to be nigh impossible if it remains this
tight.
Not knowing what or who the Institute is
reacting to, they’ve been incapable of making a solid plan of any
kind, let alone come up with specific exit strategies. They don’t
even know what they’re hunting, yet. If it’s an item that won’t
make it through the scanners, they could drop it off with Kion’s
mysterious friend. If it’s a person ... well ... it depends if they
get to them in time. The chances of them pulling off a two-man
rescue effort aren’t high. But you learn to be adaptable at ARC,
and if they need to put together a plan on the fly, that’s what
they’ll do.
Worst case scenario: The mission
is unsuccessful and they can’t get back on the tube. Then they’d have to shack up
in the townships here for a while, try to lie low until the dust
clears, and figure out an extraction. Assuming they’re not dead, of
course. There’s no way they can take on the Institute by
themselves, so if they’re beaten to the target, the mission is
over. The best they could hope for then would be information to
take back to ARC.
“Laura, Gabrielle? Welcome to Second City.”
The voice that greets them is polite and soft. It takes a split
second for Serena’s brain to process, and then she’s turning and
smiling what she hopes is a winning smile.
“Oh, yes. Hello. Are you our escort?” Abial’s
voice is soft and simpering. Gross, but effective at blending them
in.
The boy who spoke appears to be
around fifteen, and is impeccably dressed in City fashion, with an
expensive comm unit riding the curve of his upper ear. His features
are interesting. Traces of what could be Korean heritage are
evident in the darkness and angles of his eyes, yet his high nose
is unmistakably European in origin. He
tilts his head and speaks into the comm, the throat mic stuck to
his neck flashing green. As he does so, he makes an ‘A’ with his
fingers, so nonchalantly that it appears he’s merely twisting his
hands in boredom as he chats over the comm.
The A sign – the signal they were told to look
for. But the boy had recognized them with little trouble, it seems.
Do they stand out that much? Had he been told ahead of time who
they are and what they look like? Or have they already given
themselves away?
“Yes, Tomas, I have them. We’ll be around in a
minute.” Serena and Abial blink at each other for a moment,
confused, and then the boy gestures grandiosely toward the street
corner, his black eyes sparkling.
“If you’ll follow me, ladies, our pick up will
be just a moment.”
They obediently hurry after him, Serena still
worrying that they’re doing something to give themselves away. He’s
moving fast, and they almost trot to keep up. Surely that’s going
to attract attention. When he turns the corner and they’re out of
sight of the soldiers, though, he spins on his heel and grins at
them.
“Wotcha, girls. I’m Leaf.” The educated tones
are totally gone, street cant thickening his voice and making him
sound older, if a lot poorer. Serena opens her mouth to speak, but
he holds a finger up, waggling it.
“No time for that. Sol-patrol’s
comin’ around in five, had to bust ya outta there before they come
through. We gotta bit of a walk in front of us. Hope you’re in good
shape!” With that he clips off the earpiece – an elaborate fake,
Serena can now see. Which means no ride is coming. She hesitates,
thinking. Sol-patrol ... Soldier patrol? So they’re already running?
Rolling her eyes at Abial, she starts to speak
again, but the boy is already retreating down the road, and the
dull thud of military boots stepping in time is just audible around
the corner. Serena shuts her mouth with a snap and bolts after the
weird kid, wishing she’d been allowed to wear her boots instead of
flimsy, impractical shoes. She can feel every irregularity in the
street surface, and the burn of blisters forming is already
bothering her.
They travel rapidly, and every
tight.
Not knowing what or who the Institute is
reacting to, they’ve been incapable of making a solid plan of any
kind, let alone come up with specific exit strategies. They don’t
even know what they’re hunting, yet. If it’s an item that won’t
make it through the scanners, they could drop it off with Kion’s
mysterious friend. If it’s a person ... well ... it depends if they
get to them in time. The chances of them pulling off a two-man
rescue effort aren’t high. But you learn to be adaptable at ARC,
and if they need to put together a plan on the fly, that’s what
they’ll do.
Worst case scenario: The mission
is unsuccessful and they can’t get back on the tube. Then they’d have to shack up
in the townships here for a while, try to lie low until the dust
clears, and figure out an extraction. Assuming they’re not dead, of
course. There’s no way they can take on the Institute by
themselves, so if they’re beaten to the target, the mission is
over. The best they could hope for then would be information to
take back to ARC.
“Laura, Gabrielle? Welcome to Second City.”
The voice that greets them is polite and soft. It takes a split
second for Serena’s brain to process, and then she’s turning and
smiling what she hopes is a winning smile.
“Oh, yes. Hello. Are you our escort?” Abial’s
voice is soft and simpering. Gross, but effective at blending them
in.
The boy who spoke appears to be
around fifteen, and is impeccably dressed in City fashion, with an
expensive comm unit riding the curve of his upper ear. His features
are interesting. Traces of what could be Korean heritage are
evident in the darkness and angles of his eyes, yet his high nose
is unmistakably European in origin. He
tilts his head and speaks into the comm, the throat mic stuck to
his neck flashing green. As he does so, he makes an ‘A’ with his
fingers, so nonchalantly that it appears he’s merely twisting his
hands in boredom as he chats over the comm.
The A sign – the signal they were told to look
for. But the boy had recognized them with little trouble, it seems.
Do they stand out that much? Had he been told ahead of time who
they are and what they look like? Or have they already given
themselves away?
“Yes, Tomas, I have them. We’ll be around in a
minute.” Serena and Abial blink at each other for a moment,
confused, and then the boy gestures grandiosely toward the street
corner, his black eyes sparkling.
“If you’ll follow me, ladies, our pick up will
be just a moment.”
They obediently hurry after him, Serena still
worrying that they’re doing something to give themselves away. He’s
moving fast, and they almost trot to keep up. Surely that’s going
to attract attention. When he turns the corner and they’re out of
sight of the soldiers, though, he spins on his heel and grins at
them.
“Wotcha, girls. I’m Leaf.” The educated tones
are totally gone, street cant thickening his voice and making him
sound older, if a lot poorer. Serena opens her mouth to speak, but
he holds a finger up, waggling it.
“No time for that. Sol-patrol’s
comin’ around in five, had to bust ya outta there before they come
through. We gotta bit of a walk in front of us. Hope you’re in good
shape!” With that he clips off the earpiece – an elaborate fake,
Serena can now see. Which means no ride is coming. She hesitates,
thinking. Sol-patrol ... Soldier patrol? So they’re already running?
Rolling her eyes at Abial, she starts to speak
again, but the boy is already retreating down the road, and the
dull thud of military boots stepping in time is just audible around
the corner. Serena shuts her mouth with a snap and bolts after the
weird kid, wishing she’d been allowed to wear her boots instead of
flimsy, impractical shoes. She can feel every irregularity in the
street surface, and the burn of blisters forming is already
bothering her.
They travel rapidly, and every
Similar Books
