Atalanta part 11
Apr. 26th, 2011 11:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drownedinlightOh my gosh, stuff happens in this!
Strike followed Atalanta as she rushed down the street. They paused at a car and ducked down, taking in the fronts of the building, of high rises lined up against each other
“Where are we entering?” Atalanta asked. Strike pointed to a center most building at the furthest end of the street and gestured to the front door as he caught his breath. Atalanta nodded, and waited for him to return nod in confirmation. Once he had, she took off down the street once again. She paused when she pressed herself up against the side of the building, on one side of the large glass doors. Strike reached her a moment later leaning against the building, signaling her when he was ready. Atalanta stepped forward and jerked open the door the lock snapping and the glass shattering a little around the handle as she walked in.
She entered into a marble coated lobby, as a security guard came out from behind a desk to meet her.
“Miss, I’m sorry, we’re closed, that door should have been locked by now,” as he got closer, the dim lighting revealed her costume, and he reached for his gun. He was not quite quick enough though, as before he could even get it from its holster, Atalanta had already reached out, grabbing him and striking him across his jaw line, making him collapse to the floor.
“Crude,” Strike remarked, as he knelt collecting the man’s earpiece and radio.
“It’s worked so far,” she retorted, watching him fit the two devices to his person. “What are you doing?”
“We’ll need to know where they are going so we cross paths as little as possible. Not to mention, we need a way to communicate if we get separated.” Strike said as he walked over to the desk. He handed her a set from behind the raised counter, and she plugged the ear piece into her inner ear, while slipping the radio to her belt. Strike seated himself at the computer and began to type at a rapid pace, bringing up schematics of the building. “Okay, so there are thing labeled here as holding cells, but I’m not sure how much we can trust this information as Maestro would specifically label something to confuse people.”
“He sounds like a guy who plays his cards close to his chest,” Atalanta retorted. Strike’s fingers hovered over the key board for a moment before they returned to clicking against it with a vengeance.
“He is,” Strike said. “The man who owns the building we’re in, who I assume is Maestro under an alias, would have an office here, on the top floor.” As he spoke he scanned over images of the top floor schematics, and then pointed to a set of multi colored lines running to a set of rooms. “These indicated extreme heating and cooling systems, like you would find in large ovens or freezers,” he said.
“And what are they doing on the top of a corporate building?” Atalanta asked. “So that’s where Natalie is?”
“Presumably,” Strike said. Atalanta took off towards the stairwell. “Hey!” Strike hissed. Atalanta turned on her heel.
“What?!”
“Remember how you should do we should do what he wouldn’t predict we’d do?” Strike said. “Well, I’ve got a plan, and I think if we follow it, we have a lot better chance of getting to Natalie and Maestro’s files undetected.” Atalanta was sure if she could have bitten through her lip; her face would have been nothing but a bloody mass of muscle when she said,
“All right, lead the way.”
Maestro twirled a katana around in his hand as he watched the girl slowly freeze to death in the room.
“Sir?” came a voice over the intercom. He growled as he pressed down on the talk button.
“What?”
“They’ve started making their way up to your floor sir,” the voice informed him. “They came through the front door. Maestro made a mental note to shoot whoever this messenger was later. “But the troops on your floor have been mobilized and are waiting at the elevator.”
“Elevator?! Elevator!” Maestro lept up from his chair, his finger pressing even more firmly into the talk button.” I told you they would come up through the stairs!” Maestro cried.
“Yes, sir, I know, but they activated the elevator, and have been coming up that way,” the person indicated. Maestro blinked.
“The clever little bastard!” he laughed. “Why if I didn’t know any better I would say that Nocturn had trained him himself.”
“…So would you like us to wait at the elevator sir?” Maestro resisted the urge to cut the intercom in half.
“Yes, shoot when it reaches the top, don’t even wait for the door to open. I’ll be there momentarily.”
“Yes sir! Over and out.” Maestro rolled his eyes and made a note to find the annoying military trained boy later and kill him. He took one last look at the freezing little bug and shrugged.
