Wow…Actually my comeback hurt a little. I lost a few followers with that last chapter. Not sure what that was about but it's really made me rethink some of the plans for the next chapters, especially if you guys think it's starting to suck bigtime. :(
AND EDITING NIGTMARE …eugh, had to retype this thanks to issues with Edit Tracking in Microsoft. I wasn't being sarcastic back there, sorry, but seriously, anyone out there wants to be my Beta? There's serious backlog for this story and several others but I just don't got time to comb all the details for them cause the CHAPTERS ARE TOO LONG. EDITING EXPERT HELP PUH-LEASE!
Words cannot describe how much I LOATHE writing HG. *sighs* she's my hurdle. Everyone else is super easy.
Black Keys –EL CAMINO Album got me through this. Especially the fight scenes…Gold on the Ceiling..dun dunna dun… I ain't blind, it's just a matter of time…before you steal it…
THANKS TO ALL THE READERS, FOLLOWERS.
SHOUT OUT TO ALL THOSE WHO COMMENTED!
SNATCH – CHAPTER 12
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Before she was a killer, so to speak, HG Wells was more notably a scientist.
For that fact alone it was understandable how a mind as complex as hers could turn just about anything into a "little" science experiment–even if said experiment meant jeopardizing the outcome of her own plot, hence the itty-bitty pickle she'd gotten her redhead accomplice in unbeknownst. If one could peek inside of the scientists' mind at the moment, this was the current trial in focus;
PROBLEM
The heiress was a liar.
HYPOTHESIS
If she were to leave the heiress with her cohort, the heiress would feel comfortable and slip-up exposing herself to be a mole.
It was a risky operation but it was a risk that HG was willing to take.
Up until the day she'd crossed path with the younger Bering, HG had prided herself on a simple fact being that she had a way with reading people. In fact, her skills of perception were so remarkably high that during her tenor as a researcher, she was given several psychological tests to understand her brain and way of thinking better. Scientist from all over the world marveled over the results and quizzed her on later dates to test whether or not they were flukes.
This being the case, HG was certain that she understood Myka Bering.
During the six months that they had relentlessly studied the heiress, the inventor's necessary curiosity had blossomed into something provoking –she saw through Myka's veneer. Buried deep underneath her rather pleasing physique, intelligence, and elite pedigree was something that had frightened HG almost to abort operation. For the first time in her life, the great HG Wells had crossed paths with an individual who was in fact comparable to herself.
And that's exactly why HG didn't trust her.
HG understood herself enough to know that she kept her share of secrets. She told people what they wanted to hear and it was how she learned to survive. Knowing this, it was near impossible for her not to wonder if Myka had a piece of that illness.
Was the younger woman playing along to betray her?
Was Myka secretly plotting her own attack?
HG didn't know the answers to those questions as of yet, but when she did and they were conclusive (proving her theory of course), the writer had already laid out her options on how to handle the ordeal. The wringing of that pretty little neck should do the trick. And if that proves to be not enough…Perhaps a trip to the New York River. After her little luncheon with Hugo, HG had enough dead weight on her hands already. No need to lug around more.
It was exactly a quarter after three when HG had entered the bank. She watched as the guards returned from breaks as the new round of Tellers opened their stations. Once this sweep was over, she took a chair by the window and opened a Cosmo magazine as she waited. The bankers were too busy to notice her and if they did they probably assumed she was sitting there waiting her turn, she was not.
Four pages in HG glanced up just in time to see Myka enter the bank and cross her way over to the elevator. The inventor braced herself at the terse exchange that had taken place between Myka and the young guard, then her mouth slightly dropped when the heiress grabbed a pamphlet and dropped a dime in the charity. On one hand it was impressive the level of acting skill the heiress displayed, but on another it was all the more disconcerting. Seeing this, HG was more than ever sure about her decision to test Myka.
Puffing just a little, HG turned the page and waited.
101 More Ways to Tease Him into Pleasure
Having read the Kama Sutra cover to ending, HG wasn't even going to pretend she wasn't halfway interested. She buried her face in the pages. Somewhere near the middle of the highly graphic and strangely disappointing article, voices jarred by the elevators. HG lowered the magazine and checked her watch. Five minutes had turned into ten. Things were moving right on cue. Inside of her mind, the inventor checked off the events as they happened as if they were stages of an elaborate play.
