Post by Parker on Nov 15, 2008 9:31:27 GMT -5
Book I
A Violent Crime
A Violent Crime
The door's height increased, knocked off it's hinges by the four-man fire squad's point-man, Oakes Fletcher, flocked together in a square defensive position and breaking away to cover the room. From the outside of the abandoned hotel, bright red sirens washed over by chill blue sirens splashed over windshields, parking meters, and buildings.
The police Captain, Howard Owens, had given up on "negotiation" in his late 20s, his megaphone was sitting, cold and unused, in the back of his personal sedan. Police work had boiled down to two, bittersweet options: Save yourself and shoot the guy, or save the perp and shoot yourself before he shoots you. This kind of purpose gave him less than an enthusiastic approach to things, which is why he could only manage a contorted sneer as a black, hardtop convertible row in through the small opening between the summoned squad cars. The doors flapped open like a drenched bird's wings, three sharply-dressed Sirs stepped out of the vehicle, identities distinguished by the drab coloring of their suits.
"I've already got a squad up there." Owens answered immediately, seeking an exit from involving conversation.
"You were given orders to fall back." the lead-investigator, name unknown, approached him, arms cupped together in an awkward fashion, as if he was holding something.
"Hey...I'm just doing my job. And don't give me any of that jurisdiction crap."
The lead investigator seemed perturbed at this. He breathed and replied in a slow, unconcerned tone, "The orders...were for your protection."
oo
"FREEZE!" Fletcher, backed by Evan, shouted. The barrel of all four weapons pointed at a young, brunette-haired woman sitting in a swivel chair near a desk. Tanner moved closer, cautiously edging towards her until he was in arms-reach.
oo
"Look, I've got two squads up there. We can han-"
A thick, black shadow smashed open the 3rd story window, fumbling through the air before landing with a sickening crunch atop of one of the parked civilian cars, the grey Odyssey regurgitated silver, red-dotted shards of glass as it's roof collapsed. Owens shut his eyes as officers rummaged through the cars to aid the fallen cop, Tanner Madison, a fall from which he was lucky to not be conscious enough to withstand.
"...No Captain. Your men are already dead."
oo
"Evan!" Fletcher wailed, bolting for him as the inhuman tentacles wrestled with him, twisting his head around in an impossible direction, a cruel look of anguish on his face as bullets cut past him. They missed, divided as the Brunette launched herself into the air, concentrating and pulling her legs into a semi-sitting position as Fletcher expunged his entire clip.
Before he could tell WHAT had happened, his vision jerked in the opposite direction, lined by a series of annoying twitches in his neck as he collapsed, defeated, with a heavy, orange sandal stomped into his cheek.
"Shit." she whispered, crouching beside the flipped over desk. She put a finger to her left ear, a small, orb-shaped device was attached to the insides of it.
"Balto. The line was traced, I don't know how." she reported quickly.
"I know. They've cut the hardline. Hightail it to another exit, below you, one street down."
"Will there b-?"
"Yes." the voice responded flatly.
"Damn it."
A moment of silence made her curse mentally, Agents meant certain death if approached or confronted, let alone noticed or seen. But the other side, a dark-skinned man watching carefully over the entire location, knowing well of the potential threat, calmed her, "You have to focus Amira. You can make it. You HAVE to make it."
A throe of armed police officers stormed up the stairway, just below her floor. Amira exited the room, three dim shadows and a bolded set of eyes staring straight at her entered her line of vision, sending her in the opposite direction, up the nearby staircase and onto the fourth floor, breaking down the closest room's door. A window had been left open, and she charged at it, dropping into the fire escape where, far below, a man with a very light, almost lavender suit and dark-tinted shades spotted her.
'Move, Amira, move!' she chanted to herself, pressing onward, up the fire escape, with two of her previous pursuers, regular cops with puny handguns, following her as she leapt up the final ladder onto the rooftop. She refused to look back, dashing across a weathered skylight as a whooshing sound drew her ears behnd her.
A man in a dull purple suit and shades rushed from the fire escape, surprisingly ahead of the cops who now doubled in number and still struggled to keep up. Together, with the agent running at least six paces ahead of them, they all fell witness to Amira, as she focused a great deal of air into a gasp, and curved into the air. Her arms and legs spread widely before folding into her sides as she focused solely on performing the impossible, a 12-meter leap over a gap from one side of the police-occupied street, and onto the small, raised platform. What little shock in her legs dissipated as she reeled into another high-powered gauntlet, this time shortened only by the chimney-sized pallet of bricks glowing before her.
The same, vindictive THUD followed her, all the way from the other building, to the shock of the officers who could not follow, abound with "Whats" and "Impossibles". They couldn't comprehend it, but to the girl trembling behind her hiding spot, it was obvious the agent was limited to discretion. In truth, he could have jumped thirty meters, or maybe forty. In truth, that was even more realistic than the fact that he had just leapt over an entire city street, as she had.
It hit her like a light bulb held directly into her eyes, an opening in the building's structure, leading into a dirty window for the next apartment. It was risky, and the sound of a gun clicking tantalized her, yet she rose, hands held at her face and back, before sprinting madly, distancing herself from the man who, curiously, stood still as the flare from his own weapon refracted off of his shades. The criminal's own reflection appeared in his vision, but he remained still and unshaken.
'I can make it. I can do this.' the thoughts swirled past her upon the final second, and calling all of her stamina to the challenge, she tightened into a missile, eyes clamped together as she flew head-first through the window, glass showering her and painfully cutting whatever portion of her body it could slice.
A sodden staircase awaited her, she tucked into a roll as she tumbled down the stairs, desperately seeking an escape. Both the uncontrolled force of her momentum gave her that, but her fear was dominated by the need of a moment to pause so she could arm herself. She rammed herself against the wall, finally uncurling and landing on her back, a pair of Beretta 85s whipped from their holsters and aimed strictly on the window, not once from where she entered or any higher.
"C'mon. C'mon, get up. Get...up!" she mumbled, easing her fingers and standing up. He had been right, she couldn't afford to die here. She was going to make it, the very thought of death gradually left on the stairs she descended.
oo
"What...THE HELL...was THAT!?" Owens screamed, to no reply from any of his staff, officers and sergeants who were all bewildered by the stunning display they'd seen this very night.
The additional hail of bullets from what only could have been the perp, and an impromptu car crash involving a midnight truck driver and his semi made things no less hectic. It would have been exciting, adrenaline-pumping actually, if the three purple-suited "by the book" fielders hadn't returned, with less than a third of his emergency squad behind them, battered and bruised.
"The suspect has fled to an unknown location via subway. We are lifting the local Police Department all outlying police facilities of their responsibility on this case, please return all of your available men to their stations and homes and send an ambulance as well as morgue workers to tend to any..casualties. That will be all, Captain."
The agent's lip actually made a nerve-rotten grin as he passed the dumbstruck police captain who, given little choice, merely whirled around to ask another, silent question. He turned back towards the injured cop, shot in the waist by a 9mm short round, and covered his burning face with his hand. The Lieutenants snickered amongst themselves, only giving brief glances to the flabbergasted Captain as he questioned clueless officers for advice on simply how to respond to the situation.
