Well, what do you know?
The charges to scuttle the submarine where Babs had set up her final fallback had already been triggered. The lights were out, skin irritants and tear gas filled most of the compartments, and water was flooding in.
That made it a perfect time to escape. Except for the team of gun-toting mercenaries between Babs and her exit hatch. Judging by the frequency, their radios were stolen from the military. Current front-line gear with the new encryption protocols.
Which meant she could hear everything they said.
"We've cleared the forward compartments and we're moving aft."
"Check on the others," a deep voice responded. "We've lost contact." That was most definitely Roland Desmond. And that he'd lost contact with his other people made Barbara grin wolfishly. She knew what had happened to them.
"We're on it, Mr. D." Babs slid across the ceiling, hand over hand along the rails she'd installed as they spoke, getting into position.
"We're not alone!" one of the men snapped, having caught something out of the corner of his eye. "I saw something. A shadow or something."
"Where?" his commander demanded.
"It swung by overhead!" Babs froze where she was, hanging almost completely still in a shadowed nook above one of the men's head.
"There's nothing here," one of the men complained.
"Check it anyway," the commander growled. Which is when Babs grinned and dropped the smoke grenade. With predictable results of yelling and scrambling. With the lights off the mercenaries were forced to rely on their night vision gear, and the smoke made it impossible to see anything through the lenses.
The panicked yelling and flailing about is perfect cover for a few well-placed shots to the back of the head to take the men down one by one. It's a simple pattern: a quick strike and a swing into another position to line up the next one. One down. Two. Three. Four. Five in as many seconds.
Unfortunately the last one is smart enough to reach back and rip off his goggles. He couldn't see much, but he must have spotted some sort of movement because he opens fire as Babs slaps the the quick release on her harness and drops into the two feet of water that has already flooded the compartment. She's quick enough that he misses and she grins at his mistaken yell of "Gotcha!" He'll get sloppy now.
He rushes toward where her body hit the water before slowly looking around. He's yelling into his radio. "I have everything under control, here. Oracle, or whatever, isn't going anywhere." Which was just about the time Barbara reaches through the rungs of the ladder behind him where she's hanging upside down and jerks his head back into the steel. There's a very satisfying ringing sound.
At which point she sees something red in her peripheral vision. She glances up at her thigh and frowns. "Wow... he actually did shoot me." She's sort of glad she can't feel it. Bullets hurt, and they send you into shock, and she doesn't need to deal with either of those right now.
She winces as the water level rises high enough to lap up into her face. She was supposed to be off the boat... at least ten minutes ago. she really didn't want to have to make this call...
That made it a perfect time to escape. Except for the team of gun-toting mercenaries between Babs and her exit hatch. Judging by the frequency, their radios were stolen from the military. Current front-line gear with the new encryption protocols.
Which meant she could hear everything they said.
"We've cleared the forward compartments and we're moving aft."
"Check on the others," a deep voice responded. "We've lost contact." That was most definitely Roland Desmond. And that he'd lost contact with his other people made Barbara grin wolfishly. She knew what had happened to them.
"We're on it, Mr. D." Babs slid across the ceiling, hand over hand along the rails she'd installed as they spoke, getting into position.
"We're not alone!" one of the men snapped, having caught something out of the corner of his eye. "I saw something. A shadow or something."
"Where?" his commander demanded.
"It swung by overhead!" Babs froze where she was, hanging almost completely still in a shadowed nook above one of the men's head.
"There's nothing here," one of the men complained.
"Check it anyway," the commander growled. Which is when Babs grinned and dropped the smoke grenade. With predictable results of yelling and scrambling. With the lights off the mercenaries were forced to rely on their night vision gear, and the smoke made it impossible to see anything through the lenses.
The panicked yelling and flailing about is perfect cover for a few well-placed shots to the back of the head to take the men down one by one. It's a simple pattern: a quick strike and a swing into another position to line up the next one. One down. Two. Three. Four. Five in as many seconds.
Unfortunately the last one is smart enough to reach back and rip off his goggles. He couldn't see much, but he must have spotted some sort of movement because he opens fire as Babs slaps the the quick release on her harness and drops into the two feet of water that has already flooded the compartment. She's quick enough that he misses and she grins at his mistaken yell of "Gotcha!" He'll get sloppy now.
He rushes toward where her body hit the water before slowly looking around. He's yelling into his radio. "I have everything under control, here. Oracle, or whatever, isn't going anywhere." Which was just about the time Barbara reaches through the rungs of the ladder behind him where she's hanging upside down and jerks his head back into the steel. There's a very satisfying ringing sound.
At which point she sees something red in her peripheral vision. She glances up at her thigh and frowns. "Wow... he actually did shoot me." She's sort of glad she can't feel it. Bullets hurt, and they send you into shock, and she doesn't need to deal with either of those right now.
She winces as the water level rises high enough to lap up into her face. She was supposed to be off the boat... at least ten minutes ago. she really didn't want to have to make this call...