Blasted Past: Part Ten

Ms. Madison came to on a very hard concrete floor. She groaned, looking around her at a scene of dereliction. She lay on a rickety old camp bed, and could only conclude that she was being held in some sort of old fortress. Rising, she heard no-one. Barefoot and without her jacket, she was otherwise untouched, although the dull pain in her head reminded her that she had been drugged. The experience did not improve with repetition.

Padding to the door of her cell, she found it unlocked. Opening it, she found herself in an ancient gun battery, looking out at the grey sea. And the coast, too far for her to be able to swim it. She shook her head. Whoever the enemy was, they had clearly put her here in isolation. And why not, after what she had told the man at the marina?

She wandered through the empty passages of the fort. It would have been perfect as a secret headquarters, but it seemed to be utterly deserted, littered with the rubble left when the army (or navy, she wasn't sure which) had decommissioned it.

Leaving the casements, she made her way gingerly past various bits of rubble, heading for the command post at the centre of the fort. A chill breeze caused her to shiver, hugging her arms to her. She shook her head, wishing that they had left her her jacket. After all, it wasn't like it contained an escape kit or anything. Unlike her shoes, which had contained a hidden radio.

But that was a matter for another time. She tried the door of the command post and found it open. Unlike the others, however, this one seemed to have had its lock picked recently. Heartbeat quickening, she slipped through the door. Ahead of her, she saw a man lying on his back, still alive but out cold and tied up with his own belt.

She stepped over him, seeing the blinking of electric lights. There, in the middle of the old fort, was a modern communications relay. And someone was bent over it, doing something, almost invisible in the darkness. Ms. Madison approached stealthily, preparing to knock them out.

Before she could strike, however, the figure turned, raising their own hands, slender hands encased in black leather gauntlets. The light fell across a face, golden hair gleaning in the light. Red lips opened in an expression of surprise.

Ms. Madison gasped. She found herself looking into the eyes of someone she had only ever seen in pictures.

Sparrowhawk!