T6: Lola

Stepping cautiously past the slumped body of one of the defenders, Lola kept her eyes and her weapon focused on the top of the stairs. The winding stair-well was heavily defended- they'd already dropped several shooters.

Behind her, Alba's pistol cracked twice, making her flinch. A bullet hissed well overhead, crunched into concrete. "Shooters on the upper landing!" Alba barked, crisp and determined. "Keep moving- push up!"

Easier said than done- Lola quickened her pace slightly, taking the steps now two at a time, glad now of all the conditioning training they'd done. Ahead on the landing, a black-clad woman came into view, holding something out towards her- she fired, and the woman fell back with a shrill echoing cry.

"Yes! Got another!"

"Push up! Go"

Another bullet hit the wall behind and above her- it was clear that staying here was as dangerous as going on.

"How many more of them can there be?" she panted. The landing was close now- a few more steps. A red-haired girl in tight leather pants and a half-open jacket swung recklessly around, right in front of her muzzle. She squeezed the trigger instinctively: The red-head lurched as if punched, made a strangled groaning sound, and reeled back out of view.

"Got another!"

"Just move!"

She cleared the last few steps at a run, hearing Alba behind her exchanging more shots with the shooters up on the balcony. The landing was in shadow, her eyes struggling to penetrate the darkness after the bright daylight in the stair-well.

And then something hit her in the belly, hard enough and painfully enough to make her squeal in surprise. She knew instantly, instinctively what it was.

"No! Fuck! No!" She went down, suddenly too weak to stand. Her legs kicked up as her arse hit the concrete. More shots sounded above her, answered by a shriek, though she wasn't looking any more: Her eyes were screwed shut in pain and fear.

"Move! Move!"

That was Alba again, the mad bitch. This was her fucking fault- if they'd gone more slowly, more carefully...

Heels scratched on concrete as Alba and Danielle pushed past her, leaving her for dead. She heard them shouting to the others below, calling for the others to keep up. The thick heels of her Jimmy Choos kicked at the hard ground, her belly burning with pain. Next to her, she heard a grim chuckle, tight with pain. She opened teary eyes, saw the red-head she'd shot slumped next to her, hands pressed to her own leaking wound. The woman tried to sneer some sort of taunt at her, coughed up blood instead.

It wasn't much comfort.