In the Line of Fire || Mihai

[Lukas Iversen]

"We don't bleed when we don't fight"

Lukas + Mihai

---

He had never meant to end up like this. Maybe he had been a bit too rash, a bit too confident and careless, but this job had supposed to be easy. No infiltrating criminal organizations or sneaking into an army officer’s private chambers to steal classified documents. No, this had been a routine job with little risk and little profit; seek out a certain person, buy them a few drinks, chat with them until they loosen their tongue enough to give him what he needs, and be home in time for dinner. Yet somewhere between the second pint and the third, things had gone south fast. Really fast. One second he had watched the gruff man chug down his ale with a pleasant smirk on his face, the next the man’s fist had connected with his jaw hard enough to send him tumbling off his chair.

Lukas cursed under his breath and spit on the filthy, wooden floor. It seemed the bleeding had stopped, but his lip still stung like hell. Damn it all. He should have known better. He had expected his source to be suspicious. Everyone would be suspicious if a stranger suddenly started asking questions. That was why he had gone to the trouble of finding out the man’s usual hangouts and getting him drinks in the first place. Why he had spent the better part of the evening chatting about the asinine things he had no interest in whatsoever, asking mundane question that didn’t lead anywhere, before even daring to hint at the subject he was truly after.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was the fact that his client and his source actually worked for the same person.

He was perfectly aware that after years and years of sneaking about and spying for about everyone and anyone, there were bound to be some who held grudges for him. He had no loyalty to give anyone, and it seemed that gave some people urges to try to bury a knife in his neck. And really, he would’ve preferred the knife to this. A real fight he could stand losing; that would just mean he hadn’t been strong or fast enough, and he had never been the most able when it came to physique. But losing to someone in his very own game like this? The mere thought made him grit his teeth so hard his lip started bleeding all over again. He was going to hunt that bastard client of his down once he got himself out of here, and once he was done with him he’d get his revenge on his friend as well.

Tugging at his bindings, he looked around for the hundredth time to see if there was something of use in the room and once more was disappointed. He wasn’t sure where he was, having been knocked out by the second punch, but judging from what he could see in the darkness it was some kind of storage room. The walls were lined with shelves and there was a big chest in one corner, though it also seemed it had been abandoned some time ago. The air was stuffy and he thought he could hear rats rustling somewhere.

One of the pipes in the ceiling let out a high whistle and a puff of steam. Even if this room was abandoned, it appeared the entire building wasn’t. The bastards who had managed to catch him were probably using it as their hideout. Well, he figured this stinking rat hole was a fit residence for them. But he much preferred his own home and bed, and had no intentions of spending the night no matter how hospitable his new friends were, so he leaned forward and again gave the ropes a sharp tug. It still didn’t do much else than make his wrists hurt more, the bindings biting into his skin, but he wasn’t just going to give up either. He wasn’t exactly eager to find out what the people here had in store for him.

If only he could reach his knife… He could still feel the comforting weight of it pressed against his calf inside his boot, yet another proof that the petty criminals who had caught him were idiots who shouldn’t have been able to outsmart him. The knife was useless to him though, as long as it was out of his reach. And even if he had it right there, it would still be difficult to reach behind his back to cut the ropes by himself… Letting out a sigh, Lukas rested his head against the wall and tried to think. If only his head wasn’t throbbing too he might’ve been able to think more clearly.

He was starting to toe off his right boot in an attempt to get his knife when the silence from the last couple hours was suddenly broken by a loud a metal door opening somewhere, followed by muffled voices of at least two men. Letting out another low hiss of a curse, he slipped his foot properly into his boot again. The voices kept coming closer, and once they reached the door Lukas could clearly recognize the smooth, grossly pleasant voice of his original “client”. Really, he should’ve guessed something was wrong from the beginning; that was the tone of voice he always used when trying to charm his way into the hearts of unsuspicious people.

As he heard keys rattling and the door was unlocked, he sat up as straight as he could, staring at the door with the steeliest glare in his repertoire. If those idiots were stupid enough to untie him for even a second before shooting his brains out, he would make sure to take least one of them with him.

[Mihai Roșu]

He'd been told that this part of town was particularly unruly, but he'd brushed off the warning. He'd dealt with unruly--all sorts of unruly, in fact--and he didn't think there'd be anything that would be much of a threat to him as long as he kept to himself and didn't attract the attention of more than five people at once. The small risk was preferable to hanging out in his temporary lodgings anyway, and it had been awhile since he'd attended a fight. Since he was able to eavesdrop and catch wind of its particular location in this city, why not? Plus, if he were lucky, perhaps he'd be able to mount a sort of reconnaissance mission too, although it wasn't exactly his priority, but surely the other Suns would appreciate new information as well. There was a reason that this city in particular had been vexing. As rumor had it, a new criminal ring had sprung up, a group which called themselves Spiders and targeted labor unionists, and thus raised questions as to what their purpose truly was. The Sun Society, for their part, had been placing their bets on the ring being paid by the big steel company running its headquarters in the city--Carnegie Industries. Criminals, supported by the law, hiring other criminals to deal with those they claimed to be criminal. If the irony would ever cease to surprise people, Mihai couldn't say.

