Post by Gabrielle "Chance" Coleman on Jul 23, 2010 6:34:12 GMT -5
((I'm probably going to post more threads, depending on how fast or how active all you fellow RPers are in posting, because I tend to get bored very quickly ^^; Blues can join, since I wrote one in, and anyone else can join too))
All kinds of civilians yelled or screamed at me as I rushed past them, pushing the human obstacles aside and shouting apologies. My messenger bag kept hitting my side, but I ignored it, intent on delivering the package that the bag held. I vaulted over the table at the security checkpoint, where some civilians were getting their bags checked. The bag searchers were too baffled to even assist the damn cop who was chasing me.
The entire time I was trying to escape, I was thinking, I knew this was impossible! And that damn Brennan knew it as well! Unfortunately, my anger had caused me to lose focus, which resulted in me crashing into a man, knocking him to the ground. As a Runner, I learned how to maintain my balance should such a thing happen, and I shouted another apology before continuing my run, flashing back to when I received the client’s call.
* * *
I was at my place, looking through the Blues’ database, checking their Runner files just so I could know a friendly face when I saw one, when I heard ringing in my earpiece. I checked the caller ID on my computer, and I sighed in relief. Finally, some work. Realizing it was a video call, I opened my webcam program, and clicked Answer. A video screen pulled up, and I saw a man dressed in a neat black suit. He seemed to be in some sort of head boss office, with the wooden desk and an incredibly large window that held an amazing view of The City. The man had his back to me, his hands folded behind him, possibly observing the distant buildings.
I frowned inwardly. Businessman. Great…and he’s the boss too by the looks of it, which means he screams wealth. Let’s just say that I don’t exactly like businessmen, or rich people for that matter. From my experiences, those kinds of people don’t exactly have anything nice to deliver, which can get a Runner into big trouble with the Blues. And not only just businessmen or the wealthy, I reminded myself. There’re drug dealers, crime bosses, gang members, and fugitives. They're all dangerous clients.
After a long silence, the man asked in a positive tone, “Have you ever taken the time to just sit back and enjoy the view of The City?”
Figuring he was talking to me, I shook my head. “Not really. It’s just a plain old city to me.” Maybe I shouldn’t have been so casual. After all, I hadn’t gotten a client in weeks, and I needed money for food and supplies. If I made a bad move, there goes all that money. But this guy was a businessman. No way was he getting my respect, not by a long shot.
But instead of yelling (which was what I expected him to do), the man chuckled. “And I suppose the color doesn’t help.” It didn’t really sound like a question, but that aside, he was right. Seeing the same color everywhere, it gets boring, and sometimes a bit annoying. “But, that’s why I look at the sun instead.” I raised an eyebrow, watching the man as he pointed to said sun. “See? Doesn’t it look marvelous, just peering over all of those skyscrapers?”
“Sure,” I muttered unsurely, “It looks amazing.” The man sighed, his shoulders sagging.
“If only more people could see it like you and I,” he uttered somberly.
I rolled my eyes, before running a hand through my hair. “Look, I highly doubt you called me to talk about the view, so if we could…” Trailing off, I hoped the man would get where I was going with this.
He suddenly laughed, and turned around, holding his arms out. “Straight to business, I see!” He pointed at me as he went to sit in his desk chair. “I admire that. You’re the kind of person I need in my workplace.” I didn’t say anything, merely crossing my arms and leaning back in my chair. Whatever he wanted to deliver, it must have been pretty important, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so friendly.
The businessman seemed to be around his mid-thirties, with short, black brown hair that was combed back. He had slightly narrow eyes, with deep brown irises, and he also had high cheekbones. Any other woman would think he was handsome, but I’m not one to ogle or even pay any mind to a man’s looks. I needed money. Nothing else mattered.
After the man sat down, he leaned forward, placing his arms on the desk and holding his hands at his mouth. “It’s Chance, isn’t it?”
“That’s my name,” I answered, not at all fazed by his friendliness.
The man smiled, his eyes shining. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m Richard Brennan, head of the Brennan Corporation.”
I only nodded, gazing at the name plate on Brennan’s desk as I replied, “I can see that.” He ignored my statement as he raised his head slightly.
“Hard to believe that such a delicate thing is in the Runner business,” he told me, smirking lightly, and I scowled. Delicate? Hardly. Brennan must have noticed my annoyance, since he had held up a hand, but there was still a grin on his face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to upset you. Now, down to business.” About time.
Brennan leaned back in his chair, and propped his feet up on his desk, one leg over the other. His expression turned serious. “I have a package for you to deliver. It’s for one of my coworkers,” he explained, and he gripped onto the armrests of his chair. “He lives over on the West Side, near the docks. Now, the package is in one of the lockers at the East Subway, and one of your Runners will have to get it there. I can give you both the code of the locker and my coworker’s address, but first,” Brennan tilted his head a bit, “will you take the job?” My mind was calculating the odds of getting caught. Chance of it happening was already over 50% the minute Brennan had mentioned getting the package at the subway. Security cameras could see a Runner going to the lockers and grabbing the thing, plus the moment a Blue sees a person holding any case, any package, they raise the red flag.
