Thorne braced an arm against the damp alley wall and willed his limbs to steady. His heart thrashed in his chest. He was ready. If he moved now, it would be safe, easy.
He thought, dimly, of his uncle's words 'Running is also a skill. No kidding.' Thorne had a sudden urge to use that skill right now, but found his legs numb.
The hero's attack had sent Rudy on a swift departure from the loading zone. Fortunate for the two people he had held hostage in his limbs, He hadn't booked them tickets for the flight. After he let them go, they fell, hard, groaning on the pavement they scraped themselves up.
The guy, maybe in his thirties was dressed in black pants and white collar buttoned up shirt. He didn't get up right away. Sprawled on the cement, face twisted, making these tight little animal sounds in the back of his throat. Thorne noticed the elegant but empty gun holster strapped across his shoulders, the indentation of its most crucial element missing.
The other hostage, the older woman landed hard, rolling onto a shoulder and spitting out a mouthful of city grit. She wore a lab coat that suggested she was either some kind of doctor or scientist with an ID card dangling from her modest chest covered by an office shirt and midi pencil skirt.
She clutched her elbow and gazing at Vector as she pulled herself up with an expression of gratitude despite the rough landing.
"Oh my god, thank you—" she started, but Vector cut her off, standing there chin up, chest out and without sparing her so much as a glance. He just raised a finger and pointed it past the stunned scientist and her security blanket, and said, "You two should hide. That dumpster. Go, now."
The blue-suited wonder boy didn't ask if the hostages, he'd just "rescued" were okay or saying any of the PR stuff Thorne had seen the heroes on TV do.
'Can't say I'm surprised. There aren't any cameras around. Or did he miss public relations classes or something. You supposed to pretend to care.'
While shaking his head. Thorne was knocking his legs with the side of his hand which he curled into fisted to revive the limb which had gone dead. 'And why are you thanking him, it's beyond obvious that that punch should have taken you with it. If anything, you should be thanking Rudy.'
He didn't fail to notice that the hero didn't tell the hostages to run. He specifically said they should hide. It was as if for some reason running wasn't an option for them. Paranoia bottled up within Thorne as his mind searched for a logical reason why he and by extension they shouldn't just bolt and leave him to deal with the situation that, all indication, he had well in hand.
A shout snapped Thorne out of his spiral. The scientist staggered to her knees winded but fire-eyed, was barking at the security guy still on the ground manfully trying to fight through whatever pain he was in. "Hey, get the bag, we can't leave it there!" She jabbed her chin at the large black duffle near where the Brute was standing earlier.
A black duffle bag, sat about three feet from where the man was. He started an awkward crawl, then got his knees under him and lurched to his feet. It was almost humorous, watching this grown man scramble like a preschooler, but Thorne kept his laughter clamped down tight behind his molars.
'Empathy Thorne, Empathy. 'Thorne chanted internally as the man reached the bag attempted comically to hoist it over his shoulder that was clearly in no condition to carry the load.
Vector angled his golden visor in the bag's direction for a split second, But the speedster's attention was already drifting. His gaze drawn toward the caved in wall where Rudy and the Brute had vanished. He began to move toward it, entering the in its shadowy interior
The lady pushed herself upright and limped toward the shelter Vector had so graciously designated. Beckoned the man with the bag to follow.
Seeing them approaching Thorne wanted to tell them to stop and find their own hiding spot.' That bastard why is he sending them here' he shot a hateful glance at Vector who he could swear was chuckling.
Both of them had not yet placed their attention on the dumpster fully the man with duffle bag had it slump over his shoulder at an awkward angle and was bending his back to carry it. This left his face pointed downwards as he used his back muscles as a lever.
The lady has her gaze on him watching to make sure he didn't fall over. Though given how her hand hovered over the duffle bag, Thorne suspected that she was more interested in making sure that if he fell the bag wouldn't fall with him.
'I pray that such consideration never visits me.' Thorne spat.
As they came before the front of the dumpster and started rounding it. The man still being led by the lady who after the first look to see where the hero had pointed, had never actually looked back at the location of the bin again. Finally looking away from the duffle bag she turned her head in Thornes direction.
