Bane

December 01, 1993

...lights, and sirens.

How the lights were so bright, facing out from Grifford's estate, washing Gina with blinding white.

How the sirens blared, her ears ringing and unable to adjust to the awful sound.

She could not see them coming, Grifford's guards. She could not hear their shouting.

She knew they were coming, though.

Gina was not trained in The Order, or its all too often direct style of combat. She was trained by Bishop, her ability to fight augmented by his lessons in fighting blind.

They were coming. She knelt to the driveway, her palms flat on the pavement. She could feel their heavy footfalls in the concrete, the vibration of hard soled, and heavy leather boots.

Gina closed her eyes and calmed herself.

They would be upon her soon, and not just his. By now there would have to be others on the way. Perhaps House Walker. God forbid Hutchinson. Karen would give even her a run for her money, had she any money.

Gina clenched her fists, the reinforced knuckles in her fingerless gloves tightening over her fists. She rose, thrusting her right fist upward, under the chin of the first of Grifford's guards. She felt his boots leave up, and off the ground. She hooked her left arm, and caught someone else's kick. She held it against her chest, and thrust her free fist down like a hammer and felt the guard's knee pop. She kept his leg trapped and rolled in toward him, and his leg bent sideways, tearing tendons and miniscus as it did. He howled in pain, and she heard it even above the sirens.

Suddenly, against the muted light of her closed eyelids, she saw stars. Something heavy, something hard, right between her eyes. She fell back, arched and landed on the palms of her hands, springing back onto her feet. It was a bad day for tennis shoes. No weight. No heft. None of that 'little extra' that could help her push through the ranks of Grifford's men.

She moved swiftly, blocked a series of attacks, their punches and kicks deflected in succession. Gina kept her eyes shut against the lights, her mind clear of questions, whether it was one, or five attacking her at once.

It was Bishop's way.

Bishop's way was hers now.

The goal was not to defeat one attacker at a time. The goal was to bring them down all at once. Gina felt a punch glance off her cheek, and ignored it. She caught her attacker's forearm, turned it over her shoulder and pulled against the resistance of his elbow until she felt it snap. He bellowed, but she kept her hold, and pulled him over her shoulder. She felt him topple into others, even as she kicked her heel backward into the low, soft parts of the attacker rushing her from behind.

✟ ☧ ✟

Gina pulled her blood soaked gloves as she ascended the half crescent stairway up to the veranda leading to Grifford's front door.

She turned from the door, and looked out over Grifford's courtyard. There were only twenty-two guards, some limping over to others, others helping the seriously injured guards - the ones with broken bones, or compound fractures - and some standing in the courtyard staring up past the light toward her. Gina pulled her sweat soaked hair back behind her ears. She wiped her palms off on her shirt and turned to face the door. Above it, a solitary camera with a red blinking light stared down at her.

"I'm getting in. You can open the door, or I can break it down."

✟ ☧ ✟

The double doors to Randall Grifford's office spring open, splintering around the jamb as one of Grifford's guards tumbled into his office and slid to a halt in the center of the room.