Summary: Fynta tracked the target to a construction site. Slowing her pace, she followed the blip on the datapad from the tracer that she'd slipped into her target's drink. According to the readings, Fynta should be standing nearly on top of the woman. She looked up to find only a row of permacrete trucks, and no sign of the target.
Word Count: 721
A/N: This whole thing sprung up literally in the middle of the night when Shimmersing posted a thing on Tumblr that said "I wanna fight someone in one of those spinning things on the back of cement trucks." I couldn't sleep, inspiration struck, then one thing led to another and now we have Fynta battling it out in the back of a permacrete truck. Lightly edited and just for fun.
Coruscant
Construction Site 36709
Fynta tracked the target to a construction site. Slowing her pace, she followed the blip on the datapad from the tracer that she'd slipped into her target's drink. According to the readings, Fynta should be standing nearly on top of the woman. She looked up to find only a row of permacrete trucks, and no sign of the target.
Clambering on top of one of the vehicles for a better look, Fynta was startled to see that one of the hatches hung open. She leaped carefully over the cabs' rooftops until landing on the one belonging to her objective. Fynta unholstered her weapon, took a deep breath, then dropped into darkness.
Fynta's boots struck hard plaster a moment before a feminine laugh cut through the darkness. "Gotcha."
There was no time to react to the familiar voice before the floor shifted, and Fynta was dumped on her ass. She cursed when the rotation carried her up the side, only to roll her down again. Reaching for her flashlight, Fynta had just enough time to activate it before it was wrenched from her hands to clatter out of reach. The strobe light effect made Fynta's gaze blurry as she tried to make sense of the floor. Only then did she see the woman crouched on a thin, metal platform, her form shifting in the shadows.
It was Fynta's target, a red-haired human woman wanted across the galaxy for all manner of vile offenses. Fynta had no idea why the SIS wanted this woman in particular, only that her job was to deliver.
The light continued to bounce around the truck's barrel, revealing the woman's hand still resting on a lever. Without warning, she vanished, only to reappear when the strobe caught her boot. Fynta followed the leg towards the hatch where the woman hung just before one of those boots connected with her shoulder.
The kick sprawled Fynta across the floor again, scraping her exposed flesh against the barrel's jagged walls. This time, Fynta regained her footing faster and wasted no time latching onto the dangling legs above her. She had a solid nine kilos on her opponent. It was only a matter of time before the woman's arms gave out.
Fynta's target cursed, and they plummeted to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Neither woman was particularly steady on the still undulating surface, but that didn't stop either from striking out. When the woman lost her balance, she took Fynta's knees out, and they crashed into the side of the barrel. Punches and kicks were punctuated by oaths in every language available until Fynta was forced flat on her stomach. The woman landed on top of her, and Fynta struck out blindly to feel the satisfying crunch of her boot striking cartilage.
A heavy thump sounded behind Fynta, and she turned in time to see the woman's unconscious form slide up the side, only to tumble end over end back to the bottom. A gruesome spiral of blood from her broken nose now decorated the wall in an ever-growing pattern.
Carefully, Fynta managed to only fall on her now apprehended target once on her way to the platform. She flipped the lever, then staggered when the barrel ground to a deafening halt. It took a few more seconds to regain her footing now that the ground stayed where it was supposed to, then checked the woman's pulse. It was enough to convince Fynta that she'd survive, and she flipped the woman onto her stomach to ensure that she didn't drown in her own blood.
Stretching her back, Fynta sighed, then jumped up to grab the turn-wheel for the hatch. She was bruised and exhausted. It took every ounce of strength Fynta could muster to pull herself out, then she slammed the hatch shut, and flopped onto the smooth surface of the barrel.
Fynta winced at the torn skin that entered her field of vision when she reached for her earpiece. "Wolfe to Command. Target is secure, awaiting evac." She waited for confirmation, then let her arm fall back to its original position. No doubt, she'd need a lot of bandaging after this one, but at least she came away with one hell of a story. She sighed and closed her eyes. "They don't pay me enough for this job."