Chapter 18
Escape and Pursuit
Angel and Mac entered the infirmary, both on their guard. They looked around carefully, and noted the dead body in the corner. Angel circled around the bed, where he found Faith. She could barely move. She couldn't talk. Angel hoisted her up in one arm, the other keeping a good grip on Betsy.
Mac checked the control module. "The rest of them are on the move," he told Angel. "It's not like they could sleep through the gunfire."
"Any ideas?" Angel asked.
"Can you get her through that Wolfram and Hart team in that condition?" Mac asked.
"I think I can handle that," Angel replied.
"All right," Mac said. "There's a clear path to the back door. The other team thinks that it's wired to blow, thanks to Cordelia, so they won't be watching it too closely. Head that way and get her out of here."
"What about you?" Angel asked.
"I've got other things to take care of," Mac said. "Good luck," he added.
"You too," Angel said, and then turned and carried Faith in the direction of the back door.
Mac checked the monitor. They were moving towards him, three man formation. He didn't care about them, but he couldn't have them coming up behind him, either. He looked around the room, his eyes settling on the oxygen tank.
He went to work quickly. He grabbed the tanks, the electrodes, and a few other components. In a few seconds they were a crude but effective bomb. He didn't have much time. He headed off towards Sheffield.
The three remaining commandos from Sheffield's team burst into the infirmary, carefully covering all the areas. Brody yelled to the others and pointed towards a note taped to the oxygen tank.
"Wired to blow. Run now. Mac." They all looked at the tank, and realized that they had only one choice. They turned and ran.
They had put enough crates between themselves and the bomb that they were uninjured when it went off. The entire side of the warehouse burst into flames, sending shrapnel out into the street. A swath of destruction separated Mac and Sheffield from the other three. They were in a no-win situation, so they decided to exercise the better part of valor. They activated their extraction plan.
* * *
Angel carried Faith through the warehouse, his senses peeled in every direction. He had to make sure that she was safe, and he still had a Wolfram and Hart strike team to wade through. He stopped at the back door and adjusted his burden. He took a deep breath and prepared to plunge through.
"Wait," Faith whispered, her voice strained with weariness.
He looked over at her. "Don't talk now," he said. "Let me get you somewhere safe." He kicked the back door open.
And the North half of the building exploded. Angel's head snapped around, seeing the wall of flame erupt back by the infirmary. "Good job, Mac," he muttered. He wanted to take advantage of the diversion. He gathered Faith up and headed out into the darkness.
* * *
Wesley, Cordelia, and Kate made their may down to the lobby of the Wolfram and Hart building. They encountered no other guards along the way. When they reached the lobby, they saw why.
Spike and Gunn sat on the hunk of a burnt out Hummer, playing 'Rock, Scissor, Paper.' Around them were countless guards, a mix of human and demon, all spread out and unconscious – or worse.
"Damn," Kate said.
"Oh my," Wesley supplied.
Gunn and Spike looked up from their game. "It's about time you showed up," Gunn said. "We were getting pretty bored down here."
"Yeah, well, if they hadn't made it by sunup," Spike supplied, "you would've been waiting all by yourself."
"Shall we?" Gunn said, and gestured towards the parking lot. The group of them headed out the door – or would have, had there been a door to do through. It would be more accurate to say that they clambered through the rubble.
Parked out in front of the building was the guard's cruiser. The two guards were still trapped inside, the twisted body of the Tologra warrior resting atop. Gunn stopped by and leaned in the broken driver's window. "Sorry you guys missed all the fun," he said. "Do you want we should call triple-A or something? I mean, you look uncomfortable."
"Screw you," the guard replied. But Gunn could tell that they were scared. They had seen what he and Spike had done to their fellows, and they wanted no part of it.
Wesley set Cordelia in the front seat of the truck and had Kate climb in beside her. He and Spike climbed in the back, and Gunn got in to drive.
"Where to?" Gunn asked.
"The hotel," Wesley replied. "But let's stop at Cordy's house first. Dennis will take of her." Cordelia did, in fact, have the most caring and solicitous roommate any of them had ever met. Unfortunately, he'd been dead for thirty years. Even if he hadn't, though, he never would've been anything more than a friend to Cordelia – he had terrible taste in clothes. But they knew they could rely on Ghost Dennis to see that she was taken care of.
"What's that?" Spike inquired of Wesley as they got on the road.
Wesley held up the wooden seat bottom with his four thousand year old N'Tau knife stuck in it. "Cordy's favorite hair ornament," he said.
* * *
Angel ran through the alleys at inhuman speed, carrying Faith cradled in his arms. The strike team was right behind him. He dodged around one corner, and then another. They were still hot on his trail. He skittered to a halt, and set Faith in a doorway. There was only one way to handle this.
