[ Third Person POV ]
When their bus stopped, they got off in order. Rage headed off in one direction, glancing over his shoulder only once. It was just long enough to see that Gunner was following him from an inconspicuous distance ... but Cat and Low were going a different direction. He read the situation with a glance, understood what was happening, and didn't miss a beat. Just kept on walking, with Gunner trailing a few people behind in the crowd.
Rage hadn't a clue what Cat and Low were planning, but he didn't doubt their abilities, either.
Cat and Low moved with purpose. They stayed in step with each other the whole time, and at some point, Cat leaned into Low and slung an arm around her shoulders, making a show of leaning down and pressing his lips to her temple, before whispering, "Targets at five and nine."
Low's only response was to blow a bubble and pop it.
The two continued walking, entering the building through the sliding doors and veering off toward a souvenir shop that was at one end of the building, a good distance from the ticket lines. Once inside the shop, they meandered about aimlessly, looking over t-shirts and candies ...
There were five men following them. If either had to guess, they would've presumed the Kinetic would anticipate they'd head to the airport, and had had agents waiting. That meant there were likely other agents trailing Rage and Gunner, but when Low had been clocking people — she'd noticed the agents long before Catatonic had confirmed them — she'd only sighted two following their companions.
Which meant more agents were likely spread out inside the airport.
Low did not consider that to be a problem.
A strong hand latching onto Catatonic's shoulder and pried him off of Low, which was all it took to set the two into motion.
Cat responded to the harsh gesture with a quick turn and one short, practiced jab to the trachea, before he snatched the man's own gun off of him and aimed it at two of his friends who had followed immediately behind. In the meantime another two men had gone for Low, but no sooner had their gloved hands brushed her upper arm than did she whirl a high-kick into one's chest, using her momentum to latch onto the other and bring him down to his knees with her thighs wrapped around his shoulders.
At the same time she had grabbed one of their guns at well, and now aimed it carefully at the one who was most conscious — and on his knees.
This all happened in a matter of seven seconds.
"You first, Cat," Low said, snapping her gum. Dark brown eyes that once appeared guarded were now glaring at the man before her.
"If you insist," Cat smirked.
Neither were concerned about passers by or airport security. This was an ordeal that had happened in a matter of seconds, and it would be finished just as quickly. Not in death, though — something different ... more LASAR.
"How many Kinetic agents are at this airport?" Cat asked, making sure to enunciate each word with the utmost of care. His eyes were sharp and saw through the man's tough-guy façade in an instant. All it took was pressing the gun to his head for him to flinch.
The man somehow found it in him to glare up at Catatonic. "I don't know."
"You're lying," Low retorted.
Cat's smile took on a feral edge. His ability didn't require anything physical, didn't even require any gestures; all he had to do was focus. And while he could've been subtler, or even kinder, he had come to the end of his rope and chose to cause pain.
The man gave a full-body flinch, his eyes going wide as his mouth opened in a silent declaration of pain, before he gasped out, "Twenty-two! There are twenty-two—"
"Thank you," Catatonic said before he hit him over the head with the gun, knocking him out instantly.
The man that Low was holding at gunpoint now looked as though he had peed his pants. She canted her head and flashed a perfect and pearly smile down at him— which was the last thing he saw before he was knocked unconscious, too.
When the airport security arrived at the gift shop looking for a teenage couple who had assaulted a handful of grown men, Catatonic and Low were long gone.
They evaded airport security with the same ease they had used in the take down of the Kinetic agents. Once they were out of the gift shop, Low was in charge of picking out Kinetic agents who followed them. Catatonic and Low's collaboration worked splendidly like that; though both were equally vicious fighters, when Cat was around, she preferred to point him in the proper direction and watch his back. It was the strategist in her. Early on in her training, she had learned some things were understood better from a distance.
She had also learned that Catatonic fought like a berserker when she was present to be 'protected.' (Sometimes she wondered if the powers that had been had truly known what they were doing in making them single-agents.)
Their opponents only came two or three at a time. They were spread out across the airport, and any time they picked up on Cat and Low's presence ... they didn't last long.
