Dirty Pretty Things

[Kat]

Have you ever felt alone? Not just alone, alone, but totally, utterly, completely alone? Like no one else in the entire world even knows you exist, or would give a shit what happened to you if they did? I have. Hell, that's practically my life story to the letter. I used to know people though, and people knew me. We talked, we laughed, we cried, we did all the things normal people do in polite society. Except the society I grew up in wasn't all that polite, and if you knew me or half the shit I've done it wouldn't take an overly active imagination to figure out how I ended up here.

Alone.

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Cold, that was the first sensation registered by my flagging senses, eyes contracting shut to blink away the white glare that abruptly flooded my vision. I tried to think, my thoughts lost in a haze behind a myriad of more pressing anxieties gradually churning their way to the surface. Where was I? Was I alone? Who was with me? Why was I so damn cold? The answers eluded me, all I could do for now was feel and process. I swallowed and tried to speak, but all I managed was a pathetic whimper that was half way between a whisper and a gasp. My eyes hurt, like someone had rubbed sand in them.

****, why do my eyes burn...?

I tried to move a hand towards my face, but I couldn't move.

What the ****?

My pulse spiked and I tried again, nothing but the dull clap of metal on metal echoed through the room as I put all my effort behind trying to move just one hand.

Damn it, this really shouldn't be this hard! I've done it a million times.

So why can't I do it now?

It took my brain a second or two to put things together, but I was pretty sure I had this all pegged from the second I felt that gut wrenching feeling of immobility... I just didn't want to fess up to it yet. I craned my neck awkwardly, trying to get a sense for my surroundings. My eyes roamed the ceiling, tracing the lines in the tiles as far as was humanly possible for me to do so before they drifted along the wall, searching for any clues as to my whereabouts. But it was all the same monotone shade of white surrounding me.

My heart hammered in my chest as I finally managed a moment of lucidity amid the growing sense of dread coiled deep in my gut. "H-h-he-help..." Talking damn near hurt, my words fading with a rasping breath. Shit, how long had I been like this?

Tangible fear gripped my groggy mind as I renewed the attempts to move my extremities, even if I already knew it would be a vain struggle. The skin on my wrists and ankles chaffed against the cruel embrace of the binds holding me in place, and no matter how hard I tugged, pulled or squirmed there was just no budge in the restraints. A look of naked panic materialized in my expression as I fought to hold back the pitiful sob building in my chest.

"Someone!" Screaming turned out to be a terrible idea. My throat felt raw and my words came out hoarse, but I forced them anyway. Someone had to be out there. Someone had to hear me... I hoped. "Anyone! Help!"

 

[Gamov]

