OP Absorption
Chapter 84: Run

Chapter 84: Run

Meg slumped back against the seat, the effort leaving her trembling, the sharp tang of blood thick in her mouth. The world swam slightly, a nauseating mix of pain and the car’s smooth motion.

Okay, signal sent. Maybe. Assuming the cheap thing even worked after all this time, assuming Fin wasn’t halfway across the country, assuming he could even do anything against these professional thugs and whatever Association hellhole they were dragging her towards.

Assuming a lot. But it was done. Now what?

She couldn’t just sit here and wait for whatever horror awaited her at the end of this ride. Stalling them, that was the only way, she needed a distraction, something to slow them down, buy Fin time... if he was even coming.

Her eyes darted around the sterile interior, landing on the impassive face of the suit beside her. An idea sparked, stupid and desperate, but maybe, just maybe...

"Hey," she mumbled, her voice thick and distorted by her swollen jaw. "I... I gotta pee."

The suit didn’t even blink. Silence.

"Seriously," she insisted, shifting uncomfortably, though every movement sent jolts of pain through her. "Like, really bad. You guys hit me pretty hard, kinda knocked things loose, you know?" She tried for a weak, pathetic tone. "You don’t want me making a mess back here, do you? This car looks expensive."

The suit in the passenger seat glanced back, his expression utterly devoid of sympathy. "Be quiet."

"But I really have to go!" She whined, injecting a note of rising panic into her voice. "It’s like, emergency level! Please? Just pull over for two seconds? What’s the harm?" She kept pressing, feeling a surge of desperate recklessness. "Or maybe you guys like watching girls pee themselves? Is that a hunter perk I didn’t read about?"

That got a reaction. The suit beside her finally turned his head, his cold eyes narrowing slightly. He muttered something low into a comm unit hidden in his collar. A moment later, the driver grunted an affirmative.

The car smoothly decelerated, pulling off the main highway onto a deserted access road that ran alongside a dilapidated industrial park. They rolled to a stop behind a crumbling brick warehouse, its windows boarded up, the area deserted under the fading light.

One of the suits opened her door, grabbing her arm roughly and hauling her out. The sudden movement sent agony through her head, and she nearly blacked out again.

He half-dragged her behind the building, the other suit following closely. They stopped near a patch of overgrown weeds and cracked pavement. The first suit pushed her forward slightly. "Quickly."

He stood there, arms crossed, watching her. Meg glared back, clutching the front of her trousers, trying to ignore the throbbing pain and the humiliation. "What?" she snapped, her voice raspy. "Want to watch or something?"

He stared at her for a long, unnerving moment, his face unreadable, then, seemingly deciding she wasn’t worth the effort, turned his back, taking a few steps away to give her a modicum of privacy, though his partner remained vigilant nearby.

It was the opening she needed. The second his back was turned, she forgot about peeing, forgot about the pain, forgot everything except escape. She spun and bolted, adrenaline flooding her system, driving her legs faster than she thought possible across the uneven ground.

She heard surprised shouts behind her, the crunch of boots on gravel giving chase instantly. They’d clearly suspected something like this.

She risked a glance back. They were closing fast, professionals built for pursuit. One raised a sleek, black sidearm—

"No!" the other one barked, batting his partner’s arm down. "Our orders are to bring her back alive." He fumbled inside his jacket, pulling out a small, black remote device.

Meg didn’t know what it was, but primal fear urged her to run faster. She pushed herself, lungs burning, ignoring the screaming agony in her face. Freedom was just ahead, the main road visible beyond the next rusted fence—

He pressed a button.

Agony, electric and absolute, ripped through her body. It wasn’t like a normal shock; it felt like every nerve ending was simultaneously ignited and short-circuited. The cuffs still dangling loosely from one wrist flared with blinding white light for an instant.

Her muscles seized uncontrollably.

She crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, hitting the cracked pavement hard, the impact jarring through her already battered body. She couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, could only twitch helplessly as waves of agonizing electricity pulsed through her, overriding every command from her brain.

Through blurry, tear-filled eyes, she saw the two suits exchange a brief nod, their earlier urgency gone, replaced by calm efficiency. They began to approach her downed form at a walk. She tried desperately to push herself up, to crawl, to do anything, but the residual electricity locking her muscles made it impossible.

Her limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. Panic clawed at her throat. This was it. Game over.

Just as the shadow of the first suit fell over her, a new voice cut through the air, clear and laced with casual amusement.

"It’s not nice to beat on girls, you know."

Meg forced her head to turn, her vision swimming. Both suits froze, looking up sharply towards the source of the voice.

Sitting nonchalantly on the rusted railing of a nearby fire escape, dangling maybe ten feet above the ground, was a woman. red clothes, striking features, and an air of dangerous calm. She was casually munching on a bright red apple, taking another crisp bite as she surveyed the scene below.

Scarlet.

The two suits reacted instantly, their professional training overriding any surprise. Hands flashed towards concealed holsters, weapons appearing with practiced speed. But they weren’t fast enough.

Not even close.

Scarlet, still perched casually on the railing, moved with blurring speed that defied human limits. One moment she was taking a bite of her apple, the next a sleek, dark handgun was in her grasp. Two sharp cracks echoed off the crumbling brick walls, almost simultaneous.

The suits cried out, not in death throes, but sharp yelps of pain. Both men stumbled backwards, dropping their weapons as they instinctively clutched at their legs. Small, dark stains bloomed on their impeccably tailored trousers, just above the knees.

Scarlet hadn’t aimed to kill, merely to incapacitate, disabling them with cruel precision. They collapsed onto the grimy pavement, groaning, unable to stand.

With the immediate threat neutralized, she tossed the apple core aside with a flick of her wrist. Then, with surprising agility, she hopped down from the fire escape railing, landing lightly on the balls of her feet.

The landing wasn’t the silent, predatory grace Meg might have expected. Instead, Scarlet almost bounced, a strange, giddy energy radiating from her.

She skipped towards the downed suits, her movements light, almost playful, completely at odds with the violence she’d just inflicted. A wide, genuine smile spread across her face, transforming her features, making her look younger, almost innocent.

"Wow!" she chirped, circling the groaning men like a curious child examining new toys. She hopped from one foot to the other, seemingly unable to contain her excitement. "It’s been so long since I felt like this!" she exclaimed, her voice bright and full of wonder. "Just me! Doing whatever I want!"

She stopped skipping and spun around in a quick circle, her arms flung wide, the dark handgun momentarily forgotten in her hand. "Not being a slave!" she declared, beaming, looking utterly delighted with herself and the situation.

Meg watched from the ground, still paralyzed by the lingering effects of the electric shock. Pain, fear, and now utter confusion warred within her. What the hell was happening? Who was this woman, and why did she seem so happy about shooting people and talking about slavery?

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