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Rainbow 6 Siege: Gridlocked
🕑 Added 2020-02-16 10:41:28 +0000 UTCFebruary 14th
1 William Street, Brisbane Queensland
Australia
0415
Eliza “Ash” Cohen starred up at the skyscraper. Flashing blue and red lights bounced off of the black windows on the lower levels. There was so little room between the ground level and the waterfront that just looking up toward the top of the building would have dislodged her FBI cap were it not for her deep red braided ponytail pulled through the back.
The building looked dead to her, which was all the more worrying considering it was currently playing nest to a few dozen rats. Intel would have her guessing how many hostiles were currently housed in the upper floors, but Ash knew from experience that The White Masks always used thirty. She pressed a hand to her ear, activating the radio.
“Glaz, you got any sights?”
“Naturally,” the radio buzzed. The former Spetsnaz operator whispered back through the communicator. “Multiple combatants are fortifying the windows on floors 12 to 16. They are focusing defense here.”
Someone approached Ash’s side. She turned to recognize IQ, blue eyes bright and alert over the top of her face mask, a large helmet covering her sunrise blonde hair. IQ held up her wrist, pointing it at the building. Her Germanic accent gave a sharp edge to her words, “The hostage center must be higher. The highest collection of electronic activity is on floor 25. You see?”
“What I see is that these rent-a-cops haven’t cut power to the building,” Ash responded bitterly. She turned and looked over to a hastily erected station nearby one of the lead armored vehicles. A man in a suit that she knew to be the hostage negotiator was pointlessly trying to get a line to the terrorist cell, ignorant of the fact that The White Masks never listed demands that any city could reach. The terrorist group wanted change on a global scale, not something one could hide in a bank vault.
Yet, Ash had to sit back and play good little girl and let the Brisbane Police Department try to play nice. It was like dealing with completely inept civilians. Without spotlights, too. The terrorists were probably watching every move down here…
What was the point of calling Team Rainbow here if not for their experience? For all the government knew, the terrorists could be rigging that building with several bio-hazard containers to unleash a plague on the city. And these morons were trying to call them on the phone.
From her other side, the sound of an approaching suit of armor betrayed the French specialist, Montagne. “It is a rouse?” he asked, clicking his extended ballistics shield onto the mag-strip on his left arm. “They are fortifying another area to hide the hostages from us?”
“Glaz?” Ash asked, not removing her scowl from the negotiator as he raised his arms and shouted into the phone, probably having just been told to go and kick rocks.
“No sight on the hostages, Team Leader. I’m not high enough to see into that part.”
Ash wanted to curse the short surrounding buildings of Kangaroo Point. Instead she asked, “Where the hell is my heavy weapons expert?”
Nobody responded.
“Perhaps she is sleeping in,” IQ lamely suggested. “She is coming from her farm all by herself.”
Montagne didn’t seem impressed. “I was flown here from Seoul. She could not make a few hours’ drive?”
“Being fair to Ms. Tori, she is retired from this, yes?”
“It was a sabbatical, not retirement.”
“You never retire,” Ash came in. “You can try to walk away, but you’ll never really quit the game.”
Glaz’s icy tone came over the call. “Vehicle approaching. Green minivan just turned off the expressway, passed through the police blockade.”
A moment later, another voice came into Ash’s other ear. “Uhhh Cohen, this is Officer Bartles. Your Sheila’s pulled through, but uhhhh… Well, you’ll be right. You’ll be right.”
She narrowed her eyes before responding. “Copy, Officer Bartles. Maintain the blockade.”
“Yeah, you’ve gotcha.”
Ash rolled her eyes before turning towards the oncoming vehicle.
“A minivan?” she heard Montagne ask. “Aren’t minivans for housewives? What does she have a minivan for?”
“Perhaps to transfer around her heavy equipment,” IQ suggested. “And for your information, I own a minivan.”
“Are you a housewife?”
“I am most certainly not!”
“Hmm… Do you want to be a housewife?”
A rather loud silence followed. Ash turned away from the approaching headlights to see that IQ was looking away from the conversation with her arms crossed over her modest chest. She was glaring intently at the building. Montagne, who noticed Ash, shrugged.
“Maybe you and Gridlock can bond over it,” Ash jibbed at the girl as the van pulled up and the headlights turned out. “Talk about how much you two have in common.”
“I don’t believe it will be a long list,” Montagne said, looking past them.
