Of course they're going to hit Rita. It wouldn't have an impact otherwise. Maketh thins her mouth and breathes through her nose, trying not to hear the impact, the crackle of electricity.
Under normal circumstnaces, pain would be the expected result.
Something else happens. Something twitches in her lizard brain, the instinct that says danger, and Maketh looks.
Rita isn't crying. Isn't yelling or saying anything.
Her eyes are black. Utterly black.
Oh. Oh fuck. There were rumors. There was actionable intelligence that Maketh never had cause to deal with but heard about nonetheless. A bio-weapon from an unexpected source. Dead men brought back hungry.
She tries to sit up with a curse, bringing an arm up to shield her face. "What are you doing??"
"'Examples must be made.'" The guard smirks a little as he says it, reaching with his free hand for a tranquilizer gun at his hip.
Rita's breathing becomes shorter and faster as she loses the fight against the virus's hold. This isn't a real threat. They're just toying with her. They're not going to do to her what her dad did to the zombies on the basement. No, they're just trying to scare Maketh Tua into spilling her secrets, by showing her that monsters are real.
But Rita is not one of them. She won't let them do this to her.
Another strike with the baton, erases her resolve from her mind, her skin going chalky white. Before he gets a third hit in, Rita is lost to the violence in her blood, and she hisses at him, holding his stare until he knows what he's up against.
The man behind her shifts, but her monstrous instincts take over, alert her he intends to make her an easier target for his partner. What a fool. She'll eat him before he gets that far. Ripping her wrists out of his grip, she whirls, ready to strike him--
And the other guard hits her with a tranq dart, square in the back. She falls to the ground in a heap almost at once, and satisfied, the guard stows his weapons.
"Think very carefully on how you're going to play this game, Maketh Tua."
With that, the guards leave, stepping carelessly over Rita's body as they go.
Don't scream. Whatever you do, don't scream, they'll use it against you, it will only hurt more. Keep your eyes open and take your punishment, solder, it's for your own good. The pain makes you sharper and you do want to be the best, don't you?
Maketh scrambles back, hitting the wall. It hurts, but her adrenaline is firing too hard for it to really register. They've locked her in a cell with a fucking monster. This is her punishment. Be useful or get torn apart slowly.
How clever. How fucking clever.
She pulls her knees up to her chest and holds them there, just breathing.
Well. What options does she have now? Wait for Rita to wake up and rip her apart? It's going to be ugly. Maketh knows very well that she's not strong enough to fight back, not hard enough to make it work. She could take her belt off and try to strangle Rita while she's unconscious, but that likely won't be effective. If Rita was exposed to the virus - evidently she was - then she'll be stronger than she ought to be, with a slow heartbeat and deaden sense of pain. Very little is going to even slow her down.
A shotgun, perhaps. Maybe a handgun aimed just so. Certainly not her belt.
"Goddamn," she murmurs. This is an awful mess she's gotten herself into.
The room doesn't answer. Rita, apparently, is still unconscious.
Maketh considers her options. None of them end gently. The Empire is done with her. She failed, she was punished. So it goes. She should have just taken it when the notice came. Someone had to be blamed. It was her fault for running. Now she's going to be snapped in half like a disobedient cadet.
It would have been easier if she'd just taken it head on. They would have killed her quickly, at least. They killed her men quickly.
Maketh thumps her head against the wall.
Well. She has one card left to play. Apparently someone thinks she's useful. That she has information they could take. Given enough time, she'll either give it to them or lose what's left of her mind. Maketh closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing. The last card is to remove herself from the board entirely.
Why not? She's dead already. Whatever these people intend with Rita, it's unlikely Maketh will change anything.
Besides, Rita is smart. Probably clever when sufficiently motivated. And oh, she's been motivated now.
Maketh opens her eyes. Sighs.
This part will be messy. It's going to hurt. She might lose her nerve.
No. Never that. She's always been good at committing.
They took her gun. Her hidden knife, too. But not her teeth.
Maketh exhales roughly. How barbaric. But here they are. Desperate situations, as they say. And wasn't it true that the virus was spread by a bite in the first place?
Maybe that makes this ironic.
She bites down on her good arm, and twists.
There's blood. She bites again. A lot of blood. It hurts.
She lets her mind drift. Lets it go.
And comes back abruptly to find herself being shook hard, hands tight on her wrist and Agent Kallus - that motherfucker - glaring down at her.
"Bastard," she whispers.
Kallus narrows his eyes. "You! Get over here, I need your help."