That wasn’t the only problem. I didn’t have many Runners at my side, but most of them had already been recorded in the Blues’ database, meaning they could be recognized if they didn’t keep a low profile. What about Prescott? He hasn’t been recorded yet. I cursed inwardly when I remembered something. Prescott had called me the other night to tell me that he’s going to lay low for a while, something about being spotted doing a huge crime. So that left only me.
“The payment is $800,” Brennan suddenly stated, breaking me out of my thoughts and I bit my lip. Don’t take the job, Chance. It’s suicidal. You’ll get caught, and you’ll have no one but yourself to blame. I raised a hand to my chin, my eyes narrowing as I added, But I need the money. I’m practically broke, and I don’t want to resort to dumpster diving for food. I should just take it. While one part of my mind still protested to the idea, I sighed.
“Fine, you got yourself a deal,” I finally answered, my eyes closing for a moment as I massaged my forehead in exhaustion. “Just give me the locker code, its number, and the destination.”
“You made the right choice,” Brennan commented proudly, and I opened my eyes to glare at him.
“Right or not, it doesn’t matter,” I retorted, trying to keep my tone in check. “When do you want it delivered?” Turning in my chair, I grabbed a nearby note pad and pen, ready to take notes.
If Brennan was taken aback by my attitude, it didn’t show, because he was grinning just like before. “In two days, and it must be delivered before 10 a.m.” I arched an eyebrow while I wrote down the info, and I looked up at the businessman.
“Why?” I asked with a huff, returning to my notes. “Something important happening by then?”
“Absolutely,” Brennan answered happily. “It’s the man’s birthday, and I have a surprise for him.” Like I'd believe that... I halfheartedly muttered a small, “whatever,” under my breath as I wrote down the date and time when the package was to be delivered. “Strange,” I heard the man say, “I thought you Runners weren’t supposed to ask questions.” I sensed a hint of annoyance in his voice, and surprisingly, I smirked to myself, a bit glad that I had at least managed to piss off the businessman. After all, Brennan seemed arrogant, and I dislike arrogant men.
Once I was given the address, the locker’s number and code, I was ready to say goodbye in hopes of not seeing the man’s face ever again, but before I turned off the video program, Brennan reminded me with a smile.
“Remember, Chance…it must be delivered before 10 in the morning.” He did that head tilt again. “If not, your pay is cut in half.” With that said, the video screen turned black, and I seethed, clenching the notepad in my hand. Like I said, businessmen and I don’t mix together very well.
* * *
I really wanted to blame Brennan for this, but I knew it was my fault for taking the job. I was already regretting my decision. Of course, I was still curious about how the Blue suspected me. Did he see me get the package from the locker? Or had he seen my face before?
As I slid down a large band of metal between two escalators, I could hear my pursuer shouting at the civilians to get out of his way. Unless he knew how to chase a Runner, he would try to go down the escalators, which were luckily occupied with many people. I got a head start, I thought with confidence, and some relief. On my way down the makeshift ramp, a bullet pinged off the metal, making me flinch. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the Blue had his pistol out and was standing at the railing, one hand gripping onto the metal while the other was trying to aim at me. Damn it. I was hoping he wouldn’t use his gun considering all of the people around, but it made sense that he tried to now, since I was out in the open. I instantly got up to my feet, running for the terminal. Get back into the crowd! Get back into the crowd! my mind shouted at me, and once I reached the bottom level, I rushed back into the crowds of people, using the same strategy I used upstairs.
I needed to get on the subway heading for East Side, quick. Checking my watch, I paled, realizing that it was going to leave in just a few minutes. Desperately, I pushed aside some more people, forgetting to apologize. Fortunately, I spotted a large gap, and chose to use it as a path, reading the signs hanging from the ceiling.
When I had finally spotted my ride, I heard shouts, and turned to see that the Blue had made it past the escalators. I cursed under my breath, spinning around to make my way to the subway, pushing against the civilians even harder. I was getting closer.
My heart nearly leapt up my throat when the doors began to close, and I pushed myself harder, trying to gain more speed, but it was difficult with all of the people around. Luckily, I was able to make it to the subway car in time, and as I ran through the doors, I heard a gunshot. Something pierced through my shoulder, and I let out a pained yell, stumbling into the car while clutching my arm.
My eyes widened as I looked at the wound. The cop had actually fired a bullet, through all of those people…and hit me. What luck, I thought sarcastically, hissing when I accidentally touched the stupid injury. I looked up, and met the shocked stares of the car’s passengers. Immediately, I froze. Now what? Considering what this city’s people are like, I doubted someone would try to be a hero and do something about me.
A bit unnerved about the stares, I walked over to a nearby seat, and sat down. A few people nearby hastily moved away, still watching me as if I was about to pull out a gun. I sighed to myself, and turned my attention to the bullet wound in my shoulder.
Climbing is certainly not an option when I get to West Side…Carefully, I leaned back against the leather seat, so as to not make any rash movements. In order to stop the bleeding, I pulled out a roll of bandages from my bag, grateful to Prescott for annoyingly convincing me to carry said roll. Sadly, I didn’t have a full medical kit with me, so disinfecting the wound would have to wait. As I began to wrap the bandages around my shoulder, I prayed that the Blue chasing me wasn’t planning on stopping the subway. I had enough problems already.