.
Back in the clocktower, Jacob rolled through the window, standing up and pulling the hood up over his head. It's a good start, he thought to himself as he tossed the hood to the side. Undoing the fasteners down his chest, he began to pull off his league jacket. As he did so, several crushed rounds fell to the floor, giving off a hollow twinkling sound as the hit. Wincing as he pulled his arms through the sleeves, bruises slowly began to make themselves known; each one was a bullet that the Kevlar in his jacket stopped. Tossing his jacket over to the hook, he hung it up and pulled both batons from behind his back, flicking them out to extend them. Picking up a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the table in front of him, he started wiping down each baton, the blood smearing slightly before washing off. As he worked, he stretched his back, more scars beginning to show themselves. Several bundles of scar tissue stretched across his lower back along with countless lines where it looked like a blade had split his skin. Picking up his batons and holding them up to the light, he eyed his cleaning; finding no visible blood left on them, he sat them down neatly. Grabbing the thick gloves, he used before, he stepped into the elevator and managed to coax it into descending to the bottom floor, the top doors still not wanting to close behind him. Arriving down at the bottom, he walked over into the corner of the room where had had spotted a few cinderblocks sitting, picking up one in each hand and loading them onto the elevator. Back and forth he went till he had managed to move a good half dozen of the blocks. Stepping back into the elevator, he mashed the up arrow and waited as the car wheezed its way back up. Finally making it to the top, Jacob began to haul the blocks out of the car, gathering up a bundle of rope after aligning them how he wanted. Un knotting the rope and slipping it through each one of the blocks, he slipped the longest end around his waist and tied a loose knot. Turning his attention towards the roof and the assembly of the bars, he planned out his path to the top.
Taking a breath and stepping back, careful to make sure the rope was able to follow him as he moved, he leapt up and grabbed hold of a bar. Pulling his body up and swinging on the bar, he launched himself up to the next one, working his way higher and higher every time. Finally making it up to an acceptable height, he did a pullup, lifting his body up and over the bar before curling around it and dropping back down to the floor. With a thud and sending up a cloud of dust, Jacob landed on one foot and one knee, hand reflexively slamming to the floor. Untying the rope while he was kneeling, Jacob stood and started stretching the rope out. Finding a point where the end attached to the cinderblocks was pulled ever so tight, he anchored it to the floor. Spreading his feet to get a good stance, he gave the rope a good test pull. The rope creaked and groaned as he pulled, the cinderblocks tied at the opposing end raising greatly. Ever so slowly, he let them back down, muscles beginning to pull tight and the veins in his arm starting to stand out more. Again, he pulled on the rope, repeating the process several more times before letting the rope release. The blocks hit the floor with a thud, sending up another cloud of dust into the air. Jumping up into the air, he reached up and grabbed hold on a bar with both hands, raising his entire body up till his head was well over the bar. Holding himself there for a few seconds, he slowly began to lower himself back down, mentally counting one. He lifted himself up again, this time when he neared the top, he reversed his grip, now pushing his body up higher until the bar came up to his midsection. After doing several more and lowering himself back down, he dropped down from the bar, immediately going into a pushup stance. The SCPD radio interrupted him by the time he had reached the count of fifty, the sound of several officers talking all at once beginning to spill over the speakers from his laptop.
"DC52 in pursuit, shots fire, shots fired! I say again Delta Charlie 52 in pursuit! Officer requests assistance!"
"I see you fifty-two, DC38 coming up from the west, continuing south bound on Lincoln."
Bounding up from his position, he snatched up his jacket and pulled it on, fingers deftly working the fasteners as he moved through the room. Grabbing up his quiver and slinging it over his back, he snatched up his bow and headed out onto the rooftops.
After crossing several spans of rooftops, he managed to find the trail of the pursuing officers, the flickering red and blue of a patrol car coming into view as he leaned over the edge. The officer's car had several bullet holes in the hood, with steam pouring out. Apparently, whoever the SCPD were chasing, had managed to shoot out their radiator, effectively disabling at least one of their pursuers. Looking farther south, he could see more flashing lights. Sprinting in that direction as fast as he could, he managed to see the fleeing vehicles. After some time and a few twists and turns onto separating rooftops, he managed to get ahead of the fleeing vehicle as it tried to double back around. From where he stood, he could see the car coming down the street in his direction, with two people inside. One was shooting out of the back window, broken glass creating a jagged border from where the rear windshield used to be while the other drove. As the remaining SCPD vehicle continued to follow, he could hear the shots ringing out as they fired back, watching as the officer weaved and attempted to dodge.