Rita wakes to the shuffling of boots on the floor and muffled swearing. Why is she on the floor, and why is there a dull sche in her back, in her head? Sitting up slowly, it comes back to her. Guards. Interrogating Maketh. Attacking her, the civilian. Triggering Romero mode. The empty shell of the tranquilizer dart sits at her side. What the hell was in that? She hasn't felt like this... ever, she thinks. Not even her worst hangover was this bad.
She breathes deep and looks up sees a man crouched by Maketh, clear on the ither side of the cell. There's no blood on Rita's hands or tongue, so she knows she didn't manage to harm anyone, but that's still the scent of blood in the air, faint but tempting.
The man calls to her. Rita narrows her eyes.
"What happened." It's a low demand, almost a growl. No one gives her orders. She's just a civilian, even despite her condition. "What can I do to help."
'Nothing,' is the answer, and she wants him to say so himself.
"Hold her still." Despite the situation, his tone remains infuriatingly calm. Maketh always hated that about him. Smug bastard. Always looking down his nose at everyone. Always standing on the high ground. She flails, tries to hit him. He dodges. Doesn't let go of her wrist. It's starting to hurt again, a deep ache she can feel all the way up her arm.
Maketh bares her teeth. "Get off me!"
Kallus doesn't even bother to meet her eyes or dignify this mess with a response. Instead he sits on her and shoves her back against the wall, leveraging with his shoulder so she's pinned. "I need to tie this off before she bleeds out. Hold her still."
Like she's not even there. Motherfucker. Maketh snarls a curse and tries to kick him off.
It's not hard to piece together what happened. There's blood, there's Maketh resisting the man's help, there's the place where Maketh is injured.
Rita almost doesn't move. She shouldn't be near fresh blood right now, not so soon after going Romero. Right? She doesn't know enough about sentient zombies to make a guess, but it seems right.
Then he snaps at her, and the pieces fall into place in Rita's head. Maketh Tua is going to die if left untreated, and there's no reason for that. In fact, Fillmore Graves want her alive, which can only mean that Maketh did this to herself.
Damn. That takes balls.
Admiration can come later, though. Rita gets up and walks across the cell, pinning Maketh back against the wall as soon as the man moves away.
"Shut up, Maketh. I'm not letting you die." She manages to hold back a smirk, and the explanation for the statement: that Maketh could be her ticket out of here.
Despite having the misfortune to be posted at the ass-end of nowhere, Agent Kallus is still at the top of his field. There's no point in dying the facts. He's one of the best at what he does. There's really not much point in fighting him like this. Even at her best, Maketh knows she could never really hurt him in a fight. Not in close quarters, at least. And this is far from her best. The most she can do now is flail stupidly and try to headbutt him because he won't let go.
Smug motherfucker.
Maketh bangs her head against the wall with a curse when Rita moves to hold her back, glaring up at the ceiling. Her arm hurts. She hurts all over but it's different now, a deep ache that feels like it's tunneling straight into her chest. It throbs. She can't really feel her hand and Kallus hasn't let go of her wrist. He's applying a pressure bandage, wrapping it tight. Why he's here at all is a mystery.
Kallus finishes his work efficiently, then leans back. He's till sitting on her. Probably doesn't want to let her up yet. Probably thinks she's being irrational.
Fuck him. See how he likes getting blown up.
Finally he lets go of her wrist, guiding it up to rest against her chest. Even then he doesn't look her in the eye, focusing instead on Rita. "Keep it elevated. Don't let her take the bandage off for at least an hour."
"You fucking bastard," Maketh spits. "Get off me! Why are you even here?"
Again, he addresses Rita and not her. "There's going to be a power outage in three minutes. The parking garage is one floor up. Take my transportation. They won't stop you. Tua knows a safehouse when you're out."
This is a lot to take in after getting shot full of pretty powerful tranquilizer, but Rita manages to focus, to listen to this man. He and Maketh know each other, and clearly their relationship wasn't flower crowns and tea dates.
"They won't stop us?" It's 'us' because he's helping them both. "You're sure of that? I don't know who the fuck you are. What do you want? Who do you work for?"
Ah. So this is car bomb guy. Makes sense why Maketh looks like she'd tear into him if she could.
Rita could break out of here easily given enough time left starving, but the slight chance that she could end up a shambling, angry monster for the rest of her life is wholly unappealing.