Ash turned around at the rancorous squeaking of steel from the minivan. She was immediately drawn to the horrendous neon green coloring, balking at the puke-like design choice and missing the view as the operator dismounted. She did, however, notice how heavily the van shook as Gridlock came out.
Ash sighed. Tori “Gridlock” Fairous had been the heaviest operator in Rainbow, weighing almost thirty pounds more than even Montagne when she had taken a prolonged hiatus from the organization. But when the call went out of an Australian attack, she’d been one of the first on Team Rainbow to respond to the message. Ash had every intention to commend the other woman for her diligence and bravery, coming back onto the job in a time of need.
However, as she came around the side of her van, Ash could hardly think much less speak. The… thing, that wobbled towards them looked almost as if she had eaten Tori and taken her place.
She wasn’t just heavy, wasn’t even just fat. She was ginormous, covered with at least three-hundred… maybe even four-hundred-pounds of jiggling flab! While before she looked like a brick house, Gridlock now looked as if she could hardly stand up. Combat boots clung almost comically partway up her calves, with bubbling fat spilling over the straps at the top, partially undone because they just couldn’t fit. A pair of shorts that she had forced her belly into dug into her sides, with thick legs rolling over the tops of her knees. She wore a camo tee shirt pulled tight over her massive belly. The material looked as if she’d stitched two normal shirts together to try and cover herself, which still failed as it began to ride up on her just from walking.
Ash at first thought Gridlock carried her gadget in her hand, but when she lowered her lips and began slurping from it, she realized it was the fattest drink Ash had ever seen. Blue slush was pulled through a clear straw, and on the side of the cup the words ‘Mama Roo’ were printed in bold red.
In a happy voice, mired with an unmistakable undertone of husky obesity, Gridlock greeted the group. “Long time no see, ya mongrels!” She spread her arms in greeting, dangling flab highlighted in red and blue lights. “So, what’s the situation, eh?”
Ash gawked, mouth open.
From her side, Montagne was the first to recover from the visual assault. Likely due to the fact that he was covered in several plates of ballistic armor that might put him in a similar weight class. “Bienvenue, femme de fer.”
“Eher wie Frau des gelee…” IQ muttered.
“Yup. Still no idea what you two are on about.” Gridlock put solid hands on either side of her waist, though she grinned good naturedly.
Ash, who understood the mumbled comparison, continued to say nothing. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the crest of Gridlock’s belly, nor how the tight shirt slowly crawled over the swell.
Her earpiece buzzed. “Team Leader, I wouldn’t provoke the water buffalo from that distance… If she charges, I don’t think my 7.62 could pierce that hide from so far away.”
It was enough to break Ash from her silence. “What in the hell happened to you?” she asked.
“Eheh…” the portly woman sweat. “Never one to kick around in the Outback. Well, as you can no doubt see,” she spread her arms wide, “I’ve uhhh… been enjoying my walkabout a bit too far.”
Silence. A thousand insulting phrases came through Ash’s head, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the light stretchmarks that colored the now exposed stomach.
From behind she heard Montagne whisper, “You really own a minivan?”
“S-shut your mouth, please!” responded IQ.
Ash shook her head, stepping forward. “Gridlock, you… you can’t be here. Look at you! This is… those are White Masks in there!” she pointed up at the sloped skyscraper. “Jesus Christ!”
Gridlock put her hands up, casually snorting. “Oho no, I don’t think so. I ain’t stepping one fat foot into that croc nest. I’m here to back you up. Intel, ya follow?”
“Intel?? Why did you even respond to the call?!”
A blush so powerful that it showed even in the flashing lights colored Gridlock’s cheeks. “Would you believe it was by accident?” she asked sheepishly. “You sent a notification to my phone, woke me up it did, and I sorta tapped it before heading back to sleep.”
Steam practically blew out of Ash’s ears, which made it all the more disquieting when her earpiece whispered, “You know what, it just might be worth trying…” followed by a mechanical click.
Montagne cleared his throat, noticeably moving forward to block the Russian’s sight.
“I came as soon as I woke up, though!” Gridlock said into the perceived silence. “I only just stopped for a bit of breakie,” she shook her slushie.
“Move out of the way, French man.”
Montagne removed the shield from his wrist, sliding it over his back. It clamped to the magnets on his shoulders. Without breaking a sweat he picked up, “Well you are here. That is what matters now.”
“No,” Ash scowled. “It means we’re still down a member of our team! Where is your gear even?”
“Well it doesn’t fit, does it?” Gridlock replied, thumbing her fingers in her shirt and tugging it down around her belly. “Whatchu want me to do? Belts only come in sizes so big.”
