ACT TWO, PART ONE

He made it... he made it! And he evaded capture by the Toppats! Granted one of them screeched after him from outside, but he considered it a big success nevertheless. A small smile of relief crept onto his face as he fell against a wall. He wiped the sweat off his brow and caught his breath. So nice and cool in here. But though tempted as he may have been at the idea of just sitting and soaking in the brisk air, he still needed to keep going. He could not rest or dwell on his victory for long when his life hung in the balance.

Looking up, he took note of the room - nothing interesting to see but a bunch of boxes on shelves and equipment to move them. The room's dimensions, length and width certainly allowed enough space to house all of them. He used a nearby box to help him climb to his feet. Just as he was about to stand to full height, something slick and cold brushed against his fingers on the box. He looked down and saw what it was he touched -

A red sticker branded in large text and contained a single word - 'Fragile'.

...

Thoughts turned back in time to that day at the prison.

This day was turning out to be the best one of his life EVER! He made his first arrest, personally put the criminal behind bars, and had the best partner, and friend, ever by his side. He even attended his first official meeting and shared coffee with the seasoned officers. And all within his first days as a rookie police officer too! Things went so well his heart brimmed with happiness and pride all day.

Then It happened.

After the meeting, he went about his daily rounds. Patrolling on through each of the prison floors, everything was quiet and normal. Lax, even. So lax he considered heading out and grabbing some lunch from Sandwich City with his friend on their break. The day outside looked and felt so beautiful and warm and he wanted to take full advantage of it. But any and all future lunch plans did not come to fruition, for something else grabbed his attention.

On the seventeenth floor, in the lounge area, sat a stray package marked with a large word in red. 'Fragile.'

"Oh, a package, huh?"

And the rest? Deemed history - including his police officer career once he picked up that cursed box.

He hunched over and wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing tightly in comfort. Now he knew how boxes containing delicate objects felt when given that 'fragile' title. And it made him shake like a leaf."I think I'm gonna be sick. I-I have to get away from here!"

Looking around, he found what he searched for - another door. He immediately took off towards it, and when he reached it, he jiggled the door handle and thankfully, it was open. He tore it open and once on the other side, he slammed it behind him. Breathing heavily, he clutched his head and chest as he absorbed air to breeze over his nerves. Soon his breathing gradually evened out and his stomach stopped churning his insides. He returned his concentration back to his goal.

He found himself in a wide hallway, devoid of life or doors. "Well... maybe this will be easier than I thought. Maybe there won't be any Toppats around here." His headache attacked him again. He hissed as the pain severely pounded inside his head. "Okay, maybe not THAT easier. There's gotta be a first aid kit somewhere here." Breathing a deep breath of courage, he pulled himself with all his weight and followed the direction of the hallway. At first, nothing unusual stuck out to him. But he soon rounded a corner and his face fell.

He found a fully lit hallway with many closed doors. Any of them could contain either help or danger - medical supplies or armed Toppats in hiding.

He threw his throbbing head into his palms. "Great."


"Oh great!" That little twerp, such a coward! Running off like that. But her problems spanned beyond worrying about one lowly non-Toppat personnel.

Even as the Toppat woman continued crying for a miracle, her prayers went unanswered. The fires continued to prowl as they tore into everything they could touch with their scathing claws. How much longer could she yell until her voice gave out? Regardless, she didn't want to perish here. And neither did she want her fellow criminals to get caught in the fire's path. Assuming they were merely knocked out and not the alternative. But most of all? She really did not want what was left of the clan to disintegrate into a pile of ashes. The very thought of it -

It scared her far more than her broken leg, and it showed on her face. Hot tears of pain and fear drifted down her cheeks as her pleas became increasingly desperate. The Toppat clan couldn't end here, not now! There had to be someone, anyone out there who could hear her and come to the rescue.

A faint set of whirring blades in the sky hooked her eyes upwards. A helicopter?... yes it was a helicopter! But her squinting eyes sent a warning to her brain - that was no ordinary helicopter. No to her growing dread, it was green, stamped with a large star... no. No way. It was them - the military! And to make matters worse, a small flock of them hovered from up above!

Heaving and puffing, she pushed herself onto her elbows and dragged her body away from the wreckage. Under the jungle heat, the newly anointed Atlas felt as though she carried the very weight of the Toppat's fate on her back. But she persisted, crawling away from the destruction zone and to a nearby motionless Toppat. He had to be awake, he had to! She needed his help. She would rather fight for survival and protect the clan than surrender to those government attack dogs.

But if she cleared her mind of every emotion running through it, her common sense would have successfully warned her to be careful of her wishes.


The jeep's radio hummed to life once more and Charles' voice was heard. "Calling General Galeforce, come in. I have another visual, over."

Galeforce picked up the receiver and answered back, "Yes, Charlie? What have you got? Over."

"The man with the black cap got inside the warehouse so as far as I know he's safe. And that Toppat with the broken leg? She's starting to crawl towards one of the Toppats. She's also - wait, I'm receiving more information from the other pilots. One minute, sir. Over." After another warbled exchange intercepted in their aerial network, Charles reported back quickly, "Sir, the Toppats know we're here! Some of them are starting to wake up and huddle together and take cover behind some of the rocket pieces. They've even got weapons and are firing on us! We'd better find that guy inside the warehouse fast and take these guys in before he's found!"