There isn't much ceremony. Kallus just hauls her up and pushes her against the wall until he seems convinced she can hold her weight. Maketh snarls, batting his hands away. It hurts but she's upright, she can fucking move. And the door is open. She hadn't noticed that earlier.
This time he meets her eyes. Maketh doesn't know what she sees there. It's not regret. Not kindness, either. They mean nothing to each other, or at least they shouldn't. "Go. I won't help you again."
"Oh, I know."
And with that, Maketh headbutts him as hard as she can.
True to form, he goes down like a rock.
Maketh resists the urge to spit on him.
"Kick him a few times," she suggests, holding her bad arm to her chest. "To make it look real."
Not that she really cares that heavily about who kicks Kallus in the face, so long as its down.
A pity there's not time for more. She'd shave his stupid head. Get rid of those horrid sideburns.
Maketh kicks Kallus just once. She feels something go crunch in his face.
Motherfucker. She hopes that hurts when he wakes up.
Maketh takes a slow breath. Focus, soldier. "All right. He has car. Tinted windows. Decals on the side. If we're quick, they won't realize it's not him."
It's not much of a chance. But they have to try.
Maketh nods just once. "Do what I say and we'll both survive this, all right?"
What a messy revenge. Rita prefers more subtle methods that no one can throw in her face without implicating themselves too.
"They won't realize it isn't him?" She levels a flat stare at Maketh. "Really. They won't be able to tell two women aren't him. Two women, one of whom has white hair." Shaking her head, she sighs. "Sure we'll survive. If you're banking on me raging out to get us out of here, you're shit out of luck, because you'll probably end up dead too. I can't control it."
She could, with practice. She's seen it done. But this is all so new to her that she wouldn't bet on being able to do it at will.
Maketh closes her eyes and breathes through her nose. Focus, soldier. "It's standard procedure. No one can search Imperial vehicles or equipment without proper clearance. Which we don't grant."
If they can get into the truck, that's a start. It's armored and knowing Kallus, probably modified to survive anything short of an aerial bombardment.
She opens her eyes. All right. There's a plan. It's a weak plan, the sort she would have demoted any of her commanders for proposing, but she can't think of anything better. It has to be enough.
"Do you know how to fight?" Maketh ignores the comment about raging out. It's another problem she'll deal with when she needs to.
But whatever. This isn't Rita's area of expertise. If Tua wants to get them killed, she'll play along and met herself rage out and... survive, somehow. Her father will catch wind of this. Better to be his prisoner than Fillmore Graves's.
She starts to move towards the cell door. The power outtage should be happening soon.
At the question, Rita arches an eyebrow. "No." Why should she need to? At least, she didn't used to, when she was human.
Three things happen very quickly then. First, the room goes dark. It takes a second for the emergency lights to kick in, painting everything in a ghoulish red.
Second, the door clicks open.
And finally, the walls tremble. A few floors up, something has exploded. Maketh can hear the echo. A grenade? Perhaps a mechanical malfunction? Either way it's an opportunity. Kallus, damn him, is thorough.
Maketh takes a breath, then curls her fingers back on her good hand, so the hell of her palm is bared. "If someone tries to grab you, make your hand like this, not a fist, and strike up. Hit them in the nose. Do you understand?"
She doesn't mention this will kill whoever Rita strikes. There's no time for a proper lesson anyway.
"I'll do what I can, but I can't fight like this. If it comes to that, you'll have to. All right?"
Rita steps outside the cell as Maketh speaks, looking up and down the red-lit hallway until she sees the door. Okay, she can do this. That method of striking enemies is easy enough. If anyone knows how to fight, it's a soldier. It doesn't matter if she ends up killing people. It'd be self-defense, not murder. She can live with that.
The rest?
"If it gets to that, I won't have a choice." The virus will takenover; she knows it in her slow-beating heart. "Come on. I'm not going to stay here and waste a perfectly good escape opportunity."
And she heads for the door with quick, light steps, grateful these fuckers gave her flats to weat while imprisoned.
Maketh finds herself thankfully, suddenly, that Rita isn't the type to linger over a decision. There's no time. This has to be done now.
So it is.
Maketh limps after her without a word, bad arm clutched to her chest. If she keeps moving, she can ignore the sharp flashes of hurt and the knowledge of what caused them.
Keep going, soldier. You can hurt when you're free.
She eyes the hallway suspiciously. There ought to be guards, but aren't. All the door are open.
"Your friend wasn't messing around," Rita says over her shoulder as they reach the stairwell. "Are you sure he wasn't planning something bigger than a betrayal?"
