A/N - First time writing for these two. Brief mention of Reese/Finch but its pretty much a Shoot fic. Also mention of Carter and maybe other characters in the future chapters. Its not going to be a long one, three or four chapters maybe. Let me know what you think.
Runner; noun: an illegal underground courier who operates independently from the city's legal security and surveillance measures. Each Runner is taught the discipline of parkour, in which participants use the urban and rural areas to move from point A to point B as fast and efficiently as possible. Runners are also trained in a variety of street martial arts to compliment their parkour skills, should escape not be an option. Some are also knowledgeable in firearms and weapons use, as well as various hacking techniques.
Runners are described as the threat to the well working system. Parasites that feed on the hard working. You laugh every time. Your society is anything but well working. Hasn't been that way for decades now. Not that you care, your parents did. They made sure you remember.
You stretch your limbs like a newly awoken cat, then you maneuver yourself though your small apartment, you stop when your feet feels the cold tiles beneath them. You set your coffee machine and your eyes stares outside, your fingers run over the glass barrier that is supposed to keep you safe. You laugh again.
You don't want safety. You don't need it.
You want to run. And run. And run. And run. Maybe shoot someone in the process, maybe call Tomas for a nice release. But other than that, you just want to run. You want to vent your adrenaline and you want to fall asleep without anything haunting your dreams. You want to fall asleep feeling completely drained, completely hopeless with that familiar aching burn in your lungs. Its the only time you can rest.
Your eyes focus on the coffee machine and you decide what to do next. With a slight yawn, you make your way to the bathroom. The oversized t-shirt falls down easily, your hands set the right temperature and you step inside, skin aching at the burning contact. Hot water burns your skin but you do not flinch. Strangely, you enjoy the sensation. You enjoy the steamy water burning away your scars, your old wounds. You feel fresh. Alive.
Your tattoos itches from time to time and at that moment you want nothing more than to cut your own skin, throw it away. They're fairly new, one on your right arm, a cryptic symbol, the other on your neck, a sign of freedom. The last one found its home on your back, a memento of something you never even knew.
Steamy water burns you. You feel as if the past is washed away. Flame purifies. Fire gives life to something greater. The aching burn you feel in your lungs every day, it gives you meaning. You might not fight the good fight, but at least you are free. You feel enchanted and free.
Its all you want. Your freedom and the flames. No more memories of your non-existent childhood. No more words of guilt and sadness. You do not want these memories anymore. Memories that are not even your own.
You do not feel it. You do not care for it. You want your lungs to burn and you want to forget.
You want the flame to embrace you fully.
Its over as quickly as it started. Soon you feel empty and hungry. You take a clean shirt and you hope your coffee is hot and ready.
Your meal is simple. As much as you enjoy a good juicy steak now and then, you do not have time anymore. Coffee burns its way down your throat and you let out a pleased sigh. Its a hug you need and crave every morning.
"They died for a lost cause. You run for your own."
You remember Finch's words as you finish your meal. Funny, you think. You don't even have a cause. You just enjoy the thrill. You enjoy the burning in your lungs as you run. You couldn't care less. You don't need a cause. You have your flames. Your parents might have been hopeless heroes but you are you. You are nothing but a simple courier, half time not even knowing what you carry.
You do not care. You have a destination, you have a limit and you simply run. You are no fighter.
You run. You are not them. You are not your parents.
You close your eyes, your muscles relax. Caffeine already running through your veins, it burned your throat well. Your eyes glance back lazily, you notice your gear ready, sitting at the edge of your bed. Waiting. Waiting for you to take up your role, waiting for you to start running. In the end of the day, its being tossed away, sweaty, smelling of gun powder, ashes and blood.
In the morning however, all clean and ready, it begs for another ride, another go. You gladly give it what it craves.
Your color scheme is quite simple. Black, black and more black. Occasional white can help too, but your gloves and your running shoes are red, almost absurdly so. Your black tank top goes well with everything and you do not bother to look fashionable. It serves its purpose and you have to admit, you look good.
You just want to be enveloped with flames again.
Your phone wakes you up from your little trance, your mind snaps back and you realize who exactly is calling. You tap your earpiece that you set right after the shower, smiling as you hear the old, tired voice.
"What's up, Finch ?"
You make your way downtown, hood over your head, dodging the very well known surveillance system that protects this city. Or, making your work a bit more harder. You know it well, its creator is your boss now. You don't question his motives. You know that sometimes It can help too.
