The Fall of the City of Steel

The Defector

"Who are you?" Acridoidea demanded, stepping up to the tied young man.

"You can understand me?" he gasped. "How in the world can you understand me?"

"Tell us, you scum," Acridoidea persisted. "How do we save her?"

"Untie me and I'll show you," he offered.

"Tell us and I won't kill you," Acridoidea growled, drawing a tomahawk.

"Okay," he consented. "You need to use the telephone on that desk to call in a medic. They'll send him without verification if you let me do the talking."

"How do we know you won't call in reinforcements?" Acridoidea second-guessed.

A few gunshots sounded outside.

"Hurry up, Acridoidea!" Struthionidae prodded, leaving Buthoidea to stand by the door.

While no one watched, Muroidea swapped her empty crossbow for Buthoidea's loaded one.

"If I say anything not to the effect of saving your friend, shoot me," the young man permitted, as if giving an order.

Acridoidea debated this for a split second, until a bullet struck the door, digging a rough hole all the way through and spewing wooden shards inward.

"Muroidea, guard Buthoidea," Struthionidae ordered, assuming command as she dragged the wounded one away from the door.

"And do what?" Muroidea asked.

"Just talk to her!" Struthionidae clarified, pressing herself flat against the wall adjacent to the door, ax at the ready.

Back at the bound young man, Acridoidea made her decision, tearing the telephone stand down from the desk and pressing the receiver to the prisoner's ear.

"You fool!" he reprimanded, "you pulled out the plug! Just untie me and let me dial the number! If you waste any more time, she's going to die!"

Without a word, Acridoidea leaned the man forward, slashed the bonds around his wrists and handed him the receiver, then scampered over to the plug and replaced it in the power strip that sat beneath the desk.

"Thank you," the prisoner quipped, before inputting the appropriate number into the phone's rotary dial, then pressing the receiver to his ear.

Acridoidea stepped back, drew her bow, loaded it, then pulled back the string, aiming at the prisoner's stomach. Her arrow strained against her firm arm, eager to impale him.

"Come on..." he prodded, with new haste.

Finally, an answer came over the phone, and the prisoner's face lit up.

"Yes," he answered, glancing warily up at Acridoidea. "No, this isn't Halsey. He's been..."

Suddenly, the prisoner had an idea.

"Halsey has been injured. I need a paramedic team in here now. No, it was just an accident."

A few more bullets pounded through the door.

"No it wasn't. No, I... it's complicated. Just hurry, will you? He's got minutes to live if you don't come!"

A look of desperate frustration crossed his face.

"Just send over a medic team or I'll have your head!" he barked.

After hearing the reply, he slammed down the phone onto the receiver.

"There," he concluded, through an exasperated huff. "They're coming. Now will you please stop pointing that at me?"

Slowly and suspiciously, Acridoidea let down her bow and gave the prisoner an inquisitive look. "Why are you on our side?" she asked, pretending to be fully convinced.