Post by Deleted on Dec 16, 2015 22:31:35 GMT -5
The cold air stung his body, as he bolted from the underground into the outdoors outside of The Pentagon. Only he didn't know that he was outside of The Pentagon, but that didn't matter right now. What did matter was that somebody wanted him alive, when he was slated to be killed. And that was all that mattered to George. That was what that guy called him, whoever he was...
He had no clothes on. Not even underwear, but it didn't stop him from disabling the security guards who were caught unaware outside of the access point to The Pentagon, as he grabbed a hold of one of them from behind, while his buddy pulled his weapon. The guard was already a walking corpse as "George" closed the gap, the dead guard a meat shield between himself and the guard, who was shaking like a whore in church, fearful of getting struck down.
"George" tossed the dead body at the guard, before relieving the guard of his pistol and smacking him with it in a whirlwind technique, as "George" felt the crackle of bone underneath the butt of the pistol. The neck of the guard cracked shortly after the impact, leaving him dead where he had stood, before "George" took off yet again.
He looked around to see if there was any cover, to find that there was little to none. A few copse of trees here and there, and parking lots for days. He ran through the parking lots, looking inside of the cars, before he heard gunshots follow him into the concrete and steel jungle, as he says...
"George": SHIT!!!
Bullets slammed into the side windows of a minivan, as he dived underneath of the car next to it, low-crawling to avoid more gunfire or potential ricochets off of the pavement. Safest place to be when bullets are flying, he knew, unless being aimed directly upon, and they did not have a clear shot at him. Not yet, so long as he kept moving...
He moved a few lanes over, risking gunfire out in the open as he saw the PERFECT vehicle to take in this venture. A 1982 Dodge Ramcharger Sport Utility Vehicle. He tried to activate the handle, but no luck. Doesn't anybody TRUST anybody, anymore? Obviously not, as "George" went around the vehicle and drove an elbow into the passenger-side vehicle window of the Ramcharger. He ducked immediately, moving down another row of vehicles, yet again out into the open, but now drawing fire.
"George" looked to see that security was starting to fan out, and the sirens in the area was starting to close in. This did not bode well for "George", who was still naked, exposed, and running out of options, until he saw in the street opposite the parking lot a storm drain that he could potentially fit himself into. With any luck, it would be attached to the sewer system, and he could evade law enforcement for days down there. All he had to do was just get over there, and get into the sewer system proper.
Rather than expose himself on a dead run, he got on his belly and crawled underneath and in between vehicles whenever he found that clearances would not allow his body to crawl beneath them. When he got to the edge, he got back to his feet, as the front of him was covered in enough dirt and grime from the parking lot that he did not look as naked as when he started to escape. He had even started to bleed a little, as the chilly December air hit the cuts in a way that burned even more than when he initially hit the cold Arlington County air.
The gambit paid off, as he bolted across the street like any pedestrian would if not in a crosswalk, but really felt the urge to cross the street wherever they felt the urge. He slid into the slit that allowed for drainage to collect and dump into the sewage system, and found it to be empty, as he dropped for at least 10 feet to the bottom of the drainage collection point onto his head and shoulder. He would've rolled with it, and did, only for his lower back to strike a concrete wall for his efforts in breaking his fall.
"George": AWW! Son of a...
"George" did not bother finishing the statement. Between the crashing to the bottom of the cavernous hole, and those few uttered words, who know how much the echo would carry? Did he give his position away? He instead righted himself, and got on his bottom, his testicles rubbing wrong under him, but maintaining discipline NOT to groan in discontent. Instead, he re-positioned himself to sit comfortably and looked to see if there was access to the sewers from here.
He found himself without the benefit of light, so he felt around for anything. He started on the floor, to see if there was a grate that filtered out objects that could damage the sewer system. While there was nothing of the sort on the floor, he did manage to find a golf club. An iron of some sort, as he felt the head to discern what he was holding. With his fingertips, and the fingernail, he was able to determine that it was a 9 Iron, which brought him joy, for some strange reason.
The joyous moment was over, as he continued to feel for some sort of access to the sewer, and found it in the form of a steel door on the wall going away from the street. He found the handle, and felt the tumbler allow him access, but when he pushed or pulled, the door did not budge...
"George" grunted in disgust, as he felt the door and the direction it was to move in. The door went in towards wherever this access led to, so he slammed his shoulder into the door in hopes it would give. It gave, albeit maybe a few millimeters at most.
"George": Goddamn cock-sucking motherfucker...
"George" slammed harder into the door, to which it swung open great, big, and wide in response to the blow he dealt to the door. He moved into the hallway, which was actually lit. He closed the door behind him, and felt the handle to see if there was a lock on it, which brought him great joy as he activated the lock and secured his rear. He could hear his heart racing inside the tunnel, and worked to bring it back to a manageable pace. His mind then went back to several minutes before, when he was told to run for his life...
