On The Run - The Escape

[Bianca Bartlett]

*Bianca woke to the peaceful pull of the rolling trucks wheels beneath her. She had no idea how long she had been out for, but judging by the incredibly diminished feel of her headache, she had to guess it had been a couple of hours. Opening her eyes, she looked around to see she had been sprawled out in what appeared to be the back of a trucks cab. Athalia was beside her, and as she sat up she saw Tanasha was sitting in the passenger seat beside the truck driver who was behind the wheel. Dolly Parton was on the radio, least she thought it was the radio. She couldn’t imagine a big trucker dude having “Here you come again” on CD but these days, you could never be too sure.

Holding the side of her head, Bianca looked over at Athalia, her voice barely above a whisper.

~So, I’m taking it that we are trusting this guy then, eh? How long have we been on the road?~

She turned around to check the progress of the white van behind them, but was hindered by the back cabin of the truck which blocked her view. Bianca had no idea what the truck was hauling, hell she didn’t even know what their drivers name was, and the whole thing made her feel rather uncomfortable. Still, she guessed it was a better situation than the one they had found themselves in, stranded by the side of the road.

Turning back around, she looked ahead of her to the road in front of them. There were no landmarks or signs to give her even the smallest hint as to where they might be, and Bianca slumped back in her seat feeling defeated. As her stomach rumbled, she realised she was also starving.

Leaning forward in her seat, Bianca rested her hands on the seat in front of her as she studied their driver more carefully. After a few minutes she called out in a louder voice than the one she had used in the backseat.

~Say, how about we pull over somewhere soon and you can treat the three of us here to a nice meal? We haven’t eaten in a while now, and unless you’ve got a porta potty on this rig of yours, we’ll need a pits stop soon anyways. I’m sure a trucker such as yourself knows the perfect place eh?~ *

[Athalia Mischavitch]

Athalia leaned back in her chair, sinking her head onto Tanasha’s shoulder; she reciprocated by gently placing her own head on Athalia’s resting it. She was exhausted, having to control her own body temperature the way she did took everything out of her. She was wheezing quietly, trying to relax but finding it almost impossible. Bianca chirped up from behind.

‘She didn’t choke on her tongue...’

She said sadly to Tanasha who pulled away and curled up in the corner with a discreet curve of her lips.

‘About an hour... yes we trust.’

She whispered quietly. Bianca as she was so prone to do chirped in again, urging the driver to make a stop to get some snacks.

‘No!’

Athalia called out suddenly, she grabbed hold of the drivers arm, keeping it on the steering wheel, not aggressively, there was no force. But desperately, pleading.

‘There coming... twisting, clawing, grabbing, pulling. With teeth and claws and metal and leather!’

Athalia closed her eyes,

‘Listen...’

They could all hear the SUV coming up behind them, tires screeching, engine revving, even above the sound of the roaring truck they were in.

‘We can’t stop... not ever’

[Plot Puppets]

Drake glanced down at the fuel guage. The needle hovered just above the final line, and he was certain the gas-guzzling beast of a Bronco wouldn't make it to another rest stop. Siren had insisted that they would lose their quary if they stopped, and that they should follow the semi-trailer until they pulled off. There were times when you could reason with her, but that depended entirely on her mood. Right now, she seemed... dangerous. Drake had chosen not to argue, and continued to drive.

"Of course we still have visual," Sasha snapped into her cell phone. She had been on the horn with HQ for the last 15 minutes, trying to muster reinforcements, and it seemed there would be none. "It wouldn't kill you to send a helicopter. We're in the middle of nowhere, so there won't be any witnesses." She listened for a moment, then shouted, "Fine! We'll take care of this ourselves, even if we have to walk back." The phone clicked shut, and Sasha threw herself back into her seat with a huff. They drove in silence for a minute. In the back seat, Rye grinned and held up a hand for Drake to see in the rear-view, three fingers extended. The fingers counted down, 2, 1, and as if on que, Sasha exploded, "Those bastards! It's not like they're that fucking busy! They could send another team. No one would see!"

Rye's voice floated up from the back seat, "When you're as good as us, they figure we don't need help. So we'll just have to prove them right. Don't you think?"