The first two after the shop actually fared worse than their friends had. Low made a subtle sign, and Cat acted swiftly. The first man went down with a pressure-point, with Cat guiding him onto a nearby open chair that made it appear as though he was sleeping. The second one ended up disappearing into the bathroom ... with assistance from Cat. He likely wouldn't be emerging conscious any time soon.
In total, Catatonic and Low took out seventeen of the twenty-two agents. They completed their journey in the restricted area of the airport, where they also made their way to the hanger. It wasn't at all where they had intended to go, but at the same time, neither of them were disappointed.
"What're you two doing here?" A loud voice asked in British English.
Cat and Low turned slowly to see who had addressed them. He was a tall man, dressed sharply in a captain's uniform. He was a blond, and gave them both a once over with dark brown eyes before his thick brow furrowed. "This is a restricted access area."
Without missing a beat, Low turned toward Catatonic and rambled off a line in loud Hindi, gesturing wildly, as though she was confused, and perhaps annoyed.
Catatonic answered in much quieter Hindi before turning to the pilot and granting him an affable smile. When he spoke, it was with a British English accent as well. "I'm a flight attendant on break, actually," he explained to the captain. "My friend here was on a long overlay— I thought I'd give her a tour."
The captain looked between the two of them warily, disbelief still swimming in his eyes. "What airline do you work with?" he asked, focusing on Catatonic.
"British Airways." Catatonic didn't miss a beat. His charming and kind smile remained in place. "I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to cause a ruckus. I'll just get my friend back to her gate and be on my way."
The captain eyed them in silence for a moment before nodding curtly. "Next time, no free tours. It's not professional. I'll let it slide for now ..."
No sooner had he said 'professional,' than was Catatonic making a show of guiding Low away from the captain. They didn't head back for the main building though, instead they were stopped by a hissing 'Pssssssst!'
Both of them turned toward the sound in time to see Gunner waving frantically from the stairs of a small, private jet. Low arched a brow as Cat said, "Gunner?"
"Yeah, it's me, are you just gonna stand there staring at me, or are you going to get on the plane?" Gunner asked impatiently, still waving them over.
That was the only invitation they needed to begin jogging toward the craft. No sooner had they begun to make their way over than did the engines roar to life, awakening like a great metal beast. Low was the first to reach the stairs and scaled them with a feline grace; "Are we commandeering this jet?" she asked as she darted around Gunner and into the cabin.
"Actually, no," Gunner said.
"No?" Catatonic asked, pausing before his large friend just long for Gunner to lose his patience and choose to physically pull him into the craft.
"No," Gunner repeated sternly. "Rage happens to, by some strange miracle, have friends. We're borrowing," he explained as he closed the hatch, careful to secure it before he leaned into cockpit. "Everything going well, I presume?" he asked Rage.
"Well enough," Rage said shortly, without looking back at Gunner. The man was nothing if not confident. "You've got three minutes with them before I need you to act as co-pilot."
"Yes sir," Gunner agreed out of habit, before moving back toward the cabin.
Catatonic and Low had taken a seat beside each other in the cabin, and watched him carefully, both seeming far more relaxed than he would have anticipated. He looked between them with a furrowed brow. "How many of the Kinetic did you take out?"
"Well," Cat drawled with a smirk, "after taking out four, we were reliably informed there were twenty-two more—"
"We took out twenty one total," Low interrupted him. "Including the first four. Which means there were five left. I assume you two dealt with them?"
"Four, actually," Gunner said thoughtfully.
Cat merely shrugged. "I guess one got scared and ran away."
Gunner frowned at that. "Are you sure—"
"Positive," the duo chimed simultaneously, fixing Gunner with a look. A look that plainly communicated the most important information: they had made use of their powers, and neither doubted the accuracy of the information that they had received.
Gunner nodded in understanding. "Then maybe one did run away," he sighed. "One messenger off to tell his buddies we escaped."
"Eh," Catatonic shrugged, unconcerned. A wicked gleam shone in his eyes. "Let's be real, Gun; it won't matter in the end, will it?"
Gunner smiled somewhat in return. "No," he agreed, "I don't guess it will."