***
Flint stood alone outside the challenge's headquarters tent, his expression revealing nothing except grim determination. A dry heat crackled in the air and the dust swirled in a blast of warm wind. It covered his body, sticking to the dampness of his uniform. Sweat trickled down his brow and stung his eyes. It'll get hotter, Flint thought, glancing at his watch. Still morning.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Duke's team load supplies in the jeeps, remembering the fight from the night before. Hawk's little mission of teamwork had backfired and the damage seemed irrecoverable. A line had been crossed, only slightly, but enough to widen the rift to a type of estrangement - one that went beyond testosterone. It was personal now.
Deep down, Flint knew his anger towards Duke was partly misplaced. Guilt wormed its way into his mind. His fears had been confirmed: all was not well with Lady Jaye. It didn't take a rocket-scientist to figure that one out. Over the last few months, he had put the brakes on the relationship in not-so-subtle ways: wiggling his way out of time together, teasing without tact, not calling... Withdrawing. It was the pattern he had mastered after years of casual dating: hit the panic button and back away slowly. Before they knew it, he was gone.
This time, it wasn't so simple. The more he tried to hurt her, make her surrender and give up, the more Flint wanted to erase what he had done.
What good am I to her anyway? Flint thought, anger suddenly expanding in his chest. We want - no need - something completely different. There's no room for compromise.
He spotted Gung-Ho jogging towards him and quickly blocked out Lady Jaye's face.
"Flint, my man, come here to cheer for the Joe Team?" Gung-Ho said, smiling warmly at the warrant officer. His smile quickly turned into a frown when he saw the look in Flint's dark eyes. They glinted with anger and something else Gung-Ho couldn't place. "Alright, what's going on?"
"COBRA crawled out from under its rock," Flint said. "We've lost contact with all the teams. Last thing that came through was a distress call. Scarlett's hurt."
Gung-Ho exhaled loudly. "Don't know how bad?"
Flint shook his head.
"And we don't know anything about-"
"I've TOLD you all I know," Flint snapped. He looked away. "Sorry, Gung-Ho. I'm just a little 'annoyed.'"
"Understood."
"There's two teams outside," Flint said. "I'm leading one, Duke's leading the-"
"Duke's here also?"
Flint nodded. "Hawk's idea, not ours. You're going with him so grab a pack and head out."
"Will do." Gung-Ho went to leave.
"Gung-Ho?"
"Yes, Flint?"
Flint paused, choosing his words carefully. "Did Lady Jaye seem okay to you?"
"Okay?"
"I mean - was she performing up to her abilities?"
"Sure," Gung-Ho shrugged. "A little drained, I guess. All that training and stuff. Anything wrong, Flint?"
Flint opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. "It's nothing." He shook his head, as if snapping out of a daydream, and said with more certainty: "It's nothing."
***
"How's the face, Scarlett?" Beachhead asked, surveying their surroundings from on top of a rock.
He watched her struggle to form words. "No, wait, don't tell me."
Lady Jaye put a fresh piece of gauze on her teammate's mouth and nose, catching the blood as it dribbled down her chin. "Lil' sis," Jaye said, affectionately stroking Scarlett's hair.
Scarlett made a fist.
"I know, I know, Shana. I'm the lil' sis."
"You think her nose is broken?" Roadblock asked.
Scarlett nodded vehemently. She tried to ignore the pain as her face throbbed in the heat. Her head started to hurt also: dehydration. She could barely swallow her water. All she wanted to do was pass out.
"Thank god!" Roadblock suddenly exclaimed, pointing off into the distance. A white van with a red cross sped towards them. "Medics!"
Scarlett sighed inwardly and sat down on the ground, trying to control the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her.
The van braked sharply in front of them.
"Anyone call in for a medic?" a man said, jumping out.
"Hell yeah!" Beachhead said. "What took you so long?"
"We're having problems across the board," the man said apologetically. "The medical team is spread pretty thin. Some of the 'obstacles' are a little hard this year."
"I'll say," Roadblock grumbled. "We just got attacked by two Chewbaccas."
The medic look puzzled, but then quickly covered it with a shrug. "Yeah, it's supposed to be a tough competition. First things first, let's get this soldier out of here." He pulled out a stretcher from the van. "Help me strap her in."
Scarlett lay herself down on the stretcher and let them tie her down. It felt as comfortable as any five-star hotel's bed.
"You guys throwing in the towel or are you still competing? An injury counts as a penalty, but you've still got a chance."
The other Joes looked at Scarlett. "Don't you dare stop," she croaked.
"Are you sure, Shana?" Lady Jaye said, touching her arm. "Wait. Don't talk. You're always sure."
They lifted her into the back of the van.
"Don't worry about her," the medic smiled. "She's in good hands now."
"She better be," Beachhead growled.
The man jumped into the front seat and peered out the window. "Now, if you guys have any problems, don't be afraid to radio us. That's what those transmitters are for."
He hit the gas and sped off.
Lady Jaye stood studying the van as it drove away.
"Anything wrong, Jaye?" Roadblock said, putting his hand on her shoulder.
"Did you hear Scarlett yell something from the back?"
"Nope."
"Huh. Could've sworn I heard something."