Siren cast a withering glare back at Rye, then heaved a sigh. Drake breathed his own silent sigh of relief as the tension in Sasha's shoulders eased and she turned to face front, calm once more. Something about Rye's deep voice and easy humor took the edge off of Sasha's explosive temper. Drake checked the fuel guage again, then stated "If we're gonna make a move, we'd better do it soon. This piece of shit won't go much further."

Sasha pulled a compact from a small black purse and set about powdering her nose. "Orion," she said into the mirror, "do you have your back of tricks?" The large man in back patted the breast of his coat. "Good. Drake, are you ready?" The driving man nodded. "Alright. Let's do it, then, while we still have the fuel to catch them."

The engine of the Bronco roared as the accelerator pedal hit the floor. The Sherrif's vehicle picked up speed, quickly eating away the distance between it and the lumbering semi-trailer that housed the three fugitives. The Bronco swerved and shot past the truck. Rye stared out the side at the driver and passengers, grinning wide and waving as they passed. Soon, they were far ahead of the truck, nearly out of sight.

"You guys ready?" Drake said. Sasha grabbed the oh-shit handles, and Rye pressed his hands against the roof of the SUV. Drake pounded the brake and cranked the wheel hard around. The vehicle spun, round and round, before coming to a halt broadside across both lanes of the two-way highway.

Drake hopped out, Rye following, and both men stood alongside the Bronco, awaiting the approaching semi. "This should be good," Rye said, removing his sunglasses to polish the lenses. Drake shook his head. "Easy for you to say."

[Tanasha Arati]

“Wasting away, already? You make a lousy trucker, Bianca.”

:~:Tanasha tried to keep the edge out of her voice and felt she did a moderately good job of it when the reply came out merely sarcastic and not outright vicious. While Bianca could think of her hunger and bladder, Tanasha sat rigid in the front seat thinking of more pressing concerns. Though the van had fallen behind in a mess twisted, burning metal, the sense of urgency in their situation had not subsided. Crash’s reaction to the idea of stopping unsettled her further and the anxiety had the bare skin visible under the blanket flushing with heat. Concerned, she fought down the reaction with a few deep breaths and plenty of cooling thoughts. God, would Dolly ever shut up? Was it any wonder she wanted to set herself on fire? Reaching back behind her seat, she took the angel’s hand and squeezed gently with a kindness she would have shown no one else.:~:

“You’re safe now. I’ll keep you safe.”

:~:Nerves pulled tight, her gaze remained transfixed on the rearview mirror and the suspicious Bronco that trailed them. It could have been coincidence. Ta didn’t live in a world where such things existed, but it could have been. Until it sped up and past, those inside waving as they went. No, there were no such things as coincidences. When it stopped- a black smudge on the horizon- across both lanes of highway, Ta let the heat seep back into her blood like a drug from an IV drip. They may catch them, but they weren’t going to enjoy what they caught. Still holding Crash’s hand, Ta stared at the Bronco, waiting on the trucker’s reaction. He’d handle it how he handled it and she wasn’t offering any information until she saw what he had up his sleeve. For all she knew he’d plow right through it and that would be the end of it. To keep her calm, Ta lowered her voice and repeated her earlier assurance.:~:

“I will keep you safe.”

[Ben Cooper]

The sense of urgency propelled Ben along, making him snap out of his social awkwardness and confusion. While he felt at a disadvantage being the savior of three mysterious women, he figured it was his duty to man up and act like a hero. He always remembered heroes in books being bigger than life, bold, and grim when required. They took their duties seriously, and they put everything on the line to protect their charges. Ben thought to himself that he could be that way, and apparently his chance to be a hero was now. Red got in the passenger side with an eagerness as though the very air itself were chasing her in. Her ad hoc outfit made her a very tempting looking vixen, but he grit his teeth and forced himself to focus on his duty. His charge. In his youth, he had often used his incredible imagination conjuring up scenarios where he used his amazing skill and daring to save the day. It had placated him for some time, allowing him to dream and grow at a time when he did not receive such reinforcements at home. The thoughts of all those heroic daydreams made him momentarily wistful. The innocence of youth was the most tragic loss on the battlefield of life.