Pulling an arrow out of his quiver and knocking it on the string of his bow, he raised it and judged the distance between himself and the target. With a quick pull to the string, he loosed the arrow and watched as it flew through the air. The arrow silently cut through the air, careening towards the oncoming car.
The rear thug continued to fire at the pursuing SCPD officer, laughing and shooting wildly before his hand was suddenly pinned to the back of the seat. With a startled scream, the shooter dropped his gun and started wrenching on the arrow.
"Holy Shit!" the shooter screamed, yanking on the arrow shaft and yelling.
Jacob grinned to himself, the sound of the criminal's screams wafting up to him on the rooftop. He continued watching as his partner reached behind him to try and help pull the arrow out, only to succeed in swerving right into a parked car. With a resounding crash and a bright shower of sparks, the fleeing vehicle bounced off the parked car, the driver snapping his head back around to swerve back onto the road. Reacting quickly, Jacob pulled another arrow free, knocked and fired at a streetlight in front of the car. With a small explosion, the lights began to shatter, sending a spark of multicolored light down into the street before the metal gave way. The streetlight fell to the road, making the vehicle swerve again and heading down a side street. Jacob looked over his shoulder to see the flashing red and blue lights following still, deciding to take off down the rooftop and getting back to the opposite side overlooking the next road. The driver of the stolen car took another right, coming off of the side street and getting back onto the main road. Jacob launched another arrow, causing another streetlight to fall before jumping off the building and running out into the next road. The car again swerved, this time barreling straight for Jacob as he stood in the center.
"Who the hell is that?" the man with the pinned arm yelled, pointing up at the figure standing in the road.
"Doesn't matter," the driver laughed, slamming his foot down harder on the accelerator. "They're in the way."
Jacob calmly pulled another arrow from his quiver, raised his bow and fired. The arrow slammed into the top of the cars hood, sending up a shower of sparks, engine dying out with a sputter. Taking a step to the side, Jacob watched as the car slammed into a parked car, decimating the car and bringing the fleeing vehicle to a complete stop with a crash. Walking up to the vehicle, bow drawn, Jacob saw that the driver had been knocked unconscious, the man's body slumped over the steering wheel with a gash across his forehead. Moving closer, he noticed something move before a weapon was being raised in his direction. Without thinking, he released the arrow, slicing through the man's forearm and pinning it to the ruined upholstery. The man let loose another wounded howl, screaming in pain as Jacob turned to walk away.
Facing the other side of the street and heading in that direction, the tailing SCPD vehicle finally managed to catch up, screeching to a halt a few yards from where Jacob now stood. The officer practically leapt up out of his seat, raising his weapon and pointing it directly at Jacobs chest.
"Freeze!" The officer called, resting his arms on the door of his car and aiming carefully at Jacob, who in turn ignored him and kept moving. "I said hold it!"
"Your job is done," Jacob called as he stopped, his voice modulator crackling. "Take the collar and go."
"You Vigilantes aren't the law," The officer shot back, coming out from around the car door. "Now, turn around."
Jacob slowly turned around, raising the bow string upward.
"No one was killed, I did your job for you," Jacob sighed.
"You damn near killed them!" The officer yelled, looking from Jacob to the criminals in the car, the one still screaming.
"They'll live," Jacob shrugged, the movement bringing both the officers gaze along with his weapon back to pointing at his chest.
"I'm taking you in as well," The officer went on, transferring his weapon to a one-handed grip before reaching behind his back for a pair of handcuffs.
"No, you're not," Jacob stated simply, before twitching his bow hand.
With a clink, a tiny metal orb hit the ground, sending off a massive puff of smoke and filling the air as it did so. Surprised by the sudden movement, the officer squeezed his trigger once before shielding his eyes. Coughing and raising his hands to his eyes, the officer turned away, waving his gun hand to try and clear some of the smoke. A few seconds later, the breeze managed to blow away the remnants, the officer shielding himself to find that Jacob had disappeared. Cursing low, the officer grabbed his mike off his shoulder.
"Dispatch this is Delta Charlie fifty-two," he groaned, pushing the button and getting a responsive chirp. "I'm gonna need an EMS team for apprehension."
"Dispatch copies, is everything alright fifty-two."
