02-17-2011, 06:12 AM
Victoria had gone off somewhere, the world too afraid to stop her. It was as though the entire planet had spun this long so unhindered and unabashed of itself only so long enough for them to show up. It seemed they had lost all this time to the boiling down of moments, almost as if Namek’s history had not mattered until that moment.
The blackness that welled in Sigfried’s heart mirrored Victoria’s brightness. It dripped from his very being and blood fell from his fingers. Sanguine covered his face and neck now, his body constantly caught between the image of a man and a monster. He was quite unsure now, honestly. Something on this battlefield called to him. The smell of pain and anger, of sweat and death, they all drew him in closer and he drew it in with great huffs into his nose. It was intoxicating.
Once again, Sigfried was Red, not a dull Grey, his eyes full of life once more. Having the two of them with him was always confusing. All of those thoughts they had, memories, feelings, desires and complexities that even Sigfried had only brushed against within the depths of his mind; they flooded over and through him. He wondered why they had left him, why he needed them to leave, when the euphoria of madness was so sweet.
Things didn’t have to make sense in this place. The distractions were there and they were good. They pulled his mind away from scrutinizing every thought, from tempering every feeling. Why was it that Sigfried felt so at home when he was not himself? When he was somebody with two other elses, with two people entirely separate? Maybe this was what it meant to be whole.
His wandering eyes found their way to Jarka, huddled in some corner of cover near the edge of the street. She looked like a moose in a desert, completely out of her element. Her very body trembled as she fumbled over the rubble, the massive pistol between her fingers seeming so out of place.
He took a step towards her, lifting a hand to guide the poor thing through the terror that enveloped every waking moment. A queer expression crossed her face but for one half of an instant, and then a look of shock. His brow furrowed as she took the pose of a shot putter, hurling her hand up and over. Turning his gaze upwards revealed some alien device hovering over his head before being flung back over the wall of its origin.
He didn’t know just quite what to say, the words all crumpling up in a pile near the back of his brain as he attempted to convey his feelings. A little smile had begun to spread over her lips. It was a look of pride, of satisfaction and glory. It was her moment to shine within the conflict.
He didn’t even hear the shot. A spattering of blood erupted from her chest, the frothy pink already gathering around the entrance wound as the lung deflated with a gasp. She crumpled backwards into the ruin of a spherical building, knees caught up on a chunk of wall caused that her legs to kick out dramatically from under her. Her head struck the ground upon landing. From behind a stone, her pleading eyes poked out, a tiny dribble of water creeping out of one and rushing to mix with the dirt below.
He could see her lips moving, uttering something that he couldn’t quite hear. She gagged on a bit of blood that had run down her trachea, choking the other lung. She closed her eyes tight, and her shivering ended.
The boy turned away, tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. He felt the smoke begin to erode the air around him, ozone and the sickly tang of sulfur gracing his nostrils. Something surged up from within him, grief and rage and terror all balled into one. It clutched at his throat, each emotion a finger taking hold of him and squeezing. Falling to his knees, he gagged and sputtered, vomit spilling out from his lips. He didn’t want to breathe because if he had to breathe that meant that the moment had passed and the things he had seen were real.
His hands clutched at his chest wildly, as though he could end the pain that throbbed by pulling his heart from beneath his ribs. Tears slowly fell into the boy’s hands, each pattering past and striking the dry earth with a puff of dust and smoke. His innards writhed as he felt his body rebel against him. The voices swelled up from within and screamed his name, chanting doom with every breath that he forsook. It was but the very thinnest strands of reason that sutured his mind together, the pressure of the moment tugging away at the threads as his heart exploded.
Sigfried… I don’t want to die.
With a horrible scream his body tore itself apart in a fountain of blood and biological debris. The battlefield soon filled with shrieking terrors, each with a different face and shape. They flowed and writhed between every inch of the battlefield, leaving thin red trails behind them that soon trickled off into vapor. The howling echoed so loudly through the sky that one might wonder what other than Hell itself could inhabit the poor surface of the planet.
The tainted creatures ran together like rambling sentences and when they were not screaming incoherently they babbled on in never ending loops, discussing topics and emotions that had plagued the young boy for so many years. These were not complete creations like Skoll, Hati or Roy. They did not even wield the basic cognizance that the snipers had, instead simply the unfinished half-birth of garbled theories and unrequited loves. Each was the tiniest shard of Sigfried.