In any case, the chance was a slim one. He wasn't part of the group working on investigating the Spiders (he was only in the city by chance due to his legitimate occupation) so he wasn't exactly updated on the latest intel regarding the group. Honestly, if the people assigned to work on it hadn't uncovered anything, it was unlikely that he would. If anything, he should probably just be counting on a day of watching mecha fights, which was as good a pastime as any, since he found himself particularly intrigued by trying to speculate how some of the machinery worked. Nikolai had shown him the basics, but each design varied in their choice of weaponry and prioritized attributes, so it was always a pleasure to watch. Given the chance of witnessing a useful enough apparatus in action, he'd make a mental note of it to describe to Alfred later to see if it could be incorporated into his prosthesis.

After ensuring that his prosthesis was covered by a long-sleeved jacket and a pair of gloves (so that no one would think to disarm him--haha--in case he did run into trouble) he spent a good couple of hours on the stands, watching as competitors came and went. When it struck five, however, he was beginning to feel a little hungry, so he left his place and went wandering in search of food. He'd just bought a pastry from a vendor outside and was nibbling on it, getting a bit lost in unfamiliar alleyways around the building as he tried to find the entrance again, when he stumbled upon a most unfortunate scene. He heard it first, rather than saw it, muffled voices from which he could only make out certain words. He imagined, from their angry tone of voice, they must be a debt collector for the gambling ring, which wasn't an uncommon fixture, but he'd never had much love for debt collectors in the first place. He'd already had half a mind to interfere when one of the parties spoke again, this time within earshot.

"Listen to me, dear friend," came a coldly smooth voice, different than the angry one he'd heard before. "Our higher-ups only request that you dissolve your union."

Half a mind became an entire mind then, and Mihai inched closer to the alley where the confrontation was taking place. If these men were Spiders, then the suspicions would be as good as confirmed. He knew he should take that information back to a contact as soon as possible, but he'd always liked doing more than talking, so turning away now and doing nothing would be nothing short of a betrayal of his own priorities.

"Even if I leave, you know someone else would take my place," said a third person, their voice gruff, yet it would have been impossible to miss the slight waver. Well, it would be hard not to be intimidated by the seasoned criminals that the Spiders were rumored to be. Mihai's foot nudged a glass bottle, and he quietly bent to pick it up, clutching its cool neck in his palm.

"That will be our concern," the other voice was saying, but Mihai didn't wait to hear how they finished. He pushed off the cobblestones with a light step, too quiet for the small congregation to hear until he was close enough to bring the bottle down over the head of the tallest man, assuming he'd be the most logical to take out first.

He would've shouted 'go!' if he could, but as he couldn't, he simply spun on his heel and started sprinting down the way he came, and he hoped that whomever the men were messing with got the message as well. He realized he hadn't exactly had a plan for what he was going to do after getting their attention. He supposed 'run' was decent enough, but obviously he didn't exactly take into account that they knew the alleyways much better than he did, as evidenced when he rounded a corner and met face to knuckle with someone's fist instead.

So that hadn't exactly been his best thought-out rescue. He supposed he oughta consider himself lucky that he was waking up on a cold wooden floor rather than the bottom of a grave, though granted, it didn't exactly do much for the slight sting in his nose. All it took was a couple of sniffs to figure out that it'd been bleeding, though it seemed to have stopped along the way to wherever they'd taken him. He did still have a raging headache though, and he reckoned that having one's lights punched out tended to do that. His wrists were tied too, restrained behind his back, and apparently his sneak-attack had made them deem it necessary to immobilize his legs too. Well, thank God it was rope, he thought after testing the bindings. He would've been in more trouble if they were cuffs.

With a frustrated hiss as the only way to voice his discomfort, he maneuvered himself into a sitting position and tried to get his bearings. The structure he was leaning against felt metallic--the door, perhaps? He doubted the entire place would be made of steel unless he'd been tossed into a bunker or a vault. He squinted into the darkness, trying to make out more of the (what he assumed was a) room. A couple of rectangle-shapes and a bigger rectangle-shape, some squiggly things on the ceiling, and another vaguely person-like figure. Hopefully they weren't dead, Mihai thought with a small shudder, not exactly feeling the appeal of sitting in this room with a corpse. He couldn't exactly call out to verify, however, so he curled his fingers around a joint of his prosthesis, and with a click and the sound of tearing fabric, a long knife dislodged itself from the forearm. Wasting no time, he began to work his hand back and forth as much as the bindings would allow, which became easier as each loop of rope began to give. With nothing breaking the silence but the sound of whistling pipes and tearing rope, he waited for the other person to talk--if they could.

