Run - Chapter 41: Don't Disturb the Monkey (MF)

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Chapter 41: Don't Disturb the Monkey

"There you are... Easy, Gene..." Holly's voice was distant, as if through water, but Gene recognized it immediately. His head felt disconnected from his body, something like coming down from an acid trip. Gene's eyes refused to open, but with something of an opiate sensation rushing into his system, it didn't really bother him much at first. "Easy, Gene," Holly repeated, "give it a minute to really kick in..."

What felt disconnected was suddenly squashed together, violent motion of a thousand images became vivid inside Gene's head. He felt nauseous and retched. Hands held his shoulders. Was he still on the bed? He couldn't tell.

Images, memories, conversations, threads came together to form a narrative in his brain. Real or not, Gene wasn't sure. There was a factory and Charles Utah watching from a hill. He showed Gene and someone else diagrams and schematics. Is that Poppy? Gene had never met her, but the memory seemed too real to be false.

The schematics were blurry, chalk dust on smashed berries, nothing distinctive there. He heard a feminine voice, excited, frightened. In his mind he turned to see an olive-skinned woman gesturing wildly, features blurred but familiar. Utah responded as he always did, with calm and just a little too-much confidence in his righteousness. The woman wasn't buying it, becoming angry.

Gene stumbled and fell to his knees, at least that was the scene in his mind. On the bed, in the now, his legs twitched and he heard Holly again, but his brain was fixed on letting the scene play out.

It shifted as he lost his balance. Gene felt scrapes and bruises forming, trying to catch himself. The woman was beside him then, yelling something frantically. Gene saw Utah's feet above him on the rise, the man dashing away quickly. Hands grabbed his shirt, four or five or six, strong hands. They got the woman, too. Gene struggled but was unable to free himself. In his mind, he blacked out.

The scene shifted again. Bright lights and a small bottle on a sterile metal table next to him. He was alone. He felt claustrophobic when he realized his arms were strapped down. Gene called out, his voice muffled, but no one answered. After what seemed like an eternity, a short, stocky black-haired man strode in and leaned close to him. "This won't hurt a bit, Shay," the man said.

But Gene felt the pain as soon as the man touched him. Burning, icy pricks started at the base of his skull and became sharper the closer they got to his forehead. Were they ripping off his scalp? Gene tried to move his hands to check and again found them restrained. The pain eased off quickly, and the man said, "Now we come to it."

Gene felt his thoughts thicken. Images in his brain became vivid for a few seconds. He saw the woman who had been with him and Utah and Poppy. Tamara?! It was his wife, of that there was no doubt. But the images soon faded in the memory, growing muted and distant, soon lost completely. Gene in the now looked on as his early brain erased one detail after another, first of Tamara's presence that day on the hill overlooking the factory, then of other details. Poppy's face. He had met her in person! Then of more and more. Schematics. Conversations. Plans. The Chancellor! The man who he would later know as Victor was there in his head several times over, but each one of those memories were lost to the Gene of that time.

After countless such erasures, Gene felt thick and heavy. The man there told him, "And one final thing for you today, Shay. A key."

The prickling, tingling pain in his head retreated most of the way, a dull sensation of ice and sharpness remaining around the back of his skull. The man moved Gene's chair so that it was turned slightly to the left, more upright, Gene's feet on the floor. The man leaned forward, only two or three inches away. Gene watched his lips moving but couldn't hear the words. They seemed to be repeated, each cycle starting with a pop Gene could hear and feel in his head, then ending with what felt like the onset of a strong opioid washing into his body.

Over and over, the man repeated something. Slowly, so slowly, the words began to form out of muted tones.

"Du... … … on... … go... … boree..."

"Du... eh... turb... onk... uh... gol... amber..."

"Dun... ehturb... eh... monk... weh... uh... gold... amborin..."

"Don't... ehturb... the... monkee... with... uh... gold... uh... tambourine..."

"Don't disturb the monkey with the golden tambourine."

Gene in the now shot upright, eyes wide and straining. "Jesus Christ! I know how to unlock what Tamara knows!"

Holly stared at his face, as serious an expression as he'd ever seen from her.

Behind her, Gene saw Bridgewater lean over, an even look held confidently, and the man said, "Now this gets really interesting..."

