2011 06 15: Guardian Angel

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Mission Name: Guardian Angel
Date of Mission: June 15, 2011
Locale: Back alley in Chinatown

Eden gets a lead on her missing partner and follows it up. It appears their mutual employer doesn't trust her and sends a tracker.

fisher winter

Even during the day the alley is dark and shadowed by the surrounding buildings. The stench and build up of grim and debris is years old, the setting a dismal sight overrun with rats and the like. A figure is laying against the wall, shifting in the cold restless sleep that the steeling night offers. A dimly shed shadow falls over him as a slender grey hooded figure passes by, a bag hugged tight to the thin side. Blonde hair escapes in whisps and as the hooded head turns, a faint shed of pale skin.

Eve gives a roll of her shoulder and as she skirts around a dumpster, the call of a voice somehwere around the corner of the building echoes. The backfire of a car and the revv of an engine gives life to the wet dankness. A faint misting rain somehow makes it's way between the buildings, doing nothing to help cleanse the dirt.

She dips down into a lowered doorway, taking the steps swiftly as she pulls free a laptop from the bag. A long chord with a keycard attached is soon plugged in and the technology fired up. Fingers key up the passcode into the main screen and it flickers to life, throwing her face as she hooks the corded keycard into the slot along the right side of the steal door.

"Looks like our girl is finally making a move," remarks Fisher from behind the steering wheel of his Mustang. He whistles softly under his breath and with a glance to the side it's easy to tell just who he happens to be speaking to: a small dashboard plastic Hawaiian girl, her hips shaking with every bit of movement whenever it happens. He reaches forward to tap the little figure's right side and she bobs back and forth in reply. He grimly smiles and opens up the driver's side door in order to slip out after checking the rear view mirror.

It's been an entire week of surveillance. Things are finally playing out. He checks under his jacket for his concealed handgun with a casually shift of his hand before reaching for the door and bringing it to a snug close. The alarm is then set off and he circles around the front in order to look back and forth down the lengths of street. It's emptied of traffic, just parked vehicles. He crosses and moves to the other side of the street before circling back around in order to walk toward the entrance of the alley.

Fisher checks a wristwatch for the time, counting the seconds passing. He then turns into the alleyway and ignores the pungent, rank smell in order to continue onward. His gaze glances upwards every few moments in gauging fire escapes or stray lights and back entrances, stoops, dumpsters. He's listening and keeping careful.

Setting herself on the stairs, laptop perched on her knees as she keys in a few command and starts up the decoding process. Grey eyes narrow as she watches it carefully begin the filtering process. Eve looks up at the door and then around, left along in the flickering light that is shielded by a thin wire grating. Her head tilts slightly to the side as she gets a few soft clicks in notification that the strip is being coded with the needed keys.

A green light flashes in reflection in her eyes and she stands, hugging the laptop closed, the slim casing slide into the bag as she passes the card through the door with a soft beep of approval. Another green light, small gives her the cue to open the door. A shuffle of her feet and as she opens it, she slides it into place to keep the heavy door propped open before she is hooking that backpack out of the way. Everything is stowed swiftly with practiced ease and she lowers her hand to place a prop for the door, sliding in, the room is dark except for a very wan incandescent further through the racks that make the maze of this subfloor.

She presses her back to the wall, hand sliding to the taser attached to the belt. Another heavy weapon is a reminder against her right hip, but that one she lets alone.

A slow breath is released and she starts forward, hand lifting to carefully guide her forward through the plasticed goods on the shelves towards a desk in the far corner - tucked below some worn stairs leading up into the basement.

Fisher needs to speed up without bringing attention to himself. That's going to be particularly tricky in a grimy, littered and filthy place as this alleyway. He looks around at the flooring before passing the lower limbs of a homeless person, ignoring the man for the time being given that he doesn't seem particularly interested in the world at hand at the moment to begin with. He passes by the smell of strong brandy and soon enough comes to the entrance. There's a look to the prop holding open the door and he then elbows the heavy door open a bit further in order to slip in after her. Using the back of his jacket, he lets the door shift back into place against the prop holding the door open.

