The Plan Goes Wrong

[Bishop "Outlier" Cortez]

The plan was simple.
Well…it was meant to be simple. It wasn’t something I would usually do, although these circumstances weren’t the usual either. Typically, I sat back in a hidey hole overlooking the site, laptop propped on my knees, passing information through my comm. Link. That was how I preferred it, how I worked. But today…well, today was different.
I hit the ground running, my feet stinging, my backpack slamming into me. I looked over at Mickey. He was grinning at me, shaking his head.
“Not as easy as it looks, huh?”
I rolled my eyes, running after him towards a metal fence.
“Without me man,” I puffed, climbing over the fence after he lithely vaulted over it.
“Without me you couldn’t do this,” I finished, coming to stand next to him. We said nothing then, instead looking up at our goal – the Verrill Trade Building. He started walking again.
“Couldn’t do what?” He looked at me, his face smooth, before a laugh crept over him.
“Nah, nah…you know we need you Outlier…heck, without you I wouldn’t know what I’m stealing.”
I nodded.
“Communications and Geographic Tracker, version 5.9 – that’s what we’re here for,” I recited dutifully. My eyes traced the length of the large building that sent the others reeling towards the ground; it quite literally dwarfed all that surrounded it. Overwhelming as it was, one had to expect it – the Verrill Trade Building was the high-tech trade hub of the City, the wonderful epicenter of most technology and information that circulated here. I followed Mickey slowly, hitching my backpack further up along my back.
“This program will revolutionize the way the Blues…and the way we work…there has never been anything more precise than this…” I was murmuring, my eyes glued to the building. Mickey’s hulking form moved along swiftly, his ears straining to hear my words.
“So tell me again,” he said after a few minutes as he ducked around a corner, “why you’re here with me?”
I frowned, following him closely. I ran over the plan in my mind.
“This program…is difficult to extract from its host…it’s integrated into the system…I’ll have to remove a few parts to get it…”
Mickey was nodding, pulling out a keycard. We had rounded our way around a flanking building and were heading towards a maintenance entrance.
“So we need you to do that, yeah?”
I nodded, watching as he slotted the keycard into the door’s security scanner. The red light above the door handle flashed green. He yanked the door open, a cool gush of air washing over us. I followed him inside. He slipped the keycard back into his pocket.
“Wonderful work you do Outlier,” he commented, his blue eyes sparkling. He had moved along the length of the corridor, his hands stuffed deeply in his pockets. Funny thing about these guys was how cool they always were…nothing seemed to ruffle their feathers.
We reached a flight of stairs spiraling downwards; I followed Mickey, taking in the darkness, letting my eyes adjust.
It had been a long time since I was out in the field. A lot of my work had taken place in a room, working away at a computer. But the Boss wanted more now…he wanted to expand, take up new avenues of work, and now he needed my help. He had gradually taken more notice of me as the months flew past. I didn’t know what this would all lead to. All I knew was that I wanted to do more, needed to do more. I had lost focus.
Mickey leapt down the final step, the sound of his feet slamming into the concrete echoing in the large basement. We went over to the maintenance shaft; he began working away at it, pulling out the screws that held it closed. I stood aside, my eyes scanning the large, underground tunnel. I knew that it was our only access into the Trade Building. The place was deserted; it was hard to get into, but a tight knot in my stomach told me that there was always the chance that this plan would go badly. I had worked a long time to get the keycards ready, to memorize the blueprint. I took in a deep breath, steadying myself. Mickey looked unperturbed. He pulled out the final screw, placing the drill carefully back into his bag. He pulled open the large metal door, revealing a small entrance.
“After you.”
I ducked my head and stepped inside, feeling the temperature drop. He followed silently and let me lead the way. I traced the path in my mind, often shutting my eyes as I followed the map.
“Take a left here,” I murmured, turning. “50 meters and then a right.”
We moved silently down a long corridor. Mickey let his fingers trace the cold concrete walls.
“You sure this is the right way, Bishop?”
He used my real name. My head jerked back slightly. We had reached a dead end.
“It is,” I murmured, moving my flashlight onto a steel covering. “Through there.”
I moved aside as Mickey started working again, pulling the cover away. I threw my backpack to the ground, unzipped it and took out my disguise. I quickly slipped on a crisp white shirt, changed my shoes into a pair of formal, business shoes. Finally the door budged; Mickey held it, his eyes flicking over to me.
“You look sharp,” he said. I rubbed my head, making sure I had no dirt stains. I nodded and he reciprocated, yanking the door aside. I spied light coming through; we were in a narrow, basement hallway.
“Alright…I’ll wait here for you. Get your comm. Link ready…”
I nodded, cramming it into my ear.
“You know if this shit goes wrong…you know what to do.”
I nodded, swallowing. I pulled out a semi-automatic and tucked it into the back of my pants. I grabbed a small suitcase from inside the backpack and stepped out of the door into the hallway.
“I’ll see you soon,” I said simply, turning on my heel and walking into the hallway.

