Sceniu Complex
Seven Years After E-day
Hey, asshole- look at me. I know you get a kick out of this shit, but why pick on us? And, seeing as we're chatting, where the hell did you all come from?
-Damon Baird questioning a grub prisoner while Sergeant Mataki tortures it.
She took a long drag of the cheroot cigarette, holding in the smoke and a cough before exhaling slowly. Bri passed the burning, white stub to Diesel, trying to look cool and uncaring.
Once she had decided to quit giving a damn, she found a whole new world opening up to her. The dark side of Jacinto. She found a new group of 'friends', people who smoked and drank, who skipped school, and cursed their parents behind their back and to their faces. If they even still had parents, that is.
They were the 'forgotten generation'. Too young to serve as gears or mothers, yet old enough to know what the world had lost, and hold a grudge because of it. As long as they didn't hurt anybody or steal anything too valuable, the COG didn't concern itself with these packs of kids roaming the streets during the day, and many times during the night.
Bri had quickly found these gangs, and found herself awash in a sea of 'don't give a shit'. She built up her arsenal of insults and curse words, and used them freely. She'd mouth off to anyone- teachers, rival gangs, and gears. There was only one person that was immune to her mouth, and that was Bane. He still plagued her, and although she wouldn't admit it to anyone, honestly scared her.
Rochelle, a girl Bri had come to know, smiled at her. "Damn, girl. You just gonna stand there, or you gonna join the party?" She held out a bottle of booze invitingly.
Sylvia would have recoiled from the drink. Bri grabbed it, grinning widely. "Shit, yeah," she said, taking a drink and relishing the burn as it made its way down her throat. She took another swallow before passing the bottle back.
The mixture of cigarette smoke and booze was making her a bit woozy, so she rested the back of her head against the wall. Her eyes snapped open when she felt a presence beside her.
It was Diesel. He gave her a small smirk, looking down at her from his incredible height. Actually, he wasn't that tall, it was that she was that short. Standing straight, she stuck her chin in the air defiantly, waiting for him to speak.
"Hey, Bri," he said seductively. Diesel was known for being a player. He had a different girl for each day of the week, and often more than one at a time. Maybe it was his dangerous persona, or the slight purr he had as he said her name, but she still felt a thrill go through her.
"Whaddya you want?" she growled, playing her part. Diesel liked to fight for it, preferring girls who resisted right up to the end. He liked a challenge, and she was willing to provide him with one.
"You," he answered simply, wrapping a hand around her waist. She gave him a small smile, stepping back.
"Uh-huh," she said, "And did I mention the kick to the groin you'd get if you touch me?"
That gave him pause, and he retreated for a moment, thinking up a plan B. He smiled easily, not taking his eyes off of her. "You know you love it."
His hand snaked up her arm, and she fought the urge to shiver. "You know, the last thing I'd want to do is hurt you," she began, giving him a fake smile, "but its still on the list."
His eyes darkened, and his grip tightened until it was almost painful. "That how you wanna play it?"
She pulled out of his grasp, finally regretting all those drinks she had that afternoon. "I'm not 'playing' anything."
Finally their little spat caught the attention of Rochelle. She looked between them, eyes slightly glassy. She had been smoking something a bit stronger than cigarettes. "Hey c'mon, Diesel," she said. "Leave her alone. She's still young, she'll learn."
Bri snorted. What Rochelle meant was that she'd learn her place. Most girls wouldn't even consider saying no to a man, mostly because the man would just end up taking it anyway. Women had become sexual objects, to be used and thrown away until she finally got pregnant by someone; and then she had the dad by the balls for the rest of his life. It was just the new social norm; men became gears and women became breeding stock.
Diesel smiled at her, warning her. "Don't worry. I'll put her back the way I found her." His eyes snaked down her body, obviously noting the myriad of bruises and scars, many of them given to her by Bane, but not all. She talked a big game, and sometimes that smart mouth got her in trouble. She silently hoped that this wasn't one of those times.
