In spite of its new lack of effective depth perception, the Cyber-Dragon still had every intention of tracking down and killing those two humans for the damage they'd done to him. Sure, its arm has exploded, and it had lost the CPUs, but it could probably still flatten them.
By the time it had finished calibrating itself, Luke had run from behind Harmod's to a new store across the street, the creature surprisingly not paying attention to the sandy-beige blob that moved across its line of sight.
Meanwhile, Josh was trying to move the CPUs down the street via the classic technique made famous by PAYDAY 2; Move one forwards, then put them down, then go back for another, move them forwards, then go back for another, and so on.
It was his least favourite type of bag chaining, especially since if he dropped these bags too hard, they'd probably die. "At least you're light..." he muttered, picking up Lady Blanc and scurrying between the aisles of parked cars to place her down beside Lady Noire and Lady vert. His legs weren't hurting nearly as much as they should have been, especially considering his thirty foot drop, but he supposed that being under General Platinum's training regime probably had a hand in making his legs practically invulnerable to long falls.
Regardless, he was making progress; The blockade down the street was much closer, now, so he'd nearly gotten the CPUs out of the danger zone. As he scurried along with Lady Neptune under his arm, he pressed his radio again. "Chaz, are we nearly set up?"
The silence came for a second, then Chaz's background noise became apparent. "Almost there. Probably about two miles out, on the other side of the tower."
"Excellent," Josh nodded, "Luke, you get that?"
"Always do..." muttered the Irishman. "And James, I take it your affairs are in order?"
The response came seconds later. "Oi, shut up, I'm riskin' life and limb, here," retorted the sniper. Luke scoffed loudly.
"Sent your 'Goodbye' text to that Mina lass?"
"Shut the fuck up, Luke. Least I'm gettin' somewhere with her."
"Guys, this isn't the time to discuss women," Josh groaned, looking around. "I'm almost at the edge of the evacuation zone. The CPUs are starting to shift around, too. Luke, I take it you're in position?"
"Almost."
"Well, hurry up, because Chaz is almost here. Keep speed up, Chaz."
"I'm trying to," came the pilot's response. "We'll need to start the plan in the next ten seconds, or this arsehole's gonna see me coming."
"Alright. Luke, get in position. James, you remember your part?"
James sighed, and pulled out his laser pointer. "Unfortunately, I do." He put the small pointer to the lens of his rifle scope, then turned to the family behind him. "You guys should probably evacuate the buildin'."
After a hesitation, the mother and father both nodded, and practically dragged their kids out of the apartment. James was left sat at their window, rifle ready. He adjusted his cap brow and headset, then waited for the order.
The Cyber-Dragon was now slowly scanning the street to try and find Luke and Josh. The white glow in its chest was clearly visible, and James had the best way of turning that light off.
Loaded into his Arctic Warfare was one of the fifty high-explosive rounds that had been issued to him along with his original arsenal of weapons. It was effectively the same as an impact-primed grenade, except that it would embed in the object, and after a three second delay, explode.
He was kicking himself for not using them sooner, but he supposed he probably didn't need them to fight regular monsters. Besides, this arsehole deserved it.
With his right index finger on the trigger, and his left hand pointing a laser down the scope, he narrowed his eye through the small gap he had to see the target with.
Then, the radio kicked in, again.
"Let's rock and roll, James."
He grinned, and flicked the 'ON' switch for the laser.
Five miles away, a split second later, the light hit the Cyber-Dragon's body. It didn't notice, obviously, but it did still have a lot of brightness to it.
"Perfect," Josh said, squinting to look down the street. "Get it in the eye. A bit of adjustment upwards."
"On it," James replied. He then made a few very minute movements to his rifle, slightly moving the pointer steadily up the Dragon's body, until...
The beast let out a brief, surprised roar, shuffling back and batting at its eye as the laser went into it. It presumed it was a sensor issue.
Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Chaz's Apache swing around the side of the Planeptune tower, with a lot of speed behind it and the Challenger dangling underneath.
Everything was going to plan, so far.
"Hit it again!" Josh cried. James obliged, pointing the laser to hit the dragon's eye for a second time, prompting it to start smacking the side of its head to try and fix the clearly faulty optical sensor.
James was secretly quite thankful it didn't see where it was getting blinded from, otherwise it'd probably fuck him up with miniguns.
Chaz picked up speed, sweeping the Challenger low into the street and just above parked cars, sailing it along the ground at speed. Josh saw it coming, and smiled.
"James! One more time!" he yelled excitedly. James smiled, and did it again.
This time, the dragon identified where it was being blinded from, and shielded its' eye from the glare, turning to face where James was hiding.
His heart nearly stopped.
"Oh, fuck me."
He snapped the trigger backwards, firing off the explosive round.
As the dragon prepared to raise its cannon, a few seconds passed before something slammed into its crystalline core. For a moment, it hesitated, and looked down at it.
Then, it was forced to stagger backwards as the small bullet detonated with the force of two hand grenades, practically shattering the entire crystal in one go. The roar this time was absolutely ear-shattering, the dragon stumbling backwards as smoke and fire billowed from the hole in its chest. It almost tripped over on a lorry, stepping on countless cars as it stumbled around.
"I've done all I can!" James said quickly, gathering up his equipment and making a break for the door. "Down to you lads, now!"
Josh heard him, and changed radio frequency. "Chaz! Now! Do it NOW!" he screamed.
