Laurel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
laurel_crown) wrote2012-12-03 03:14 pm
laurel_crown) wrote2012-12-03 03:14 pm
Entry tags:
too many things to cover me (procrastination story)
So this is what happens when I watch MI4: Ghost Protocol for a second time, and my brain latches on to the scene where (tiny SPOILER) Ethan has just saved the world and Sidorov (the Russian spy following him) comes over to talk.
I called it a procrastination story because I really should have been working on my Yuletide fic, but there you go. I wanted to get it out the way. I've actually written out the meeting between Cora and Rookwell this refers to (which came, like a lot of my random stories, from a dream I thought was cool) so this is a sort of sequel.
Title: too many things to cover me
Rating: PG (mild violence)
Wordcount: 2,604
Summary: Cora finds herself in some trouble after a job goes wrong.
Notes: Title comes from Moby's 'Extreme Ways', because that's also connected to spy things. Yes, the names might come from the fact that I like Supernatural and Coraline a lot. There may or may not be anything coming after this.
too many things to cover me
Cora let the gun clatter to the ground, arm falling limply beside it as she dragged the cool air through her lungs. In, out. The sharp pain in her side was nothing compared to the agony in her leg. She swore softly at the frozen droid half-bent over her, pushing at her shoulder until it clicked back into place.
Her earpiece crackled. Cora stiffened, waiting for what Dean was going to say. If he asked if she was alright, she would break down; his sympathy weakened her.
“Cora, you have to hurry – once the virus is in, that’s it! The console room is right next to you, so get moving!” Dean’s tinny voice was crisp, efficient. Orders she could steel herself into obeying.
She used the wall to stand up, then hopped on her right leg along it until she got to the door. Cora drew breath, but Dean opened it before she could ask. She knew better than to try to put weight on her bad leg; she would just have to hop into the console room without the wall for support. Gritting her teeth, arms held wide for balance, she headed straight for the control board.
She frowned at the maze teeming with wires, cables, switches and lights, but saw no sign of a bug. She barely knew what she was looking for, anyway; how on earth did he navigate this mess? “Dean, I can’t see it,” she whispered. She knew she was alone, but it felt safer to stay quiet.
“Give me a mo, I’ll check the camera.” Silence for a few seconds, then she heard something that could have been a swear word. It was hard to tell, with Dean. “I can’t see the board well enough, but there are drones right behind you!”
Cora started as a bang came from the door Dean had shut, and had to clutch at the cables in front of her as she swayed. Looking up to make sure she hadn’t pulled any out, she saw something small and out of place glint at her from the very top of the board. Gotcha. She bent her knee, slowly, holding her injured leg above the ground.
She jumped up as the door burst open behind her, hand closing on the bug and pulling it down as she fell. Fresh pain tore through her, and she collapsed sideways, arms curled to her chest to keep hold of the bug.
“Cora, did you-”
Dean cut off abruptly, crashes coming over the earpiece, but Cora barely heard. Her leg was on fire, the bug felt hot in her palm, and a drone was speaking to her, metallic voice sliding past her ears without registering. She did feel the point of its electric gun on her arm, nudging, and braced herself.
“Wait!” A new voice, loud over the intercom, cut through the haze. “I’m coming down.”
A few minutes passed; it could have been hours. Cora drifted in and out of consciousness, her earpiece and the drones silent. Finally someone came in, hard footsteps rousing her once more. She listened as the person walked up and squatted behind her, facing the control board.
“Your friend claims you were retrieving a bug,” the man told her softly. “Where is it?”
Cora unclenched her fingers from the metal, sliding her arm down so he could see. She tried to turn her head to look up at him, but she was too tired.
“I see.” His voice betrayed nothing, only mild surprise. “We might be on the same side after all.”
She closed her eyes and nodded, digging up a faint smile.
“Why didn’t you just tell us?”
Damn, this one required words. “No time,” she gasped out.
“But-” The man stopped himself. “How about we talk once the medics have looked at you?”
Cora nodded again, and managed a sigh of relief. She heard the man stand up, and give the drones orders. She barely felt the closest drone send its weakest electric pulse through her; the darkness was already beckoning.
Cora opened her eyes, and was pleased to notice the pain in her chest and foot had reduced to dull throbbing, and she was lying on a bed. She was less pleased to notice she couldn’t lift her arms from the covers, as she was handcuffed to the railings. She frowned and rattled them, anger drifting up through the fog in her head.
