Lockdown - 43 by Alexander Shaw

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SUMMARY: More violence, more combat. Whay hey. Here's a question for fans, who is you favourite character in the story so far? If you want to answer, put it in a comment.

Chapter 43 Level 8-171 Corridor 874.

--/Day 15 12:09 Hours/--
--/Level 7-170 Rental Workspace G/--

Torn heard the knock on the shutters at the same time as everybody else, but he was upstairs in the apartment. He was getting paranoid, he told himself. It stood to reason that Sorrell would be after his friends, he had already thought of, and probably after him as well. That damned psychic that he kept on a leash would know everything about them by now. Torn ringed at the thought. He didn't want his past used against him. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

He sat up from his bed and grabbed his Mugaichek, slipping into its hip mounted sheath. He poked his head out of the door and saw that there was nobody in the kitchen that served as the apartment's communal space. Then he heard voices from downstairs, voices and the sound of a lot of heavily laden trolleys being wheeled into the workspace below him. Intrigued rather than nervous, he stepped out into the kitchen and moved to the top of the stairs.

"... put that over there, thanks man. Here, here, I'll take that." Davan was moving around, between carts and equipment and people that were bustling back and forth. Torn thought he recognised the face of Chris, the leader of the Gunrunners.

"We've got everything you asked for. Remember what it is that you owe us for this." Chris was saying to Davan, who turned away from his directing of actions. Grissom, nearby, was hefting a large piece of what looked like an industrial lathe.

"I remember. You'll get it." Davan said.

"Good, because just between you and me," Chris said, leaning in closer, "there's a chance you might not be breathing much longer." Torn's eyes widened.

"That a threat, Chris?" Davan replied, looking the gun dealer in the eye. "Because I don't take to well to threats." Chris shook his head, smiling widely.

"Those of us in the know, well, we know what happened yesterday, the whole busting out of a jail that no one's ever gotten out of before. One day you'll have to tell me how you did that, but never mind. The thing is that Sorrell takes that kinda personal, and his favourite way of saying something personal back is to put a price on your collective heads." Chris said. Torn felt his stomach tightening. He crouched down so that he might not be noticed.

"My people can look after themselves." Davan countered.

"I'm sure they can there, light-smith." Torn saw Davan flinch at the mention of that title. "But you've got to remember that Sorrell's got a damned long arm and he really isn't afraid to use it. Be wary. Don't want you dead before your debts are settled, now do we." Chris patted Davan on the shoulder and then turned away to help his crew of amateur removal men. Torn, his head cocked, could see Davan visibly slump his shoulders.

--/+6 hours 27 minutes/--
--/Level 7-170 Rental Workspace G/--

Davan brought down two six packs of cold Space Dust. He smiled at his three companions, all of whom were sweating freely, not wearing shirts any more and visibly panting.

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