Muse Channel - 15/11/06 - Troubled Waters
Max glanced back over her shoulder as she crested the rise of the hill. She realised with a sick pang that they'd lost someone, somewhere in their flight through the forest. She put it aside for the moment, she didn't have time to worry about him, she still had eight young Manticore refugees depending on her to get them to safety, and she wasn't going to let them down, not if she could help it. Instead, she focused on the objective, which at the moment was to get out through the rapidly tightening military dragnet.
Overwhelmingly outnumbered and out gunned, even the supercharged x-series soldiers had little hope of fighting their way out of this situation, so flight had become their only option. She could hear the search teams converging on them from three directions, and she hurtled down the hillside, desperate to outrun them.
Her gut was telling her that something wasn't right about this whole scenario - apart from the fact that a platoon of soldiers was looking to gun down a handful of children - kinda like they were being herded, Max contemplated as she led her charges scrambling up the next incline, then came to an abrupt halt at the top. Her heart lodging itself in her throat as she surveyed what lay ahead.
Their passage to freedom was blocked by the raging white waters of a wide river. Diving in there would be suicidal. She glanced around wildly, looking for another escape route, but found nothing. A fleeting scan revealed that their pursuers had fanned out behind them and were rapidly closing the distance. They'd be within shooting range soon.
"We're trapped!" the oldest of her charges - a boy of fourteen - gasped out grimly, having surveyed the situation and come to the same conclusion.
They were out of time. They'd just have to risk it.
"C'mon!" Max scooped up the smallest child, who bore an unnerving resemblance to a six year old Tinga, and grabbed the shoulder of another, half steering, half dragging him as she careened down the slope to toward the riverbank. Reaching the bottom, she thrust mini-Tinga into the arms of one of the older boys, "Take her."
She dropped her backpack and started rummaging through it, thankful that she'd been on a job when Logan called to tell her what he'd heard on the scanner. Who said crime didn't pay? Her fingers brushed against familiar cool metal and she grasped it, pulling out a launching gun, preloaded with a folding steel grapnel and 30 meters of slender Kevlar rope. She tossed the end of the rope to a red haired eleven year-old, "Tie this off."
"Ready, Ma'am." The girl told her a moment later, glancing apprehensively in the direction they'd come from.
"Just Max,’" She aimed at a sturdy looking tree on the far bank, and pulled the trigger, the three prongs of the grapnel releasing as the rope reached its full extension, and catching in the fork between the trunk and a low branch. She gave the rope a swift hard tug to make sure it was secure then nodded. "That oughta do it, better get movin’."
The children began crossing, three at a time so as not to put too much strain on the rope. The last two children were still in the process of crossing when the first of their pursuers appeared at the top of the ridge and started descending. Reaching the bottom, he raised his weapon and began to take aim at the children.
“I don’t think so!” Max snarled as she emerged from behind a nearby tree and aimed a roundhouse kick at his wrist, knocking the weapon off aim and sending a shower of bullets spraying wildly off target. She ducked in, grabbing the barrel of the M&P rifle and attempted to snatch it from his grasp, but he was determined to hang on. She managed to wrestle the weapon around so its barrel was pressed against his windpipe, and backed him up against a tree.
One of his allies arrived on scene and slammed the butt of his rifle into the base of her skull. She grunted, blinking back the white hot stars of pain which danced before her eyes, and rounded on him, leaving his companion to slump to the ground. She blocked his second blow with her forearm, and drove the stock of the rifle up under his jaw, his head snapping backwards with a sickening crack. She didn’t need to take his pulse to know he wouldn’t be waking up.
Grabbing hold of the his body, she spun around and thrust his dead weight toward a third man, gritting out, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size!” while simultaneously kicking a fourth man in the gut, then slammed the rifle butt against his skull, taking him out of the game. She cast the rifle into the river. The third man was up again, having extricated himself, and was raising his sidearm. Max ducked in, grabbed the gun and head-butted him in the gut, then sprung upwards, propelling him into the air and flipped him over her back, breaking his arm in the process.
“Just take your toys,” She threw the pistol, clocking an approaching fifth man on the head and sending him down for the count, and kicked the first guy in the face, “And go home.”
It was time to cut and run. She grabbed hold of the rope and leapt into the fast flowing river. The water was ice-cold and she gasped as it enveloped her. Even with superhuman strength it was difficult to keep her grip on the rope and drag herself along it, with the treacherous current threatening to carry her away. There was a sudden weight on the rope, which dragged her under, and when she resurfaced she saw that the first guy was following her into the river, clearly intent on pursuit.
Some guys just don’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer. Holding on tight to the rope with one hand, she slid her hand to her belt and unsheathed her Leatherman, flicking out the serrated blade with her thumb, then began to saw through the tough rope.
“You really needa learn to let go!” The last strand yielded beneath the sharp blade and the river dragged Max away, smashing her body against rocks and tugging her under, the wicked current trying to break her grip on the violently whipping rope. Suddenly there was tension on the line, and moments later, hands reached in, grasping her and hauling her onto the bank. She looked up into the faces of her young rescuers gratefully, “Thanks.”
Mini-Tinga held out a hand to Max, dark eyes solemn, “We need to go now.”