Rochelle rolled her eyes, deciding that the owner of the lap she was sitting on was more important than some smart-assed little kid. Diesel wasn't her brother, Bri wasn't her kid, so why should she care what happened to her? She didn't wish her any harm, but she wasn't about to take a bullet for her. Eventually she would learn that there were some people that you don't talk back to.
"Don't worry," Bri said to him, a bit stung by Rochelle's dismissal. "I'm not your type. I'm not inflatable."
That did it. Diesel changed in front of her, losing that suave attitude and became something darker, something more sinister. "Oh, yeah?" he snapped. "Why the fuck don't you just leave, then? Go see if one of those other pussy gangs will take you in?"
She blinked. It wasn't the first time she had stood up to Diesel, but he had never before threatened to kick her out of the gang. She was small, skin too dark to hang out with the white kids, too light to hang with the blacks. This was the only gang she could hang with, and even if she was the right race to go somewhere else, Diesel's gang had a reputation. The odds where slim to none that she'd be accepted somewhere else. She thought fast, trying to come up with a reason for Diesel to keep her around.
"Booze," she said. "I can get you booze."
That caught his attention. He examined her face, trying to see if she was lying or not. But free alcohol was one plus he couldn't afford to let go. "Oh yeah? Give it up. I wanna see it."
"What, you don't believe me?" she snapped, mentally screaming at herself to shut up. There was no way for her to get free alcohol, and she didn't have anything to trade with for the few people who brewed moonshine down by the docks. "You'll be taking a whiskey bath if you let me stay."
He laughed, their earlier spat forgotten, or so it seemed. Diesel never forgot anything, and now that she'd opened her big mouth, he wasn't about to let free booze slip through his fingers. "Go get it. I'm kinda thirsty myself." He turned behind him to another female gang member. "What about you, Destiny? You in for some booze?"
She ignored the boy who was talking to her, flashing Diesel a million watt smile. "Hell yeah, Diesel. I'm down for anything with you."
He smiled, rotating his head back down to look at Bri. "Well, there you have it. We're all thirsty. Go get that booze you supposedly have."
Heart pounding in her ears, she forced another smile. "You guys got it," she said, turning on her heel and walking away.
Just before she was out of earshot, she heard Diesel call her name. Turning, she listened as he said, "If your lying, don't bother coming back." She could just see the corners of his mouth turn up in a cold grin. "You won't survive it."
Fighting a chill, she held her hands up in an innocent gesture. "What's the matter, Diesel? You don't trust me?" She laughed, as if such an idea was absurd.
Walking away, she silently berated herself. Shit…where the hell am I supposed to find free booze?
The answer came to her so easily, she almost laughed. Did she or did she not live with an alcoholic? Their apartment smelled like a brewery, and she was forever picking her way through empty bottles. The thought didn't come without a hefty dose of fear, however. If Bane thought she was mooching his booze, he'd beat her bloody.
Deciding it was either getting beat by Bane or by Diesel's gang, she decided to risk the apartment. Bane just stumbled around in a drunken haze most of the day, so how would he notice a few bottles missing? Hell, half the time she wasn't sure if he even remember who she was. There were always those few disconcerting moments when he was kind, and insisted on calling her 'Jordan'. The first time it had happened, she just figured he had finally snapped. Then she pieced it together after many nights alone with the drunken slob, and it turns out that Jordan was his wife. She figured that she had either left him long ago, or, more likely, died in the Hammer strike. When he finally sobered up long enough to recognize her, he seemed devastated. He always took his anger out on her, so she came to dread those instances when he called her Jordan.
She turned down her street, only a block or so away from where Diesel waited for her. The same apartment building waited menacingly for her. She stumbled up the five flights of steps, the alcohol making her feel disconnected to her feet. Her key turned easily in the lock, and she pushed open the door.
Pausing in the doorway, she listened intently, barely breathing. She heard a heavy snore from the back bedroom, and she breathed a silent breath of relief. That was how she liked him; passed out and out of her way.
