She didn't climb the ladder. She ran up a collapsed pipe, grabbed a dangling cable, and swung—full arc—into the side of the transmitter tower. Her fingers found the rungs. She pulled herself up, one-handed, as bullets chipped the concrete behind her.
Lina sat on the edge of the tower, her legs dangling over the abyss. Below, Victor was screaming orders. But his men were lowering their guns. They were watching the screens too.
"You know what my father taught me?" she called up. "Gravity is a suggestion." mshahdt fylm Brick Mansions 2014 mtrjm - may syma 1
It seems your request mixes several elements: a possible typo ("mshahdt fylm" looks like "watch movie" in Arabic script), a title ( Brick Mansions 2014), and "mtrjm - may syma 1" (perhaps "translated – not on air/channel 1"?). You then ask to "write a story."
Tremaine's son, Victor. He had inherited his father's cruelty but none of his patience. He stood on the edge of the hole, flanked by men with rifles. She didn't climb the ladder
Lina knew every crack in the Brick Mansions concrete. Every loose pipe, every ledge that could hold a man's weight for half a second, every ventilation shaft that exhaled stale air onto the forbidden zone's only playground: the rooftops.
She smiled.
Every night, she climbed to the highest point—the shattered water tower overlooking the eastern block. From there, she could see the clean, glittering skyline of the city beyond the barrier. And she could see the one thing the city had left behind: a small transmitter tower, still blinking a red light.