Keeping his eyes off of Red's exposed legs, he pulled the door shut and checked his mirrors by force of habit. The Holy Blonde was loading the third sister, the Dark One, into the back. She was clearly either not mentally prepared for this or weak of will and spirit. Normally, this would have been a reason to be critical. But not for the White Knight. The Hero. He recognized that she needed protecting perhaps more than the others. Her weakness was his chance to be strong, and strength existed only to protect the weak against evil. A glance down at his right hand, the oak-like forearm ending in a stone-like fist. He shifted gears once they were in, and the truck spewed smoke, leaping forward as though it had been released from its bounds. His mindset in that of the Hero, Ben did not again feel tempted to look at his passenger to the right.

The truck roared on, the comforting power of the engine's vibrations made him feel like he was invincible, in some sort of mechanical armor. His fantasies running away with him, he came to picture himself as this armor being the only thing between the three sisters and the Evil One who had hurt them. The idea of someone bruising Red caused him to flush, but he maintained his stone-like face, any emotion suppressed lest it should slip out. No Hero could he be if he showed his anger, no matter how righteous it was. His hands did not tap or beat out a tune on the steering wheel, and in his reverie he was not even conscious of the terrible Dolly Parton song playing on. Normally, he would not listen to such music. The channel must have been switched somehow. A Hero does not groove to Dolly Parton.

For some time, he didn’t say anything, just looked impassively at the road. Then, after some time, his resolve broke down. Having that determined Heroic mindset was tiresome when all you could do is sit and glower at the road. He rubbed his forehead, and talked to the others without turning his head.

“So... where are we going?”

A very casual question, but the cracking in his voice came more from a lack of speaking rather than his earlier issue. He made a very clear point not to look to his right, for leaving his Heroic persona aside for the moment meant he was vulnerable to whatever temptations she offered. His thoughts lingered around the Good Book, and what it had to say on the item.

“I mean, should we get y’all to a hospital or something? Or maybe a store for clothes?” The last part sounded lame and he knew it, unable to cut it off before it escaped his mouth. Eloquent, this one was not.

The words had barely escaped his lips when the pale one’s arm was on his. He nearly jumped, taken surprise by the quick motion, but her lack of force on his hand stalled any reactive motion. Still keeping one eye on the road, he turned slightly to the right to see her face, confused as to what she was doing. A glimpse of Red’s leg flashed in his view - the perfect line of her leg marred with an ugly bruise. His face flushed again.

The Blonde told him they were coming. The frantic words which flowed from her mouth only served to make him want to ask more questions, until the words “listen” broke through his thought process. And listen he did. An almost superstitious side of him took over, and he held his breath. Sure enough, he could hear the approaching noise of an SUV, roaring like a miniature bobcat to his thundering lionesque truck. Something about the speed of the approaching vehicle alarmed him, and he caught her fear, made it his own. He only knew that something was very wrong, and his Heroic side forced its way into his mind, his mouth closing and that grim look setting in. He had to protect them from these people.

The SUV - a Bronco - streamed by, and Ben’s statue-like face appeared in the window, glowering at the three individuals in the SUV. One of them smiled and waved as they passed at an incredible speed. Ben determined immediately that one was the evil ex-boyfriend. He must be destroyed. Unconsciously, he picked up speed, but of course not enough to catch the vehicle. The aura of fear hung about the cabin, and the marks of his finger upon the wheel were unnaturally deep. Squaring his jaw, he shifted gears with the practiced ease of a professional racer. The amount of pressure on the gas was at the best point - when the engine surged forward and the truck started to pick up more speed.

The Bronco was stopped up ahead, and as they came closer he could see it was stretched across both lanes of the highway. Such a suicidal way to stop the truck. He thought immediately that he should just plow through them and be done with it.

But a paranoid itch in his mind told him That’s what they want you to do. It was the voice of his mother. She was usually right in life, right up to the very end. And with her voice in his head telling him to think outside of the box, he dutifully obeyed. Perhaps they had some kind of trick up their sleeve. Perhaps they thought he would stop because he’s a casual driver who’s afraid of an insurance mark-up on the potential damage to the rig. Perhaps they were crazy as hell. Either way, he was having it his way. The truck accelerated beyond the hope of stopping at this point, his powerful leg driving the pedal down to the floor. The engine roared in his ears, blood pumping feverishly. Eyes locked on the prize, he watched them, especially the Ex. And then at the last second his huge arm was up and around, whirling the wheel with a speed belying his large frame. The wheels of the truck screeched as they tried to find purchase, and then the truck was on the shoulder, streaming forward like a demented metal bullet. He would bypass them altogether. No sense in playing chicken. He was comforted in the fact that he would have survived any such chicken game anyways.