---

Lukas Iversen: Here to save Norbabe >u>

[Lukas Iversen]

Staring into the darkness, Lukas tried to make out the shape of the other man sitting in the other end of the room. He was slumped against the wall, chin resting on his own chest in a manner that suggested he wasn’t going to come to anytime soon. He’d caught a glimpse of him when they’d brought him in, unconscious and face covered in blood, and even though they had bothered to tie him up and leave him here Lukas wasn’t all that sure the man was even alive. Hopefully he was, though that still wouldn’t mean he’d be of any use to him. The guy had appeared young and lithe, from what he’d been able to see from the blood and his own eyes hurting from the sudden burst of light in the room, and it was highly unlikely he had any sort of experience in getting out of tough spots like this one. If anything, he was probably just going to panic when, if, he woke up and fill the last hours of his life with endless whining and pleading and questions of why me.

And wouldn’t that be just great.

Sighing, Lukas poked his knife now lying on the floor in front of him with his toe. He’d gotten it out after his captors had dumped the man on the floor and left again, but he wasn’t sure what he should even do next. He’d thought his chance had come when the door had opened, he’d been prepared to bet everything on the slim possibility that the men would untie him or at least try to take him out of the room. He’d been prepared to fight, but instead all that’d he’d gotten had been a glimpse of a light-filled hallway and a knocked out stranger to ‘keep him company’. Except his company wasn’t really that great at the moment. He would’ve had better time trying to talk to the rats instead of this guy.

He poked the knife again and slid it slowly towards himself. If he’d been able to get his tied hands to his front the blade would’ve proven more useful, but he’d found that not only was he tied up, he was also tied to the piping lining the walls. Though old and rusty, his attempts at ripping them out or breaking them had so far been unsuccessful. Still, he gave it one more try for good measure and— nothing. Not even a budge. He gave his fellow captive another look, but it seemed even he was unfazed by his struggles, still as dead to the world as the knocked over chair lying beside him on the floor. 

Lukas gave a small snort of bitter amusement and settled back to a more comfortable position. Which really wasn’t all that comfortable. His wrists hurt, his shoulders hurt, his head was pounding and his lip stung. What hurt the most was his pride, though, and there was no cure for that aside from getting out and stabbing those responsible in the gut. Or just getting out. He did want revenge, but he wasn’t stupid enough to go seeking for a fight on purpose. He valued his life more than ensuring his captors got what they deserved.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but his musings were suddenly interrupted when he heard quiet shuffling from the other end of the room. For a second he wondered if it was the rats again, but then he heard a somewhat pained hiss that was distinctly human. It seemed like his new friend was alive and finally waking up. Still and silent, he tried to see more clearly in the dark as he could tell the other man was moving around, but considering he’d yet to say anything he either hadn’t noticed him yet or he wasn’t conscious enough to speak.

“Hey, you alive?” He asked, coughing a bit as he suddenly noticed how thirsty he was. Yet there was no answer, even though he could clearly see now that the man was doing something. “Hey, I’m talking to you. Did they punch you so hard you bit your tongue?”

---

Word count: 693

[Mihai Roșu]

As he tried slowly to saw through the bindings (preferably without stabbing himself in the rib) he tried to figure out where the hell he was and what the hell he was going to do after this. 'Get the fuck out' seemed like the obvious answer, though easier said than done. Perhaps if the building's layout were simple, finding his way to the exit would be a matter of logic, but even now he couldn't venture a guess as to how large the complex was. He wondered if this was even the Spiders' main base of operations (in which case, would contain a wealth of useful information), or if they'd just taken him someplace temporary. There was also the additional concern of whoever else might be in the building, guarding them, guarding the premises itself. He only assumed there would be a guard, of course, but if they'd gone through the trouble of keeping him alive and locking him up somewhere, someone would need to keep checking up on him. Unless they'd decided that attacking one of their men warranted a slow death by starvation. It wasn't exactly what he considered an appealing thought, and he hoped even more that the other person-potential-mannequin in the room was alive and not a macabre warning as to his own fate.

Those hopes were granted a few moments later when the silhouette spoke up. Oh, goody. That relieved Mihai somewhat, though he couldn't exactly express it out loud, nor could he exactly reply to the stranger's question. Perhaps the other would think it rude, but he was used to being in situations where his silence was taken for rudeness, so he just kept concentrating on cutting through the rope--their question could be answered later.