ACT ONE: Casual Concern
A rotund guard took position infront of the disabled elevator. His voice was calm as he spoke into a bulky black walkie talkie.
"Call service, report all of the elevators are down." he said.
Another of the guards stuck a yellow "CAUTION WET FLOOR" sign before the space and tried to direct people to take the stairs. Less than thirty seconds passed before those people returned wearing vexed expressions.
"Something's wrong with the doors, they wouldn't open." said a lady.
ACT TWO: Worry
The round guard pointed towards the woman with the walkie's antenna.
"Did you turn the knob the right way?" he asked.
"I'm not an idiot, of course I did." she replied.
Annoyance flickered across the guards face as he directed to the guard lingering by the corner.
"Check to see if it's locked."
The same group followed a younger steadfast guard to the second floor. From her own study, HG knew that the locks in this particular building were special in the fact that they were powered by electronics. Special attention was given to this fact as she and Claudia had formulated a perfect way to circumvent any slip ups. Those who finished up with the Tellers were now by the doors. By now the little fact had come into play yet again as they realized what HG already knew.
"These doors are locked too!"
Someone yelled.
Here the few guards stepped forward and tried in vain to placate the worried people.
"It's probably a trip alarm. Perhaps one of the guards upstairs triggered it trying to open the safes." suggested one guard.
"Everyone gather in a single file line, the doors will open." suggested another.
Over near the station the tellers seemed to be having more technical difficulties. Some began to voice that their screens had frozen, many others that their monitors shut off completely. While they frantically worked to get them to work again, someone had thought to take out their cell phone and tried to phone out.
"Something's wrong with the phones too!"
Something was very wrong indeed.
Unlike the bankers, HG already knew that all systems were down – phones, elevators, security locks, computers, and surprise, surprise, the video cameras. The only thing remotely working were the lights and A/C, which thanks to Claudia's tinkering and her own genius, it was planned that way from the beginning as a diversion. Wary murmurs decorated the lobby as many others began to note this strange phenomenon. To gain a signal of any sort, some took to standing on tables and chairs while waving their cellphones in the air. Little was being done to stop this behavior, by now all of the guards had abandoned post and were nervously pacing the teller station.
ACT THREE: Panic
The guard who nodded at Myka had entered the station and began to type. From the sound alone, HG realized that he was perhaps as good of a hacker as her apprentice. As he worked, a few guards surrounded him, when his typing stopped he spun around and murmured something to them. Whatever was shared, even from HG's distance she saw that their faces drained entirely.
The rotund guard who was first on the scene came onto the middle of the floor and raised his hands.
"Everything is Ok people, if everyone just remain calm this will pass, guaranteed." he announced.
This was the last thing they wanted to hear. One of the men standing atop of a table jabbed an angry fist and responded–
"Our damn money's in here! What kind of place is this?"
"Yeah! What is this?"
A chain reaction spurred and voices rose. People were angry, some demanded their money back, others simply wanted to be free. Frantic bodies pressed against the doors in attempts to open them, and hands beat against the windows.
The bank guards weren't trained to fight riots. Each of the men and women tensed and instead of handling the crowd, they began to form a line around the teller station. Only two of the guards had a gun on their person, the rest only had batons as defense. The air surrounding them reeked and it was not of bravery.
"CALM DOWN! We just need you all to COOPERATE!"
Rotund's voice was strong but his eyes shown with fear. If one paid close attention, a thin film of perspiration was already on his brow.
"LET US OUT OF HERE!"
A chair went flying, someone just tried to bash through the glass.
ACT FOUR: THE GRAND FINALE
The rotund guard pressed his walkie to his lips and shouted over the roar of the mob.
"BACK UP! BACK UP! WE'VE GOT A SITUATION DOWN HERE!"
Furniture was toppled over and more objects went flying. Amidst this, HG sat cool and collected, the magazine resting on her lap as she watched the madness. If they weren't so excited by their own fear, the idiots probably would've realized that the glass was shatter resistant.
A Fire Alarm erupted and the men and women were caught by surprise. The alarm must've overrode whatever hack Claudia had placed over the door as the first screaming civilian managed to charge his way through the door. Others began to follow, doors flew open and bankers and people rushed to the nearest exit each and every last one of them trampling on the fallen.
That's not good.
HG surmised.