You don't mind. You don't care.
You take the elevator to the upper levels, a well known ad shines through the news flash on the elevator panel. They warn the citizens, warn them from you. As if you're the major threat to this world. The ad shines those familiar warnings.
-A fondness for the color red
-Calluses on the palm, knuckle and fingertips
-Telltale scuff marks on their clothes
-Unexplained scrapes, bruises or broken bones
-Unreliable or unexplained absences from work or school
In case of the following, alert the authorities. Your family might be in danger. This group is to be disband and shot on sight. Protect your family.
And it goes on and on and on, framing your group of every wrong in this World. The elevator doors buzz open and you are glad to leave.
Your destination is not that far, your bag is not as heavy as usually and Finch is less grumpier than usual. Reese's smug face meets yours as he returns from his assignment, placing a small bag right in front of Finch. There's muffled whispers and you have a pretty idea what's going on. Shaking your head, both of your earpieces roars with life, you set your playlist and walk away. You glance back one more time and what you see is disgustingly sweet. You don't comment. You want to run already.
Your day starts relatively well.
You're already on the roof when John's deep voice echoes through your ear, muffling the music you set. "How's the newest addition ?" he asks and you immediately know what he means. Your fingers involuntary traces a path down your neck and you smile. Reese sure is proud of himself, you think. He has every right to be proud though, he did a good job. However you remember the question, so you answer.
"Itches." is your simple reply and you can hear a slight laughter on the other line. You roll your eyes and your legs sets you free. You're finally running and when you take your first jump, when you land and roll on the other roof, you cut the line short. You just want your music, your ragged breath and the fire in your lungs as your companions.
Your destination is not far. After like five minutes of constant running, mid-jumping, vaulting and sliding, you see another big gap between you and your target. You do not hesitate. You go as fast as your tireless legs let you, you jump from one edge to the other for a little boost, your hands working hard as you swing from one pole to the other, and then you let go, you jump and it feels like you are flying. You land safely and you continue one, a small shortcut to raise your adrenaline level a bit, the ringing bass in your ears assisting quite well.
You arrive shortly after, you do not bother yourself on slowing down. You take your backpack down and you toss it right into its rightful place. You continue and you crawl your way down a few levels before Finch's raspy voice interrupts your music again.
"Miss Shaw, the client says thank you." he says and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. You do not care, but you reply. "Anything close enough ?" you ask and he's already giving you new set of numbers. "Miss Carter will meet you there." he says and you know she'll be carrying your package as well.
You're pleased to realize that you're going in the right direction already. "Slept well ?" Finch asks and this time you really do roll your eyes. He's way too caring for your taste but, somehow, you managed to not kill anyone yet. As your boss, he's not that bad.
You see your opportunity to ask. "Not as much as you did I bet." you say a little breathlessly as you jump over a create. There's a muffled laughter and you assume that John hasn't left yet. Your smirk widens as you hear Finch's ragged breath and an attempt to say something which only ends up being a stuttered What ?
"I don't know Finch, how's your lover boy taking care of you ?" you ask with a huge grin as you land on the next platform, sliding a little. You do not expect an answer and you are ready to cut the line again but then your line of thoughts is interrupted by this anomaly of some sorts. You see this figure running right in front of you, somehow you assume its a she, moving elegantly like she was born with wings and movements of a panther. She slides underneath the pipes with grace and you nearly trip over your own legs.
You look around you for any confirmation on your whereabouts. Your eyes catch the small glimpse of the street name. Thankfully you descended enough to see it. "Marble 51, Finch. Who am I seeing ?" you ask your operator and he hums in surprise. You can hear his fingers working on his keyboard and you wonder, who exactly is it ? Your organisation is quite small, you know mostly everyone.
You'd remember legs like those for sure.
"Miss Shaw ? Do you hear me ?" he asks and you hum in approval. You wonder if she already noticed you backtracking her because you feel the speed raising up. Its nothing you can't handle but you realize you're running in a slight different angle now, away from your destination. You let it be for now. You want to know who this is. "So I don't have any good news for you. Database showed nothing. No relevant data, I have no idea who she might be." the answer comes and you guessed as much. You notice her slowing down, looking around her but not behind her. You can see her talking to someone and you realize that maybe Finch could tap the conversation.
