An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.
Author: Chippewa Livingston
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
Chapter 21. Closed doors
Elle's toes tapped nervously, and her fingers twisted the photo-ident that was clipped to her sweater. She was clearly itching to be gone. I wondered what the pic of the guy with glasses would be good for.
Before Asha could protest, I grabbed a wrist, crouched, and settled her into a fireman's carry across my shoulders. A firm grip on her plastic suit would keep her there. If she didn't struggle too much, I might even be able to avoid slamming her into any door frames.
"This sucks," I said to no one in particular, and followed Elle back towards the stairs.
"Oh, thanks," growled Asha. I could feel her trying to curl into a ball, and settling her weight more evenly.
Elle got to the stairs, and froze with her hand on the door. "They're coming down!"
Crap. We did an about-face, and she sprinted past me, leading to the elevator.
When I caught up, she was leaning on the button hard enough to crack the plastic.
"Are there other stairs?" I asked.
"Logan locked them for me." Her lip twitched.
"Can we lie our way out?" asked Asha, from behind my left shoulder.
Elle shook her head. "I already caused some casualties on my way in." How had I ever thought that being 'Roxane' the waitress would make Elle loose her edge?
The elevator door slid open like there was nothing wrong. I could hear footsteps, from somewhere down the hall.
Empty. Yellow fluorescent light shone off scuffed stainless steel. We got in. Elle pushed a button, and the doors slid shut.
"You can put me down now." The elevator started moving.
As the numbers switched from B3 to B2, Elle hit 'Redial' on the phone.
She shook her head, counted to ten, and hit it again.
One ring. "Logan! How many in the front lobby?"
"Lots. Just a sec. . ."
"I'm running out of secs."
"Nobody's on the third yet," offered the voice on the phone.
Elle muttered something that sounded like "luck," and snapped off the phone. She pushed the second floor button.
"Speed," she said. "We gotta get behind them, and make a very rapid escape."
The floor underneath me paused, and reversed direction.
Elle used that "luck" word again, and swiped her stolen ID badge through the card reader. The display lit, and she started to punch keys.
The elevator hovered, indecisively. We were stuck. I dropped Asha.
***
Boot against my ribs, and I just missed bashing my head against the concrete floor.
I would have sworn I could feel the current arcing down my nerves, and heating bones. Two bodyguards, and the both had freshly charged batteries and good contact.
The door swung open, but I was in no position to take advantage of it. Two more blue-suited goons helped the woman up.
The current quit, the buzzing in my ears slowed down, and I realized she was talking. "You have some sort of delusions about who is in charge here. This will be resolved shortly." She strode out with confidence, and four more toughs in blue suits walked in.
The adrenaline kicked up a notch, and I did my best to levitate off the floor.
Six of them, and one of me. I decided it was almost a fair fight.
**
I felt the sweat running down the back of my neck, and I tore off the white coverall. Elle didn't even look up from the panel and the keypad.
The shiny metal doors were still closed, and the elevator floor was solid as a rock. I tried to press fingers between the two halves of the door. It was getting hard to breath in here.
"What are you doing?" asked Asha.
**
Dodging the shock sticks kept me busy for a little while. Then, I had an opening.
I slid behind one, and my elbow met his ribs. He sank to the floor, and practically tripped me. Two others tried to tag me, and a third that I'd lost track of made contact.
Blue lightning, and a couple of fists came at me.
I heard the door swing open, and watched two more guys came through. One dragged out my victim, the other stayed to join the fun.
It formed a pattern. First a shock, then I'd get a couple of bruises. They would back off, and repeat.
Every now and then I'd get close enough to hurt someone, but he would immediately be replaced.
**
"Elle," said Asha.
The lights seemed to be getting dim, and flickering.
**
It turns out that I can run up a wall, for just a little while, if there are enough guys in suits chasing me. I had an odd, sideways view of the floor for an instant. Concrete, with reddish smears.
"Just like that stupid 90s movie," I muttered to myself. The one with the sunglasses was especially creepy.
Back on the floor, back on my feet. I caught an arm, took the balance, and didn't wait to see the guy hit. The sunglasses bounced, spinning up into the air.
Keep moving. My left foot slid, just a bit. Careful.
My fist met the crease under someone's jaw, and I looked for my next opportunity to do damage.
Mr. Sunglasses, in mid-air, minus the sunglasses. Football . . .
(I tried to sidestep, with no traction. Someone's blood.)
. . . tackle.
The floor came up to smack me, but I wasn't paying attention. That knee isn't supposed to bend in that direction.
Mr. Sunglasses got to his feet, grinning like he was planning his end-zone dance.
Half a dozen rumpled suits closed in, blocking out the light.
Get up. Now.
My right leg wasn't going with the plan.
All blue lighting, with occasional flashes of badly-polished black leather.
