Marcus tracks the path of the footsteps as they rattle over the ceiling panels. Laying a hand on his shoulder, Lux breathes near his ear. "Go. Go!"
Cursing, Marcus breaks back towards the entrance to the hospital. All eyes are on him, though he barely notices. His mind is focussing in on what he needs to do.
The door groans open. Again it needs a shove but Marcus is ready and pushes through, into the dusty street, just about remembering to pull his rebreather back on. He spins around to scan the upper floor.
Hecate's star, Mintaka, burns bright in the sky at this time of day, and some of the scrap up on that floor is new, dazzling. Marcus squints, ducks, blinks the brightness away - and catches sight of a flash of green cloth through an open window, just turning away.
Well, at least there's no shooting yet, Marcus thinks, eyeing the window warily. He can probably make it through that way. Getting in via a second storey is pretty basic pirate work, and he's been a long time in the Ebon Wrights.
He steps rapidly toward the rough scrap wall, picking out handholds ready to take them, then pushes up into a jump, scrambling for the window.
Those years of less-than-honourable work aren't so far away from his muscle memory. Breathing hard, Marcus clatters through the window, revolver in hand. Damn, but I shouldn't've left my shotgun on the ship, he's thinking. Nah, he couldn't have forseen this and wandering a town tooled up isn't a good way to arrive at a place like this. They're likely jumpy.
Focus. There's a twinge in his wrist as he pulls himself to his feet. Shouldn't have been so eager to pull my sidearm, he thinks, shaking out his hand from where he caught it on the window going through. No time.
He pushes after the retreating footsteps. This floor looks empty, unfinished. There are broad gaps in the roof. He'll need to have a word with Lux about security. The floor underfoot isn't much better, all rattles and clanks as he carefully rounds the next corner at a jog.
Looks like crunch time. This room ends in what looks like an open drop, maybe thirty feet away. That damn sun blinds him again briefly before he spots the back of his quarry. A split second to decide.
What does the person look like?
How are they reacting?
Are they armed?
Indifferent - interpret as continuing to flee
[Ask the Oracle: No, not armed]
There's no time for this."Stop, or I'll shoot" Marcus calls out, raising his pistol while all but skidding to a halt.
The fleeing figure stumbles, hastily checking their flight, close to the edge of the building. Slowly they raise their hands and turn around.
Marcus sees it's a man in maybe his fifties, his face crossed with scars and making it hard to be sure Marcus has judged the age correctly. He's in green fatigues and carrying a few tools at his belt, including - Marcus grunts in surprise - a pair of handcuffs.
Pistol carefully trained, Marcus advances a few steps. "Who are you?" he asks.
The man's voice is rough even behind his rebreather, like one who has smoked for too long, or breathed too much of this planet's unfiltered atmosphere.
"Callsign's Lancer," he says. "I'm a bounty hunter."
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