Thread: Knight in Rusty Armour {asylum and Alan23}

Rak heaved a deep sigh, So, she was going to be one of the weak ones. He'd been hoping that once he dangled the carrot of escape before her, she'd perk up. Going back the way he'd come would have been by far the easiest way out. They'd have been free and clear before anyone important among the kidnappers even knew their sanctuary had been breached. Sure, they owned the town, more or less, and he couldn't relax until they were clear of the radar, but getting out quickly and without having to fight would have been a good start. It looked as if he'd have to do it the hard way. Rak did not, superficially, look especially strong. More like an athlete than a weight-lifter. yet his body was lithe and wiry, containing hardly an ounce of surplus fat, and he'd carried far heavier than her. Nonetheless, any observer would have been flabbergasted by how easily he lifted her, as if she were made of papier mache. He bent, and in a single move lifted her clear of the chair, and over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. It did little for her modesty, for the activity pulled her blouse entirely free of her skirt, which in itself fell upwards, following the angle of her body, revealing champagne-colored panties of a modest French cut, yet obviously as expensive as the rest of her attire. He was amused to notice that the crotch of her hose had sagged several inches - it was as well she didn't have to run, or she'd be hobbled by them! Holding her steady with his left arm, and with the tranquiliser-gun held out before him, he kicked open the door, and listened, stilling even his breathing. He'd have liked to have covered her mouth, and not for the first time in his life gave a silent curse that the process of evolution had seen fit to equip out species with just two arms. He could have gone up the rickety steps that led from the cellar totally silently, and at a run, but hampered by his burden, it was a case of one or the other. A run would make them creak, and bring attention upon them, but with any luck he could win clear before the remaining guards could organise themselves. Against this. silence would mean the possibility of a totally clean escape. Shh, shh, pretty one, he whispered. No sound at all. Get me? It took a good five minutes to get to the top of the steps, after which he paused another thirty seconds to make sure no-one was passing. Then, there was a fast run, along a corridor, and around a zig-zag bend in the passage. Ignoring the entrance door, he lowered his burden to the floor and, with a quick twist of his wrist, broke the catch on the window. Not even bars! This lot really were sloppy. He bent and hefted her again, lifting her over the frame, and unceremoniously dumping her on the ground. At this second, footsteps sounded behind him. What the fu -?! The tranquiliser gun fired twice in quick succession, emptying the magazine of two more darts, both of which found their mark. But the noise of the guards' bodies as they hit the floor destroyed any last chance of silence. More footsteps sounded in the passage outside, together with the sound of shouting. An alarm bell shrilled. Rak vaunted nimbly over the sill, and pulled a small bpmb from somewhere inside his jacket. He flipped a switch on the device, hurled it into the room and slammed the window shut. From behind the glass, smoke swirled. Should keep them busy for a few minutes, he said, as much to himself as her, as he sprinted across the grass towards where he had carefully hidden the nondescript car amidst a thicket of trees. Two minutes later he had thrust her into the front seat, turned the key and roared off in a flurry of thrown gravel. Now, allow me to introduce myself he said, turning towards her. Name's Rak Davidson. Ern... well, it's not, but it is right now. And I bloody well hope youre Savannah Moreaux, or I've just upset a lot of people for no good reason.