- - -

"Are you sure this is the place?" Tamara asked, squirming a bit from her straining bladder. They stood outside what looked to be an abandoned bakery somewhere north of Rome, the street light with traffic, a handful of old men and a couple of women slowly moving along nearby. Hannigan was restlessly pacing in small circles, and to Tamara's eyes looked quite uncertain and uncomfortable to be so exposed.

"This is the place. She'll be here."

Tamara watched a couple of children rushed down the street and disappeared into a dilapidated building which may have once been a government office or might have served in some other official capacity. Then two old men followed them at a brisk walk. "I get a sense this isn't a place to linger, Marcus..."

Hannigan nodded, silent, his eyes scanning the hill to the north. "I know."

A high, feminine voice, hissed quietly from inside the bakery, the accent heavy of Eastern Europe, the door only an inch ajar, "Get in here!"

Tamara slid inside after Hannigan nodded to do so, the man following a step behind.

The interior of the old bakery was as dark and dreary as the storefront, dusty and dingy and smelling strongly of mildew and decay. A woman stood close by, tall and thin, cropped dark-red hair, black sunglasses covering her eyes, a black body suit making her slender frame look sleek.

"Marcus," the woman said evenly.

"Petra," Hannigan answered.

"You never did much learn," the woman said in her clipped accent, "to blend in."

"I didn't have any spiderwebs and chipped brick to add to my look," he mused sarcastically.

She chuckled darkly, then turned towards Tamara, a mild sneer in her tone, "You must be her."

"This is Tamara. She's the one they are trying to find, yes."

Petra nodded, then said, "Follow me. Quickly."

She led them out the back door and through a washed-out alley, most of the pavement riddled with holes, the dark dirt below visible most of the way. Petra walked at a brisk pace with Tamara right behind her, Hannigan bringing up the rear. She led them to a small sedan and climbed into the driver's seat. Hannigan motioned Tamara to the back and climbed into the front passenger side.

Petra pulled off slowly and turned down a dirt road not far away. Hannigan said, "Any more news of Bridgewater?"

"Some. He is in Italy. Genoa, we think."

Tamara asked, "Who is we?"

Petra laughed but didn't answer the question. "He won't be there long. No idea where he is going next, but I can get you closer to Genoa."

The windows were down and the breeze was a loud whoosh in Tamara's ears. Hannigan practically shouted, "Has anyone followed us?"

The woman shrugged, "Don't know. Probably. Nothing definitive seen yet." She caught Tamara's eyes in the rearview mirror. "There's water in the bag at your feet."

Tamara's bladder strained, "No, thanks... I'm floating back here..."

"You'll have a moment for that shortly. We're not going far."

"How are you getting us to Genoa?" Hannigan asked, "I doubt the way is clear for us to go direct right now..."

Petra guffawed, "Hardly clear that way, this is true. We're heading to Ladispoli. You're going by boat."

"I owe you another one, Petra," Hannigan muttered just loud enough for Tamara to hear.

"I hope this favor doesn't cost me a marriage like the last one did." Petra caught Tamara's eye again, a bitter grin on her face, "I expect Marcus didn't bother to tell you about me."

Tamara shook her head. "Nothing, really."

Petra chuckled without mirth, "Just like Marcus. He seems to want to forget that he was once married to me..."

- - -

"We have to do this fast and orderly," Henderson told them. Finch was a bundle of nerves as they sat in the ugly white van, the ragged, torn seats catching his pants and poking sharp plastic points into his thighs and butt. "We're being watched, I'm sure, but Bridgewater wants it to happen right now... Now or never, it seems."

"Dad's there?" Lauren asked from the seat in front of Finch.

"Last I heard, yes."

The van lunged forward at a speed a touch too fast for the narrow, winding street which slid down from the large set of hills to the north. Finch could feel his stomach turning over, both in anticipation of seeing his father again, and from the way Henderson seemed to relish trying to see if the van could turn a corner on two wheels.

"Can you believe it?" Finch asked his brother beside him, "Dad!"

"I know!" Logan replied. "I never thought we'd see him again."

"Me either..."

Logan leaned closer, grinning, "Think Lauren is really going to sleep with him?"

Finch smiled, "Probably..."

Logan laughed, "Yeah, probably..."

"I heard that," their sister hissed as she leaned back over the seat ahead, "keep your voices down!"