Chaz, behind his visor, smiled, and tugged at the stick of his Apache to veer it upwards. The dragon had just noticed him, and tried to make a wild swipe at him to take him out. Before it could, Chaz launched a small volley of machinegun fire at it, staggering it once more and halting the strike.
Then, the pilot braced himself, and flew over the dragon's head.
A second later, the full force of a seventy-ton Challenger tank travelling at two hundred miles an hour slammed in an upwards arc into the Cyber-Dragon's upper body, smashing apart what remained of its torso and jaw, then causing it to practically flip over backwards, sailing into the air and raising about twenty feet off the ground.
Immediately, Luke and Josh smiled, individually breaking out into cheers as the giant beast slammed back down to earth, shaking the entire area and throwing a number of cars around, huge purple flames billowing from the gaping hole in its chest. It didn't even have the energy left to roar; Instead, it weakly tried to raise its arm once again to fire at Chaz's helicopter, but failed, the arm going limp.
Its head rolled back, the light in its eyes died, and the flames continued as a dribble of molten steel began trickling from its wrecked jaw and pooling on the floor.
Luke, after a hesitation, clambered out of the window of the building he'd been hiding in, rappelling down and raising his rifle once he'd reached the bottom. Peering up the street, he could just see the figure of James running over, and Josh was handing the CPUs over to a group of soldiers at the end of the street. Above, Chaz was trying to place the Challenger down in a way that wouldn't fuck it up even more.
Then, he looked back at the mangled corpse of the Cyber-Dragon. It was still as tall as a house, even lying down.
But it was also dead.
So that was a win for the Earth boys.
The Irishman absentmindedly lit a cigarette as Josh walked over to investigate the creature. "Think we got it?" he asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets and briefly pondering how many cigarettes he'd gone through in the past few chapters.
Josh sniffed, dipping his finger in a rapidly expanding pool of motor oil that was leaking from beneath the behemoth. "Well, I dunno, Luke," he retorted, "I mean, there's a lot of things that aren't attached to it anymore, and all this oil leaking everywhere. I would assume it's dead, wouldn't you?"
Luke grimaced. "Hey, keep in mind that MAGES. told us that Jack saw it revive itself. I wouldn't be so sure." He paused, looking to the raging inferno that was the dragon's gaping chest wound. "How bad's the fire, up there?" Josh raised a brow, and looked over at the purple flames.
"I'm not going in that, Luke."
"Wasn't sayin' you needed to, but it'd be nice. Any luck, those fires melt the batteries, and this thing doesn't get up."
Josh nodded slowly.
"What about the crystal? Really did a number on the CPUs."
Luke hesitated, blowing a cloud of smoke.
"You've a point, there..."
As Josh clambered onto the corpse, Luke pored over the options in his head.
They would probably have to sweep up any fragments and hand it all into the government. A weapon that could disable the Goddesses...if that once again got obtained by terrorists, the whole world was fucked.
He dragged from his cigarette again, holding the smoke before releasing it in a sigh.
...but the potential benefits of having an anti-CPU weapon for them to use if things ever got bad for the Earth boys were pretty noticeable.
What if the CPUs ever just decided that they weren't needed, anymore, and tried to kill their team? The only one who'd probably stand the slightest chance would be Jack, and even then he'd get pretty fucked up.
He glanced at the ground.
Next to his foot was a large chunk of the broken crystal, still pulsating with a white energy. It was easily big enough to use somehow, and even though he wasn't a technical man, he would be able to find some way to weaponize it.
He narrowed his eyes.
Then, ensuring that Josh was distracted, he kneeled down, swept up the large fragment, and quietly slipped it into the large magazine-dumping bag tied to the back of his belt.
Without further hesitation, he tightened the strings at the top of the bag, then walked over to where he could see James marching towards the fallen monster.
It felt so incredibly wrong.
But it needed to be done as a contingency.
"Just in case." He murmured quietly,
Overhead, Chaz let the payload loose, dropping the Challenger as near to the ground as possible in order to focus on straightening up the chopper. The armoured vehicle hit the ground with an unholy crash, once again flattening a number of cars and bouncing slightly, prompting Luke to jump slightly due to the proximity.
One of the side skirts covering the treads dropped off with a mighty bang, and the barrel sagged. A few seconds later, the turret began gradually sliding off the frame of the tank, before eventually coming to a stop when it slid off the front of the tank.
Luke whistled through his teeth, glancing over to it.
"Well, shit, there goes the no-claims bonus."
Meanwhile, back with London...
As yet another salvo of 12 gauge shells attempted to pierce the concrete pillar, Jack narrowed his profile and continued contemplating his position.
He wasn't even in a good position to stick his neck out of cover, since the other guy in the armoured suit seemed to be the South African reincarnation of Vasily Zaytsev with that AA-12.
Where the fuck was Cave? Hopefully she was still in the vent, otherwise the armoured guy would notice her.
What good would his armaments be? Sure, he'd picked up the rocket launcher and minigun again on his way up, but they'd slow him down too much. The rockets would be too slow, too; This arsehole was twitchier than George Michael's final hours, and he could just dodge the damned things.
Just then, the gunfire stopped, and there came the sound of metal clanking on concrete.
Shit, the other guy was moving.
Jack gripped the AK tightly, listening for the direction.
Now, it'd take about ten seconds for the other guy to-
The ground beside him practically exploded as the massive form of his opponent landed next to him, AA-12 waist-high and pointed towards him.