“Just a precaution, I assure you.” The man from the console room came into her field of vision. Cora did not find his smile entirely reassuring; perhaps this was deliberate. “After all,” he continued, “my drones didn’t actually see the bug in the system. They just saw you falling with it in your hand. So forgive me if I’m a little suspicious.”
Cora moved her head with a resigned smile to indicate this was fine. Nothing she wasn’t used to. Then a thought occurred; “Where’s Dean? Is he okay?”
“He’s well, just a little dazed from the Stun. But I want to be asking you the questions, Cora. Such as how you knew about this bug when we hadn’t even detected it being put there … if it was put there.”
“I didn’t-” Cora cut herself off with a sigh, then wished she hadn’t. “Why don’t you ask Dean? He’s in much better condition than I am.” Not to mention better at avoiding questions. The man just stared at her silently, and comprehension dawned. “Ah. You’ve already asked him, and now you want to see if I spin the same ridiculous tale.”
The man smiled again, and it was definitely disconcerting. “Well?”
Cora decided to get straight to the point. “We’re not crooks, mister. We work for … well, the government, ultimately. But they like us to be discreet, so we don’t get idents.” She stopped and thought for a moment, trying to summarise the events into something that would sound plausible. Yeah, as if.
“We were keeping tabs on a dealer, and we found out he’d sold a bug to someone, we don’t know who. A bug you could plug into a system, then send a virus to remotely. He told us this morning he’d sold it a few days ago, and he knew the person was coming to get the signalling device later today. Luckily for him, there was a tracker in the bug so he could tell us it was here … actually, where are we?”
“Private section of the Amanthe Hospital.”
Cora nodded, opened her mouth, then hesitated. “Oh.” The hospital nearest to the city lock-up. She swallowed. “Anyway, we knew we didn’t have a moment to lose. By the time you believed two disreputable people enough to check your console, the virus would have downloaded and be running riot through your system. So we didn’t ask.”
“And you proceeded to demolish my security.”
“I just froze them for five minutes! I only damaged the last one cause it knocked the gun out of my hand.”
“And I’d love to know how that works, exactly, but right now I’m more interested in what your last name is.”
Oh, no. Where did that come from? “Why?”
“If I know who you are, it would be a lot easier to find out if you really do work for the government, ‘ultimately’. So tell me.”
Cora glared at him. “I don’t have one. And even if I did, it wouldn’t help you find anything. I told you, the government wants to keep our connection discreet; you’re not going to find us on some file, no matter how much clearance your money gives you.”
“So when I type ‘Cora’ into the database, the only related file that comes up without the wrong girl’s picture attached is that of Captain Rookwell. Would you care to explain that?”
Cora’s eyes widened at the name, and she tried to cover up with a wry laugh. “Oh, the captain and me are old friends.” Her offhand gesture failed miserably; all it did was noisily remind the man that he was interrogating a prisoner. (Interrogation – she knew what that meant now. In detail.)
The man, however, merely raised his eyebrows. “A girl with no last name – a street rat, I assume – friends with the most class-conscious captain in the fleet?”
Cora grinned at this description; she’d always suspected something of the kind. “We’ve known each other a long time,” she said, sobering before he could stare the smile away. “But I wouldn’t call it a friendly relationship, no.” She stopped there, hoping he would change the damn subject.
The man gazed at her intently. “Go on.”
She shook her head, uneasy. “I can’t! He’ll kill me if I tell.”
He gripped the end of the bed and leaned over her, not angry but just cold, which frightened Cora more than any of Captain Rookwell’s hot fury had. “He’s not the one you have to worry about right now.”
Cora narrowed her eyes at him, trying to smother her fear with anger at these two men who had so much control over her life. “Alright, alright! But you have to swear not to tell anyone else.” She paused, in the faint hope he might agree, but of course he said nothing. She suppressed another sigh. “We met ten years ago, at his promotion. Do you remember that?”
The man frowned, straightening as he searched his memories. Cora could practically feel the weight of his gaze lifting off her. “Ah yes, the Rookwell promotion incident. He was humiliated on the podium by-” He drew breath sharply, head snapping around to face her.
Cora smiled faintly, too weary to produce the grin. “A street rat.”
“I see,” the man said, smugness creeping into his tone as he put the pieces together. “Didn’t he catch you a few years back?”
Cora blinked. “How did you hear about that?”
“Drones had only just been released to the public market; people always remember the first couple of chases they see, the first few times the new weapons are used. I reasoned that the most likely person to use drones on some street rat would be Captain Rookwell, after his revenge.”
Cora’s breaths came faster, a cold feeling spreading through her chest as she wrestled the memories back. When she dared glance at the man, he was looking at her hands; only then did she realise they were clenched into white-knuckled fists. She relaxed them with a wince.
“I see he got it,” the man said quietly. “So how does that lead to working for the government?”
Finally, something she wanted to talk about. “Dean saved me. Once he was finally finished, Rookwell wanted me locked up for as long as possible. The Acauldon Company was backing him, of course. But then Dean came along and pointed out that all we street rats needed was useful jobs, so then the community would benefit from more than just having us off the streets. He said he needed a nimble girl, and he’d take full responsibility for me. Once someone had talked to the judge, she agreed.”
“Someone?” the man prompted.
“Some agent, I guess. The judge left the courtroom and came back after a minute or so.” Cora gasped as inspiration hit, and lapsed back into her childhood accent for a moment. “Hey, maybe someone could come an’ talk to ya! That’d be enough proof, eh? You’d have to ask Dean, though.”
The man nodded, oh so pleasant now she was cooperating. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” He touched his earpiece and muttered something.
Cora frowned. “He’s here? You said he was okay!”
“Relax.” The man held up a hand. “I was talking to him while the medics treated you, but he wasn’t being particularly forthcoming. So I decided to bring him along with me, in case you would be more helpful.”
Cora opened her mouth to say something unwise, but was interrupted by a drone coming in through the door with Dean in tow. “Dean!” She was surprised at how relieved she felt to see her friend; how much she had come to depend on his presence, even just over an earpiece.
“Cora!” Dean jerked his arm out of the drone’s grip and ran over. “I’m so sorry, I heard you scream but I had to-”
“No, it’s fine,” Cora interrupted, trying to touch his hand. The cuff stopped the motion with a clink.
Dean looked down. “What …” He turned to face the other man. “Why have you locked her up, you bastard? She’s hardly going to hurt you like this!”
“Protocol,” the man said smoothly. “It was either that, or having a drone stand behind me. I figured Cora wouldn’t like that as much.”
Dean drew breath to say something even more foolish, but saw Cora’s hands fist in the corner of his eye. He reached down to cover one, and addressed his friend instead. “What happened?”
Cora grimaced. “I wasn’t expecting another droid, so it knocked the gun away before I could shoot. So then we grappled, and, since it was a human against a machine, it didn’t go so well. Blasted thing stood on the back of my ankle and – broke it?” She aimed the last at the man.
He nodded. “Ankle and ribs. The medics think your fibula might be cracked as well, but they’re not sure.”
Cora felt the familiar irritation at hearing a word she didn’t understand. “What?”
“Your leg might be a little broken as well.”
The street rat swore, under her breath; Dean would be proud. “Fantastic.” She looked at Dean again. “I managed to shoot it, and I was just putting my shoulder back in when you said to get a move on. I had to jump up to get the bug; it was right at the top of the cables. I think I saw it light up a few moments after I fell – that must have been the virus being sent over.”
They both looked at the man, who nodded again. “Our technicians are looking at it now.”
Dean frowned as a thought occurred to him. “Can’t you just get them to look over the security footage?”
“It doesn’t show the bug on the control board; it must be too small. They haven’t found anyone putting it in yet, either.”
Cora tugged on Dean’s hand. “He’ll believe us if you can get another agent to come in and talk to him.”
Her friend laughed. “And how do you suppose I do that? They’re not exactly at my beck and call; I can’t ring up and say ‘Hey, do you mind revealing the identity of one of the lads so he can clear up a spot of bother we’re in?’”
Cora scowled. “You can tell them they can send someone now, while only one person’s involved, or they can wait till it goes to court where a lot more people will know about it. Even if they make everything private like at my trial. Then all the crooks they want us to tail will know who we are.”
“Your logic is as compelling as ever,” Dean smiled. “But this guy’s going to have to trust me enough to let me get in contact with them without a drone playing watchdog.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” the man assured them, his disturbing smirk back in place. “My drones can tail you at a distance – and I have all the leverage I need to ensure your return.”
