twiceahero | (no subject)

X follows.

She understands paranoid.

It is efficient!

The elevator arrives just before the reach the doors, and Babs rolls into it, then turns in place and waits for X to join her.

It doesn't take X long. She's quick.

She also pays attention to her surroundings. Sensible precautions aside, it's always interesting.

And it keeps her busy.

"Armory," Babs announces. There are buttons, of course, but they're something of a pain to use from the chair. The elevator doors slide closed and the elevator shudders as it descends a couple of floors.

The armory is pretty similar to the command room, but instead of screens, the walls were loaded down with gadgets. Tranq guns, smoke grenades, body armor, rope, grappling gear... was that a sewing machine?

Babs believes in being prepared.

"Take what you need."

X is quick but thorough.

Several small explosives, two smoke grenades, assorted flashbangs, and something like a grappling gun.

Just to give herself more options.

"Thank you."

She's ready to go.

"There's a car waiting in the parking garage with the GPS programmed to take you to the airport. The Aerie Two is ready and waiting there. Assuming there's nothing else you need."

"You'll find ID in the glove compartment if it ends up being necessary."

Might as well get rolling, right?

X goes still for a moment, poring over her mental files to make sure there is nothing she missed.

Then she shakes her head once.

"I am prepared."

Then she heads back toward the elevator. And the parking garage.

The car is where Babs indicated it would be. On the driver's seat there is a small box that contains a comm earbud. X puts it in, checks the ID in the glove compartment, then starts the car.

It will take an effort to remember to obey the speed limit, but only a small one.

She tries to keep in practice.

"Let me know when you're on-site. Or if you have any questions between now and then."

Babs has a couple of things to check in on while X is in transit.

"I will," X says.

Then she falls silent.

The GPS is loud enough on its own.

Though X does have a moment or two when she has to figure out the best place to park at the airport.

As if Babs is reading her mind, or possibly watching the vehicle's progress using 'borrowed' NSA satellites, a voice comes in through her comm. "You can go through security. I've got a private space reserved for you near the hangars."

"Understood," X says quietly.

She turns the wheel, slowing down the vehicle so as not to draw too much attention.

At the security checkpoint she hands over the ID in the glove compartment, sitting quietly as they look it over.

"You're heading for hangar 12," Babs adds before turning back to her machines.

X is efficient in getting her vehicle to hangar 12 and the nearby parking area. Getting out of the car is also the work of a moment. Or two.

Then she moves across the tarmac toward the helicopter.

Her pace is comparatively rapid. She's got a surprisingly long stride.

There's a blond woman standing by a chopper wearing a ridiculous short skirt and a massive grin.

"You must be Miss X," she calls in amusement. Then she rolls her eyes. "The boss loves her little aliases."

"I like mine, too," X says.

Even though X is not an alias.

The Miss part, however, is.

"It is okay."

Then she slips into the helicopter like someone who has been in them very many times before.

"Not much of a talker, huh?" That's fine with Lady Blackhawk. She climbs into the pilot's seat and does enough talking for both of them. But she's also clearly an expert. Take-off is flawless and the flight is smooth.

X sits in silence for most of the flight, gaze flicking from Zinda's hands to the view out the window, and back.

She can appreciate a good pilot.

She's ridden with too many who are not.

"Here we go," Zinda finally announces, coming into a hover over a six-story parking structure. "You just yell when you're ready for my company again."

"I will," X confirms.

And then, without ceremony or preamble, she drops out of the helicopter and onto the roof of the parking garage.

She rolls as she hits the ground, largely because most normal people would.

It saves on questions.

Now, for the stairs.

Her comm crackles. "You're four blocks east of the target building. If you take Grand Street you should hit the loading docks pretty quickly. Check in when you arrive."

Funny, Babs seems to keep initiating contact without waiting for a check-in.

If X were anyone else (not one of the Birds), maybe she'd be surprised.

But she isn't.

"Understood."

Again, she says it quietly. Then she makes her way down the stairs and out onto the street. Her path to the docks is just slightly meandering, a little like someone who is out of their comfort zone and not entirely sure of their destination.

Next time she'll even have a piece of paper for verisimilitude.

Though her pace does pick up once she hits Grand Street. And a few minutes after that --

"Here."

"Everything is routine. Standing guard should be visible from your position. You have two minutes before the next foot patrol passes."

"Um. Excuse me."

X only stutters a little as she steps toward the standing guard.

"I think I'm lost. Do you know where -- "

When he's in range she takes him out.

A sharp hit to the solar plexus just as she hooks a foot around his knee makes it hard for him to cry out. A side foray into the art of pressure points means he's unconscious forty-five seconds later.

Finding the key and hauling his unconscious body through the door after her takes up the second minute.

The door is just closing behind her as the foot patrol starts passing by.

"No sign of alarm," Babs announces. "I count six men on this floor, but three of them are in the security office, two at the front desk, and one doing rounds."

X pauses for a moment, scenting the air and listening.

Babs' count is correct.

The walking man -- probably the one doing rounds -- is making his way toward X's position.

She breaks left, avoiding the front desk and passing by the door to the security office.

Still listening for movement in the office and in the corridor, she crouches down, nudging a flashbang under a nearby radiator.

It might be useful later.

She picks up her pace on the way to the stairwell, turning a corner just after the door to the security office opens.