G.A.L.E. Force - Duology [Sample]

One - The Pawn

LAWRENCE CROXLEY WAS late as usual.

    This is exactly why most people have a car, he thought. He stood at the corner and waited for the bus, grinding his teeth as he kept taking his phone out to re-check the clock. His ride was ten minutes behind schedule. Stupid traffic. Of course, it was a rare moment when downtown Atlanta wasn't gridlocked.

    Lawrence ruffled his mop, blond locks falling into his eyes as he took off down the sidewalk to catch the train instead. Skyscrapers towered above and blocked the sun, and he zipped his hoodie to combat the morning air. Red and orange leaves crunched under his feet as he turned a corner. They were going to fire him this time, he just knew it. It didn't matter how proficient he was with a camera; there were twenty others who were as good—or better—and raring to steal his position.

    He smiled, though, when he saw that the stairwell descending into the underground station was almost empty. But as he started down the cement steps, a young woman rushed up from the platform. Her plain, gray jumpsuit was a strange fashion choice. It made her look like she'd just escaped from prison. Her dark brown curls swung around as she continually glanced back at two men in black suits, who were right on her heels. Why were they chasing her? Maybe she did escape from prison.

    As she got closer to Lawrence, their eyes met and her stare reminded him of a hungry cat—which made him the mouse. He turned to get out of the way, but before he could think, she grabbed his arm and pulled him along out into the street.

    What the hey? He cleared his throat. "Uh, hi? Wanna explain why you're holding onto my arm?"

    She ignored him and turned back to her pursuers, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. The men slowed, but continued to approach. Cocking an eyebrow, she grabbed Lawrence's other arm. He seized up. What kind of craziness did he just get mixed up in? He tried to shout but the words wouldn't come out, like the connection between his mind and mouth had broken. He tried to break free, but couldn't move his arm. The men stopped and the girl took off down the sidewalk, pulling Lawrence along. The few other people around didn't seem to care and ignored them.

    As she led him down a path between two buildings, his mental haze cleared. Lawrence tried to squirm free again but couldn't break her grasp. Instead, it tightened even more. What was this? A death grip? He let out a yell, but there was no one close enough to hear. You know what, she's tiny. I can take her.

    Though he disliked the idea of hitting a girl, his hand balled into a fist.

    "A warning: do not try to hit me. A fight with me would not end well for you." She squeezed harder.

    Searing pain ran up Lawrence's arm. What kind of vitamins had she been taking? They rounded another corner, then went behind a brick building.

    Now or never. He tried to kick her shin. The girl stepped out of the way too fast, spinning in place, whipping Lawrence around by his arm, like he was a horse on a merry-go-round. After building momentum, she smirked and let go, sending him sprawling. His palms scraped as he hit the old, cracked pavement. A trash can nearby reeked and made him gag. But before Lawrence could get up, she placed a foot on his back and forced him down.

    "I did warn you that a fight with me would not end well."

    His mother should've made him take self-defense instead of dance. He glared as the girl latched onto his now sore arm and yanked him back up, and his frazzled mind tried to understand how she could even do that. Yes, he was skinny—but so was she. Something ain't right, here.

    Dragging him along, she took off down the back alley and returned them to the main district. They turned a corner, and there were people milling about the fancy, towering hotels lined up along the street. Maybe these people would care. Lawrence opened his mouth to scream.