Finch nodded, chastised, but couldn't help sharing a smile with his brother. He knew that, right that second, Lauren was probably playing out fantasies in her head, and her lovely little pussy was growing wet thinking that their father might want to get into her panties like Finch and Logan already had.

- - -

"Don't disturb the monkey with the golden tambourine... Hmm..." Bridgewater leaned back from where he'd been looking at Gene over Holly's shoulder.

Anna said from beside the bed, "Is that the passphrase?"

"Unsure," Bridgewater replied. "Possibly. Or instructions. Or a red herring. Hard to say. I'll get Silver on it."

The man left the room and Gene's head felt a mix of thickness and clarity. Something had unlocked inside him, and whatever he'd just recalled seemed to have freed him from the grip of whatever had been done all those years ago by Baron Quick. Freed him momentarily, at least. "So... minover," Gene tested the word and didn't feel his head explode, "set me off, the phrase behind it, anyway... and now we've got some other rabbit hole to go down..."

"So long as there's always a new rabbit hole," Holly told him, her hand resting on his thigh as she sat beside Gene on the bed, "then we're always making progress."

"One day, we're going to fall down one with no bottom."

"Maybe... but it hasn't happened yet, Gene."

Anna moved to the door, following her father, "I'm going to see to our plans. We'll be moving before nightfall." She left the room and Holly and Gene sat quietly a moment.

"So what happened?" Gene asked, "With Bridgewater. You thought he was dead."

Holly gathered herself, absently stroking Gene's thigh. "Dad found out about Victor and Whitehead just before Armenia. Victor thought Dad was a threat, that he was working out things before Victor was ready to be outed. He'd tried to kill Dad once already, though only later was it clear that was Victor. So... to protect himself... and me, he and Anna arranged his 'death.'"

"How exactly did he think that would protect you? Wouldn't Victor have suspected your father would have possibly passed on what he learned to you?"

Holly shook her head. "Victor is arrogant. He thought I was his lackey, not Dad's. His little blonde fuck toy, I suppose. But more importantly, Dad had, without me knowing, started creating an appearance of distance between the two of us. He planted rumors about me that played favor with Victor, made it seem like I was not likely to share Dad's confidences. It was enough, it turned out, for Victor to keep me around, the chances that I might discover something of Dad's plans made me valuable... at least until Victor discovered, just before your stay at his mansion, that Dad was alive. Then he wanted me dead."

"And Anna was in on it the whole time..."

"The whole fucking time..."

"That sucks... you not knowing..."

"Suck ass, Gene... But we're past that now."

"Seems a little fast to be past that. You've only known your father was alive for a few hours. You almost killed your sister back there..."

She turned towards Gene and tilted her head. "Shit happens, Gene. You of all people should know that. They did what they did because they thought it was best. I'm not happy about it, but right now, we're all in danger. Victor is closing in, and he's not the only one. Dad said Utah is now hunting your wife."

"Fucking Utah," Gene growled. "I knew it was too easy for him to be dead. That guy is a fucking escape artist, more lives than a goddamned cat."

Holly nodded. Suddenly, she pushed Gene to his back and straddled his hips, her tight black pants stretching as she leaned down to kiss him.

"Fuck, Holly..."

"Yes, 'fuck Holly.' That's what I need right now, Gene." She began to fumble with his zipper, fishing out his cock before he could protest further.

"Right now? I thought we were in danger!"

"Haven't you learned about me yet? Haven't I taught you already? I deal with all this shit, all this fucked up shit, in two ways. One ends up with someone dead. The other ends up with you inside me. Take your pick..." Holly grinned wickedly as she stroked Gene's dick to life.

She rose over him, yanking away her pants, the smell of her body thick and pungent. Holly sat down on Gene, taking his cock into her slippery pussy. He groaned, no longer protesting as the heat inside the blonde's cunt squeezed life into him. She put her hands on his chest and started to ride him rapidly.

Holly leaned down and kissed him passionately, her pussy sliding up and down his length. She started to shudder, riding him faster, faster. "God, Gene... Fuck! I love fucking you!"

Gene wondered, only briefly, if it was her father's cock she really wanted, but it mattered not to him. On one hand, it was a pleasure in the middle of a whirlwind of strange things, something to distract him if only for a moment.

On the other, he just wanted her to hurry the fuck up.

Holly's orgasm came in strong rolls of her hips, her back arching, her head thrown back, a light moan voiced towards the ceiling, "Ohhhhhhh... Ohhhhh... Mmmmmm... mmmmmm... mmmmm..."

