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“Friar, I’m not sure I can decipher this in time.” Waldo huffed, her voice starting to seep with panic.
Friar evaded a sharp uppercut punch. And barely so. “Try.” She nailed an uppercut herself on the security officer, then kicked him in the stomach. “Sorry.” She stood over the knocked-up officer’s side. “God, I hate violence.” She dusted her large hands.
“Then why are you so good at enabling it?” Waldo typed in a few commands, the damn gum she popped in right before going in still in her mouth, being chewn.
“I didn’t bring you along so you could talk back at me, child.” She crossed her arms over her broad chest.
“It’s not like you’re old enough to be my parent.” She stated, perhaps with the worst posture she’s ever had.
“Decipher the thingy, child.” A horde of five more officers arrived at the door, beknownst to the ruckus Friar had been causing.
“It’s called a –never mind.” Waldo turned her attention to the screen. “This is bad. It’ll take roughly ten minutes for data to transfer.”
“Can’t we just… bring that computer with us?” Friar didn’t give the first officer a chance to register what was going on, and knocked them out with a calculated punch.
“No. FDJ computers delete everything if their connection to the inner-web is lost.”
“What the hell is an inner web?” Friar murmured to herself, releasing another security officer’s unconscious body out of a headlock.
“It’s like, internet. But only for FDJ computers.”
“Oh. Okay.” An officer broke a wooden chair on Friar’s back while her focus was disturbed. “Augh! Son of a –” she turned back to meet the officer’s eyes, they were bewildered.
“How… that’s gotta do more damage! Why are you still on your feet?” The officer yelled, frustrated.
“Because I’m… an ex WWE fighter?” Officer squinted his eyes. “Never mind.” She slapped his cheek gently, two times, before slapping him right into oblivion of unconsciousness.
“God. You don’t have to make shit up. Just don’t answer them. Besides, WWE isn’t even a thing anymore. It was all staged anyways.” Waldo retorted. Her green bangs started falling over her eyes. She sure hoped that they could afford to wait a while longer.
“That’s why I said ‘ex-WWE2?” Friar argued her point, the fact that Waldo didn’t care enough to deem her with a response larger than a slight huff going straight over Friar’s head.
“They have a main computer that is outside the order. It is impossible to reach it though.” Waldo casually mentioned.
“We don’t have ten minutes! We have to –”
“It’ll take us more than ten minutes to find it, trust me.”
Another officer is coming at her, a taser in their hand. “Okay. I will –” she grabbed their arm, guided it to her side to another officer, tased her –“not be enough to handle –” then heel-kicked the taser’s owner. “all this. In a short while.” She was out of breath. She cannot remember the last time she’d been this out of breath. It was definitely before she got into this… well, job, if you could call it that. The industry was tough. It was tougher for you if you changed professions in the same industry, that was something which Friar had done before.
She, for sure, thought that the officers would go on incessantly. It was not long before their unconscious bodies culminated the office’s floor. Friar wouldn’t really call it culminate, per se, there were eight of them. She huffed loudly –she really had gone out of shape. “Man, that sure was a piece of cake.” She said, almost as if to scold herself.
Waldo snorted, “you haven’t been on field for a long while, F. Go easier on yourself.”
“Yeah, because the new wing-freak will definitely go easy on me,” she murmured, but it was loud enough for Waldo to hear. “Is it done yet?”
“Two minutes and thirty-two seconds.” Beads of sweat were forming on Waldo’s forehead, a few rolling down their way to her messy eyebrows. She may have been speaking so casually and chill in front of Friar, but deep down she was freaking out a little bit. She wanted to impress her. This was her first field mission –she was so used to being behind a screen, away from any fight scenes. She was glad they’d manage to find a working computer in an unlocked room during most personnel’s lunchbreak. They planned it all through. And it all went according to plan.
Except for one thing, or person.
“Ah, shit.” Friar’s interjection was devoid of any emotion other than weariness. Waldo’s head shot towards the door. Ah shit, indeed. Waldo thought to herself right before she started to fully register what was going on.
