The escape was never going to be easy, and she had prepared herself for that. Carrying Dagger up the narrow staircase was like running with an extra pack of weights strapped to her back. His uneven breathing told her he was barely holding on, but he managed to crack a joke between wheezes.
"You sure you're not carrying me just to make me look bad? This isn't exactly how I imagined meeting the cavalry."
"Focus on staying conscious," she shot back.
They were nearly at the ground level when Dagger shifted slightly, glancing at her. "What do they call you?"
She hesitated, her heart skipping a beat. No one had asked for her name before-it had always been the designation, the mission, the objective. Actually, she was shut down completely whenever she tried to introduce herself.
May be she needs to talk to Patchy about all this name thing. She didn't even realise before today that it had been an year since someone had called her name.
Before she could answer, a sharp noise echoed from the corridor ahead.
The stomping of boots. Voices barking orders.
"Contact! Ground floor, east stairwell!"
"Of course," she muttered, her grip on Dagger tightening.
She set him against the wall, her body already reacting, her instincts kicking in. Her nano-blade hummed into existence, its metallic glow slicing through the dim corridor light. "Stay here," she said, glancing back at Dagger.
He grinned weakly. "Not like I'm going anywhere. But a sword really?"
She ignored the usual snide at her sword and kept her focus on the soldiers. NO HESITATION.
The first soldier came into view, his rifle aimed and finger already on the trigger.
She surged forward, her enhanced speed putting her right in his face before he could register or fire. Her blade struck his rifle, knocking it aside, and she spun, delivering a swift kick to his chest. He slammed into the wall and slid to the floor, unconscious.
Two more appeared, flanking her from either side.
She ducked low, her blade slicing upward in a clean arc. One soldier's weapon clattered to the ground as she disarmed him. The other lunged, his knife aiming for her side.
She twisted, narrowly avoiding the blade, and countered with a punch to his jaw. He staggered back, dazed, and she finished him with a strike to his temple.
Another squad flooded the corridor, six of them this time, rifles raised and glowing with advanced tech.
"Dagger, you still conscious?" she called, her voice steady despite her rising adrenaline.
"Barely," he groaned.
"Good. Keep it that way."
You know you can kill them, he thought. But was too tired to say anything.
The soldiers opened fire, plasma bolts searing through the air.
She moved in a blur, her enhanced speed allowing her to dodge the shots. The bolts exploded against the walls, leaving scorch marks and smoke. She darted toward the closest soldier, her blade slicing clean through his weapon's barrel.
She used his moment of shock to pivot and deliver a knee to his stomach. He doubled over, and she swept his legs out from under him.
The remaining five adjusted their formation, spreading out to cut off her escape.
"Smart," she muttered. "But not smart enough. Nor fast enough."
She grabbed a fallen rifle and hurled it like a spear, hitting one soldier square in the chest.
The force knocked him backward into another, sending them both crashing to the ground.
The remaining three advanced cautiously, their movements synchronized. She knew they were trying to corner her.
One of them lunged, swinging the butt of his rifle toward her head. She ducked, spinning her blade to disarm him before slamming the hilt into his helmet. The impact sent him sprawling.
The last two soldiers hesitated. She used their momentary uncertainty to charge, her blade cutting a precise arc through the air. Sparks flew as she sliced through their weapons, leaving them defenseless.
She turned toward Dagger, her chest heaving. "We need to move. Now."
Before she could lift him, a new figure emerged at the end of the corridor-a man in heavy armor, his presence radiating authority. He carried no visible weapon, but his stance was enough to make her grip her blade tighter. Chills ran through her body, all her ancestors' evolutionary instincts triggered.
The man moved with purpose, each step echoing in the narrow hallway. She shifted into a defensive stance, readying herself for whatever came next.
Dagger's voice was hoarse but sharp. "Wait."
The man raised a hand, and she felt an almost tangible weight press down on her, like the air itself had thickened. Her movements slowed, her instincts screaming at her to react, but she couldn't.
The man was raising his hand, ready to strike her down, when Dagger finally spoke. "Enough."
She glanced back in time to see Dagger remove his glasses, revealing a pair of brilliant, glowing eye. This reminded her of the stab wound on his right eye. May be they tried to extract whatever the Doctor had put in there.
The man stopped mid-motion, his body going rigid.
"What the..." she whispered, confusion and disbelief tangling in her thoughts.
Dagger's voice was calm, authoritative. "Stand down."
The man hesitated, his hand trembling as if fighting an invisible force. For a split second, she saw an opening.
She didn't waste it. Her blade flashed through the air, striking the man's arm and forcing him to step back.
He stumbled, his focus broken.
She turned to Dagger, her voice sharp. "What the hell was that?"
Dagger gave her a tired smile, his glowing eyes dimming as he slid his glasses back on. "Later."
"Later?" she snapped, grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet. "You better have a damn good explanation when we get out of here."
"Trust me," he said, wincing as he leaned on her.
"You'll love the story. But for now, let's hurry out of here. Before he regains control."
She rolled her eyes, dragging him toward the exit.
"You better hope I do."