Vampires vs. Zombies PRT- 35 of 38
Oct. 21st, 2012 12:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
r4punz3lTitle: Vampires vs. Zombies PRT
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter Summary: In which the fighting escalates.
Disclaimer: #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement
All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Word Count: ~2200
Author's Note: Continued thanks tothemistoklis for beta-reading and constructive suggestions.
Previous chapters
Chapter 35
From the booth of Studio 10A, Frank Parker watched nervously. He knew that Ivy was coming, and that she had a hostage with her. What he didn’t know was how this was going to play out, or how he could help her.
Down in the studio, the old man and the two young women waited patiently. Beck sat at the desk, hands folding tightly. Either the man was nervous, or he was praying. Frank doubted it was prayer. The old woman stood out of the pool of light that flooded the desk, but she was still plainly visible as she sat in a folding chair near a camera.
Beck and Orly were living people, mostly, and didn’t hold much interest for Frank. The three newcomers were much more interesting to his eyes. The old man in particular. Like all the living, he had a silver chain connecting body and soul. What made the old man different, though, was that his chain trailed off and away from his body, twisted with the old woman’s chain. It looked like two finely wrought necklaces had become tangled in a jewelry box. Frank remembered when that had happened to Miranda. It had always taken hours to undo the knots. Looking at the twisted chains between the old couple, Frank doubted they could ever be separated.
A knock on the door startled him back to the present scene.
“Who’s there?” Beck called out.
“Glenn, it’s me,” Bill O’Reilly’s voice called out. “Let me in, please.”
Beck stood up from the desk, but froze at a gesture from the old woman. “It’s a trap,” she said.
“No, more like a negotiating ploy,” Ivy’s voice rang out. “But if you’d rather burn, that’s fine with me.”
“What does she mean, burn?” Beck asked. “Orly, what is she talking about?”
“She’s bluffing,” Orly said. “There’s nothing to burn here.”
“Where the hell have you been, lady?” Ivy called back. “Office carpeting burns wonderfully. Releases a toxic gas, too. Really unpleasant way to go, but hey, who am I to judge?”
“Come in!” Beck called, stand up from the desk. “For God’s sake, Orly, let them in.”
“Fine,” Orly said. She gestured, and the two female shapes opened the doors, retreating behind them to stay hidden.
Ivy strode into the room, O’Reilly’s tie wrapped in one hand, and axe in the other. “Hello!” Ivy called out. She pointed at Beck with the axe. “My name is Ivy Parker. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
The room was silent. Frank watched as Orly’s lips twisted into a dark smile. “Foolish child,” she said. “Did you really think it would be that easy? Bill, step away from her.”
“I can’t,” Bill said. “She’s choking me.”
“I am,” Ivy said. “I don’t understand who thought it was a good idea for guys to wear little nooses around their necks, but it certainly makes things much easier.”
“Bill, step away,” Beck said. “Please.” O’Reilly just shook his head. “Young lady,” Beck began.
“Ivy,” Ivy interrupted. “My name is Ivy.”
“Ivy,” Beck said, starting again. “I’m sorry about your father. But please, don’t take it out on my friend.”
“That sounds utterly ridiculous,” Ivy said. “You hurt everyone I know, and a lot of people I don’t. It only seems fair that I should get to hurt as many people close to you as I can.”
“Don’t be wrathful,” Beck said. His tone was an odd combination of plea and command. Ivy felt her hand wavering on O’Reilly’s tie. She clenched the strip of fabric tighter, pulling harder on O’Reilly’s throat.
“Don’t you dare try that brainwashing on me,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Orly snapped. “George, kill her.”
George stepped out from his place in the shadows. He moved quickly, but Ivy was faster. She slipped away from his grasping hands, still keeping a tight grip on O’Reilly’s tie. O’Reilly stumbled as Ivy danced out of the way, putting himself directly in George’s path.
George’s hands closed around O’Reilly’s neck and squeezed tight. O’Reilly spluttered, face turning a bright red. Ivy let go of the tie and raised her axe.
“No!” Beck shouted. “George, stop! Stop right now!”
