Playtronics

[dontlooklisten]

This hasn't exactly been the most fruitful of nights, but so far nobody's been shot, which Bishop is counting as a net plus. He and Liz and Carl have managed to make it to the roof. As they dash in and out of the range of the spotlights, heading for the fire escape, he pulls out his walkie-talkie. "Crease," he says urgently, ducking, "we're on the

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[abar_starclog]

After the way the rest of the evening's gone, seeing the van's lights is quite the relief, frankly. "There!"

"Beautiful. Come and get us."

Bishop's adding something else, probably to the effect of 'and hurry up,' but Carl's quite ready to go, thank you, so he's already on his way down the fire escape.

[dontlooklisten]

Whistler settles back in his jumpseat as Crease and Mother scramble up front. He hears the van start up-"

"Put your hands where I can see them and step out of the van," says a stranger's voice. A second later: "You too, Midnight."

Ooooohshit, thinks Whistler, and fumbles around for a radio headset. When his fingers encounter one, he tugs it on. "Bish," he hisses. "Bish! They've got Crease and Mother!"

"Shit!" swears Bishop over the radio. There's a pause, and then he says, "Whistler, you've gotta do it."

"Do what?"

"You've gotta drive," says Bishop's voice. "I'll talk you through it. Now hurry."

.... he didn't hear that. He did not hear that. "D-drive what?" Whistler manages, hoping that he really and truly did not hear that.

[abar_starclog]

Carl approves of being on solid ground. Liz is next off the ladder, and Bishop...
...Is not following. Carl can't figure anything out from trying to look back up the side of the building, at this angle, so he tries the hill the van's on.

"What is it?" Liz asks, after a moment.

"Can't really tell. But between Bishop not coming down yet and... it looks like there are people in front of the van, the way the light's... I think we've got yet another problem."

"...Oh, dear."

She would be too refined, Carl can't help thinking, to give the situation the hearty well, fuck it deserves.

[dontlooklisten]

Something's going on outside the van that Whistler can't quite hear. He's too busy ignoring the pounding in his ears as he does his best to creep unnoticed into the driver's (OH GOD WHAT AM I DOING) seat of the van. "Okay, Bish," he finally manages.

The headset crackles. "Now, there's a gate about thirty yards behind you. Put it in reverse and floor it."

Outside he can just about hear Crease muttering, probably to Mother. "Um, what's reverse?" he asks, hands fumbling over the steering wheel and its surroundings until he reaches a lever.

"Uh- one down."

Whistler pulls the lever down one notch and stomps on the first pedal to present itself. The van jerks backward sharply, its engine roaring; it's everything he can do not to squeak in terror. "Uh, Bish?"

("Uh, Crease?" says Mother. "Where's Whistler going?")

"I'm going backwards-"

"You're doing fine. You're doing fine-"

Something smacks against the back of the van. "AAGH!" Whistler yells reflexively. "Now!" comes Bishop's voice. "Hit the brakes, now!" There's another pedal- he