The men fired, but they were terrible shooters and most bullets missed, except one graze the side of her shin. Cursing she flew as high as she could until she felt the tips of her wings brush the rough, dirty ceiling. The men continued to fire, but they were slowing down, actually aiming, and she knew that if she didn't get out of there she was going to end up shot. But she wasn't stupid, she wasn't just going to dive bomb for the door, the guards were in her way. It would be a suicide fly.

So she turned and flew for the back of the room, which seemed to surprise the gunmen as they took a second to follow her. Laughing darkly to herself she braced her feet against the back wall, wings holding her up, then she pushed off and flew straight at them. They fired widely and Quinn felt a bullet lodge in her right wing, just missing a major muscle. She gritted her teeth and kicked them both in the head, right off their feet, as she soared back them. Landing outside the room she pressed the keypad next to the doorway and the rest of the metal wall slid into place with a low thud.

Panting she allowed herself a smile before trying to fold her wings in. Her left one folded in normally but as her right one was just about to close a shock of pain coursed through it, across to her back and down her spine. She bit her hand to stifle a scream and tasted blood. Then she heard footsteps coming down the hall and she looked around for somewhere to hide. There was a small door off to her right side and she ran over, grabbed the handle, and pulled it open. It revealed a small cramped office and she quickly stepped in, shutting the door behind her and stepping out of sight. Several pairs of footsteps passed the room and she didn't let herself breathe until they had.

Sighing she ripped off the lower part of the shirt she wore under she jacket. After tying that too tightly around her hand she returned to assessing her wing. She tried to close it again and focused on where the pain was originating from. It seemed like the bullet had pierced into a piece of muscle but not fully, so when she folded her wing it pressed against the bullet to go deeper into the muscle. Cursing she realized that she wouldn't be able to close it or she wouldn't be able to fly with it afterwards until she took the bullet out, and she currently didn't have the time nor the tools to do such.

Muttering and grumbling under her breath she looked around the room. That's when she noticed the computer monitors on the desks… She sprinted over, cursing when her wing bumped into something. On the computer monitor showed pictures of what looked like cells. Two of the three were filled, both with someone she knew.

Kitchie.

And Mark.

AN: Short I know. But I needed to work on my NaNoWriMo story and it didn't leave me a lot of time tonight to write this. And now I need to go to bed.

At least I left y'all on a cliffie!

Love you!