George immediately dropped O’Reilly, who sank to the ground coughing. Ivy couldn’t stop her swing, and brought her axe down through now-empty air. She was throw off-balance for just a moment. Orly stepped forward just them and shoved the girl, hard. Ivy fell backwards over O’Reilly’s crouched form, and landed on her back.
“Oh, shit,” she cried.
“Language, missy,” Orly chided. She held out her hand. “Give me the axe, dear. You might hurt someone with that.”
“That’s the idea,” Ivy said. She gripped the axe tightly and shut her eyes. She could feel Orly battering at her mind, certain that she would soon get in.
The lights in the studio went out, plunging the room into total darkness.
“What the hell is going on?” Beck yelled. “Orly, what did you do?”
“Nothing!” Orly shouted back. Ivy felt her opponent turn to yell directly at Beck. She used that moment to carefully inch away.
The studio lights were out, but the indicator lights on the equipment were still on. A few blinked in a sequence, like chaser Christmas lights. Ivy rolled onto her stomach and followed the lights. She remembered the door being over this way, somewhere. She reached out with her fingers and gently brushed something flat and solid in front of her.
Close your eyes, an inner voice whispered. Ivy recognized that voice. She had fought with it before, and it had never led her wrong. She closed her eyes, just as the lights came back on, blinding everyone else in the studio.
“She’s escaping!” One of the scary models shouted. “Mistress, she’s escaping!”
Ivy shoved the door open and ran out into the hallway, eyes still closed, as footsteps pounded behind her.
&&&
“Now?” Stephen asked. He was crouched at the top of the stairs, waiting for Ivy’s signal to attack.
“Not yet,” Jon said. “She said we’d hear it when she was ready.”
“I still think this is a bad idea,” Rebecca muttered.
“We all do,” Jon replied. “But no one had any other suggestions.” He glanced down at the landing, where Rachel still stood, her eyes closed. “Rach,” he called softly. “How’s it going?”
Rachel grunted and batted her hand at him. “They don’t move all that fast, you know,” she said. “I’m trying to get only my guys through.”
“Is that working?” Stephen asked.
“No,” Rachel said flatly. “My guys have to kill- uh, I mean, get rid of, the bad guys before they can come up.”
“That’s sweet,” Rebecca said. “But you don’t have to be that precise. Just get them up here, I don’t care who they started with.”
“If they started as Beck’s they’ll try to kill us,” Rachel said, glaring with her eyes closed.
“Maybe,” Rebecca countered. “Or, maybe with the addition of zombies, we create some delightful chaos.” She stopped suddenly. “That was weird.”
“What was weird? You’ve been advocating wholesale carnage since we met,” Stephen said.
“Killing zombies, yes,” Adam said. He looked at Rebecca closely. “Not general mayhem. Are you all right?”
“Do I have a choice?” Rebecca asked. “Ugh,” she said, shaking her head. “Why is that stupid redheaded intern in my head?”
“She was weird,” Jon admitted. Before he could continue, muffled shouts broke out inside the studio. Stephen tensed, ready to go.
But before he could go anywhere, the studio door slammed open, and Ivy burst out. “Run!” she yelled, sprinting straight for them.
Jon pressed himself against the wall inside the doorway, dragging Stephen with him. Ivy bolted past them both, and headed up the stairs.
“What happened?”
“It didn’t work,” Ivy said. “Or it worked too well. I don’t know. Either way, they’re coming.”
“Oh, great!” Rebecca shouted. She grabbed Adam’s arm and yanked him up the stair after her.
Rachel swore and brought up the rear. She could feel a barrier between herself and her followers. They, and the unfriendly zombies, knew there was something going on in here, and they were working themselves into a frenzy over it. The barrier only drove them wilder, kept back from delicious targets. Rachel had been trying to worm her smaller force through without letting in anyone else. Now, in a burst of frustration and rage, she slammed against the barrier. She felt it tremble, and grinned. She focused another burst of attention at it, and the barrier shattered. A low moaning reached her ears: the zombies were coming, as fast as they could.
Rachel smiled and took off up the stairs after her friends.