[Plot Puppets]

Rye pulled a small black bag from the inner pocket of his tailored jacket, which clicked and clattered as its contents rolled against one another, before removing the jacket and tossing it onto the back seat. He wore only an A-frame undershirt beneath, which clung to every contour of his heavily-muscled torso like a second skin. He closed the door and admired his reflection in the rear-door window, a reflection he was damn proud of. His physique was statuesque, chiseled and sculpted into aesthetic perfection in the most high-tech physical training facilities on the planet. Thick trapezius muscles flowed into the meaty spheres of his shoulders, heavy pectorals hanging above a stomach you could scrub laundry on. He flexed dramatically, flashing a surgically-perfected smile. The only detractor from his appearance was a small metal plate, about as wide and half as long as his thumb, that looked to be grafted to the inside of his forearm, and it gleamed in the sunlight.

Siren, sitting in the front passenger seat, rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, we're all real impressed." Drake, leaning against the side of the SUV, intuitively took three quick steps away from the vehicle. Siren smiled sweetly, before continuing, "Orion, sweety, do you think you can do me a favor, and GO DO YOUR FUCKING JOB NOW?!" Her bellow was Augmented, and the powerful sonic waves rolling from her throat shattered the windows of the Bronco.

Stumbling back in surprise, Rye grinned sheepishly. "Okay, already! I'm going!" He casually strolled out and away from the stolen Sheriff's vehicle, pushing the round-framed sunglasses onto his nose with one thick finger. As they slid into place, Rye realized the lenses had cracked in Siren's tantrum. He pulled them back off and cast them to the side of the road.

Wordlessly, Siren pulled a small device from her purse and fiddled with it, pressing here and there with one long, manicured nail. The device hissed, and a small red light started flashing on its underside. When she'd finished, Siren got out of the Bronco as well, and looked herself over. She, too was a study in surgical miracles, looking as though she just stepped off the cover of a comic book. Slender, graceful arms ended in delicate hands that set to adjusting the crossed bands of black velvet over breasts too large for her frame. A wasp-like waist swept down and out into shoulder-width hips, and the skirt of her dress was slit from where it stopped above her knees almost to its waistline, revealing the legs of an athlete. Siren pushed a spiraling lock of platinum blond hair out of her ice-blue eyes as she finished examining her appearance, then moved to stand on the far side of the Bronco, hidden from view.

The heat from the pavement made the distant semi-trailer indistinct, wavering like a mirage in the distance, and Drake watched as it disappeared down a dip in the road. It wouldn't be long before it reached them. "Almost show time, people," he said. Drake rubbed a hand down over his mouth and chin, as though examining his goatee for stray food. It was a habit of his, as he'd never gotten comfortable with the facial hair. It was just a piece of his many disguises, one that he affected whenever he was on "official" company business. In all ways Drake was nondescript, of medium hight and build, brown hair and eyes, the faceless man behind the beautiful couple. His lack of distant features had served him well in his days of military espionage, and continued to do so in service of The Tower.

Rye tipped his little black bag into his hand and began sorting through the contents, muttering to himself, "Lead... oak... granite..." dropping them one by one back into the bag as he named them. , until finally, "Ah, here it is!" He grinned triumphantly, lifting a small capsule for Drake to inspect. Drake nodded his approval. Rye bent one thick arm, palm up, to reveal the metal plate in his arm. With a push and a twist, the plate slid away to reveal a small, bloodless pocket in the flesh of his forearm between two thick bands of muscle tissue. He slipped the capsule into the pocket and slid the plate back into place. For just a moment the exposed flesh of his face, shoulders, and arms gleamed metallic, before returning to their usual sun-drenched tan. He squared is shoulders with the road, planting his feet in a wide stance. "Ready," he said.

The semi crested the hill, not far from them.