"He's not my friend," Maketh snaps. Even in the days when she'd been on good terms with Kallus, she'd never called him that. He was a coworker and a man who looked out after his own skin. "I don't know. Possibly he's stealing information as well."
At this point, Rita kees going there because it's entertaining. She doesn't actually care what relationship Maketh and Kallus did or didn't have.
"I wouldn't be sad to see Fillmore Graves go, if he's trying to take them out." Their methods aren't to Rita's taste, even though there's good money in dealong with private military contractors. As long as her father is CEO of Max Rager, though, it's out of her hands.
"There it is." She motions to the door that will lead to Kallus's transport. "Bless their need to meticulously label every door."
That's a problem. Maketh grimaces. It's obvious both of them don't belong. And while the guards might not check the truck, that doesn't solve the problem of getting over there in the first place.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 08:41 pm (UTC)Under normal circumstnaces, pain would be the expected result.
Something else happens. Something twitches in her lizard brain, the instinct that says danger, and Maketh looks.
Rita isn't crying. Isn't yelling or saying anything.
Her eyes are black. Utterly black.
Oh. Oh fuck. There were rumors. There was actionable intelligence that Maketh never had cause to deal with but heard about nonetheless. A bio-weapon from an unexpected source. Dead men brought back hungry.
She tries to sit up with a curse, bringing an arm up to shield her face. "What are you doing??"
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 09:03 pm (UTC)Rita's breathing becomes shorter and faster as she loses the fight against the virus's hold. This isn't a real threat. They're just toying with her. They're not going to do to her what her dad did to the zombies on the basement. No, they're just trying to scare Maketh Tua into spilling her secrets, by showing her that monsters are real.
But Rita is not one of them. She won't let them do this to her.
Another strike with the baton, erases her resolve from her mind, her skin going chalky white. Before he gets a third hit in, Rita is lost to the violence in her blood, and she hisses at him, holding his stare until he knows what he's up against.
The man behind her shifts, but her monstrous instincts take over, alert her he intends to make her an easier target for his partner. What a fool. She'll eat him before he gets that far. Ripping her wrists out of his grip, she whirls, ready to strike him--
And the other guard hits her with a tranq dart, square in the back. She falls to the ground in a heap almost at once, and satisfied, the guard stows his weapons.
"Think very carefully on how you're going to play this game, Maketh Tua."
With that, the guards leave, stepping carelessly over Rita's body as they go.
cw for suicide attempt
Date: 2017-01-02 10:06 pm (UTC)Maketh scrambles back, hitting the wall. It hurts, but her adrenaline is firing too hard for it to really register. They've locked her in a cell with a fucking monster. This is her punishment. Be useful or get torn apart slowly.
How clever. How fucking clever.
She pulls her knees up to her chest and holds them there, just breathing.
Well. What options does she have now? Wait for Rita to wake up and rip her apart? It's going to be ugly. Maketh knows very well that she's not strong enough to fight back, not hard enough to make it work. She could take her belt off and try to strangle Rita while she's unconscious, but that likely won't be effective. If Rita was exposed to the virus - evidently she was - then she'll be stronger than she ought to be, with a slow heartbeat and deaden sense of pain. Very little is going to even slow her down.
A shotgun, perhaps. Maybe a handgun aimed just so. Certainly not her belt.
"Goddamn," she murmurs. This is an awful mess she's gotten herself into.
The room doesn't answer. Rita, apparently, is still unconscious.
Maketh considers her options. None of them end gently. The Empire is done with her. She failed, she was punished. So it goes. She should have just taken it when the notice came. Someone had to be blamed. It was her fault for running. Now she's going to be snapped in half like a disobedient cadet.
It would have been easier if she'd just taken it head on. They would have killed her quickly, at least. They killed her men quickly.
Maketh thumps her head against the wall.
Well. She has one card left to play. Apparently someone thinks she's useful. That she has information they could take. Given enough time, she'll either give it to them or lose what's left of her mind. Maketh closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing. The last card is to remove herself from the board entirely.
Why not? She's dead already. Whatever these people intend with Rita, it's unlikely Maketh will change anything.
Besides, Rita is smart. Probably clever when sufficiently motivated. And oh, she's been motivated now.
Maketh opens her eyes. Sighs.
This part will be messy. It's going to hurt. She might lose her nerve.
No. Never that. She's always been good at committing.
They took her gun. Her hidden knife, too. But not her teeth.