[Bishop "Outlier" Cortez]

I glanced up and down it, mentally scanned the map and then turned to my left. A red door confronted me. I took out a keycard from the suit pant’s pocket. It glimmered in the dim light. I was staring at that which I had spent almost a month preparing. I slipped it through the security scanner. It beeped, the sound bright, simple, easy…and suddenly, I was in.
I pushed the door open, went into the hallway and followed it until I reached the elevator. I took it up to the 26th floor, where most trial technology was installed and tested. The elevator door opened and I immediately caught the eyes of Damon, our undercover man. He nodded ever so slightly, his eyes watching me knowingly. I turned to my right, following the clean hallway to the trial labs. For today, I was posing as an IT specialist from the company that produced the program. Hopefully no one asked me to walk them through it.
“TRIAL LAB 01” – the sign loomed above me. I kept walking, my black shoes clicking on the white tiles. Two women, previously engaged in heated conversation, watched me as I passed. I bent my head to the side, gripping the suitcase tighter. I had to get to the 5th Lab. Damon had been tracking the program since it arrived at the Building.
“TRIAL LAB 04” – I walked quicker now, my head bent, beads of sweat building up on my forehead. The suit was tight, uncomfortable and every time I passed someone, I doubted just how professional I looked. Finally I saw it, the giant 05 in red paint. I slowed my gait, scanning the lab quickly. It was empty, as Damon had predicted. I quickly glanced at my watch. The timing was almost perfect.
I scanned the keycard, watching as the lab doors slid open smoothly. I went in, waiting until they locked again. I made sure to keep my head turned away from the security camera. I pulled out a small ski mask from my pocket, slipping it over my face. I turned back to the camera, heading over to it quickly and covering the lens. Ripping off the mask, I went to the main computer. The screen was littered with in-progress scans, small boxes monitoring the system’s performance. I breathed out, placing the suitcase on the table. Now was when I needed to relax most.
I unbuckled the suitcase, taking out a small laptop, about the size of my hand. I had prepared the program that would initiate the extracting process. I plugged the small laptop into the main computer, waiting for it to load up. I tapped my fingers impatiently, my eyes darting anxiously around the lab. A large window to the left revealed the white, gleaming City with its razor sharp edges and sky rise buildings. I watched it momentarily until the laptop beeped, signaling the beginning of the process. I took a deep breath, removing some more equipment from the suitcase. I had to manually take a few pieces attached to the system that were needed to make the program run. I began working, my ears straining to hear anything over the comm. Link. A few minutes passed, the laptop signaling that it was nearing 35 percent progress. I took another deep breath in, trying desperately to keep myself under control. My eyes darted back to the lab door every time I thought I saw someone approaching. I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the sweat. I looked back at the laptop. 55 percent. The comm. Link crackled. My eyes widened, my hand instinctively going to my ear. Silence. I looked back at the laptop. 80 percent, and lagging. I quickly undid another wire, searching for my screwdriver. The comm. Link crackled more now, white noise hissing in my ear.
“Mickey,” I said softly. Silence. Suddenly the white noise exploded in my ear. I hissed, ripping the piece out of my ear. I heard Damon’s voice.
“Outlier…Outlier you there?”
I stuffed it back into my ear.
“Yeah, Damon. What’s happening?”
Damon’s voice was rushed, panicked.
“You gotta go, now. Blues headed your way.”
I jumped up.
“What! Where?”
“Someone tipped them off man and they’ve picked up on your computer’s signal. You have to go now. They’re on the elevators, nearing the 15th floor now.”
“Shit”
I stuffed the equipment back into the bag, ripping the final wire and shoving the pieces into the suitcase. The laptop was at 95 percent. I rubbed my head, tapped my foot, loosened my collar.
“Outlier…you gotta go now. 22nd floor.”
I started pacing around the table, rubbing my chin furiously.
“Come on, come on.”
“Outlier…”
The laptop beeped. I tore the cable out of the computer, jamming it into the suitcase. I spun on my heel and rushed out of the lab, my head bent, my feet slapping roughly into the corridor.
