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Though not generally a fan of violence, Artemisia had been through the same training that Jeremy put all his recruits through, having had plenty of free time in her years working with Dr. Green. And the first thing he'd drilled into all their heads was the value of flexibility and the element of surprise. She kept her eyes peeled, her mind hyperalert as they went down the hallway.

When Jeremy punched the first guard, she reacted the split second after, going for the second. They had to be quick about this, and as quiet as possible. Artemisia hit the second guard squarely in the chest, then went for his rifle, knocking the wide end into his jaw as she tried to wrest it from his grip. He staggered, caught off guard, and the rifle clattered to the floor. She took the opportunity to firmly clap her hands against his temples.

Unfortunately, being a very small woman fighting a much larger guard had its disadvantages. She only managed to daze him, not knock him out, and a lucky punch from the guard connected straight with her stomach, knocking the wind clean out of her and sending her sprawling on her back on the floor. He reached down as though to choke her, but she realized what he was doing through the haze of pain--reaching for her helmet. She rolled onto her side and snapped her legs up, kicking him in the stomach at the same time that a fist appeared from nowhere, knocking the guard in the back of the head.

He crumpled, and she looked up at Jeremy, wincing slightly. He'd obviously had no trouble taking out his guard. She wasn't in much pain, just a little winded. "Don't tell me I need more practice," she said dryly. "And thanks for bailing me out a second time." She got to her hands and knees and relieved the guard of his sidearm and the clip for his rifle before getting to her feet. "What are we going to do about these guys?"

"s**t" pretty much summed up their situation as Artemisia scanned the room, taking in what was happening in a blurry flash of panic. She was a decent shot and Jeremy was damn good at what he did, but the chances of them surviving a head-on firefight with a squad of guards weren't particularly great--

Then again, with a little ingenuity...she realized in a sudden jolt that it was her they wanted--alive. She was useless in Kolso's experiments if she was dead, otherwise they would've just killed her outright in the first place instead of caging her in that lab. A plan formed inside her head--a risky one, but certainly preferable to being gunned down...or worse, ending up back in Lab 8.

The problem was that it required Jeremy's cooperation, and placed both of them in a great deal of danger. "I've got an idea," she whispered to him. "But you'll have to play along and do exactly as I say." She grasped the handgun she'd stolen from the guard, releasing the safety. "Do you trust me?"

She squeezed his hand tightly, hoping that could convey her gratitude. The last thing she wanted was to gamble with their lives, but remaining here was certain to end in death for Jeremy...and something possibly worse than death for her. There were so many things that could go wrong, but she couldn't stop to worry about them. Every second counted as the guards got closer and closer.

"They're not going to shoot at us if there's a chance of hitting me," she said under her breath as she removed the helmet, revealing her face. She slid the gun into his hand, then carefully raised it to her own temple. "Hold my hands behind my back like you're taking me hostage, then step out of this alcove. You need to pretend you've turned on me. Walk slowly toward them. Once we get close enough, I'll start struggling, and trying to push us toward the door to the garage." The business card he'd handed to her was still in her palm. If there was any justice left in the world, she'd never have to use it.

"Jeremy!" she screamed as she felt him collapse behind her. Adrenaline pounded through her veins, and she felt herself reaching for the gun he'd dropped as she knelt next to him, just feet away from the door to the garage.

She couldn't just leave him there and run--she couldn't. She pointed the gun at the guards and shot rapid-fire. The first two went wide as the guards scattered to the sides, but the third ricocheted and hit the ceiling lights, showering the guards with glass. The fourth hit the now-exposed sprinklers, showering them all with massive amounts of freezing cold water.

Gasping for breath, Artemisia hooked her arms through Jeremy's and pulled him toward the garage. The water and the glass would only slow the guards down a little, but she was desperate. She got the two of them into the elevator and pushed the button for the fourth floor, where Dr. Green's car was (hopefully) parked.

"Jeremy," she whispered, looking frantically for the bullet wound. "God damn it...stay with me!"

"Oh, thank God," breathed Artemisia when she realized he was still alive. But the wound would become worse and possibly fatal if she couldn't get him to a hospital. She was good with lab equipment and even a little first aid, but a bullet to the chest was far, far beyond her modest skills. The second the doors opened, she grabbed Jeremy and started pulling him out of the elevator with her.

The going was slower this time, now that she knew he had a lung injury. Instead of just hauling him along the ground by his arms, she scooted along with him, careful to hold the left side of his body still and up off the ground. She could hear shouting and footsteps from the lower floors--the guards were catching up to her. Another surge of fear gave her enough adrenaline to get to Dr. Green's lime convertible. She eased Jeremy into the back seat, the footsteps and echoing growing louder with each passing second.

"Come on...PLEASE work," she said as she hopped the door into the car. She said the keyword and waited with bated breath--steering wheel in one hand, handgun still in her other, one foot ready to gun the accelerator.

The Blue Falcon, she thought--Jeremy's contact. But she had to get Jeremy to a hospital first, and the quicker the better. So she settled for a compromise as she strapped herself into the driver seat.

"The hospital closest to the Blue Falcon night club," she said into the navigational computer. The screen blinked once or twice, then cleared, showing her directions to the hospital. It was thankfully only a block or two past the address on the card Jeremy had given her, and not terribly far from Tri-Global.

She gunned the engine, sending the car screeching around the corner. The guards burst into the room the instant they heard the squeal of rubber and she ducked as they fired, bullets whizzing over her head. She turned the car sharply to the left and down the service ramp staircase, thanking her lucky stars that Dr. Green had a small enough car. Nevertheless, the car's mirrors scraped against the concrete, and an earsplitting snap like a gunshot echoed through the garage as the left side mirror snapped off and flew backwards.

Alarms suddenly sounded throughout the garage, but she didn't need them to realize that they were hardly out of trouble yet. The service ramp was much smaller, and the car's doors and sides constantly banged against the walls, jolting both her and Jeremy from side to side. She gritted her teeth and placed one hand on Jeremy's chest, holding him still to the best of her ability. He was still breathing--but much more of this jolting, and he was going to go into shock.

The gate arm separating the service ramp from the main garage entrance loomed ahead of them. Artemisia closed her eyes, bracing for impact, and slammed down on the accelerator. They tore through the gate arm with a deafening smash and the dimness of the garage was suddenly replaced by the harsh white of streetlights.

((Quick question: when/if Artemisia and Jeremy get out of Tri-Global's clutches, I'm guessing I'll need to move her to a different thread? It wouldn't make a lot of sense to keep RPing here...))