Searching the small apartment, she found five almost full bottles, and stuffed them into a canvas pack. She was just passing through the bedroom when she spied a nice bottle of whiskey clenched tight in Bane's fist. Hesitating briefly, she stepped forward, gently coaxing the bottle out of his grip. Putting it with the others, she headed out of the apartment, flinching when the door banged shut behind her.
She jogged down the stairs, wanting to put some distance between her and the shaggy apartment. She made her way back to the designated hangout spot for the gang, holding the bottle of whiskey high above her head as a trophy.
"Holy shit," Rochelle said admiringly, taking a second to remove herself from her partners lips. "She actually did it."
Passing the bottles around, Bri winked at her. "Hell yeah, baby," she said, handing Rochelle a bottle. "I ain't no liar."
"Yeah, yeah," Diesel said from behind her. "Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much. You ain't that good."
Rolling her eyes, she passed Diesel the bottle of whiskey she had finagled out of Bane's hand. "Here you go, Diesel. Now, why don't you slip into something more comfortable? You know, like a coma?"
Diesel shot her a look, but didn't say anything, busy with the whiskey. They spent the next half-hour partying and drinking. Bri was enjoying her new found celebrity status that the free booze had brought her. She was so busy flirting with the guys and downing shots of moonshine, at first she didn't notice the disturbance at the head of the lot they dominated.
"Hey man," one of the older gang members called. "You lost or something?"
The words had such an opposite feeling than the party that Bri just had to look. Her blood ran cold, and her fist froze on the bottle she still clenched in her hand. It was Bane, looking angrier than she had ever seen him.
"Where's that bitch?" he called loudly, bringing all other conversations to a halt. "Where's the bitch that stole my booze?"
Nobody answered him. For being such a tough talking gang, most of the members weren't older than fifteen. And now they were faced with one big, angry, pissed off mother-fucker. Bane scanned the crowd slowly, stopping when his bloodshot eyes saw her and his bottle. "You think you can steal from me?"
She got up, letting the bottle hit the ground. Her eyes were wide, a sarcastic remark noticeably missing from her lips. "You think I'm gonna let some punk assed bitch steal my booze?" he repeated, drawing close to her. Not giving her the chance to explain, he slapped her; hard.
She fell, skidding on the broken pavement and wincing as shards of glass and gravel embedded itself in her skin. She rolled to her knees, not taking her eyes off of Bane to watch as Diesel and his gang hightailed it out of there. For all the smack they talked, none of them was willing to stick around and risk a beating, least of all for her.
Bane grabbed her black hair and dragged her to her feet. "You're gonna pay," he hissed at her, close enough so she could smell the booze on his breath. He smacked her again, holding onto her hair so she couldn't fall and get away from him.
Normally she would have just taken it, let him punch and fight until he tired and left her alone. Today, she was sick of it. Sick of being beat up, sick of being treated like an animal from him, and everybody else. She slammed her fist into his chest, forcing him back a couple paces. She followed that up with a kick to the chest that almost knocked him to his knees.
She almost started in on him again, fueled by rage and pain. Before she had time to raise her fist, his hand went to his waist, and he pulled a pistol on her. She froze, staring at the cool glinting barrel, wondering if he'd really pull the trigger.
"You fucking bitch," he snapped at her, one hand on his chest where she punched him. "You think you can get away with shit like that? I'll teach you some damn respect."
He waved the gun around as he spoke, never keeping it centered on her for more than a few seconds. She backed down fast, watching the gun with slightly panicked eyes. With all the beatings she had taken over the years, he had never once pulled a gun on her. This was new territory, and she wasn't sure where he was planning to take this, or if he even had a plan in mind.
He continued his stream of degrading curses and insults. She tuned them out, busy watching the gun. He stepped closer, and she didn't think- she reacted.
Lunging forward, she grabbed his firing arm and forced it upwards, gaining control of the weapon. Before he had a chance to react, she wrenched the gun out of his hand. She turned it back on him, holding the gun steady with two hands.