And Friar? She was rightfully startled. It was that freak she had been talking about, thinking about, dreading to meet. He had been onto them for a couple of times actually. He almost caught them once, it was lucky that their fake papers were prepped and ready. Alas, no proof means no bread crumbs for the bird to catch. Friar then felt disdain against her own thoughts. First off, that suit ought to be modeled after a mammal-avian, not a bird. Secondly, they were caught red handed by FDJ’s greatest soldier, ultimate pawn –and that’s the thing she thinks about? How they’d managed to evade him before? None of that would be of any help in their situation.
“So you two really are the security breach in our systems.” Right corner of his mouth curved upwards, only slightly. Friar is suddenly became very aware of the situation they were in. This was not the plan, she thought to herself.
She steeled herself, raised her hands -they’d stopped shaking, but who knows what the future will bring? Waldo had mentioned it was a little more than two minutes. Two minutes, and they could bolt out of here with the needed information. She just had to stall. Distract him. That shouldn’t be so hard, right? “You got us, Wings.” She shrugged. Their accomplice in this mission was visible to them via peripheral eyesight, though she didn’t need to see her to feel that she’s trembling in fear. It’s a natural response –she was fairly new. This was an intense situation to be in for one’s first assignment. Friar softly exhaled. She could stall. She could ease Waldo into it too, whilst stalling. “What will our punishment be?” She asked, hands still in the air.
“I shall take you to –” Friar cut him off. She had only asked the question to do so, to be precise.
“Marshall Jung, right? Oh, no, I think she retired last winter. Who took her place?” She made a show of itching her chin. “Is it Claude?” His astonishment showed Friar that she was in fact, right. She showed disgust in her expression. “He’s really not qualified for that job.” She leaned forward. “Who’d he screw to get the job?” She popped her lips.
“That’s Marshall Claude to you.” He corrected her. “I… don’t think he slept with anyone for his position.” He replied, sheepishly. This was going to be easier than Friar originally thought. The boy was too proper, too earnest. No wonder he gave his everything to be what he is today.
“Was it Lieutenant General Hopper?” She tilted her head.
“I –” Wings’ face slightly flushed. The shadow of light dawning on someone oblivious pricked both his eyes. “No. He most certainly did not.” He coughed.
“You deny it. But you totally see that happening, right?” She grinned. “Word of advice. He slept with Jung to become a full captain a few years back.”
“Marshall is not a rank that is gained by… experience. It cannot be granted just for that.”
“Experience, huh?” She itched her temple. “So you do admit that there’s more to it.” Friar nonchalantly stated. “I am surprised a proper soldier like yourself hasn’t done anything to stop him. Surely this is banned by the regulation, yes?”
“Stop with this nonsense. What would you know of our regulations? Besides, how do you even know his name?” His brows knitted. “You’ve got more men in, right?” Wings got a hold of Friar’s shirt’s collar. Friar momentarily eyed the computer’s screen –two minutes and four seconds. Whatever time this computer was running on, it sure seemed to be different than their timeline’s actual understanding of time. There was no way that conversation took less than five minutes.
She had to play it cool, though. Friar’s mouth turned into a crooked smile. It was at that moment, Wings knew, that he had fucked up. “Well,” She clicked her tongue. “Better in than out, am I right, Waldo?”
“No…” His shoulders slouched, as he let his grip on her big shirt loosen.
Waldo, encouraged by her senior’s actions, “I don’t know, F. I prefer men out.” She grinned –ah, there we go! Friar thought. She’d eased Waldo into it. She seemed calmer and more collected, which was always good when you were in a situation this rigged against you. She focused on her breathing, trying to maintain it in a regular level. She wouldn’t know if she started hyperventilating, her body allowed her to hyperventilate.
Yet, it beat Friar that this boy still hadn’t cuffed them. “I meant –” His hands traveled to his belt, along with Friar’s eyes –ah, that’s why. He’d forgotten them at the locker room. He’d forget that he had forgotten his cuffs. How convenient for them.