&&&
Inside the studio, Demetrius watched as Beck and Orly turned on each other. It was amusing to watch, but it left the girl an opportunity to escape. Demetrius felt a faint presence slip through the air near him, into and out of several pieces of television equipment.
A ghost, the elder vampire thought. It does not pay to neglect those of lesser power. They are more creative, and more clannish, than one realizes. His thoughts shifted back to the present. Beck and Orly shouted at their minions, and then gave chase. George was the last to leave the studio.
As Demetrius prepared to jump to another shadow, he sensed something—someone—else in the studio. The ghost had left with the girl, so who was it? A moment later, Demetrius could taste gunpowder in the air. He chuckled softly. “Come out, my dear,” he said.
“That’s really not the best way to address me, you know,” a woman answered. Her hair was bright red, and she was dressed in the casual manner of the studio’s interns. She wore a badge with the name “Waugh,” printed on it. “After all, I have been around long before your kind.”
“Ah, but your face is as bright and youthful as ever,” Demetrius said gallantly. “Are you meddling in this affair?”
Waugh shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “My part in this is nearly done. I’m just waiting for my sister to pick up the pieces.”
“And high-value pieces at that,” Demetrius noted.
Waugh shrugged again. “Doesn’t really matter to me,” she said.
“But it does matter to me,” Demetrius said. “Please, let them turn on each other, on their own. I have a vested interest in the outcome of this battle.”
Waugh laughed, a mirthful chuckle that echoed faintly with screams of agony. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m leaving. See you next time, Demetrius.”
If Demetrius was startled that she knew his name, he didn’t show it. “It’s been a pleasure,” he said, slipping through the shadows.
&&&
“Are we going all the way to the roof?” Stephen gasped ad he pounded up the stairs after Ivy.
“Yes,” Ivy panted back. “It’s still daylight, right? I’m hoping that means these freaks won’t be able to follow.”
“Beck isn’t actually dead, though,” Jon puffed.
“But he’s all middle-aged and doughy,” Ivy said. “Oh, sorry.” Jon grimaced, but didn’t reply.
“Less talking, more running!” Rebecca called. “They’re getting closer.”
Ivy ducked her head and pushed harder, rounding another corner and throwing herself up the next flight of stairs. “How many floors are there?” she asked Jon.
“Fourteen,” Jon answered. “We’re almost there.” He pointed at the label painted on the landing above them.
“M?” Ivy said. She slowed to look at the letter more closely. Stephen gently shoved her from behind, and she raced on. “They called this floor M?”
“Thirteen’s unlucky,” Adam called from behind her. “And M is the thirteenth letter of the alphabet.”
“And now we’re passed it,” Rachel said. She stopped, turned, and kicked hard at the woman on the stairs right below her. Her foot connected solidly with the woman’s nose, and she stumbled back into her fellow minions, knocking them back to the M floor.
Ivy took a deep breath.. Her feet ached, and her calves burned as she pushed herself up the final flight, and straight into the door to the roof. She slammed into it at full speed, and bounced back, stumbling into Stephen’s arms. He caught her, and Jon caught him, limiting the domino effect.
“It’s locked?” Ivy said, her voice desperate.
“Let me,” Adam said, threading his way through the group. He examined the door, adjusted something near the base, and then kicked as hard as he could at the bar across the middle. The door banged open.
“You are awesome!” Ivy cried as she ran past Adam and onto the roof. She looked up at the sky and groaned.
It was still daylight, but there were taller buildings around the Fox building. The sun was on its descent, and soon, it would be blocked by the taller structures. Already, long shadows fell across the roof in thick stripes.
“Shit,” Ivy said.
“We’d better win this fast, then,” Stephen said. He stepped out onto the center of the roof and turned to face the door, his sword at the ready. Jon stood beside the younger man, his gun at the ready.
“Here,” Rebecca called, tossing Jon a small box. “That’s the last of the ammunition.” She walked over to Ivy. Adam followed. Rachel emerged last, squinting at the light. “You all right?” Rebecca asked.
“It’s not especially pleasant,” Rachel said. “I’d rather not be out here, really. So let’s do this quick and get it over with.”
“As you wish,” Ivy said, as footsteps sounded within the stairwell.