He froze, his alcohol drenched brain taking a moment too long to process the scene in front of him. Bri could feel by the weight of the gun that it was loaded, but she had no idea if it had a round chambered or not. By the look on Bane's face, he didn't remember either. "Don't," she spat at him, motioning with the gun as she backed away one step at a time. "If you slap me, if you touch me again, I will kill you."
This was the pivotal moment in her young life. She had finally had enough of being slapped around and beaten on. She decided to take control of her own life, for better or worse. She decided, right then and there, that she would never again be a victim.
He watched her, stunned. She wondered what he was going to do. He surprised her by laughing. "Alright," he said, holding his hands up. "Fine. I'm done with you. See if you can make it in the real world." He stopped laughing, but he still had a grin on his face. "But if I ever see your ugly face again, you better pray to whatever God you believe in, cause I'm gonna arrange the meeting. And I will make it painful, and I will make you suffer."
She didn't answer him, but the hands holding the pistol shook slightly. Keeping her sights trained on him, she backed up a step at a time until she reached the perimeter of the vacant lot. He let her go, still laughing in his slightly maniacal way. She gave him one last look before turning around and running in the opposite direction, knowing that the echo of his laughter would haunt her for years to come. She stuffed the gun in the pack still hanging around her shoulders, trying to put as much distance between her and Bane as possible before night fell on the city.
For the first time in her life, she was completely and totally alone.
I shook my hair out, feeling the wet strands pelt my face with luke-warm drops of water. I was in the showers on base, and luckily I had the place to myself. Sam had attempted to stay, but eventually the smell of day-old vomit drove her out of the washrooms. She had left with Cole to prepare the tank for the mission. He seemed glad to have her, promising me he'd take care of her. He had winked before he left, saying he was going to get me more 'firepower'. He had left before I could ask him what he meant.
My clothes were laying in a sodden pile in a sink, and I had changed into the only other clothes I owned; a black tank top and a pair of beige cargos. Luckily, the putrid stuff hadn't reached my boots, and it washed right off of my jacket, leaving behind only the faintest smell of rotten eggs.
Baird had given me fifteen minutes tops to shower and change before he'd leave without me. I didn't seriously think he would, but I decided not to push him. I ran my fingers through my wet hair, feeling them catch on tangles and pull on the dark locks. I watched myself in the mirror, still not used to the novelty of being able to look at myself in any reflective material worth looking into. Shaking my head at the woman in the mirror, I bent to tie my boot's laces.
Still squatting, I heard the door open but didn't see who had entered. "Hold on," I called out to them, pulling the laces tight before wrapping them once around my ankle. "I'll be out of your way in a sec."
"Oh, no rush," somebody called out, and I froze. It was a man's voice. Jumping to my feet, my hand immediately went to my holster. My missing holster. My pack, my sniper, and my pistol where all laying in a pile next to the shower stall- across the room, where I had taken them off. Shit...I thought to myself, and my eyes flickered to the intruder.
It was the same gear from breakfast, the one I had almost had fought at the cafeteria sinks. That same damn smile was in place as he nonchalantly reached over and clicked the bathroom door locked.
It was just me and him now. No Marcus, no Sam, and no way out.
He kicked the pile of weapons, giving it an unimpressed nod of the head. "You know," he said conversationally, "I couldn't believe my eyes yesterday when I saw you walk in with Delta squad. A piece of Stranded scum? Here?"
My hands curled into fists as I searched for a way out, never taking my eyes off of him for longer than a second. He strode toward me casually, not in a rush. He cracked his knuckles and then his neck, and I could see he was preparing for a fight. "I don't like Stranded," he said. "You wanna know why?" He didn't wait for me to answer. "I had a wife, a little girl. They're dead now. Weren't killed by locust. Not by the Hammer strikes, not by disease, not even by food shortages. They were slaughtered by pieces of Stranded scum, like yourself." His eyes narrowed, but he kept a small smirk on his lips, as if he was amused by the situation. "And now, I'm gonna slaughter you like you did my family."