“Yeah. Let’s blaze,” Max took the small child’s hand and ran into the forest, ducking and weaving to avoid the spray of bullets fired at them from across the river.
Character: Max Guevara / X5-452
Fandom: Dark Angel
Prompt: Troubled Waters
Wordcount: 2,161
Overwhelmingly outnumbered and out gunned, even the supercharged x-series soldiers had little hope of fighting their way out of this situation, so flight had become their only option. She could hear the search teams converging on them from three directions, and she hurtled down the hillside, desperate to outrun them.
Her gut was telling her that something wasn't right about this whole scenario - apart from the fact that a platoon of soldiers was looking to gun down a handful of children - kinda like they were being herded, Max contemplated as she led her charges scrambling up the next incline, then came to an abrupt halt at the top. Her heart lodging itself in her throat as she surveyed what lay ahead.
Their passage to freedom was blocked by the raging white waters of a wide river. Diving in there would be suicidal. She glanced around wildly, looking for another escape route, but found nothing. A fleeting scan revealed that their pursuers had fanned out behind them and were rapidly closing the distance. They'd be within shooting range soon.
"We're trapped!" the oldest of her charges - a boy of fourteen - gasped out grimly, having surveyed the situation and come to the same conclusion.
They were out of time. They'd just have to risk it.
"C'mon!" Max scooped up the smallest child, who bore an unnerving resemblance to a six year old Tinga, and grabbed the shoulder of another, half steering, half dragging him as she careened down the slope to toward the riverbank. Reaching the bottom, she thrust mini-Tinga into the arms of one of the older boys, "Take her."
She dropped her backpack and started rummaging through it, thankful that she'd been on a job when Logan called to tell her what he'd heard on the scanner. Who said crime didn't pay? Her fingers brushed against familiar cool metal and she grasped it, pulling out a launching gun, preloaded with a folding steel grapnel and 30 meters of slender Kevlar rope. She tossed the end of the rope to a red haired eleven year-old, "Tie this off."
"Ready, Ma'am." The girl told her a moment later, glancing apprehensively in the direction they'd come from.
"Just Max,’" She aimed at a sturdy looking tree on the far bank, and pulled the trigger, the three prongs of the grapnel releasing as the rope reached its full extension, and catching in the fork between the trunk and a low branch. She gave the rope a swift hard tug to make sure it was secure then nodded. "That oughta do it, better get movin’."
The children began crossing, three at a time so as not to put too much strain on the rope. The last two children were still in the process of crossing when the first of their pursuers appeared at the top of the ridge and started descending. Reaching the bottom, he raised his weapon and began to take aim at the children.
“I don’t think so!” Max snarled as she emerged from behind a nearby tree and aimed a roundhouse kick at his wrist, knocking the weapon off aim and sending a shower of bullets spraying wildly off target. She ducked in, grabbing the barrel of the M&P rifle and attempted to snatch it from his grasp, but he was determined to hang on. She managed to wrestle the weapon around so its barrel was pressed against his windpipe, and backed him up against a tree.
One of his allies arrived on scene and slammed the butt of his rifle into the base of her skull. She grunted, blinking back the white hot stars of pain which danced before her eyes, and rounded on him, leaving his companion to slump to the ground. She blocked his second blow with her forearm, and drove the stock of the rifle up under his jaw, his head snapping backwards with a sickening crack. She didn’t need to take his pulse to know he wouldn’t be waking up.
Grabbing hold of the his body, she spun around and thrust his dead weight toward a third man, gritting out, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size!” while simultaneously kicking a fourth man in the gut, then slammed the rifle butt against his skull, taking him out of the game. She cast the rifle into the river. The third man was up again, having extricated himself, and was raising his sidearm. Max ducked in, grabbed the gun and head-butted him in the gut, then sprung upwards, propelling him into the air and flipped him over her back, breaking his arm in the process.
“Just take your toys,” She threw the pistol, clocking an approaching fifth man on the head and sending him down for the count, and kicked the first guy in the face, “And go home.”
It was time to cut and run. She grabbed hold of the rope and leapt into the fast flowing river. The water was ice-cold and she gasped as it enveloped her. Even with superhuman strength it was difficult to keep her grip on the rope and drag herself along it, with the treacherous current threatening to carry her away. There was a sudden weight on the rope, which dragged her under, and when she resurfaced she saw that the first guy was following her into the river, clearly intent on pursuit.
Some guys just don’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer. Holding on tight to the rope with one hand, she slid her hand to her belt and unsheathed her Leatherman, flicking out the serrated blade with her thumb, then began to saw through the tough rope.
“You really needa learn to let go!” The last strand yielded beneath the sharp blade and the river dragged Max away, smashing her body against rocks and tugging her under, the wicked current trying to break her grip on the violently whipping rope. Suddenly there was tension on the line, and moments later, hands reached in, grasping her and hauling her onto the bank. She looked up into the faces of her young rescuers gratefully, “Thanks.”
Mini-Tinga held out a hand to Max, dark eyes solemn, “We need to go now.”
“Yeah. Let’s blaze,” Max took the small child’s hand and ran into the forest, ducking and weaving to avoid the spray of bullets fired at them from across the river.
Character: Max Guevara / X5-452
Fandom: Dark Angel
Prompt: Troubled Waters
Wordcount: 2,161