They carried swords and whips, shields and pistols and a thousand other terrible devices. Some bore horns or halos, others simply the grin of a madman and each perched atop a structure that could be spawned in the mind of a man shattered. Their fiendish weapons clashed with those of the yellow garbed aliens and pierced their flesh mercilessly. When one would fall to the hands of an Invader, it would simply recorporate with its closest brother before devouring the creature that had put it down the first time. The streets red ran with blood; it colored the sky and filled the air.
Jarka whimpered and clawed at the ground, unsure of what was happening, only vaguely aware of the torturous existence that was Sigfried’s spawn. The pain seared through her as her breathing became more and more labored. Each breath was short and shallow, a lightheaded euphoria making it difficult to concentrate. The gun was too heavy in her hand to lift and bear witness to. She hadn’t even gotten to fire the damn thing, and here she was dying. Dying alone.
The sudden cessation of sound caused her eyes to open even in her delirious state. What she saw above her wracked her body with such horror that she went to scream, a visceral pain pressing down into her chest as she attempted. A terrible red demon loomed above her, golden eyes flickering as a tong, snake-like tongue lapped at the air. Blood trickled down from its face as it leaned in to deliver the kiss of death.
She whined and moaned, her limbs shuffling feebly about beneath her in an attempt to escape the beast, but its clawed hands pressed down onto her arms. “Shhhh…” it whispered with split tongue. “Everything will be just fine.”
Sigfried fettered and gnawed at his cheek nervously, anxiously. He wondered about the complications and what might happen to poor little Jarka. Could he help her? Was he even capable? His confusion wriggled and squirmed about in his head, pulling his eyes in every direction like worms tied to marionette strings. The shimmering images of a thousand eyes pressing into his consciousness and demanding his attention.
What if she died where was the enemy who was he fighting was that a grenade what was wrong with Jarka why was the sun still blue on Namek I wonder what the halflife of this energy cell is how do you tell what a day is on a planet with two suns who to kill next who to kill next who would be dead next?
As she pried her eyes open one last time, she saw Sigfried's face as he gently pat her down. “Where are you hurt?” It seemed like a stupid question to anyone who had just watched the poor thing get shot in the chest, but the fact of the matter was that things could be much worse if she had gotten a concussion or fractured her skull.
She disjointedly placed her finger near where the bullet had torn through her body as he began to gently cradle her head and neck, squeezing softly as he checked for fractures. “How is your head?” He didn’t allow her to even attempt at answering before he followed up. “Just tell me if it hurts, ok?” His thumbs pressed down on her cheekbones, forhead, brow, maxilla. His thumbs gave slight pressure at her jaw line before he moved down her neck, checking for stepoffs in her vertebrae.
Now would be the time in where he would check her chest and ribcage, but he decided to leave that for last. Never hurt your patient right away. Check the rest of them first.
Next his hands pushed up into her armpit of the unaffected side, quickly retracting out as he searched for blood. He gripped her arm and tugged in opposing directions as he moved away to the distal tip of her limb. When no blood or fractures were located he slipped down around her waist.
He grasped the cusps of her hips and pressed down and in, waiting for the sound of crunching or a shriek of pain from the chef. At least her pelvis wasn’t broken. A similar treatment that he had given her arm was given to her leg, assuring it wasn’t shattered or bleeding. With a wince he glanced up to the young woman and coughed. “Sorry, Jarky, this isn’t personal.” He jammed his flat hands up into her groin, the space between her leg and crotch, insuring that her femoral artery hadn’t been opened up.
The other leg was given the same treatment and soon he was meddling with the arm of her affected side. She whimpered and huffed painfully as he manipulated the limb, her injured chest pulling as he fiddled with it. He didn’t want to hurt the girl any more than she had to be. Yet, if she was injured more than he had expected, she could be in far greater. It was always better to check.
Placing one hand on top of another, he rolled them over her belly like he was kneading some unseen dough in her gut. When his fingers reached their tip and he was pressing down with just the points, he quickly lifted them and checked for rebound tenderness. He felt no hard balls or pulsating masses, and so her abdomen seemed good enough for now.