Maketh exhales roughly. How barbaric. But here they are. Desperate situations, as they say. And wasn't it true that the virus was spread by a bite in the first place?
Maybe that makes this ironic.
She bites down on her good arm, and twists.
There's blood. She bites again. A lot of blood. It hurts.
She lets her mind drift. Lets it go.
And comes back abruptly to find herself being shook hard, hands tight on her wrist and Agent Kallus - that motherfucker - glaring down at her.
"Bastard," she whispers.
Kallus narrows his eyes. "You! Get over here, I need your help."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 10:47 pm (UTC)She breathes deep and looks up sees a man crouched by Maketh, clear on the ither side of the cell. There's no blood on Rita's hands or tongue, so she knows she didn't manage to harm anyone, but that's still the scent of blood in the air, faint but tempting.
The man calls to her. Rita narrows her eyes.
"What happened." It's a low demand, almost a growl. No one gives her orders. She's just a civilian, even despite her condition. "What can I do to help."
'Nothing,' is the answer, and she wants him to say so himself.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 10:58 pm (UTC)Maketh bares her teeth. "Get off me!"
Kallus doesn't even bother to meet her eyes or dignify this mess with a response. Instead he sits on her and shoves her back against the wall, leveraging with his shoulder so she's pinned. "I need to tie this off before she bleeds out. Hold her still."
Like she's not even there. Motherfucker. Maketh snarls a curse and tries to kick him off.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 11:31 pm (UTC)Rita almost doesn't move. She shouldn't be near fresh blood right now, not so soon after going Romero. Right? She doesn't know enough about sentient zombies to make a guess, but it seems right.
Then he snaps at her, and the pieces fall into place in Rita's head. Maketh Tua is going to die if left untreated, and there's no reason for that. In fact, Fillmore Graves want her alive, which can only mean that Maketh did this to herself.
Damn. That takes balls.
Admiration can come later, though. Rita gets up and walks across the cell, pinning Maketh back against the wall as soon as the man moves away.
"Shut up, Maketh. I'm not letting you die." She manages to hold back a smirk, and the explanation for the statement: that Maketh could be her ticket out of here.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-02 11:55 pm (UTC)Smug motherfucker.
Maketh bangs her head against the wall with a curse when Rita moves to hold her back, glaring up at the ceiling. Her arm hurts. She hurts all over but it's different now, a deep ache that feels like it's tunneling straight into her chest. It throbs. She can't really feel her hand and Kallus hasn't let go of her wrist. He's applying a pressure bandage, wrapping it tight. Why he's here at all is a mystery.
Kallus finishes his work efficiently, then leans back. He's till sitting on her. Probably doesn't want to let her up yet. Probably thinks she's being irrational.
Fuck him. See how he likes getting blown up.
Finally he lets go of her wrist, guiding it up to rest against her chest. Even then he doesn't look her in the eye, focusing instead on Rita. "Keep it elevated. Don't let her take the bandage off for at least an hour."
"You fucking bastard," Maketh spits. "Get off me! Why are you even here?"
Again, he addresses Rita and not her. "There's going to be a power outage in three minutes. The parking garage is one floor up. Take my transportation. They won't stop you. Tua knows a safehouse when you're out."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-03 01:14 pm (UTC)"They won't stop us?" It's 'us' because he's helping them both. "You're sure of that? I don't know who the fuck you are. What do you want? Who do you work for?"
How can she trust him?
no subject
Date: 2017-01-03 03:12 pm (UTC)Kallus ignores her, addressing Rita again. "No. But I'm giving you a chance. Take it or rot in here. Your choice."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-03 09:10 pm (UTC)Rita could break out of here easily given enough time left starving, but the slight chance that she could end up a shambling, angry monster for the rest of her life is wholly unappealing.
"Fine. Let's go, Tua."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-03 11:08 pm (UTC)This time he meets her eyes. Maketh doesn't know what she sees there. It's not regret. Not kindness, either. They mean nothing to each other, or at least they shouldn't. "Go. I won't help you again."
"Oh, I know."
And with that, Maketh headbutts him as hard as she can.
True to form, he goes down like a rock.
Maketh resists the urge to spit on him.
"Kick him a few times," she suggests, holding her bad arm to her chest. "To make it look real."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-03 11:59 pm (UTC)So Rita can say she did nothing, if this ends up failing.
"He said we can take his transportation. You'll know what it looks like, right? If this is a basement, it'll be easy to get to the first floor."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-04 12:21 am (UTC)Not that she really cares that heavily about who kicks Kallus in the face, so long as its down.