Gene felt her slow and grow still, his cock throbbing inside her but nowhere close to release.

"Want to cum?" she asked with a smile.

"Not right now..."

She pouted. "Spoilsport. Fine."

In one smooth motion, Holly was off his body, leaving his dick sticking straight up, creamy slickness coating his shaft. Holly ran her tongue around his cock a moment, purring as she cleaned her wetness from his flesh, then she started to tuck his erection back inside his pants. "Save it for later, then."

The door opened and Bridgewater looked in, staring briefly at where his daughter's hands were folding Gene's dick through his zipper. If it was worthy of further notice, the man said nothing. "Holly, I need your attention on something else right now. Go find Silver in the kitchen." He looked at Gene. "Come with me."

Holly grinned and finished zipping Gene's pants, then pulled her own back over her body, saying, "Don't forget about me just because your kids are coming to you..."

My kids! Gene's heart swelled at the reminder. He leapt of the bed and followed Bridgewater out the back door and into the trees.

- - -

"Just hang tight!" the giant of a man called from the front seat. Logan's right hand was digging into Panthea's thigh. He didn't recall having taken hold of the woman, but she didn't make him move his fingers as she stared out the side window with a measured expression.

The van flew around corners, up rises and down into narrow gaps between the hills. Henderson had told them just minutes before that they were cutting it close and that they were already late. For half an hour, they had been stuck in a traffic jam, of sorts, hedged in with a few dozen cars in front and back of them, fully blocking the road in both directions, a hundred or more sheep being slowly driven across the road at the bottom of the hill, hundreds more behind them.

They had needed to take a circuitous route, Henderson told them, to avoid potential watchers. Logan didn't particularly like the sound of that, and the delay in getting to their father was making him anxious.

His grip on Panthea's leg tightened and he felt her jump. She leaned towards him and whispered in his ear, "Careful... That hand's awfully close to my kitty..."

"Oh! Sorry..." He started to move his hand and she grabbed his wrist.

"Just... keep it still and unseen..."

Logan smiled, his thoughts happier for a moment. He could feel the heat from Panthea's leg and was enjoying letting the tips of his fingers dance just a bit closer to her crotch each time the van skipped over uneven pavement.

- - -

"You need to know something right now. Something no one else needs to hear. You, me, Holly, Anna. No one else. Understand?"

Gene looked at Bridgewater closely, the man's face a mask of seriousness and focus. They had walked some distance into the trees before they stopped and Bridgewater voiced his warning. "Depends on what you're about to tell me," Gene answered.

"Fair enough," Bridgewater said. "You are in danger."

"That's the big secret?" Gene scowled. "Could have told you that weeks ago..."

"Not like you think. Someone close to me is a mole. I haven't figured out who just yet, but someone in that house," he said, pointing back in the direction of the building, "is getting information about me out. It just started a couple of weeks ago."

"How do you know?"

"I have ways," the man said evenly, as if that explained everything. "Right now, I need you focused and keeping yourself protected. You can trust my daughters. Silver, Marisa, Bendal. They're all outside of this problem as far as I know. Beyond that... I can't be sure who might try to slip you something in a drink, or a knife in the guts. Keep your back to the walls at all time. Don't leave Holly's side. Don't let anyone give you food or water or anything. If you see or hear anything odd, you tell me immediately, no matter what."

"We're going to have an awful lot of conversations in that case..."

"You understand what I'm saying, yes? Someone I trust is not worthy of that trust. Someone is leaking my whereabouts, and now yours. I don't know who, and I don't know the end goal, but it is more than likely that you being dead is the desired result. It might be a subtle attempt, something colorless and tasteless in a cup of water. It might be a clip emptied from close range. I don't know. But I need you to do everything you can from this point forward to be aware of your surroundings every second. If someone takes one to many steps in your direction, I want to know about it. If it comes to it... shoot first."

"Shoot first..." Gene muttered, uneasily gripping the pistol at his side, "lovely."

"I'm serious, Gene. Without you, unlocking your wife might be impossible."

"You already have the monkey phrase, seems like I'm expendable..."

"Don't believe everything at face value. We don't know yet what your monkey means. There might be something more we need from you. Don't you dare risk that for anything. Even once your kids are here, you put yourself first."