Finally, with one last motion, the bindings loosened enough to slip over his wrists. He shook out his hand, then took a moment to lean against the door and listen for movement without. He heard nothing, but that could either mean no one was there, or that the door was really thick. He was hoping for the former, but he wasn't going to wait around to find out, since he had no idea how long he'd been unconscious nor when their captors would next return. With a small click, he slotted the blade back into place, and flicked out the one in his fist to start on the ropes binding his legs. Thankfully, it took not nearly as much effort as before, and within a minute he was tearing off the remnants of his left sleeve and lighting the cloth up for some method of illumination.

He held up the now-burning cloth, casting away some of the shadows in the room, revealing that the rectangle shapes he'd noticed earlier were in fact a few drawers and a cabinet. Then, he turned his attention towards the person (yes, person, he confirmed to himself. Not corpse, not mannequin). By flickering flame, he could just make out delicate features and a head of pale hair that reflected the glow of the fire. It looked like the other man had been hit pretty badly as well, if the split lip was any indication. Mihai cast him a sympathetic look, and had the passing thought that it was quite deplorable someone would go after such a pretty face, and he had every intention of freeing the other, of course. He just needed some decent lighting for that, so he skulked around the room before finding a rusted, broken-off section of pipe he used to create a makeshift torch, then stuck it haphazardly in a drawer to keep it upright. With that single source of illumination, he pushed his own blade back into its sheathe before grabbing the one discarded on the ground. It probably belonged to his fellow captive, he thought, which said something about the Spiders' carelessness. Well, that could work out in their favor.

Mihai settled down behind the man and began to cut at the ropes, remarking upon his thin build and wondering whether he'd be very dangerous at all. It could be a fatal mistake to judge someone by the way they appeared, but he also looked less likely to rip Mihai's head off than the Spiders he'd earlier encountered, which was as good a sign as any. Besides, he'd gotten caught because he was interfering in the Spiders' business in the first place, so he may as well go the whole length of it. He wasn't going to leave someone here to their luck.

[Lukas Iversen]

There was still no answer from the other man, even though it was clear now that he was perfectly conscious. When he stayed silent, he could hear the rustle of the man’s clothes as he shuffled around and something that sounded like a sawing motion. Could it be he had a knife with him as well? He hadn’t been checked for weapons (not very thoroughly at least) so it was entirely possible the other man had managed to keep some sort of weapon too.

His suspicions were confirmed a few seconds later when he saw the man move against the door. It was still dark, but he could at least see the man’s silhouette and that was enough for him to tell that he’d managed to undo the ropes. No bound man moved like that. Yet, when he heard a small click followed by more sounds of tearing ropes, a sense of dread settled in his stomach and dimmed the flicker of his newly found hope for escape.

“Hey..” He tried again, more quiet and careful. The man was clearly equipped with a weapon and using it to set himself free, yet that didn’t mean he’d be kind enough to do the same for him. He was a total stranger, he had no reason at all to untie his ropes and help him escape as well. After all, it would be a lot easier for one person to slip out of the building unnoticed than it would be for two.

There was a small flicker of light as the man lit something up, and as it burst into a bigger flame he squinted his eyes at the sudden brightness. Still, being able to see again was much more comforting than just sitting in the darkness, and he could actually make out the other man’s features as he came closer. His face was still covered in blood and his eyes gleamed almost red in the firelight, giving him a somewhat terrifying appearance that the metallic prosthetic peeking through his torn sleeve only amplified. Yet a second later the look in the man’s eyes softened, and with that came the reassurance that maybe he wouldn’t be left behind after all.

“What are you doing?” He asked as the man stepped away from him and started to look around the room. He didn’t really expect an answer at this point so it didn’t surprise him when he was given none. It was clear that the man either didn’t want to or couldn’t talk, and while that did complicate things some he was pretty grateful for his presence anyway. Watching the man as he moved about, he wondered who he was and were he’d come from, what he’d done to deserve to be beaten and tied up like him. Those questions could be answered later, however, if the answers even mattered. The only thing that was important right now was that he could trust this man enough to try to work with him to escape.

As the man approached him again with his makeshift torch and picked up his discarded knife, he felt both impatient and grateful. He couldn’t get rid of his own bindings fast enough; he’d already been here for a while before they’d brought this other man in. He leaned forward so the other could get a better access to the ropes behind his back, and tilted his head slightly to take a closer look at him as he set to work. In better lightning and up close he didn’t seem nearly as wild as he had moments ago, despite the blood on his face, and it was clear that he was still very young. Younger than him by a few years, at least. It made him even more curious about the other.

The ropes gave quickly under the sharp knife, and he felt relieved to have the tension off his shoulders at last. He rubbed his chafed wrists before pushing himself up and looking back at the other man. “Thanks.” He muttered, grateful to be free though his pride was bit injured by having to depend on someone else’s help. Reaching forward, he waited for the man to hand back his knife. He’d feel a lot better carrying a weapon in this place.