Drake walked up to stand behind Rye, hunched slightly so that he was completely concealed behind the larger man's bulk. He placed one hand on Rye's back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply in concentration. When they opened again, his eyes were a mosaic of shifting color patterns, white and brown and black replaced by rapidly changing lines an swirls of infinitely different colors. "Ready", he said.

Coming down the hill, the engine of the semi roared as it picked up speed.

Over his shoulder, Rye asked "Do you think they'll actually hit us?"

"I hope so," said Drake. "It would probably kill them all."

The semi bore down on them. They could smell the diesel.

"Then shouldn't we be hoping they don't? We don't want to kill them. Well, I don't want to kill them."

"Then you're in the wrong line of work, kid. Sometimes killing is what we do."

"Why should we kill them? They're not bad people. They're just--"

The truck screamed and swerved around them, around the Bronco, and onto the shoulder of the road, speeding past like a freight train jumped the track.

"Woo! They chickened out! Did you see that, Drake?! Haha!"

"Shit, they'll get away! Sasha!"

Drake's holler was unnecessary, as Siren was already on the move, her Augmented muscles carrying her faster than any normal human could. She sprinted after the truck, directly behind it, teeth gritted and her hair streaming out behind her. The semi's trip along the shoulder had cost it a good deal of speed, allowing Siren to keep pace with it until, with a mighty leap, she threw herself onto the back of the trailer. Her hands gripped the vertical locking bars, her toes perched on the bumper. She hauled herself up the locking bars, hand over hand, and up onto the top of the trailer, hugging the roof as she slowly crept toward the cabin.

Rye laughed heartily. What a rush! He'd almost hoped they'd hit him and end the chase, but he was glad they didn't. Drake, on the other hand, swore and ran for the Bronco. "Rye!" he yelled. "Get your ass in gear, we gotta go!" The big man jogged over and climbed in, still chuckling.

"Can't you just do your thing and fold us there?"

"Not if I can't see it," Drake grated, throwing the Bronco in gear. The Bronco wouldn't go far, he knew. But maybe far enough. With a squeal of tires, they gave chase once again.




[/size]

[Bianca Bartlett]

(( to set the scene, click on this link for Dolly Parton, and listen to it in the background while reading.. *grins* I did and.. I don’t know.. it just made me able to picture it all better.. like I was right there, ya know? Besides.. DOLLY ROCKS!!

au.youtube.com/watch?v=xlnyyabSLIE ))



*Bianca rolled her eyes at Athalia’s over dramatics. Sure, things were dire and they were literally fighting for their lives, but she didn’t think it was necessary to stress this poor truck driver out anymore than he already appeared to be at the sudden charge of being a knight in shining amour for three helpless females. The trucker had just asked where they were going, and if they needed a hospital, and here was Athalia declaring doom and gloom for all. Bianca groaned and crossed her legs at the thighs, willing her bladder to hold out just a bit longer, as she did what Athalia suggested and listened. They could hear the sound of an approaching vehicle, the sound of the screaming engine causing her blood to run cold. They were close, and Bianca knew that they wouldn’t give up until all three of the escapees had been either killed or captured. She doubted the Tower would order a hit on the three of them, they were far too valuable to his research for him to risk losing them. But she knew some of the assholes that worked for the Tower and they had never impressed their soft, caring sides on Bianca. Tanasha made her latest attempt at wit, and Bianca merely stuck out her tongue at her, while she stared straight ahead at the road beyond.

Dolly wailed on the radio about lying pretty lies, and messing with her mind and Bianca rubbed her temples at the thought of messing with the mind of one of their pursuers. She had the ability, but after her latest efforts, her strength was drained. She cursed herself inwardly for being so weak as Dolly finally relinquished her hold upon their ear drums. As the beginning drum beat of Bonnie Tylers “Holding out for a hero” began to blast from the trucks speakers, Bianca couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. What kind of radio station was this trucker listening to?? Certainly not the kind of station that Bianca thought a truck driver would be listening to, that was for sure, but as the song picked up momentum, Bianca had time to think that it was an appropriate song choice as their “Hero” looked down at the car speeding past them. Bianca leant forward and looked down over his shoulder, watching the arrogant bastard waving up at them as they drove past.


