Sarah prodded at the wall with gloved fingertips, searching the faint indentations for a loose wire. The chuckle from that drifted from the darkness like a wolfhound's growl sent the lanky engineer leaping backwards in surprise, tumbling from the table in a cascade of limbs and faded red tablecloth. She rubbed her elbows, trying to drive the bruises from her arms. And the worst part was that it hadn't even been a good pun.
White light flashed a circle on the Embassy's carefully-maintained ceiling, and she traced the beam back to a grinning face. After a quick pat of the ground around her confirmed that she did not, in fact, have anything to throw at it, she contented herself with moving the toolbox from where it was digging into her spine and sat up, blue eyes blinking in the darkness.
"Michael." The name sounded familiar. It was a moment before she made the connection. "Wallgau, right? Ex-military boat, with the hardwired targeting systems. It's a nice bird. I saw it down on bay four." She added hastily, fishing around in the box for her own light. "Yeah, I'm Sparks. Or Sarah, if you prefer. I didn't know I had a reputation already. Guess that's something to be proud of. What're you doing here? I mean, besides trying to break my spine." The torch flashed on in her hand, illuminating an upturned table and a liberal sprinkling of circuit breakers on the wall, two of which were pulsing an angry red.
"This is really sort of a personal project of mine."
- James Arland, on single-handedly engaging an enemy regiment.
