Iron and Flame

Evey left her little sentry box and it's safety from falling debris as an alarm sounded in the distance, she was the only one close enough to investigate.

Her gun in hand, her cartridge bag slung across her chest, praying not to need them.

Her nostrils met with acrid smoke and unseasonable warmth. Fire!

Rounding the corner she could just see figures by the fire, one making liberal use of a blowtorch against a defenceless warehouse.

Enemy Agents, or mere arsonists, this was her job;

"Stop, put your hands up you're under arrest." The other man pointed something at her.

Blowtorch against a gun, that, was going to work wonders.

Taking three steps forwards to demonstrate she meant business, staying out of reach but taking command of the situation, remembering the remits of her training;

Take charge don't give them control or power of a situation or your chances of ending the situation diminish rapidly but most of all listen to your instincts.

For the moment she was in control.

A loud bang.

Another incident elsewhere? Tonight seemed busy.

A sting.

She clapped her hand to her chest. There was warmth.

A Slow, slow realisation: She couldn't die.

Not before Dan came home.

Not before finishing the job.

They turned away from her leaving her for dead.

As cold began to spread from the wound.

She panicked it couldn't be.

It couldn't be.

She'd fallen forward, her gun in her outstretched hands.

No

Not yet.

With force of will, leaning the weapon became a staff, a crutch.

Hauling herself up to her feet. unsteadily the Bastards didn't seem to notice her.

She struggled to her box, pressing the alarm, that being done she felt as though she'd regained some vague semblance of order in her life. Her indignation took over. they were not going anywhere, they were not going to get away with shooting her.

A plan kept her focused believing that if she could plan and act, then her injury wouldn't catch up with her, she could keep the adrenaline pumping a short while longer, probably the biggest self con ever but it comforted her.

They were still oblivious to her presence, more fool them.

With the most uncharitable grin she struck the gunman with the butt of her gun and before she lost balance and advantage she struck true again.

Served them bloody right.

Evey pulled them further from the flame. despite their not deserving it.

Bleeding profusely now, God she needed help to come.

Back to her sentry box, every step a persecution.

She rang, sinking to the floor her phone in hand;

"Please, sector 7, Help, fire, I've been shot." A comforting voice spoke, she listened only to the lovely lilt while raiding the contents of the much plundered first aid box, she poured water over her wound before binding it with bandages and surgical tape. It'd have to do.

One more job to do. she picked up the handcuffs forcing herself back to the arsonists, they couldn't get away, she could collapse later to her heart's content.

At least they were still out for the count.

With only one set of handcuffs she had to get creative using their own belts, she hoped they would hold.

Exhausted she sat against a wall, the smoke agitating her lungs she tried not to cough as cold spread through her.

Not.

Yet.

Closing her eyes, just a minute, until through her slumber she could feel moisture, droplets on her face, cool like the dew and a soothing voice:

"Evelyn Carter."

She opened her eyes slowly.

It's Parkhurst, captured arsonists, their weapons rendered neutral. Stay back, gun across me is live, weakly her fingers clutched at it.

The owner of the voice took it from her.

"Well done Evelyn , stand down, let us take care of you now."

Through the commotion and through the pain Evey smiled

She'd managed it

#fire #episode #fight #handcuff #emergency