Before that, he found himself tied to a gurney. For what, he had no clue. All he knew was that he was getting wheeled away to a lab of some sort. At least that was where they said they were going. Then some black guy came and knocked the two guys out who were wheeling me away, before he unbuckled him, and told him to "Get the fuck out of here, George. Run! That way!"
He pointed in a direction, before turning away. The man was wearing a military uniform of some sort, with the name "Steele" on his right jacket pocket. "George" started to engage him in words, only to be rebuffed, as "Steele" said "Run down the hall, take a left at the second crossing, another left four crossings down, then a right to lead you outta here! Take down whoever gets in your way with extreme prejudice. Especially anybody in uniform. Now GO AND QUIT TALKING TO ME, YOU FUCKING SQUID!!!"
He ran down the hall and followed the advice of the man named "Steele", which led him out of the maze-like structure. Who was that guy anyways? And why did he take down those scientist doctor types? And why the fuck did he call "George" a "squid"? Or better yet, why did he trust him? And more importantly, how the fuck was "George" able to take down five armed men the way he did? There's luck, and then there's skill, and THAT was SKILL, 122.8%.
He walked down the hallway a bit, to find that the lone source of light down the hallway led to the front of a door marked "Maintenance Storage", and grabbed the handle and turned. Again, he felt the tumbler within the door mechanism activate and open for him. Inside were tools of the trade for sewage workers, to include some suits that were intended for wading through the shit and muck that was the sewage system of anyplace on Earth, to include respirators and tools to clear out debris from sewage grates. He was quick to put on a suit, respirator, and boots, before grabbing up the tools of the trade for a sanitation professional, before moving on to the main outlet for the sewage of Arlington County, Washington D.C., and from wherever the refuse originates from.
It took several minutes, perhaps even an hour before he could find a place to stand his near six and a half foot frame upright again. That also happened to be the time that he found the outlet that led to what he assumed would be the Potomac River. He found it strange that he was able to discern that this ran to the Potomac, but for the life of him, could not remember his own fucking name! Or what he had done, to either be locked inside of that place, or what he did with his life prior to all of this. If "Steele" was any indication, he had a military career, and must have done something wrong. Or was it right, and someone else, the "Bad Guys", whoever they were, wanted him dead. Who were the bad guys? Who were good?
He pondered this, as he allowed himself to get washed out into the Potomac with the rest of the shit. With any luck, he could wash out to Alexandria, and hit up the train station there to get himself out of the area. That is, if the river did not wash him completely into the Chesapeake Bay. Either way, he needed to get the hell out of the Greater Washington D.C. area. WAY too much shit in this particular area for his own taste...
He had no clothes on. Not even underwear, but it didn't stop him from disabling the security guards who were caught unaware outside of the access point to The Pentagon, as he grabbed a hold of one of them from behind, while his buddy pulled his weapon. The guard was already a walking corpse as "George" closed the gap, the dead guard a meat shield between himself and the guard, who was shaking like a whore in church, fearful of getting struck down.
"George" tossed the dead body at the guard, before relieving the guard of his pistol and smacking him with it in a whirlwind technique, as "George" felt the crackle of bone underneath the butt of the pistol. The neck of the guard cracked shortly after the impact, leaving him dead where he had stood, before "George" took off yet again.
He looked around to see if there was any cover, to find that there was little to none. A few copse of trees here and there, and parking lots for days. He ran through the parking lots, looking inside of the cars, before he heard gunshots follow him into the concrete and steel jungle, as he says...
"George": SHIT!!!
Bullets slammed into the side windows of a minivan, as he dived underneath of the car next to it, low-crawling to avoid more gunfire or potential ricochets off of the pavement. Safest place to be when bullets are flying, he knew, unless being aimed directly upon, and they did not have a clear shot at him. Not yet, so long as he kept moving...
He moved a few lanes over, risking gunfire out in the open as he saw the PERFECT vehicle to take in this venture. A 1982 Dodge Ramcharger Sport Utility Vehicle. He tried to activate the handle, but no luck. Doesn't anybody TRUST anybody, anymore? Obviously not, as "George" went around the vehicle and drove an elbow into the passenger-side vehicle window of the Ramcharger. He ducked immediately, moving down another row of vehicles, yet again out into the open, but now drawing fire.
"George" looked to see that security was starting to fan out, and the sirens in the area was starting to close in. This did not bode well for "George", who was still naked, exposed, and running out of options, until he saw in the street opposite the parking lot a storm drain that he could potentially fit himself into. With any luck, it would be attached to the sewer system, and he could evade law enforcement for days down there. All he had to do was just get over there, and get into the sewer system proper.
Rather than expose himself on a dead run, he got on his belly and crawled underneath and in between vehicles whenever he found that clearances would not allow his body to crawl beneath them. When he got to the edge, he got back to his feet, as the front of him was covered in enough dirt and grime from the parking lot that he did not look as naked as when he started to escape. He had even started to bleed a little, as the chilly December air hit the cuts in a way that burned even more than when he initially hit the cold Arlington County air.