Galeforce, with a steady but urgent voice, ordered, "Say no more! Keep them from entering the building. Go down on foot and engage in combat if you have to, but be careful. I'll send reinforcements now, over and out!" He flipped a switch, changing frequencies. Directing his voice over the communicator to the jeeps behind him, he commanded, "Attention, all personnel! The Toppats are reviving fast from the crash! We'll be launching an all-out-assault, so every one of you drive ahead and get into that compound! If you see Henry Stickmin, Reginald Copperbottom or the Right Hand Man, keep them at bay and don't let them escape the compound. But before you rush ahead, take warning: there is an innocent civilian on the base - he's injured in the leg and will be wearing a black baseball cap. If you spot him, do not fight him; protect him!

"Repeat: get into the compound! Fight the Toppats and protect that civilian! Go now! Over and out!"

The first car to obey that order shot forward like a rocket. It was piloted by twin brothers in green and red in spirit - Calvin and Konrad Bukowski.

The eldest by two minutes, Konrad, slung a cocky grin to his leader. "We'll take it from here, sir! Let's go, bro!" Calvin, the driver, put on a burst of fuel and together the brothers and their brothers-in-combat in the jeep charged with the other soldiers tearing the road from behind.

Watching the eager fighters go, John quipped, "Sounds like a good time."

"That's why I'm sending all of you. Your objective will be to apprehend Henry, Reginald and/or the the Right Hand Man. Good luck out there, team. Rupert." The young soldier side-eyed his superior and listened. "You and I will look for this civilian and bring him back to our base for medical attention. Should we come across any of the Toppat elites, we will fight but we will NOT kill unless necessary. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

"Then let's take the fight to them! Punch it now!"

But little did he know that the soldiers in the jeep would have an extra hand in the upcoming fight.


Dave shot his head up, his ears picking up new sounds like radar. Either his headache graduated into a full on concussion and he was hearing things, or he was hearing alarms blasting into the troposphere and his headache stung again. But he moved urgently, uncaring about if and what appeared from behind those doors.

Trudging past them, he stumbled into another hallway, this one also empty and full of potential enemies or goods. The alarms outside grew louder and shot his heart rate up into the stratosphere. What was happening out there?

"Did someone see me and they raised the alarm? That's gotta be the only explanation why! But then how come anybody hasn't found me yet when that woman saw me come in here? Not that I want to be found but -"

A barrel of gunfire gunned down his thoughts. Now there was shooting? Why?! What was going on?!

He berated himself. Why was he wasting time asking these questions? He had to go, go, go! And that's what he did. But the further he passed hallways and doors, the more they blurred and resembled more of a maze than a building. But he didn't want to stop now when he had this free advantage to take.

His head attacked him and he threw a hand to his head to nurse it once more. He needed a first-aid kit now. And that meant picking and entering a room. Toppats or no Toppats. And so, the next door he spotted, a deep breath was taken and a leap of faith was made.

His leap took him into a clean and empty room, white as snow and shiny as glass. Locked doors to individual stalls stood attached to the wall ahead of him while off to the side, white marble sinks were adjoined to the stalls with a paper towel dispenser located nearby. Underneath the sinks, doors to small cabinets could be seen and opened. A trash can was to his left in the entryway while a fire extinguisher hung on the wall to his right.

The bathroom.

Immediately Dave went for the cabinets. Opening the doors, he sighed in elation and almost laughed in merriment - a first aid kit! He took it out, opened the kit and immediately began to work. Taking a few paper towels, he quickly turned on the faucet, drenched them and then turned the sink off. He rolled up his right pannel and focused on his calf, the most vital wound to be treated. Patting, patting, patting, he bit his lower lip fiercely as the wound's pain sank into his leg. Dried blood became wet again, but it slid off of his skin as he cleaned the wound and applied pressure to the injury. After he was satisfied with his results, he took off his hat and did the same thing to his head wound. Luckily, this one didn't hurt as much, but he still kept going even as the pain threatened his goal.

Afterwards, he reached for a small tube of antibiotics. He hesitated briefly before opening the cap of this ointment - applying this medicine would undoubtably sting like a thousand hornets more than water and pressure alone. But the increasing gunfire and yelling and warfare outside pushed him out of his hesitation. He squeezed the tube and out came a pea-sized portion of a white and cream-like substance. Placing the dot on his finger, he directed his finger over his calf first, smoothing the ointment over the wound. "Ow," he whimpered. But he kept going until he was certain there was enough of the ointment to help heal the wound. He repeated the process for his head.

Finally, he took out a few band-aids - both in the needed proper sizes for his injuries. He applied one small one and one moderate-sized one, both covering his hurts perfectly. At last, respite was possible and he could be alright. But he couldn't revel in his victory - he still had to leave the premises.

"C'mon Dave, you got this." He hastily put the kit back into the cabinet. And then, pushing himself to his height, his legs felt and shook like jelly, but he managed to stand straight and tall. And that was when he remembered the fire extinguisher. An idea struck him.

And that was when Dave, although hurt and very much outnumbered, stepped out of the bathroom with weapon at hand. It may not have been the most practical weapon, but he wasn't about to let these crooks catch him and catch him unawares again.

Although the fire extinguisher felt heavier than normal, perhaps due to his limited strength and energy, he carried it with him and resumed his journey to freedom through the halls.


A/N: True facts - Neosporin or something akin to the ointment before applying a band-aid to a cut or wound will stop any foreign bacteria from entering the body. But Dave will need more than antibiotics to help him heal after the fight is over.

Also! This is a special month for this story, as I published and updated this story last year. So what better way than to celebrate than with a new chapter? :)

References:
-Sandwich City sounds like quite the place to go for food, according to Mr. Chuck Sammids in the Lawyered Up ending from Escaping the Prison.

-Atlas carries the weight of the world on his back, and so does this poor Toppat woman. In Greek mythology, he's one of the Titans, forever condemned to hold up the earth and skies. How many of us have felt like him?

Enjoy!