Now that he has entered the realm of the illegal, he keeps to being deathly quiet lest he disturb more than just his current mark. Slowly but surely, he begins heading after her down a different set of racks. The shelves are looked to every few moments while he puts on a pair of leather gloves snuck out of a pocket. This better be worth it.

That backpack is unslung and without disturbing the chair, she removes the slim highpowered laptop, sliding it open with her fingers moving. She is already powering it up as she whips out new cords. Her gaze lifts as she hears the creak of floorboards overhead and she doesn't freeze. No, she keeps moving, now with more urgency. Someone is home.

Cords are plugged in and uncoiled to the tower of the computer station. Its decently hooked up and she is quickly setting the computer to sort through searches for Lambda, Gregory, Fisher, and a few other search markers. They will automatically be placed in a sectioned off drive. With that done, her own plastic gloves are brought out and she is making work of the file cabinents. As they are sealed and locked, she mutters and pulls out a small set of lockpicks, she leans in, going to work.

The floorboards creak above. But that will not be a problem. From Fisher's angle, he will take note of a crack in the wall and it appears that there is a inset door that is made to look hidden.

Fisher comes to an eased stop and glances skywards to the noise of steps overhead. He unconsciously holds his breath. As if that would help, and knowing it won't he lets it out between pursed lips. He should get out of here before something but rather than do that he continues to walk forward at a slow pace in order to catch up with where Eve is; to, in the end, at least better look over her, do his job. The man comes to a stop again though and leans towards the walling nearby in order to eye it over all the more. He reaches out with his left hand to run his forefinger along where the wall separates and a hidden door begins. After leaning his head closer, he listens and turns his gaze off toward Winter's general direction. Dare he reveal himself before something happens?

For now Eve is not thinking of lurkers, she is thinking of the obvious and as she gets the top file drawer open, she is quickly tugging out documents, searching through them with a fan of paper. Finding nothing, she dips her head and pulls out a small led flashlight. Clicking it on, she holds it between her teeth and leans in to begin to pluck at separate files. She is going swiftly, but she shakes her head, closing the drawer and she goes to the next. Her gaze narrows and as she is about to close the second, she stops, yanking out the folder and reading the label. As much as she was good with technology, hard copies were precious and hard to come by nowadays.

Drawing a breath, she moves to backpack, stowing the file quickly before starting to go through the rest of the files. Whatever she had done, it had triggered something silent because that hidden door that Fisher stands next to ellicits some sound an a soft hiss sounds as it is pulled open, light shining out as a figure takes shape. A nondescript man in his early thirties is stepping out, pulling free a gun.

It happens to be just Fisher's luck that he has found the door and now it is opening. He tries to figure out if it is good luck or particularly bad when he at first takes notice of a pistol and then the arm of a man soon after. He holds his breath and closes his eyes for a lingering moment in trying to come up with an idea, anything. He settles for reopening and mentally cursing his mark's snooping before taking a half-step forward and closer to the opened doorway. With stepping forward do his hands come up in order to grab the hand with the gun and place the bulk of his weight against it, aiming to disarm before swinging for the face with an upwards elbow.

Even is too caught up in what she is currently doing to notice or hear the opening of the door. Checking the progress of the computer, she is tucking a few more files away. The man however that is rudely surprised makes a grunted noise just as the elbow connects and sends him stumbling back. Surprised as he is, there are others inside the room and one reaches for something. Suddenly the power goes down to the technology and Winter is thown in utter darkness. A backup generator flares to life and the backroom that Fisher is near is underlit as is some runner lights to the storeroom. The shuffling upstairs is now directed and the door to the stairs opens.

Gasping at her luck, Eve grasps for her back pack, unhookng the computer and slamming it inside, fumbling with the zipper, heart racing as she gasps and turns, pulling up her gun and backing herself up so that her back is protected. She sights down the gun as if ready to take out the shadow that starts to grow and finally the figure turns about the edge of the stair well. She looks nervous as she wets her lips and holds the gun up with both hands, trembling a little.

This all doesn't bode particularly well but Fisher continues to take charge of the situation. The handgun falls to the ground and doesn't misfire, just his luck, which leads into double-checking that the man with a wounded face has retreated back into the hidden room. The lights drop and he reaches blindly down in the dark for the handgun, finding it just prior to the lights flickering back on in strength. He winces at the corners of his eyes in order to adjust to this new level of brightness just prior to take a better grip of the pistol and depressing the magazine release.

