Effugium

Blink

I'm alive

A soft breath exited my mouth. The sensation of a slight tightness on my wrists was the first thing I felt. The sound of a helicopter blade whirling was the first thing I heard.

Shit...the fucking shadows have me...I...I need to focus. The tranquilizer tolerance worked, I just need to...goddamn it focus. You've come too far to die now.

I opened my eyes just a smidgen, every muscle in my face was weak, droopy. Even weakened by my years of self dosing, the drug was still a powerful beast. Handcuffs were on each of my wrists, the material bulking up my arm numbing the feeling of them. A full body seat belt covered me, presumably to stop me from falling over while unconscious.

Just a few rows down, lie my suitcase. Thank fucking god. It's still here. Looks like they haven't tried to open it, fuckers would have melted their faces off.

The room I was in reeked of oxidized metal, a slightly metallic taste hung in the air, tickling my tongue. Two large men sat on a long open red seat nearby, each decked out in military uniform. Their gear sat nearby, leaving them unarmed in plain uniform. The ringing in my ears held strong, but I could faintly make out what they were saying. Something about someone named 'Dancing Shadow'. The back section of the room was modified, an extra doored off area was clearly visible.

Ok...I'm in the main room of a...Chinook? Probably in transport to some black site to be tortured and experimented on with their new gas tech. Fucking fascists...I was so close...I just needed more time...

...Nikolai...I'm sorry...

No.

No it isn't ending like this.

Rustle

I still have my false arms. This isn't over. Remember the plan.

Rustling and jittering my arm every slightly, I could feel the false skin, the false wrist, start to partially detach itself.

Gotta be slow, steady, can't have those two tangos spotting me or I'm fucked...although if I take too long they'll redose me...shit...

"Who does she work for anyway, FBI? CIA?" One of the two soldiers asked, the other one setting out a scoff in return.

That's right, keep talking you fucking idiots. The top part of the false skin near my elbow detached, revealing my thinner arm underneath.

"Not sure, but I wouldn't ask if I were you. Heard rumors that's why Private Biscuit went missing, kept asking too many questions and it bit him in the ass."

The other solider laughed. "I'd like to bit her in the ass, fine piece of meat she is."

She's been a real pain in my ass she has. I thought to myself, as the false arm slid mostly off, the loose covering now wedged in my left cuff.

I eyed the two men, eyes still partially closed.

"Word is her body counts in the thousands, and the Russians want her dead." The taller one continued, before turning around to fiddle with his bag.

Come on, get distracted.

"Shit I'm out of smokes, you got any Vasquez?" He spoke, prompting a chuckle from his friend. "Hehe, you always seem to say that right after I buy mine, ya moocher." his friend spoke with a degree of informality, turning towards his own bag to dig around for a smoke. "Think I might be out too."

"Bullshit, let me see." The taller one replied back, looking into the bag for himself.

Now. I leaned as far as the seat straps would allow, biting the loose false arm and jerking it upwards. The hairs on my arm stood up, the first real fresh air they had felt in hours. My left arm was now noticeably thinner, a gap of over 3 inches had been created in the cuffs. Almost free.

"Knew you had one you cheeky fucker." The taller man, who I now knew was named Vasquez, spoke with a smug laugh, lighting a cigar in his mouth. Seizing the moment, I did what I knew what to be done.

Three. Two. One. BREATH BREATH BREATH.

I broke my left hand. Intentionally, of course. With a sharp pull, the right side of my left hand broke, producing a cracking sound as my pinkie bent at a unnatural angle. But, it made my hand thing enough to...

Yes, there we go.

With barely a sound, my left hand slipped free of it's cuff. Quickly darting my eyes back, I looked back to the two soldiers, every fiber of hope in my body praying they hadn't noticed.

"You know" he took a puff of his cigar, taking a moment to cough slightly. "I've heard from a friend of mine that red heads naturally have bigger asses."

"Bullshit."

"No Ramirez, I swear. Something about them redhead girls, I tell you."

Irish asses are no bigger. I thought to myself, thankful. With a subtle hand gesture, I grabbed a small piece of metal on the seating, just the right size for the lock. Now I just need them to open the cockpit door, however long that takes. Once I got my second hand free and dropped the cuffs, there would be no turning back.

A wave of, pleasure, almost, started to fill me. Am I actually going to get out of this? Alive? And sane?

"Let me tell you something, I was in Afganistan once, met this fine translator woman. Nicest ass you ever seen, I swear it was a foot out. Redhead."

"Yeah, I mean..." Ramirez stuttered a bit, rubbing the back of his uniform. "I could say the same thing about Brazilian woman, you're just-"

Vasquez was not diswayed "I could give you a MILLION examples, every time I've seen a red head, I swear they-"

"Oh just shut up." Ramirez groaned, getting up from his seat. "I'm gonna ask the Captain how long til we get back to LA, I was hungover as shit during the meeting and I wanna see my kids."

