she would have been dead before Jacques was old enough to get his first wood.
She just shrugged when the attention turned her way, and brushed off the judgement pounding her with guilt that would never guilt her into a single sleepless night. It was Trano she cared about. Second on the list of cares was the identity of the person that took a shot at her. A sniper of that quality should have been able to hit Reed between the eyes from an easy thousand meters. They would have had a spotter on team, too. Taking out a worthless corporal was a waste of a bullet, in her opinion, especially when there were officers - and Jacques - in easy sights. The latter stood out like a sore thumb. Trano's headgear probably helped him blend in, but his pale white ass was easy enough to spot by trained eyes. He should have been dead ten minutes before the cavalry even arrived.
So the shot was meant to incite rioting, and send Reed a message at the same time.
Message received.
She stalked to Trano and pulled him aside. She pat him down and checked him out for hidden, shock induced insensitivity to injuries. He was fine, she quickly concluded, and was ready to climb in the getaway vehicles.
***
The cars pulled up beneath a shaded drive, and from the sides emerged Reed and Trano, and whichever of Jacques men deemed worthy to escort them indoors. She was still smeared with dust and grit, but Reed cut through the lobby without concern for the strange looks they passed. Trano, on the other hand, was almost swarmed by other members of the press, and it took far too long to get to the elevator than she preferred.
She glanced at her watch at one point and counted down the hours until the Ascendancy's arrival. Things were only likely to get worse between now and then.