We can jump or take the safe route

a/n: Gwin and Nagi jump off the Administrative Area balcony. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Swears (not much this chapter, but they tend to sneak in), pain, Gwin abuse.

All the good and wonderful stuff belongs to Monolith Soft. Case the Head Case is mine, but fairly quiet this chapter.

And if this doesn't prove that I love XCX and you guys
more than anything
Know that I have Breath of the Wild, on PAUSE, next to me!

Gwin peered over the edge of the Administrative District lookout. Far below, he could make out the shape of the prototype skell, blurred by the blast gel that formed the moat beneath the city. A rusty red comet trail was marring the deeper blue, with the skell as the head and still sinking.

"Case! We gotta see if she's okay. Um, the elevator is …"

Behind him, a firm voice said, "Too slow. How are you for high dives?" Gwin watched as the speaker ran straight for the edge and dove off. Kentaro Nagi, Secretary of Defense and general bad ass. Gwin took a stutter step and followed on his idol's heels.

The air whistled past his ears, and he twisted miserably, hoping he'd made enough of a leap at the start to miss the roadway overhang. Well, he'd followed in Nagi's footsteps, and if that wasn't the best idea generally, he'd be surprised. The sucking splash of blast gel confirmed his faith, even as cold shot straight into his bones (or whatever served as bones).

The gel was morning chilled, sticky, and gritty from dust and pollen. It was no longer the stinking biohazard that it had been early in their arrival, before the Zaruboggan had joined the city and started their eager and relentless quest for voltant. Still, even on a sunny day, Gwin had always found swimming in gel to be disgusting. The way it both clung and slithered around his body reminded him too much of being digested, not that he'd had that experience on Mira. Yet. Tatsu had been very vocal and descriptive about his personal experiences, and of all the blather that little vegetable spewed, that had struck home for Gwin. So, no, not something he was enjoying.

But he wasn't paddling around, chasing after Cross for some reason, or trying to recover from a drunken walk home. The height of the jump had pushed him deep, and he forced himself to keep swimming downward, towards Case's skell. The urge to breathe shouldn't have bothered him. Mims don't need air quite the same as humans, remember that. But still, something like lungs was screaming in revolt. Opening his eyes was agony, and not all that helpful. The further he descended, the murkier it grew, until he could barely make out the shadow of the skell. Some other sense was helping him, pressure or movement or just the inevitable tendency he had to crowd up on people.

His fingers smashed painfully against metal. He shifted his hands, following curves and flanges. Found it! Now to find the release for the pilot's hatch. A tricky problem, being essentially blind and not knowing if he was looking for a lever or button or external panel anyway. Even trickier, it might have been destroyed in the battle. Even more tricky after that, it might not have ever existed.

No. Case had gotten in, and she'd started from the outside with no help. So he should be able to do something. By feel, he'd found the center of the torso. Over to his left, he sensed flailing. Must be the Secretary, trying to get at Case through the gaping hole left after the right arm had been detached. Brilliant. Why hadn't he thought of that? Gwin groped his way across the chest of the skell, trying to pull himself closer through the sticky gel. Gotta get there, gotta get her out, gotta get Case, come on, move!

His hands suddenly were pinned to the skell. A sullen reddish glow seemed to be lighting the gel slightly. It was dim enough that he wasn't sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him. It wasn't bright enough to reveal anything except the outline of his fingers. Then Gwin felt a stinging snap, not quite static, not quite heat, moving up his hands, past his wrists. He yowled briefly, only to choke on a mouthful of gel.

:pilot:released:good:riddance:

Was that a voice? Impossible. Gwin had reached complete confusion tinged with panic. He had his jaw clamped, strangling on gel. His eyes were wide open and stinging, but all he saw was grey bordering on black. His fingers burned. He must have lost the skell, because his hands were no longer touching metal. They weren't empty though. He realized he could feel cloth, and armor, and the curve of a shoulder blade. He grabbed desperately. A pull brought something that might be the weight of a mim closer to him.