"Fuck that," Gene growled. "My kids come first."

Bridgewater grabbed Gene's shirt at the neckline in a tight fist, yanking him forwards to just a couple of inches from the man's face. "Don't think this won't end with your kids dead, too. Victor and Utah and whoever else is out there, they don't know what you know, they don't know what your wife knows, and they damned sure can't be certain that your children aren't somehow part of things. If you're dead, we're stuck. If you're dead, you better believe they'll take out your kids, too, just to be sure. With you alive, they still might be taken as bait and left unharmed."

"Is that supposed to reassure me?" Gene yelled.

Bridgewater released him and held a finger to his lips. "What I mean is the only way we get out this mess is to ensure you stay alive. If you have to choose between protecting your kids or yourself, you choose yourself. I'll do everything I can to keep them safe, but if I have that choice to make, I'm getting you out of the situation immediately. Your kids have done well to fend for themselves for weeks. They'll be fine so long as you are safe."

Gene growled again, but Bridgewater turned and motioned him to follow back towards the building. Fucking prick, Gene thought, like hell I'm going to lose my kids again...

- - -

"He said to wait in the van," Juliana told them from the front seat, "and so we will wait."

Lauren's youngest brother whined, "But I need to pee!"

"Hold it... or get Panthea to hold it for you if you must... But don't you dare get out of this van and don't you dare let my husband see you two..."

Lauren looked back over her shoulder. Logan's hand was almost on top of Panthea's crotch, his hips shuffling, a strained look on his face. Lauren shook her head, her own bladder starting to complain. She looked forward again, hoping to catch sight of Henderson.

They'd stopped behind a row of townhouses somewhere on the far side of Genoa. The van was idling, windows closed, and Lauren could smell the hours of too many unwashed bodies crammed inside. Hannah was beside her, talking quietly with her twin brother, the heat of the brunette's body against Lauren not unpleasant, but also not helping her keep calm and stop sweating.

She heard Logan giggle and turned back to see that Panthea had snaked a hand into her brother's pants and appeared to be grasping his little penis with her fist. Lauren heard her say, "Don't you dare pee on me..."

Logan laughed and said, "I'm trying... I need to go!"

"We all do, Logan," Lauren said with a scowl, "just hold it."

Moments later, Henderson rushed up and popped his head in the driver's side door, turning off the ignition and pocketing the keys before saying, "Come on! At a run, if you will!"

Lauren leapt from the van and hustled behind the towering man as his long strides set a pace which was hard to match. They ran through more townhouse rows then up a small rise, rounding the crest and going up halfway before turning left and jogging along a rough path beaten into the low green grass by decades of livestock.

A man and woman appeared from beside an old house and rushed up. "Inside!" the woman hissed.

Lauren followed with the rest of them into the building. Inside, several tough looking men and women were gathered, talking loudly in groups of three or four. Finch ran into her when she stopped within the entrance. "Hey!" she called over her shoulder.

"Sorry. Move out of the way!" Finch shot back.

Lauren went to the side of the closest room. Conversation died quickly. Then the woman who had met them said, "They're here. Tell Chief. We need to move soon."

Lauren could feel her heart racing. Was her father somewhere here? Was this just a stopping point on the way to him? She didn't see him anywhere in the room.

"You all just gather over there," Henderson said quietly to those who had just arrived, "I'll find Bridgewater. Just wait there."

Lauren's stomach turned over, her legs shaking, her bladder forgotten a moment.

Logan called out to Henderson a second later, "But I need to pee!"

"Come on, kid," a tall black man said as he stepped closer, "hurry up."

Logan dashed off behind the man down a narrow hallway and disappeared. Lauren told the others, "I need to go, too," then followed her brother.

She saw him slide into the bathroom as the tall black man turned back and headed towards the living room. The door was closed and she knocked, "Coming in, Logan."

Lauren opened the door just as her brother let his piss fly, splashing urine all over the seat. "Jesus Christ, Logan! At least you could have put the seat up!"

She closed the door behind her. Logan was panting, "Couldn't wait."

She watched a moment, squirming suddenly. Her brother's cock was half-hard, his stream tight and urgent. It made her mind flash to the times she'd taken Logan inside her, the moments he'd cum in her mouth. She didn't know why it turned her on to have sex with her brothers, but it did. She couldn't even help growing aroused as he shook the last of his pee from his dick and then stroked it a couple of times out of habit.