(( Music link: au.youtube.com/watch?v=7f_HsjpSVaI Go on listen!! Its good chasing music! ))

~Prick!~ she muttered as she watched the car stop suddenly several feet in front of them, parking across both lanes of the highway. Fearful that the truck driver would stop, Bianca breathed in his ear.

~Don’t you dare stop. If you stop we are as good as dead.. I don’t think hitting them would work out too well for us either.. but… ~ she was about to tell him to try to go around, when it occurred to her that either he couldn’t hear her over the sound of the stereo or he was already thinking along the same lines as she, as the truck swerved to the side and the truck raced along the shoulder. She clapped him on the shoulder and called out ~Good one!~ before turning around in her seat to try to see behind them.

Their pursuers would no doubt be extremely pissed off that they had managed to get around them. Bianca knew that they had some evil deed planned for the three of them, and she couldn’t help but gloat as she pictured them all scrambling back into their car, cursing them. A frown furrowed her brow a moment later however, as what she liked to call her “third eye” kicked into gear. In her minds eye, Bianca could see the two men scrambling to get back into the car, while she sensed another energy chasing down the truck. The energy was female, and she was getting closer. Though she had no hope of hearing the woman as she launched herself onto the roof of the cabin, Bianca knew that they had company.

~Uh, maybe we didn’t get away as cleanly as we hoped guys.. we’ve got company… up top.. ~ she moaned, closing her eyes and willing herself to be able to get a good look at the female energy on top of the truck. But all she was able to see was the black of the back of her eyelids. Groaning in frustration, Bianca muttered ~fuck this~ as she launched herself forward into the front of the cab so that she was now leaning over Tanasha’s lap. Ignoring the insults and jibes that were bound to ensue, Bianca used Tanasha’s body as a launch pad, as she wound down the window before hauling her torso out of the window. Twisting her body around so that she was now sitting on the window sill, Bianca pulled the top of her body up with her hands on the roof of the cab. Popping her head up, she was now able to look straight into the eyes of the female energy she had sensed inside the truck. Grinning at the woman, Bianca yelled out over the roaring wind

~Sorry bitch, but this truck’s already picked up it’s quota of hitch hikers for the day… so why don’t you take a flying fuck and get the hell off our ride?~

Gripping onto the top of the cab with all her strength and praying that Tanasha wouldn’t toss her out of the window, Bianca braced her legs against the inside of the truck door as she stared hard at the woman who was still crawling closer to Bianca. Calling on all of the ability she was still able to draw upon, Bianca began to work her mojo. A thin trail of blood began to run from her left nostril, and Bianca licked at it with a grin as she saw a similar trail of blood beginning to run from the woman’s right nostril. Bianca’s energy would be beginning to squirm within the woman’s brain like a pit of slithering snakes, and Bianca knew the pain would be unbearable. She willed the woman to relax all of her muscles, and just let go, painting a picture of a calm, serene deserted island where the woman would have no choice but to relax. She sent this image to the woman via her now strong telepathic link, while using her power to will the woman’s brain censors to let all of her muscles relax and just.. let.. go….

Unless the woman was a robot, devoid of all feeling and with no brain receptors, she would be unable to resist Biancas will and would have no choice but to relax her muscles, unable to fight against the roaring wind and the speed of the truck which would undoubtedly send her flying, falling back down onto the road below. As a searing pain shot through Bianca’s head and that small trail of blood began to gush from both nostrils now, Bianca knew that she could not hold out much longer. She prayed that Tanasha would somehow know what was going on and keep a hold of her legs, as she could already feel the strength in her arms and legs fading away. *

[Plot Puppets]

Siren crept along the roof of the trailer, knees and elbows turned outward, lizard-like. Perfectly manicured nails on her fingers and toes sank into the steel like clay, allowing her to quickly scuttle toward the cabin, and the targets she was dispatched to retrieve. The long blonde spirals of her hair streamed behind her, and her face was a mingling of rage and joy.

As the creeping agent neared the cabin, a blue-hooded head appeared above the edge of the cabin's roof, hand gripping the edge. Its owner, having climbed halfway through the passenger window, glared back at Siren with jade green eyes filled with rage. She shouted something, and though she was less than ten feet from the agent, the whipping winds tore the words away, unheard.