He returned to the chest once again, staring down to her bloodied top. He knew what he was going to have to do, but he still didn’t like it. Injuries were always so damn messy. Placing his hands together as if he was praying he placed them on her sternum and slid them down the strait bone after a firm press, repeating the sequence until he met the process at its bottom. She heaved and gasped as he pressed into her, almost assuredly sporting a broken rib. He wrapped his wide hands around with wide of her chest and squeezed, moving up and down her ribs until he met the actual entrance wound. Now her face contorted and she shrieked shortly, the broken rib wriggling about under her skin.
He shook his head slowly and cast his gaze up to the sky. “This really isn’t personal Jarka.” Removing a small knife from his pocket he slid it up the front of her shirt and into the sleeves, cutting away the fabric. Thankfully, she was wearing underwear beneath her top. He didn’t feel too bad when he tossed away the bloodied shirt. If she wanted a memento of the event, she could refer to the hole in her chest. He rolled her onto the injured side and once again the poor creature let out a moaning whimper. The exit wound that had left her scapula wasn’t much larger than its entry, but it almost certainly fragmented the paper-thin bone that rested where the gory blotch of mangled flesh rested.
He needed something plastic. And thick. It would also probably need to be sterile. After a moment of shuffling around in the filthy space, he remembered his rations for the day and pulled the tiny plastic bead from his pocket. Depressing the button and tossing it onto the ground in front of a him, the capsule exploded in a cloud of smoke. When it cleared, a freshly wrapped plastic MRE sat readily.
His knife sliced into the package, carving the walls into easily managed slabs. He secured the brown plastic on all four sides with thick tape. “Okay, if you can, give me one big exhale and hold it, ok?” Keeping her rolled on her side, he supported her with his knee. He placed the other square over the hole on her front again, tape sealing each edge.
He tapped her face gently a few times and smiled. “Jarky? Hey, Jarky, are you feeling okay?” He hefted the young woman to a sitting position and ran his hand over her hair.
“Better get a move on, boss.” Skoll’s voice was taught as it called from the wall just a few feet away. He stood inside the structure with only his eyes peeking out into the scene, a combat rifle in his hand.
“I think we’re clear to head back towards the troops if you think we should.” Hati scrambled around the space and gestured towards the breach, cocking his oversized handgun. “I think you cleared it out pretty well for a few blocks.”
Sigfried nodded and threw Jarka’s arm over his shoulders. “Come on now, Jarky… We’re goin’ home, ok?” He cast a glance between the two brothers, his eyes telling a tale of worry. “She’s still not breathing right. I think she’s got a-“
“Tension-pneumothorax.” The two responded in synchronises as they covered either side of the exit point.
Sigfried darted up to the large hole and glanced back and forth for any Invaders that felt like taking a second shot. He brandished Jarka’s pistol as he ran from his cover into the shell of another building. The sights of the weapon raced, sweeping for a target to fire upon. Soon, though, he found himself under concealment where he waited for his splits to follow. His weapon flashed down the other direction into the danger-zone.
The two others crossed the gap and they began to race through the city, now propelled by both a new sense of urgency and a new-found sensation of humanity. Jarka’s breathing only became more labored by the moment, frantic gasps resulting from her chest cavity filling ever more with air. It would start to build pressure around her heart soon enough.
The sounds of gunfire surrounded them quickly as the group crossed the breach of the wall. Squads of veteran soldiers coated in new-age armors with ki-tipped rounds sprinted around the ever-changing battlefield, securing the perimeter of the massive structure surrounding the space port.
“Mr Hunin!” The voice of one of the men called out to him, and the quartet looked over to the structure from which the voice had called. The striped sergeant wearing a South City uniform heralded them over as several men fired covering shots on either side, allowing them to cross. As they hit the tile of what used to be an office lobby, Sigfried released Jarka and propped her up against a wall in the corner.
“Are you alright, Mr. Hunin?” The men receded back into the building and covered their entrances, some reloading and others tending to other small matters in the short period of rest.
Sigfried nodded and looked over to the man. “Yeah I’m fine. Thanks, Sergeant.” He gestured to the small pouch on the man’s waist and beckoned him over. “Let me see your jump kit. She needs a needle chest decompression.”
The non-commissioned officer removed the small packet and tossed it over to his leader before turning back to the battle at hand, barking out orders. Sigfried popped it open as Skoll and Hati helped support and comfort the woman. He pulled out the thick fourteen gauge needle, catheter set, and a small alcohol swab, ripping the covering off with his teeth.