I managed to duck the first punch by back stepping quickly, but then he swung his boot around and knocked me on my ass. He swung his foot back and then kicked at me, hard enough to break bones. I barely managed to spin out of the way and back to my feet. I held my fists in front of me in a defensive maneuver, but it would probably end up meaning nothing. He could punch through my arms if it so struck him to do so.
I ran for the door, crying out when he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me back. The wet locks sliding out of his grasp saved me from getting my face slammed into the wall. I kicked at him, which he sidestepped easily; grabbing me from behind the neck.
He used his handhold on my neck to toss me around like a rag doll. I took one hard slam to the wall and another to the stall door before I managed to wrench myself out of his grasp. I landed a punch on his jaw, hard enough to make his head snap back. Unfortunately, his reach was longer than mine. Before I could dance away, he grabbed both of my arms, yanking me closer to him.
Fighting to pull my wrist out of his grasp, I kicked at him desperately. Calm down! I heard Ace's voice coach me. Use his weight against him. He's bigger than you, but not smarter. Use that to your advantage. Taking one calming breath, I stopped trying to pull myself out of his grasp. Instead, I used his grip on my arms to pull myself upward, until I could wrap my legs around him in a vertical guard.
He didn't realize the trap he was in until it was too late. He let go of my arms to remove my legs from his waist, and I repeatedly punched him in the face. I felt his nose break against my fist, and he groaned. As he tried to grab my arms again, I sprang away from him, sprinting towards the door.
I had almost made it to the door when I felt him grab the strap of my tank top. Turning with the momentum his yank afforded me, I slammed my elbow into his face. He roared wordlessly at me, his face contorted in rage. Obviously, he didn't expect me to sever as such violent prey. This was different than the fight with Baird. That was just instinct, over and done with as quick as my temper flared. That, and Baird had been focusing on ending the fight, not killing me.
Too close...I thought to myself frantically. I was standing too close to him, and couldn't get away before he slammed his fist into my face.
I stumbled back, falling to my knees. My vision went black around the edges, as flashes of light danced in the air in front of me. I gasped for breath as my mind screamed at me to get up. I tried to stand, but my legs went out from under me. I was on all fours, trying to gather the strength to stand as he slowly stalked towards me.
"It's time to finish this," he said, and he cracked his knuckles once more.
I only had the energy to gasp a muffled "No..." He grabbed me around the neck, pulling me up until my feet floated half a foot above the tiled floor. He slammed me into the wall with one hand, pulling a knife with his other. I swallowed hard. This is it...
Just then, the bathroom banged open as someone booted it in. There was a flash of movement as my rescuer tackled the assailant. He dropped me, concerned with defending himself from the new threat. I sank to my knees, gasping for breath and rubbing my sore throat.
I ignored the new fight, crawling across the floor until I reached my guns. I pulled out my pistol, training it on the mosh-pit of flailing limbs and punches. Someone finally got control of the fight and yanked the murderous gear to his feet. "Get your sorry ass out of here!" a familiar voice snarled. I blinked, surprised.
...Baird?
The gear obviously was in over his head, and he knew it. He shoved Baird's hands away from him, sending me a scathing look. "This isn't over," he spat at me, and Baird shoved him towards the door.
"Yes it is," Baird said. "Cause if I ever see you around here again, I will kill you."
Baird gave him one last shove out of the door before kicking the it shut behind him. The door stayed closed, probably out of fear. Baird was breathing hard, glowering at the door before turning to me. "Holy hell," he said. "Do you always pick fights with guys twice your size, or is this a new hobby of yours?"
I sent him a scathing look, but didn't answer him. For a long moment, it was all I could do to breathe. I concentrated on the air flowing in, then out, then in. After I had that part mastered, I worked on getting up off the dingy floor. It took me a few heartbeats to remember how to move my legs, and even then they were shaky and threatened to collapse under me. Finally I made it to my feet, leaning on my sniper for balance. Baird didn't offer to help me up, but he did bend down and grab my pack. He eyed me cautiously. "You gonna live?
