Flakes of orange and red rust scattered into the air as they fell through two more balconies, which snapped through webs of old wires, before finally crashing to the bottom.
An explosion of plastic bags, crumpling cardboard and clattering cans echoed through the narrow alleyway. The operatives plunged into a pile of trash.
Maria wrestled her way out of his tight embrace, gasping deeply, before immediately pinching her nose. Her face contorted in disgust from the scent surrounding her. She looked around and noticed Felix lying unconscious right below her, protecting her from the fall.
"Thanks…" She muttered, brushing his bangs to the side.
In the dim light, the two of them were sitting in an old alley, pressed between grimy brick walls plastered with faded fliers, covered with dangling wires, and rusted meters. She was surrounded by abandoned things; a discarded drawer, a torn up sofa, and an old dressing table with a shattered mirror reflecting the festive yellow lights.
Maria got up and squeezed through the corridor, following the sound of the festival. The faint pop of a firework echoing in the distance.
Her fingers grabbed the edge of the old walls and peered through. She saw metal gates of the building opened, and several of the men in uniform started marching out in search of them.
With a bead of sweat rolling across her cheek, and she rushed back to Felix, "Get up, we have to—"
A faint buzz stopped her mid-sentence, noticing a camera drone hovering right behind her.
But all it managed to capture was a glimpse of Maria's startled face, before a wooden chair came crashing its way.
As it shattered, Felix huffed, "Persistent gobshites…"
"You good?"
His face contorted, his arm trembling, "… Awful, what about you?"
"Alright so far, thanks to you. You know, besides getting shot in the back of my head." She shrugged.
"Right…"
"So, not to be the harbinger of bad news, they've opened the gate and are now looking for us, what do we do now?"
"They've probably locked onto our position because of that drone… Let me just—" He tried to get up, but his legs buckled beneath him. As he collapsed into the garbage, he muttered, "I can't… I can't move…"
His shoulder burned where the bullet had struck, while the rest of his body screamed in agony.
"Right. Now that the adrenaline's gone, just getting you to stand might be asking too much."
"Don't… underestimate me…" His voice strained.
"You're overestimating yourself, actually." She pinched his thigh, making him bite his lips. "You got shot just now, after getting shot at by Harbinger, plus the number of times you got shot just trying to get inside the building. Then you fell down two consecutive buildings. Thanks for protecting me both times, by the way."
"Hope that makes up for letting you get shot…" He grinned.
"Now, take off your coat." Maria stood up, walking towards the old drawer.
As she rummaged the contents, he deeply exhaled, "…What are you doing?"
"Making disguises. Luckily there's some old fabric in some of these." She tugged out a handful of worn, stained clothes, piecing them together.
"Do you have a thing for disguises?" He groaned.
"Not really, but that's why today was so fun. " She tossed him old clothes.
His eyebrows furrowed, "These stink…"
She folded his black coat into something that vaguely resembled a purse, "Yeah, well, I think death would stink worse."
"Head back to the robin." He groaned, putting it on, "We'll be able to hide in his booth… at least, long enough to get away."
As the fireworks decorated the sky, the two barely disguised agents evaded their pursuers.
No longer able to fight, the two operatives ran through crowds and navigated through alleyways. She was dressed in a dirty yellow, while he wore a vibrant red.
While the scent and stains still made them stand out, they were much less noticeable now, which was enough to let them switch between the corners and squeeze through corridors every time they saw a group of men in uniforms.
Slipping beneath the festival's dancing dragons, and disappearing with every flash of the fireworks, the two made their way to a particular stall in a particular street.
Maria knocked on the half-empty booth, exclaiming, "Word bird, we need favor. We have coin!"
"What are you talking about?" The durag wearing booth keeper asked, still chewing on gum. Balloons all popped behind him.
Felix inhaled deeply, then explained, "Do you think you could let us… hide here for a while? At least until we… have the chance to slip away." His hand pressing against the booth's wooden counter.
"Looks like you went through some shit. But if it's shelter you're looking for…" The booth keeper's smile faltered as he spotted a beige uniform moving through the crowds, "Probably not the best place to be here, they're gaining on you."
"Then… how about those?" Maria pointed to the wall, where the prizes hung.
"Huh, if you think that'll work." The old man picked out two masks from the wall, one pale white with blue markings and the other gold with red markings.
"Ta-da, superhero masks." He smiled with mild enthusiasm.
"Masks?" With an uneasy look, the blue-eyed operative picked up the pale mask with the sad face.
"Masks hides faces." He pointed to the crowds with his chin, "Look around ya, lotsa people are wearing masks tonight."
Felix glanced over to Maria, who had a pensive look while staring at her mask.
A small grin forming on his face as he put it on, "Look, Marie. We're superheroes, just like your movies." His voice was weary, forcibly upbeat.
"We're not heroes." Her response was cold, her expression hollow.
To which Felix lowered his mask an exhausted look, "R-right."
She changed her tune the moment his expression faltered. Quickly, she grabbed his hand and placed the mask back to his face, "Mhm… that's actually a good look for you."
"You're covering my face."
"Exactly." She beamed brightly, much to his chagrin.
The two turned their heads over to the side where they heard footsteps from the distance.
Several guards then came out of the corner and approached the stall. The man in the middle, the head guard from earlier, walked up and looked down on the robin.
"Anything I can do for you gentlemen?" The robin asked nonchalantly.
"We're looking for two people, a man and a woman with black hair. The two of them were wearing dark outfits. We saw them coming this way."
"I believe there are a number of couples out here tonight, sir."
"I'm not playing games!" He slammed his hand against the wooden counter, "The two of them went through here wearing what appeared to be rags from the garbage. One of them had a blue eye."
"Is that supposed to be like, a black eye?"
The head guard grabbed the booth keeper by his hair and slammed him against the counter. "I said I'm not playing games."
"Oh, those two?" The merchant groaned, his head spinning as he bled out of his nose, "They… they bought two hero masks a bit before you got here. They headed straight over there."
"Masks?" The guard inspected the old man's stall. "Which one?"
"Sorry sir, I don't have any to spare. But one was red and the other was orange." His face twitched as he spat out the gum.
The head guard raised an eyebrow as he barked orders: "Surround the town — two suspects, red and orange masks. Find them."
Once the sentries vanished down the street, the two agents crawled out from beneath the stall.
"Thanks a lot, old man." Without looking behind, Maria quickly ran.
"And those credits?" The old man asked.
Felix turned around, "I'll be sure to credit you accordingly."
The robin weakly chuckled, wiping the blood dripping down his chin, "It better be a lot of credits."
Felix's eyes widened before changing into a smirk and nodding.
"Of course." He put on the mask and followed after Maria.
Though the sentries unsettled the crowd, the festival churned on—bright, loud, too alive. Ignorant to the violence that occurred just a few steps away.
With masks hiding their faces, the two operatives blended better into the crowds. But as soon as they were out of sight, a gunshot cracked behind them, followed by a wooden thud.
Screams of fear and panic erupted from behind them.
Maria stopped in her tracks, instinctively drawn to the sound. But before she could turn her head, Felix grabbed her hand.
She looked at him and saw the blood stain the fabric on his back.
He squeezed her hand. She understood and kept moving.
Both operatives knew who it was and why it happened. It was simply the consequences of their line of work, collateral.
As the civilians started to run, they hurried up their pace, disappearing into the crowds.
~