*from Jeremiah's perspective*
The reaction on my part is instantaneous. I grab Aryn by the wrist and drag her to the floor as the ball of energy crashes next to her. Her scream is shrill until it's cut off by her falling on top of me with a quiet groan. I raise my gun and fire twice, both shots connecting with the figure.
"Is that who I think it is?" Aryn gasps.
The figure speaks. "Now would you kindly not shoot at me?"
"Yes," I reply to Aryndel, turning to address the person. "Atlas! You scum!"
Aryn looks as though she might cry. "Why is Atlas after us too?!"
I pull her behind a decorative couch and look over to see Atlas surrounded by a fog of green and yellow. "The splicers must have used a hypno plasmid. They must've gotten to him and wanted to use him as a scapegoat for a massacre."
She sobs in my arms. "Is he...dead? Is our Atlas…the real Atlas…gone?"
I shake my head. "Not yet. We can save him, but we better wake him from this trance before the Big Daddies get here. Seven minutes, tops."
"What can I do?" she whispers.
"Here's what I need you to do. I need you to draw his attention just for a bit. I'll be gone, but not for long. I swear it."
She nods. "I'll try. Are there any obstacles I need to avoid?"
"Carpet covered floor, couch five feet to the left, table with decorative lamp directly between you and him. He's in a clear area, so put some shots in his feet if you can. I'll surprise him with a little something," I say, grabbing a lamp from beside me. "It won't kill him, but it'll give us time and knock him out."
She stands shakily and runs blindly toward him, raising her gun and firing at the ground around him. Two of her stray bullets hit his foot and he shouts, momentarily distracted by the pain emanating from his foot. I use the opportunity to jump over the couch and slam the base of the lamp into the back of his head. He crumples to the floor and groans.
Aryn stops running and pants, "Did you get him?"
"Yeah sis, I did," I reply with a relieved smile. "He'll have a splitting headache when he wakes up, but for now, we're safe." I walk over to her and take her hand, to which she grins with a pained wince. "Sis? Are you hurt?"
She pulls back her pant leg, which to my horror is charred and torn. "When Atlas was shooting the electricity," she says quietly. "I didn't get down fast enough. How bad is it?"
The blackened skin and dripping blood make me sick, but I pat her shoulder gently. "Not bad, sis. It'll heal soon enough." I scoop her up in my arms. "I'll carry you to the couch to lay down until the paramedics get here."
She buries her face in my shirt and cries, wetting my shirt with her bitter tears.
"I love you sis," I murmur. "I'm sorry I couldn't get you down fast enough." Against my will, several tears seep from my own eyes and drip onto the front of her vest. I despise seeing her in pain, but there's nothing I can do this time.
I've only seen her this bad once. Five months ago I found her lying outside our apartment against the door, bloodied and incoherent. I never knew what had happened until now, but I suppose it must've been those men she talked about. Those inhuman freaks; I'll make all of them pay for what they forced her into.
"It wasn't your fault," she argues weakly. "I should've been faster. You've been nothing but protection for me."
The alarms of police and paramedics echo in the hallway and I stand up, picking my sister up in my arms. "Let's go sis, just one more day and we'll be free of this hell," I reassure her, walking toward the entrance where the paramedics have opened the door and are assessing the damage.
"Jer, I want to walk on my own," she says quietly.
I set her down, keeping one of her arms around my neck for support. "I understand. We stand at each other's sides."
She limps along beside me, wincing and gasping every few seconds but smiling through the tears. The paramedics meet us halfway with stretchers and I scoop her up and deposit her gently on one. "One more day," I echo her mantra from when the situation was reversed just yesterday. Yesterday? Had it really only been one day? I suppose it must have been, but the pain feels ancient, as though I've had it forever. My fingers graze across the scar on my chest as the paramedics strap Aryn in. I sink back onto the second stretcher, groaning as fresh pain and exhaustion sets in.
They wheel us quickly to the Bathysphere but Aryn is whipping her head back and forth in her blind panic. "What about Altas? What's going to happen to him?"
A paramedic applies a cold compress to her charred leg, responding with calculated calm. "The rest of the team will get to him. Don't worry."
I reach over and grab her trembling hand. "We'll more than likely meet him in the hospital."
"Jer…I'm so very tired…" Her sightless eyes have turned pale, finally alerting those who look at them of an abnormal condition, and they blink slowly before closing entirely and her breathing tapers off to a slow steady rhythm.
"Don't worry sis," I murmur, brushing the hair out of her peaceful face. "Things will be better when you wake up, I promise. Goodnight."
