Peeking around the edge, she saw the youngest of the three men grab the teenage girl. The one who would have been safe in the stockroom had Mina not brought flowers, she reminded herself.
A stronger taste of aluminum and hint of burning in her sinuses told her to stay still and out of the way. She ignored it. This was her fault, and worse, people's lives were in danger. She assessed the situation from her hiding spot, peeking around the corner. Two had their guns out, one pointed at the girl, the other with a pistol held up, simply demonstrating its presence. The last had his hand under his jacket, but hadn't drawn yet. Two of the people in the shop only had to drop or dive to have cover, but the girl was out in the open.
Mina moved around the shelving unit to get close to the one with his gun on the girl while he argued with the woman. When she felt she was close enough, she grabbed one of the display cases and tossed it out on the floor.
Hearing the noise, the man spun. He got halfway through demanding to know who was there when Mina burst into motion. Before his finger could squeeze the trigger, Mina got to his wrist. She applied a wrist lock even as she lifted his arm up and away. His finger squeezed reflexively, sending a bullet whining past her ear. He never got off a second shot before she dislocated his wrist with a twist, then disarmed him with her other hand, breaking his thumb and pulling the gun away. Releasing her grip, she finished him with a quick pistol whipping with his own gun.
Before he'd hit the floor, she was on to the next. This one didn't even get a shot off before she'd taken the two steps to reach him and brought an open hand up under his chin in a perfect sapping blow. As he was losing consciousness, Mina shoved him towards the third, directing his fall to occupy the last assailant. She got to that one before he could get his pistol entirely out, catching hold of his wrist. A quick impulse ran her through the basics of the stance he was starting to shift into. She wasn't sure what style of kung fu he knew yet, but she was sure he had training. Keeping his hand trapped in his jacket with one hand, she kicked at the inside of his ankle, rolling it, putting him off balance. As he started to stumble, Mina directed it, her free hand grabbing the hair at the back of his head and slamming his head down on the corner of the wooden vid-store counter.
Without thinking about it, she took all of the guns, wiped her prints off, and set them on the counter. That was the point she realized there were four shop employees looking at her, stunned.
“Call the police,” she instructed firmly. As she was doing that, she heard a buzzing from the oldest man's wrist. A few moments later, there was another voice asking what was holding them up. She repeated her instructions one more time, then followed a hunch. She left the store, and its bewildered owners, and grabbed her bike. Then she headed towards the back alley.
Two buildings down, she spotted the delivery driver, holding up his own wrist near his mouth. He obviously still received no response. With a paranoid glance around, he noticed Mina, then yanked the truck door open and jumped in. The engine was still running, and he quickly tore off down the alley.
Cursing herself, Mina took off after the truck. She could still feel the burning sensation in her sinuses, but the chip still let her call up all of her new knowledge of street maps. She was pretty sure by now that the delivery truck was the failsafe measure for the people running the protection scheme. If something went wrong, duck down one alley, and they disappear into a truck just making its rounds. She'd already drawn too much attention, but hoped if all the thugs could be brought in on other charges, the director or Agent Park could at least have an excuse to interrogate them about what was going on at Lucky.
She quickly reasoned that he would be headed for the freeway. It would allow him to put some distance between himself and pursuit. The local streets had too many people wandering and would require frequent stops. She didn't think she'd be able to catch up to the truck directly, but she might be able to cut it off if she could guess its route correctly. Figuring out his most direct route to an exit, she turned down an alleyway, taking shortcuts on her bike that a larger vehicle couldn't.
Pedaling as fast as she could, she used every alley and quiet side street she could to allow her to not need to slow down. She crossed streets far away from crosswalks and lights with their monitor cameras, and headed down her best-guess intercept route. She saw the truck coming as she emerged back into heavier traffic zones, nearing the on ramp. With her bike, she couldn't cut through heavy traffic to get to him, and knew if he reached the freeway, she would lose him so she headed for the stairs of the last foot-bridge he'd have to pass under.
People jumped out of her way as she biked up the steep stairway. Reaching the top, she could just see the truck reaching the bridge. With no time to stop and assess, she let her chip handle all of the speed calculations and headed for the side of the bridge. Pedaling hard as she could to get up to speed, she pulled her feet off the pedals, stood up on her bicycle seat like some kind of stunt rider, and let her front wheel crash into the railing. The impact catapulted her off her bike and over the edge. She hit the top of the delivery truck, and immediately started rolling backwards to break her fall. The truck's momentum, combined with the instinctive breakfall, almost caused her to go falling off the back of the truck, but she managed, at the last second, to fall forward, finding a few points where metal met metal as finger-and-toe-holds.
The truck picked up speed from the ramp, making forward movement difficult. Still, she managed to find enough hand and footholds to pull herself along. She had to adjust again to keep herself from going careening off the side when the truck merged onto the freeway. Car horns blared as people tried warning the driver someone was on his truck. She did her best to stay out of his mirrors, inwardly cursing the helpfulness of the average driver.
She finally pulled herself to the front edge of the cargo container, near the cab on the passenger's side. She was almost out of breath, her arms and fingers ached, but she found enough adrenaline for one more burst of quick movement. She pulled herself forward and over the edge, managing to grab the mirror and get a hand inside the open passenger window, while her feet found the thin running board. The driver startled, turning her way. As he did, whether out of intent or simply reaction, the truck veered off the road and towards the metal roadside barrier. Mina pulled herself up and through the window just in time to keep her legs from being crushed as metal met metal.
The driver started to pull left, away from the barrier. Not wanting him back out in traffic, Mina grabbed the wheel with one hand and yanked it right, keeping them skidding along the barrier. While fighting for control of the wheel, she found the parking brake and yanked on it. With a horrendous grinding, the truck jerked, throwing both of them forward. Mina managed to stay low, crashing against the dashboard, then under it. The driver wasn't as fortunate, and his chest hit the steering wheel. As the truck skidded to a halt, Mina punched the man once under the jaw, sapping any remaining consciousness. Guided by her chip, she quickly policed the scene. Everything she'd touched was wiped, and her hands were pulled up into her delivery jacket sleeves. As other cars were stopping for a look, she pulled her arching body out of the passenger side window, hit the ground, and let herself roll into the shallow ditch. She took advantage of the spectacle of a car wreck to draw attention away from herself, heading the opposite way of most people. Her current colors had been seen clinging to the side of a truck. Using a couple larger cars for cover, she righted her jacket, fixed her hair, and tried to move without too obvious of a limp.
She could hear the police sirens approaching, which brought a new idea to mind. She called Agent Park, instead of the director. She advised him on what had just happened, without going into too many details. She figured he could make sure the driver was taken into custody, for reckless driving, if nothing else, and that he'd eventually be tied to the other people from Lucky. He wasn't happy with the attention she'd brought on herself in what was supposed to be covert duty, but he quickly set about doing his job.
She turned off her comm and started the long walk back to the bridge, hoping her bike would still be in the area. Her comm soon after started signaling she had a call from the director. Agent Park was doing his job. Mina, meanwhile, on her first day solo on the job, had just managed to do pretty much exactly everything she wasn't supposed to.
She wasn't looking forward to taking this call.