A pity there's not time for more. She'd shave his stupid head. Get rid of those horrid sideburns.
Maketh kicks Kallus just once. She feels something go crunch in his face.
Motherfucker. She hopes that hurts when he wakes up.
Maketh takes a slow breath. Focus, soldier. "All right. He has car. Tinted windows. Decals on the side. If we're quick, they won't realize it's not him."
It's not much of a chance. But they have to try.
Maketh nods just once. "Do what I say and we'll both survive this, all right?"
no subject
Date: 2017-01-04 09:06 pm (UTC)"They won't realize it isn't him?" She levels a flat stare at Maketh. "Really. They won't be able to tell two women aren't him. Two women, one of whom has white hair." Shaking her head, she sighs. "Sure we'll survive. If you're banking on me raging out to get us out of here, you're shit out of luck, because you'll probably end up dead too. I can't control it."
She could, with practice. She's seen it done. But this is all so new to her that she wouldn't bet on being able to do it at will.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-05 04:16 pm (UTC)If they can get into the truck, that's a start. It's armored and knowing Kallus, probably modified to survive anything short of an aerial bombardment.
She opens her eyes. All right. There's a plan. It's a weak plan, the sort she would have demoted any of her commanders for proposing, but she can't think of anything better. It has to be enough.
"Do you know how to fight?" Maketh ignores the comment about raging out. It's another problem she'll deal with when she needs to.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-05 05:00 pm (UTC)But whatever. This isn't Rita's area of expertise. If Tua wants to get them killed, she'll play along and met herself rage out and... survive, somehow. Her father will catch wind of this. Better to be his prisoner than Fillmore Graves's.
She starts to move towards the cell door. The power outtage should be happening soon.
At the question, Rita arches an eyebrow. "No." Why should she need to? At least, she didn't used to, when she was human.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-05 05:18 pm (UTC)Second, the door clicks open.
And finally, the walls tremble. A few floors up, something has exploded. Maketh can hear the echo. A grenade? Perhaps a mechanical malfunction? Either way it's an opportunity. Kallus, damn him, is thorough.
Maketh takes a breath, then curls her fingers back on her good hand, so the hell of her palm is bared. "If someone tries to grab you, make your hand like this, not a fist, and strike up. Hit them in the nose. Do you understand?"
She doesn't mention this will kill whoever Rita strikes. There's no time for a proper lesson anyway.
"I'll do what I can, but I can't fight like this. If it comes to that, you'll have to. All right?"
no subject
Date: 2017-01-05 07:12 pm (UTC)The rest?
"If it gets to that, I won't have a choice." The virus will takenover; she knows it in her slow-beating heart. "Come on. I'm not going to stay here and waste a perfectly good escape opportunity."
And she heads for the door with quick, light steps, grateful these fuckers gave her flats to weat while imprisoned.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-05 07:17 pm (UTC)So it is.
Maketh limps after her without a word, bad arm clutched to her chest. If she keeps moving, she can ignore the sharp flashes of hurt and the knowledge of what caused them.
Keep going, soldier. You can hurt when you're free.
She eyes the hallway suspiciously. There ought to be guards, but aren't. All the door are open.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-06 11:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-06 05:09 pm (UTC)Why waste the opportunity?
no subject
Date: 2017-01-06 06:25 pm (UTC)At this point, Rita kees going there because it's entertaining. She doesn't actually care what relationship Maketh and Kallus did or didn't have.
"I wouldn't be sad to see Fillmore Graves go, if he's trying to take them out." Their methods aren't to Rita's taste, even though there's good money in dealong with private military contractors. As long as her father is CEO of Max Rager, though, it's out of her hands.
"There it is." She motions to the door that will lead to Kallus's transport. "Bless their need to meticulously label every door."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-06 08:32 pm (UTC)Whatever Kallus and the Empire are doing, it's left the halls strangely empty. She'll worry about that later, when she's not trapped.
Maketh limps to the door, checking the sight lines. "All right. I'll need you to drive. I can direct you."
They just need to get past the security checkpoint now. That's the only thing that's left. And once they're inside the truck it shouldn't matter.
God, they're close.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-08 12:10 am (UTC)"Would it be more or less obvious if I carried you past the guards?" Given, you know, the fact that Maketh is very injured.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-08 05:04 pm (UTC)"I'll walk."
She pauses.
"You can survive getting shot, yes?"
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From: