Sarah sighed, wiping her hands off on her uniform, eyeing the door, determining the best place to put her foot down.

It had taken time. Too much time.

Her door had been locked from the outside. After testing the handle, she’d heard the crackle of a radio on the other side, and the voice of the guard she passed by on the way in. If they wanted to piss her off, they’d done a fantastic job.

Nobody wanted to hear that the guard was tasked with slowing them down, including locking the door with a mechanism that was impossible to undo without proper tools. And those tools?

Her hands were empty.

She kept her set inside Fallacy, as it had other uses too, coming in handy on missions. Somehow, it hadn't crossed her mind to grab it, like she was too busy staying alive, or something.

Kicking the door down on its own was almost as impossible. But, she glanced at the screws on the floor, pieces of hinges next to them.

This was enough.

They weren’t going to stop her. Trap her in a room? To Sarah, it was laughable. And in a way, it made sense how they’d given the order to slow her down. After all, she’d been taught. Locked up and forced to figure her way out on her own. They’d told her it was training. As a kid, it felt like a puzzle, something to solve. It was a fun test.

Her eyes glared at a spot on the door as she stepped back several feet.

Taking a deep breath, she sprinted forward.

This wasn’t a test.

She jumped, swinging her feet together, slamming them into it with as much force as possible.

It wasn’t just a cool puzzle anymore.

There was a grunt of pain as the door swung outward, the locking mechanism tearing through the frame, clipping the woman as it tumbled unstably into the hallway and onto the floor.

Sarah’s hands flung back behind her head as she dropped toward the ground. Palms finding it first, she arched her back and pushed, launching herself back up onto her feet. Walking out of the room with even steps, slinging her bag strap over her head, letting it hang diagonally across her torso, she turned her gaze to the woman who was gritting her teeth, a hand to her shoulder. The woman stood, grabbing a baton from her side.

“Hm.”

It was rather unfortunate, she thought to herself as the woman dropped her hand and glared, that she wasn’t standing more in front of the door.

Air rushed around the baton as it drew an arc. Sarah ducked, throwing up a leg when it was clear, right to the hand holding it, slamming the woman’s wrist into the wall. The baton tumbled to the ground with a clack.

Without pause, the woman threw a fist into Sarah’s face, landing a hit. Face stinging from the impact, Sarah’s arm moved, her own fist flying through the air, body moving slightly to dodge the next jab aimed her way. It connected with the woman’s face, sending her stumbling back a few short steps.

Neither was one to give up so easily.

The woman made a guttural cry before throwing herself forward again. Sarah spun them around, slamming the woman’s back into a wall, her hands forcefully pushing her shoulders.

A foot slammed against her abdomen, throwing her into the opposite wall, expelling her breath from her lungs on impact. In her hand was a fistful of the woman’s uniform, torn away. Tossing it aside, she pushed off and the fight started up again.

They spun around, grappling with each other, hair being yanked harder than anything ever should, fingernails scraping skin. The woman pulled hard, Sarah barely stopping the momentum before her head hit the wall, her hair screaming in pain.

But what was pain?

Sarah’s back still ached horribly from the strike she received in Fallacy. And then again, a short moment ago.

Despite the near equal receiving and giving of hits between them, there was a certain difference deep inside. She had something that the woman didn’t. A burning desperation and desire to live, a knowing that she can’t be taken down here if she wants to survive. Only one of them was becoming a fugitive.

A mouse could always attack a cat if cornered.

And a cat fighting another cat... well, things were more even then.

Grabbing a random fistful of her opponent’s hair, she grit her teeth, pulling the woman’s head as hers had been pulled, before flattening her palm against her head and thrusting forward. Some of her hair was in the woman’s hand as she slumped down against the wall.

Breathing hard, Sarah reached up a hand and lightly removed the rest of the unattached hair from the confines of her hairband. Ignoring the tenderness on her skull, she tied it up securely again as she glanced over at the woman.

There was no nametag, no way to tell who exactly she was. She knew the woman was a new transfer, but that was it, until now. Her neck was exposed from where the uniform had been ripped. Two dark lines, just like hers, a symbol right in the middle.

Sarah stared at it for a long moment, despite knowing she needed to be on the move. It was hard not to, when she had the same symbol on her own body.

Warrior.

Somewhere, deep inside of her, there was a grudging respect for the woman. Even so, respect never said she couldn’t leave her behind in a heap, leaning against the wall.

She only made it to the next hallway before she came across an unwelcome sight. Making quicker work of the two arriving for backup, she continued on.

And then there was yet another roadblock.

Only, this one made her hesitate.

At the far end of the hallway, behind Sarah, lay two people, unconscious. The person in front of her glanced at them, eyes flicking back up to hers.

“Sarah…”

She couldn’t respond. It was akin to being caught between a rock and a hard place.

“I didn’t expect this, you know. I mean, you seemed normal.”

Fury rose to the surface. She’d about had it with this day, levels of patience worn dangerously thin by one thing after another. She woke up having a good day. Then, the Captain showed up late. Assassins attacked her and her group, people that understood their lifestyle. Her head hurt, her back ached, and now this? Apparently, they didn’t send out the right memo.

To get out of her way.

“Normal is a pipe dream, Ella,” Sarah said evenly, her voice ringing with certainty. “Normal doesn’t exist.”

“Speak for yourself,” came a snippy response from the one who’d quoted part of the anthem of the Ghosts to one of the members without realizing it, just a short while ago.

If she wanted to be snippy, so could Sarah.

“I usually do.”

“Urgh!”

Frustration seeped from the single utterance more like a noise than a word. Ella ran forward while Sarah remained still, adjusting silently into a better stance.

Ella, displaying some of her newly learned skills, spun just before reaching her, swinging her leg at Sarah. Taking a step back to dodge, Sarah then stepped back into range, just as Ella was readjusting her balance again, pulling an arm back.

She pulled Ella’s head down to her waiting knee, wanting this to be over as soon as possible. Ella pushed back, partially by Sarah’s hit, and equally by her own hands, shoving at her opponent. She stumbled, landing on the floor with a thud.

Scrambling to her feet, she wiped at the corner of her mouth, a red smear showing similarly on the back of her hand and across her face.

Her eyes darted around, as if looking for backup, a near panicked expression on her face. Feet moving back, Sarah noticed just a few seconds too late, as Ella turned and sprinted over to one of the many boxes located all throughout the facility. She slammed her fist through the glass, pulling on the lever as Sarah tackled her to the floor.

They both looked over as an automated voice called out five words, Sarah in horror, Ella in victory.

“Connected to loudspeakers. Say message.”

Ella screamed the words out, the echo heard in the distance as it was broadcast all through Amest, as Sarah scrambled to get a solid hold on her and cover up her mouth.

“SARAH ADELE! HALLWAY NINE! NEED BACKUP!”

Sarah yanked on her leg, pulling her closer and stopping her from standing up. Ella slammed back into the ground and started kicking. But it was already too late, as Sarah was reaching, tightening her arm over Ella’s neck, holding her in a headlock.

Ella flailed, gurgling in an attempt to make words, her nails digging into the arms holding her, up until the fight went out of her. She slumped down. Sarah let go, pushing her unconscious body off of her own and stood, expelling a breath of exasperation.

She swore under her breath and started running, yet again, paying close attention to the sound of people converging on the area. Directing her run to the south end of the building, she was planning to use the separate access door on the third hallway from the exit door. But as she reached the turn, she saw the sheer number of people turning into the hallway from the far corner, spotting her.

“There she is!”

“Get her!”

And a far too cliché word, shouted just as would be expected, “Charge!”

Sarah, having nearly skidded to a stop, pursed her lips and continued running to the south.

Change of plans.

The second hallway didn’t have an access door that led outside. However, a plan worked into her head seamlessly. There was a way. An annoying way. She sighed. After this, she wanted a good rest. And maybe a drink of water.

She shoved someone in her way, sending them sliding back twenty feet. Taking the next left, she was thankful that there were only one person rushing her way. Dodging the straight-flying fist, she slammed an open hand to their neck, turning the force toward the wall, throwing them against it. She sprinted away, as they went down, winded, a hand to their throat as they wheezed.

Headed away from footsteps following her while simultaneously running directly toward another crowd of them, she glanced up, using her foot to launch, her hands reaching for what their lectures about the buildings always called impossible.

To her, for this, if it was, it meant the end.

So, to her, it could only be improbable, but still possible.

Fifteen seconds later, as the two groups converged on the area, their findings weren’t that of Sarah, but of what she left for them to find.

A guard, struggling.

A few drops of blood on the floor.

And something creaking, several feet above their heads.

Slowly, they all took a moment to stare up at the screen for the ventilation system hanging open, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. It was a baffling sight, one that none of them had ever expected to see.

There was no sign of the Vice-Captain of the Ghosts.

Not even a whisper.

She was just…

Gone.