"FUCKIN' HELL!" Jack screamed.
His normal instincts told him to go backwards.
His lust for violence made him lunge forwards.
Jack threw himself towards the massive green brute, catching a few shells to the chest as he moved for the tackle. His full weight slammed into the armoured man, eliciting a grunt from him as they both went crashing towards the ground.
Jack immediately knew he'd made a mistake.
He'd been fast enough to dodge the first time.
Why didn't his opponent dodge?
He just had to go with it.
As they both went tumbling to the floor, Jack pulled his bayonet and pointed it towards the nearly spotless visor that faced him. If he could just get the force right, he could –
Something pressed onto his stomach.
Oh, shit.
"Go to Hell, white devil!" his opponent bellowed, before kicking forward with his legs. London was immediately thrown straight up into the air with great speed, almost dropping his knife as he went flying and yelling towards the roof. With an almighty bang, Jack hit the ceiling with his back.
Something cracked quite loudly, and it didn't sound like Kevlar.
As he came tumbling back down towards the ground – easily about fifteen feet – the other guy got back onto two feet with a loud 'whoosh', a jet of flame washing from the bottom of his calves and shoulder blades.
Then, he reeled back his fist, and delivered a brutal right hook straight into London's face as he came into range, throwing him across the large empty room like a ragdoll. He cried out in pain, soaring through the air before finally coming to an agonizing halt when he smashed through a thin brick wall, crumpling into a pile on the other side.
His ears ringing, London began to pick himself up, trying to hear...where was the other guy?
Where was Cave?
He coughed as he picked himself up.
A short jet of blood spewed onto the floor.
Ah, fuck, not again.
He grimaced.
The footsteps were definitely picking up.
The ringing subsided.
He heard metal clicking.
The other guy was reloading.
This couldn't be happening.
His grimace briefly became that of fear.
And then it hardened.
This couldn't be happening.
This wouldn't be happening.
There was absolutely no fucking chance it would be happening.
He grit his teeth and sucked up the pain for the time being.
Jack glanced around to find the AK.
Crap, he couldn't see it.
RPD was too unwieldy for the tight quarters and the pistols were too weak and the shotguns were too slow.
The chainsaw'd be useless against the armour.
His mind raced.
What was the best way to kill a heavily armoured opponent?
The footsteps were getting closer, and the dust was beginning to settle from the wall explosion.
He could see clearer, now; Looked to be some kind of Foreman's office or tool storage room that he'd been thrown into.
As Jack's eyes locked onto the corner of the room, he grinned in the low light.
Medieval tactics...how could he forget at a time like this?
To kill an opponent in armour, first, you need something big, heavy, and blunt.
Jack darted over to the rack of hammers in the corner of the room.
They were locked behind a metal barrier – a barrier which he promptly ripped from its mounting.
The biggest hammer there was a whopping eighty pound sledgehammer with a rebar spike on one end, likely designed to make holes for other pieces of rebar.
So, he had some means to do damage.
But it might not be enough. He probably wouldn't be able to rapidly swing a hammer like that as a rapid combat weapon.
He had to make one hit, make it hard, and make it the killing swing.
If he could get enough force...no, momentum, then he could slam that thing through the glass visor of the bastard outside.
He heard the other guy take position near a pillar outside. The bolt was being racked on the AA-12.
He was basically blocking Jack's only exit.
He grimaced. "Don't turn this into a Home Alone movie, dickhead!" Jack called through. There was no response. "Lemme guess, you can't relate because you didn't have a home in Africa?"
"Oh, no, I had a home, white boy," the man snapped back. "I just think it would be foolish for me to enter a room I did not do reconnaissance of before you arrived."
"Very talkative, ain't you?" Jack laughed, crouching behind a steel box with his new hammer. "You're givin' me time to reshape my entire strategy, here, you fuckin' nonce." He glanced across the room; A first aid kit. Nice. Should have a health potion, he supposed. But then he would have to cross the open gap to reach it.
His wounds would have to remain open, for now.
"No matter what strategy you come up with, I am faster, stronger, and better than you!" the armoured man bellowed.
"Lemme guess, armour power's gone to your head?"
Jack just kept stalling him. The longer he was stalled, the more time Cave had to either invent a plan, or escape.
That, and it meant that the other guy was getting more riled up.
If he was angry, he would make mistakes.
"The suit is just there to bolster," the man snarled. Jack's eyes caught his reflection in a piece of broken glass; There he stood, behind a pillar, AA-12 levelled at the exit hole in the wall. "I was near these levels of power before I put on the suit; The bravest warrior of my tribe!"
"A tribe? No wonder you hate me for being white," Jack sneered. "Scared I'm gonna follow in my great granddad's footsteps and wipe your arse off the face of Africa, again?" The man visibly shifted in the reflection, clearly absolutely fuming behind the helmet.
Well, at least he now knew that racism was a remarkably effective tactic against this guy. Jack's mind began racing to find some of the most Frankie Boyle-like comments he could make.
In an attempt to avoid a small flamewar, the author checked in on Cave before London got more racist.
Meanwhile, in the vents...
Cave's hands flexed around the grip of her scissors as she skulked through the shadows. Across the room, London's voice echoed out saying something that she assumed was probably incredibly offensive. Meanwhile, the armoured enemy shifted uncomfortably.