“I might have some that are used for cargo,” Montagne suggested.
“You’re sweet mate, but like I said, I ain’t goin in that building. Don’t even have me SAW.”
Ash put her face in her hands. “We brought weapons. Everyone’s already equipped. IQ has an M249 in her trunk, along with a Super Shorty.”
To show this, the small German woman lifted up a crate that was twice the width of her torso, and about half the size of Gridlock’s. On the front was printed an Australian flag, several stickers of kangaroos, and the word ‘Gridlock’.
“Awe… well, not that that ain’t right of ya, but I don’t think there’s no way in hell anyone could get me in tha-”
“SNIPER!”
Ash’s earbud popped at the ferocity of the bellow. She twisted, cupping her ear, and then the gunfire erupted. She saw the negotiator go down as a burst of automatic fire tore up his body, spraying the tent with his blood. Montagne’s huge hand was suddenly behind her, driving her forward straight into Gridlock’s gut. “INSIDE!” he roared, his shield clicking back onto his wrist.
Her communicator burst as Glaz’s rifle roared through the mic. “Hostiles at the eight windows on th- Shit!” The rifle roared again. “Launchers! 18thfloor, they’ve got-”
The car behind team Rainbow was suddenly engulfed in flame. Ash grabbed onto Gridlock before the force of the explosion sent them forward. The massive brunette fell into a loping stagger, with Ash pulling the water buffalo along by her love handles.
Another explosion had the street kick up underneath them. Small arms fire erupted as police tried to return fire upon the building with service pistols, far outclassed by the heavily armed terrorists. She recognized the bark of 6P41s, their steady stream of metal flying down from above.
Several people were already screaming in pain.
Ash kept moving, kept running, kept pushing. They had to make it inside, had to get beneath the shooters’ angles.
Revolver shots pierced the air, flying over their heads and slamming into the glass doors to the building and shattering inward. Ash hauled Gridlock through the double doored passage, feeling an irrational fear that the woman might be too big to fit, but managed to force her into the quiet ground center of the office building.
Behind them, IQ and Montagne were moving steadily forward, the light girl practically clinging to his back as he angled his extended shield up toward the shooters. They moved as quickly as they were able, but Ash still grit her teeth when she heard another launcher fire from above. It slammed into the forward operations of the Brisbane Police, which wasn’t much better, but Montagne and IQ made it in through the door.
Ash’s arms burned. Her chest heaved, and she could feel spikes of adrenaline kicking through. She adjusted her weapon straps, checking her M120 breaching device and readying her G36C assault rifle. She noticed with irritation that Gridlock was breathing much, much more intensely than she was, still doubled over.
The gunfire began to taper out before completely vanishing. IQ dropped the crate she’d been carrying, which contained Gridlock’s equipment, and it thundered on the vacant floor.
“Team Leader, sniper combatants have withdrawn. I have counted Six possible KIA. Three wounded.”
Ash griped, tearing free her police communicator before tapping her team. “Keep your eyes open, Glaz. You are free to engage any combatants. They just let us off the chain.”
She heard his rifle respond from several hundred meters out. His voice came back. “Seven possible KIA. Three on floor 18, four on floor 16. Be aware. I spotted some wearing hazmat suits.”
“Fantastic.” Ash said before cutting the connection. She rounded on Gridlock, jabbing her finger in the doughball’s belly. “You! Are helping us. I am not getting shot in the back by a roamer because we didn’t have a rear guard!”
“W-w-what?? No, Ash, I co-”
“Put your gear on!” she stabbed. “Now! IQ and I are going to floor 16 to start working up, you get prepped and meet us there. This building has 41 floors, and by the time we’re done you better have sweat your ass back down to a size twenty-five! Got it?”
She didn’t wait for a response, just turned her back and began advancing to the stairwell. IQ, looking sheepishly from Gridlock then to Ash’s back, grimaced through her mask. “I-I am sorry about your minivan,” she said before hurrying after Ash, readying her AUG A2.
“My…?” Gridlocked looked back out the entryway.
A smoldering fire burned black from her bright green vehicle.
“Oh… Bloody cunts.”
******************************************************************************
Even with Montagne helping to dress her, it still took almost twenty minutes to get Gridlock into a serviceable amount of gear.