“You know where this place is?” He asked, hoping that the answer was yes. He had absolutely no idea himself, though he guessed they couldn’t be too far from the pub where this whole shitstorm had started. “I don’t know what they planned to do with you, but they certainly didn’t bring me over for tea and I’d rather get the hell out of here as soon as possible.” He scratched idly at the dried blood on his face and glanced at the man, then around the room. It didn’t look like there was anything useful in there, though. “Not sure we can just barge out like that, though. We need a plan.”

---

Word count:  825

[Mihai Roșu]

It must be slightly daunting to be tied up in an unfamiliar place with a silent stranger. He couldn't read the expression on the man's face very well, not between the flickering light of the makeshift torch and the shadows that strived to reclaim their place, but he was asking a lot of questions. Mihai would have liked to answer them, or to provide some reassurance that he wasn't dangerous or heartless–whatever the other might have been thinking–but trying to do that right now would only be wasting time. He was much more preoccupied with untying the man so they could both get out before their hosts came back to check on them.

Finally, he felt the ropes give way under the knife, and their captive was nothing short of eager to be rid of them. Mihai withdrew his hand, originally having intended to help him with that, but with the way he struggled, it would have been more of a danger than a benefit to have the blade so close at hand. He backed up a little as he watched the man shed the ropes then hold out a hand to him. Mihai glanced down at it, then back up again, taking a moment to realize that the knife must be the stranger's after all. He handed it back hilt-first, letting the other take it, before getting up and grabbing the torch to inspect the lock on the door.

He couldn't see well by the light of the flames, but the lock seemed like a fairly typical one, and he confirmed that thought by stripping off the glove of his right hand and running his fingers over it. If he wanted to get them out though, he'd have to do it fast, since his cloth was quickly burning up, and like hell he'd be able to pick a lock in the dark. He popped open yet another compartment in his prosthesis, struggling to keep the torch from setting everything aflame as he fumbled for his lock-picking tools.

“You know where this place is?” the man was asking, and Mihai shook his head. It was probably an answer the other didn't want to hear–well, see–but to be fair, neither did it please Mihai very much either. He could only guess that they weren't too far from the slums where the battle ring had been set, and that was where most of the Society's intel had been pointing anyway. All of a sudden, it struck him how opportune this was. Not as opportune as if he'd trailed the Spiders back to their hideout, but this was probably the second-best thing–if only he managed to get himself (and his newfound companion) out. He rather agreed with the notion that they weren't likely here as honored guests, and thus intended to shorten their stay as much as possible.

At the mention of a plan, he raised a dubious eyebrow, though he didn't think the man could see it. Right, so as far as he knew… They had between them one knife, and whatever Mihai usually carried around with him in his prosthesis. Neither of them knew where they were, which made it all the less likely that they knew the layout of the building, and the number of men who might be waiting for them outside was also probably marked with an unknown variable. So.. a plan?

Instead of his lock-picks, he pulled out a pen and the pad of paper he carried around with him, in case something like this happened. He scribbled a few words down on it before thrusting it in the stranger's face. The paper read:

THE PLAN
1. Unlock this door.
2. Try to get out.
3. Kill anyone who tries to stop us.

Primitive, but as far as he was concerned, that was all they had to work with. They were in the dark–quite literally–about most of the details of this situation, unless the other man had some new piece of advice to offer.

Assuming that new information wasn't going to be forthcoming, Mihai went back to his previous task of trying to pick the lock. Delicately, he slid the thin rods into the keyhole and began working them along the locking mechanisms, his brows furrowed and his lip clamped between his teeth in concentration.

SPOILER: Click to show

Lukas Iversen: Might do further editing when I wake up. uvu;

[Lukas Iversen]

He watched the man curiously as he studied the lock on the door and felt slightly reassured by the lack of uncertainty in his movements. It seemed like the other knew what he was doing, or at least that he had a pretty good idea how to get them out of the room. Of course, that would be only the first step and likely the easiest one in their try for freedom. When the man shook his head in response to his question, it only confirmed that notion. Giving a small sigh, he started to circle around the room and look through the shelves though it was clear that there wasn’t anything of use in the room.

His earlier suspicions that the man might be mute turned out to be correct when the man pulled out a pen and some paper (that prosthetic seemed to hold quite a few things) and gave his response in writing. He took the paper and squinted down at the scribbled writing, glad that he was literate and they at least had some way of communicating. “This is pretty vague.” He commented, brow furrowing slightly at the third point. Without neither of them knowing the way out nor the amount of enemies inside the building, it seemed highly optimistic to him that they’d be able to take down everyone who happened on their path. “And I’d rather try not to run into anyone in the first place.” Of course he would fight if he needed to, but stealth and secrecy were his preferred tactics and he’d rather stick to what he knew best when it was his life on the line.