Clearly, London was upsetting him.
But how long could he do that for?
She mentally went over the advanced calculations in her head and determined that it could probably be for an infinite time.
The cold breeze rolling through the windowless area of the building entered the tears in her clothing, chilling Cave's skin as she moved around the barely lit construction site. But any shivering, she kept on the downlow: She had one shot to damage the man in front of her, and he could probably put his fist through her head.
So, as much as possible, she kept to the shadows. The edges of her trusted scissor blades were glowing their usual pink-ish crimson, which was likely going to give her away if he looked over, but Jack seemed to be keeping him entertained enough that he probably wouldn't look over to her.
That in mind, she wasn't going to try and hang around.
Her spec ops training from the RRoD had been nearly useless for a good while; They kept sending her against full frontal enemies, so she'd never actually needed to sneak up on someone and slice their throat. That wasn't to say she hadn't done it before – in fact it was the quickest way to end most confrontations in the field – it was more down to the fact that stealth had never been mandatory.
She was slightly regretting her choice of wearing high heels all the time, doing her best to suppress the 'clack' that came with them.
As she neared her opponent, Cave began only moving when either man was yelling. She also took a good look at her opponent as she lurked less than twenty meters behind him, waiting in the shadows.
The first misconception to be cleared up was his height: He wasn't the same build as London, which she had presumed earlier, but he was instead easily about seven foot tall. Almost a head taller than London, maybe two. She wasn't sure if it had anything to do with the author making that mistake in the last chapter, but nevertheless, Cave now hated the author even more for the fact she was currently running around semi-naked.
The second was the fact that his armour was labelled "ARMORNAUT MOBILE DEFENSIVE PLATFORM".
Cave winced.
Her genre sense was tingling; The word 'platform' being used to describe a suit of armour was never a good sign.
The man in front of her was getting increasingly agitated. If she was guessing correctly – just from her memory of meeting Leanbox's PERSIAN Soldiers – a suit of armour like that would likely have some form of motion detector. Thankfully, she knew from the PERSIANs themselves that the motion detector would be useless if she moved slowly enough.
Her plan was to sneak up on him and get the hammer from his back. It was too big and had too many glowing parts to not be absolutely devastating, so she would be better off just finding out how to drop it from his back.
So long as London was calling him what she assumed were incredibly offensive things, and making him think twice about entering that hole in the wall, she had time to process what she could do.
For the briefest moment, she was completely stumped as she got within ten meters.
Could her scissors even get through that armour...?
Something tugged lightly on her ears.
Frowning, she silently reached up to investigate.
Her earrings were being pulled forwards, towards...
...Cave smirked.
She knew exactly how that thing was staying in place on his back.
He was using magnets to hold it in place.
And it had to be a very strong one if it was pulling her earrings from that distance.
She looked down at her scissors.
Maybe she did have an idea, actually.
Meanwhile, back with London...
So far, Jack had managed to slip past the gap undetected and down the entirety of a Large Healing Potion. He'd also managed to survey the area outside just enough that he could think of his plan.
There was probably enough room.
All he had to worry about were the massive holes in the walls and the glass that he'd end up flying through if he wasn't careful.
He also had to avoid hurting Cave.
And he had to hope the hammer would be enough. He probably couldn't get his knife through the visor by hand, but perhaps if he tried hammering it in?
No, impossible.
His mouth was running off racism and offensive comments faster than Mel Gibson, but he had absolutely no idea what was being said.
His plan was set. He went over it a few more times.
The other guy hadn't made a move yet; Smart. He probably knew a grenade wouldn't be enough, and a frontal assault through the only entrance would vapourize him.
That meant Jack only had one possible exit; The way he came in.
A glance over his shoulder inside the dark tool-shed revealed that there was a little bit more length on the other end of the room.
Silently, he withdrew the rocket launcher.
Maybe he could use the exit with less danger.
Sledgehammer in his left hand, rocket launcher waist-high in his right, Jack mentally steeled himself, then pulled the trigger.
The wash of flame lighting up the room was followed by the deafening boom of a wall exploding outwards, forcing the armoured man outside to shield his face but begin wildly firing the AA-12 into the wash of fire.
Jack didn't know this, of course; He was running on assumptions.
Which basically meant he assumed this plan would work.
The floor nearby nearly exploded as Jack charged forward, leaping through the hole he had made the first time and spinning. Then, he pointed the missile launcher at the floor, grit his teeth, and fired at the apex of his jump.
He let out a yell of pain as his legs flared up with shrapnel and he flew a huge distance across the room.
He couldn't stop now. No giving in to the pain.
Again, he grit his teeth, and as he began dropping down, he readjusted the launcher and fired again, sending him soaring to the right in a sudden change of direction. He was fairly certain his leg had just snapped.
His eyes pricked with tears, but those tears immediately dried up from the rushing wind and heat.
As he readied for the next shot, he began feeling pellets stinging into him as the armoured African began firing his AA-12 towards him from distance, like some kind of overly-aggressive bird hunter.
Some of them were digging through and hitting the flesh on his torso, which frustrated him quite a lot; The Kung Fu Cop seemed to make all of London's shots disappear when he was wearing the armour, but now that London was wearing it, it had about as much protective ability as his old kevlar vest did.
Nevertheless, he should have been more concerned about the shrapnel tearing his legs apart, and timing his next jump.
The floor was rapidly approaching; He adjusted once more, and fired.
