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.
Ch. 26 Calvary, in a disorderly retreat
My computer geek's ID card had got me to a log-in screen. The little red-lit display told me that my name was Eric Finster-Smythe, and demanded my password. There were a couple of ways around this, but the system was holding the elevator while it waited. If I hit "cancel", the elevator would start moving, probably in the wrong direction.
I'd come here to get Sharp. Sure, I'd take Asha, too, since she was handy, but I wasn't going to work up a sweat for her. We even had whatever useless thing that Sharp and Asha went in for.
I was going to have to guess the password. I scolded myself for not taking the guy's wallet. Birthday would be nice – but all I knew was he was a fan of some stupid program about a woman named Dinah (punch it in – nope, not that) who says the magic word and turns into an ass-kicking machine.
The magic word was – What was it? Must have been a "popular culture" class I slept through. She says the magic word . . .
Someone grabbed my arm. "Elle," said Asha, "what is he trying to do?" Her eyes were wide.
Sharp was trying to leave the elevator. He was trying to get the grip between the doors to open them, and wasn't really thinking things through. I could see the rapid pulse in his neck, and his eyes seemed to be rolled back into his head.
I couldn't think of a bad word bad enough.
"Sharp!" He wasn't really here, and I had a bad feeling about where he might be, mentally. "Listen to me!"
He ignored me. His fingers slipped on the door – sweaty palms.
"Asha," I said, tossing her the phone, "dial nine one one."
She looked at me like I was loosing my mind. "What do I tell them?"
I glared at her, and she started dialing. "Tell them that someone's having a heart attack. On the roof. Need helicopter! There will be a body."
"Sharp," I put a hand on his arm, carefully. Rapid pulse, cold sweat, trembling. I was feeling pretty shaky myself. "We're leaving!"
"Trapped!" he muttered, and leaned back into the elevator door.
***
I was in the lead. We'd been lucky enough to overhear a radio conversation, and my team and I were pretty sure that Sharp was inside that messy maze of concrete and chemical refinery equipment. Shadows were getting long, and we were taking maximum advantage.
I was also too far out in front. Part of my brain was screaming that my team (and the rest of Sharp's) couldn't keep up, and another part of my brain was imagining horrible things happening to Sharp. As a rule, it takes lots of work to keep an X where they don't want to be. Which meant that if Sharp wasn't walking out on his own, he was in serious trouble.
The gray concrete corridor stretched out into the distance in front of me. Color coded pipes would have told me where to find hot water, or live steam, or whatever, if I cared. I heard unfamiliar voices, mangled by the echoes. I ran harder.
An open door caught my attention, and I ducked in.
"Bastard," said the guy next to the door, who was holding ice to one eye (and therefore didn't see me) "He really messed up Toby and Fletch."
"Yeah," said the other one, "but he got what was coming to him." He was leaning over a desk and trying to fit together some broken bits of sunglasses.
"Boss-lady is going to be pissed if you've killed him, you know."
"Speaking of pissed," I interrupted, "where is the bastard?" One looked towards me, the other started to glance towards a television screen, then stopped himself.
"Who are you to care?"
"He called a taxi," I fibbed. I got a quick glance at the screen. I didn't see any motion, but I felt my stomach dropping. The body on the floor looked uncomfortably familiar.
"You can't just barge in here where you're not wanted, young lady." He stood up and straightened his jacket. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"
"I don't have one," I said, and launched a kick at his midsection.
***
Asha was talking to the cell phone. She was telling some very persuasive lies about an industrial accident involving hot roofing material, and electricity. Oh, yeah. Send a helicopter.
Sharp scraped fingernails against the steel doors, then shifted for a better grip.
"Gotta talk to me," I whispered. I put a hand on his shoulder. X-5 muscle, tense. If I ever needed a spare anvil . . . Well, I'd probably wind up using his head. "I've got the escape plan."
***
I didn't realize there was blood under my fingernails until I had to slow down to pick the lock. Fact of the matter is, they taught me that I was supposed to bust the door down, with my entire squad behind me. If I'd been following the cables correctly, Sharp, my best partner ever, was on the other side of that door.
Sharp's body, anyway. Hard to tell from that crummy image.
My squad hadn't caught up yet, and my heart was hammering in my ears. My hands were shaking, and the lock was doing its best to stay locked.
***
I realized that I was digging fingernails into Sharp's arm.
"This is awful," said Asha, with feeling. "He's going to die!" The voice on the other end of the phone connection mumbled something reassuring.
"Look at me!" I think I sounded panicked. "Sharp, I need you!"
