In the Middle

"Are they after you or me?"

Irithel looked up from reloading her blaster as a young man ducked into her hiding spot next to her, followed by two burly men who towered over them both and moved like they had seen a brawl or two.

The question was entirely uncomfortable and Irithel had no slightest intention of answering it.

"None of your business," she snapped, and opened fire on the dozen or so men who were pouring out of a black, unmarked shop, loaded with powerful, high-tech weapons. "Why? Are they after you?"

"It's a possibility," the man said, and traded his pistol for one of his bodyguards' and opened fire himself, beautifully accurate. "But they aren't as capable as the ones who usually come after me."

"Sounds like you've got problems of your own."

"Plenty, but mostly handled better than this little fiasco. Damn. Here they come."

Irithel hissed a curse, shoved her hair out of her eyes, and punched one of the incoming guys in the face. Curse it all, she just wanted to get her groceries, but NO. No, naturally it had to be the day that the damn government jack-booted thugs tracked her down and decided to grab her.

Not that the grabbing was going so well for them, but it was the thought that counted.

Her new friend planted his back to hers, pulled on a set of brass knuckles, and set to beating anyone who came at him flat into the ground.

He was a good fighter. That was nice to see in an unexpected ally. His bodyguards, completely identical, were somewhat more lethal, but not as fast.

"Left, I need a ship!" Irithel's new friend yelled over the gunfire and the sounds of an all-out market brawl boiling up. The Undercity liked nothing better than a good fight, and would take any excuse. "Now!"

"Does it have to be red?" One of the bodyguards yelled back, and hurled one man into four others like he was nothing at all. "I dunno if I have time to find a red one!"

"Just find me something that will get off the goddamned ground!"

That sounded like a long-standing joke. Irithel liked the man better. The ones who could joke with their bodyguards were usually the decent sort. Especially if they could joke in a tight spot.

"We could take theirs!" The other guard suggested as they fought over to Irithel's side and joined their group, solid walls of muscle, both of them. "Looks like it'll get some air."

"Good enough," Irithel's friend decided, and caught her eye. "You want a lift to anywhere but here?"

"You know, for a pickup line, that wasn't bad," she told him, and caught a glimpse of his grin. He was all sorts of good-looking, even tousled and in the middle of an unexpected brawl. "Sure. Anywhere but here!"

Fighting their way to the ship was harder than she would have liked but easier than she expected. The attacking commandos didn't seem to know what to do about people running at them rather than away.

Soon there was something under her boots as they scrambled up the hatch. The few commandos inside were not expecting to be stormed, and were summarily ejected with a good deal of force.

Her new friend bolted for the cockpit and woke the ship with the kind of precision only the best pilots had.

Irithel threw herself into the seat next to him and buckled in. She had a feeling it was going to be a hell of a ride.

"Awe hell, Impie's at the wheel!" One of the guards yelled to the other, who replied with a great deal of very impressive profanity.

He also unloaded one of the ship's guns into the other commando drop ship, so there was that too.