30 minutes.  The corners of her mouth tugged downward as Laneya calculated the time needed.  She was already removing the few clothes she wore to bed, gathering what she would need in a circuit around the room.  Two blouses.  Two bras.  A pause, and a sport bra, just in case.  Pants, leggings, skirts, a pair of tougher jeans.  Dresses didn’t really make sense.  She tossed what she wasn’t putting on at the bed, in the general direction of her bag.  Alright, clothes handled.

Shoes next, one pair for street, one pair of boots; once more, just in case.  She didn’t have enough information to know what exactly she was supposed to bring, didn’t know what the right answer was.  Better safe than sorry, though, it wasn’t like this many things would slow down her ride on the bus.  28 minutes.  She grimaced further, her cold eyes narrowing at the clock.  She slipped the tee over her head as she blindly walked toward the medicine cabinet and grabbed her little medicine holder.  Thank goodness she’d taken the precaution to keep one handy after first contact.  She paused, popping open a day’s worth of pills as she stared at the one thing she was unsure in bringing.  Her other hand glided over the metal piece’s short barrel before she shook her head and closed the pantry door.  Next time, perhaps.  She swallowed the pills dry, tossed the holder onto the bed and grabbed her bag from by the door.  Quickly, she slammed clothes into it, zipped it, flung the strap across her shoulders so that the backpack rested squarely against her back.

Out the door she flew, plucking sunglasses and a duck-billed hat from the peg as she passed.  She issued the command from her phone for her flat to lock the door behind her, and sprinted down the stairs.  One, two, three flights.  Her watch said that it was 5:03.  The bus would be at Grove Road just about now.  She didn’t have time to wait 7 minutes for the next one.  Curse the tight timing on this notification.  She would have to take some of it herself.

There was not time for the proper safety procedures.  She took a sharp turn to where her bike was tied, using her home automation system to unlock it as she approached.  The engine revved happily to be woken so early in the morning, and in a cacophony of burning rubber and exhaust note, she woke half the neighbors and tore onto Old Ford Rd.

If they were only going to give her 30 minutes to get to the center of town, at least they were kind enough to do so early in the morning, when there would be no traffic.  She ignored the word “SLOW” emblazoned on the lane as she careened down the little two-lane road at 100kmph.  The rain made visibility low, and every turn was an exhilarating madness of skidding, sliding, and water spewing from a hard-driven back tire as she slopped from lane to lane, from road to road.  She swerved from the obvious course, slowing to a more reasonable rate as buildings closed in on every side, desperately swiveling her head from side to side in search of parking.  The station was close, but ah!  That would do.  Onto the curb she went, killing the engine and coasting along the sidewalk to stop at a small pole.  Good enough.  She tied up, and took off on foot.  5:08.

She hadn’t made it for the bus.  Or, rather, there was no way the bus would make it there in time.  But Bethnal Green was also a tube station.  5:11 as she charged down the stairs, racing the small waterfall that descended into the underground station.  The screech of a Central line train leaving port left a dead feeling in her heart, and she paused at the bottom of the stairs to watch the last few cars pull away.  The signs updated with the next train, and she read it with dead eyes before sighing in relief.  Direct line to Liverpool Underground Station: Arrival time 5:22.  She had made it.  She spent the few minutes she had wringing out and brushing the water off of her apparel and out of her eyes.

It was bad to have those 11 minutes of lower stress between her descent at Bethnal and her ascent at Liverpool.  It gave her time to reflect on this sudden change in her employer, in what power he, or she, or they were exerting over her life.  “Met with consequences.  Do not displease us.”  She munched on a small breakfast from one of the vending machines, and contemplated her new existence as the walls of the underground rushed past.  This sort of threat was new to her, something she hadn’t dealt with before.  Sure, she’d been dragged into many things in the hopes to not displease others, but it didn’t have that expectation of external punishment attached.  Disappointment had been enough of a deterrent for her for those people.  After all, what sort of person was unaffected when a mother said you had failed her?

The brakes screeched and she stood, left the otherwise empty car.  She could take the walk at a moderate pace, without fear of arriving late.  She passed into the station at 5:27, double-checking her watch to make sure.  Three minutes not late.  There were few others there this early, but each could have been the one.  Heck, they could have all been there as part of this entrapment.  She selected a place where her back was against a wall, giving her good vision of every approach, and squatted, taking off her backpack.  It was heavy enough to swing at someone if needed, and though it would probably be unwise to do that, the mere possibility helped to ease her.