This time, he was heading straight towards his foe at a very high speed, and there was a lit of ground between him and the target.
He grit his teeth and fired behind him, doubling his speed in a loud boom that once again shook the entire area. His opponent was right in front of him, he just had to –
-CAVE?!
Right in front of him, Cave stood up and delivered a rapid over-arm throw of her scissors to the back of the armoured man's head. The magnets in the back of his suit that clutched his hammer in place drew the razor-sharp blades towards him with increasing speed, covering the distance of the throw in a much shorter time than normally possible and finally slamming into the back of his helmet with a dull thunk.
The South African man yelled out in pain; It hadn't gone through. He was still moving properly.
But he was turning to face Cave, and that was what Jack needed.
His mind flashed briefly.
He span the hammer in his hand, dropping the launcher as he did so, and the massive, flat end of the sledgehammer was raised behind him as he screamed forward.
Jack's vision was completely blood-red, now, but he still knew exactly what he needed to swing for.
"HAMMERIN' IT HOME!" Jack roared, before letting out an almighty battle cry as he swept the hammer forward.
The swing, combined with his forward force, struck the side of the handle of Cave's recently-implanted scissors. Rather than breaking, the resilient weapon instead acted as a lever, spinning the armoured man's head along with the hammer impact. His rather sickening scream was instantly cut short by an almost climatic yet disturbing wet snap of a spine breaking from being twisted around, and the sudden limpness of his entire body showed to Cave that London's strike – however conveniently it had linked up with her attempt at a distraction – had, indeed, killed his opponent in one swing.
London, however, was not so graceful in his descent to the ground: As soon as the swing was over, his tattered legs caught on the ground and practically tripped him over, sending him tumbling head over heels onto the ground and smashing through yet another thin brick wall with a devastating explosion of debris and dust.
Cave stepped back slightly and shielded her face; The sudden throw of a dustcloud, coupled with the lighting that had just gotten much darker as London presumably smashed into a circuit breaker and shut down the area's power, made it nearly impossible to see where he'd actually landed, but nevertheless, Cave started stumbling forward on a pair of broken stiletto shoes over piles of shattered masonry to find him.
Her vision was clouded by dust, and the fact she could barely hold balance without slipping on spent shotgun shells or pieces of brick or shrapnel just made it more imperative that she found London as fast as possible; If she wasted any time, there were incredibly good odds that he would bleed out and die, in consideration of the injuries he just sustained.
Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her forearms to wave away the dust. She couldn't see far enough.
He had to be somewhere...
As she lowered her foot again, she suddenly heard a loud cry of pain, and she recoiled her leg immediately, looking down for the source.
She didn't have to go too far, at least: There, lying half-buried in rubble with his trouser legs and lower body completely riddled with shards of steel and saturated in blood, was Mr. London. He seemed to be fully conscious, which was probably not a good thing, considering that his legs...
...well, they weren't in good shape.
Cave dropped to her knees beside him, and without touching him, assessed the damage. "Mr. Loondumb, that was completely outlandish," she said scoldingly, gazing down at his legs. "You could have torn yourself in half!"
London just chuckled briefly. "Well...long as Captain Kid Killer over there's not alive anymore, I'm thinkin' I did a good job..." he grunted, attempting to shift himself up.
Immediately, Cave placed her hands on his shoulders to halt him. "Mr. Loondumb, stay still," she ordered. "Your legs are almost completely shattered; I have no idea how much damage you'll do by moving around. Please, just lie still." She stared her larger companion in the eyes, before he finally sighed and nodded slowly, gently lowering himself back down onto his bed of rubble.
The dust was clearing, now, so Cave could make out their surroundings more easily. In the room that London had smashed through, it appeared to be – through some form of absolute convenience – what she assumed to be this floor's infirmary or medical area. Presumably there would be a very good supply of health kits in there.
She looked down at London, again, smiling slightly. She knew that she could comfort him more effectively that way, and he needed all of it that he could get. "There's a lot of medical supplies in here. A few Life Fragments and potions should be a good temporary solution until we can get you to a hospital." Briefly, she was tempted to run her hand over his head, just like her mother used to do to her when she was sick, but refrained.
As she got up to find potions, she heard London chuckling again. At least he was taking it well.
"Looked a bit constipated a second ago, Cave," he said in a strained voice. "Can't tell if you were tryin' to comfort me or if you were gonna tell me you spiked my drink." This time, Cave smiled, too, as her hands rummaged through the dark room's shelves in order to find the more powerful health potions.
"Well, I suppose I am not exactly suited to acting as a medic," she replied. Her hand graced a potion of Supreme Healing: That'd do. "I'm not particularly good with people, either, which is what I assume to be the reason I always end up with solo assignments from the RRoD."
"You know me, Cave, I fly solo, too," Jack grimaced. Fuck, he couldn't feel his right leg. "But I'd say we would've had no chance if you didn't throw those scissors at that jackoff when you did. I don't think my swing would've killed him in one go, and he would probably have dodged it, too, so I would end up here – dead – and then he'd turn his attention to you - dead." There was a silence between the two, as Cave began fast-walking back over to him with her arms full of potions.
When she set them down and attempted to get London into a position where she could feed him the potions, Cave's mind flashed over her very brief medical training.
Step 5: Keep the patient talking.
"Mr. Loondumb, I need you to keep talking to me." Jack just nodded weakly.