“24th floor.”
Damon’s voice was quiet, nervous.
The hallway was empty so I started jogging. It wasn’t long until the elevator.
“25th floor.”
The elevator came up ahead of me; the main foyer was buzzing with people.
I approached the elevator and joined the small crowd waiting outside of it.
“They’re here.”
Both elevators opened at the same time. I rushed into the elevator with the other people, hiding my head amidst the crowd. As the doors closed, I spied a flurry of blue rushing into the hall, shouts reverberating around the foyer.
“What’s that all about?” a woman next to me asked. I shrunk further into the back, trying to look as calm as possible.
I was the only one left in the elevator as it took me down to the basement floor. I turned my face away from the security camera as much as possible.
“Damon,” I whispered. Silence on the other end. I wondered if the Blues had run into Mickey.
“Damon,” I repeated. The link crackled.
“Bad news. They got the building surrounded.”
The elevator doors slid open and I sped out.
“No problem Damon, got Mickey at the maintenance shaft. Should be able to get out fine.”
Damon didn’t reply.
I went back through the red door and into the narrow, dimly lit corridor. I expected to see Mickey hanging out of the maintenance shaft, waiting for me with eager eyes. Instead, I was confronted with a closed door. The maintenance shaft was drilled shut.
“Fuck!”
“You got set up bro.” Damon’s flat voice rung in my ears.
“Damn it! What the fuck am I gonna do now!”
I flung myself around the hallway, looking for another way out. A small window on the other end led outside, but it was barred shut, and I knew it would be swarming with Blues. I rubbed my eyes, heading towards it, starting to run now. Time was running out. I took out a miniature drill from my suitcase, hoping it would be strong enough for the screws around the window. I worked quickly, often missing the screw head, cursing myself and starting again. Climbing through the window was stupid, the very reason we didn’t go in like this. Going through the main door would be too obvious, and security would ask questions. The maintenance shaft was the best, easiest and most private way. But now…well…I wanted to stop working and consider why Mickey had set me up, but I banished the thoughts from my mind. All they did was weigh me down.
The final screw came out and the bars came crashing towards me. I lifted my arm up to protect my head and they slammed me. I winced in pain, grabbing the bars and placing it against the wall, trying to ignore the screaming pain that raged through my forearm. I stopped a moment, wrapping the suitcase straps around my torso; I had to be ready to run. I lifted up the window, the afternoon light making me squint a little. I spotted three cop cars parked out front. I hopped up, slipping through the window into a wide, side alleyway. I started to walk away quickly. I didn’t think anyone had seen me until a loud shout rung out.
“Suspect spotted!”
I started running then, adrenaline coursing through my veins at rapid speeds. I didn’t know where I was running and I hadn’t adequately memorized the streetscape around the building. I cursed under my breath, taking a sharp right and hoping, praying it led me to freedom. Instead, a large wall loomed ahead of me.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I repeated, still running as though I expected the wall to crumble away from me. I reached the wall, slamming my hands against it. I turned away then, reaching for the semi-automatic. At least Mickey was honest about one thing – I knew what to do.
Suddenly a voice tore through my thoughts.
“Over here!”
I looked up for the source but spotted nothing but a metal ladder flung down the side of the wall. I frowned, hesitating for a split second before I grabbed the ladder and started climbing. I pulled the ladder back up with me and then got up, searching for my secret helper. I was alone. I started walking along the rooftops, picking my way back to the house, my head ducked in the case of choppers. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I climbed onto a small ledge and leapt off onto the other side, landing in an adjacent alley. I knew I could take the East Subway. An abrupt noise made me turn and I spotted a slither of movement before someone, or something, disappeared behind a wall.
“Whose there?” I called. There was no reply. I turned on my heel then and started running. The questions were starting to bear down on me again.

