ʜᴇʀᴍᴇs - the fast and the furious

X-IV

Hermes directed them through the back alleys of London to an older area. It was beautiful, the masonry blackened with age and dotted with various plants. Townhouses lined the street and the train ran over tunnels and garages below. The peaceful surroundings didn't quite match their stress level, however.

"Bowie tagged us." Ramsey muttered guiltily. "The agency is on our tail. We need to find gear and get to the rendezvous as soon as possible."

"We might find something here." Hermes said quietly, counting the doors as she led them down a set of stairs and into a tunnelled hall. They walked to the end, a single door awaiting them on the left. "It's this one."

"E," Han murmured. "I need to talk to him."

"Of course." She replied, rubbing his back. 

"No, no, no. This is a bad idea." Tej protested. 

"You don't have to, Han." Hermes added. He shook his head.

"I do." He insisted. Nodding, she stood aside with the others as Han knocked on the heavy wooden door. It swung open, a beat of silence splitting the air. "I got something to talk to you about." Han said by way of greeting.

"The only reason a dead guy shows up at my door: revenge." The low, heavy accent states. Han reached into his jacket to his stash of snacks, but he was yanked into the apartment, the door slamming shut behind him and the lock clicking.

"Shit." Hermes huffed. The others stood dumbfounded with wide eyes. "Stay here." She instructed. Ramsey pulled out her laptop to start scrambling the passkey lock. Hermes bolted down the hall to the stairs, climbing two at a time. 

Han grunted as he pushed himself up from the floor, frowning at the spilled food crunching beneath his feet. He could hear the others yelling from the other side of the door.

"Should have stayed dead." Deckard Shaw muttered as he peeled off a pair of black boxing gloves. Han scowled at the empty bag of Cheetos. "I don't like repeating myself."

"You ruined my snacks." Han remarked. Shaw replied by swinging at him. The fluorescent lights illuminated the room like a boxing ring as they threw punches back and forth. Han wasn't searching for a fight. He knew Hermes and Deckard had made peace between them, but it seemed Shaw had a few past experiences that influenced his expectations. Han shoved him away once he was close enough. "Relax. I don't want to fight you."

"Then this is going to end quick." Deckard replied. He lunged at him again, sweeping his leg across and kicking Han into the punching bag swinging in the center of the room. Han startled at the pained cries that emitted from the punching bag, recoiling. Unphased, Shaw swung at him again. Han ducked, putting his hands out as he took a few steps back.

Hermes rounded the building, looking for any windows. There was a skylight and a set of windows at the back. She kicked it in, glass shattering across the concrete floor inside. She climbed in, finding Han and Deckard staring at her in mild surprise.

"Hermes." Deckard stated, his shock evident in his voice.

"Jesus. Can't you be in the same room together?" She huffed, looking at both of them sternly. Shaw's expression softened, a flash of guilt in his eyes. He glanced between them, frowning.

"What's wrong?" He asked, already discerning they had a problem. Why else would they show up on his doorstep? Han opened his mouth to explain, but was promptly interrupted by an armoured truck breaking through the garage door like it was made of tissue paper. It struck the punching bag, landing on the floor with a loud thud and a yelp. Han ducked over Hermes as debris flew, agents in SWAT uniforms flooding the room.