“Ah, well, not like I haven’t seen this show before, and if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.” He strolled out of the office, katana still in hand, walking lazily toward the elevator where the guards were already set up, gun in hand and waiting as the elevator climbed the floors. There were some mild dings, but really nothing too interesting. All Maestro needed to know was when he needed to send for someone to clean and repair the elevator. After all, he heard blood was not that easy to get up off of the floors if you let it set to long, and his cleaning staff never gave him any problems to he wouldn’t want to make more trouble for them.
The ding stopped and the squad of soldiers open fired on the elevator before the doors began to open. It was a waste of a lot of bullets really, considering that the invincible girl was probably in there. Hm… he would have to take care of her a different way. He wondered how she responded to the cold, and thought she might like to share a cell with her friend, the little bug. Then the elevator opened.
And it was completely empty.
“They could be hiding in the top,” one of the soldiers pointed out. “They do it all the time in movies.”
“Then go and see,” Maestro hissed at the man. He was one of the guards at the front of the line and slowly, with his gun at the ready inched forward into the elevator where he announced,
“All clear!”
“They took the fucking stairs!” Maestro hissed. “Move toward the holding cells! They’re going after the captive!”
After they exited the elevator five stories from the top, Strike remembered to press all of the buttons between there and the top floor so that the elevator would stop at each one, buying them some time. Atalanta headed directly for the stair case though, not that Strike was much further behind her as they leapt up the stairs making it to the top in a minute. Strike pointed down the hall which they needed to follow and Atalanta followed him towards a large steel door, bound with many different locks.
“That’s probably reinforced titanium,” Strike remarked. “I think the elevator will buy us a couple more minutes, but not enough time for me to hack the finger paid, and I’m not even sure about the eye scanner.” Atalanta did not care if it was reinforced titanium, she grabbed the door handle and she pulled with as much might as she had within all of her body. The door bent under her force, and the handle came off causing her to topple backwards. “You all right?”
“I’m fine, can you get in?” she asked. He examined the door shaking his head.
“No, there are too many bolts in the door; they run all along this side of the door.”
“…but not the other side?” Atalanta asked.
“I don’t know, maybe,” Strike replied, just in time to see her, from the corner of her eye begin to hack at the hinges on the door with the handle, beating them off one by one and pulling open the door to reveal that the bars did in fact only go through one side.
“Wh-whose there?” a hoarse voice chattered from inside the room. They both raced inside, a mistake since the floor was quite icy, and both nearly spilled onto the slick floor.
“Natalie,” Atalanta said. “We’re here to get you. I am Atalanta and my comrade Strike is with me. We’re going to get you out.”
“Atalanta?” Natalie asked, as they made their way slowly to the chair, Atalanta ripping and Strike cutting the ropes that bound her. Atalanta removed the eye mask from her and Natalie’s eyes nearly filled with tears at the sight of her. “I’m so happy to see you,” she rasped.
“Did they hurt you, have you been screaming?” Strike asked, and he sawed through one of the final ropes.
“Screaming out every song I know,” Natalie said, as Atalanta lifted her into her arms. “They say it keeps you awake when you get really cold.”
“You’re a clever woman,” Strike said. “But we need to at least get to the floor below before—” Strike was cut off by a barrage of bullets sounding in the distance. “Shit.”
“Let’s get out of her and double back around the hall,” Atalanta said, running and sliding across the slick floor, Strike following after. “Hold on tight Natalie, I’m going to go fast.” Atalanta ran as Strike directed her back around the long way to the elevators, where they would ride back down if they needed to. But something stopped both of them short when a figure stood before the elevators as they ran down the hall.
“I thought you might try that trick again,” said the man, a katana resting on his shoulder, a gun pointed towards them.
“Maestro,” Strike hissed.
“Oh, you must be Nocturn’s fan boy, I was hoping to meet you soon. And of course,” he jerked the gun towards Atlanta, “you are the super girl.”
“Superwoman, actually,” Atalanta said, as she slid Natalie into Strike’s arms. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he knew she could survive bullets when he couldn’t. “And why is it all of the villains I seem to come across have katanas and guns?”
