Flying Lorises {a modern day leviathan fic}

part viii

written by maddie, beta read by cat

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chest heaving, laser in hand, Deryn peeks around the corner. There’s no Alek in sight, but she’s down to two lives, thanks to some random kid on a shooting spree.

She’s sure that he was right behind her. 

And there he is, running – no, jogging; running is forbidden – towards her with his laser raised. Deryn ducks just in time and Alek whizzes past, skidding on the slick floor.

She grins. Alek is going down.

Her laser is leveled at her eye, the blast just narrowly missing his shoulder pad and she curses loudly, earning a nasty glare from a nearby parent. “Sorry,” Deryn mutters.

“Setting a bad example for kids, Deryn!” Alek taunts. 

“Aye, only following your example!”

They charge at each other, firing periodically, and Deryn grins as his left shoulder pad flashes red. And then the floor is suddenly slippery, and her shoes can’t grip the tile properly, and she is desperately digging her heels down unsuccessfully.

Somehow, Deryn finds herself in a tangle of limbs, Alek’s legs flopping over hers and her right arm is pinned under his laser. His shoulder is smothering her.

Grumbling, Alek raises his head up but Deryn still can’t breathe, only this time it’s because his face is far too close to be friendly.

He is only defined by the whites of his eyes and his teeth; oh, and the glowing green of his irises.

In the back of her mind she remembers that she needs to breathe eventually. Deryn does, and, smiling shyly, brings her laser around and shoots him in the back.

The registered shock in Alek’s face as the target flashes red is enough to please Deryn. She flips him over, limbs still twisted, and his laser skitters away. It doesn’t matter, though, it’s useless anyway. The vest has powered down, his weapons deactivated.

“I win,” whispers Deryn gleefully. From under her, Alek glares accusingly. He is pinned down and he can’t move; Deryn is still taller, just by a little.

“You cheated,” he says.

“I did not, you daftie.” Deryn is delightfully innocent-looking. Before Alek can respond, Deryn feels  a tap on her shoulder.

“Excuse me,” says the woman in luminescent white. “No physical contact is allowed in the arena.”

Blushing furiously as she realizes how compromising they must look, Deryn thanks whoever’s listening that the place is shrouded in darkness and her burning cheeks are hidden. She scrabbles to her feet, pulling Alek up by the hand.

“My apologies, Fraulein Werner,” says Alek. “It won’t happen again.” 

“I’m glad to hear it. I”ll be escorting you both outside now.”

No amount of protesting and polite pleading will change her mind. Alek stares daggers at her the whole way out.