14-04-2019, 12:28 PM
The nebula on the viewscreen seemed to be clearing. We were still in a cloud of pink gas and electricity, but it seemed like the fog was clearing up. The ship began to move forward.
"I'm not doing anything." Suzy-Ho said, her hands raised away from the controls.
"It's part of me, just like you ladies." I said. "I think it's trying to help, too. Let's just go with it."
We journeyed on.
* * *
Mander shoved the flaming card table that had served as their better-than-nothing protection against the fireball away from them and stood up. The body of whomever had been wearing the helmet was now on fire, as were a number of crates around him.
Helen pulled her Ruger LC9 pistol out of her purse, Mander drew his Desert Eagle, and they made their way into the maze of crates, trying to get away from the flames and smoke. Mander checked his phone at the same time.
"Fucking prick put a firebomb on that guy's head! And his jamming thing's still goin'. Not getting anything."
Helen looked at the black smoke rising up to the warehouse ceiling.
"The fumes from the cheap plastic will probably poison us before the fire gets to us."
She ran through the stacks of crates, trying to recall the path they took to get to the center of them. The fire continued to spread, popping sounds echoing as the flames burned through the wood of the crates and the cardboard boxes inside, packing material within exploding.
Helen thought she heard more popping sounds coming from outside, but then recognized it as gunfire instead.
"Sounds like the Ultimados are here." She told Mander. "Or Whyte's ambush. Someone's shooting out there."
She found her way to the side door that they'd entered through and slammed her entire body against the bar to open it. Her shoulder reminded her that it'd only just healed recently from her attack as she staggered back.
"Thought they might lock it. Was worth a try."
The light from the flames growing closer illuminated the shadowy entrance they'd come through before, and now a set of stairs leading to an upper level could be seen against the wall, the Chinese characters for "Supervisor" painted on the wall next to them. Helen pointed to them with her pistol.
"Smoke rises, Your Countessness." Mander said, crouching; the smoke not yet making him cough, but recognizing that his height may be a disadvantage there.
"Supervisors have offices." Helena said as she made for them. "Offices have windows."
She took the stairs two-at-a-time, Mander following, until she came to a plate-glass door. She didn't bother trying to read the name stenciled on the door in the firelight before turning her head and motioning for Mander to do the same as she pointed her pistol at the door, then fired twice.
Helen heard the sound of the gunfire outside grow louder and took it as a hopeful sign. She stepped through the now-empty doorway, glass crunching beneath her shoes, and checked the room. Behind a wooden desk and chair were a series of windows that almost ran the width of the building. Helen's shots had put holes in a couple of them already. Mander motioned for Helen to get behind the desk, then picked up the wooden chair and hurled it through a pair of them.
Glass and wood rained down on the back alley below as Mander checked out the window. The alley was dark, with a chain-link fence around the parking lot of another business behind it, and muzzle flashes and gunfire could be seen and heard coming from one end of the building. The rest of the alley continued into darkness. Mander looked down below and over at the people shooting.
"There's dumpsters, I can lower ya down, but we're on the wrong side of the shooting here. Whyte's boys're between us and the Ultimados."
Helen flipped the safety on her Ruger, stuck it in her purse, and hefted it onto her shoulder. She looked down at the street below, and began climbing out the window, Mander taking hold of her arms to help her down.
She looked down the alley where the fighting was going on. Six men with assault rifles were taking turns shooting and hiding around the corner to reload. Helen figured that they wouldn't be able to hear the noise they'd been making trying to escape, but all any of the mercs would have to do is turn their heads to see them.
Helen looked down to see how far she'd have to drop to make it onto the lid of the dumpster. At least three feet, but having all of her weight supported by her arms was making her shoulder injury flare up. She nodded to Mander to let go, bending her legs as she fell, so her knees would take the impact onto the angled plastic lid. As she slid off of it, she heard her dress ripping from twisting and rolling in ways that Vera Wang never designed it to be worn for, feeling tiny cuts from the glass on the ground. She was unable to suppress a yelp of pain as her bruised thigh impacted with the ground, but if any of the mercenaries could hear, they didn't acknowledge it.