“Well, you see, I don’t actually use this,” he said tossing aside the sword. “That was Kenji Fujiyama’s sword. Kenji was such a little ass kisser that the Boss knew it would break what’s left of his heart for me to have it and be using it ever so improperly. I really want Riko’s to mount on my wall with her traitorous little head when we catch up to her. I wouldn’t do that,” Maestro said, drawing another gun and pointing it toward Strike as he tried to edge toward the elevator with Natalie in his arms. “You’ve studied me, fan boy, you know I will shoot you and the girl, and then find a way to take the super girl here all for myself.”
“And what way would that be?” Atalanta asked. “You know Kenji seemed pretty interested in getting me for your boss too. He said something about collecting DNA samples.”
“Fujimoto collected samples from you?” Maestro inquired, cocking his head.
“I’m not exactly sure, he had me sprayed with his gas at the time, though that managed to work on me, so maybe he found a way to get some samples from me,” Atalanta retorted with a shrug. “Maybe he’s better off with the boss than you think,” she said. “So unless you can take me to him, I doubt you’re going to do much better. And if you shoot Strike and that girl, I guarantee you, you will not get a thing but a fist in your face and your gun pointed in a very uncomfortable place.”
“And if I let them go, you double cross me,” Maestro concluded. “I’m not really so naïve to believe that you would—” Atalanta rushed him running in front of his shot aimed toward Strike and Natalie before it fired and then hitting both of his hands so that he dropped the guns. Kicking them away, she went back to him, kicking and punching that would hurt him even as he blocked her attack.
They traded blows for some time, and Atalanta only put more and more force behind her blows, eventually snapping a bone in his arm, making him cry out, and giving her the opportunity to knock him out.
Strike had disappeared by then, hopefully to help Natalie.
“Strike, respond,” she said, once she had changed the radio channel that they had agreed would be only for them.
“Got Natalie wrapped up in something warm,” he replied. “I’m here with her on the first floor if you want to meet me on the way down, but I need some time on Maestro’s computer.”
“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” she said, kneeling to zip strap Maestro’s hands behind his back, “I don’t trust this guy further than I can throw him.”
“…Can you bring me his entire hard drive?” Strike asked. Atalanta raised an eyebrow, and replied,
“I’ll see what I can do; in the meantime, have Natalie make a phone call.”
“…What kind of phone call?” Strike asked, the confusion coloring his voice. Atalanta smiled, and went for the computer, explaining along the way.
Strike followed Atalanta as she rushed down the street. They paused at a car and ducked down, taking in the fronts of the building, of high rises lined up against each other
“Where are we entering?” Atalanta asked. Strike pointed to a center most building at the furthest end of the street and gestured to the front door as he caught his breath. Atalanta nodded, and waited for him to return nod in confirmation. Once he had, she took off down the street once again. She paused when she pressed herself up against the side of the building, on one side of the large glass doors. Strike reached her a moment later leaning against the building, signaling her when he was ready. Atalanta stepped forward and jerked open the door the lock snapping and the glass shattering a little around the handle as she walked in.
She entered into a marble coated lobby, as a security guard came out from behind a desk to meet her.
“Miss, I’m sorry, we’re closed, that door should have been locked by now,” as he got closer, the dim lighting revealed her costume, and he reached for his gun. He was not quite quick enough though, as before he could even get it from its holster, Atalanta had already reached out, grabbing him and striking him across his jaw line, making him collapse to the floor.
“Crude,” Strike remarked, as he knelt collecting the man’s earpiece and radio.
“It’s worked so far,” she retorted, watching him fit the two devices to his person. “What are you doing?”
“We’ll need to know where they are going so we cross paths as little as possible. Not to mention, we need a way to communicate if we get separated.” Strike said as he walked over to the desk. He handed her a set from behind the raised counter, and she plugged the ear piece into her inner ear, while slipping the radio to her belt. Strike seated himself at the computer and began to type at a rapid pace, bringing up schematics of the building. “Okay, so there are thing labeled here as holding cells, but I’m not sure how much we can trust this information as Maestro would specifically label something to confuse people.”
“He sounds like a guy who plays his cards close to his chest,” Atalanta retorted. Strike’s fingers hovered over the key board for a moment before they returned to clicking against it with a vengeance.
“He is,” Strike said. “The man who owns the building we’re in, who I assume is Maestro under an alias, would have an office here, on the top floor.” As he spoke he scanned over images of the top floor schematics, and then pointed to a set of multi colored lines running to a set of rooms. “These indicated extreme heating and cooling systems, like you would find in large ovens or freezers,” he said.