Fondor's subterranean steam pipes, they sprawled on, seemingly without end, in a vast labyrinthine maze. Twisted double backs, sudden dead ends and flocks of vicious Hawk-bats made it easy enough to get lost or unwittingly stumble onto the menu in these dank reaches. To say this world had quickly worn on Mila's last nerve would be an understatement. She despised being plucked from the peace and quiet of her studies at the temple and hurled - rather unceremoniously she might add - towards some god forsaken planet at the edge of the Empire. Granted, Fondor was no such backwater world, but the impoverished masses that huddled in decrepit shanty towns beneath the shadows of the endless urban sprawl could fool anyone. Yet none of that worried or nagged at Mila more so than the atmosphere. It was warm and humid, oppressively so for her keenly adjusted senses. The months and years spent training against the frigid winds and driving blizzards on Ziost had gifted her with something of an intolerance for anything warmer than the windswept tundras of the Sith world. At least the insulated bodyglove beneath her combat armor afforded her a modicum of comfort from the sweltering conditions - yet it offered no such relief from the sense of envy creeping through the back of her mind. Andromeda would have been much better suited to slumming around these grimy depths than she was, if only because she was the underling and could have been ordered to do as much. But their plan called for equal parts subtlety and brute force. Unfortunately for Mila, subtlety was her art. Skills alone had drawn the short lot for her, and she momentarily regretted her choice not to leveraged her rank to secure a less degrading task. But throwing herself into the meat grinder was even less appealing than trudging through a sewer. Sometimes - as she had come to realize - one must accept the low road to achieve higher goals. A stiff hand signal form Sergeant Ryker paused the group as he motioned towards the junction ahead. The fingers of light streaming into the dim tunnel were like a beacon of hope to Mila. She'd be glad to be out of these damned tubes and back on the surface. With another curt wave of his hand, Ryker sent a pair of his men forward to scout the path, their sweep taking only a moment before they signaled the all clear. Moving forward to regroup, the Stormtroopers training seemed to kick in automatically as they assumed defensive positions around the junction while a lone trooper quietly ascended the ladder and threaded a small fiber-optic cable between the slats in the grate. Mila was nearly mesmerized by the split second timing and coordination of it all as the squad dispatched its various tasks almost simultaneously without uttering so much as a word among themselves. If only her Sith "counterparts" could be so reliable. With a thumbs up, the trooper at the top of the ladder gave another "all clear", Sergeant Ryker answering him with a curt nod before the man gingerly pushed the grate aside to allow himself room to deploy a small remote drone into the passageway above them. Below him, another Stormtrooper worked away on a small datapad, his attention diligently fixed to it as his fingers flew across the screen in a blur. In the hallway above, the drone was guided along its path, nimbly avoiding roving patrols inside the prison before its primary objective came into view. A quick cross check to verify their target was all the more time the men took before Ryker did a silent countdown, clenching his fist shut at 0 and then... The lights in the hallway flickered for an instant before going out with a sizzling electric hiss. Panicked voices began to filter through the passageways overhead as the first of the Stortroopers pushed the grate aside and clambered up onto the next floor. Then another, and another, and another... then it was Mila's turn. Pausing for but an instant to peer up into the inky blackness above her, she flicked the nightvision feature on her armor's helmet on and swiftly made her way up the ladder. The hallway was eerily quiet, save for the frantic voices trying to make heads or tails out of the situation. Ryker and the rest of his men brought up the rear, filing up the ladder before he motioned the group forward. Mila fell in line near the center of the group, trusting in the expertise of the Stormtroopers to handle the brunt of any counter attacks. Moving swiftly through the blackened hallways, the squad's targets were clear as flashes of red suddenly tore through the pitch black. A flash here, a scream there, more panic and terror seeping through the chaos as one body after another hit the floor. It hardly seemed to take more than a minute before the squad had moved in an neutralized the security force at the prison's surveillance center. The EMP that had been detonated by the remote drone had done an admirable job of leaving their enemies in the dark - literally. The element of surprise had worked flawlessly, but they were still on a strict time table. It wouldn't take long for... A loud click resonated down the hallway as the prison's generator shunted power to the surveillance center. "Goggles!" Ryker shouted, just seconds before the lights flickered back to life. The wash of white light and the glow from the computer monitors revealed the true extent of the carnage, which wasn't all that awful all things considered. At least half a dozen security guards lay dead, each dispatched with little more than timed blaster shots. Ryker and his men had performed beyond Mila's expectations. "Sergeant," the Crusader turned to face him, "how long until we can bring the prison's defenses down?" "Duran, ETA on those defenses." "Working on it now, sir. System's still booting up." "Just get it done soldier." "Sir!" "What are our contingencies in the meantime?" Mila's thoughts turned more towards the second strike team and any options she had at her disposal to pull as much attention away from them as possible. If the prison guards could organize a defense while they sat around waiting for a computer bank to boot back up... they'd be cut down. "We do have a defensible position, ma'am." Ryker said, "if you were so inclined to draw some attention our way, my boys could hold the line long enough for..." Alarms suddenly blared throughout the prison, cutting the Sergeant's words short. "Looks like fate has made our choice for us, Sergeant." The dull sound of tools prying stubbornly against metal doors echoed down the hall. It wouldn't be long before more guards were on top of them. A pang of anxiety raced through Mila, but she hid it well behind a calm demeanor. "Get your men into position. We'll hold this ground and draw as many of them to us as we can." "Yes, ma'am!" "You..." Mila's gaze prowled onto the trooper at the surveillance station. "How much longer?" "System just came back online. I can be in their system inside five minutes." "Do it." As the trooper went about his work, she keyed the comlink stud in her helmet and flipped the channel over to a secure line. "Andromeda... go, now." Her words were curt, lacking much urgency or emotion yet still conveying the intent behind them. Her team was meant to carve a bloody path through any poor bastard unlucky enough to get in their way. Mila almost felt sorry for them... almost.