"Just another wackjob in a mask trying to run the city," he called back, walking over to the ruined car and fishing out his handcuffs.
Several blocks away, Jacob stumbled down an alleyway, lurching from side to side as he did so. The pain in his upper chest radiated down through his arm, running down alongside the streams of blood. Making his way slowly along the wall, he came to a glass window, looking inside and spying what looked to be a small run-down clinic. Pulling his good arm back, he smashed in the glass with hi elbow, clearing the shards away with his hand before pulling himself through. Rolling through the actual windowsill and collapsing onto the floor, he groaned. With some minor difficulty, he managed to push his way up, grabbing ahold of what he hoped was a clean operating table and pulling himself into a standing position. Looking around the room, he spotted a locked medicine cabinet on the far wall, stumbling over and pulling out his pouch of lockpicks as he went. His fingers fumbling over the pieces as he went to pull them out, he leaned close to the lock. In a matter of seconds, the locked clicked open and he ripped it from the latch. Sorting through the different bottle, he managed to find two plastic bottles of what he was looking for, along with another glass bottle that he hoped was the right thing. As he sat them on the counter beside him, he heard something move. Suddenly the overhead lights flicked on, causing his eyes to dilate and forcing him to freeze, ready to fight.
"That's far enough right there," Came a British voice. "Do you know how hard it is to get hold of morphine these days?"
"More than you would think," Jacob groaned, his modulated voice crackling as he groaned.
"Turn around, slowly," The voice called again.
Jacob silently complied, turning around with his hands slightly raised, blood running back up his sleeve. Looking up, he found a tall, well built man holding what looked like a Walther PPK pointed directly at him.
"Levaquin, epinephrine and morphine," the man read off the bottles sitting on the counter behind Jacob. "Well I must admit, you're not exactly the usual type to be breaking into my clinic. Judging by that hole in your chest, probably the best move you've made."
"Just a minor misunderstanding with a jumpy SCPD officer," Jacob grunted, hands starting to lower slightly.
"I can hardly blame them," the man chuckled, nodding to him. "That mask is downright dreadful."
Jacob frowned behind his mask, knowing full well the man couldn't see it. A moment of silence passed between the who, the gun never wavering.
"If you're going to live, you should let me patch you up right," The man sighed, setting the gun down on the counter beside him and moving to take a step forward.
"Can't let you do that," Jacob groaned, twitching and sending a dart flying directly towards the man's upper shoulder.
The man surprised Jacob, moving quicker than he had expected as he ducked down and then snapped back up, grabbing the gun from the counter. Looking ahead, the man frowned as he pulled the gun back up; Jacob had disappeared along with the three bottles of medication. With a sigh, the man lowered the gun, walking over and shutting the cabinet before retrieving the lock and clicking it back shut. Setting the gun down on a nearby table, he retrieved a tarp and began to hang it over the broken window, muttering to himself.
As the rain poured down outside, the crack of thunder reverberating through the air, Jacob rolled through the window of the clocktower. With a thud and a groan, he hit the floor and sat for a minute, blood starting to drip down to the floor leaving a trail. Standing up, with great protest from his muscles, he practically dragged himself over to the table. Gently pulling all three bottles out of his jacket, he sat them down along with several needles. Walking over to his bag, he retrieved a rolled-up section of leather, untying the knot on the side and letting it unfurl onto the table. Inside were a series of bright silver instruments ranging from the smallest knife to an extracting tool. With shaking fingers, he pulled the extracting tool and one of the smallest knives free and set them aside. Mentally arguing with himself, he began to undo the fasteners on his jacket, shrugging it off and tossing it aside as he looked down at the bullet hole. With a groan, he reached behind him as best he could with his opposing arm and felt for a second. No exit wound, he thought with a sigh, gotta get the bullet out. Taking a breath and grabbing the extractor, he pressed it deep into the wound till he felt it tap against the bullet. With a steadying breath, he pushed on the handles, spreading the opposing end inside his shoulder before pushing it deeper. Letting the tool close, he squeezed it as hard as he could and began manipulating it out of his body. After a few minutes of excruciating pain, he managed to remove the bullet, the blood now trickling out of the wound and starting to roll down his chest faster. Grabbing up two rolls of white bandage, he folded a few layers over the wound, making sure to pack the absorbing material deep into the wound as he could. With the rest, he managed to loop it around his shoulder enough that it held pressure to his chest. Trying to move his left arm as little as possible, he grabbed up one of the needles, ripped the paper and plastic wrapper off it and started measuring out a dose of Levaquin from the bottle. Without a second's hesitation, he stabbed the needle into his shoulder and pressed on the plunger, sighing as he felt the liquid begin to disperse in his body. Chucking that needle away, he grabbed up the second, unwrapping it rather hastily and almost losing it. Snatching it up and managing to not fall over, he picked up the bottle of morphine and measured out an exaggerated dose. Injecting himself just underneath of the first needle, he pushed the plunger and tossed the needle aside. The effects were almost instantaneous, the pain started to subside causing him to suddenly tilt to one side. His hands tried to brace on the table, but he moved to sluggishly. With a groan and a thud, he fell to the ground. His vision started to blur before everything turned to black, enveloping him in a warm silent bubble.