“But I guess that’s as much as we can plan ahead.” He said, succumbing to his fate and the fact that this time he would have to deal with a feeling of uncertainty. As he watched the man go back to the lock and pull out some picking tools he took two seconds to thank lady luck that at least his companion was prepared for this sort of thing. He made a mental note to start carrying more tools with himself too in the future if they made it out of here alive, then gave one last look around the room while he waited for the man to pick the lock. This time he did notice a piece of a broken pipe in one shadowed corner, and though it was rusty and barely thicker than his thumb he picked it up and tucked it under the waistband of his pants. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to kill anyone with it, but if he lost his knife he’d still have something to protect himself with and break a nose or a couple teeth.

The light of the strangers torch was flickering, about to go out any minute now, and as he moved back to the door he hoped the lock would give sooner rather than later. His heart was starting to beat faster, adrenaline humming under his skin as he prepared to flight or fight the moment the door swung open. He pulled out his knife again and flexed his fingers, the weight of it familiar and soothing in his hand. And when the lock finally opened with a quiet click, he held his breath for a second, grasped his knife tighter and sought out the other’s gaze. “Ready?”

---

Mihai Roșu

[Mihai Roșu]

With his attention focused squarely on the lock, he couldn't see what kind of reaction the stranger had to his suggestion, but he certainly didn't miss hearing it. "This is pretty vague," the man said, and Mihai couldn't resist rolling his eyes in a No shit kind of way. It's not like he'd been suggesting that plan in all seriousness--moreso to be cheeky--because neither of them knew jack shit about the place they were in. The best they could do was to get out of their makeshift prison and hope they didn't run into anyone along the way, but that, ultimately, was really not up to them. It fell into the hands of Lady Luck, for better or for worse, but Mihai surely wasn't going to go out of his way to avoid people. He always found that the most efficient path was through them, not around them.

"But I guess that's as much as we can plan ahead," the man finally conceded, and Mihai nodded in agreement, glad that the other apparently realized exactly what kind of situation they were in. This wasn't a case where they knew all the variables, much less could control them. With that apparently resolved, he worked in silence awhile longer, holding his breath and squinting by the light of the dying torch until he felt the lock give with a quiet click. He hoped no one was outside, and if they were, that they didn't notice the door swinging slightly outwards.

His companion seemed to have noticed his success as well, and Mihai turned to snatch his pen and paper back and extricate his picks before giving a nod. He could already feel the slow buildup of adrenaline, coursing through his veins in a way that electrified him and wound him tight enough to snap. It would be the second time that day, after his botched rescue of the unionist, but it didn't seem to dull the jittery feeling as it began to thrum beneath his skin. He flicked out his own knife again, then braced his shoulder against the metal door. His eyes found the stranger's, and he gave another slow nod to indicate that he was about to move; then he dug his foot into the ground and pushed out with all his strength.

The door swung open without meeting resistance, and only came to a stop against the wall. The impact resounded with a dull clang, and Mihai winced at the sound, glancing down the empty hallways and hoping they wouldn't soon be filled by the thugs drawn to the racket. When no one came running, he slowly relaxed and straightened, and glanced back at his companion before he chose the hallway directly in front of them and started walking. Who knew what size this place was if the sound of the door hadn't drawn any attention. Moreover, he wondered what had compelled their captors to leave them without a guard--perhaps they'd been under the impression that ropes and a lock would have been sufficient to keep them trapped. Mihai didn't blame them. With anyone else, it would have.

Still, the peace was too good to last. It didn't take long before the distant sound of voices and footsteps reached his ears, causing Mihai to freeze and stop in his own steps. Unsure whether the other man heard them, he raised a hand to stop him and brought a finger to his lips, the universal indicator for silence. Listening intently for a moment longer and ascertaining that whoever was making those noises was definitely coming in their direction, Mihai started to back up into the wall and further down the hallway from where they'd come, dragging his companion with him.

Lukas Iversen

[Lukas Iversen]

There was no immediate sound from the outside when the door opened, an encouraging sign that there likely wasn’t anyone on guard right on the other side. While that was a relief, it hardly calmed down his racing heart as it didn’t mean that they’d make it out of the building unnoticed. They’d merely overcome their first obstacle of what was probably going to be many.

At the other’s nod, he followed his example and pressed against the door to help push it open, a task that they were maybe a little too successful in when the door ended up banging against the wall loudly. He shared the pained expression on his companion’s face, pressing closer to him as he too checked their surroundings to make sure no one was coming. It seemed luck was still on their side, however, as there was no one on sight, but that didn’t mean he felt much safer. That sound had been quite loud, and just because no one was here now was no guarantee that the situation would be the same in thirty seconds. Which was why he didn’t bother arguing his new friend about which direction to take, following him wordlessly down the corridor in front of them. With neither of them having a faintest clue about the layout of the building, the other’s guess was just as good as his, and the only thing he knew was that he wanted to get moving as soon as possible.