“And what are they doing on the top of a corporate building?” Atalanta asked. “So that’s where Natalie is?”
“Presumably,” Strike said. Atalanta took off towards the stairwell. “Hey!” Strike hissed. Atalanta turned on her heel.
“What?!”
“Remember how you should do we should do what he wouldn’t predict we’d do?” Strike said. “Well, I’ve got a plan, and I think if we follow it, we have a lot better chance of getting to Natalie and Maestro’s files undetected.” Atalanta was sure if she could have bitten through her lip; her face would have been nothing but a bloody mass of muscle when she said,
“All right, lead the way.”
Maestro twirled a katana around in his hand as he watched the girl slowly freeze to death in the room.
“Sir?” came a voice over the intercom. He growled as he pressed down on the talk button.
“What?”
“They’ve started making their way up to your floor sir,” the voice informed him. “They came through the front door. Maestro made a mental note to shoot whoever this messenger was later. “But the troops on your floor have been mobilized and are waiting at the elevator.”
“Elevator?! Elevator!” Maestro lept up from his chair, his finger pressing even more firmly into the talk button.” I told you they would come up through the stairs!” Maestro cried.
“Yes, sir, I know, but they activated the elevator, and have been coming up that way,” the person indicated. Maestro blinked.
“The clever little bastard!” he laughed. “Why if I didn’t know any better I would say that Nocturn had trained him himself.”
“…So would you like us to wait at the elevator sir?” Maestro resisted the urge to cut the intercom in half.
“Yes, shoot when it reaches the top, don’t even wait for the door to open. I’ll be there momentarily.”
“Yes sir! Over and out.” Maestro rolled his eyes and made a note to find the annoying military trained boy later and kill him. He took one last look at the freezing little bug and shrugged.
“Ah, well, not like I haven’t seen this show before, and if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.” He strolled out of the office, katana still in hand, walking lazily toward the elevator where the guards were already set up, gun in hand and waiting as the elevator climbed the floors. There were some mild dings, but really nothing too interesting. All Maestro needed to know was when he needed to send for someone to clean and repair the elevator. After all, he heard blood was not that easy to get up off of the floors if you let it set to long, and his cleaning staff never gave him any problems to he wouldn’t want to make more trouble for them.
The ding stopped and the squad of soldiers open fired on the elevator before the doors began to open. It was a waste of a lot of bullets really, considering that the invincible girl was probably in there. Hm… he would have to take care of her a different way. He wondered how she responded to the cold, and thought she might like to share a cell with her friend, the little bug. Then the elevator opened.
And it was completely empty.
“They could be hiding in the top,” one of the soldiers pointed out. “They do it all the time in movies.”
“Then go and see,” Maestro hissed at the man. He was one of the guards at the front of the line and slowly, with his gun at the ready inched forward into the elevator where he announced,
“All clear!”
“They took the fucking stairs!” Maestro hissed. “Move toward the holding cells! They’re going after the captive!”
After they exited the elevator five stories from the top, Strike remembered to press all of the buttons between there and the top floor so that the elevator would stop at each one, buying them some time. Atalanta headed directly for the stair case though, not that Strike was much further behind her as they leapt up the stairs making it to the top in a minute. Strike pointed down the hall which they needed to follow and Atalanta followed him towards a large steel door, bound with many different locks.
“That’s probably reinforced titanium,” Strike remarked. “I think the elevator will buy us a couple more minutes, but not enough time for me to hack the finger paid, and I’m not even sure about the eye scanner.” Atalanta did not care if it was reinforced titanium, she grabbed the door handle and she pulled with as much might as she had within all of her body. The door bent under her force, and the handle came off causing her to topple backwards. “You all right?”
“I’m fine, can you get in?” she asked. He examined the door shaking his head.
“No, there are too many bolts in the door; they run all along this side of the door.”
“…but not the other side?” Atalanta asked.
“I don’t know, maybe,” Strike replied, just in time to see her, from the corner of her eye begin to hack at the hinges on the door with the handle, beating them off one by one and pulling open the door to reveal that the bars did in fact only go through one side.