Author: Chippewa Livingston
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
Chapter 21. Closed doors
Elle's toes tapped nervously, and her fingers twisted the photo-ident that was clipped to her sweater. She was clearly itching to be gone. I wondered what the pic of the guy with glasses would be good for.
Before Asha could protest, I grabbed a wrist, crouched, and settled her into a fireman's carry across my shoulders. A firm grip on her plastic suit would keep her there. If she didn't struggle too much, I might even be able to avoid slamming her into any door frames.
"This sucks," I said to no one in particular, and followed Elle back towards the stairs.
"Oh, thanks," growled Asha. I could feel her trying to curl into a ball, and settling her weight more evenly.
Elle got to the stairs, and froze with her hand on the door. "They're coming down!"
Crap. We did an about-face, and she sprinted past me, leading to the elevator.
When I caught up, she was leaning on the button hard enough to crack the plastic.
"Are there other stairs?" I asked.
"Logan locked them for me." Her lip twitched.
"Can we lie our way out?" asked Asha, from behind my left shoulder.
Elle shook her head. "I already caused some casualties on my way in." How had I ever thought that being 'Roxane' the waitress would make Elle loose her edge?
The elevator door slid open like there was nothing wrong. I could hear footsteps, from somewhere down the hall.
Empty. Yellow fluorescent light shone off scuffed stainless steel. We got in. Elle pushed a button, and the doors slid shut.
"You can put me down now." The elevator started moving.
As the numbers switched from B3 to B2, Elle hit 'Redial' on the phone.
She shook her head, counted to ten, and hit it again.
One ring. "Logan! How many in the front lobby?"
"Lots. Just a sec. . ."
"I'm running out of secs."
"Nobody's on the third yet," offered the voice on the phone.
Elle muttered something that sounded like "luck," and snapped off the phone. She pushed the second floor button.
"Speed," she said. "We gotta get behind them, and make a very rapid escape."
The floor underneath me paused, and reversed direction.
Elle used that "luck" word again, and swiped her stolen ID badge through the card reader. The display lit, and she started to punch keys.
The elevator hovered, indecisively. We were stuck. I dropped Asha.
***
Boot against my ribs, and I just missed bashing my head against the concrete floor.
I would have sworn I could feel the current arcing down my nerves, and heating bones. Two bodyguards, and the both had freshly charged batteries and good contact.
The door swung open, but I was in no position to take advantage of it. Two more blue-suited goons helped the woman up.
The current quit, the buzzing in my ears slowed down, and I realized she was talking. "You have some sort of delusions about who is in charge here. This will be resolved shortly." She strode out with confidence, and four more toughs in blue suits walked in.
The adrenaline kicked up a notch, and I did my best to levitate off the floor.
Six of them, and one of me. I decided it was almost a fair fight.
**
I felt the sweat running down the back of my neck, and I tore off the white coverall. Elle didn't even look up from the panel and the keypad.
The shiny metal doors were still closed, and the elevator floor was solid as a rock. I tried to press fingers between the two halves of the door. It was getting hard to breath in here.
"What are you doing?" asked Asha.
**
Dodging the shock sticks kept me busy for a little while. Then, I had an opening.
I slid behind one, and my elbow met his ribs. He sank to the floor, and practically tripped me. Two others tried to tag me, and a third that I'd lost track of made contact.
Blue lightning, and a couple of fists came at me.
I heard the door swing open, and watched two more guys came through. One dragged out my victim, the other stayed to join the fun.
It formed a pattern. First a shock, then I'd get a couple of bruises. They would back off, and repeat.
Every now and then I'd get close enough to hurt someone, but he would immediately be replaced.
**
"Elle," said Asha.
The lights seemed to be getting dim, and flickering.
**
It turns out that I can run up a wall, for just a little while, if there are enough guys in suits chasing me. I had an odd, sideways view of the floor for an instant. Concrete, with reddish smears.
"Just like that stupid 90s movie," I muttered to myself. The one with the sunglasses was especially creepy.
Back on the floor, back on my feet. I caught an arm, took the balance, and didn't wait to see the guy hit. The sunglasses bounced, spinning up into the air.
Keep moving. My left foot slid, just a bit. Careful.
My fist met the crease under someone's jaw, and I looked for my next opportunity to do damage.
Mr. Sunglasses, in mid-air, minus the sunglasses. Football . . .
(I tried to sidestep, with no traction. Someone's blood.)
. . . tackle.
The floor came up to smack me, but I wasn't paying attention. That knee isn't supposed to bend in that direction.
Mr. Sunglasses got to his feet, grinning like he was planning his end-zone dance.
Half a dozen rumpled suits closed in, blocking out the light.
Get up. Now.
My right leg wasn't going with the plan.
All blue lighting, with occasional flashes of badly-polished black leather.