“I hear ya.” Friar shrugged. “I prefer both in –men and –”
“No one cares about -”
She took a shallow breath, “I do resent that you called our people inside men. Us two gals with nothing better to do on a Saturday evening, we managed to come all this way into one of your most secure facilities.” She huffed.
“I didn’t mean it like that!” His forehead looked like a bubble wrap. Fuck this, stop joking around!” He activated his wings, his way of saying I don’t care if I don’t have my regulation cuffs, I will capture you both. Metallic symphony of robotic pieces created a certain thud that maintained the ladies’ silence for a while. Friar observed them for a while, humming.
Finally, Friar let out a sigh. “I wasn’t. I’m serious.”
“You knew what I meant. Stop twisting it.” He curled his man-made wings to kneel and grab two pairs of cuffs from deceased (just kidding. They shouldn’t be dead. Not yet anyways. Unless?) security officers.
“Yeah, okay. Fair.” Friar glanced to the screen again. One minute. It appeared the time flow of data transfer was blockaded by something. No harm, no worries. She could get through this. She had been through so much worse. Her eyes met with Waldo’s while Wings was down –a silent approval of a nod came from her. She would let her know when the transfer completed. It should take a while more if they got away from the main, but it should still keep on going.
Wings rose, and Friar remained; studying his metallic wings as he cuffed them and led them to another place –possibly a holding cell. The light, dark grey base of the prosthetics seemed to be laced with a bright yellow substance –a metal other than the lightest metal produce known to human. Friar squinted; it seemed to be gold. But it made no sense –gold is a heavy metal. It would defeat the whole purpose of using a light grey aluminum-magnesium alloy as the base. Wing boy here might as well try and fly with two large pots by shaking them with his hands.
Yet, Friar did see him aviate, even if he barely lifted off of the ground. The shape of a solitary wing suggest that more than aerodynamics, it relied on flexibility.
“Now we’re going to this… Claude’s room?” Waldo asked, nervous that Friar had been quiet for too long. Data transfer had been completed, but Friar had been so taken aback with the soldier’s wings that no effort of her trying to signal Friar had been enough. She managed to grab the small flash-drive and stuff it under her tongue. She was no germaphobe, but stuffing a flash-drive that had been touched by countless others did leave a weird taste in her mouth.
“Marshall Claude.” Wings corrected her.
“Yeah, okay. But we’re going there, right?” Friar tried to get a confirmation, to some avail.
“Yes.” Wings didn’t see any benefit in intentionally hiding this fact from them. They had little to no means of escaping. Taking them to the holding cell would be pointless –she had decimated eight to nine officers under fifteen minutes. A cell would be below mediocre in regards of holding Friar. Actually he was mildly surprised her resistance was minimal at best. She preferred to pick her battles, apparently. And she picked them wisely –there was no way in hell she’d be a match for –
“Hey.” Friar called for his attention, before pulling the whole group to a stop. Waldo bumped into her back, before receding. “Kid. Are your wings modeled after bats?”
Huh? Why did she stop? thought Waldo, infuriated. Friar seemed to be in a zone of her own, and Waldo wasn’t allowed in.
“Yes. They are.” Wings was quick to judge her. There would be more than the bare minimum of resistance, would there not?
“So, maneuver over speed?” She interjected. Waldo coughed.
“I am both fast and have high maneuverability.” He turned to Friar, facing her. “Can we go on now?”
Friar seemed not to be registering his inputs other than his answers. She squinted again, bending to see his back better. “Ah! The golden plate isn’t a plate.” She had noticed the shape. “It’s your skeleton.”
“Excuse me?”
“Not part of your real skeleton, of course,” she toured around the soldier, her hands bound in front of her. “Of course. Your latissimus dorsi muscle seems to have been intervened. That’s the hardened fascia.” She put her hands on Y’s back, palpating the muscle through the tight tank top he had on.
“Hey!” He jerked away from this random woman’s contact. “If this is your way of resisting, then I have no choice.” He pulled the electric-baton from his belt, and activated it. He didn’t like using it, at all. However, using it was the best course of action. He didn’t want to unleash unnecessary violence upon them. Am I really that worse than an electric baton, though? It would hurt just as much.
