Saturday had taken the high road, climbing a tree to the roof, then jumping across. Roof access was always easier. For a formerly-arboreal species, metahumanity sure did have trouble remembering to look up.
Once across, she'd found a skylight with the lock long since rusted shut. But the metal had warped a little, with exposure, just enough to wiggle the tip of her crowbar in, once she'd gotten it good and greased. Both the crowbar and the lubricant were courtesy of her assigned-father's garage.
Then she'd dropped down to the catwalk without thinking, landing hard and scraping her shin and having to bite back an outcry when it hurt. She hadn't botched a landing since she was six - hadn't had pain actually hurt since she was seven. When the wave was done rolling over her, she'd bitten the thin top layer of skin off her lips. She licks them, soothing the ache briefly, and freezes at the sound of movement far below.
Carefully, she leans over the side. There's a beam of light passing over the dusty racks, illuminating cargo containers. She can't see who's casting it, though, which is why she ever so softly slinks, low and slow, down to the edge of the nearest broken staircase, planning to see the flashlight person before they see her. It's probably one of her people, but why take a chance?
Re: ABANDONED FACTORY - Wrath and Saturday
Once across, she'd found a skylight with the lock long since rusted shut. But the metal had warped a little, with exposure, just enough to wiggle the tip of her crowbar in, once she'd gotten it good and greased. Both the crowbar and the lubricant were courtesy of her assigned-father's garage.
Then she'd dropped down to the catwalk without thinking, landing hard and scraping her shin and having to bite back an outcry when it hurt. She hadn't botched a landing since she was six - hadn't had pain actually hurt since she was seven. When the wave was done rolling over her, she'd bitten the thin top layer of skin off her lips. She licks them, soothing the ache briefly, and freezes at the sound of movement far below.
Carefully, she leans over the side. There's a beam of light passing over the dusty racks, illuminating cargo containers. She can't see who's casting it, though, which is why she ever so softly slinks, low and slow, down to the edge of the nearest broken staircase, planning to see the flashlight person before they see her. It's probably one of her people, but why take a chance?