Without a second thought, she jumped to her feet and pushed her way towards the staircase. Survival priority, people charged around her on all sides and pushed her along. It took a little patience for the inventor to mark her way through the crowd of escapee's, but she made it on the landing in due time. She was going for the corner that she knew led a short cut to the vaults when the young man who reminded her of Claudia came barreling towards her. She could see he was set to tackle her, if need be, and maybe go on and use those toy cop handcuffs of his to keep her in check.
"Hey, you're not supposed to be down here!" the boy barked.
His movements were awkward, but his meaning was well.
As her patience had ran thin on the stairwell, HG went in on the offence. The dark woman swung her leg in an arch and caught it to the side of the guards leg. He fell sideways grasping for his gun. Before he could reach it, she reached down, pulled him upright by his skull and jabbed her knee into his face. There was a horrific crunch as his nose fractured and shattered. A barely audible scream came from his mouth on incident, but his body went limp short after. He passed out from the pain. HG tossed the semi unconscious man sideways and made it down the hall.
Right, right, left, right.
In her mind she recounted the steps it took. She and Claudia studied this layout for months, rehearsed the break in to the zenith. She wrenched open the hall door leading to the director's office and was surprised to discover there was a group of guards marking their way down together. The leading guard crinkled his brows in confusion to see she was running towards them, he raised his hand in a wary "STOP" motion.
"The buildings evacuating, all civilians and personnel––
Cutting him off, HG punched him in the stomach and kicked him to the side. The motion was so swift, it turned the civilian eyewitnesses into a tizzy as they continued to run for their escape and still cast shocked gazes over their shoulders.
"Code Orange! Code Orange!"
Three guards that were left, from their lapels she saw that they were surveillance officials.
"Stop right there lady."
One of the men warned. He had a gun pointed at her, HG couldn't judge whether it was a taser or the real thing. To give herself a second to think, she braced herself and clenched her fist.
"What's the Code Orange for?" she asked.
Taken by her cordiality the men lost their nerve for a moment. HG coolly smirked and continued, "I've heard of Red but that's something new. What's its meaning?"
The guard that spoken first, spoke again, his Midwesterner twang made everything seem less serious than it was.
"That's code for Terrorist, ma'am."
"Oh?"
Less than thirty minutes in the building and she was already a national concern. HG shook her head in humor but her eyes hardened. The guards saw the shift in her demeanor and the two others shot their hands down to their weapon of choice, batons.
"Lady, please clear the premises like the rest of the civilians." warned the gun armed officer.
"Or what?"
"Ma'am, do listen to the kind officer. We don't want to call the Cops on you."
"I thought you were the Cops?" HG cheekily replied.
The guards micro second of awkwardness was ended by a swift hand movement. HG grabbed onto the armed officers wrist and with a sudden pull forwards, jammed her elbow into his eye. Before he could howl out in pain, she twisted his wrist and the weapon dropped to the ground as the delicate bones snapped. At the same moment she released the injured man, a second guard tried to grab her around the shoulders. HG used his body against him as she ducked inwards and spun around to his back. As she did so, she grabbed onto his arm and pulled it into a twist between his shoulders and wrapped her other arm around his neck in a chokehold. He tried to twist himself free, but she swiftly chopped her hand across neck released him into a freefall. The move spiked the man's trachea and had him rolling around the floor gagging for air.
The next flash of black came and HG was prepared with yet another strike. She grabbed onto this assailer's clubbing hand and gave him an upper cut. His head bonked backwards on his neck and he fell back into the next guard. Before either of the men could pull to their feet, HG picked a stray baton from the floor and whacked the tops of their heads with it like they were Whack-A-Moles. Two heads lolled on their necks as both men slouched onto the floor with groans.
HG tossed the stick and continued her way through the director's passage. In less than a minute, she skidded with relief in front of the vaults and pressed her hands to the surface. There was a light flashing outside and a hexagon shaped locked cinched over its front.
It was the failsafe mechanism.
The dark woman shot her hands to her pockets in a vain attempt to locate her encryption decoder. It was a work she had spent several days on in hopes of making the break-in easier, if things went awry. Each pocket was empty there was nowhere else she could've stuck it.
Bollocks!
