Phenomenonialistic

Maggie ran down the hallway, firing at the window until it fractured opened and then she dove out through it. The thing she hated the most about this move was that there was a percentage chance of getting cuts while going through the window.

She was free-falling now and that was okay. She let go of the gun and then turned in the air like a diver at a competition. She spread her arms wide and the cape billowed outwards, to help guide her body.

Midway down the alarm on her chronometer began to ring. She reached out and caught the flagpole and swung around, three times, to slow her momentum, and then let go. She was going at a 90 degree angle, then she caught the lamppost and twirled around, like a spinning top, down to the ground.

She landed gracefully, like the sidewalk were eggshells, then, looking up at the skyscraper, she walked towards the street, just as a car was pulling up.

"What took you?" Maggie asked Max.

"I ran into a few old friends," Max said with a wink.