Author: Chippewa Livingston
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: By the book.
My pistol tracked the man all the way to the ground. I was trained to make sure that I finish the job, always. Two shots had done this particular job.
I scanned the room. Lucid was getting up off the inert (but still breathing) body of the thief who carried in the Glock that I was holding. The apparent leader was leaking blood, and his shiny pistol was a safe distance away, on the floor. The masked man next to Roxanne was also on the floor. I'm not sure if he was still breathing. Training was keeping me on track, for the moment. The next question to ask was "Are there any more hostiles in the area?" followed by "What is the route of escape?"
The door into the dining room was now blocked by two large customers. They sized up the situation. One turned to speak to someone behind him. "Call the police, Fred."
I wasn't listening any more. She was standing in front the steel door of one of the refrigerators, with her arms wrapped around herself and her eyes focused somewhere in the distance. She was very good at acting. Maybe she had decided that gunfire would panic 'Roxanne.'
Trouble was, she had me fooled. I wanted to pick her up, and carry her away to someplace safe. (I didn't really have a good idea where that would be for a couple of runaway transgenics.) I dropped the pistol, and was across the kitchen before I'd really thought things out.
The other problem was, I didn't always know how she would react to physical contact. The last time I really startled her, she'd broken bones. Nobody ever called me stupid twice. I was just as careful with human weapons as I was with guns.
"Elle," I whispered. I dragged a fingertip down her arm, and expected more violence. "Talk to me."
Her eyes focused on me, and she shook herself. "No names. We're not in a secure area."
"Are we ever? Are you okay?" I couldn't make myself get louder than a whisper.
"Yeah, fine." I'd seen her look less rattled after waking up from screaming nightmares. The sound of sirens from the street wasn't helping.
"Are you going to say that so I'll believe it?"
Red and blue lights flickered in from the door, followed by two police officers and assorted hardware. We put our hands up, just to make sure there was no confusion.
Lucid screamed "You aren't taking me home!" She crouched to reach for her sweater, but stood up when one of the shot guns swung towards her.
Two more officers, male and female, entered from the dining room. The older, rounder one took charge. "He waits in the car," he said, pointing at me. "Fran, get a statement from the waitresses."
So, I got an armed escort to the back seat of a locked squad car. No handcuffs, no Miranda rights. I could hear my heartbeat echoing off the interior.
I could see in to the kitchen through the open back door. The female officer was asking lots of questions. Mitzi did lots of hand-waving. 'Roxanne' answered in short sentences, and kept making nervous glances in my direction.
A police van showed up a few minutes later, and the three would-be robbers got carried by. Then, the van went away.
At some point, the last of the adrenaline from the gunfight had worn off, and I got to watch my hands shake. I tried to make myself relax. "Visualize the proper cleaning procedure for an AR-15," I ordered myself.
It was a nice try, but I couldn't take my eyes off the door.
The car door opened, and I turned to see the glint of a badge and light reflecting on a silver-gray brush cut. I read "Fitzkowski" off his jacket as he settled himself into the seat next to me.
"You know, when I first joined the force, we would have hauled you in. You'd wait in jail until Monday morning, when the judge would try and figure out whether or not you were going to be charged with anything." He sighed.
"I'm in trouble, right?" I didn't really know why I was asking. I could imagine Lydecker chewing me out . According to Manticore standards, the first shot should have been mine. Except, I shouldn't have fired at all, as far as the law and the real world were concerned.
"It's not that simple, kid. We know those guys, and you saved the taxpayers some money. We are going to be really happy to have two of them behind bars, and no one is going to miss the other."
"He's dead."
"Exactly."
"I shot him."
"You also kept him from shooting any of the ladies." His expression had turned sympathetic, for a moment.
I kept quiet. 'Roxie' was alive. They could do whatever they wanted with me, as long as she got away.
"But, the real reason we can't touch you is the other one," he continued.
"Lucid? What is going to happen to her?" Not that I really cared, but having the subject off me was a nice change.
"You mean Miss Lucy Themb. Her father is the chief of police." Fitzkowski snorted.
"Oh."
"You are going to take your young lady home. I get to escort Lucy back to her family." He winced. "Everyone else will help Mitzi herd the customers out and lock up."
"Thank you, sir."
"I don't want to see you mixed up in this sort of thing again, young man." He pulled something out of his pocket, and pushed a button. The door on my side of the car unlocked.
"Trust me, you won't!" I climbed out of the car, and went inside to get 'Roxanne.'
She was waiting for me, just inside the kitchen door. She looked pale against the green splotches of her coat, but her eyes were tracking me. I decided that I could make myself believe she was okay.
Author's note:
How does anyone come up with names that don't belong to anyone but don't sound hopelessly strange?