Nanda Parbat, Sometime 2017
Jacob stood in a circle of league members, all covered in the same gear, simple tunics made from a simple cloth and dark pants. Clutched between both of his hands was a wooden staff, the other members holding wooden swords in various shapes. At first only one or two rushed at him at a time, the rest watching as he handled his opponents. After a short time, or if one was subdued, another would step up into his or her place, until finally, each member of the circle was included in the combat training. Jacob managed to handle himself well, taking on the first five with only various contacts to his body. When the numbers increased, so did the marks on his body; each member did not seam to lighten up, leaving red marks from where their weapons contacted skin. The training commenced until Jacob was defeated, leaving him beaten, bloody and unconscious in the sand beneath their feet.
A bucket of ice water was thrown onto his body, brining him back to consciousness and finding him now tied to a chair in a dim lit room. This time, only a handful of league members were with him, one being the brunette from his original meeting, Al'Faar.
"You are awake now," she stated, pacing around him as she indicated for the holder of the bucket to drop it and back off. "Good."
"Where am I?" Jacob groaned, blinking his eyes and trying to focus, his head throbbing.
"Where is not important," Al'Faar dismissed with a wave of her hand. "You are tied to a chair and tasked with escaping it. How you escape is unimportant, only the matter of doing and how long it takes you."
With that, she nodded to the other members before turning and walking out of the room, leaving Jacob alone in the dim by himself. Shaking his head and grunting, he started to twist and writhe in his bonds, rocking so much that he managed to knock himself over, chair and all.
Perfect, he thought to himself, exhaling and sending up a small cloud of dust.
Al'Faar stood on the opposite side of the door, holding a small hourglass in her hands, watching as each grain of sand slowly trickled through. When the glass was nearing empty, after two full rotations, she heard a thumping sound against the door. Smiling to herself, she nodded to the last league member who had stayed behind with her, the person wrenching open the bolts on the outside and swinging the door open. The light from the corridor lit up the entrance of the room, revealing Jacob standing just inside. Around his wrists were the bindings that held him to the chair, along with pieces of what she saw were the chair. Looking around him, she saw the rest of the pieces.
"You broke the chair," she stated flatly, eyes coming to rest on him and taking note of his flustered face.
"I escaped the chair," He corrected, a grin starting to form at the edges of his mouth. "How I escaped was unimportant."
She looked down at his arms, finding small scrapes and a tiny trickle of blood running down them both.
"That is acceptable," she nodded before producing the hourglass and showing it to him. "But you took too long. Two and a half rotations. You will do better next time."
Jacob sighed and nodded his head, holding his arms forward and silently asking for them to cut him free.