Both men turned to look at Cora. You’re lucky I’m tied up, she told them mentally. Or you’d both get a punch where it hurts.
I called it a procrastination story because I really should have been working on my Yuletide fic, but there you go. I wanted to get it out the way. I've actually written out the meeting between Cora and Rookwell this refers to (which came, like a lot of my random stories, from a dream I thought was cool) so this is a sort of sequel.
Title: too many things to cover me
Rating: PG (mild violence)
Wordcount: 2,604
Summary: Cora finds herself in some trouble after a job goes wrong.
Notes: Title comes from Moby's 'Extreme Ways', because that's also connected to spy things. Yes, the names might come from the fact that I like Supernatural and Coraline a lot. There may or may not be anything coming after this.
too many things to cover me
Cora let the gun clatter to the ground, arm falling limply beside it as she dragged the cool air through her lungs. In, out. The sharp pain in her side was nothing compared to the agony in her leg. She swore softly at the frozen droid half-bent over her, pushing at her shoulder until it clicked back into place.
Her earpiece crackled. Cora stiffened, waiting for what Dean was going to say. If he asked if she was alright, she would break down; his sympathy weakened her.
“Cora, you have to hurry – once the virus is in, that’s it! The console room is right next to you, so get moving!” Dean’s tinny voice was crisp, efficient. Orders she could steel herself into obeying.
She used the wall to stand up, then hopped on her right leg along it until she got to the door. Cora drew breath, but Dean opened it before she could ask. She knew better than to try to put weight on her bad leg; she would just have to hop into the console room without the wall for support. Gritting her teeth, arms held wide for balance, she headed straight for the control board.
She frowned at the maze teeming with wires, cables, switches and lights, but saw no sign of a bug. She barely knew what she was looking for, anyway; how on earth did he navigate this mess? “Dean, I can’t see it,” she whispered. She knew she was alone, but it felt safer to stay quiet.
“Give me a mo, I’ll check the camera.” Silence for a few seconds, then she heard something that could have been a swear word. It was hard to tell, with Dean. “I can’t see the board well enough, but there are drones right behind you!”
Cora started as a bang came from the door Dean had shut, and had to clutch at the cables in front of her as she swayed. Looking up to make sure she hadn’t pulled any out, she saw something small and out of place glint at her from the very top of the board. Gotcha. She bent her knee, slowly, holding her injured leg above the ground.
She jumped up as the door burst open behind her, hand closing on the bug and pulling it down as she fell. Fresh pain tore through her, and she collapsed sideways, arms curled to her chest to keep hold of the bug.
“Cora, did you-”
Dean cut off abruptly, crashes coming over the earpiece, but Cora barely heard. Her leg was on fire, the bug felt hot in her palm, and a drone was speaking to her, metallic voice sliding past her ears without registering. She did feel the point of its electric gun on her arm, nudging, and braced herself.
“Wait!” A new voice, loud over the intercom, cut through the haze. “I’m coming down.”
A few minutes passed; it could have been hours. Cora drifted in and out of consciousness, her earpiece and the drones silent. Finally someone came in, hard footsteps rousing her once more. She listened as the person walked up and squatted behind her, facing the control board.
“Your friend claims you were retrieving a bug,” the man told her softly. “Where is it?”
Cora unclenched her fingers from the metal, sliding her arm down so he could see. She tried to turn her head to look up at him, but she was too tired.
“I see.” His voice betrayed nothing, only mild surprise. “We might be on the same side after all.”
She closed her eyes and nodded, digging up a faint smile.
“Why didn’t you just tell us?”
Damn, this one required words. “No time,” she gasped out.
“But-” The man stopped himself. “How about we talk once the medics have looked at you?”
Cora nodded again, and managed a sigh of relief. She heard the man stand up, and give the drones orders. She barely felt the closest drone send its weakest electric pulse through her; the darkness was already beckoning.
Cora opened her eyes, and was pleased to notice the pain in her chest and foot had reduced to dull throbbing, and she was lying on a bed. She was less pleased to notice she couldn’t lift her arms from the covers, as she was handcuffed to the railings. She frowned and rattled them, anger drifting up through the fog in her head.