“Okay. This’ll have to be a shorter reunion, then.” Friar started unbuttoning her large shirt.
“What are you –” before he could react fully, she took the top off and threw it at Waldo. She was wearing the same skintight one-piece that he was, except hers was bared around the sides of her last three ribs. “What?” He whispered to herself.
“Your code name is Dragonwings, am I correct? Short for DW.” She asked, whilst putting her long hair into a ponytail. She didn’t wait for his answer. “Pretty weird code name for a bat-based soldier, don’t you think?”
His frowns burrowed. “I picked it.”
“Why Dragonwings, DW?”
“Because when I was a cadet, I admired a superior soldier called Dragonfly. They were a lieutenant at the time, I think. They had risen through the ranks and the power, nothing could stop them.” He shook his head. “Why am I telling you this?”
“You probably need someone to validate your thoughts. That sucks about your generation to be honest.” She pointed right towards Waldo. “She’s like that too.”
“Friar, you don’t get to diff me when you’ve been ignoring all my fignals fince we saw the restroom!”
“You see, I had to wait.” She straightened her back and warmed her arms up. “Kid,” she turned to Dragonwings again. “Your response was the answer I was expecting. Sorry, I’m going to use this as the element of surprise, so that we can get away. No offense but you’re kind of a pain in our asses.”
“Pain in our affes!” Waldo supported her, waving the sweatshirt around. It was hard to speak with a flash drive under your tongue.
“Can you just… put on your shirt and let’s go. I have a patrol starting in twenty minutes.” Wings didn’t know why he put up with their shit. Perhaps it was because he was never prone to using that electric baton of his. He couldn’t use his fists, and god forbid he took a blow to his wings. It was not only technological adaptations he’d received –he was enhanced in a biological sense, as well. Scientists still argued whether it was safe enough for a person to go through biological enhancements or not, but they’d been around for a while.
“No.” Friar refused.
“I’ll have to use force.” His voice made it apparent that he, in fact, did not want to use force. It was wrong. He would more than gladly use force. The baton was just not up to his tastes.
“I guess you’ll have to. Give me a moment to brace myself, though.” Friar took a large breath, two large breaths, three large breaths…
“You’re going to faint.” He pointed out. That would suit him. Then all he had to do would be drag her and her funky tech friend to the Marshall’s office.
“Give her a moment. She’s fueling up.” The green haired teen explained, a smug expression spawled across her face and especially her eyebrows.
“Her lungs?” That made no sense whatsoever.
“No,” Friar’s response came as quiet as a whisper, as an exhale. He drew the final breath in, and as an amount of the breath found its way somewhere other than Friar’s lungs, long and thin double wings inflated. The sizzle of metallic friction grated the ears of them all.
“What… you’re a soldier?” Dragonwings’ grip on the baton tightened. “I can understand her being a rebel -” he nodded at Waldo, somehow derogatorily, “But you? How dare you disobey the system? They’ve done everything for you.” He gritted his teeth.
“Look at them. Look at my wings.” She proposed. “Don’t they seem familiar?” Wings chose to mindlessly attack her with the baton instead, he had taken enough of this traitor’s bullshit. Swiftly, she evaded the attack. “Not even going to take one peak?” A taste of the sarcasm-filled defeat was in her voice. He –perhaps unconsciously, perhaps out of genuine curiosity, studied her prosthetics. Substance inflated wings, originating from the lower ribs and back. Thin membrane of organic material –a few veins had formed on the wing, flow of blood aiding the main source of the stability of these model of wings: the flow of air.
The model was considered highly risky in the past, prone to explosions, after the only owner of that brand new model, Dragonfly, had gone through a heinous accident that took their life in a brutal manner.
“You... no way.” His mouth (and the electric baton he so helplessly tried to hold onto) dropped.
“That’s right. I am Dragonfly.” She declared, before grabbing Waldo and smashing the nearest window, accompanied by a cry of victory.