<OOC: sorry for such a long post everyone...i get carried away -_->

[Artemis "Spirit" Jacobs]

"Whose there?" the hacker demanded; there was the faintest note of strain in his voice. Pressed against a sheltering wall, Spirit said nothing, remaining calmly silent as her storm-grey eyes traced the Blues beneath her ledge, her trained ears listening for the hacker. He hesitated a moment, and then turned on his heel, quick footsteps moving away. Spirit gave him a few seconds before following.

It had come to her attention from one of her runners that a hacker was attempting access to the Trade Building; finding this both bold and suspicious, Spirit took the intelligence and decided to investigate. Her sentry pointed her in the direction of the pair, and she staked out its exit, waiting perhaps fifteen minutes before she saw a man fleeing the scene, a cellphone pressed to his ear. Moments later, the Blues arrived, and Spirit had the wise inkling something was very, very wrong. Despite the bleak outlook, however, Spirit grimly waited it out, wanting to see the hacker brought out in handcuffs herself.

To her surprise, however, he turned out to be a bit more resourceful than she had anticipated. Alerted by the screaming of metal-on-metal, Spirit had scurried up to get a bird's eye view of the conned hacker emerging from a back window, clutching a black suitcase. Impressed, but remaining silent, the young woman trailed him to a dead end, where she had, ever so slightly, intevened.

There were a few reasons that she now kept her distance, doing her best to remain silent and unnoticed as she swiftly tracked him. First, he was armed- he had drawn a weapon back in the alleyway and, whether it had been intended for attack or self-use, Spirit had enough sense to use caution. Secondly, she was trying to distinguish who he was- certainly, he wasn't a Red. She was at a desperate lack of hackers, seeing as her last one had been crippled and was now bound in a series of legal issues following a Blues raid on his apartment. But as he was wearing a suit, it was impossible to determine if he was a Green or, as she was beginning to hope, merely a seeker.

Trailing in his wake, Spirit sped suddenly as the Blues sirens pressed down on them. The hacker, while making a valiant effort at escape, had aimed down toward the East Subway station. Had she been in his position, Spirit would have most likely done the same- but she was a tad bit wiser, now, and this was Reds territory.

Making a split-second decision, Spirit called to him. "This way!" she said, stopping in her tracks. To her left, the path wound off and disappeared; the Red's base was not far from here, and while she knew not to take this unknown hacker there, winding through the labyrinth of warehouses would hopefully throw the Blues off course.

(very well-done posts, by the by. Mine...aren't so great tonight. Apologies!)

[Bishop "Outlier" Cortez]