The strike team came around the corner and one of them raised a fist. They came to halt. There were five of them. Four were armed, wearing standard combat gear. The fifth wore long brown robes and a hooded cowl. The creature turned and sniffed.
Angel dropped from four stories up. His landing was perfectly executed, right in front of the vampire tracker in the brown robes. It turned and hissed at him, the others bringing up their weapons. Angel, though, was already in motion. In one swift stroke Betsy sent the demons head flying off into one corner of the alley.
Angel smiled at the others as the body of the tracking demon crumpled. "Now, we can do this the hard way," he said, gesturing at the body. "Or you can turn around and run for your lives." He paused, giving them a moment to consider. They didn't move. "Why is it always the hard way with you people?" he asked. He didn't expect an answer.
* * *
MacKenzie kept low as he moved across the roof of the building. Sheffield had finally gotten wise and discarded his transmitter, but not before going to the roof. Mac knew that he had him cornered. Unfortunately, this was perfect territory for an ambush, and MacKenzie knew it.
He stalked carefully, keeping to cover, and looking for signs that Sheffield may have come one way or another. He tried to listen, but the sounds of the burning below him and the oncoming fire sirens rendered that sense useless. He had to go more on instinct than anything else – where would he set up if he were Sheffield?
He darted a glance around him, looking about the roof. There were too many places that seemed attractive. The obvious one was the water tower in the far corner. A sniper could have virtually unlimited security from there. But that would also eliminate too many exit routes and restrict movement. Besides, he didn't think Sheffield had a rifle anymore. Mac ignored that location.
There was a maintenance hut about halfway down the south wall. It was a better possibility. There would be an almost unlimited ability to hide inside, on top of, or around it. There would also be equipment in there for making other weapons, such as the makeshift bomb Mac had created in the infirmary. That seemed too obvious, though. Sheffield would go for something sneakier.
His eyes and ears strained for any hint of where his opponent might be. This reminded him of the war games he had participated in years ago. The commando games always came down to a one-on-one scenario. He had won three years in a row, but so had Sheffield in his day. The others on the team had wondered what it would be like to see him and Sheffield go head-to-head.
Just a few days ago they had gotten a preview of that. In the Sunnydale cemetery, Mac had led Sheffield on a merry chase, and eventually outsmarted him. Sheffield, though, had used magic to shoot Mac in the back. Call that round a draw.
This time, though, there'd be a winner and a loser. The stakes were life and death. Sheffield couldn't afford to have MacKenzie continue to tail him. It had to end here and now. On the other hand, the fire crews were coming, and eventually the police. That would be a danger to him. He needed to escape unseen. That meant he had to act quickly.
Mac thought again about what he would do. If I were being pursued and had headed up to the roof, where would I go? He concentrated for a moment, closing his eyes and reversing the roles. I wouldn't go to the roof, he concluded finally. And that means neither did Sheffield.
Mac turned, suddenly remembering the trap-door he had just passed. There were a number of them which led from the catwalks just below the warehouse to the roof. They were large, steel caps that covered a two by two opening. It would the perfect place to pop out of and ambush someone on the roof. As his head spun the corner of his eye saw the muzzle of the gun. He jumped sideways.
Sheffield had his head and shoulders out of the hole in the roof. One hand held the trapdoor to keep it from banging. The other extended his pistol at Mac and pulled the trigger. He'd been waiting on the ladder, patiently biding his time. He had heard Mac's footsteps cross above him as he passed the trapdoor. He'd waited a moment more, and then silently risen like a ghost from the grave, aimed, and fired.
Mac twisted sideways in the air, spinning as he dove aside. Sheffield got three shots off in the space of a heartbeat. One clipped MacKenzie's coat and would've been a kill shot had he not moved when he had. One went just under his hip, so close that Mac would feel the disturbance it left in the air. The third went across his chest as he twisted, ripping a line through his shirt and leaving a grazed trail of blood.
Those were the only three shots Sheffield would get off, though. In mid-air, twisting his body, Mac was able to bring Imogene to bear. Sheffield dropped down the hole as Mac squeezed the trigger. The retort of the gun drowned out the noise of Sheffield's free fall onto the catwalks. The recoil sent Mac careening out of control, landing him in a tangled heap on the roof. The shot hit the steel cover of the trapdoor as it was falling closed and ripped it clean off its hinges. It skittered to a stop about the same time Mac looked up.
Mac rose in a scramble and ran for the trapdoor. The chase was on, now, and he couldn't let Sheffield change the momentum again. As he ran he put Imogene back into his hip holster and drew two smaller automatics from his sides. He slid to a stop next to the opening and fired them both into the hole. There was no return fire, so he risked a look. Sheffield was not in view.
