Chapter Text
“Move!” Sameen Shaw shouted as she pushed her way through a crowd of eager bargain shoppers. Her number was about twenty yards ahead of her and was gaining distance fast.
“Martin Alscott is gaining speed,” The Machine noted through her earpiece. “He has increased the distance between you by six meters.”
“I’ve noticed,” Shaw grumbled. Who knew the nebbish little embezzler was an avid runner? Well, the micro-chipped pain in her ass probably did, but hadn’t felt the need to share that tiny detail. Though his unexpected exercise routine wasn’t the only reason for Martin’s so far successful flight from Shaw’s custody. “Street’s a little crowded.” Black Friday shoppers were out in force this year apparently.
“Crowd density should diminish once you run three more blocks.”
“Great.”
Fortunately for Shaw, Martin, in addition to being a crap criminal, held no sense of style what so ever. The lime green, puffy coat he wore shone like a homing beacon as he bobbed and weaved across the sidewalk ahead. Shaw was pretty sure that thing was visible from space. Martin was nearing the end of the block, just two more storefronts to go. If Shaw was lucky, the traffic light would hold him up on the cross street.
Although…
“Any chance you can give him a red light?”
“Already done.”
Shaw smirked and picked up her pace. The hoard was starting to thin out. This jackass was as good as caught.
Her victory was short lived. Just as Martin ran past the last shop, two men holding what looked like an artificial Christmas tree on steroids between them charged out of the door. “Move,” Shaw shouted as she kept running towards them. The men turned their heads to gape at her. “Move!” At her shout, one bobbled the lower half of the tree in his hands, which caused the man holding the top half to stumble forward, in turn causing the stump to hit the first man in the stomach. That guy stopped walking and bent half over the stupid tree to catch his breath. Their bumbling served only to block even more of the sidewalk.
“Every moron in New York is out in force today,” Shaw huffed. Without breaking her stride, she hit the ground and rolled under the festive fools’ tree. She tried not to think about what horrors she was most likely rolling in.
Oh well. She was wearing Root’s jacket anyway.
“Holy shit,” one of the idiots muttered as she popped back up and continued running after her target.
Unfortunately, having to avoid becoming part of the decorations had slowed Shaw significantly enough that Martin had already managed to cross the street up ahead. She growled under her breath as she pushed herself harder to close the ever-growing distance. Stupid number. Stupid shoppers. Stupid fake plastic trees.
“He’s getting away.”
Shaw reached the end of the block and briefly looked both ways before charging into the crosswalk, despite the flashing no walking sign. She dared someone to hit her. “No, no he is not.”
“The sixty meters between you would suggest differently.”
“Just make sure you don’t lose him.”
“I’ve,” The Machine managed to stretch the word into several syllables, “always had him.”
“You get more like Root every day. It’s not cute.”
“She thinks it’s adorable.”
Like that meant anything good. “She also thinks waterboarding is adorable,” Shaw scoffed as she sidestepped a woman walking three pomeranians.
“That is…concerning.”
“And now you sound like Finch.”
“He did raise me so to speak.”
Again Shaw didn’t think that was a point in The Machine’s favor. “It’s a wonder you’ve never gone full on murder-bot.”
“What was that?”
Shaw opted to change the subject, “Where’s the number now?” She felt like she should have caught up to him by now. No way that little twerp had that much stamina.
“He stopped.”
“You couldn’t have told me that sooner?”
“You seemed busy.”
She tightened her jaw. How pissed would Root be if she were to dump a Slurpee on a hard drive or two? Purely accidentally of course.
“Where is he?” Shaw ground out through clenched teeth.
“Fifty meters.”
“Yeah, okay.” Shaw ran just a little bit harder. There was barely a crowd anymore but she didn’t want to push her luck. Martin had stopped for a reason, and she intended to make him pay for it.
“Forty-three meters.”
“Are you seriously going to keep doing this?”
“Recalculating...”
“Oh for the love of,” Shaw growled. “Just tell me if he starts moving again.”
She ran for a blissful few moments of silence, well as silent as a New York sidewalk in the middle of the afternoon could be, when The Machine got chatty once again, “Turn left!”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
Shaw followed instructions, immediately veering left into a small alleyway. It was just barely wide enough to let a car through. She didn’t immediately see Martin though. “Where is he?”
“The alley opens into a private parking area on the other end. The buildings have passcode protected locks. No other way out.”
The moron trapped himself. Perfect. “See, I told you I’d catch him.”
“You haven’t yet.”
“Details.”
“Who is becoming more like Root exactly?”
“I will take a hammer to your servers.”
“Rude.”
“A big one.” Shaw skid to a stop at the opposite end of the alley as she noticed Martin and his puffy green monstrosity of a coat lying still on the wet pavement a few feet away. “What the…”
“Poor boy tripped and smacked his head on that Audi’s bumper.”
Shaw looked skyward as she let out a breath. “Root.” She heard the telltale clack of heels on pavement. “What are you doing here?”
“Making sure your number didn’t get away.”
Shaw lowered her gaze to glare at her companion. “I had that.”
“Oh I know, Sweetie,” Root smirked.
“I did.”
“Sure.”
“You’re not cute.”
“Are you going to take a hammer to my servers if I argue that point?”
Shaw shook her head as she turned and began to walk away.
“Wait, where are you going? Don’t be so grumpy Sameen. It’s Christmas!”
She kept on walking. “Not for another month it isn’t.”
“Details!”
“See,” The Machine hummed in Shaw’s earpiece. “I told you Root was rubbing off on you.”
“That’s not all I’m…”
“I hate you both.”