Criminals came in all kinds of guises. Anderson was no gentleman thief.
He'd known before any of this started that he and Michaels would probably--hopefully--never see each other again. Escapes were rare, successful ones even less so, they'd talked it to death. There was a better chance of getting away if they weren't together; make the guards divide themselves, give the police more work to do. Too bad. He'd miss the son of a bitch.
And then once that blue shard had gone into his arm, well, it had all become so clear. So easy. He wouldn't go back. Even if it meant getting killed. But that wasn't going to happen; even though he was fleeing, he'd never felt better in his life. Like he could take on the world and win.
Except his jumpsuit. The things had always been a pain in the ass, but it'd never felt tight before...
First snippet he heard had him. Oh, the monster listened in well to that, piecing things together easily as it went along.
East, was it? ... He'd forgotten how his abilities were somewhat dampened here. He'd have to actually work this time, wouldn't he? With a sigh, he scrawled some quick note to leave on the desk. Anything would do, really. Blah blah blah went out for a walk, be back whenever. No one was in today, and there were other priests in the parish for people to bother.
This was too important to pass up.
Within a matter of seconds, he'd vanished from the room. Quite literally. It'd take some pinging around before he could begin to hone in on a very interesting magical 'frequency'. The woods? The priest flickered out of sight.
Didn't need to be caught, after all. Now, lets see what these shards could do.
Once Greed had determined that his cell phone was telling him something and not simply acting up in some strange way, he listened with the utmost interest. It was only bits and pieces, but it was the first break in the day-to-day normalcy of this place he'd had since his arrival. And it certainly didn't sound normal.
All he needed was an idea of the location and he was off, taking the window route; no time to deal with his 'mother.' Enduring her worries had been worth it, as his explorations of the city now allowed him to easily head in the right direction.
They'd split. It was easier that way, ultimately . . . and although they'd been cellmates, here it was every man for himself in a mad dash for the survival prize of freedom. In truth, Michaels was feeling good as he ran; energy surged through his body, making him feel as though every step made in crashing through the brush was two, that even a bullet couldn't manage to put a hole in him.
The look on those guards' faces when he and his buddy had plugged their heads into the wall . . . priceless. Worth the small bite of that bit of blue glass going into his forearm. (God only knew why he'd done that, the rational part of his mind poked; what was the sense, but there must have been something in that thing . . .)
Yes, he was making good time, feeling good. If only he could get rid of that damn orange jumpsuit; it was feeling strangely tight . . .
He'd taken to the roofs for a stretch until the buildings began to vary too much in size and distance closer to the edge of the forest, at which point he rather unceremoniously slipped on a patch of ice and tumbled eight stories to the ground. There was only one passerby present that he could see who stared at him for this, at which he simply brushed himself off, adjusted his coat, gathered what little dignity he had at the moment, and continued running at ground level.
He rushed in past the trees, only slightly slowed down by the rougher terrain and not entirely sure what he was looking for. He had to nudge Ling for a little help on this one in the hope that the escaped convicts, apparently super-powered as they were, would therefore be detectable in some way. His theory was rewarded soon enough as Ling notified him of an uneasy feeling that something was amiss in these woods, and it was getting closer.
"That's good enough for me." He mumbled the words to himself and grinned.
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He'd known before any of this started that he and Michaels would probably--hopefully--never see each other again. Escapes were rare, successful ones even less so, they'd talked it to death. There was a better chance of getting away if they weren't together; make the guards divide themselves, give the police more work to do. Too bad. He'd miss the son of a bitch.
And then once that blue shard had gone into his arm, well, it had all become so clear. So easy. He wouldn't go back. Even if it meant getting killed. But that wasn't going to happen; even though he was fleeing, he'd never felt better in his life. Like he could take on the world and win.
Except his jumpsuit. The things had always been a pain in the ass, but it'd never felt tight before...
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East, was it? ... He'd forgotten how his abilities were somewhat dampened here. He'd have to actually work this time, wouldn't he? With a sigh, he scrawled some quick note to leave on the desk. Anything would do, really. Blah blah blah went out for a walk, be back whenever. No one was in today, and there were other priests in the parish for people to bother.
This was too important to pass up.
Within a matter of seconds, he'd vanished from the room. Quite literally. It'd take some pinging around before he could begin to hone in on a very interesting magical 'frequency'. The woods? The priest flickered out of sight.
Didn't need to be caught, after all. Now, lets see what these shards could do.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
All he needed was an idea of the location and he was off, taking the window route; no time to deal with his 'mother.' Enduring her worries had been worth it, as his explorations of the city now allowed him to easily head in the right direction.
Reply
The look on those guards' faces when he and his buddy had plugged their heads into the wall . . . priceless. Worth the small bite of that bit of blue glass going into his forearm. (God only knew why he'd done that, the rational part of his mind poked; what was the sense, but there must have been something in that thing . . .)
Yes, he was making good time, feeling good. If only he could get rid of that damn orange jumpsuit; it was feeling strangely tight . . .
Reply
He rushed in past the trees, only slightly slowed down by the rougher terrain and not entirely sure what he was looking for. He had to nudge Ling for a little help on this one in the hope that the escaped convicts, apparently super-powered as they were, would therefore be detectable in some way. His theory was rewarded soon enough as Ling notified him of an uneasy feeling that something was amiss in these woods, and it was getting closer.
"That's good enough for me." He mumbled the words to himself and grinned.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
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