Sleep-Time

"No! Get off-- mmhhhhmmm..."

Darren sank to the floor, needle sticking out of his shoulder. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, could barely think. Well, that's what happens when a sleeper gets lodged in your shoulder.

He heard some faint cries in the distance, sounding like his own. 'Get off!','No!', and the ever so popular 'Help!' Some people writhed, others stayed still, while they were all being tossed into the backs of several vans. He kept on thinking if she was able to get out. He could only hope, as he fell into a blank stupor.

Dove was moving quickly, the prototype stashed under her coat. She dashed to her car, slid in, and drove off. She knew she had to get it away, before they caught up to her. She wouldn't let Darren's attempt to stave them off go to waste. She saw a few of them behind her, and she got a case of the nerves.
"Shit."
 She drove at speeds that would have made people think she was drunk. In a way she was. The adrenaline rush was getting to her head, breaking her focus, making her swerve.

She crashed.
Her head crashed through the windshield, and sent her flying. She landed on her front, face turned towards the car. Her vision was blurred, and all she could see was the outline of a car on fire. And shadows in the forms of her pursuers. She was surrounded. She heard some murmurs.
"Search her."
"For what?"
"The canister, you idiot!"

She felt their hands find their way to the prototype's canister, pull it out, and they were gone. She was left next to a burning car, with multiple injuries.
'Oh, Darren," she whispered, "don't be disappointed in me."

Darren, slowly shaking out of his stupor, felt a growing sense of dread and disappointment.

He knew she lost.

He fe