When One Door Closes...

wolframdioxide

Amateur author. Mainly focussed on science fiction and urban fantasy.


A moment passed, for Matt Quyen, where he was uncertain if he had gone from standing to lying on his chest, about a story lower, with a few broken ribs and ringing in his ears, in one unbroken sequence, or if he had lain there for minutes or hours. His vest, laden with sensors, informed him of his injuries.

He stood up, an ungodly pain in his chest, and limped forward. A few officers - those still conscious and mobile - followed him. It was time to end this.

Meanwhile, the team collectively ran down the fire escape, the rhythmic thumping of their feet jangling rust off the steps. They approached the third-floor landing - the first two there clipped pulleys onto the handrails and abseiled down, followed by the rest.

The police burst into the office too late. It was deserted, and would look utterly normal if not for the busted safes and filing cabinets. Still, Quyen and his cohort spread out, looking for clues.

One of them came across a monitor. He swore. "I know what they're taking, and it's not money..."


Comments (1 so far!)

ethelthefrog

ethelthefrog

I love the description in the first paragraph. It's great to have a slight pause in the action before plunging forward.

Personally, I'd lose the first comma, but that's probably a matter of preference.

I look forward to more action...

  • #892 Posted 3 years ago
  • 0

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