He didn’t say a word as he followed the other, not wanting to risk being heard by someone when anything he could’ve said would’ve hardly been of much use. Focusing solely on the dim corridor spreading out in front of them and the weight of his knife on his hand, he strained his ears to listen for the smallest of sounds that might indicate danger. So when his friend signaled him to stop and be quiet, he was already pressing against the wall and staring at the direction of the voices; he’d heard them too.

One look at the other confirmed that he wasn’t eager to risk it either, that they both would rather flight than stay and see if they could take down the people approaching. He let himself be dragged in the opposite direction, trying to move fast but quietly, his mind racing to assess all their options right now. They could run back to their cell, but if the people had been on their way to check on their prisoners, them, that carried the risk they’d end up having to fight and, if they lost, getting killed or locked up again. It made more sense to just keep running, but dashing down the corridors mindlessly wasn’t exactly the smartest idea either. They could end up running straight into the enemy that way.

He wasn’t sure if he kept hearing their pursuers getting closer or if it was their own footsteps and his mind playing tricks on him, but he knew he wanted some place to hide, now. So when the rushed past a door he noticed was just slightly open, with no light coming out, he decided to take his chances. Stopping abruptly, he tugged his companion to a halt as well, taking a few steps back to the door and peeking inside. It appeared to be a boiler room of some kind, most of the space taken up by pipes and machinery, but what really mattered right now was that it was empty. Gesturing at the other to follow, he slipped inside and pressed against the dusty wall to make room for his companion before pulling the door almost closed again.

For a short moment the only thing that cut through the silence was the sound of their own breathing, with the low whistling of the steam pipes in the distance. Holding onto his knife with one hand and to his companions shoulder with the other, he stared out into the corridor through the half-an-inch wide gap he’d left when closing the door. Then, he could hear it again, the voices and footsteps from earlier coming closer. He would’ve glanced back at the other if he’d dared to take his eyes off that small gap, but he trusted he was prepared to fight as well things came to that. As the people moved close enough to hear clearly, he held his breath, trying to make out what they were saying and squeezing at his knife harder as they finally passed by their hiding spot. He counted two, three, people, all male though he didn’t recognize any of them.

Once they’d passed, he waited a good seconds before daring to let out the breath he’d been holding. Pulling back from the door, he leaned against the wall and sought out the other’s eyes, giving him a small nod. They were fine for now, but it was probably best they waited another half a minute before setting out again.

---

Mihai Roșu

[Mihai Roșu]

He was calm in situations like these. It came with seeing enough protests, strikes, riots, facing down enough lines of police who shot gas and bullets at them. He needed to be calm if he were to give directions that could save them from arrest–better yet, save lives. High-pressure circumstances weren’t unfamiliar to him: it was his partner he was unsure about. The other was backing quickly away, overtaking Mihai for the lead, but since now wasn’t really the time to argue about who should be giving direction and who should be taking it, Mihai didn’t argue and let his companion pull them through a door.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting, then he saw what his companion had seen. It was nearly similar to their temporary cell, though quite a bit more cramped: pipes lined the walls and ceiling, connected to a large metal boiler. Several gages also displayed various measurements, though most of the indicators were dropped all the way down to zero. He guessed the Spiders hadn’t been using this place for long, or they weren’t planning on it. Hopefully that meant neither of the people heading down the hall were going to peek in here.

His companion had left the door open only a sliver, and from his position, Mihai couldn’t look into the hallway to see what was coming for them. He could just observe the other’s features, illuminated by a shard of light, and search for any indication that their situation was about to go from bad to worse. For the moment, he read only the nervousness in the other’s face–the tenseness around his eyes and the thin line of his lips–feel it in the way his fingers were digging into Mihai’s shoulder, his other hand clenched around the hilt of his knife. Mihai’s own gaze focused on the soft curl of the other’s hair over his ears, the blue of his irises, searching for danger as much as the places where light dribbled over him perfectly. It wasn’t the time to linger on these thoughts he knew, but what better moment was there, than with their breaths held tight and adrenaline sparking at the tips of their fingers?

The sounds of chatter and footsteps came closer, and he focused on the long brush of his partner’s eyelashes over his cheeks. His mechanical hand was fidgeting, fingers flexing and unflexing, grazing against the buttons and pressure points that would release knives, his gun. He would fight if he had to–his work came always with violence, in the fine print of the search for justice–but that didn’t mean he was eager for it. He quite liked his life, and this time, it wasn’t just his own that he should be concerned about. His heart thudded dully against his chest. He didn’t think their captors would look here: the two of them had been silent in their retreat, and no one ever ducked into a boiler room for a quick break. But possibilities inspired treacherous thoughts, even more so when all they could do was wait.