“We really should have locked that,” Adam commented to himself.
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter Summary: In which the fighting escalates.
Disclaimer: #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement
All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Word Count: ~2200
Author's Note: Continued thanks to
themistoklis for beta-reading and constructive suggestions.Previous chapters
Chapter 35
From the booth of Studio 10A, Frank Parker watched nervously. He knew that Ivy was coming, and that she had a hostage with her. What he didn’t know was how this was going to play out, or how he could help her.
Down in the studio, the old man and the two young women waited patiently. Beck sat at the desk, hands folding tightly. Either the man was nervous, or he was praying. Frank doubted it was prayer. The old woman stood out of the pool of light that flooded the desk, but she was still plainly visible as she sat in a folding chair near a camera.
Beck and Orly were living people, mostly, and didn’t hold much interest for Frank. The three newcomers were much more interesting to his eyes. The old man in particular. Like all the living, he had a silver chain connecting body and soul. What made the old man different, though, was that his chain trailed off and away from his body, twisted with the old woman’s chain. It looked like two finely wrought necklaces had become tangled in a jewelry box. Frank remembered when that had happened to Miranda. It had always taken hours to undo the knots. Looking at the twisted chains between the old couple, Frank doubted they could ever be separated.
A knock on the door startled him back to the present scene.
“Who’s there?” Beck called out.
“Glenn, it’s me,” Bill O’Reilly’s voice called out. “Let me in, please.”
Beck stood up from the desk, but froze at a gesture from the old woman. “It’s a trap,” she said.
“No, more like a negotiating ploy,” Ivy’s voice rang out. “But if you’d rather burn, that’s fine with me.”
“What does she mean, burn?” Beck asked. “Orly, what is she talking about?”
“She’s bluffing,” Orly said. “There’s nothing to burn here.”
“Where the hell have you been, lady?” Ivy called back. “Office carpeting burns wonderfully. Releases a toxic gas, too. Really unpleasant way to go, but hey, who am I to judge?”
“Come in!” Beck called, stand up from the desk. “For God’s sake, Orly, let them in.”
“Fine,” Orly said. She gestured, and the two female shapes opened the doors, retreating behind them to stay hidden.
Ivy strode into the room, O’Reilly’s tie wrapped in one hand, and axe in the other. “Hello!” Ivy called out. She pointed at Beck with the axe. “My name is Ivy Parker. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
The room was silent. Frank watched as Orly’s lips twisted into a dark smile. “Foolish child,” she said. “Did you really think it would be that easy? Bill, step away from her.”
“I can’t,” Bill said. “She’s choking me.”
“I am,” Ivy said. “I don’t understand who thought it was a good idea for guys to wear little nooses around their necks, but it certainly makes things much easier.”
“Bill, step away,” Beck said. “Please.” O’Reilly just shook his head. “Young lady,” Beck began.
“Ivy,” Ivy interrupted. “My name is Ivy.”
“Ivy,” Beck said, starting again. “I’m sorry about your father. But please, don’t take it out on my friend.”
“That sounds utterly ridiculous,” Ivy said. “You hurt everyone I know, and a lot of people I don’t. It only seems fair that I should get to hurt as many people close to you as I can.”
“Don’t be wrathful,” Beck said. His tone was an odd combination of plea and command. Ivy felt her hand wavering on O’Reilly’s tie. She clenched the strip of fabric tighter, pulling harder on O’Reilly’s throat.
“Don’t you dare try that brainwashing on me,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Orly snapped. “George, kill her.”
George stepped out from his place in the shadows. He moved quickly, but Ivy was faster. She slipped away from his grasping hands, still keeping a tight grip on O’Reilly’s tie. O’Reilly stumbled as Ivy danced out of the way, putting himself directly in George’s path.
George’s hands closed around O’Reilly’s neck and squeezed tight. O’Reilly spluttered, face turning a bright red. Ivy let go of the tie and raised her axe.
“No!” Beck shouted. “George, stop! Stop right now!”