Her wavy brown hair, which had grown down past her shoulders, had to be pulled into a makeshift braid that was pinned rather than tied. Her armor wouldn’t fit without digging into her fleshy neck, and then it couldn’t strap around her massive chest. Even unsecured, it left most of her stomach uncovered, wobbling like a pale spotlight in the dark lobby. She would have gone without it if it didn’t mean she’d also be sacrificing the breaching charges, flashlight, defusal equipment, and the now team-synced radio.
Montagne talked to her as he fastened loose buckles and improvised new knots. She told him about how she’d intended to come back to Team Rainbow after only a week, take some time off to get herself out there. Get laid, get her head back into the fight. But, on the day she’d meant to call, she slept until 1900. Too late for any reasonable team member that was not totally off their game… She’d just call them the next day, when she got her head straight.
And then it was the next day.
And then it was the next day.
She had become a total night owl, which was a hard thing to be in the land of Aus. She’d go to night clubs, go dancing, throwing herself into a culture of people she’d never experienced or even spoken to. And there were so many women that came to her, there. So many hopeful young girls looking for someone to put their faith into, who had seen what hell looked like and hadn’t flinched away.
And so she’d become spoiled. And then she’d become fat. But the girls kept coming, told her they were always drawn in by her eyes.
‘You look like you’re someone who’s seen something.’
In this world, a world taken by fear of The White Masks, of the bio-terrorist events that had shocked entire nations and had given out these wild reports of infected humans being corrupted into something less than alive, the girls sought someone strong.
And they made her soft. Filling her with drinks and bar food that was drenched with enough heavyweight grease that you’d think she was an American. Plus a few hundred pounds.
She was chewing on her own chubby lip while Montagne fed a belt through her too tight thighs, an area where Gridlock could no longer reach. It felt awkward to be going into battle wearing shorts…
“I will be honest with you. I will be fair. I understand things have changed, but Ash is correct. You should have called and not have come.”
Gridlock scowled. “Yeah, yeah… I know… a part of me does miss it, but I don’t think not as much as I liked being away from it all. I’m getting old… more mature!” she corrected. “My system’s not what it used to be.”
Montagne looked up at her. Dark eyes giving her a level expression beneath his facial covering. “Tori, I am nearly sixty. If you cannot keep up, then please, stay behind me.”
With that he stood, adjusting his shield before going to the crate. He leaned down and lifted the SAW from the casing.
“Can you wield?” he asked her.
“I got it,” Gridlock took the weapon, moving to strap it around her waist.
Naturally, the harness didn’t fit.
She growled at the offending belt, trying her best to slip it over one shoulder instead.
It fit, with the strap mushing her ballistic plate against her fatty breasts. Then she took the Super Shorty, choosing to wield the small shotgun as her primary after realizing how much the SAW made the non-existent muscle inside her flabby arms burn.
At least she could hold the bloody thing...
Her radio crackled. “Fourteen KIA,” she heard the sniper inform. “Your rear is good.”
Gridlock looked up at Montagne, mouth bending up into a smile before tapping her ear. “Keep your eyes off the ladies’ rears, Glaz.”
“Lucky that you are not with them. You would fill the entire hallway.”
“Ohoho!” Gridlock chuckled, her great belly jostling. Montagne gave her a sly grin before she again tapped the transponder. “And then you’d be watching that all night, wouldn’t ya?”
“Listen, great hippo-”
“Cut the chatter!” Ash interrupted. “Radio discipline, for God’s sake. Glaz, IQ and I are moving up to 17. Montagne, you finished dressing plump princess yet?”
“Now why does she get to insult and I can’t respond?” Gridlock whined.
Montagne smiled at her. “More mature, huh?”
She blew a raspberry at him as he raised a finger to his ear.
“We are heading up now.”
“Head up to floor 18,” Ash instructed. “We can use a pincer tactic, cut them into two and mash them in the center.”
“Aye, ma’am,” he called back. “And the hostages?”
“No sight.”
“Aye. Then we are going hunting.”
“Lucky 18…” she groaned, already sounding exhausted. “Sheila’s gonna give me a heart attack.”
“I think that will be more the fault of the fatty burgers,” Montagne replied. He took point and they left the lobby, moving towards the north side of the building.
“Yeah, well, we’re going out for somethin’ to bite after this ya hear?” she growled. “Lemme treat you to the late-night Outback.”
“In the city?” he asked. Then, “And will your women be chasing you tonight as well?”
“They could be chasing us,” Gridlock winked.
That earned a chortle from the armored agent. “Well, I am sure they will catch us. I can hardly run, and you…”
“It’s… been a minute,” the fat woman puffed. She noticed the sign pointing to the stairwell, then felt her heavy chest skip a beat as they passed it by. “Err… old man? We’re are we going?”