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: By the book.
My pistol tracked the man all the way to the ground. I was trained to make sure that I finish the job, always. Two shots had done this particular job.
I scanned the room. Lucid was getting up off the inert (but still breathing) body of the thief who carried in the Glock that I was holding. The apparent leader was leaking blood, and his shiny pistol was a safe distance away, on the floor. The masked man next to Roxanne was also on the floor. I'm not sure if he was still breathing. Training was keeping me on track, for the moment. The next question to ask was "Are there any more hostiles in the area?" followed by "What is the route of escape?"
The door into the dining room was now blocked by two large customers. They sized up the situation. One turned to speak to someone behind him. "Call the police, Fred."
I wasn't listening any more. She was standing in front the steel door of one of the refrigerators, with her arms wrapped around herself and her eyes focused somewhere in the distance. She was very good at acting. Maybe she had decided that gunfire would panic 'Roxanne.'
Trouble was, she had me fooled. I wanted to pick her up, and carry her away to someplace safe. (I didn't really have a good idea where that would be for a couple of runaway transgenics.) I dropped the pistol, and was across the kitchen before I'd really thought things out.
The other problem was, I didn't always know how she would react to physical contact. The last time I really startled her, she'd broken bones. Nobody ever called me stupid twice. I was just as careful with human weapons as I was with guns.
"Elle," I whispered. I dragged a fingertip down her arm, and expected more violence. "Talk to me."
Her eyes focused on me, and she shook herself. "No names. We're not in a secure area."
"Are we ever? Are you okay?" I couldn't make myself get louder than a whisper.
"Yeah, fine." I'd seen her look less rattled after waking up from screaming nightmares. The sound of sirens from the street wasn't helping.
"Are you going to say that so I'll believe it?"
Red and blue lights flickered in from the door, followed by two police officers and assorted hardware. We put our hands up, just to make sure there was no confusion.
Lucid screamed "You aren't taking me home!" She crouched to reach for her sweater, but stood up when one of the shot guns swung towards her.
Two more officers, male and female, entered from the dining room. The older, rounder one took charge. "He waits in the car," he said, pointing at me. "Fran, get a statement from the waitresses."
So, I got an armed escort to the back seat of a locked squad car. No handcuffs, no Miranda rights. I could hear my heartbeat echoing off the interior.
I could see in to the kitchen through the open back door. The female officer was asking lots of questions. Mitzi did lots of hand-waving. 'Roxanne' answered in short sentences, and kept making nervous glances in my direction.
A police van showed up a few minutes later, and the three would-be robbers got carried by. Then, the van went away.
At some point, the last of the adrenaline from the gunfight had worn off, and I got to watch my hands shake. I tried to make myself relax. "Visualize the proper cleaning procedure for an AR-15," I ordered myself.
It was a nice try, but I couldn't take my eyes off the door.
The car door opened, and I turned to see the glint of a badge and light reflecting on a silver-gray brush cut. I read "Fitzkowski" off his jacket as he settled himself into the seat next to me.
"You know, when I first joined the force, we would have hauled you in. You'd wait in jail until Monday morning, when the judge would try and figure out whether or not you were going to be charged with anything." He sighed.
"I'm in trouble, right?" I didn't really know why I was asking. I could imagine Lydecker chewing me out . According to Manticore standards, the first shot should have been mine. Except, I shouldn't have fired at all, as far as the law and the real world were concerned.
"It's not that simple, kid. We know those guys, and you saved the taxpayers some money. We are going to be really happy to have two of them behind bars, and no one is going to miss the other."
"He's dead."
"Exactly."
"I shot him."
"You also kept him from shooting any of the ladies." His expression had turned sympathetic, for a moment.
I kept quiet. 'Roxie' was alive. They could do whatever they wanted with me, as long as she got away.
"But, the real reason we can't touch you is the other one," he continued.
"Lucid? What is going to happen to her?" Not that I really cared, but having the subject off me was a nice change.
"You mean Miss Lucy Themb. Her father is the chief of police." Fitzkowski snorted.
"Oh."
"You are going to take your young lady home. I get to escort Lucy back to her family." He winced. "Everyone else will help Mitzi herd the customers out and lock up."
"Thank you, sir."
"I don't want to see you mixed up in this sort of thing again, young man." He pulled something out of his pocket, and pushed a button. The door on my side of the car unlocked.
"Trust me, you won't!" I climbed out of the car, and went inside to get 'Roxanne.'
She was waiting for me, just inside the kitchen door. She looked pale against the green splotches of her coat, but her eyes were tracking me. I decided that I could make myself believe she was okay.
Author's note:
How does anyone come up with names that don't belong to anyone but don't sound hopelessly strange?