A/N: Some random X5 escapee drabble I wrote at least a year ago. Two chapters that can actually stand on their own. Part of a possible series of one or two chapters stories about the original X5 escapees. Not related to Toy Soldiers-verse in the least.
Chapter 1
"Shit, shit, shit, Shit!" Skidding around a corner, Jondy paused just long enough to regain her balance before taking off at a dead run.
They just had to pick today, of all days, to get lucky.
Course, Lydecker would say luck had nothing to do with it. Same as Zack.
If Zack were here, he'd say she'd gotten sloppy, gotten careless. That she'd forgotten too much of her training if she let some Ordinary guards trap her in some back alley outside of Albuquerque.
If Zack were here, she'd be in a lot less trouble. Two X5's were a hell of a lot harder to take down than one.
Course, Jondy had no intention of making it easy.
"Alright, alright. Think, Jay, think." Turning into another alley, she spotted an alcove that could provide her with cover while she took a few minutes to regroup.
Well, she thought, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm when really she was about ready to hyperventilate.
This is a fine kettle of fish. The first time she'd heard that phrase, she'd been a confused nine year old, newly escaped from Manticore, eating a slice of pie a nice trucker had bought for her.
Him and his companions had found her in the back of his rig. She'd calculated the odds against her favor in an all out fight and had allowed her capture. However, instead of torturing her for information, or calling Lydecker and a TAC Team, they'd taken her inside a nearby mess hall and fed her pie.
His name had been Tony. Jondy had lived with him and his family for five months while she acclimated herself to this strange new world.
She'd left, knowing that it wasn't safe, but she carried those fond memories with her always.
"God, I wish I could make memories come alive, cause Tony would so be a welcome presence right about now." Her voice was quiet, barely registering in this busy city, but any noise could give her away.
Stupid, she chastised herself, pressing further back against the door behind her, frantically looking right, then left.
She could feel them, even if she couldn't see them. Her instincts were screaming Danger!
Too long. She'd been standing in one spot for too fucking long. It wasn't safe.
Pushing away from the wall, she blurred out of the alley to her next point of cover, a rusted out van, circa the early 1960's.
Ducking down behind the van, she checked her breathing again.
She'd hated this game back at Manticore. She'd never been good at it, not like Max and Ben. She always let fear get the best of her.
She couldn't afford to let fear beat her now.
Two separate TAC Teams rounded the corner, emerging from the alley she'd just vacated.
Good timing.
She took count, making note of their weapons, their armor.
And me without a gun.
It was a dumb, stupid move that was going to get her killed one of these days.
But not today.
One TAC broke away from the others, venturing too near to her hiding place. Ducking lower, til she was belly to the ground, she crawled under the body of the van until she could see his feet.
She had seconds, literally, to do what needed to be done.
Digging her fingers into the ground, she hauled herself, literally by her fingertips, out from under the van, biting her lip bloody to keep from making a sound.
Her upper body emerged and she curled back to pull her legs out, gently, carefully placing them on the ground, securing her balance.
Rising to her feet, she reached forward in a lightening fast grip and, yanking the TAC backwards, snapped his neck.
Picking up the body, she slipped back around the van, quickly an efficiently removing his armor and yanking it on over her clothes.
It was too big, and if any of the other TAC's looked too closely, they'd know something was up, but they weren't here to stare at each other.
They were looking for her.
She was going to make damned sure they didn't find her.
Hoisting the dead man's weapons, a modified M16 assault rifle, two pistols, an M-9 and a Sig Sauer, his personal piece, she carefully checked to make sure everything was in place before slipping the com unit in her ear and taking her place at the tail end of the squad.
[TAC Team Alpha, report, over.]
[Negative, Command. I repeat, Negative. We have not located the subject, over]
[Affirmative, Alpha. Move to Checkpoint 7, over.]
[Understood. Alpha out.]
Making this easy on her, how nice of them.
Jondy kept her breathing even as Alpha Team Leader took point, breaking into a light jog the rest of them following.
Like little duckies, following their mama.
It was about half a click to Checkpoint 7, and Jondy could hear the rest of Alpha Team breathing heavy.
Ordinaries, she thought with derision. Normally she was fond of them, hell, she even envied them. But the way they hunted her, like an animal that needed to be brought to heel, she was wishing a whole hell of a lot worse than heavy breathing on their asses.
Checkpoint 7 was a mid point in the perimeter.
Halfway there.
"Michaels, Folsen, cover the outer perimeter. Jacobs, Coulter, head back and take up positions halfway between here and Checkpoint 8. Connors, Williams, you're with me on the inner perimeter. Move!"
Jondy stayed where she was, waiting for the rest of the team to break ranks so she could figure out which one she was supposed to be, when someone jostled her from behind.
"Come on, Folsen," Michaels, it had to be Michaels, jostled her again, pushing her past the checkpoint.
Outer perimeter put them past the halfway point, in visual range of the inner perimeter of Checkpoint 8.
Now to get past it.
Hedging her bets, Jondy was pretty sure they were going to discover the body in a matter of minutes, so she had seconds to create a plan and implement it.
How about takeout? Maybe if I volunteer for a food run…
Snap out of it!
Taking a couple of steps to the side, she watched her partner and the two Checkpoint 8 guards. When none of them made any move to stop her, she took a few more, moving stealthily into the shadows until she was well outside of their visual range.
The steady hum of an approaching helicopter had her looking up directly into the searchlight of a MH-60 Blackhawk helicopter.