I stumbled along, gripping the suitcase straps tightly, my hands shaky. I had managed to climb down to street level and I was picking my way through the back alleys heading towards the East Subway. I didn’t know what I would find there and I cursed under my breath at the situation that left me virtually stranded. I didn’t know the city streets as well as I should’ve in this situation and it left me wondering why the Boss had sent me with only Mickey to finish the job.
My hands instinctively went to the comm. Link in my ear; it had been silent since I left the building.
“Damon,” I said quietly, leaning against a wall, the coolness of the brick seeping through my suit shirt. There was no reply. I let out a long breath, rubbing my forehead. I reached into the suit pants, retrieving a cell phone, I stared at it for a moment, considering whether I should call the Boss or not. Ignoring all reasoning, I dialed his number and waited. It was careless – the Boss didn’t like being contacted on an unprotected line, but I thought that this situation warranted the call.
Ring…ring…ring…
I stood there, hope slipping from me with each successive tone until I angrily hung up. I knew I was on my own. Luckily, I thought, looking down at the straps wrapped around my body – luckily I still had the program. That was what was most important. I hadn’t left empty handed.
I started moving again, slower this time, sticking close to the wall. The alley was silent, empty. Every second or so, I’d shoot a glance over my shoulder; I still couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. I didn’t know if it was the paranoia talking and my lookout for the Blues, but I could swear I once saw something move on the rooftop above.
Ahead of me the alleyway widened and it wouldn’t be long until I hit the subway. My knees buckled rapidly as the sound of Blues sirens wailed past, loud and oppressive. I hit the floor instinctively, waiting until the sound passed. It eased a little, but it was close this time, somewhere near to the Subway. Suddenly, the screech of tires tore through the silence, the sound of car doors slamming shut. I pressed myself against the wall, my hands deep in my pockets, my fingers tracing the metal edges of the phone. It suddenly clicked in my mind and I pulled out the phone. “Damn it…should’ve known…” I said to myself as I quickly removed the battery. I tossed the phone into the nearest garbage can, shoving the battery back into my pocket. The signal was easily traceable.
I took a step forward and considered running to the Subway, hopefully dodging the sight of Blues, and their bullets. I didn’t put it past them. Verrill Blues were trigger happy. Suddenly, a shout from above caught my attention.
“This way!”
It was distinct this time, a girl’s voice, light but steady and even. I turned, my eyes searching the rooftops frantically. I couldn’t spot her. My heart was racing, my mind more so. I looked back towards the end of the alley, considering my options. The Subway wasn’t far; I looked back to the other side, spotting a narrow passage, beyond which I had no clue what was. My mind was quickly flooded with questions. Do I trust the faceless helper and follow a path that was foreign to me, or do I take my shot at the subway?
Maybe she realized I was stalling, weighing it up in my mind, for a slip of movement made me look up again. I bit my lip, listening to the sirens, knowing the Blues would be here any second.
I started running, heading towards the narrow passage. It was dark and seemed to become narrower as I entered. I slowed down, trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness. I heard faint footsteps above me and I sped up, tripping over a tipped over trash can. I slammed into the ground and then jumped up immediately, my heart hammering away – even though I decided to come this way, it still didn’t sit with me too comfortably. I had no clue who this girl was or what she wanted. I kept walking, feeling my way along, ducking my head as I moved through a narrow entrance. I had no clue where I was going, and the path ahead of me seemed to wind away within a maze of tiny nooks, crooked alleys and run down corridors leading into ever more paths. What worried me most were the faint footsteps I’d hear now and then as I emerged into the fading light, knowing that she was still trailing me.
I stumbled into another dark entrance and inched along a hallway wall, not wanting to repeat the fall I had taken before. The suitcase had gradually become heavier as the trip progressed and I felt like I was lagging now. Ahead of me, a crumbling doorway led to a wide opening, and beyond it, an enormous drive snaking its way around dozens of warehouses. I emerged into the afternoon light, taking in the sight – most of the warehouses looked to be in use, mostly for storage, while others looked clearly neglected and rundown. The industrial site must’ve been enormous, for warehouses stretched along as far as the eye could see.
“What is this place?” I murmured, taking another step forward. I strained my ears, waiting for the footfalls; there were none. I swallowed, a faint panic rising in my stomach. Where had she led me?
I shuffled forward, feeling the straps dig into my torso. I started undoing them while my eyes stayed glued to the giant warehouse fronts. I looked around me, my eyes searching the rooftops expectantly. My expectation was fading. Was this a cruel joke or something worse?
The straps came loose and I grabbed the suitcase, hugging it to my chest. I suddenly felt dizzy, my throat parched, my heart beating unevenly. For some reason, I couldn’t hold myself up any more, and I knelt down, and then sat down, my head lolling against the entrance doorframe. The panic rose in me quickly, taking over my senses. I reached back, slowly taking out the semi-automatic and placing it on my lap. I put my head back and shut my eyes. Tiredness had descended on me overpoweringly fast. I felt my mind drifting away from me, and while reason screamed at me to get up, to keep moving, the pessimism in me knew when I had lost a fight. At least the Blues weren’t after me any more, I thought. I let my fingers rest on the semi-automatic…just in case. I wanted to laugh. No use for a gun when I’m fast asleep…

I had dozed for only a few minutes before her voice pulled me from my dreaming.
“Wake up,” she said.