Unfazed, HG pulled out a utility knife and jabbed it into the panel beside the door. The screen fuzzed and several numbers flashed. Instead of calling on the hacker, HG performed a little trickery of her own. Though they lacked the key components, high security locks were all in all fancy computers. The same code that went into creating the latest Macbook was the same code that allowed the locks to perform task as mundane as reserving entrance codes. The inventor danced her fingers across the numbers and typed out a series of matrices. The panel bleeped and the numbers erased. HG smirked confidently. She reached for the Hexagon lock but then she realized something wasn't quite right. There was two numbers left on the screen, they were blinking furious red.
"Sodden bloody fuck…!" HG swore aloud.
Her hand shot to her head and she squeezed on her skull.
Think, think!
Sometimes not using your brain works just as well.
HG stabbed the knife into the corner of the box and began to pry the panel from the wall. After the cover popped, she stuck the knife between her teeth and began to reroute the wirings. It took a minute, but then the lock made a creaking noise and began to shift. The door popped opened!
Before the door could slide into the wall fully, the inventor squeezed herself into the opening and raced her way down the aisle. The alarm triggered panels were rising into the air and disappearing into the ceiling. She followed the sounds of struggle as it led past the Bering's safety box, she made it to the end of the row and stopped cold in her tracks. There was the man holding Myka by the throat against the wall. As he was choking the life out of her, he was muttering something into her ear. Even from where HG stood, she heard it to be Russian.
"I'M THE ONE YOU WANT!"
The assaulter swiveled his head upwards, his eyes immediately locking onto her own. HG breath came in a sharp intake as she felt her blood run cold to her heart. This man was no stranger to her. She knew him from many, many, years before overseas in London. He wasn't a close friend nor was he her type and if she had to pick him out a crowd – he wasn't even memorable. The thing she could remember him for were his eyes. Those hardened orbs, the irises such a dark suffocating blue, not even a glimmer of light. They were eyes that had saw too much, whose owners committed sins unspeakable even to the dead. In HG's unconscious state, it was these horrible eyes that kept her company. They served as her surviving fuel and her torture.
Nobody forgot the eyes of their assassin.
HG's hand shot to the knife she kept along her side. She drew the blade so quickly it slashed its casing into tatters. Across from her, the assassin was posed with his mouth frozen mid speech. As he struggled to reclaim his bearings, his expression battled between surprise to something vaguely curious. His hands dropped from the heiress' neck and Myka fell into a coughing mess. Both captor and attacker ignored her however, as their eyes were hot on each other. The attacker took a calculating step forward, his eyes taking in the minuet details of HG's face down to her clothing. HG's pride held her steady, if she moved even a micro of an inch she'd pegged him as a man who would've read that as fear.
"A ghost stands before me." he finally spoke.
He paused to watch her face for any emotion. Nothing. He cocked his head and resumed his walk.
"Did you come to watch me spill this traitor's blood?" He said, thin lips curled upwards as he joked, "It isn't often that one receives the dead as a witness, I'm not too certain about this omen."
Blood dribbled from his nose, some of the bone was visible through the skin, this space had turned slightly blackish as it had begun to clot. That Bering made such nasty work of the man before her, HG was slightly impressed. If only she had finished him.
"Have you no tongue?"
HG flickered to the heiress. Myka was wide eyed and clutching onto a blood smeared file. She was giving her this peculiar pleading expression. Considering HG just saved her life, she hadn't a foggiest idea what it was for. Rolling back to the attacker, HG warily eyed him. If she played her cards right, she could perhaps get some much needed answers. Very carefully, she willed herself to speak.
"Who else was there?" she said.
At the sound of her voice, his features paled and his eyes went cloudy.
"You died that night." he said.
All of the bravado was gone, now was a voice barely above a whisper. HG took advantage of this moment of weakness, she began her own prowl moving counter clock wise. The assassin followed her motion with reluctant feet.
"How many?" she asked.
"I watched as you took your last breathe,"
"More than two?" HG asked.
The assassin shook his head, not in response to her but a memory, "There was so much…so much blood. Nobody survives those types of wounds. Nobody."
"Should I start breaking fingers?"
HG stopped walking as she had cornered the man to the wall. She was a few inches shorter than he yet she was in control. She had bought the dagger to the base of his neck and pressed so the tip was just shy of slicing into his aorta. As for the attacker, he stood stock still and ashen faced. From the way he was holding himself away, HG wasn't sure whether it was to avoid certain death or because he truly did think she was a ghost. Whatever the case, his behavior was annoying her beyond measure.