“I’ll need to go into the fourth intercostal.” He swabbed a tiny circle low on the girl’s ribcage, below her armpit. Firmly tugging off the cap, he cast it to the side as he began to line up his shot. He placed his thumb on her rib and slid the needle down along the bottom of it, careful not to strike the bone itself. The barb sunk into her and all the way into her chest cavity. He grasped the catheter and pulled the needle out, leaving the plastic tube in place. A long hiss escaped the hole as the pressure in her chest was released; her opposite lung was allowed to fully expand once more.
It wasn’t long after he had taped down the catheter that her bleary eyes began to look around the room once again, her heart back to pumping at full capacity. She grumbled something unintelligible and her head rolled around limply. Sigfried looked up to his brothers with a look of terror once again and pressed his fingers to her wrist.
“What’s her heart rate, man?” Hati’s voice carried too much worry.
“Too fast and thready.” Sigfried backed up off of the woman and started to look around the room for additional supplies.
Skoll brushed past him with a transparent IV bag in his left hand and a bundle of supplies and needle in the right. “I’ll handle her from here, Sigfried. Go and handle the situation on the front.”
Hati ran his hand over hers and nodded to Sigfried. “Yeah man, we can handle this. You’re needed elsewhere. You don’t need the distractions right now.”
Skoll nodded firmly as he set up the IV. “You don’t need the distractions.”
Sigfried trotted up behind the sergeant and patted him on the shoulder firmly. “What’s the situation on the space port? Do we have security?”
The gruff man glanced spitefully over to the hooded boy with a wary glance. Sigfried could taste his distrust on him, as obvious and blaring as the sun. It was good to have fewer distractions again. To be sliced into easily digestible pieces and allowing the bits to organize themselves… the gift of multitasking. The gift of clarity.
“We’ve got men moving on target now, but we’ve been getting a lot of feedback. The Invaders are flooding the area, and we’re picking up a huge surge of power from right on the tarmac. We believe it’s Victor-“
The hardened soldier was cut off by a blinding white light that seared over the entire City of Ja and a thunderous shockwave that spread out from its epicenter on the space port. Electricity arced from metallic surfaces and shocked the troopers as the current rushed over everything within their field of vision. A massive orb of power exploded outwards deep within the walls of that the defenders had built.
Soon, it was obvious to everyone involved what had transpired. Victoria had cleaned out the Space Port.
The blackness that welled in Sigfried’s heart mirrored Victoria’s brightness. It dripped from his very being and blood fell from his fingers. Sanguine covered his face and neck now, his body constantly caught between the image of a man and a monster. He was quite unsure now, honestly. Something on this battlefield called to him. The smell of pain and anger, of sweat and death, they all drew him in closer and he drew it in with great huffs into his nose. It was intoxicating.
Once again, Sigfried was Red, not a dull Grey, his eyes full of life once more. Having the two of them with him was always confusing. All of those thoughts they had, memories, feelings, desires and complexities that even Sigfried had only brushed against within the depths of his mind; they flooded over and through him. He wondered why they had left him, why he needed them to leave, when the euphoria of madness was so sweet.
Things didn’t have to make sense in this place. The distractions were there and they were good. They pulled his mind away from scrutinizing every thought, from tempering every feeling. Why was it that Sigfried felt so at home when he was not himself? When he was somebody with two other elses, with two people entirely separate? Maybe this was what it meant to be whole.
His wandering eyes found their way to Jarka, huddled in some corner of cover near the edge of the street. She looked like a moose in a desert, completely out of her element. Her very body trembled as she fumbled over the rubble, the massive pistol between her fingers seeming so out of place.
He took a step towards her, lifting a hand to guide the poor thing through the terror that enveloped every waking moment. A queer expression crossed her face but for one half of an instant, and then a look of shock. His brow furrowed as she took the pose of a shot putter, hurling her hand up and over. Turning his gaze upwards revealed some alien device hovering over his head before being flung back over the wall of its origin.
He didn’t know just quite what to say, the words all crumpling up in a pile near the back of his brain as he attempted to convey his feelings. A little smile had begun to spread over her lips. It was a look of pride, of satisfaction and glory. It was her moment to shine within the conflict.