The gambit paid off, as he bolted across the street like any pedestrian would if not in a crosswalk, but really felt the urge to cross the street wherever they felt the urge. He slid into the slit that allowed for drainage to collect and dump into the sewage system, and found it to be empty, as he dropped for at least 10 feet to the bottom of the drainage collection point onto his head and shoulder. He would've rolled with it, and did, only for his lower back to strike a concrete wall for his efforts in breaking his fall.
"George": AWW! Son of a...
"George" did not bother finishing the statement. Between the crashing to the bottom of the cavernous hole, and those few uttered words, who know how much the echo would carry? Did he give his position away? He instead righted himself, and got on his bottom, his testicles rubbing wrong under him, but maintaining discipline NOT to groan in discontent. Instead, he re-positioned himself to sit comfortably and looked to see if there was access to the sewers from here.
He found himself without the benefit of light, so he felt around for anything. He started on the floor, to see if there was a grate that filtered out objects that could damage the sewer system. While there was nothing of the sort on the floor, he did manage to find a golf club. An iron of some sort, as he felt the head to discern what he was holding. With his fingertips, and the fingernail, he was able to determine that it was a 9 Iron, which brought him joy, for some strange reason.
The joyous moment was over, as he continued to feel for some sort of access to the sewer, and found it in the form of a steel door on the wall going away from the street. He found the handle, and felt the tumbler allow him access, but when he pushed or pulled, the door did not budge...
"George" grunted in disgust, as he felt the door and the direction it was to move in. The door went in towards wherever this access led to, so he slammed his shoulder into the door in hopes it would give. It gave, albeit maybe a few millimeters at most.
"George": Goddamn cock-sucking motherfucker...
"George" slammed harder into the door, to which it swung open great, big, and wide in response to the blow he dealt to the door. He moved into the hallway, which was actually lit. He closed the door behind him, and felt the handle to see if there was a lock on it, which brought him great joy as he activated the lock and secured his rear. He could hear his heart racing inside the tunnel, and worked to bring it back to a manageable pace. His mind then went back to several minutes before, when he was told to run for his life...
Before that, he found himself tied to a gurney. For what, he had no clue. All he knew was that he was getting wheeled away to a lab of some sort. At least that was where they said they were going. Then some black guy came and knocked the two guys out who were wheeling me away, before he unbuckled him, and told him to "Get the fuck out of here, George. Run! That way!"
He pointed in a direction, before turning away. The man was wearing a military uniform of some sort, with the name "Steele" on his right jacket pocket. "George" started to engage him in words, only to be rebuffed, as "Steele" said "Run down the hall, take a left at the second crossing, another left four crossings down, then a right to lead you outta here! Take down whoever gets in your way with extreme prejudice. Especially anybody in uniform. Now GO AND QUIT TALKING TO ME, YOU FUCKING SQUID!!!"
He ran down the hall and followed the advice of the man named "Steele", which led him out of the maze-like structure. Who was that guy anyways? And why did he take down those scientist doctor types? And why the fuck did he call "George" a "squid"? Or better yet, why did he trust him? And more importantly, how the fuck was "George" able to take down five armed men the way he did? There's luck, and then there's skill, and THAT was SKILL, 122.8%.
He walked down the hallway a bit, to find that the lone source of light down the hallway led to the front of a door marked "Maintenance Storage", and grabbed the handle and turned. Again, he felt the tumbler within the door mechanism activate and open for him. Inside were tools of the trade for sewage workers, to include some suits that were intended for wading through the shit and muck that was the sewage system of anyplace on Earth, to include respirators and tools to clear out debris from sewage grates. He was quick to put on a suit, respirator, and boots, before grabbing up the tools of the trade for a sanitation professional, before moving on to the main outlet for the sewage of Arlington County, Washington D.C., and from wherever the refuse originates from.
It took several minutes, perhaps even an hour before he could find a place to stand his near six and a half foot frame upright again. That also happened to be the time that he found the outlet that led to what he assumed would be the Potomac River. He found it strange that he was able to discern that this ran to the Potomac, but for the life of him, could not remember his own fucking name! Or what he had done, to either be locked inside of that place, or what he did with his life prior to all of this. If "Steele" was any indication, he had a military career, and must have done something wrong. Or was it right, and someone else, the "Bad Guys", whoever they were, wanted him dead. Who were the bad guys? Who were good?
He pondered this, as he allowed himself to get washed out into the Potomac with the rest of the shit. With any luck, he could wash out to Alexandria, and hit up the train station there to get himself out of the area. That is, if the river did not wash him completely into the Chesapeake Bay. Either way, he needed to get the hell out of the Greater Washington D.C. area. WAY too much shit in this particular area for his own taste...