He takes the falling magazine from the air and throws it into the secret room towards a figure before stepping past and to the other side, closer to Eve's side. Fisher then fires blindly into the hidden room - hoping there is a chambered round in the process - and aims for the walling before dropping the gun and heading for Eve. He'd rather not stick around. "You, put that gun down and come with me. I'm here to help." He's not sticking his head out there though, not fully, just in case she wants to shoot at him while he's in cover and in the middle of watching his buying time tick quickly down.

She trembles a bit more as she readies to fire, but instead, the commotion to her side causes her to turn slightly. The runner lights in the storeroom are low and she keeps the bag between her legs, holding all she has come for. The prompting earns Fisher a stare as the gun aims his hidden direction. "I will shoot.." She says and releases one hand to lower towards the bag between her legs, grasping for it and lowering her gaze to make sure its closed.

The words between the two of them are heard by those coming down the stairs and cautiously a man rounds the corner, taking slow steps towards her exposed side. The man is cautious at first but when he gets close enough he is moving towards her, grabbing at her arm with the gun and slamming it into the desk so that she cries out wincing as the gun clatters to the floor, sliding behind the desk and out of sigh. He presses her down against the desk, her cheek slammed against it, her eyes stare towards Fisher at this angle. "Get your hands off me.." She growls and tries to twist free.

Of course the woman doesn't listen to him. Why did he even bother in the first place? Fisher looks around his shoulder to the hidden room but firing one round and breaking the nose of someone isn't going to keep them back there for long. He doesn't even know how many are back there, so he improvises. His sense of improvising just means walking forward from his point of cover with a grimace over his face and once near, now that Eve has been disarmed, he smashes his right fist into the man's face. That's what he gets for having his hands busy with her.

"We're going. Now," he tells her.

His hand is going to be sore in a minute or two. It's already stinging. These two points of fact are ignored so that Fisher can concentrate on freeing the woman from the man and look over his shoulder in the general direction of the concealed room every few moments.

Those within the room are getting armed and are starting to call out over a radio for help. Eve watches as the stranger that is Fisher takes a shot at the man holding her. As the man crumples to the side, slamming into the monitor she is moving. She bends down to grab the bag with what she needs and then eyes him. "Right." She mutters, "Like I didn't want to do that."

Eve quips at him but its not like she trusts him but those in the secret room are rounding the corner as she turns her back. A shot banks and slams into the wall next to her. She ducks and lifts her hands, gasping faintly as she curses, "SHIT!" She mutters and then is starting to move through the labyrinth.

"Says the blonde who doesn't listen the first time," mutters Fisher under his breath. The things he does for women. It's amazing he isn't dead yet. It's also amazing that she isn't dead yet either; but, the both of them are a work in progress at the moment and he is left to look around the room once more in gauging their chances, potentials, and routes. He could probably say more but at that instant a shot rings out and strikes the walling nearby. That happens to be his cue in shielding Eve with his body before following after her when she dips around. He's right behind her when she heads through the maze of shelves.

Not particularly satisfied with how fast she is moving, and she's moving quite fast, he blasts out from behind her: "Go!"

"Working on it!" She growls back at him. Eve has no time to argue with him, hood slipping free as that rough ponytail is freed. Her breath catches as she clips her shoulder on the edge of a shelving unit. As she sees the door, she lets out a sound of relief. Then suddenly it opens, a man lifts a gun towards her and she screeches to a halt. Trying to, her tennis shoes slip on the floor and the sound of the gun goes off. Her already leaning form is lurched back as the bullet slams into her shoulder, nearly spinning her around. She makes a sound halfway between a grunt and a cry.

She stumbles back and into the shelf, slamming into it as her hand lifts to the bleeding wound. "Fuck.." She manages as the man is now aiming down on her again, but catching the sight of Fisher is weighing the fact he might be an ally.

Fisher is in the middle of running, not drawing guns. So he is too slow to stop Eve from getting shot but he does happen to be fast enough to draw his sidearm when the woman is fired upon. "Wrong target," is muttered gruffly under his breath and he braces himself upon thumbing off the safety. Coming to a stop next to the fallen Eve, he fires three times in succession. He aims for non-critical points of the body before turning around in order to look the way they had been coming from.