I nodded, massaging my throat. "I'll be fine." My voice was tight and raspy, and I took a drink of water to help clear it. Feeling the fear and panic set in after the initial adrenaline rush, I looked for something to distract me before I could lament on how close a call that was. My eyes settled on the door. "You broke the lock."
His blue eyes flickered over to the door, then back to me. "Yeah, well I fixed the thing in the first place. Guess I reserve the right to break it whenever I damn well please."
I shrugged slightly, wincing when it pulled my neck the wrong way. I gave him a mildly frustrated look. "You couldn't have gotten here five minutes earlier?"
He sneered, "Hey, just be glad I was here at all. I told you, fifteen minutes and I'm leaving without you. You're just lucky Cole likes you."
Rolling my eyes, I said, "Great, well thanks for the help. Now, if I throw a stick, will you go away?" I had a massive headache, my knuckles were throbbing and bleeding, and all I wanted was to be alone for a minute to collect myself. I could feel the after-shakes coming, and I didn't want Baird to see me weak.
He started to say something, paused, and then nodded once. "That was a good one," he said appreciatively.
"Glad you enjoyed it," I deadpanned.
It was quiet for a moment while we both tried to think of something to stay. I had just started limping for the door when I heard Baird ask, "Who taught you how to fight?"
"What?" I asked, trying to follow the change in conversation.
He motioned towards the wall that still had a streak of blood down it- my blood. "I've seen Ramos fight before. You have to be pretty decent to still be alive."
Alive, I thought to myself. Well, that's debatable. I eyed him, wondering whether or not to tell the truth. "Ace," I finally answered him. "Private Ace Martinez. He taught me how to defend myself against bigger opponents, among other things."
Baird nodded once, accepting my answer, before switching topics. "Come on," he said. "Cole and Dom will nag me to death if I don't get you do a doc."
I really didn't want to go back to the clinic, but my throat wasn't up for arguing. He wrenched the door open with some difficulty, then walked through first. He didn't check to see if I was following. I thought about just heading over to the garages where the rest of Delta would probably be, then I remember my pack that he still carried. Sighing, I set off after him.
A day with the infamous Damon Baird. What a treat...
I followed along behind him, not speaking. My head was pounding, and my cheek stung from where it had been slammed into the wall repeatedly. Still, it beat the hell out of being dead. I felt dismayed when I realized I had Baird to thank for that. I swallowed my pride and said "Thanks, for…you know…"
He looked at me, surprised. "Thanks for what?" he asked. He seemed to me as the guy who didn't get appreciation often, keeping people at bay with his sharp tongue and sarcasm. That was something I could understand.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Oh, nothing. Just for saving my life, that's all."
"Oh," he said. I blinked, waiting for a sarcastic comeback. Maybe a 'Yeah, don't remind me', or an 'Maybe I shouldn't have bothered.' I grew worried when he didn't respond. His blue eyes were dark, and the lopsided sneer I'd begun to associate with him was noticeably missing.
"We're even now," was all he said.
My eyebrows knitted together. "Even how?" I asked.
He grunted, exasperated, and I realized that he didn't want to have this conversation any more than I did. The muscle on his jaw flexed as he answered. "You saved my ass twice. I just paid you back in full."
It took me a second, but then I realized what he was talking about. When we had first 'met', I had shot past Baird with my sniper, killing a grub that had been sneaking up on his six. Later, I had mirrored the shot while in the abandoned research facility. That fact must have bothered him, just as it bothered me to have Marcus and Dom looking out for me.
I gave him a small smile, signaling that I understood. "I don't know…" I drawled. "Maybe you owe me one more. I did spare your life in the fight this morning."
He snorted. The sarcastic banter was much more his style, and he easily switched gears. "Yeah, well...I could have shot you in the Centaur when you were robbing us blind. I repeat, we're even.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "I could shoot you now."
"No you couldn't," he answered immediately, smirking at me. "You wouldn't shoot an unarmed man."