With a quick movement of her off hand, Al'Faar produced a dagger and sliced the bonds free from his wrists. After smiling quickly, she turned and beckoned him to follow her, leading him throughout the twisting corridors of the hidden city. Farther and farther they walked, the blood on his arms beginning to dry and crust on his skin before they turned a corner and stopped in front of another door. Wrenching on the handle, Al'Faar pushed it open, revealing the original place that they had brought his body to heal. The door shut behind them as they moved inside
Star City, October 2017
The sun was completely up and shining through the glass face of the clocktower as Jacob groaned. Rolling to his side and wincing, he sat up, eyes blinking in the daylight. With a grunt, he stood up and pealed at the dressing on his wound. Finding it completely soaked through with blood, he gently removed it. Chucking the soiled bandage away, he picked up a small kit containing a curved needle and surgical grade thread and set the two side. He unwound the thread, just enough that he could hold onto it without dropping and picked up the needle. After a few mishaps, he managed to thread it before unspooling some more. Taking a decent length away, he snipped through it with his teeth before tying the ends together in a knot. With a deep breath, he pushed the needle through his skin, a small drop of blood beginning to form as he pushed it through the opposing side of the wound. Ignoring the fresh pain, he pulled the wound together as best he could, holding it as he repeated the process. In a matter of minutes, he had managed to pull the wound closer together, almost shut. The blood began to well up more after the final stitch, making him work faster. Finally tying a knot in the thread, he bent his neck down and severed the thread from the needle, grabbing up another set of bandages and looping them around. Making quick work of it, he managed to put enough pressure down on the wound where he could both move and stop the bleeding. Stretching his arms up and over his head, he tested his range of motion, making sure the bandage didn't slip. Satisfied, he grunted, dropping both his arms before walking over to his jacket and picking it up. Turning it around so he could see the bullet hole, he poked his finger through it and sighed. How the hell do I fix that? He asked himself, turning it over and over in his hands. With an irritated grunt, he hung it back up neatly before walking over to where his bed roll lay. Sitting down, he picked up his laptop, flipped it open and began searching through the SCPD files, determined to find something.
City Hall, Star City
Oliver Queen sat reclined back in a leather padded chair, a look of boredom on his face as he tried to fight off sleep. Across from him sat two balding men, each continually trying to talk over the other, their words becoming intermingled into a mass of white noise. Waving their hands and talking wildly, Oliver sat and watched them, growing more and more irritated as the conversation went on.
A knock on the door was barely heard over the two arguing as Quinten Lance poked his head around. His lips moved to say something, but the sound was lost in the argument. With a wave of his hand, Quinten signaled to Oliver to come over to him.
"Gentleman, excuse me," Oliver grunted, not caring if the two heard him at all before standing up. Buttoning the bottom two buttons of his suit jacket, he walked over to where Quinten stood.
"Felicity has news," Quinten muttered in a low voice, speaking close to Oliver's ear. "You need to get away."
"Right," Oliver sighed, relief spreading across his face as a small smile made its way forth. Turning around and holding up his arms, he turned the volume up on his voice.
"Gentleman!" he called, the sudden louder voice making both the balding men cease their bickering. "Unfortunately, there is a pressing matter I need to attend to."
"Mr. Mayor!" the first interjected, standing up and looking annoyed.
"Mayor Queen we really should…" the second started before Oliver cut him off with a look.
"Guys please," Oliver said firmly, waving his hands low in front of him. "See my receptionist and we will reschedule as soon as I have available."
Before the two men could offer and rebuke, he turned around and slipped past Quinten, rushing past the door and catching the elevator at the end of the hall before it could close.
The two balding men tried to walk after Oliver, with Quinten cutting them off and blocking their way.
"Now listen gentleman," Quinten growled, holding up his hands palms towards their chest. "The mayor is busy, I advise you to do as he says, talk to Kelly at the reception desk and reschedule."
Simultaneously, the two men started talking over each other, attempting to argue with Quinten who stood firm. With a roll of his eyes, Quinten grunted and let the two men argue, not caring what they had to say.
Down in the bunker, Felicity sat in her computer chair, hair pulled up in a hasty bun with a few strands dangling down her face. As the elevator dinged, she looked up and over at Oliver as he walked out.
"I thought you were in a meeting?" She called, frowning at him.
"Lance pulled me away, thankfully" he responded, walking up to the platform and taking a quick hop up the steps. "What've you got?"
"A lot actually," she nodded, scooting her chair over to another monitor and tapping on the screen twice, a folder opening and sending a series of images up to the main screen. One of those images was a picture of a bird with its wings stretched out, showing its dark black plumage and shimmering head.
"It's a bird feather," she went on, waving at the screen as the images began to cycle. "It's a rare black bird from the southern reaches of Tasmania."
"What's a bird feather from Tasmania doing here in Star City?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest and frowning at her.
"No idea," she shrugged, looking back at the screen and flicking the images around. "Now there was a fingerprint on the stem, but I couldn't get a match. In any database, ARGUS, Interpol, nada."
"Is that all?"
"No," she shook her head, sending the strands of hair down her face rocking side to side. "I found a cellphone video from the diner; don't you just love the digital age?"