Between their breaths caught tight, the door that separated them, he waited.

And finally, the moment passed. He didn’t fully relax until their captors were out of earshot, his prosthetic stilling next to his thigh. He heard the sigh of relief his companion released, before he looked to Mihai. Their eyes met, and the other gave him a nod. That meant they were safe, he assumed, but his partner made no move towards the door. It was his turn to sigh; he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, especially if they were supposed to be afraid of the chance of those people turning back around and coming their way again. Not wanting to cause a fuss, however, he resigned himself to a moment of rest, dropping his head back against the wall of the boiler room.

He waited a moment, counting the seconds in his head, and when he heard nothing to indicate that their captors were coming back, he decided it was time to go. He stood upright again, fingers finding their way around to his companion’s sleeve and giving a tug towards the door. They should get moving, just in case those guys passed the makeshift cell and found it empty. Mihai squirmed out from between the wall and his companion, and pushed the door back open–much more quietly this time than he had done with their cell door. He peeked out, and seeing that the coast was clear, slipped out of hiding. He figured that following the way their captors had come from would lead them to the main operation quarters of the Spiders–but also hopefully closer towards the exit. That was the direction he started towards, following the hallway he believed from which they had come.

---

Lukas Iversen

[Lukas Iversen]

He closed his eyes as he waited and tried to come up with a plan what to do next, interrupted by the sigh coming from the other side of the room. He wasn’t sure if it was a relieved or an impatient one, but when he cracked his eyes open he saw the other man resting against the wall. He supposed neither of them was exactly eager to step outside their hiding spot, but they couldn’t stay here forever. Closing his eyes again, he took a deep breath, thumb brushing over the smooth edge of his knife. The cold steel felt comforting against his skin, a small but solid reminder that he wasn’t completely helpless.

And he wasn’t alone, either.

He opened his eyes when he felt a light tug on his sleeve, and found his companion looking at him. It seemed their time was up. Pushing himself off the wall, he trailed after the other, waiting for him to check the hallway before stepping outside himself. There was no one in sight, which unfortunately did little to improve his mood, but at least now they had some idea which way to go—they couldn’t very well follow the men from earlier and that left only one option, one that his companion was already starting to explore.

Quietly he followed after the other man, down the hallway and then another, expecting someone to jump them behind every corner they turned. But it was quiet and no one came, the only footsteps echoing around them their own, and it almost made him feel worse. Surely their luck wouldn’t last long enough for them to make it outside. It felt too much like they were delaying the inevitable.

He did, however, find some comfort in his companion; despite the severity of the situation, the other man was surprisingly calm. Like he’d dealt with something like this before. He didn’t look old, probably younger than he was, but he also obviously wasn’t some spoiled upper-class kid and he if anyone knew how rough it was living on the streets. And if that prosthetic arm was any indication, the man had had it rougher than most. The fighting pits, perhaps? Or some criminal organization? That would explain why he’d been captured and thrown into the cell with him, things between different gangs tended to get ugly a lot. Maybe he would find out where his new friend’s loyalties lay after this was over, but right now he was just happy to have someone cool-headed with him.

As they reached another crossing of hallways, he stopped. It wasn’t obvious which way they should go from here, but there was something that caught his attention and he reached out to pull at the hem of his companion’s shirt.

“Do you smell that?” He whispered as low as possible, nodding towards the hallway on their right. “Stinks like the old river Thames.” He managed a small smirk. There was no mistaking that smell, but it also had to mean there was an exit somewhere close by.

He didn’t get to wait for the other’s opinion, though, when there was suddenly a distant yell coming from behind them. It seemed their escape had finally been noticed. Not willing to wait around for them to be found, he started to hurry down the corridor on the right and tugged his friend along with him. Only this time, he thought he could feel other footsteps mixing with their own. He decided he’d liked the silence better, after all.

There was a door at the end of the corridor. He could see it, like a sweet promise of freedom in the distance. The voices were getting closer but so was the door, and for a moment he was sure they would make it. Until his hands slammed against the door and all his hopes came crashing down when he found it to be locked.

“Shit!” He hissed, pulling forcibly at the handle before letting go and glancing around them frantically. Shit shit shit. There was nowhere else to go. This was the only way out now, their only chance. “Can you pick that?” He asked his companion, squeezing around him so he could get to the door. He held up his knife and stared towards the end of the corridor, waiting for someone to come running down any second now. If it came down to a fight, he might just be able to buy the other a few extra seconds.

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Mihai Roșu