Helen crouched behind the dumpster and thought about the situation as Mander climbed down. She took out her pistol and checked her phone. Still no signal. No way to let the Ultimados know where she was.
"I'm not doing anything." Suzy-Ho said, her hands raised away from the controls.
"It's part of me, just like you ladies." I said. "I think it's trying to help, too. Let's just go with it."
We journeyed on.
* * *
Mander shoved the flaming card table that had served as their better-than-nothing protection against the fireball away from them and stood up. The body of whomever had been wearing the helmet was now on fire, as were a number of crates around him.
Helen pulled her Ruger LC9 pistol out of her purse, Mander drew his Desert Eagle, and they made their way into the maze of crates, trying to get away from the flames and smoke. Mander checked his phone at the same time.
"Fucking prick put a firebomb on that guy's head! And his jamming thing's still goin'. Not getting anything."
Helen looked at the black smoke rising up to the warehouse ceiling.
"The fumes from the cheap plastic will probably poison us before the fire gets to us."
She ran through the stacks of crates, trying to recall the path they took to get to the center of them. The fire continued to spread, popping sounds echoing as the flames burned through the wood of the crates and the cardboard boxes inside, packing material within exploding.
Helen thought she heard more popping sounds coming from outside, but then recognized it as gunfire instead.
"Sounds like the Ultimados are here." She told Mander. "Or Whyte's ambush. Someone's shooting out there."
She found her way to the side door that they'd entered through and slammed her entire body against the bar to open it. Her shoulder reminded her that it'd only just healed recently from her attack as she staggered back.
"Thought they might lock it. Was worth a try."
The light from the flames growing closer illuminated the shadowy entrance they'd come through before, and now a set of stairs leading to an upper level could be seen against the wall, the Chinese characters for "Supervisor" painted on the wall next to them. Helen pointed to them with her pistol.
"Smoke rises, Your Countessness." Mander said, crouching; the smoke not yet making him cough, but recognizing that his height may be a disadvantage there.
"Supervisors have offices." Helena said as she made for them. "Offices have windows."
She took the stairs two-at-a-time, Mander following, until she came to a plate-glass door. She didn't bother trying to read the name stenciled on the door in the firelight before turning her head and motioning for Mander to do the same as she pointed her pistol at the door, then fired twice.
Helen heard the sound of the gunfire outside grow louder and took it as a hopeful sign. She stepped through the now-empty doorway, glass crunching beneath her shoes, and checked the room. Behind a wooden desk and chair were a series of windows that almost ran the width of the building. Helen's shots had put holes in a couple of them already. Mander motioned for Helen to get behind the desk, then picked up the wooden chair and hurled it through a pair of them.
Glass and wood rained down on the back alley below as Mander checked out the window. The alley was dark, with a chain-link fence around the parking lot of another business behind it, and muzzle flashes and gunfire could be seen and heard coming from one end of the building. The rest of the alley continued into darkness. Mander looked down below and over at the people shooting.
"There's dumpsters, I can lower ya down, but we're on the wrong side of the shooting here. Whyte's boys're between us and the Ultimados."
Helen flipped the safety on her Ruger, stuck it in her purse, and hefted it onto her shoulder. She looked down at the street below, and began climbing out the window, Mander taking hold of her arms to help her down.
She looked down the alley where the fighting was going on. Six men with assault rifles were taking turns shooting and hiding around the corner to reload. Helen figured that they wouldn't be able to hear the noise they'd been making trying to escape, but all any of the mercs would have to do is turn their heads to see them.
Helen looked down to see how far she'd have to drop to make it onto the lid of the dumpster. At least three feet, but having all of her weight supported by her arms was making her shoulder injury flare up. She nodded to Mander to let go, bending her legs as she fell, so her knees would take the impact onto the angled plastic lid. As she slid off of it, she heard her dress ripping from twisting and rolling in ways that Vera Wang never designed it to be worn for, feeling tiny cuts from the glass on the ground. She was unable to suppress a yelp of pain as her bruised thigh impacted with the ground, but if any of the mercenaries could hear, they didn't acknowledge it.
Helen crouched behind the dumpster and thought about the situation as Mander climbed down. She took out her pistol and checked her phone. Still no signal. No way to let the Ultimados know where she was.
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