There was blood. A lot of it. It was thick, it was hot, and the sheer volume of the crimson liquid made its presence brutally unbearable. Much of the dark fluid was disguised by the darkness of the night, but what the streetlights did illuminate didn't leave a lot to the imagination. A thin trail of blood trickled steadily down her face from the gash on her temple. The right side of her blue tank top and favorite maroon plaid shirt were heavily coated with the red substance. What was left of it was torn in several places. Her bare feet left red imprints on the sidewalk. They had taken her shoes, after they'd realized she was a kicker. And then her socks, just to prove that they could. Each step was filled a foggy, but painful jolt up her right leg. Cumulatively, making her stride seem like an awkward, sideways shuffle. But she refused to stop. Would not stop. Even though her body was begging for it. Even though her pace had to be slower than a snail on a bad day. Because the captors that held her hostage for god knows how long, surely wouldn't have released her without getting what the wanted. They surely wouldn't have released her at all, especially in an area so exposed to civilians. Especially in an area she knew so well.
Her vision blurred as hobbled down the street slowly. The ground seemed to swim underneath her feet and she found herself stopping several times so she wouldn't loose her balance. Random people cast furtive glances of pity in her direction, some even asked if she needed help, but she cast them away with a glare. She could take care of herself. She'd been on her own for as long as she could remember and had found herself in several less than ideal situations. If her body would just pull its self together, then she could make it on her own. That's what she told Walter wasn't it? Maybe that's why they did not find her in time? Why her captors had to release her, instead of the team jumping in and saving the day. Another surge of unwarranted resentment went through her mind. She knew she should not be angry. Not at herself for being too weak to handle the pain. Not at the pedestrians for having the goodwill in their hearts to help a stranger who obviously needed it. Not at the team for despite having all that brainpower seemingly not having resources to find her. If there was anyone she should be mad at it should be those godforsaken sons of bitches that thought that they could coerce her into doing their dirty work. It was mortifying and excruciating, the things she experienced in that hellhole. The hellhole so far away from everything, that no one probably even glanced up when they heard her screams. She had managed to land her fair share of kicks and punches, but six grown men outnumbered her one. They always did.
And yet they let her go. Dumped her on the side of the road like a bag of trash and sped off in their sickly yellow Mercedes-Benz Sprinter. They didn't even seem to slow down as they rounded the corner. She had the sense to wait until the van had turned the corner, and then a few minutes after, before booking it in the opposite direction. Well… limping away in the other direction.
But that adrenaline had long since faded and the pain had become unbearable. Her pale, shaky hands held onto the wall for support as another wave of nausea attacked her and her vision turned spotty again. The workshop was around here somewhere. All she had to do was get there and she'd be in the clear. She sifted through her cloudy memory for its location and prepared to turn down another alley. There it was. The workshop. It appeared that only one light was on in the building, which was unusual for this type of night. But she could not bring herself to care. All she was concerned about was reaching safety before she passed out on the street. Her world tilted sideways as she reached front door and pounded on it with what was left of her energy. Because of course the door had to be locked with Sylvester and his antics and the lock pick kit, she usually carried with her had been taken from the kidnappers, by the end of the first day. Not that she had the equilibrium for it, it took all her energy just to listen for a response. At first she heard no evidence that anyone was there. Then foot steps. A bolt unlatched as the door opened. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the bright light and when her vision cleared, the figure revealed itself to be the newest member of their team. Paige. Paige with her perfectly applied makeup and flawlessly maintained hair, despite one arm being in a cast. Paige who actually was a genius in her own right, skilled at translating the world for the antisocial, too high functioning guys that made up the group. And Happy could have not been and luckier to see her face. Paige's expression was akin more to shock and horror, after taking in the smaller woman's beaten figure that stood before her. Her son, Ralph, lingered in the background, his unfinished equation on the board in the back of the room, as he came to investigate the cause for this disruption. For a moment no one moved and not a single sound was uttered.
Then… "… Happy?" Paige murmured in disbelief. Happy gave what she hoped was an affirmative nod, then lurched forward as her legs gave out from underneath her and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. The mechanical prodigy groaned as her vision faded to darkness, but before she succumbed to complete unconsciousness she managed a small smile. At least she was home.
Paige launched into immediate action after her Asian friend collapsed on the floor. She screamed for the boys to come down the stairs and her voice must have sounded despairing because even Sylvester was down to the main room in mere seconds. Agitation was written all over their faces, none of them took to kindly to being interrupted, especially when the stakes at finding their friend were dire. But it was erased as the room went to a standstill once more, when the men realized that it their favorite mechanic lying crumpled on the floor. Then everyone snapped into action. Walter took charge and began barking orders. He and Toby immediately lifted Happy's small frame off the floor and onto the couch. Sylvester ran to grab some water and dishrags as ordered, while Paige ran in the opposite direction for the first aid kit. When the pair returned with the necessary supplies, Walter and Toby had already propped Happy's bare feet up on the couch and peeled the blood-laden shirt away from Happy's stomach. Paige almost recoiled at the sight and she backed away in revulsion. Happy's abdomen was littered bruises covered in clotting blood, all leading to one very serious looking injury on her bottom right side.