Without hesitating, I pulled my pistol with my right hand. Immediately, he grabbed my wrist and held my firing arm above my head, using the bulk of his body to push me against the hallway wall. We stayed there for a beat, pressed against each other while his warm, rough hands held my wrists above my head. All my senses were filled with him; his blue eyes watching me from underneath raised eyebrows, his scent filling my lungs, his blond hair with a pair of goggles perched on top. For some odd reason, I didn't react. Maybe because of his actions in the bathroom, I didn't feel in danger as I was trapped, pressed against the wall by his muscular body. He gently plucked the pistol out of my grip, and I let him take it without fighting him.
I gave him a small smile. "Doesn't count. You were expecting it."
"I'm always expecting it," he said, moving away from me. The hallway felt drafty and cold without his warm body next to mine.
That was probably true. Gears had battle-hardened reflexes. They could react to a threat in the blink in the eye. The ones who couldn't were dead now. "Yes, please tell me how much better you are than everyone. I never tire of hearing it.
He nodded, handing me my pistol grip-first. "Hmm...how about the fact that I know almost everything about almost everything?"
I rolled my eyes, holstering the weapon. "Screw you, Baird."
He laughed as he opened the door to the clinic. "Yeah, okay. Screw you too, Bri."
He ducked inside the clinic, calling out an "Who do I have to shoot to get a doctor around here?" I paused, trying to tamp down the grin I felt working its way onto my lips.
It was the first time he called me by my name, and not just 'that damned Stranded chick', and that small detail made me happier than it should have.
The doctors cleared me after a short examination. Surprisingly, Baird had stuck around while the doctors did their poking/prodding bit. We walked back to the garages together, Baird saying some colorful things to Marcus over the radio, questioning his manhood and telling him to do some pretty interesting things with his lancer when Marcus asked what was taking so damn long.
Dom and Cole, as predicted, almost had joint heart attacks when they saw my face, mottled with fresh bruises. Before I could explain, Dom went after Baird, threatening him with a ton of remarkable things he would do to his anatomy if Baird ever laid a hand on me again. I found his tirade amusing, but Baird cut him off early, explaining what exactly had happened. I shrugged off their concern, telling them that I didn't need them 'mothering' me like a bunch of old hens. That made them back off pretty fast.
Cole had fulfilled his promise of getting me some more 'firepower', and my new lancer rested between my legs. At first I had refused, but I found that Cole never took 'no' for an answer. That was what happened when an unstoppable force met an unmovable object. The unmovable object got a new gun. He teased me and made me feel guilty until I accepted the extravagant gift. We did a quick How-Not-To-Chop-Your-Foot-Off-Or-Shoot-Baird-In-The-Ass lesson, and I felt comfortable with the weapon. I had shot lancers before, with Ace, but I was a bit rusty. The lancer was a difficult gun to shoot, with the chainsaw bayonet making it front-heavy. I had a lot of upper body strength; you didn't last long on the streets if you didn't. I was still a bit unwieldy with it, hopefully I wouldn't have to use it much on our first mission out.
We were riding along in the Centaur as Baird drove, heading to where I could only assume Nexus was, the locust capital city. I wasn't sure how I felt about this. On one hand, I was excited to finally be doing something important, something that could actually make a difference. On the other, I was scared shitless. I was woefully unprepared for this undertaking. I'm sure locating and attacking an enemies' city sounded fun and easy when you were six-foot, two-hundred something pounds, and wearing enough armor that could break another man's bones if applied with sufficient force. But being five-five, a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet? That plan lost a bit of its glow.
Of course, this only made me wonder why the hell I was with Delta in the first place. Other members of the squad, namely Baird, had expressed these curiosities as well. Marcus just silenced them with a stern look and a gruff "She's staying." From time to time I found those calculating ice-blue eyes watching me, trying to unravel me like a puzzle. I was half tempted to hold out my arms and yell at him, "What? What's so interesting about me? What you see is what you get, now will you leave me alone?" but of course I didn't.