(ooc: your post was really good. i like where this is going. also, sorry for the last bit where he falls asleep..seems like something id do in this situation haha)

[Artemis "Spirit" Jacobs]

(no worries, it works. I really like how you've made him very realistic; he a very carefully crafted character that has a visible weakness in the area that is not his expertise, running. Well done!)

Swiftly but with almost painful ease, Spirit approached the sleeping hacker, distastefully noting the gun across his lap. Had he not looped a finger around the trigger, the young woman would have attempted to lift it off of him. As it were, the scenario that resulted in her mind's eyes depicted her doing more harm than good, should she attempt now.

Taking a moment to determine the most awkward angle for him to aim and instinctively unload on her, Spirit positioned herself at his left shoulder.

"Wake up," she said; she moved her foot so that it rested on top of the gun, pinning it to the man's thigh. She waited until the hacker looked her way.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" she asked; it sounded like a pompous thing to ask, but Spirit needed this answer. If he did, he was one of two things- a rival agent, or a very well-informed seeker who knew his stuff. If he did not- and, truly did not, was not just lying- she would have an easier time with things.

[Bishop "Outlier" Cortez]

"Wake up."
I was startled awake, feeling pressure on my hand.
“What the!” I jerked into a sitting position and looked down, spotting a red kick pressing down on the semi-automatic. I glanced up at the figure framed against the fading afternoon light. She bent down, closer to my face now. My muscles tensed.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked. I struggled, trying to move the gun from underneath her foot. It didn’t budge. “Do you know who I am?” she repeated, more forceful now, her eyes narrowed in concentration. I stared at her, taking in her sober outfit, punctuated by bright splashes of red. I shook my head.
“I don’t...I don't know," I stammered, confused. I started wondering if this was some mistaken personal vendetta. The girl looked athletic, the expression in her eyes mature, and yet she was young. Still…no one ran that well…
“Are you a runner?” I asked her quietly. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. I had heard a little bit about them before. The Boss complained about runners – he didn’t like their independently set up networks that managed to evade his own. Maybe he was just greedy, but he rarely used their services, preferring the run-and-gun method. And then there were the news reports…Even with that, I couldn’t be sure. I had no clue what runners looked like or what they wore. The Boss might have complained about them, but I rarely saw any. To me, they were more like a myth.
The girl didn’t say anything, instead watching me intently. I started to feel nervous, even though my finger was curled around the trigger.
“Look if you are a runner, I’m a criminal. We’re sort of in the same boat here,” I told her, hoping she’d stop digging her foot into me. She didn’t shift, standing incredibly still. The sun had begun to fade behind the line of warehouses and a chill was setting in. I hugged the suitcase tighter. Her eyes moved slowly from my face down to the suitcase. My heart began beating faster.



(sorry it took me a while to put this up, but ive had heaps of work to do. its a bit short. awesome post by the way. nice work figuring out how to stop him shooting)

[Artemis "Spirit" Jacobs]

Spirit narrowed her eyes, searching his face for any tell-tale sign of lies. She kept her foot pressed down upon his weapon to a point where she was sure it had to be a bit painful; she was, however, acutely aware of how he attempted to squirm it out from underneath her.

"That's why I helped you get away," she said quietly, in response to his comment of being in a similar situation. Her eyes trailed to the suitcase he clutched at his side. "But something doesn't add up. You went into the Trade Building under the impression that some plan had been formulated- the man who turned on you, was he your only contact?"

Spirit hesitated, preparing her thoughts before voicing them. "Unload the weapon and hand me the clip," she said. This boy was strange; he seemed unfamiliar to Running, yet he was a skilled hacker to be able to almost seamlessly bypass the security of the Verrill Trade Building. She had the uncomfortable, squirming feeling that this mission was not of his own creation, and that there was a larger force at work here.