George immediately dropped O’Reilly, who sank to the ground coughing. Ivy couldn’t stop her swing, and brought her axe down through now-empty air. She was throw off-balance for just a moment. Orly stepped forward just them and shoved the girl, hard. Ivy fell backwards over O’Reilly’s crouched form, and landed on her back.
“Oh, shit,” she cried.
“Language, missy,” Orly chided. She held out her hand. “Give me the axe, dear. You might hurt someone with that.”
“That’s the idea,” Ivy said. She gripped the axe tightly and shut her eyes. She could feel Orly battering at her mind, certain that she would soon get in.
The lights in the studio went out, plunging the room into total darkness.
“What the hell is going on?” Beck yelled. “Orly, what did you do?”
“Nothing!” Orly shouted back. Ivy felt her opponent turn to yell directly at Beck. She used that moment to carefully inch away.
The studio lights were out, but the indicator lights on the equipment were still on. A few blinked in a sequence, like chaser Christmas lights. Ivy rolled onto her stomach and followed the lights. She remembered the door being over this way, somewhere. She reached out with her fingers and gently brushed something flat and solid in front of her.
Close your eyes, an inner voice whispered. Ivy recognized that voice. She had fought with it before, and it had never led her wrong. She closed her eyes, just as the lights came back on, blinding everyone else in the studio.
“She’s escaping!” One of the scary models shouted. “Mistress, she’s escaping!”
Ivy shoved the door open and ran out into the hallway, eyes still closed, as footsteps pounded behind her.
&&&
“Now?” Stephen asked. He was crouched at the top of the stairs, waiting for Ivy’s signal to attack.
“Not yet,” Jon said. “She said we’d hear it when she was ready.”
“I still think this is a bad idea,” Rebecca muttered.
“We all do,” Jon replied. “But no one had any other suggestions.” He glanced down at the landing, where Rachel still stood, her eyes closed. “Rach,” he called softly. “How’s it going?”
Rachel grunted and batted her hand at him. “They don’t move all that fast, you know,” she said. “I’m trying to get only my guys through.”
“Is that working?” Stephen asked.
“No,” Rachel said flatly. “My guys have to kill- uh, I mean, get rid of, the bad guys before they can come up.”
“That’s sweet,” Rebecca said. “But you don’t have to be that precise. Just get them up here, I don’t care who they started with.”
“If they started as Beck’s they’ll try to kill us,” Rachel said, glaring with her eyes closed.
“Maybe,” Rebecca countered. “Or, maybe with the addition of zombies, we create some delightful chaos.” She stopped suddenly. “That was weird.”
“What was weird? You’ve been advocating wholesale carnage since we met,” Stephen said.
“Killing zombies, yes,” Adam said. He looked at Rebecca closely. “Not general mayhem. Are you all right?”
“Do I have a choice?” Rebecca asked. “Ugh,” she said, shaking her head. “Why is that stupid redheaded intern in my head?”
“She was weird,” Jon admitted. Before he could continue, muffled shouts broke out inside the studio. Stephen tensed, ready to go.
But before he could go anywhere, the studio door slammed open, and Ivy burst out. “Run!” she yelled, sprinting straight for them.
Jon pressed himself against the wall inside the doorway, dragging Stephen with him. Ivy bolted past them both, and headed up the stairs.
“What happened?”
“It didn’t work,” Ivy said. “Or it worked too well. I don’t know. Either way, they’re coming.”
“Oh, great!” Rebecca shouted. She grabbed Adam’s arm and yanked him up the stair after her.
Rachel swore and brought up the rear. She could feel a barrier between herself and her followers. They, and the unfriendly zombies, knew there was something going on in here, and they were working themselves into a frenzy over it. The barrier only drove them wilder, kept back from delicious targets. Rachel had been trying to worm her smaller force through without letting in anyone else. Now, in a burst of frustration and rage, she slammed against the barrier. She felt it tremble, and grinned. She focused another burst of attention at it, and the barrier shattered. A low moaning reached her ears: the zombies were coming, as fast as they could.
Rachel smiled and took off up the stairs after her friends.
&&&
Inside the studio, Demetrius watched as Beck and Orly turned on each other. It was amusing to watch, but it left the girl an opportunity to escape. Demetrius felt a faint presence slip through the air near him, into and out of several pieces of television equipment.