It was mostly quiet on the drive north. Occasionally they'd throw around some well-meaning barbs, but everybody was distracted, psyching themselves up for the mission ahead. We had gotten a late start, with the 'bathroom brawl' as Baird called it, and Cole's inopportune lancer lesson. It was now late afternoon, and the sun was just starting to think about sinking, casting faint shadows through the Centaur's windows. I was pressed to the door in the backseat, rammed in next to Dom who sat next to Marcus. Cole had claimed shotgun, and nobody protested it. Eyeing his enormous bulk, I could understand why. Sam was laying in the rear cargo hold, slowly adjusting to the shake and rumble of the tank.
My head pounded incessantly as I rested it on the mettle side of the tank. My stitches from the fall out of the building burned from being aggravated so much these past couple days. I knew instinctively that there would be a huge hand print bruise flowering on my sore neck. I felt Sam pop her head up above the head rest, gently placing her head on my shoulder. I gave her a weak smile, rubbing her ears. "Good girl," I whispered, and she licked my face. Somehow she sensed my mood, and was there to cheer me up. I gave her a few more pats before commanding her to lay down. She halfway obeyed; choosing to sit against the back of my seat.
I slowly spun the chain on my bayonet as the miles passed unendingly beneath our tires. It was a hell of a lot faster than walking, but being encased in something, even something as sturdy as the Centaur, made me feel uneasy. It was the feeling of having nowhere to run if push came to shove. I preferred to have my boots on the ground, and the sky within eyesight whenever possible. That, and the slightly nauseating rocking of the tires didn't help things much. Feeling slightly sick, I popped open the turret hatch for a breath of fresh air, and to get a feel for my surroundings.
It took me a minute to orient myself, but when I did I was left feeling sicker than ever. Oh no…I thought to myself. "Baird?" I questioned, the slightest tone of panic evident only to me.
His stark "Whaddya want?" came from the drivers seat.
"Stop the tank."
He didn't slow. "What? Why?" he asked.
I ducked back into the cabin to yell at him. "Because I said so!" I snapped, thumping the back of his chair once with my hand. "Now do it!"
I missed his snide remark as I popped back up through the hatch, eyes straining to see into the urban jungle of abandoned and degraded buildings. Before he completely stopped, I reached down to grab my new lancer. I hefted myself out of the tank, jumping down the sides and landing with a quiet thump!
I did a slow scan of the territory surrounding me and the tank. I didn't see anybody, but I knew they were there. I heard somebody get out of the tank to back me up, but I motioned for them to stay there.
Stalking forward, my light boot falls were the only sound on the abandoned street. It was calm; nobody shouting or screaming, no shaking ground signaling a grub incursion, no nothing. That was what worried me.
"Hey!" I yelled, as loud as my still-sore throat would allow. "Don't shoot! It's me!"
Nobody responded, but I knew instinctively that they heard. I could point out every single one of the guard stations that had eyes on us, although I couldn't actually see them. I knew where they were, cause I had spent hours helping set them up and man them.
Dom walked up on my six. "Bri?" he asked hesitantly. "Wanna fill us in?"
I didn't answer, waiting for someone to come out and meet us. They knew where I was, just as well as I knew where we were. This place had been my refuge, and my home, ever since I had been strong-armed out of Jacinto.
We were at the Stranded camp.
Author's Note- Whoo! Another chapter, baby! ...And now I sound like Cole.
Sorry for the wait, but this is my longest chapter back, by far. Please excuse any errors you find; I didn't get a chance to have this beta'd. I wanted to have this out asap, seeing as the next chapter is almost finished. Nobody's fault, and I'm sure you can dismiss a spelling error here or there for the chance to have this now, instead of a week from now.
Anything you want to see happen? I'm planning to put more Sam in, just cause she's been taking a back seat lately. That, and she's too awesome of a character to not be in the limelight every once in a while. And what about Baird? Is he finally coming around? Maybe there's hope for Blondie yet!
And here it is. Me shamelessly pleading for reviews and feedback. Please, please, please leave a review! You guys have no idea how happy they make me! This is my most reviewed/favorited story yet. And I accept unsigned reviews, so you don't even have to log in! Just make sure you leave me your pen name, and I'll make sure you get the preview you deserve! Thank you!
