Your ankle screams in pain as you do your best to free it, but it takes a good couple of minutes before you can get your body twisted round enough to lift the shattered roof spar from above your shin.
Sodden cladding and ancient nails scratch at your leg as you work it free, but eventually it comes loose.
Panting for breath and fighting through the pain, you lie on your stomach on the broken roof, planning your next move.
A memory of an old trid springs into mind, a firefighter laid on his stomach on the ice of a lake to rescue a kid, or something...
You stay on your front, shifting your weight slowly and carefully, inching your way across the roof
Dunk pipes up on the comms,
Where the fuck are you lad? We've been here ages and we're drawing a few stares.
After a good few minutes you reach the other side, looking over the parallel street.
It looks much the same as the side you came from, the conjoining alleyway to your left, the front entrance of the restaurant directly behind and below you.
You can see Dunk's junker parked up on the far side of the street, Mantis and Dunk looking around trying to get a bead on someone or something.
___Mantis____
Dunk pulled away slowly, trying not to attract the attention of the crowd.
People started to lean out of their windows, come out of the shops and the restaurant to get a look at what was going on.
The first couple of people began to relay their stories to the latecomers, pointing at the car as you pulled away before pointing back up into the sky.
Fuck. We're local news now pal. FUCK.
Dunk looked into the rear view mirror, adjusting it as he drove to see what kind of attention you'd dragged up.
Rounding the corner twice, you pulled down the street to the far side of the restaurant. The far side of the building obviously shared the ground floor, but the commercial unit had long been out of service.
Boarded up windows and graffiti provided the only decorations this side.
Dunk parked up on the far side of the road next to a small convenience store, anxiously tapping the steering wheel and looking around.
Come on knives, get a move on lad he said to himself, before pinging a message over the comms.
A couple of minutes pass before an ancient pickup truck roars up the street. towards you.
Dunk freezes as he sees it.
Fuck.
You count three in the Cab and can make out at least another couple in the flatbed.