"Uh…Use the water to wipe away the blood and t- then use the dry ones to stem the bleeding." Walter babbled. He sounded so shell shocked, like he didn't know what he was doing. That was the only time Paige had ever seen him like that.
"I- I have to get my gloves. The amount of germs a-and viruses and diseases transferred this method is at a exceedingly hig-" Sylvester rambled as he tried to back away from Happy's unconscious figure.
"Well, hurry up then! We can't afford to lose time, she can't afford to lose time." Walter interrupted as he began cleaning the awful crimson stains from the mechanic. Sylvester was back in a number of seconds, wearing surgeon gloves from the huge supply he maintained constantly.
While Sylvester and Walter wiped the blood away, Toby had used a pocket flashlight to examine her eyes for pupil dilatation. When he didn't say anything and continued with the rest of his examination, Paige assumed that meant okay. Toby carefully cleaned the rest of the blood away from Happy's temple and applied butterfly stiches to a long, but shallow cut. What could have caused that? Paige couldn't help but wonder.
As the pile of bloody rags grew larger, Paige began to see the full extent of Happy's injuries and she felt sick to her stomach to know that someone could do this to a human being. Her heart lowered further when she realized, there could quite possibly be more.
Who could have done this to her? Just over two weeks ago, Happy had been snatched in the middle of a job. It was an unanticipated variable. No one had been expecting any setbacks. And it tore the team apart, especially when they couldn't find her. A human calculator, a behaviorist, and a hacker with the fourth highest IQ in the world couldn't find one person. All the leads they chased turned up dry. And if they hadn't had been there. Hadn't participated altercation that took their friend from them. Then it would have seemed like she just dropped off the earth. Just disappeared. Even Agent Gallo went to some government contacts in an attempt to locate her, but it was all to no avail. Day after day had passed and Sylvester bleakly reported the decreasing odds of finding her alive. But they refused to believe it. She wasn't dead, wasn't gone, just missing. Until tonight. When she just turned up on the doorstep, while they were busy chasing another lead.
Walter ran his long fingers up the mechanic's right leg. "She fractured her tibia and dislocated her phalanges. I think she pulled a tendon. Something has to be done about the blisters on her feet as well." Walter recounted monotonously as if he were listing things on a piece of paper. Then he readjusted Happy's lower body to have better access to the other leg.
"Her pupils aren't dilated, so she doesn't have a concussion, but she was obviously er, hit in the head." Toby added off handedly. He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his hat. He could still feel the bruise on the back of his head from the pipe that had hit him. The behaviorist motioned for Paige to hand him more dry rags and he started applying more pressure to Happy's abdomen. By this point, his hands were covered in slick, slippery blood. Happy's blood and that made him concerned. The bleeding from the abdomen was not slowing down. It wasn't flowing fast, but it showed no signs of stopping either.
"Uh.. Uhh… .We should take her to a hospital! Statistically with these injuries, the odds of survival if left untreated-" Sylvester rambled anxiously before he was interrupted by Walter and Toby's objections.
"No. Sylvester. You're our human calculator. The odds of whoever took her still being out there have to be pretty high. The hospital is a place where they would expect her to go." Walter said shutting him down, at the same time Toby had protests of his own.
"This is Happy we're talking about. A textbook example of Anger dissonance syndrome. The same person who hit a marine in front of the head of Homeland Security. When she wakes up she's not going be in the brightest of all moods. She's going to be scared, she's going to be angry, and she's going to want place that anger on something else. And we don't want her taking out half the hospital or taking out her self." Toby muttered at Sylvester, to focused on trying to stop the blood to put any real effort into the argument.
The situation was deteriorating rapidly.
"Guys! Compromise! If she doesn't wake up in the next 24 hours or if anything happens medically that we can't fix with this travel sized first aid kit then we're taking her to the hospital. NO EXCEPTIONS!" Paige yelled. They were all momentarily shocked to silence, Sylvester was posed to open his mouth again, but he must have realized the odds of him winning weren't high, and muttered grudgingly before launching back into the examination
A small hand touched hers as she observed the chaos. She flinched for a second before realizing it was Ralph. Her son. She had completely forgotten about him and a boy his age should had never have to witness something like this. But evidently he had already seen too much.
"What happened?" Ralph asked in his raspy whisper. Paige felt that familiar unsettled feeling she got whenever she couldn't answer a question Ralph asked. And this was one she definitely couldn't because they were all asking the exact same thing.