Siren dragged herself forward another couple feet, then froze. Her face locked in a snarl as a thin trail of blood ran from her nose. Her eyes drooped, green lids slipping down. She shook her head, eyes snapping back open, and she howled in fury and dug her fingers and toes into the steel of the trailer roof.

Their eyes locked once more. Blood gushed from the blue-clad girl's nostrils in streamers, catching on the wind. Drops of crimson fluid spattered Siren's cheeks as her eyes rolled up, showing only the whites. She thrust her body forward, hand outstretched, fingers splayed wide.

With a final cry, Siren's straining muscles gave in to the woman's psychic assault, and released their grip on the roof of the cabin. As the blue-clad woman fell back, reeling from her own efforts, Siren was torn from the roof and hurled away as the truck sped out from under her. The agent's limp body sailed through the air like a rag doll...

...into the waiting arms of Rye. The impact barely registered against his massive frame, and he cradled her like a child with its favorite doll.

The hulking agent stood at the rear of the trailer. Decker stood just behind, feet planted wide with one hand on Rye's muscular back. Webs of power spread out from Decker's feet, and the hand on his large partner. His eyes blazed, filled with chaotic lines and swirls. The agents were untouched the the airstream, not a hair or scrap of cloth was disturbed by the wind.

"Sasha's down!" Rye bellowed over the screaming wind. "Get her out of here!" He looked down the length of the trailer, at the streaks of blood, the finger and toe impressions in the trailer roof, and the comatose form of a dark-haired woman in a blue hood, being dragged through the window of the truck by her companions.

Rye's face, normally jovial and laughing, set in a grim scowl. "I'll take care of this."

Decker nodded, reaching out to grasp Siren's arm. He focused, and three glowing pillars of power sprang into existence behind him. The two on either side moved forward, past the three agents huddled on the roof of the trailer, and then came together just in front of Rye. As the two pillars merged, the three columns of energy disappeared as quickly as they'd formed. Gone with them was Decker and Siren, leaving Rye standing alone on the trailer.

Without Decker's energy to anchor him, the wind blew hard against Rye's impressive bulk. The wind's steady pressure against his skin activated his augmentation in full, the exposed skin of his face and arms gleaming silvery metallic. He held one hand up to shield his eyes from the driving airstream. Slowly, he pushed against the wind, making his way up the trailer to the cab.



A pillar of glowing light appeared on the roadside ahead. It split into two, and the second split again, opening and spreading to reveal Decker, kneeling in the gravel beside the comatose form of Siren. He checked her pulse and breathing, and rolled back an eyelid to check her pupil response. Satisfied that she would live, he looked up in time to watch the semi speed by again.

"Okay," Decker muttered, teeth clenched, "enough of this shit." The pillars of energy closed around him once more, folding the space between him and his destination out of the way. He leapt, and he was there.




On the roadside, Siren stirred weakly. She raised her head and opened her eyes, vision clearing in time to see the truck crest a hill. She could just make out the shape of Decker, clinging to the side of the truck's cabin, before the semi disappeared down the far side of the hill.

Siren's head dropped back to the gravel, eyes clenched at the pounding in her skull. She reached up a hand to slip beneath the wide band of cloth covering her left breast, fumbling until she found the emergency transponder hidden in the material. She clicked it on, and waited for evac.




Decker adhered to the side of the cab, lines of power radiating from his hands to hold him securely. He gritted his teeth and sidled along toward the driver's window. He was hunched low, just out of sight, feet perched on the step up. He carefully reached into his jacket and grasped the butt of his pistol.

Decker waited a heartbeat, then brought the pistol out and bashed it against the window. He heard a shout of surprise from within, and the truck swerved erratically. Despite the driver's efforts, the agent would not be shaken, his power anchoring him to the truck as securely as if he were a part of it. Again, the gun bashed against the glass, and one final strike smashed through, the safety glass crumbling into glassy pebbles.

Decker heaved himself up straight, taking half a moment to take in the sight of the driver and his passengers, before reaching in and grabbing the driver's arm. "Ride's over," he said. Then space folded itself around him once more.

The agent had vanished. So had the driver.