She made a small yelp. Either in alarm or surprise. Her hand darted to her chest, palm flat over the badge squeezing it for protection as Thorne was a demon and her a priest.
"Who the hell—" Her gaze bore into him. Her brows lowered, like she was gearing up to denounce him for some unknown public infraction.
Perhaps realizing he had no horns or tail, she swiftly recovered with a deep intake of breath.
"Oh. What are you doing back here." Her eyes darted from Thorne up to her companion, then to the duffle bag, then back to Thorne again. Assessing. Judging. He caught a glimpse of her ID badge.
The sharp stylized G of the Genesis Labs logo stood out to him. Below it was a picture of her. Her long brown hair tied into a bun as opposed to the wild state it was in now and on her face was rectangular, black-rimmed glasses gave her a rather strict look. Her nametag read Sara Ramirez, Researcher.
He watched the way her mouth pulled taut as she surveyed the decoration of bullet holes in and around the dumpster.
The security guy didn't even react to his new surroundings. He barely registered Thorne standing before him. His face was washed with so much pain or adrenaline that a whole SWAT team could be hiding back here, and it wouldn't ruffle him.
He plopped down rubbing his shoulder with his hand, dropping the duffle bag to his side. It fell gracelessly a dull clang its silent protest. He didn't offer a glance to either Thorne or Sara. He just leaned up against the dumpster, knuckles white, sucking air like he was preparing for submersion.
"Hey, be careful with that it's my life's work! "Sara scolded. Though her words fell on deaf ears.
Crouching beside him, she touches the bag and motions to open the zipper her expression shifting from irritation to caution. She unzips it. Standing over her shoulder Thorne was able to see what is in the bag. He notices various metal and glass canisters with a strange glowing liquid in side in. The closest thing he could compare it to be a type of lava lamp. But he seriously doubted those two from earlier were out stealing classic home decor.
"What the hell are those?" Thorne was curious and given that the trio was for some reason stuffed together while the hero was off saving the day. he figured he might as well ask a harmless question.
It was not appreciated if the look of absolute annoyance on Sara's face was any indication. She glared at him "None of your concern." It was final and meant to shut down any further inquiries, but Thorne ignored it.
"Why are you researching lava lamps?" Thorne raised and eyebrow, gazing at the contents of the duffle bag.
"These are not," she cut herself off. Then sighed." Why are you even here?" Sara eyed Thorne with a mix of suspicion and impatience.
"I heard the hero tell you to hide. Why did he send you guys here instead of telling you to get to safety. Are there more of them nearby?"
Hearing Thorne question Sara burst out laughing her fear and anxiety from early nowhere to be seen. Even the young guard who was ignoring them up until now raised a questioning eyebrow at him, his eyes wide as if he was staring at a lunatic.
Sara's laughter cut through the air. "No, to all your questions. No." Sara's eyes lingered on him with clinical detachment, like a bug caught under a microscope, but she was already more interested in the glowing vials than in anything he might contribute.
Thorne's face turned beet red. He tugged his collar away from his suddenly too-warm skin and stared at a spot on the ground, counting the cracks in the pavement.
"Is, is that so." His voice came out higher than intended. "Well then, I guess I'll be going now." His gaze fixed on the bullet ridden spot Vector had once stood in.
Thorne sidestepped Sara, who now had the bag cradled like a young child.
He had barely three awkward steps before the wall that lead to his preferred exit detonated inward in a sheet of brick, rebar and powdered concrete. A human shaped missile punched through the hole and skidded across the alley at breakneck speed.
It was Vector. The golden visor shining in the light of the alley. His arms windmilled as he tumbled, the pads on his suit sparking as the rubbed on the concrete.
The sound as sharp and intimate as a gunshot in a closet. He yelped, more in irritation than fear as him route rocked by the explosion.
'Why on earth am I cursed to be stuck in the goddamned alley' Thorne clenched his fist and he slowly retreated backwards.
As with the dust of the exploded wall the two villains once again reemerged.