Yes, yes.

"You're not the only one with a family Ramirez." Vasquez groaned, watching his friend walk to the door. "I haven't seen my family since Independence Day, we were supposed to be home yesterday, but some big shot needs us and next thing you know..."

Ramirez ignored him, walking to the front and pulling open the door to the cockpit. Apparently, my fears of it being locked were unfounded. Then again, this isn't exactly a crowded commercial flight prone to hijacking. Now, now I move. "Foley, when the hell are we getting home? My wife is probably fucking the mailman at this point and-"

CLACK

With just a few second of fiddling with the nail, the cuffs unlocked, clacking to the ground. Slamming my freed hands into the strap buckle as fast as I could, they all released. I was free.

Pump Pump. Pump Pump. Pump Pump.

My heart raced, time seemed to slow as adrenaline flooded my system, every ounce of weakness the lingering tranquilizer had left in me fading.

Within a second, I sprung up, dashing forward as fast as I could.

Vasquez didn't even have time to turn around before I struck him in the face, his unprepared body flopping to the ground. With a stomp, I ensured he wasn't getting back up.

The other one, Ramirez, turned around, a look of horror on his eyes. "SHIT!" he shouted, reaching for his pockets. Unfortunately, he had taken his bulky gear off and had no weapon on him.

Idiot. I thought to myself, slamming his head into the wall with a deafening CRUNCH, the all to familiar smell of blood filling my nostrils.

"What the hell's going on?" The pilot asked, partially obscured by the constant buzzing of the rotor blades. Just have to breath.

"RAAAW!" Charging forward with all my might, letting out a mighty growl as sweat poured down my face, I gave a great punch, his entire body being forced backwards. As he attempted to get up, I grabbed him by the neck, slamming his head into the panel again, and again, and again.

Die you fucking pigs. I didn't come this far to be a lab rat. I didn't kill all these innocent people for nothing.

Tossing the now very much unconscious Foley to the side and slamming the cockpit door shut behind me, I gripped the controls. Ok, ok, it's a Chinook, I took a few classes on these back when I founded the company, I've been in one, I've flown an R-22 before...shit why didn't I study more on this?

Taking note of my location, I attempted to figure out where I was. Just below us was a thick forest, dotted with various small hills. To the east, desert, mostly flat mind the occasional patch of green farmland or blue solar fields. To the west, more hills, more forest. And to the north, a set of much taller mountains, with a small, partially obscured pass near the middle.

Ok. I'm over the Angeles National Forest, probably somewhere near Pyramid Lake. I'm moving west-northwest towards the Sierra Nevadas, probably towards a site in the desert somewhere. Ok...If I can ditch in the forest, I can probably lose them for long enough to be picked up by Vlad...then...I guess I can...

"What the hell are those idiots doing up there?" A faint voice asked, sounding as if It was behind a few walls, but still just audible.

Her. It's her. The agent. Shit shit shit, no time to plan, I've got to go down, NOW!

Pushing the yolk down hard, the entire helicopter leaned forward. A sudden wave of intense G force hit me, dizziness flooding my body as the tree line grew closer.

"SHIT!" I heard that same voice, louder, yet somehow more distant then before, as if on another plain of existence far away. G force should keep her from getting up here. Breath, breath, don't fucking pass out, I need to be awake to pull up.

The G force's easing a bit as our descent rate steadied, I watched, every muscle in my body tensed, as the trees below grew closer, closer, closer-

"NOW!" I shouted out loud, violently jerking the helicopter upward just before we hit the ground, darkness overtaking my vision as a huge wave of G force hit me.

Blink

Still alive.

Looking around once again, I found, to my pleasure, that the plan had worked. The front end of the helicopter was almost entirely intact, while the rear end had detached and seemed to be far more damaged, partially detached from the front.

Stumbling out of the cockpit, I was delighted to discover my bones were intact. Luck of the Irish it seems, let's hope that red head doesn't wake up any time soon.

My suitcase. Where is my...ah...there we go.

Just a few feet outside of the fuselage, lay my precious suitcase. Hardly a scratch on ya Betsy.

Taking a long, deep breath, I laughed. I fucking did it. The wonderful feeling of life, freedom, filled my soul for just a moment.

Then, just as soon as it started, it ended, and I started walking. Time was short. Not long until the fucking Shadow Feds swarm this forest.

Walking through the forest, my skin twitched as I moved, a cold breeze of mountain hair moving through the area, trying to focus my mind on my goal.
I'll have to lay low in the old caves until I can make it to a phone, get Vlad, disguise myself, find another lab to......

"God, what I would kill for a nice cold bottle of absinthe right about now."

Fin