"Already working on it." comes a few seconds later and you slow down as well, keeping yourself behind boxes and generators, your eyes fixated at the long legged brunette. There's buzzing in your earpiece and you shut down your still running music. You concentrate on her only.
"When ?" asks the feminine voice, a little out of breath, tiredness evident. You walk slowly as she stops entirely, she stares in the distance and smiles. She puts something on the generator next to her but you cannot really see what. Looks like a package.
ETA, one minute, twenty six seconds. Target armed. Proceed with caution. You hear and you are taken back by the cold, electric voice. You know computers are not to be trusted, that's why you rather memorized the entire layout of your city. You do not need their help. Finch always laughs when you mention this.
You hear her laugh, she stretches her limbs, sets her running shoes right. "I always do." you hear her say as she rests her back against the generator, her hands touching as well.
Then the weird electronic voice speaks again. Alert. Relevant data compromised. Asset number SS-seventeen in close distance. It says and you are confused when you see a big smile appearing on the woman's evidently tired features. She looks your way and she catches you sneaking up on her, her back leaving the generator be, she now faces you fully, shaking her head.
"She's not a threat though is she ?" she asks with a voice filled with emotions you can't really recognize. You realize that, maybe, she's not asking her operator. You come closer when she crouches, you know she's no threat to you.
Possible source of assistance.
You walk to the edge and she does as well. The gap between two buildings is the only barrier between you and this mysterious beauty. "Sameen Shaw. I'm a fan." she says with a smile and you are quite literally taken back. You know your reputation in this city but its still strange to you.
"Who are you ?" you ask coldly and she tilts her head. She looks up and down, to the left and to the right, as if measuring the distance between you two. You wait for an answer and its like she feels your restlessness. "Same as you." she points at her tattoos, your eyes notice the faint colour of red on her clothes. "Your database showed nothing, right ?" she ask and you simply shake your head, your eyes are fixated on her tired features.
You have to admit, she's gorgeous. Her wild brown locks are tamed in a ponytail, threaten to set themselves free in any second now. You notice her piercing blue eyes, even from this distance. Your heart beats a lot faster than usual and you feel the familiar burn in your chest and you do not understand. Frankly, you don't want to.
You don't want to know. You don't want to understand. You want to run away, you want this burning to be your choice. Not because she looks at you. You want to walk away but your body forces you to stay.
Your mind screams but your body falls silent to its orders.
Her delicate fingers tap something on her phone and you notice the two live-feed cameras near you buzz and shut down.
Who is she ?
"Figures." she says with a smile, shoving her phone back into her pocket. She tilts her head again and you assume she's receiving information. You also assume she cut your access to her com as well. She doesn't say anything though and you can't bring yourself either. She nods and you assume she's done talking to her friend.
"There's some nasty people after me and I know you have work elsewhere. Your friend is already waiting. So how about we part ways now ?" she says with a smile, already showing you her back as she readies herself for a quick sprint. "Wait.." you call but its too late. She's already on the other roof, way too far away from you. Strangely, you do not like it.
You look at your destination, opposite of the path the other Runner chose and you sigh deeply.
"Finch, call Carter off." you say as you back away, gaining some speed before you jump. Your operator is silent and you wonder what's going on. He always has a lecture ready for you whenever you chose to do things your way. Your eyes land upon the package that the previous Runner placed quite delicately.
Curiosity gets the better of you and you open it, revealing a small compact handgun. "Oh dear." Finch says and you think its because of the gun but his voice reeks of worry. "What ?" you ask as you examine the handgun, making sure its loaded. Its magazine is full. "Icarus seekers. Two coming from the sides." he stops, typing something and your eyes immediately examines your surrounding.
The new police force, specially trained against your kind. You hate them all, but they add the thrill. From time to time, you enjoy a good pursuit.
You hear a soft landing behind you and a slight gasp for air and you smirk, click the safety off and shoots one of them before Finch has time to even warn you. "Not quite sure if they're after you or-" he starts but the gunshot in the distance answers for him.
"They're after her." you say with anger filling your voice as you holster the gun behind your belt and you start running. Thankfully, its not heavy at all. You need all the speed you can get, hearing more and more gunshots in the way the other Runner went.
A/N - Everyone is OOC i know. Part 2 should be uploaded in a few days so be patient. Grammar wont be perfect because English isn't my native language. Hopefully you enjoyed, thanks for reading.