"Yeah, dunno if that's a good idea," he groaned. "I'm losin' a lot of blood and I think I'm hallucinatin'. Take too long, and I'll probably start thinkin' you're an angel, or summat."
"All the more reason to get this done faster," Cave retorted. Her mind flashed to questions she could ask to keep him talking, as she slid her legs beneath his head for support. "Are you going anywhere nice, this weekend?"
Jack just smirked, looking straight up at her. His head was resting on Cave's lap, a technique that the special-forces agent had been taught to keep a patient's neck suspended on an uneven surface.
"Well, I dunno," he began, as Cave reached over to uncork one of the healing potions. "Think I might go to a tailor. Gone through a Hell of a lot of decent bits of clothing these past few hours." He paused, almost tempted to reach an arm up to shield himself from the lightbulb glare that flashed his eyes as Cave moved above him. "Christ, everything's so goddamn bright..."
"You not included, I take it?" Cave asked sarcastically. Jack laughed briefly, then winced again.
"You're a funny lady, Miss Cave," he muttered. "Hell, I think I'm startin' to like you more."
Cave narrowed her eyes slightly, spitting the cork of the bottle off to her right and tilting her body to the right so that she could move Jack's head. "You're hilarious," she deadpanned. "Now, open wide." One-handedly, she placed a hand on his forehead, tilting his head back, and Jack let his jaw hang open. His eyes were now staring directly up into Cave's determined face as she moved the potion towards his mouth.
Then, the usual taste of strawberry began splashing into his mouth and down his throat, then barely a half second later, his entire lower body was in absolute agony. Immediately, his eyes widened, and he gagged loudly, suddenly twitching violently in response to the pain. Cave winced slightly, but continued pouring the potion into his maw, shifting herself to slide her leg onto the top of his torso in order to try and pin him in place to limit the spasms.
"Mr. Loondumb, please, try to stay still!" she cried. London just continued screaming, barely managing to swallow the potion, and Cave could see why; Both of his legs were trying to twist themselves back from incredibly unnatural angles, each movement being accompanied by a loud, sickening crack as they jolted and turned violently. London's hands began digging into a pair of bricks; Seconds later, he'd crushed them between his ever-tightening grip.
The bottle was barely half empty at this point, so she'd have to try and keep him still for that long. At the base of London's legs, there came a constant rattle of metal shards of shrapnel and bullets being forced out of his body, hitting the floor with a metallic clink one by one.
Even with her powerful leg muscles, she couldn't hold him completely still: He was thrashing too hard. Gritting her teeth, and not letting up with her medicinal assault, she span slightly to remove her left leg from beneath his head, then straddled his chest, using her free hand to hold his mouth open.
Jack, whilst normally the type to panic over a woman on top of him, instead continued struggling to swallow the red substance, his eyes pouring with tears at this point as his knee rotated 90° in an instant with an appalling snap. His hands shot up and grabbed Cave's thighs, and she visibly gasped in pain at his grip.
Nevertheless, they both continued this agonizing dance for a few more seconds. A few more moments of agony, and it would all be over.
"Almost done! P-Please stop...crushing my thighs..." Cave could barely feel her legs as the bottle's final remnants trickled from the bottle, finally giving her the opportunity to throw the empty piece of glass across the room. London gasped for air as Cave rolled off his torso, dropping onto her back next to him and breathing heavily. "T-There..." she panted, wiping her brow with her forearm and then letting it flop back down onto the ground.
Jack was still in pain. The potion had worked, yes: What were once entirely smashed leg bones had managed to piece themselves back together and correct their positioning in a matter of seconds.
However, it didn't mean he wasn't in total agony.
It was then that he weakly reached an arm up, and tried to grab his chest to slow his heart rate.
What was it that Blazkowicz had told him?
C-C-C-Count to f-f-f-our...in...in...in...inhale...f-f-fuck...I-I-I-I can't i-inhale...
His eyes were still streaming tears.
He had died. He'd been shot thousands of times. He'd been defibrillated. He'd almost broken a friendship with the one woman who actually, genuinely could comprehend any of his trains of thought.
But this...this was what hurt the most.
Hjs mind was still reeling from the sheer, Hellish agony that he had just endured.
He could barely see anything through the painful blur, and every single sound was muffled and mixed with a steady ringing.
Was Cave saying something to him?
She'd just saved his life.
Guess they were even, now.
It took a few minutes for him to regain his full situational awareness. During this time, Cave had gotten up and retrieved the weapons London had dropped during the fight, dragging the large guns over to him using a piece of tarpaulin as a drag-mat. She was just in the process of trying to tear up some bandages from the medkit to wrap over herself and cover her nude spots that had appeared from the torn clothing, when Jack stirred behind her.
Immediatelt, she turned, and darted over to his side. "Mr. Loondumb!" she said quickly, grabbing his shoulder and beginning to pull him to a sitting-up position. "Can you hear me? Do your legs work?" Jack, through bleary eyes, glanced down at his bloody crimson jeans. He gave his knees a test flex.
They worked just fine. Bit stiff, though.
He sighed, and rubbed his head. "Y-Yeah...yeah, they...they work..." he mumbled, before shaking his head and looking at Cave. She was now at his head height; If she was kneeling, and he was sat on the floor, they were equal heights. Useful info.
