Brendon knows that if he just keeps running he'll find his way out of the compound. They're all built in the sharp angled form that the Corps have favoured since their founding and he's on the outside tier. Knowing how to get out isn't the problem. The problem is the ringing alarms and body-armor clad security pounding after him. He can taste blood in his mouth from where one of them managed to split his lip with a fist before he got away. He feels the shock of an explosion whip through the floor but keeps going. Brendon rounds the corner, the compsole of his boots skidding on the slick floor as he moves too fast for them to compensate, and bursts through the still smoking hole that's been blown in the wall just as he planned.
There is a sleek low slung transpo jittering in place and he throws himself into the open side skidding over the deck plate to land against the opposite door. The transpo rockets up before he can catch his breath. The pilot is pushing it, forcing them into a razor sharp turn that makes Brendon desperately grab a cargo net to keep himself in place. Below him he hears the chatter of gunfire and then the unmistakable pops of Aprils detonating in the air. He doesn't bother looking down to see them unloading their payload of thousands of poison tipped needles, instead he crawls forward toward the pilot's chair.
The black stripe of hair running down the pilot's head, flatted only by a comm set, lets him recognize Frank even if he hadn't already known from the sharp manoeuvres the pilot was making the transpo pull. Brendon wriggles into the co-pilot seat and Frank turns to grin at him but his mouth pulls into a worried snarl. Brendon reaches up to wipe his mouth off and sure enough his hand comes away bloody. Brendon leans forward and twists so he can quickly press his mouth against Frank's; trying to say he's okay, reassure Frank that he made it. Brendon tastes smoke and the underlying bitterness of re't powder. Brendon pulls back quickly not wanting to distract Frank too long when they've still got to worry about the Corps on their tail. Frank licks his lips and his grin is back. There's a deep whump and the transpo rocks in a way that Brendon has always associated with shockwaves. His checks the rear monitor and sees a cloud rising from the Corps building. Fire is licking upwards at its base. It's the typical aftermath of the easily made Firefists that Frank favors for causing maximum damage quickly. On the monitor the fire flares bright and high. Frank's grin is nasty.
Re: MCR/PATD, Frank/Brendon
There is a sleek low slung transpo jittering in place and he throws himself into the open side skidding over the deck plate to land against the opposite door. The transpo rockets up before he can catch his breath. The pilot is pushing it, forcing them into a razor sharp turn that makes Brendon desperately grab a cargo net to keep himself in place. Below him he hears the chatter of gunfire and then the unmistakable pops of Aprils detonating in the air. He doesn't bother looking down to see them unloading their payload of thousands of poison tipped needles, instead he crawls forward toward the pilot's chair.
The black stripe of hair running down the pilot's head, flatted only by a comm set, lets him recognize Frank even if he hadn't already known from the sharp manoeuvres the pilot was making the transpo pull. Brendon wriggles into the co-pilot seat and Frank turns to grin at him but his mouth pulls into a worried snarl. Brendon reaches up to wipe his mouth off and sure enough his hand comes away bloody. Brendon leans forward and twists so he can quickly press his mouth against Frank's; trying to say he's okay, reassure Frank that he made it. Brendon tastes smoke and the underlying bitterness of re't powder. Brendon pulls back quickly not wanting to distract Frank too long when they've still got to worry about the Corps on their tail. Frank licks his lips and his grin is back. There's a deep whump and the transpo rocks in a way that Brendon has always associated with shockwaves. His checks the rear monitor and sees a cloud rising from the Corps building. Fire is licking upwards at its base. It's the typical aftermath of the easily made Firefists that Frank favors for causing maximum damage quickly. On the monitor the fire flares bright and high. Frank's grin is nasty.
"I left them an extra present, you like?"
"I like."