They rounded a corner. Several steal double doors were set into the wall. “As I said, fat woman,” he good-naturedly replied, “I am nearly sixty. We are using the elevator.” He thumbed the button and the glow responded.
“They ain’t cut the power?”
******************************************************************************
Gridlock uncomfortably glanced at the load limit displayed inside of the elevator. Surely, she was nowhere near such a massive weight, even fully armored and equipped.
It must have just been her imagination that was making the steel box crawl so slow…
They reached the 18th floor and their presence was announced with a merry ding. Montagne snapped his shield open to its full length just as the door opened, and a man in gray hoodie and white mask raised a shotgun to fire.
The scattershot exploded with furious noise, although almost all of the sound ended up muffled and reflected back out by the close quarters shield, along with all of the shot. Ballistics rebounded off, catching the man in his own chest and killing him before he realized what had happened.
Montagne kicked the corpse to the side. “Razorwire setup to our 3 o’clock. There’s a shield setup, as well as several reinforced walls and doors down the length of the office.”
“How can you even see through that thing?” Gridlock asked.
He ignored her. “We’ve their attention now. They’ll be heading this way soon.”
With one hand he placed his revolver into his holster and withdrew a smoke grenade, tossing it at their feet before advancing out of the elevator.
Gridlock crouched as low as her belly would let her. She immediately realized that the low, waddling gait, was simply not going to work, with her stomach divided between both of her thighs and her legs catching fire beneath her own weight.
Instinct took over and. before she could think, the Super Shorty exploded in her hands, painting a White Mask red as he rounded the corner to open fire. Montagne advanced in a crouch, readying his pistol and firing as two more came tearing through a reinforced office. Both dropped within the six shots.
Gridlock grunted, replacing the shotgun with her SAW. The hallway was too far a distance for the Shorty to be comfortably lethal. She pulled the LMG up, only to find that she couldn’t get the stock into her shoulder. But there wasn’t time to adjust.
A quick compromise was reached, her hands forced into a secondary position and the stock poking deep into her round belly while she kept the muzzle prepared, slowly advancing behind Montagne.
“Four KIA on 18,” the big man reported.
Toward the end of the hall, a window suddenly shattered inward. A man that had been concealed in a small crevice came toppling down. “Five KIA,” Glaz greeted. “And you look even fatter in thermal, hippo.”
“Shove it up your ass, Commie.”
And then, the world beneath them exploded.
The tower rumbled as a tremendous BOOM jostled them like mad, blowing out several sets of windows and sending the heavyset pair tumbling onto the floor tiles.
“Team Leader, I see a detonation on your floor. Check check, Team Leader come in.”
Montagne took up perch, extending his shield in front of Gridlock as she rolled onto her side, trying not to feel the bruises that would definitely be marking her overweight gut. Standing was already struggle enough, and the big woman now needed to use a nearby office chair to get back to her feet.
It took Ash a few moments to come back. “Bomber down,” she grunted. “Nearly put us into a corner there.”
In a rare show of breaking protocol, IQ’s voice also came on. “Nearly put us into the grave.”
Montagne turned to Gridlock, giving her a sly look. “Lucky 18, no?”
She snorted at him, pulling herself up to her full height and adjusting the LMG that she’d just fallen on with her huge belly.
“Yes. Rise up, hippo. Now is not the time to slumber.”
Gridlock’s grin turned into a scowl. She went to the window and aimed a middle finger salute across the river to the tallest building she could see. A small glint of red light flashed at her, with a chuckle following.
“You must show us the slop you eat after this. I am beginning to feel famished.”
“I thought I told you two, radio… Shit! IQ, back up!! PUT THE DETONATOR DOWN! DROP IT!”
They could hear Ash roaring through the floor beneath them, her words screaming with rage into fear.
“Another bomber,” Montagne breathed. And then he was racing ahead, moving so fast that Gridlock could hardly keep up. She understood why. If Ash didn’t simply just shoot the man, it meant that she was already too close.
“They are south! I have no sight.”
IQ was shouting now too, first in German, then French, then stammering in broken Korean. Montagne lowered his shoulder and simply charged straight through a wooden barricade.
A man on the other side screamed as he was sent sprawling back, his weapon knocked loose.
Montagne kept moving towards Ash’s shouts.
Gridlock, gasping for air, more than aware that her shirt was shuffling up over her tummy passed over the man as he scrambled to adjust his mask. She swung a giant steel-toed boot into the hard material, shattering it against his face and dropping him as if he was double her weight down onto the floor.