“Just a precaution, I assure you.” The man from the console room came into her field of vision. Cora did not find his smile entirely reassuring; perhaps this was deliberate. “After all,” he continued, “my drones didn’t actually see the bug in the system. They just saw you falling with it in your hand. So forgive me if I’m a little suspicious.”
Cora moved her head with a resigned smile to indicate this was fine. Nothing she wasn’t used to. Then a thought occurred; “Where’s Dean? Is he okay?”
“He’s well, just a little dazed from the Stun. But I want to be asking you the questions, Cora. Such as how you knew about this bug when we hadn’t even detected it being put there … if it was put there.”
“I didn’t-” Cora cut herself off with a sigh, then wished she hadn’t. “Why don’t you ask Dean? He’s in much better condition than I am.” Not to mention better at avoiding questions. The man just stared at her silently, and comprehension dawned. “Ah. You’ve already asked him, and now you want to see if I spin the same ridiculous tale.”
The man smiled again, and it was definitely disconcerting. “Well?”
Cora decided to get straight to the point. “We’re not crooks, mister. We work for … well, the government, ultimately. But they like us to be discreet, so we don’t get idents.” She stopped and thought for a moment, trying to summarise the events into something that would sound plausible. Yeah, as if.
“We were keeping tabs on a dealer, and we found out he’d sold a bug to someone, we don’t know who. A bug you could plug into a system, then send a virus to remotely. He told us this morning he’d sold it a few days ago, and he knew the person was coming to get the signalling device later today. Luckily for him, there was a tracker in the bug so he could tell us it was here … actually, where are we?”
“Private section of the Amanthe Hospital.”
Cora nodded, opened her mouth, then hesitated. “Oh.” The hospital nearest to the city lock-up. She swallowed. “Anyway, we knew we didn’t have a moment to lose. By the time you believed two disreputable people enough to check your console, the virus would have downloaded and be running riot through your system. So we didn’t ask.”
“And you proceeded to demolish my security.”
“I just froze them for five minutes! I only damaged the last one cause it knocked the gun out of my hand.”
“And I’d love to know how that works, exactly, but right now I’m more interested in what your last name is.”
Oh, no. Where did that come from? “Why?”
“If I know who you are, it would be a lot easier to find out if you really do work for the government, ‘ultimately’. So tell me.”
Cora glared at him. “I don’t have one. And even if I did, it wouldn’t help you find anything. I told you, the government wants to keep our connection discreet; you’re not going to find us on some file, no matter how much clearance your money gives you.”
“So when I type ‘Cora’ into the database, the only related file that comes up without the wrong girl’s picture attached is that of Captain Rookwell. Would you care to explain that?”
Cora’s eyes widened at the name, and she tried to cover up with a wry laugh. “Oh, the captain and me are old friends.” Her offhand gesture failed miserably; all it did was noisily remind the man that he was interrogating a prisoner. (Interrogation – she knew what that meant now. In detail.)
The man, however, merely raised his eyebrows. “A girl with no last name – a street rat, I assume – friends with the most class-conscious captain in the fleet?”
Cora grinned at this description; she’d always suspected something of the kind. “We’ve known each other a long time,” she said, sobering before he could stare the smile away. “But I wouldn’t call it a friendly relationship, no.” She stopped there, hoping he would change the damn subject.
The man gazed at her intently. “Go on.”
She shook her head, uneasy. “I can’t! He’ll kill me if I tell.”
He gripped the end of the bed and leaned over her, not angry but just cold, which frightened Cora more than any of Captain Rookwell’s hot fury had. “He’s not the one you have to worry about right now.”
Cora narrowed her eyes at him, trying to smother her fear with anger at these two men who had so much control over her life. “Alright, alright! But you have to swear not to tell anyone else.” She paused, in the faint hope he might agree, but of course he said nothing. She suppressed another sigh. “We met ten years ago, at his promotion. Do you remember that?”
The man frowned, straightening as he searched his memories. Cora could practically feel the weight of his gaze lifting off her. “Ah yes, the Rookwell promotion incident. He was humiliated on the podium by-” He drew breath sharply, head snapping around to face her.
Cora smiled faintly, too weary to produce the grin. “A street rat.”
“I see,” the man said, smugness creeping into his tone as he put the pieces together. “Didn’t he catch you a few years back?”
Cora blinked. “How did you hear about that?”