"I'll only ask you this only once again," HG spoke clear, "Who else was there?"
The assassin wavered.
"We were a group of three. He knew you had training in the arts, so he wanted us to be prepared. Each held a specialty to one of your major weaknesses."
HG blinked.
What three weaknesses?
"What? Who sent you?"
The man carefully locked eyes with her.
"You know." he said.
Patience was never a virtue, HG was ready to slash his throat already. Her face twisted as she went to snap, but the words true meaning fell into place and her rage quickly diminished. Now she was lost in a whole new way. The wounds of betrayal and disbelief had been ripped anew and she could already feel herself spiraling down into a hole.
"Why?" she whispered.
HG saw his hand twitch to his side and in a flash she made her move. The captor swept her arm and smashed it down into the man's side. The utility knife plunged into the man's skin and pierced into his abdomen. With a swift move, she wrenched the knife free and aimed for another strike at his neck. The attacker grabbed her by the wrist and began to squeeze it with all of his might. Pain seared through the fragile bone as HG felt it straining under the pressure. She sprung forwards on her toes gave the attacker a headbutt. The motion caused him to loosen his hold on her wrist and thus HG was able to pull free.
"Myka, hurry!" she yelled.
On the floor, the heiress rolled around and grabbed onto the scattered papers and gear. She was happy that the folder was sealed. After fumbling around for the wallet with the magnetic cards, Myka rose to her feet. She saw HG fighting the strange man outside the vault door. The heiress edged her way between their frenzied motions and pressed herself against the wall.
HG punched him in the head and blood spurted from the man's face. She gnashed her teeth and tried to stab him in the chest with the bloodied utility knife. The blade was moments from piercing into his heart, the attacker grasped her hands tight into his own and pulled her forward.
"The Vulture said you were dead!" his voice rasped.
The dark woman's eyes flashed. If Myka didn't know any better, she would've said that for a briefest of seconds, the other woman looked absolutely terrified. HG wrenched herself from the attacker and she drove the knife into the man's shoulder.
"Well, let you be a message for him and his men."
There was this horrific gush of blood as she gave the knife a deliberate twist. The man yelped but instead of fending HG's attack away, his hands dropped away around his head. Seeing his peculiar reaction, Myka wondered if the woman had aimed for a pressure point.
HG darted her eyes over her shoulder and yelled at the heiress.
"Get that!"
Myka don't know how she knew it, but her hand automatically pressed the button on the elevator and sprang aside. The moment the door slid open, HG flipped the attacker into the space then leaned forwards over him. His eyes lolled in his head but he could see her clear enough. The darker woman was his very own Death Angel. HG dragged the blade across his neck, drawing a line of red. The movement was so swift, his face twisted in surprise as he slumped clutching onto the bleeding artery. Red splashed across the captor's face but she paid no heed. She pushed the rest of him into the elevator and pressed the bottom for the ground floor. Before she could be closed in, she hopped back bumping into the captive.
The captor dark eyes flickered to the other woman only to discover the heiress standing in stunned silence. Myka's green eyes were wide and she looked as if she was going to break. It was such an image, HG was caught in a brief moment of pity.
It must be her first time seeing death.
The darker woman thought. Seeing that Myka wasn't going to move any sooner, HG clutched onto her forearm.
"HURRY!"
HG yanked Myka forward and dragged her down the hall. She pulled the woman over the emergency exit and kicked open the door. By now, Myka returned to reality and was showing signs of protesting, she grabbed onto the banister and clung tight to the area. Her eyes were wide and she was making guttural noises- half screams, half choking- as she was terrified beyond belief for her life.
There was no way she was going with this woman, this lunatic, this, this…
"Bering, don't test me!"
HG snapped and with a shoulder wrenching jerk, flung them both of them down the stairwell. Myka tripped and nearly toppled over, but she pushed on in renewed focus. Their footsteps were rhythmic thumps in their ears as they raced onwards to freedom.
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FIRST person to guess who the Killer man's name is gets written into the upcoming chapter. (clue: He's works for the Regents….)
SECOND, What's something nice to make with Srirracha?
THIRD…Someone was right (don't know who mentioned it but they wrote a fic on here about it) Nigella Lawson totally looks kinda-like Jaime Murray. Or vice versa. Anyway, they should do a show together and punk people out by switching places.
FOURTH…THANKS FOR READING!