Cave let out a sigh, and rubbed her eyes slightly. "Good Goddess, Mr. Loondumb, don't scare me like that..." Her eyes ended up falling on her thighs; Five red dots on each one signified just how hard London had grabbed them out of desperation. She grimaced, and looked back at him; It seems he had noticed what he had done, and was looking away sheepishly.
"S-Sorry..." he whimpered. Cave narrowed her eyes, then sighed again, standing up.
"If you wished to grab my inner thigh, you could have at least taken me to dinner, first," she said finally, before offering a gloved hand and gesturing for him to get up. The usually brave man was now a glowing crimson. "So now you owe me a massage, and dinner." As he pulled himself up, Jack's mind once again raced.
Is she hitting on me?! NOW?! I nearly just fucking died!
"Uh...sure, if...if that's what you want," he finally replied, dusting himself off. He was about to turn and collect his weapons.
"Ahem."
He paused, then looked back at Cave. The woman was standing there, arms folded.
For some reason, it was only now that he realized how utterly fucked up she'd gotten.
One of her twintails was gone.
Her clothes were torn, and he could see her lacy black undergarments.
Her face was bloodied, but the healing potion from earlier seemed to have gotten rid of the actual cuts and bruising.
She had burn marks on her hair.
And yet, despite the fact she was just on the edge of having a complete wardrobe malfunction, her eyes still showed the same burning hot confidence and icy calmness that he'd known her to have since the day he'd met her.
He swallowed, and turned to face her again. "Is...Is somethin' wrong?" he asked. Cave stuck out her lower lip, and gestured sarcastically with one hand.
"Oh, I don't know," she began, her voice clearly betraying the sarcasm, "Perhaps a 'thank you' would be nice? Or at least some acknowledgement that I just saved your life?" Jack nodded slowly.
"I...I didn't think you cared..." he replied cautiously.
Cave looked flabbergasted. She moved towards him immediately. "I'm sorry, but what?! I rarely raise my voice, and that is just part of who I am," she snapped, jabbing a finger at his chest, "But I'm not a machine, Mr. Loondumb! I am human! Contrary to what your friends believe, with me refusing to socialize with them, I am a human, I have my likes, dislikes, secrets, and emotions!"
Jack raised his hands defensively. "I never said you were a machine, Cave –"
"Then TREAT me like you know!" she screamed.
Jack blinked.
Holy shit, Cave was crying.
Oh shit, he'd be crying soon if he didn't stop her.
"Just say 'thank you'! Or hold a door open! Or ask how my day's been! Or just talk to me!" she cried, grabbing his lapels. "The reason I got upset at you earlier is because you just didn't care about me! You acted as though I were some kind of obstacle in your path! It's gotten worse as our time together has gone onwards! Remember the nightclub?"
Jack nodded, swallowing and nodding guiltily.
He was gonna tell her that this wasn't the place or time, but...
...well...she seemed to be upset. Very upset.
"Oh, you do?" she spat, hands on her hips. "Remember how when I was nearly killed, you left me at a hospital and didn't even visit? Not even a single check-up to see how I was – you didn't even call!" The woman wiped her eyes briefly, then raised a hand.
Then stopped.
She seemed to be on the verge of making a point.
If Jack was following correctly, and remembered his Fallout 4 companion interactions correctly...
...shit, she was about to leave him!
As Cave opened her mouth to speak, Jack realized this was the last second he had to make a play and stay friends with Cave.
However, his mind pored over every option he could think of, but tonight, he could only come up with one, and it was a very, very risky move.
But he had no other choice.
Cave's eyes were soaked at this point.
"Mr. Loondumb, I'm thirty-two years old," she began, lowering her hand.
Jack held off on the big play...for the moment.
"In all of those years, I've always had to be on my own for most of the time. There has never been anyone who could keep up with me. Did you know that I am the only field operative of the RRoD?"
Jack nodded silently.
Cave sighed, sitting herself down with a thud onto a block of concrete. "Thirty-two...most of the women I went to school with are already settled down and married. And what am I doing? Fighting terrorists and barely speaking to anyone. I don't even have any friends...nobody who actually wants to stay in my vicinity...I-I work too hard..." The woman's jaw trembled, as she stared ahead into the darkness of the building site around her. "Oh, Goddess, what did I do with my life?!" Her head immediately fell into her hands, and she no longer even held back the crying, body jolting every so often as she tried to take a breath.
Jack knew that this was probably the best chance he had to make amends.
Carefully, he sat down on the block to her right, and reached his arms over to grab her bicep.
He'd expected to do more, since he'd only ever seen hugs in movies, but Cave didn't wait for the emotional soundtrack to start playing and immediately span to bury her head in his chest, wrapping her arms around his ribs and muffling her sobs with his shoulder.
He was taken by surprise with this: Cautiously, he placed his own arms around her back, and began gently stroking her hair.
God, she smelled like cherries.
And she was so warm...
"Cave, you're better than any partner I'd've ever ended up with in my life as a soldier," Jack whispered, continuing to caress her hair. "You're smart, genuine, and you don't do backtalk. That, and you're incredibly loyal...Hell, you followed me into this hellhole because it was in your job description, and you've already saved my life." The woman's sobs had quietened down at this point. "If you were as bad as you say you are, then I would've said summat. Besides, if we get out of this, we're gonna be housemates, and there's no way in Hell I would share a house with some borin' machine."
Cave continued sobbing, shifting herself so that her forehead was planted on his collar.
