xornalista:

       Dominoes is what they had became. The soldiers that had been sent out to save people like herself were now becoming targets themselves, she was now wishing that she had never contacted the Pentagon or her father’s quarters. Hell was about to burst. Her hues were left picking out the armed terrorists, contemplating a possible exit before her life would be seconds away from complete non-existence. The reporter pushed herself off the floor, immediately grasping the weapons from the fallen soldiers, holding up the gun, her finger on the trigger, no one ever really knew that she was an exceptional marksman, her aim was without fault, as the masked males came into view, bullets bouncing from pipe to pipe and other kinds of machinery, a hiss of gas started to flood the air. Raising her weapon, her hues got a much better view, pulling the trigger and watching them fall, a bullet straight through the heart, not that they deserved quick deaths. Her protection had become useless but her determination to stay alive was a force that could not be overpowered. Picking a few other armed villains, watching their menacing structures collapse to the ground, she only felt more and more sick. Her stomach churning at the sight of a drop of blood. Lois only knew a few ways out and the audio of other low, husky voices shouting at each other to pursue her location amongst the gas. She decided to retreat on the opposing side of the ventilation unit, well that’s what she assumed it was. Finding a door frame with a handle, the reporter had been waiting for a chance to escape. Although soon the exits would soon run out and she’d be exposed to the brutality of the attacks. The white structure felt weak, it swayed with every passing air force, she knew that General Sam Lane would be doing everything he could to ensure the safety of his daughter. After all, his vote as Senator were quite the hot topic in politics as well as American interests. Her breath was unsteady and her heart was ready to explode, the adrenaline would soon run out, her hands trembled with each thought that clouded her brain. Making her way down the winding corridors, she was heading towards the secure base, within it was a control room that would send off a distress beacon and provide her shelter as well as the bomb that would destroy the White House and it’s occupants minus the bunker. Her heels were drowned out by the sounds bullets and bombs, the harsh reality of war had cast it’s shadow upon the United States. Lois took a moment to regain her breath, she had ran so much for one day but she had to in order to survive. Pressing herself against the cool wall, her breath was the only audible sound along that corridor until it was interrupted by the sounds of heavy boots, about five of them in pursuit. Her hues widened. The game was definitely over but she’d go with a fight. All she could do was run.

Run. They all ran. And in the end they were captured and dealt with like everyone else. Their mission was clear, casualties were something that were a given and nothing more. Eames could care less about the lives that were currently laying on the ground. His target was the president and nothing more. Anyone else was a casualty, expected by those who knew what they were aiming for. The journalist needed to be caught, though. He knew she had vital information on the location of their target. But she was stubborn, refusing to give something that would actually save her life in the end. It was fine. He was used to dealing with uncooperative hostages. The last time he ended up putting a bullet through their head. This time he just might take his time, showing the redhead just what happened when one crossed the line and angered him. That was if he caught her. Some of his men he’d given the order to chase, the others were ordered to clean up any stragglers before they moved on to the next target. He should have joined them, he should have followed suit and helped them clean up the straggles. But the journalist, the redhead – his focus was on her and only her. He wanted her to pay for what she’d done and for being the stubborn person she was. He wanted to watch her life slip from her eyes at his hands. That was the only thing that would satisfy the ire that was now bubbling underneath the surface. There was a crackling over his earpiece, his men telling him that she’d disappeared into some sort of chamber. His fists clenched in anger as he told them to go after her, that if she escaped it would be their lives on the line and not hers. That was the last he’d heard of them. Eames knew where she was going and if she made it there they were in trouble. The mission would be a failure if she made it to the bunker. Though she could lead them to their target. It was better than them running around aimlessly. He sent the order to the others, to force her hand in the hopes that she would lead them to their primary target. He also told them that while they could scare her they were not to kill her. That was for him and him alone to decide. Death was his choice to make. And he would make her beg for it before giving it to her. Another crackling over his earpiece and this time it was with good news. They’d found her. Or at least they thought they had. Again he told them not to do anything more than injure her. Maybe now she would be willing to talk. And as he made his way to her location, he hoped she’d finally seen some sort of sense instead of the continual running she was forcing his men to do.