Augustine walked warily down the alleyway, the wind causing the leaves and trash to whisper about her feet. Her eyes were wide, capturing and using any bit of light that the moon and lamppost at the alley's entrance behind her would afford. The knife weighed heavy in her hand as she kept close to the wall, starting just a little when a rat ran across the way. She let out a breath slowly through her parted lips before continuing her path.
It was slow going in the shadows but after a good 30 feet, she knelt down to inspect some footprints. Her fingers sought out the familiar imprint of her partner's boot and not finding it brought an even grimmer mood than had held her to that point.
"Idiot," she murmured before standing up once more and traversing the remainder of the distance to the door that lead to what they had surmised together was the way into the boss' main hold. Augustine had warned him that they should make a supply run--their last run in taking most of their ammo. To top it off, she gripped the handle of her knife again, he had taken what was left with him on his macho, lone wolf, scouting though she had insisted they wait until morning.
Stopping outside the door, she leaned against the wall trying to settle her jitters. A rookie like herself, though she never liked to admit to it, shouldn't have to be saving her senior from his own pride. Trying the handle she found it to be unlocked. The pit in her stomach dropped further, doubting that it was carelessness on the side of the enemy that the door had been left wide open.
Another gust of wind, stronger than the last, unsettled a pile of garbage, something of glass crashing to the ground like a gunshot. She said a quick prayer before turning the handle and pushing the door quietly open. It revealed two sets of stairs--what looked like blood trailed down the descending set. Of course, she thought looking longingly at the set that went up--at least if they were above ground they could jump out a window or something.
From the light over the landing, she checked her watch. Backup was late... but she couldn't wait any longer. By her estimation, Joseph had been in enemy hands for almost 2 hours now. Giving the alleyway one more glance, Augustine slipped through the door, carefully shutting it behind her, not banking on the wind not slamming it shut before she wanted her presence to be made known. One more glance up the stairs, and she started to make her way down, carefully checking the stairs, hoping that there were no squeaky steps in this rundown place.
She nearly cursed when she found one halfway down, pausing in her descent to ascertain whether she would be discovered. After deciding no immediate alarm had been triggered, she continued her way to the landing thanking her lucky stars that it lead to another doorway, the door having been removed from its hinges at some past time.
At first she heard nothing as she pushed herself onward to the doorway, but when her ears did pick up sound, it was breathing--labored and muffled. She glanced back to the stairs, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down her temple as she crossed slowly into the room to find Joseph lashed to a chair under a light that flickered from time to time. "Marks," escaped her lips before she could stop it as she walked quickly to his side, dropping her guard.
He looked up in time to give a muffled cry of warning because of which she spun, knife at the ready and managed to slice into a meaty palm that had been aimed at her neck and she heard the attacker yell out in pained anger before he lunged at her again. Augustine managed to jump backward out of his reach only to be caught from behind by another who managed to wrestle her wrists into his hands and forcing her to drop her weapon, followed by a blow to her face.
Augustine looked up in time to see the hand raised for a second hit when a cool voice called it back. "Let's not go damaging the prettier of the two faces," he said and lights for the rest of the room flickered on but none so bright as the one held over Joseph's head. She probably would have laughed if it had been anyone else speaking--her face wasn't known for its perfection after all. However, not even Peters would have laughed when face to face with Vincent Roux.
Augustine did her best to stare him bravely in the face as he walked slowly to stand in front of her. "A little short for one in this line of business, don't you think Marks?" he directed at her partner but she didn't dare look away even to see Joseph's reaction. "Ah, but she does bear the trade well," he murmured, having taken her chin in hand to tilt her face up to the light. She was sure that he was giving her far more credit toward experience with the aged scars on her face. The real story was no less tied to the "trade" has he had referred to it, however.
Her older brother had been in the middle of a job when their parents had died and left their 12 year old daughter to his care, his being 13 years her senior. He had taken her with him to the next post only to have to shield her from the shrapnel of the bomb laid at his door. He had, indeed, saved her life--but had lost his own in the process and she bore the scars that had raked from her chin to her hairline on the right side of her face. Those who didn't know treated her with some degree of respect thinking she'd earned it in the line of duty while those who did know treated her with pity, the orphan, although 13 years had already passed.
Roux tsked lightly as he looked at the other side of her face where she could feel the already tender swelling of a bruise just below her eye but she kept her gaze on his face with unflinching determination.
Maybe I'll continue this some other day.
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