When he didn't answer, she rolled her eyes and tapped the screen again, this time pulling up the cellphone video she had mentioned. The video started out shaky, the person who filmed it was obviously terrified. Oliver stood and watched as the person filmed the altercation, watching as the robber pointed the gun at his back before slamming the robbers face on the counter. Oliver's grew slightly wider, giving away that he was slightly impressed. The video continued, watching as the man moved through the diner, hands raised high and talking to the second robber. After a few seconds, he watched as the gun was stripped from the second robbers' hands and was knocked out with it.
"Freeze it," he muttered to Felicity as he stepped closer to the monitor and peered at the screen. "He's fast, and those are clearly league moves."
"That's not the best part," Felicity laughed, clicking on another window and bringing up what looked like a CCTV camera, rolling another film. "Granted the film quality isn't the greatest, but watch."
Oliver said nothing, merely nodded as she tapped a play button. The video was indeed of lesser quality, the footage jumping with lines scrolling across the screen on occasion. The scene from the inlet with the drug dealers played out, coming across slightly choppy as well. When the final thug was dispatched, Oliver's eyes grew even wider.
"Does that's remind you of anyone?" Felicity asked, looking up at his face from her chair. "League gear, twin batons, is that…."
"Call Sara," Oliver said, picking up his phone and tapping two buttons on the screen.
Within a few seconds, the phone was ringing before he heard Sara's voice answer.
"Hey, Ollie," she spoke, her voice sounding genuinely happy.
"Sara, where are you exactly?" He asked, beginning to pace around the raised platform.
"The Temporal Zone," she replied, voice losing the happy tone and taking one of concern. "Why?"
"I'm looking at a video of someone that resembles you, your fighting stance, even your old rockets hat," He went on, turning towards the screen and staring at the man. "Have you been in Star City anytime in the last forty-eight hours?"
"No," she sighed. "I would've let you guys know, maybe even had dinner with my dad."
"Then we have a problem," he groaned.
"Do I need to come home?" she asked, the concern in her voice beginning to grow.
"No," he answered roughly, shaking his head. "We'll handle it."
"Alright," she sighed again, the sounds of her pacing on a metallic floor beginning to echo over the phone. "Let me know if that changes."
Without replying, Oliver shut his phone and walked over towards his equipment rack. With an irritated look, he picked up his bow and turned towards his suit, loosing his tie as he did so.
The Waverider, The Temporal Zone, Time Unknown
With a grunt, Sara took the phone away from her ear, frowning when she saw the call ended message blinking back at her. Tracing her finger across the screen, she started flipping through her contacts, taking a breath as she highlighted a certain number. Her thumb hesitated over the green button before she closed her eyes, shook her head and pushed down. Two rings later, and the person on the other side of the line answered.
"Hello beloved," came a female's voice, a hint of an accent coming through and warming Sara's heart.
"Where is he?" She asked, trying to shake the feeling from her body.
"Whom are you referring to? The female on the other end answered again.
"Don't play games with me Nyssa," Sara growled, becoming increasingly frustrated. "Tell me where he is."
"Unfortunately, we have not been able to locate Al'Shahurur for many days," Nyssa replied coolly.
"….and that doesn't warrant a phone call?" Sara growled again, this time almost shouting at her.
"I am not a caretaker or your nanny, Ta-er Al'Sahfer," Nyssa answered, her voice losing her normal calm and taking on a threatening tone.
"He's my nephew dammit!" Sara yelled, her voice echoing off the metal around her and down the hall.
"Is that all he is to you?" Nyssa asked instantly, voice still the same pitch.
Her reply made Sara freeze, blinking to herself rapidly and finding herself completely caught off guard.
"He's still my responsibility," she replied after a few minutes, forcing herself to calm her voice.
"He is a grown man," Nyssa warned. "He has never failed to return from a mission or task, he will return."
Without so much as a goodbye, the phone clicked dead, leaving Sara standing in the empty corridor. After sighing to herself and shaking her head, she pushed back her hair on her forehead. What the hell am I supposed to do now? She mentally asked herself, beginning to pace around the corridor, the sound of her footsteps echoing off the metal beneath her feet. Dammit kid! She screamed to herself, dropping her hands and begging to walk forwards, towards the jump bay.
"Gideon," she called out as she walked, knowing full well the A.I. had heard the entire conversation. "Prep the jump ship, I'm going home."
"Yes, Captain," Came the computerized woman's reply as Sara continued forwards, a look of determination spreading across her face.