***
Flint stood alone outside the challenge's headquarters tent, his expression revealing nothing except grim determination. A dry heat crackled in the air and the dust swirled in a blast of warm wind. It covered his body, sticking to the dampness of his uniform. Sweat trickled down his brow and stung his eyes. It'll get hotter, Flint thought, glancing at his watch. Still morning.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Duke's team load supplies in the jeeps, remembering the fight from the night before. Hawk's little mission of teamwork had backfired and the damage seemed irrecoverable. A line had been crossed, only slightly, but enough to widen the rift to a type of estrangement - one that went beyond testosterone. It was personal now.
Deep down, Flint knew his anger towards Duke was partly misplaced. Guilt wormed its way into his mind. His fears had been confirmed: all was not well with Lady Jaye. It didn't take a rocket-scientist to figure that one out. Over the last few months, he had put the brakes on the relationship in not-so-subtle ways: wiggling his way out of time together, teasing without tact, not calling... Withdrawing. It was the pattern he had mastered after years of casual dating: hit the panic button and back away slowly. Before they knew it, he was gone.
This time, it wasn't so simple. The more he tried to hurt her, make her surrender and give up, the more Flint wanted to erase what he had done.
What good am I to her anyway? Flint thought, anger suddenly expanding in his chest. We want - no need - something completely different. There's no room for compromise.
He spotted Gung-Ho jogging towards him and quickly blocked out Lady Jaye's face.
"Flint, my man, come here to cheer for the Joe Team?" Gung-Ho said, smiling warmly at the warrant officer. His smile quickly turned into a frown when he saw the look in Flint's dark eyes. They glinted with anger and something else Gung-Ho couldn't place. "Alright, what's going on?"
"COBRA crawled out from under its rock," Flint said. "We've lost contact with all the teams. Last thing that came through was a distress call. Scarlett's hurt."
Gung-Ho exhaled loudly. "Don't know how bad?"
Flint shook his head.
"And we don't know anything about-"
"I've TOLD you all I know," Flint snapped. He looked away. "Sorry, Gung-Ho. I'm just a little 'annoyed.'"
"Understood."
"There's two teams outside," Flint said. "I'm leading one, Duke's leading the-"
"Duke's here also?"
Flint nodded. "Hawk's idea, not ours. You're going with him so grab a pack and head out."
"Will do." Gung-Ho went to leave.
"Gung-Ho?"
"Yes, Flint?"
Flint paused, choosing his words carefully. "Did Lady Jaye seem okay to you?"
"Okay?"
"I mean - was she performing up to her abilities?"
"Sure," Gung-Ho shrugged. "A little drained, I guess. All that training and stuff. Anything wrong, Flint?"
Flint opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. "It's nothing." He shook his head, as if snapping out of a daydream, and said with more certainty: "It's nothing."
***
"How's the face, Scarlett?" Beachhead asked, surveying their surroundings from on top of a rock.
He watched her struggle to form words. "No, wait, don't tell me."
Lady Jaye put a fresh piece of gauze on her teammate's mouth and nose, catching the blood as it dribbled down her chin. "Lil' sis," Jaye said, affectionately stroking Scarlett's hair.
Scarlett made a fist.
"I know, I know, Shana. I'm the lil' sis."
"You think her nose is broken?" Roadblock asked.
Scarlett nodded vehemently. She tried to ignore the pain as her face throbbed in the heat. Her head started to hurt also: dehydration. She could barely swallow her water. All she wanted to do was pass out.
"Thank god!" Roadblock suddenly exclaimed, pointing off into the distance. A white van with a red cross sped towards them. "Medics!"
Scarlett sighed inwardly and sat down on the ground, trying to control the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her.
The van braked sharply in front of them.
"Anyone call in for a medic?" a man said, jumping out.
"Hell yeah!" Beachhead said. "What took you so long?"
"We're having problems across the board," the man said apologetically. "The medical team is spread pretty thin. Some of the 'obstacles' are a little hard this year."
"I'll say," Roadblock grumbled. "We just got attacked by two Chewbaccas."
The medic look puzzled, but then quickly covered it with a shrug. "Yeah, it's supposed to be a tough competition. First things first, let's get this soldier out of here." He pulled out a stretcher from the van. "Help me strap her in."
Scarlett lay herself down on the stretcher and let them tie her down. It felt as comfortable as any five-star hotel's bed.
"You guys throwing in the towel or are you still competing? An injury counts as a penalty, but you've still got a chance."
The other Joes looked at Scarlett. "Don't you dare stop," she croaked.
"Are you sure, Shana?" Lady Jaye said, touching her arm. "Wait. Don't talk. You're always sure."
They lifted her into the back of the van.
"Don't worry about her," the medic smiled. "She's in good hands now."
"She better be," Beachhead growled.
The man jumped into the front seat and peered out the window. "Now, if you guys have any problems, don't be afraid to radio us. That's what those transmitters are for."
He hit the gas and sped off.
Lady Jaye stood studying the van as it drove away.
"Anything wrong, Jaye?" Roadblock said, putting his hand on her shoulder.
"Did you hear Scarlett yell something from the back?"
"Nope."
"Huh. Could've sworn I heard something."
***