“Drones had only just been released to the public market; people always remember the first couple of chases they see, the first few times the new weapons are used. I reasoned that the most likely person to use drones on some street rat would be Captain Rookwell, after his revenge.”
Cora’s breaths came faster, a cold feeling spreading through her chest as she wrestled the memories back. When she dared glance at the man, he was looking at her hands; only then did she realise they were clenched into white-knuckled fists. She relaxed them with a wince.
“I see he got it,” the man said quietly. “So how does that lead to working for the government?”
Finally, something she wanted to talk about. “Dean saved me. Once he was finally finished, Rookwell wanted me locked up for as long as possible. The Acauldon Company was backing him, of course. But then Dean came along and pointed out that all we street rats needed was useful jobs, so then the community would benefit from more than just having us off the streets. He said he needed a nimble girl, and he’d take full responsibility for me. Once someone had talked to the judge, she agreed.”
“Someone?” the man prompted.
“Some agent, I guess. The judge left the courtroom and came back after a minute or so.” Cora gasped as inspiration hit, and lapsed back into her childhood accent for a moment. “Hey, maybe someone could come an’ talk to ya! That’d be enough proof, eh? You’d have to ask Dean, though.”
The man nodded, oh so pleasant now she was cooperating. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” He touched his earpiece and muttered something.
Cora frowned. “He’s here? You said he was okay!”
“Relax.” The man held up a hand. “I was talking to him while the medics treated you, but he wasn’t being particularly forthcoming. So I decided to bring him along with me, in case you would be more helpful.”
Cora opened her mouth to say something unwise, but was interrupted by a drone coming in through the door with Dean in tow. “Dean!” She was surprised at how relieved she felt to see her friend; how much she had come to depend on his presence, even just over an earpiece.
“Cora!” Dean jerked his arm out of the drone’s grip and ran over. “I’m so sorry, I heard you scream but I had to-”
“No, it’s fine,” Cora interrupted, trying to touch his hand. The cuff stopped the motion with a clink.
Dean looked down. “What …” He turned to face the other man. “Why have you locked her up, you bastard? She’s hardly going to hurt you like this!”
“Protocol,” the man said smoothly. “It was either that, or having a drone stand behind me. I figured Cora wouldn’t like that as much.”
Dean drew breath to say something even more foolish, but saw Cora’s hands fist in the corner of his eye. He reached down to cover one, and addressed his friend instead. “What happened?”
Cora grimaced. “I wasn’t expecting another droid, so it knocked the gun away before I could shoot. So then we grappled, and, since it was a human against a machine, it didn’t go so well. Blasted thing stood on the back of my ankle and – broke it?” She aimed the last at the man.
He nodded. “Ankle and ribs. The medics think your fibula might be cracked as well, but they’re not sure.”
Cora felt the familiar irritation at hearing a word she didn’t understand. “What?”
“Your leg might be a little broken as well.”
The street rat swore, under her breath; Dean would be proud. “Fantastic.” She looked at Dean again. “I managed to shoot it, and I was just putting my shoulder back in when you said to get a move on. I had to jump up to get the bug; it was right at the top of the cables. I think I saw it light up a few moments after I fell – that must have been the virus being sent over.”
They both looked at the man, who nodded again. “Our technicians are looking at it now.”
Dean frowned as a thought occurred to him. “Can’t you just get them to look over the security footage?”
“It doesn’t show the bug on the control board; it must be too small. They haven’t found anyone putting it in yet, either.”
Cora tugged on Dean’s hand. “He’ll believe us if you can get another agent to come in and talk to him.”
Her friend laughed. “And how do you suppose I do that? They’re not exactly at my beck and call; I can’t ring up and say ‘Hey, do you mind revealing the identity of one of the lads so he can clear up a spot of bother we’re in?’”
Cora scowled. “You can tell them they can send someone now, while only one person’s involved, or they can wait till it goes to court where a lot more people will know about it. Even if they make everything private like at my trial. Then all the crooks they want us to tail will know who we are.”
“Your logic is as compelling as ever,” Dean smiled. “But this guy’s going to have to trust me enough to let me get in contact with them without a drone playing watchdog.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” the man assured them, his disturbing smirk back in place. “My drones can tail you at a distance – and I have all the leverage I need to ensure your return.”
Both men turned to look at Cora. You’re lucky I’m tied up, she told them mentally. Or you’d both get a punch where it hurts.