Mac dropped himself head and shoulders through the hole, guns at the ready. He paused only a moment, looking for a clean shot. Then he dropped himself the rest of the way through. He thrust one hand into the metal ladder leading up to the trap and used it to turn himself so he landed upright. He spun around, looking.
He located Sheffield after only a moment. He had moved down the catwalk and around one side of a ceiling mounted crane. Neither of them had a clean shot. Sheffield was limping, his fall having broken an ankle. Mac took off in hot pursuit.
They exchanged gunfire as he came around the corner. Both men ducked behind what limited cover they had. Then Sheffield was up and darting across to a control panel. Mac fired twice, but couldn't hit him. At the panel, Sheffield began hitting buttons. The crane lights came on.
He grabbed the joystick and twisted it. The crane spun. He raised the neck, adjusted it, and sent it spinning. The large metal hook on it weighed a ton all by itself. Sheffield used it to catch one of the supports on the underside of the catwalks. Suddenly, the section Mac was on lurched violently, crumpling. He was pitched over the side.
* * *
Angel leapt. Not at the strike team, but over them. They weren't expecting that, and their attempts to twist and track him bunched them up. He landed just to their left and on the opposite side of where he'd started. He spun and struck.
Betsy caught the rifle of one of the assailants and sent it flying. Then he was moving in, hands, feet, and sword flying. The strike team had clumped together in a way that made it impossible for them to bring their weapons to bear. The same wasn't true for Angel. He used the flat of the sword to hit one and then another across the head. They crumpled, tripping one of their fellows.
He reversed the blade and used a cross-arm slash to catch the remaining member on the forearm. The blade bit deep and the man dropped his rifle. Angel spun and followed it up by driving the pommel into the man's forehead. He dropped like a rock.
The last man, the one who'd been tripped up by his fallen comrades, attempted to run. Angel, though, was faster than any human. Three strides brought him in front of the strike team member, and he grabbed him by the collar.
"Leaving so soon?" Angel asked. Then he transformed into his full vampire face. Ridges formed in his forehead. Those, he'd found, were particularly effective when delivering a head-butt. That's exactly what Angel did, and the last man fell, unconscious.
Angel turned to leave. He had only made it a few steps, however, when the manhole cover in the street behind him was knocked ten feet in the air. He whipped around as it landed, the cacophony of its impact echoing off the alley walls. A growl carried up through the manhole, followed by one scaled set of claws. A second set of claws found purchase by gouging deep furrows into the asphalt.
"This is more like it," Angel commented, swinging Betsy around in a complicated arc. He dropped back into a ready stance as the Katar Beast drug its slimy body out onto the street.
* * *
Mac gripped the rail of the twisted catwalk, his body dangling fifty feet above the concrete floor. The metal screeched in protest as he tried to swing his legs up and hook his foot. The motion of his weight sent a shiver through the metal. One more stanchion let go from the wall, dropping it another two feet and causing Mac to lose grip with one of his hands. He hung there, suspended by one hand, unable to climb up and having nowhere to land should he fall.
He was considering his situation somewhat precarious when the first bullet ricocheted dangerously close to him. Sheffield was shooting at him. The next bullet was even closer. He was about to have a choice of falling to his death or being shot, possibly killed, and then falling to his death. He didn't like either option.
* * *
Angel faced the giant creature with a certain amount of trepidation. The stinger at the end of its ten foot tail was dangerous. The three rows of teeth in its five foot wide maw were dangerous. The two clawed front feet were dangerous. The large blinking light on the radio collar indicated that it was one of Wolfram and Hart's pets. None of that was really the issue. He could dodge around it well enough, avoid the teeth, claws, and stinger, and eventually manage to bury Betsy in some vital part of the creature. However, there was a risk that it would get past him and manage to get Faith before he could stop it.
He slowly backed down the alley, his sword swinging wide arcs in front of him. His best bet, as near as he could decide, would be to see if Faith could get up and go. If she were able to flee the area while he held it off, he could catch up with her after he had taken care of the demon. If she couldn't, well, he'd have just given up some precious ground.
He backed up almost to the place where he'd left her and attempted to call out to her. "Faith," he said. There was no answer. "Faith, I need you to run. Can you do that?" He heard no reply. No movement at all, either.
The Katar Beast scuttled up a few feet and shot its barbed tongue out. Angel dodged to the side and took a swipe at the appendage. They both missed. "Forgot about the tongue," Angel muttered to himself.
He called to Faith again, and there was no reply. Finally, he risked a look back.
Faith was gone.