Eliza gave a drawn out sigh, though whether it was through exasperation or relief, none could say, as Anas lumbering form made itself known. Giving a shrug, she called out to her mockingly:
"Words are hard, I know. Let's go."
An old fashioned analog clock clicked away on a dusty wall covered with faded drywall. In the dim moonlight, a pair of gloved hands came up to remove a helmet, shaking free long, platinum tresses. Her thin fingertips came up to undo the clasps along the outside of the containment suit, until it too was sloughed from her form, exposing bare shoulders beneath. Clad in little more than a white tank top and a pair of dark gym shorts, she kicked away the rest into a corner as she reached up, pulling her hair back into a comfortable ponytail after its time under wraps.
The small woman had led the two of them to a smaller, secondary elevator and decontamination zone, saying little as she did so - one that led up into this, what appeared to be an older, disused part of the complex. A layer of dust covered everything, and it seemed to be presently used as storage of some kind. Stacked desks and tables indicated it had been a lecture room of some fashion, with a scratched, veteran chalkboard located at the front of the room... and faded windows that peered out onto the Jeddah skyline.
But most importantly, it seemed... There were no security cameras.
Not here, nor on the route there for that matter - it seemed as if DEI's prodigy had memorized it down to the last turn, leading them down only faintly lit ancient tunnels, ones that hadn't been used in quite some time, before they reached their "destination".
"So." ...She said at length as she produced something from within one of the desks with a small gasp - a compact first aid kit, it looked like, asking casually as she did so:
"...Who are you really with?"
"Words are hard, I know. Let's go."
Tick... tock...
Tick... tock...
Tick... tock...
An old fashioned analog clock clicked away on a dusty wall covered with faded drywall. In the dim moonlight, a pair of gloved hands came up to remove a helmet, shaking free long, platinum tresses. Her thin fingertips came up to undo the clasps along the outside of the containment suit, until it too was sloughed from her form, exposing bare shoulders beneath. Clad in little more than a white tank top and a pair of dark gym shorts, she kicked away the rest into a corner as she reached up, pulling her hair back into a comfortable ponytail after its time under wraps.
The small woman had led the two of them to a smaller, secondary elevator and decontamination zone, saying little as she did so - one that led up into this, what appeared to be an older, disused part of the complex. A layer of dust covered everything, and it seemed to be presently used as storage of some kind. Stacked desks and tables indicated it had been a lecture room of some fashion, with a scratched, veteran chalkboard located at the front of the room... and faded windows that peered out onto the Jeddah skyline.
But most importantly, it seemed... There were no security cameras.
Not here, nor on the route there for that matter - it seemed as if DEI's prodigy had memorized it down to the last turn, leading them down only faintly lit ancient tunnels, ones that hadn't been used in quite some time, before they reached their "destination".
"So." ...She said at length as she produced something from within one of the desks with a small gasp - a compact first aid kit, it looked like, asking casually as she did so:
"...Who are you really with?"