He didn’t even hear the shot. A spattering of blood erupted from her chest, the frothy pink already gathering around the entrance wound as the lung deflated with a gasp. She crumpled backwards into the ruin of a spherical building, knees caught up on a chunk of wall caused that her legs to kick out dramatically from under her. Her head struck the ground upon landing. From behind a stone, her pleading eyes poked out, a tiny dribble of water creeping out of one and rushing to mix with the dirt below.
He could see her lips moving, uttering something that he couldn’t quite hear. She gagged on a bit of blood that had run down her trachea, choking the other lung. She closed her eyes tight, and her shivering ended.
The boy turned away, tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. He felt the smoke begin to erode the air around him, ozone and the sickly tang of sulfur gracing his nostrils. Something surged up from within him, grief and rage and terror all balled into one. It clutched at his throat, each emotion a finger taking hold of him and squeezing. Falling to his knees, he gagged and sputtered, vomit spilling out from his lips. He didn’t want to breathe because if he had to breathe that meant that the moment had passed and the things he had seen were real.
His hands clutched at his chest wildly, as though he could end the pain that throbbed by pulling his heart from beneath his ribs. Tears slowly fell into the boy’s hands, each pattering past and striking the dry earth with a puff of dust and smoke. His innards writhed as he felt his body rebel against him. The voices swelled up from within and screamed his name, chanting doom with every breath that he forsook. It was but the very thinnest strands of reason that sutured his mind together, the pressure of the moment tugging away at the threads as his heart exploded.
Sigfried… I don’t want to die.
With a horrible scream his body tore itself apart in a fountain of blood and biological debris. The battlefield soon filled with shrieking terrors, each with a different face and shape. They flowed and writhed between every inch of the battlefield, leaving thin red trails behind them that soon trickled off into vapor. The howling echoed so loudly through the sky that one might wonder what other than Hell itself could inhabit the poor surface of the planet.
The tainted creatures ran together like rambling sentences and when they were not screaming incoherently they babbled on in never ending loops, discussing topics and emotions that had plagued the young boy for so many years. These were not complete creations like Skoll, Hati or Roy. They did not even wield the basic cognizance that the snipers had, instead simply the unfinished half-birth of garbled theories and unrequited loves. Each was the tiniest shard of Sigfried.
They carried swords and whips, shields and pistols and a thousand other terrible devices. Some bore horns or halos, others simply the grin of a madman and each perched atop a structure that could be spawned in the mind of a man shattered. Their fiendish weapons clashed with those of the yellow garbed aliens and pierced their flesh mercilessly. When one would fall to the hands of an Invader, it would simply recorporate with its closest brother before devouring the creature that had put it down the first time. The streets red ran with blood; it colored the sky and filled the air.
Jarka whimpered and clawed at the ground, unsure of what was happening, only vaguely aware of the torturous existence that was Sigfried’s spawn. The pain seared through her as her breathing became more and more labored. Each breath was short and shallow, a lightheaded euphoria making it difficult to concentrate. The gun was too heavy in her hand to lift and bear witness to. She hadn’t even gotten to fire the damn thing, and here she was dying. Dying alone.
The sudden cessation of sound caused her eyes to open even in her delirious state. What she saw above her wracked her body with such horror that she went to scream, a visceral pain pressing down into her chest as she attempted. A terrible red demon loomed above her, golden eyes flickering as a tong, snake-like tongue lapped at the air. Blood trickled down from its face as it leaned in to deliver the kiss of death.
She whined and moaned, her limbs shuffling feebly about beneath her in an attempt to escape the beast, but its clawed hands pressed down onto her arms. “Shhhh…” it whispered with split tongue. “Everything will be just fine.”
Sigfried fettered and gnawed at his cheek nervously, anxiously. He wondered about the complications and what might happen to poor little Jarka. Could he help her? Was he even capable? His confusion wriggled and squirmed about in his head, pulling his eyes in every direction like worms tied to marionette strings. The shimmering images of a thousand eyes pressing into his consciousness and demanding his attention.
What if she died where was the enemy who was he fighting was that a grenade what was wrong with Jarka why was the sun still blue on Namek I wonder what the halflife of this energy cell is how do you tell what a day is on a planet with two suns who to kill next who to kill next who would be dead next?
As she pried her eyes open one last time, she saw Sigfried's face as he gently pat her down. “Where are you hurt?” It seemed like a stupid question to anyone who had just watched the poor thing get shot in the chest, but the fact of the matter was that things could be much worse if she had gotten a concussion or fractured her skull.