Montagne cleared another barricade in the same fashion, and smoke billowed through.
The sprinklers overhead were triggered, soaking Gridlock in the most foul-smelling water she’d ever had the displeasure of being utterly doused in. She trundled after him gasping in a full lung of the stench along with a pepper of smog, which caused her almost to retch. She coughed it back out, keeping her head low.
Ahead, she saw Montagne’s boots.
Light flames licked at his heels from below. Most of the section’s floor had been torn away. He moved deftly over support beams, bouncing above the burned out remains of the first bomber’s explosion. She could hear the others clearly, and a muffled voice shouting back at them.
It was a male’s voice, striking out like lashes in harsh Japanese, one of the few languages Gridlock was fluent in.
Her gait was off center, swaying from side to side. Her chest burned with effort, legs hardly able to carry her forward. Moving more like a controlled fall than a run, her strain rolled her shirt up so much that it was only held now by the belts of her vest.
Gridlock stumbled forward, heavy boots stomping atop the damaged beams. She spotted IQ and Ash both backed against an office wall, pointing their guns at a man not five feet away. His arms were spread wide. He carried no weapon, but was strapped with plastic explosive as if it were his only clothing.
In his right hand, a detonator flashed blue and red.
“Drop it!!” Ash screamed again.
His tone was delusional, like a meth addict or some wacko cultist, screaming up to the heavens in Japanese. “{Now is the hour of the reaper’s blade! Its breath descends over us, coloring us cold, marking our fates! Now is the time for the harvest that was sown! The great beast descends from above. We are gifted with power and shall reign in eternal life at their side!}”
Gridlock bounced to another support beam. She didn’t see the cracks, hardly felt it give away beneath her massive weight until she became wedged by her belly and her ass. The air suddenly shot out of her, pain coloring her vision with deep red. She tried to catch herself with her fluffy arms, but she was lodged between the planks like a doughy pastry. Her flail sent her weapon tumbling down through the crack.
Tori was completely suspended by the power of the beams, feet waggling uselessly, arms trying to pull her back up, ass sliding down as she jiggled like a mad cow.
“{The beast!!!!}” screamed the White Mask before both of the beams collapsed, and Tori screamed in fear and pain as a cold breath swept down her neck and she shot through the floor.
And then the next floor.
And she felt the third impact on her fat legs and fatter rear before her head slammed against the floor, and then she felt nothing at all.
Above her, a shot rang out, and an explosion detonated. Rubble and dust fell onto her unconscious belly.
A pair of pained groans emanated from beneath her fat ass. Hands groped her, twisted her, and then were roughly trying to shove her prone body off of them.
Two women lay gasping for air on the ground, still pinned by the largest part of the buttery brunette’s chunky body.
Ash stared up from beneath her fractured protective glasses at the hole above them. She couldn’t think straight, unable to understand why the world had suddenly developed such a massive crack in it. Her leg was broken, as was her arm, but she was breathing.
It was all she could focus on, blinking heavily, dimly aware of the word ‘concussion.’
IQ tore off her helmet, cussing a rapid string in German as she pulled the mask from her face and breathed in the ashy air. She couldn’t sit up, and trying brought her to whimper in pain. Her pelvis was at least cracked, if not fully broken. She laid there, arms wide, before thumbing her transponder. “Glaz.”
“Receiving.”
“Dieu merci,” another voice responded. “Are you three alright down there?”
IQ saw Ash, very slowly, remove her glasses. The Team Leader blinked up at her hand and wiped at her ear.
“Send for medical,” IQ wheezed. Then she looked down at Gridlock, still laying atop them, and saw the stretchmark scarred gut billow up as the mammoth took in a deep breath. “Tell them to bring an extra wide stretcher.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The radio clicked. IQ pulled it out of her ear.
She lifted her shirt, gingerly poking at her waist.
A definite break had occurred in her pelvis. She’d be off her feet for at least a few weeks.
Another glance at Gridlock, the memory of that massive ass plowing into her chest and taking her through the floor, had her collapsed onto her back, grateful just to be alive.
The blonde poked Tori’s body, surprised by how soft and touchable the wobbling stomach was, and even oddly finding the weight of the woman on her broken waist comfortable, almost attractive. It covered her, pinning her legs to this blesseded spot on the broken ground
“Your country better have the best fucking burgers in the world. Because I am going to buy you the greasiest one I can find,” Monika promised.