Author: Chippewa Livingston
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
Ch. 26 Calvary, in a disorderly retreat
My computer geek's ID card had got me to a log-in screen. The little red-lit display told me that my name was Eric Finster-Smythe, and demanded my password. There were a couple of ways around this, but the system was holding the elevator while it waited. If I hit "cancel", the elevator would start moving, probably in the wrong direction.
I'd come here to get Sharp. Sure, I'd take Asha, too, since she was handy, but I wasn't going to work up a sweat for her. We even had whatever useless thing that Sharp and Asha went in for.
I was going to have to guess the password. I scolded myself for not taking the guy's wallet. Birthday would be nice – but all I knew was he was a fan of some stupid program about a woman named Dinah (punch it in – nope, not that) who says the magic word and turns into an ass-kicking machine.
The magic word was – What was it? Must have been a "popular culture" class I slept through. She says the magic word . . .
Someone grabbed my arm. "Elle," said Asha, "what is he trying to do?" Her eyes were wide.
Sharp was trying to leave the elevator. He was trying to get the grip between the doors to open them, and wasn't really thinking things through. I could see the rapid pulse in his neck, and his eyes seemed to be rolled back into his head.
I couldn't think of a bad word bad enough.
"Sharp!" He wasn't really here, and I had a bad feeling about where he might be, mentally. "Listen to me!"
He ignored me. His fingers slipped on the door – sweaty palms.
"Asha," I said, tossing her the phone, "dial nine one one."
She looked at me like I was loosing my mind. "What do I tell them?"
I glared at her, and she started dialing. "Tell them that someone's having a heart attack. On the roof. Need helicopter! There will be a body."
"Sharp," I put a hand on his arm, carefully. Rapid pulse, cold sweat, trembling. I was feeling pretty shaky myself. "We're leaving!"
"Trapped!" he muttered, and leaned back into the elevator door.
***
I was in the lead. We'd been lucky enough to overhear a radio conversation, and my team and I were pretty sure that Sharp was inside that messy maze of concrete and chemical refinery equipment. Shadows were getting long, and we were taking maximum advantage.
I was also too far out in front. Part of my brain was screaming that my team (and the rest of Sharp's) couldn't keep up, and another part of my brain was imagining horrible things happening to Sharp. As a rule, it takes lots of work to keep an X where they don't want to be. Which meant that if Sharp wasn't walking out on his own, he was in serious trouble.
The gray concrete corridor stretched out into the distance in front of me. Color coded pipes would have told me where to find hot water, or live steam, or whatever, if I cared. I heard unfamiliar voices, mangled by the echoes. I ran harder.
An open door caught my attention, and I ducked in.
"Bastard," said the guy next to the door, who was holding ice to one eye (and therefore didn't see me) "He really messed up Toby and Fletch."
"Yeah," said the other one, "but he got what was coming to him." He was leaning over a desk and trying to fit together some broken bits of sunglasses.
"Boss-lady is going to be pissed if you've killed him, you know."
"Speaking of pissed," I interrupted, "where is the bastard?" One looked towards me, the other started to glance towards a television screen, then stopped himself.
"Who are you to care?"
"He called a taxi," I fibbed. I got a quick glance at the screen. I didn't see any motion, but I felt my stomach dropping. The body on the floor looked uncomfortably familiar.
"You can't just barge in here where you're not wanted, young lady." He stood up and straightened his jacket. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"
"I don't have one," I said, and launched a kick at his midsection.
***
Asha was talking to the cell phone. She was telling some very persuasive lies about an industrial accident involving hot roofing material, and electricity. Oh, yeah. Send a helicopter.
Sharp scraped fingernails against the steel doors, then shifted for a better grip.
"Gotta talk to me," I whispered. I put a hand on his shoulder. X-5 muscle, tense. If I ever needed a spare anvil . . . Well, I'd probably wind up using his head. "I've got the escape plan."
***
I didn't realize there was blood under my fingernails until I had to slow down to pick the lock. Fact of the matter is, they taught me that I was supposed to bust the door down, with my entire squad behind me. If I'd been following the cables correctly, Sharp, my best partner ever, was on the other side of that door.
Sharp's body, anyway. Hard to tell from that crummy image.
My squad hadn't caught up yet, and my heart was hammering in my ears. My hands were shaking, and the lock was doing its best to stay locked.
***
I realized that I was digging fingernails into Sharp's arm.
"This is awful," said Asha, with feeling. "He's going to die!" The voice on the other end of the phone connection mumbled something reassuring.
"Look at me!" I think I sounded panicked. "Sharp, I need you!"