"Move over," she demanded, pushing her brother aside. Lauren hovered over the toilet, Logan's cock right in front of her face as he delayed returning it to his pants. "Put that away," she told him as her urine rushed out, "there's no time for that..."

Logan grinned but did as she said.

Relief flooded through her as her bladder emptied. She could see Logan's little penis bulging against the front of his pants. Her mind shifted suddenly, remembering seeing her father fucking her mother, the cum on the bed, the arousing flavor of her dad's semen and her mother's ass when she'd tasted it. She shuddered, unaware that she was touching herself as her flow dwindled.

"Hey, no fair," Logan told her, "you told me I couldn't play with mine..."

Lauren looked down to see her fingers circling her erect clit, dark hairs tickling her palm. "Sorry..."

"Perv!" Logan laughed.

"You should know!"

He just laughed harder.

She wiped quickly and pulled up her pants.

"Hey, you two!" Henderson's voice called from outside, "someone here really wants to see you!"

Lauren beat Logan to the door, yanking it open.

Her father's arms wrapped around her before it could registered that he was there. "Oh, Dad!" Relief washed over her more strongly this time, and for whatever reason, it made her eyes begin to water.

- - -

Tamara shook the last of her urine out, wishing for the thousandth time over the weeks that she had some tissue. She righted her panties and pants, then moved back around to the front of the small shed-like building near the ramshackle home along the waterfront.

"Done?" Petra asked without looking up from a small tablet computer.

"Yes," Tamara replied.

"Let's go."

The woman led the way down a rough path and onto a dock which looked to Tamara like it was almost certain to fall into the sea within minutes. At the end of the wooden platform, a modest vee-hulled boat sat facing out towards the expansive Tyrrhenian Sea. Petra ushered them onto the deck then retrieved the ropes attached to cleats on the dock. Within moments, the boat was roaring off to the west and north.

"Bit of a change of plans," she yelled back from the console.

"What?" Hannigan replied.

"Can't get to Genoa directly by boat, not in this thing, which was the best I can do by the way, don't give me that look, Marcus... But I have a plane waiting in Bastia, Corsica. Should be a friendly. We'll know soon enough."

"That doesn't sound all that encouraging," Tamara groaned.

"Best I could do," Petra called back, "and don't you go giving me no looks, either. Marcus is bad enough..."

Tamara slumped down on the cushioned seat and Hannigan sat beside her. He said, "We'll get to them. Just be patient."

"I'm trying," she muttered, "but it's hard to be patient when there are no straight lines between points A and B. Everything we do has to double back, go around, detour. One day, I swear to God I'm going to go to Australia, rent a car, and just drive straight for a few hundred miles, just to prove it can be done."

Hannigan chuckled, "That might be fun, so long as we can stop along the way to, uh... enjoy the view..."

Tamara raised her eyebrows, "We?"

He shrugged, "You know what I mean..."

It seemed clear that Hannigan was not the only one who had come to know more than companionship on their crazy journey. Tamara wondered how much that might make things difficult once she finally found her husband.

- - -

Gene squeezed his daughter as tightly as he ever had. She was shivering lightly and began to sob against him. "Dad!" she repeated.

"I've missed you so much! And Logan!" He held an arm out and his youngest son joined the hug. "I'm so glad to see you both... It has been so long!"

He felt Finch behind him and the older boy slid into the tight circle. Gene was overwhelmed with relief to finally have his children with him again. So many times he was sure they were lost, or hurt, or dead. So many time he feared he'd never see them again. It felt very surreal.

He'd hugged Finch when he first came back from his conversation with Bridgewater, then found his daughter and youngest child coming out of the bathroom. Gene noted that it was odd the Lauren and Logan had gone to the bathroom together, but he figured the last few weeks had broken down a lot of old barriers.

"Hate to break up the family reunion," Holly said from behind him, "but we're mobile in five. You four are with me and Marisa. Hurry along."

Gene reluctantly let go of his children and turned. The young blonde had a big smile on her face. Gene's surely matched it.

"Happy for you, Gene. Really happy. There will be time for happy later, though," Holly tossed her hair around her shoulders, raised her rifle slightly, and pursed her lips into a devious grin, eyes narrowing. "Come on, now. I'm sure you're all used to what comes next. Time to run!"