There isn't anyone readily there and then he checks the entrance once more before crouching down in order to help the woman back up to her feet. "C'mon, I got you. Can you walk?" Pause. "We might want to leave now." He then looks up and extends his right hand, finger on the trigger in order to fire down the lane toward the incoming pursuers. He misses on purpose. The concussive blast of gunfire is disorientating enough for his tastes.

More gunshots and for the moment Even's world has spun down to slow moments as she grits her teeth. It hurts but part of the adrenaline wipes it down to a blinding understanding of what is going on. The man takes those three shots and jolts back, the door open to them as he groans and collapses to the outside stairwell wall. "Yeah..yeah.." Even answers as he turns to her.

She pushes up with his help and rights herself. The shot fired back down the openings between the shelves causes some hesitation as they take cover and before throwing a shot back. She is moving then, not hesitating as she steps over the man, pausing to give him a swift kick in the gut. She hisses and then is going up the stairwell, using the railing to pull herself up, blood dipping free and a brush of her bloody hand paints the wall. She looks down the alley and then starts to move, forcing herself to run as the bag hangs off one arm yet.

Fisher covers their retreat when she begins moving for the exit. He doesn't shoot anymore and turns before exiting out onto the alley proper, apologizing in passing to the man shot and kicked, and telling him that he'll live after a visit to the hospital. The object once used to prop open the door is looked to briefly, tossed aside during the commotion as it is, before setting the safety of his gun and holstering it in order to guide Eve down the alleyway. It's really not all that difficult. There's only one way to go. "Stop leaving evidence all over the place." He's not exactly happy about her bleeding all over the place, "Please," is added belatedly.

Fisher removes his leather jacket in the middle of moving. With it shed from the bulk of his torso, he moves in closer to clamp it over the woman's shoulders and ferry her towards the Mustang. A deft hand is able to disarm and unlock it prior to reaching the passenger side. "In you go," and she can meet the Hawaiian dashboard figure while he circles around the front to the driver's side before their pursuers find them.

"I will attempt to tell my wound to stop.." SHe mutters at him. Even nearly pulls away from him he clamps his coat over her wound. She hisses a damn it and she eyes the car. "Ummmm, I love the car but I am not getting in there. My bike." She says and turns to see it parked down the street near the corner waiting for her. She is about to head that way when his 'persuasive' push into the passenger side ends that. She hits the seat and a nice little bit of red mars it for a moment and then she is lifting her head to see the little bobbling dancer on his dashboard.

As the door closes behind her, she looks over at him getting in the driver's side. "Who the hell are you?" She stows that bag between her legs, leaning back as she keeps her coat clamped over her shoulder. Her eyes close and she grits her teeth.

"Yeah, I know about the bike." Fisher isn't too worried about that just yet. He just calculates that she wouldn't be able to make it there fast enough while wounded. He does take a moment out of their currently busy schedules in order to look at where her shoulder's hit his leather seat. The man keys the ignition with his right hand and reaches across with his left hand, pulling the jacket up in order to keep her from bleeding on his seat. "Your guardian angel," says he in the middle of hitting the gear shift and clutch, powering through the motions of pushing the Fastback forward. "We'll come back for your bike when you're not bleeding out."

He looks up to the rearview mirror before pulling around a corner. "You can call me Fisher."

"Never had one before.." Eve manages and as the mention of retrieving her bike comes up, she looks away from her wound to him. She studies him, not recognizing him at all. "I am not sure I want to call you anything but stranger for now.." She murmurs and looks out the window seeing no one thus far, she lets out a breath, fingers curling at the top of the bag.

"Fisher, where exactly are we going." She grips her hand still over that wound, her head tilting to look at him. There is a fearsome look of determination edged in the furrow of her brow - ignoring the pain from the gunshot as best she can.

Fisher happens to be perfectly fine with being called stranger, but he does look over questioningly to the woman when she brings it up. It leads into a brief if not wry smile before he checks her sideview mirror and contents himself that they aren't being followed just yet. "My place, if you don't mind. Unless you want to go to a hospital and explain a gunshot wound." He looks to the Hawaiian girl.

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