“Wh-whose there?” a hoarse voice chattered from inside the room. They both raced inside, a mistake since the floor was quite icy, and both nearly spilled onto the slick floor.
“Natalie,” Atalanta said. “We’re here to get you. I am Atalanta and my comrade Strike is with me. We’re going to get you out.”
“Atalanta?” Natalie asked, as they made their way slowly to the chair, Atalanta ripping and Strike cutting the ropes that bound her. Atalanta removed the eye mask from her and Natalie’s eyes nearly filled with tears at the sight of her. “I’m so happy to see you,” she rasped.
“Did they hurt you, have you been screaming?” Strike asked, and he sawed through one of the final ropes.
“Screaming out every song I know,” Natalie said, as Atalanta lifted her into her arms. “They say it keeps you awake when you get really cold.”
“You’re a clever woman,” Strike said. “But we need to at least get to the floor below before—” Strike was cut off by a barrage of bullets sounding in the distance. “Shit.”
“Let’s get out of her and double back around the hall,” Atalanta said, running and sliding across the slick floor, Strike following after. “Hold on tight Natalie, I’m going to go fast.” Atalanta ran as Strike directed her back around the long way to the elevators, where they would ride back down if they needed to. But something stopped both of them short when a figure stood before the elevators as they ran down the hall.
“I thought you might try that trick again,” said the man, a katana resting on his shoulder, a gun pointed towards them.
“Maestro,” Strike hissed.
“Oh, you must be Nocturn’s fan boy, I was hoping to meet you soon. And of course,” he jerked the gun towards Atlanta, “you are the super girl.”
“Superwoman, actually,” Atalanta said, as she slid Natalie into Strike’s arms. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he knew she could survive bullets when he couldn’t. “And why is it all of the villains I seem to come across have katanas and guns?”
“Well, you see, I don’t actually use this,” he said tossing aside the sword. “That was Kenji Fujiyama’s sword. Kenji was such a little ass kisser that the Boss knew it would break what’s left of his heart for me to have it and be using it ever so improperly. I really want Riko’s to mount on my wall with her traitorous little head when we catch up to her. I wouldn’t do that,” Maestro said, drawing another gun and pointing it toward Strike as he tried to edge toward the elevator with Natalie in his arms. “You’ve studied me, fan boy, you know I will shoot you and the girl, and then find a way to take the super girl here all for myself.”
“And what way would that be?” Atalanta asked. “You know Kenji seemed pretty interested in getting me for your boss too. He said something about collecting DNA samples.”
“Fujimoto collected samples from you?” Maestro inquired, cocking his head.
“I’m not exactly sure, he had me sprayed with his gas at the time, though that managed to work on me, so maybe he found a way to get some samples from me,” Atalanta retorted with a shrug. “Maybe he’s better off with the boss than you think,” she said. “So unless you can take me to him, I doubt you’re going to do much better. And if you shoot Strike and that girl, I guarantee you, you will not get a thing but a fist in your face and your gun pointed in a very uncomfortable place.”
“And if I let them go, you double cross me,” Maestro concluded. “I’m not really so naïve to believe that you would—” Atalanta rushed him running in front of his shot aimed toward Strike and Natalie before it fired and then hitting both of his hands so that he dropped the guns. Kicking them away, she went back to him, kicking and punching that would hurt him even as he blocked her attack.
They traded blows for some time, and Atalanta only put more and more force behind her blows, eventually snapping a bone in his arm, making him cry out, and giving her the opportunity to knock him out.
Strike had disappeared by then, hopefully to help Natalie.
“Strike, respond,” she said, once she had changed the radio channel that they had agreed would be only for them.
“Got Natalie wrapped up in something warm,” he replied. “I’m here with her on the first floor if you want to meet me on the way down, but I need some time on Maestro’s computer.”
“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” she said, kneeling to zip strap Maestro’s hands behind his back, “I don’t trust this guy further than I can throw him.”
“…Can you bring me his entire hard drive?” Strike asked. Atalanta raised an eyebrow, and replied,
“I’ll see what I can do; in the meantime, have Natalie make a phone call.”
“…What kind of phone call?” Strike asked, the confusion coloring his voice. Atalanta smiled, and went for the computer, explaining along the way.