[You've moved outside your position, Alpha 7. Return to your post, over]
Like hell.
Sprinting, she could hear frantic yelling over her com unit, but her heartbeat was once again filling her ears.
What's the first rule?
The first, and only, rule, according to the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and to any Manticore soldier worth their salt, was Don't Panic.
Her breathing steadied, her pulse lowering from hyperventilating levels to slightly elevated.
The voices in her ear went from a meaningless jumble, to tactically significant information.
[…heading West. I repeat, subject is dressed in a TAC suit, heading West. Subject is armed, over.]
[Confirmed. Charlie Team is moving to intercept from the East, over.]
[Confirmed. Delta moving in from the South, over. Do we have subject identification, over]
[Negative. Complete information is as follows: female, mid teens, 14 to 17. Possible targets: 452, 210, 701, 386. TI-17 is processing information as we speak.]
[Tell the walking talking Think Tank to factor this in: we've found Folsen. I repeat, we found Folsen. Dead, approximately fifteen minutes, over]
[Affirmative. Patching information through now.]
What the hell is a 'walking talking' Think Tank?
Irrelevant. Keep running.
Ducking again to avoid the search light, she threw herself sideways into an abandoned parking garage to buy some time.
The tactical armor was making her skin crawl and she wanted to take it off so bad, she had to literally lean against her hands to stop herself. It may be uncomfortable, both physically and mentally, but it was the best advantage she had so far.
[All teams, this is Command. Information processed, results are as follows: possible targets are 386 and 701.]
WTF?
She may have been outside of Manticore a while, but even she couldn't forget the basics from that place, the primary one being her own damned barcode.
And last she checked, the twelve digit serial that had defined her life from birth didn't end with 386 or 701.
So why the hell did they think she was either Vada or Syl?
Later. She'd wonder about all this later. Right now, she had bigger things to consider.
The suit had to go.
Shrugging out of the armor, she breathed an audible sigh of relief as the cool night air once more caressed her skin.
Winter in Albuquerque was a nice even sixty degrees Fahrenheit, warm enough that a jacket really wasn't necessary, but her bright red top stood out like blood on an albino.
Picking up the jacket from the discarded pile of armor, she shrugged into it, packing up the rest of the stuff and shoving it under some loose debris. The guns, she kept.
The M16 slung easily over her chest with a quick adjustment of the strap. Slinging it on under the jacket, she shoved the Sig Sauer in the back of her low slung boot cut jeans, and tightened her grip on the M-9. Slipping the com unit in her ear, she breathed out.
Moving out of her hiding spot, she skirted through a city of broken cars, cardboard boxes, and homeless bums.
She had to get out of this perimeter. The longer she was trapped inside, the more organized the enemy could become. And a more organized enemy meant her chances of a successful outcome decreased greatly.
Already, a good half an hour had gone by since the first Manticore Humvee had come squealing to a stop outside the apartment she'd been squatting in.
Nearest she could figure, somebody had gotten a gander at her barcode, somebody who knew Manticore, or had some dealings with a proxy company Manticore owned and operated.
She needed to get rid of the damned barcode. She'd perfected the art of blending in with her surroundings, but that damned barcode stood out like a sore thumb, marking her, branding her.
Property, not Person. Thing, not Human.
Fuck 'em.
Rounding a corner, she ducked down just as a TAC Team went rushing past.
Too close.
Focus, Jondy.
Continuing towards where the TAC Team had come from, she reached a chain link fence running parallel to the street.
Twenty-feet, chain link.
No barbed wire, she thought with dark humor. Beat Manticore fences.
It was a tight fit though. She wasn't going to have much luck with a simple up and over.
Duck and roll it is.
Moving back until she was pressed against the wall, she breathed shallowly, listening for approaching footsteps, monitoring the comms, and calculating how much force she needed to put into her jump and when, exactly, she needed to duck and roll.
Footsteps were running towards her, boots, combat boots, slapping the ground in a steady rhythm.
Time to go.
Three steps forward, pushing herself off from the wall with force to give her momentum. She bent her knees, balanced on the balls of her feet, and pushed up.
[Contact! Bravo Team has contact!]
More chatter, but Jondy was too busy to take immediate notice.
Curling her body up, she rolled, head over heels, the ground rushing to meet her.
She landed on her feet, bending her knees to absorb the impact.
[Holy fucking shit! She jumped the fence! Did you see that?! Did you fucking see that?!!]
[Don't lose her, Bravo!]
"Don't move!" Jondy froze, turning slowly to find herself caught in the sight of six assault rifles, pointed at her through the fence.
And standing at the front, the bane of her existence.
Colonel Donald Michael Lydecker. Father figure, God-head. He gave them life and he took it just as easily, like they were nothing.
"Which one are you? Vada, Syl?"
Jondy stared into his eyes, cold blue abyss, and smiled.
"Fucking shit!!!"
Jondy didn't think, didn't stop. Gun up, finger on the trigger.
Double tap the leader, moving to the side.
Shock at the arc of exploding gray matter had them hesitating, eyes wide with shock.
She squeezed off two more shots as she blurred away.
Shouting in her ear, shouting behind her, and the steady sound of her tennis shoes hitting the pavement.
She emerged from the alley into open air, no TAC teams in sight.
Hotwiring a bike and ditching the guns, she hauled ass out of Albuquerque and headed North.
A/N: What's the sound of one hand hitting you upside the head? I have no idea, but if you leave a review...