A ghost, the elder vampire thought. It does not pay to neglect those of lesser power. They are more creative, and more clannish, than one realizes. His thoughts shifted back to the present. Beck and Orly shouted at their minions, and then gave chase. George was the last to leave the studio.
As Demetrius prepared to jump to another shadow, he sensed something—someone—else in the studio. The ghost had left with the girl, so who was it? A moment later, Demetrius could taste gunpowder in the air. He chuckled softly. “Come out, my dear,” he said.
“That’s really not the best way to address me, you know,” a woman answered. Her hair was bright red, and she was dressed in the casual manner of the studio’s interns. She wore a badge with the name “Waugh,” printed on it. “After all, I have been around long before your kind.”
“Ah, but your face is as bright and youthful as ever,” Demetrius said gallantly. “Are you meddling in this affair?”
Waugh shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “My part in this is nearly done. I’m just waiting for my sister to pick up the pieces.”
“And high-value pieces at that,” Demetrius noted.
Waugh shrugged again. “Doesn’t really matter to me,” she said.
“But it does matter to me,” Demetrius said. “Please, let them turn on each other, on their own. I have a vested interest in the outcome of this battle.”
Waugh laughed, a mirthful chuckle that echoed faintly with screams of agony. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m leaving. See you next time, Demetrius.”
If Demetrius was startled that she knew his name, he didn’t show it. “It’s been a pleasure,” he said, slipping through the shadows.
&&&
“Are we going all the way to the roof?” Stephen gasped ad he pounded up the stairs after Ivy.
“Yes,” Ivy panted back. “It’s still daylight, right? I’m hoping that means these freaks won’t be able to follow.”
“Beck isn’t actually dead, though,” Jon puffed.
“But he’s all middle-aged and doughy,” Ivy said. “Oh, sorry.” Jon grimaced, but didn’t reply.
“Less talking, more running!” Rebecca called. “They’re getting closer.”
Ivy ducked her head and pushed harder, rounding another corner and throwing herself up the next flight of stairs. “How many floors are there?” she asked Jon.
“Fourteen,” Jon answered. “We’re almost there.” He pointed at the label painted on the landing above them.
“M?” Ivy said. She slowed to look at the letter more closely. Stephen gently shoved her from behind, and she raced on. “They called this floor M?”
“Thirteen’s unlucky,” Adam called from behind her. “And M is the thirteenth letter of the alphabet.”
“And now we’re passed it,” Rachel said. She stopped, turned, and kicked hard at the woman on the stairs right below her. Her foot connected solidly with the woman’s nose, and she stumbled back into her fellow minions, knocking them back to the M floor.
Ivy took a deep breath.. Her feet ached, and her calves burned as she pushed herself up the final flight, and straight into the door to the roof. She slammed into it at full speed, and bounced back, stumbling into Stephen’s arms. He caught her, and Jon caught him, limiting the domino effect.
“It’s locked?” Ivy said, her voice desperate.
“Let me,” Adam said, threading his way through the group. He examined the door, adjusted something near the base, and then kicked as hard as he could at the bar across the middle. The door banged open.
“You are awesome!” Ivy cried as she ran past Adam and onto the roof. She looked up at the sky and groaned.
It was still daylight, but there were taller buildings around the Fox building. The sun was on its descent, and soon, it would be blocked by the taller structures. Already, long shadows fell across the roof in thick stripes.
“Shit,” Ivy said.
“We’d better win this fast, then,” Stephen said. He stepped out onto the center of the roof and turned to face the door, his sword at the ready. Jon stood beside the younger man, his gun at the ready.
“Here,” Rebecca called, tossing Jon a small box. “That’s the last of the ammunition.” She walked over to Ivy. Adam followed. Rachel emerged last, squinting at the light. “You all right?” Rebecca asked.
“It’s not especially pleasant,” Rachel said. “I’d rather not be out here, really. So let’s do this quick and get it over with.”
“As you wish,” Ivy said, as footsteps sounded within the stairwell.
“We really should have locked that,” Adam commented to himself.
