Desh was closing the distance between the girl, but more immediately, the men chasing her. She was the new assignment, extract, reasons classified. The same old shit, damsels in distress. His heavy footfalls were muted with a power freakish in nature, the goons had no reason to notice death charging down upon them.
Squeals of shock where muffled by a brutal, strong grip and became silent forever as that same grip twisted. The first goon to drop was the furthest back, the other two ran on, unaware.
He reduced speed so abruptly that he slid several feet before coming to a stop. He holstered the Knife and listened, using the abilities that gained him his current employment.
Desh could hear her heart beating, she'd stopped running, eyes of orange locked with hers briefly as she leaned out of cover.
"Carter Harlette" He yelled, voice strangely accented, authoritative, bored and arrogant "You're coming with me, alive... which is a damn sight better that what these 'people' wanted to do to you"
"I'll not take the bullshit which I assume you are at this moment considering. You are coming with me, that much is non-negotiable. What is negotiable is the state in which you arrive; conscious or unconscious"
"You really think I'll let you take little old me?" She stepped out of the shadows, smirking &gripping her knife, before walking over to him. Only a few inches shorter than him, Carter looked as if she was an absolutely normal girl on the outside. "We'll see." She said in a snarky tone
Desh knew she'd be difficult. He'd read her file, and it was lousy with violence, death and danger. She was an arrogant, lethal killer and his dislike for her grew with her every step.
"I didn't think for one solitary second that you'd come quietly, girly. Your case file made it very apparent that you would be a bitch about it, and here you are" His mouth contorted into a look of disdain "...Being a bitch about it" His orange eyes never left hers.
Carter smirked. "Is that right?" She sauntered around him, arms folded. "Sucks to be you then, because I won't be going anywhere but my house or the bedroom." She chuckled, stopping and lifting his chin with her finger.
Desh was serious when he said he'd not take her bullshit. He spun a fraction of a moment after the warmth of her finger touched his chin, releasing not his knife, but instead the baton holstered on his left hip and ending the quick, violent spin with that length of dull black metal impacting where he predicted her solar plexus should be, hopefully robbing her of air long enough for him to shoot her full of sedatives.
The files the agency had on Carter described her abilities, but they did no justice to her reaction speed. The girl was lightening. Desh didn't fold her in half, he simply hit space where she used to be. He was mildly pissed, but unrelenting. His post-human hearing located her next position by the faint changes in air pressure as she reappeared. Desh arrived about the same time she'd opened her mouth, his metal baton slashing out towards her right temple.
He walked slowly, deliberately towards her, a syringe filled with clear liquid held delicately in one hand.
"Don't look at me like that, girly. You made your choice"
Desh was so focused on that dangerous, beautiful killer that he'd failed to sense the mass of heavily armed goons that had quietly surrounded their position. The grenade, rolling to stop mere feet away, he'd noticed only by chance, its use advertising these peoples position on taking prisoners. He flung the syringe and dived on top of the girl second before the blast.
The shrapnel simply disintegrated as it passed through the hyper-sonic vibration emitted by his body, some still got through, one piece tearing a large gash across his back.
He hadn't meant to jab her, it must have slipped in when he'd shielded her from the blast. It was tight spot, made worse by the useless, comatose body lying at his feet.
"Fuck, fuck!... Your painful even when your asleep!" He shouted pointlessly at her.
It was up to him then. He hefted her over his shoulder like a sack of flour, his one free hand coiled around the grip of a pistol and he ran as the world came apart in a storm a bullets and fire. These people really wanted her dead. He located enemies using echolocation rather than sight, shooting men dead without so much as looking at them, spending most of his energy shielding the girl, his objective.
A bullet grazed his thigh and almost put him on his ass, but somehow he managed to stumble on. Desh finally reached his black SUV and none too gently threw Carter onto the backseat. He grasped frantically for the handle and was slammed against the driverside door from impact of a bullet ripping through his right shoulder.
Desh made it in, engine raging into life as he sped towards the ocher of a setting sun, but no safety. With one hand he found in his medical kit a shot of adrenaline and jabbed it into Carters thigh.
"Wake the fuck up Carter! Grab a gun, you shoot I drive or we're both incredibly fucked! the entire city seems to be armed, pissed and right behind us. WAKE UP!"