Watching the machine gun turret slowly turn towards them, Ben was in a quandary of exactly how to make it to their destination without being shredded to pieces, when Sky grabbed his arm. Bullets ricocheted around them, and there didn't appear to be a clear path, even if they continued to ziz-zag. Then he noted their one opportunity, however, Sky had beaten him to it, and before he could open his mouth, she'd already commenced to drag them towards the opened doors of the elevator; a slug furrowing his scalp as the metal doors closed behind them. "Fuck, that was a little." Weapon in hand, he urged the car to move faster, and checked himself in the mirrored rear wall patted down his newly-parted hair, and forced a smile when he turned to face Schuyler. "Hair-raising."
The joke intended to calm the woman before they exited on the top floor, and were once more in the midst of a war zone, the Spy swiftly realised it hadn't really been required. Sky seemed to be even more composed than he was, and a quick-thinker to boot. Nodding as she spoke, and keeping one eye on the floor numbers flashing past on the LED display, his full attention was soon drawn to her. 'What the fuck?" Shaking his head, the man's eyes followed her movements, even at a time like this, lingering on the revealed cleavage a moment longer than was totally appropriate, before he refocused on her face, and gripped Schuyler's shoulder. "Are you kidding me?"
His expression changed when the elevator bell dinged; it wasn't like he had a better plan. "What the hell, it just might work." Hardly able to believe he'd said that, the doors opened, leaving him no chance to regret it before he jumped out, and called back over his shoulder. "You better not die when I'm just beginning to like you. And don't forget those valuable assets now belong to the United Kingdom."
Rushing forward, Ben missed Sky's shedding of her trench-coat, but not the group of rebels eyes widening, and pupils opening in shock, and some other, more lustful expression, as he allowed his legs to buckle under him. The MI6 agent's ass ass hit the floor, and forward momentum drove his feet into the knees of two men, sending them tumbling like bowling pins. Once through, and clear on the other side, he backflipped to his feet, and left Sky to deal with the rest.
"Shit." Spotting the barrel of a gun aimed directly at his head, the Spy immediately hit the floor again, this time initiating a forward triple-somersault, and a slug whizzed in the air where Ben's brain would have been, simultaneously as he slammed his head into the man's stomach, eliciting a surprised groan, and sent him catapulting over the railing. A scream following all the way behind him, until it abruptly stopped when his body impacted the ground floor with enough force to break every bone. However, the spy didn't pause to witness the landing.
Instead, as the man fell, he'd slipped the knife from the scabbard on his belt, turned, twisted, and hurled it end over end, impaling the heart of the ninja who stood on the skids of the helicopter. The Russian's death throes caused his finger to jam on the trigger of his weapon, and shoot a hail of bullets into the air, before he fell forward, and hung upside down off the skids, suspended by one foot. He was the last, and with the path cleared, Ben's instinctual reaction was to stop and assist Sky behind him, but as he turned to do so, the Helicopter pilot, obviously aware of their intent, began to lift the aircraft towards the roof line. Five or ten seconds and it'd be out of his reach, so she'd need be left to her own devices.
Certain, at least, that Schuyler remained alive, by the banter he heard, he could only think,
"at least they didn't call her a hooker", before sprinting towards the chopper. No gymnastics on this occasion. As soon as he gained leverage, Ben clambered up, avoiding the boot that attempted to stomp his fingers, hooked the man's ankle with one arm, and dumped him on his ass, then entered the cockpit, and planted a bullet in his head. At that precise moment an explosion ripped through the air.
His heart sunk, and Ben was consumed with a sense of failure, as his gaze searched for what remained of Schuyler Lassiter. Flames and amputated limbs shot out from a cloud of smoke, and he consoled himself with the fact that at least she'd gone painlessly, and taken a few with her. Then, a female voice split the air, screaming his name, and a huge smile broke out on his face. He should have known she wouldn't have gone that easily. However, his pleased expression swiftly dissipated when he noted her precarious location, and the throng of machine-gun wielding thugs remaining on the lower floors.
There was no way he could both retain control of the chopper and run to her aid, so he scanned the area to find a solution. "Hang on Sky, I've an idea." Ben's gaze landed on the dead Russian hanging off the skid. Acting swiftly, he removed the knife embedded in his chest, sliced at the man's clothing, then kicked him over the edge, met Sky's eyes, and tossed the
leather harness, attached to a thick nylon rope, he'd been wearing, in her direction, expertly landing it two inches away. "Clamber into that," he screamed over the cacophonous noise of the rotors, and glanced over his shoulder. "And hurry." Two dark specks had appeared on the horizon, headed towards them.
All Ben could hope as he ensured his end of the rope was securely fastened to the frame of the chopper, then dropped into the pilot's chair, placed his hand on the throttle, and began to raise the aircraft higher, in order to facilitate their escape before further company arrived, was that Sky's dance training incorporated climbing practice. Or she'd be left dangling in the air, like a worm at the end of a fisherman's hook, until he could dare stop to assist. At least the two disparate groups of assailants were now apparently too occupied shooting at each other that it appeared they'd momentarily forgotten their real quarry. Fucking amateurs!