(Thanks! And don't worry about it, I'm quite busy as well. Whenever you get around to posting, you get around to posting :])

[Bishop "Outlier" Cortez]

I almost winced at her mention of Mickey. I felt a mixture of anger and humiliation rising in me. So much for a crew. I looked up at her, still silent.
“Unload the weapon and hand me the clip,” she said, her voice controlled. I clenched my teeth, looking back down at the gun. I quietly laughed, sarcastic and bitter. I looked up, nodding. She didn’t move for a moment, searching my eyes for any sign of deceit.
“Look,” I said, sighing, “I’m not going to shoot you. You really think I’ve got anything to defend right now?” I sighed again, looking into the distance as dusk settled comfortably amidst the warehouses. Suddenly the pressure on my hand eased. I didn’t move, not wanting to startle her. Slowly, I moved my hand and started unloading the clip. When I was done, I handed it to her resignedly. She took it, slipping it into her pants pocket. I rubbed my eyes tiredly but didn’t bother to move. She stared at me in what I thought was confusion.
“Tell me about how you got into the Trade Building,” she reiterated. I laughed again, shaking my head.
“You want to hear about that?” I scoffed, still shaking my head, feeling the pent up anger rising in me. “Yeah let’s talk about that,” I repeated, lifting myself up, my hand still wrapped tightly around the suitcase.
“He wasn’t my only contact… - Mickey, I mean,” I finished as her eyes widened a little, tracing me as I began to pace around her. “There was Damon, our man on the inside. We didn’t need many people for the job though. I mean, I spent a good two months preparing it, with the keycards, the blueprints. But on site, there wasn’t anything complicated about it.” I knew I was rambling, but I couldn’t help it. I was running over the entire situation aloud, trying to pick out the hiccups.
“You go in, pretend like you’re a company executive, no one asks you questions, you go into the lab, extract the program – I had prepared a program that would do a lot of that, and I had to take out the hardware I needed.” I started shaking my head again. “No need for more contacts.”
“And the man?” she asked quietly, her eyes narrowed on me.
“The man? Mickey?” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Sold me out, but I don’t know why. I don’t know,” I repeated, looking up at the sky in thought.
“Who set it up?” she asked. I stopped, thinking of the Boss. I didn’t know whether to mention him – what if she was an informant of some kind? I swallowed.
“My Boss set it up,” I answered simply.
“Your Boss? Who is he?”
I shook my head, waving my hand in front of me.
“Can’t tell you that. That’s confidential information, no fly zone.”
She stepped forward, almost menacingly, concentration flooding her face as she went over my words. I clenched my jaw again, waiting.

(hope this is going in a good direction! sorry for writing some dialogue on your part; i tried to minimise it as much as possible)

[Artemis "Spirit" Jacobs]

(I'll let it go right now, but in the future, please don't speak for other characters. It's fine to have shorter posts, it gives the other time for more interesting responses :])

Spirit took a step forward, her eyes narrowed as she glanced him over.

"Who are you?" she asked finally, "Runners aren't armed, Blues don't break into buildings, and none of Shorts's men would have any problem in letting me know who they work for." She absently popped a bullet out of the clip, bouncing it thoughtfully in her palm.

"What information were you looking for?" she tried again. She had so many questions to ask, all of which, were she in his shoes, she knew he'd avoid. "And what's in the suitcase?" Who are you working for? the girl's mind cried, exasperated; the knowledge of another, unknown gang caused her the greatest displeasure.

[Bishop "Outlier" Cortez]

(my apologies! wont happen again =] )

I stared at her, feeling my lips press tightly into a thin line. Her questions tumbled out, uncontrolled. She was asking too many, the answers which I didn't want to hand out to any person that showed interest; a feeling of deja vu stabbed at me.
"Who am I?" I repeated, smirking. "Why do you wanna know? And give me a good reason."
I looked down at the suitcase, which she was eying.
"And the thing I was looking for is right here," I said softly, tapping the top of the suitcase. "And what's in it?" I smiled. "That's for me to know, and...that's about it."
I turned on my heel then, feeling tiredness and anxiety oppress me again. Today had dragged on too long, and I had to get home and think about my next step. I wasn't about to continue entertaining a stranger's interest; I had already done that once, and look where it got me...