He got another mouthful of gel, impulsively shouting that he'd gotten Case. Probably hadn't made a sound, but somehow there was another set of hands, pulling at the limp form. She wasn't coming cleanly from the skell, though. They tugged her upwards, and her head tugged back, snapping her body from his hands. Gwin kicked furiously closer to her. His fingers found hair, made gross and slimy from the gel, and at the base of her neck, he felt a tether. He didn't want to consider options, instead yanking it roughly free from her body. That was enough. She was pulled upward by Nagi, and Gwin followed.

They broke the surface as a trio, two flailing and sputtering, one still and dead weight. Not the best phrasing, maybe. Gwin certainly hoped it wasn't. "Keep her head above the surface," ordered Nagi, the sound muffled by the gel thick in Gwin's ears. The Interceptor shook his head madly, blinking to get some of the heavy liquid from his eyes. He awkwardly cradled Case's head so that it stayed above the level of the gel. Nagi was pushing the both of them, kicking like a motor, towards a small row of solar panels that dotted the surface. Gwin swam forward, and tugged Case up onto the small platform.

Gwin crouched beside Case and shook her, but got no response. Her eyes were shut and he couldn't tell if she was breathing or not. He noticed black cables, thicker than his thumb, were attached all over her body. Some looked like they had released cleanly from the skell; others, dripping a honey-colored oily substance, looked as if they'd been snapped. There were slashes all over her legs and torso too, probably where cables had been torn out. She was a mess of bright blue mim fluid, grey blue gel, and the yellow oil, as well as other weird smears. Her skin was so pale, he could almost see the green of her eyes through her eyelids. "Come on, Case, you there?" Gwin started to tug at some of the leads still attached to her. The first one came out with a gush of yellow and blue, its wicked jagged arrowhead glittering as silver as the prototype.

"Don't touch the cables. Or their fluid. Poison, I'd say."

"What? What makes you say that?"

Nagi was standing, looking down at Gwin and Case. "Something is certainly making her shake." Gwin hadn't noticed that Case's body had shifted from motionless to trembling. The shaking was slight but relentless.

"Is she okay?" Gwin looked up at Nagi, hoping the older man had some good news.

"No. But she isn't dead. We can't do much until …" began Nagi. "Ah, I see the Mediators have arrived." Even before he finished his statement, a Police skell swooped down. Two BLADEs jumped out as the skell hovered delicately at the base of the platform. Gwin recognized the pilot, a bulky Mediator named Lara (Nara, if he had to guess). Lara gave him a multi-fingered twiddling wave. Gwin shook his head again, trying to clear his vision a bit more. The new arrivals, medics probably, were hauling Case rapidly into the skell, which began to lift off the second the back carrier snapped shut.

Gwin watched the skell shoot off helplessly. "Shouldn't they have checked her before moving her?"

"Getting her to the Mim Center will do her the most good. It will do us considerable good as well. Shall we?" But Nagi wasn't actually waiting for a response. He had dove into the gel and was making a good imitation of a torpedo, directly at the nearest staircase. Gwin gave one last shake of his head before reluctantly reentering the moat. No point waiting for someone to pick him up.

A few minutes later Gwin emerged from one more unexpected morning swim. The Secretary was waiting for him, with an expression that would have daunted Gwin under the ideal circumstances. Dripping with gel, with ears both ringing from explosions and muffled from the dive, unable to stop his eyes from blinking, Gwin was definitely not at his best. Still, he did what he could to stand at attention.

"You have 450 steps to explain before we reach the Residential Section. Start."

a/n: Answer: Jump. 475 hours later, still made the right decision there. And, yes, I counted the steps.

Last chance for suggestions for Nagi's casual wear! And treasure bunny is female specific, so not that. Why, Monolith Soft, why? Because I would have put every stinking male in that outfit. Every. One.

Next up: Safe and dry and salty as all get out. And we'll be done (but only until I finish the Gwin/Tatsu silliness).