There was this about 5-star hotels; they stocked enough alcohol to make jet-lag tolerable. Unfortunately, Parker wasn't going to be able to take advantage of that until after her briefing of Triela, and set-up for Angelo's audit
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Re: A few hours later...sorella_vecchiaJanuary 8 2011, 04:29:55 UTC
"Down the stairs," Triela urged Angelo, pushing lightly on his shoulder. She didn't see any weapons drawn yet, which meant she wasn't going to draw her own.
They'd made a mistake just sending four guys. She could take them all on unarmed. And if no one was shooting she didn't have to worry about her charge getting hit by a stray shot or a ricochet.
Re: A few hours later...sorella_vecchiaJanuary 8 2011, 04:50:46 UTC
Triela stepped past Angelo. Parker had requested no lethal force, but you could be in intensive care without dying. She planted one foot and used all of her cybernetic strength to drive one of her boots into the chest of the first man coming up the stairs.
You know something's wrong when your ribs splinter hard enough for the cracking sound to be audible over a fire alarm.
Re: A few hours later...sorella_vecchiaJanuary 8 2011, 05:05:47 UTC
Triela had to move fast. She lunged forward, faster than was really humanly possible, and grabbed the freshly-drawn gun. She swung her other arm around to hit the thug's forearm with her own, hard enough to break both his radius and his ulna.
That should take him out of this fight. Then she spun, pistol leveled at the two remaining thugs. "Don't move," she commanded as she stepped back to where Angelo was sliding and reached down to lay a hand on his shoulder.
Re: A few hours later...mparkerceoJanuary 8 2011, 05:08:52 UTC
They both froze, gaping at their fallen comrades, as Angelo leaned gratefully against Triela and peeked up the stairs at them.
"Okay, look," one of them said nervously. "We've got our hands up. We're not moving." He was breathing shallowly, eyes flicking to the one with multiple broken ribs. "It isn't worth the paycheck. We get it."
Two hours into the job, though, he stopped, spun on his chair, and blinked upward.
"Smell?"
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--then ducked under his desk, shivering.
An alarm sounded, far away, then was echoed much closer.
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"Come on," she gestured again. "I'll keep you safe." That was the job.
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"Safe. Promise? Promise?" She'd have to shove him down if she *had* to shoot someone. But he'd go down easily.
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Just in case.
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Then howling once they were inside the stairwell:
Two goons above, two goons below.
Calling for back-up might be a good idea.
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They'd made a mistake just sending four guys. She could take them all on unarmed. And if no one was shooting she didn't have to worry about her charge getting hit by a stray shot or a ricochet.
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They had guns, but foolishly didn't think they needed them yet. They saw Triela as a handler, not security.
"Get the geek!" One of the ones on the floor above yelled.
The two from the floor above were moving to intercept him.
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You know something's wrong when your ribs splinter hard enough for the cracking sound to be audible over a fire alarm.
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Angelo, meanwhile, had crouched down low, and was now sliding down the stairs on his butt, arms still over his head, whimpering.
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That should take him out of this fight. Then she spun, pistol leveled at the two remaining thugs. "Don't move," she commanded as she stepped back to where Angelo was sliding and reached down to lay a hand on his shoulder.
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"Okay, look," one of them said nervously. "We've got our hands up. We're not moving." He was breathing shallowly, eyes flicking to the one with multiple broken ribs. "It isn't worth the paycheck. We get it."
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"Did you pull the fire alarm?" she asked, eyes narrow.
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