She disjointedly placed her finger near where the bullet had torn through her body as he began to gently cradle her head and neck, squeezing softly as he checked for fractures. “How is your head?” He didn’t allow her to even attempt at answering before he followed up. “Just tell me if it hurts, ok?” His thumbs pressed down on her cheekbones, forhead, brow, maxilla. His thumbs gave slight pressure at her jaw line before he moved down her neck, checking for stepoffs in her vertebrae.
Now would be the time in where he would check her chest and ribcage, but he decided to leave that for last. Never hurt your patient right away. Check the rest of them first.
Next his hands pushed up into her armpit of the unaffected side, quickly retracting out as he searched for blood. He gripped her arm and tugged in opposing directions as he moved away to the distal tip of her limb. When no blood or fractures were located he slipped down around her waist.
He grasped the cusps of her hips and pressed down and in, waiting for the sound of crunching or a shriek of pain from the chef. At least her pelvis wasn’t broken. A similar treatment that he had given her arm was given to her leg, assuring it wasn’t shattered or bleeding. With a wince he glanced up to the young woman and coughed. “Sorry, Jarky, this isn’t personal.” He jammed his flat hands up into her groin, the space between her leg and crotch, insuring that her femoral artery hadn’t been opened up.
The other leg was given the same treatment and soon he was meddling with the arm of her affected side. She whimpered and huffed painfully as he manipulated the limb, her injured chest pulling as he fiddled with it. He didn’t want to hurt the girl any more than she had to be. Yet, if she was injured more than he had expected, she could be in far greater. It was always better to check.
Placing one hand on top of another, he rolled them over her belly like he was kneading some unseen dough in her gut. When his fingers reached their tip and he was pressing down with just the points, he quickly lifted them and checked for rebound tenderness. He felt no hard balls or pulsating masses, and so her abdomen seemed good enough for now.
He returned to the chest once again, staring down to her bloodied top. He knew what he was going to have to do, but he still didn’t like it. Injuries were always so damn messy. Placing his hands together as if he was praying he placed them on her sternum and slid them down the strait bone after a firm press, repeating the sequence until he met the process at its bottom. She heaved and gasped as he pressed into her, almost assuredly sporting a broken rib. He wrapped his wide hands around with wide of her chest and squeezed, moving up and down her ribs until he met the actual entrance wound. Now her face contorted and she shrieked shortly, the broken rib wriggling about under her skin.
He shook his head slowly and cast his gaze up to the sky. “This really isn’t personal Jarka.” Removing a small knife from his pocket he slid it up the front of her shirt and into the sleeves, cutting away the fabric. Thankfully, she was wearing underwear beneath her top. He didn’t feel too bad when he tossed away the bloodied shirt. If she wanted a memento of the event, she could refer to the hole in her chest. He rolled her onto the injured side and once again the poor creature let out a moaning whimper. The exit wound that had left her scapula wasn’t much larger than its entry, but it almost certainly fragmented the paper-thin bone that rested where the gory blotch of mangled flesh rested.
He needed something plastic. And thick. It would also probably need to be sterile. After a moment of shuffling around in the filthy space, he remembered his rations for the day and pulled the tiny plastic bead from his pocket. Depressing the button and tossing it onto the ground in front of a him, the capsule exploded in a cloud of smoke. When it cleared, a freshly wrapped plastic MRE sat readily.
His knife sliced into the package, carving the walls into easily managed slabs. He secured the brown plastic on all four sides with thick tape. “Okay, if you can, give me one big exhale and hold it, ok?” Keeping her rolled on her side, he supported her with his knee. He placed the other square over the hole on her front again, tape sealing each edge.
He tapped her face gently a few times and smiled. “Jarky? Hey, Jarky, are you feeling okay?” He hefted the young woman to a sitting position and ran his hand over her hair.
“Better get a move on, boss.” Skoll’s voice was taught as it called from the wall just a few feet away. He stood inside the structure with only his eyes peeking out into the scene, a combat rifle in his hand.
“I think we’re clear to head back towards the troops if you think we should.” Hati scrambled around the space and gestured towards the breach, cocking his oversized handgun. “I think you cleared it out pretty well for a few blocks.”
Sigfried nodded and threw Jarka’s arm over his shoulders. “Come on now, Jarky… We’re goin’ home, ok?” He cast a glance between the two brothers, his eyes telling a tale of worry. “She’s still not breathing right. I think she’s got a-“
“Tension-pneumothorax.” The two responded in synchronises as they covered either side of the exit point.
