#col being forced to have morgan carry them because they fucked up their ankle in the fight

[timetravelingpigeon]

Excerpt: The Life and Life and Life of a Time Traveling Pigeon

In Which Columba Makes a Break For It

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The going was slow as we meandered about, trying to escape detection. Dr. Tanner had spent much of the night being forced to learn how to avoid the Men in Black’s gaze, and he was putting those skills to good use now. We kept off the streets for most of it, ducking in and out of alleyways, in no small part due to the fact that a couple of college students who looked like they’d just lost a boxing match were something of a noticeable target.

A lot of it passed in a blur for me, between the pain and the last few dregs of adrenaline in my system. Eventually (after a very harrowing fence jump,) we found ourselves underground. It looked like some sort of utility access tunnel, probably for the subway system, but could have served any number of infrastructure needs. The only thing that mattered for our purposes was that it was out of sight from both the street and the air.

As the light from the city outside began to fade, Riley pulled out her cellphone to use as an impromptu flashlight. It was a cheap, bottom-of-the-barrel flip phone, and its glow was barely enough to keep her from tripping over her own feet in the gloom.

Speaking of, we’d come upon a door of some sort, only really distinguishable by the dull reflections off the metallic handle. Riley muttered something about a dead end, and I was about a half-second away from offering up my lock-picking abilities. Sure, I didn’t have any sort of tools on me; and my dominant hand was kinda fucked up; and if this was a city-owned, utility-workers-only sort of thing, it was probably above my skill level anyway, but—

Dr. Tanner simply placed one hand by the handle, pushed, and the door broke open with the too-loud metallic crack of the entire latch mechanism being shattered by the force.

Right. Superpowers.

Well, that thing’s never locking again.

The doorway opened up into a small room that was little more than a glorified closet, the walls lined with an eclectic mix of cables, pipes, meters, levers, and valves. A pervasive hum filled the air, and (once I’d found a suitably flat patch to lean against,) I could feel it likewise through the walls. It was decent enough white noise, I suppose, and the space was big enough for all three of us to fit comfortably, so it would work for us to catch our breath, mentally and physically.

There was a light switch just inside, but Dr. Tanner advised against turning it on; he didn’t know if the light would be visible from the mouth of the tunnel, but it probably wasn’t a good idea to show that there was a room down here, much less one that’s currently occupied.

And so there we were: me, my best friend, and the superpowered mad scientist that was apparently her brother, all lit only by the glow of a cheap-ass cellphone.

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