Sigfried darted up to the large hole and glanced back and forth for any Invaders that felt like taking a second shot. He brandished Jarka’s pistol as he ran from his cover into the shell of another building. The sights of the weapon raced, sweeping for a target to fire upon. Soon, though, he found himself under concealment where he waited for his splits to follow. His weapon flashed down the other direction into the danger-zone.
The two others crossed the gap and they began to race through the city, now propelled by both a new sense of urgency and a new-found sensation of humanity. Jarka’s breathing only became more labored by the moment, frantic gasps resulting from her chest cavity filling ever more with air. It would start to build pressure around her heart soon enough.
The sounds of gunfire surrounded them quickly as the group crossed the breach of the wall. Squads of veteran soldiers coated in new-age armors with ki-tipped rounds sprinted around the ever-changing battlefield, securing the perimeter of the massive structure surrounding the space port.
“Mr Hunin!” The voice of one of the men called out to him, and the quartet looked over to the structure from which the voice had called. The striped sergeant wearing a South City uniform heralded them over as several men fired covering shots on either side, allowing them to cross. As they hit the tile of what used to be an office lobby, Sigfried released Jarka and propped her up against a wall in the corner.
“Are you alright, Mr. Hunin?” The men receded back into the building and covered their entrances, some reloading and others tending to other small matters in the short period of rest.
Sigfried nodded and looked over to the man. “Yeah I’m fine. Thanks, Sergeant.” He gestured to the small pouch on the man’s waist and beckoned him over. “Let me see your jump kit. She needs a needle chest decompression.”
The non-commissioned officer removed the small packet and tossed it over to his leader before turning back to the battle at hand, barking out orders. Sigfried popped it open as Skoll and Hati helped support and comfort the woman. He pulled out the thick fourteen gauge needle, catheter set, and a small alcohol swab, ripping the covering off with his teeth.
“I’ll need to go into the fourth intercostal.” He swabbed a tiny circle low on the girl’s ribcage, below her armpit. Firmly tugging off the cap, he cast it to the side as he began to line up his shot. He placed his thumb on her rib and slid the needle down along the bottom of it, careful not to strike the bone itself. The barb sunk into her and all the way into her chest cavity. He grasped the catheter and pulled the needle out, leaving the plastic tube in place. A long hiss escaped the hole as the pressure in her chest was released; her opposite lung was allowed to fully expand once more.
It wasn’t long after he had taped down the catheter that her bleary eyes began to look around the room once again, her heart back to pumping at full capacity. She grumbled something unintelligible and her head rolled around limply. Sigfried looked up to his brothers with a look of terror once again and pressed his fingers to her wrist.
“What’s her heart rate, man?” Hati’s voice carried too much worry.
“Too fast and thready.” Sigfried backed up off of the woman and started to look around the room for additional supplies.
Skoll brushed past him with a transparent IV bag in his left hand and a bundle of supplies and needle in the right. “I’ll handle her from here, Sigfried. Go and handle the situation on the front.”
Hati ran his hand over hers and nodded to Sigfried. “Yeah man, we can handle this. You’re needed elsewhere. You don’t need the distractions right now.”
Skoll nodded firmly as he set up the IV. “You don’t need the distractions.”
Sigfried trotted up behind the sergeant and patted him on the shoulder firmly. “What’s the situation on the space port? Do we have security?”
The gruff man glanced spitefully over to the hooded boy with a wary glance. Sigfried could taste his distrust on him, as obvious and blaring as the sun. It was good to have fewer distractions again. To be sliced into easily digestible pieces and allowing the bits to organize themselves… the gift of multitasking. The gift of clarity.
“We’ve got men moving on target now, but we’ve been getting a lot of feedback. The Invaders are flooding the area, and we’re picking up a huge surge of power from right on the tarmac. We believe it’s Victor-“
The hardened soldier was cut off by a blinding white light that seared over the entire City of Ja and a thunderous shockwave that spread out from its epicenter on the space port. Electricity arced from metallic surfaces and shocked the troopers as the current rushed over everything within their field of vision. A massive orb of power exploded outwards deep within the walls of that the defenders had built.
Soon, it was obvious to everyone involved what had transpired. Victoria had cleaned out the Space Port.
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]