"Hey." Jack then remembered the next movie cliché; He placed a hand under her chin and looked her in the eyes. "Ignore what everyone else is doin' at your age. People my age were out drinkin' and partyin' whilst I stayed at home. What they do doesn't make a damn day's difference to you: You're doin' amazin', Cave, so you do you. Heck, if being married is such a big thing for you, I'll marry you! I think puttin' up with me for more than a few days'll sort out your 'overworked' problem proper fast!"
The redhead in his embraced couldn't help but conceal a laugh. Jack smiled.
"See? That's what I wanna look at, and that's the Cave I know. Cheer up, lass. You're one of the greatest women I know."
Cave swallowed, blinked away a few tears, then wiped her eyes again, sighing. "Oh...thank you, Mr. Loondumb..." The woman paused, then buried her head in his chest once again. "Thank you, so much..." she whispered. There was another pause. "Oh, Goddess, don't tell anyone this happened, OK?"
Jack smiled, and petted the back of her head. "You're alright," he said as calmingly as possible, "You didn't even get to see my meltdown I had in front of Miss Hakozaki. That was just...well, humiliatin'." Cave emitted a chuckling noise.
"I...shall ask for a transcript," she said finally, pulling away from the hug. "I've...I've never done that before," she continued. "Thank you...I mean it."
Jack waved a dismissive hand, pretending he wasn't a shade of burgundy as he processed how successful that he had just been in keeping on Cave's good side. "It's nothin', really," he replied casually. "Besides, I've never done that, either. At least now we've both hugged someone." He paused. "Hell, it felt kinda weird, doin' that when we've a terrorist to kill."
Cave nodded, wiping her eyes. "I know...I couldn't possibly be more thankful that my first hug was with someone as genuine as you, Mr. Loondumb. Who knows what would have happened if I had that breakdown in front of – say – Lady Hakozaki?" Jack shrugged in response.
"Well...then she could laud a stress-induced breakdown over both of our heads, I s'ppose?"
"Indeed, she could. But then we can laud 'terrorist destroyers' over her head in response."
"A fair point. But we ain't gettin' that title if we don't go and beat the shit out of that Commie fuck upstairs."
Cave rubbed the back of her head. "...I...I suppose we should."
"I mean...you can kill him, if you want," Jack said finally. "He's done nothin' to me personally, but I feel like I'd get a pretty good kick out of poppin' his eyes out with my thumbs." His eyes wandered Cave's tattered dress. "Meanwhile, I'd imagine you have a bone to pick with him, and you're gonna break whichever bone you do pick."
Cave's eyes hardened. "More like the whole skeleton," she said flatly. "I barely avoided sexual abuse."
The two looked at each other, the only other sound being rushing winds outside. The stomping had halted, but they supposed that the dragon was just standing still.
Jack cleared his throat.
"I mean, in consideration of how much damage this African did to me..." he began, "...what do we do if one of us dies?" Cave frowned, and thought for a moment.
Then, her eyes raised again, hardened and narrowed.
"The survivor just has to fight even harder."
Jack smiled.
"Back in the swing of things, Cave."
As the two stood up and Jack gathered his weapons, Cave dislodged her scissors from the back of the South African's helmet with an almighty thunk. She looked down at him, and squinted. "Mr. Loondumb," she began, "I would imagine you might be able to salvage this suit of armour with some work." Jack raised a brow, as he pulled the charging handle on the newly-acquired AA-12.
Then, he looked at the dead body...and tilted his head.
"Maybe," he replied, wandering over and giving the limp body a solid kick. "I'll certainly be back for it. If there's no surgeries to put it on, then I could do with a proper baller suit of power armour."
Cave nodded calmly, and began walking towards the stairs upwards.
"Do we have a strategy?" she called over, with London taking a moment to jog after her. "He has hostages."
Jack stroked his stubble, and thought for a moment. "Well...if I had to guess, he must have heard about that African's death over his radio. He'll probably be ordering a Counter Strike right about now. Hostages just make it harder."
"I can only imagine he would have kept most of his thugs standing around nearby," Cave suggested, "There were quite a few men in there whilst I was there." Jack considered this as the pair started up a concrete access staircase that was lit by construction lamps.
"How many're we talkin'?" Jack asked. Cave shot him a deadpan look as she followed behind him.
"I didn't count; They were too busy abusing me to identify themselves."
"Right...uh, sorry."
"And, Mr. Loondumb, once this is all over, I am expecting a spa-grade massage, which was part of our original deal."
Jack grimaced slightly, going red. "Yeah...not the best timin' for that, Cave..."
"Isn't it?" she retorted. "Let's not forget that we have nearly reached the top of this tower, and we have both nearly been killed on every floor. We must have each conversation as if it is our last, Mr. Loondumb." Jack sighed, and peered up the central gap between the stairs above.
"I'm not admittin' anythin' more personal than what I already have done, Cave," he said firmly, "And this just seems like an elaborate scheme of yours, or summat. What're you tryin' to make me say?"
"I'm not entirely sure, but with any luck, I can get something from you to use as leverage later on."
"Leverag? What 'leverage'? What're you gonna try leveragin' me for?"
"I don't know. Perhaps it is the will of the author?" Cave suggested.
"Who the fuck is the author?" Jack snapped. "I keep hearin' about this twat, and I don't know who he is! Tell him to piss off!"
Cave was tempted to make another comment in order to bulldoze away what remained of the fourth wall, but decided against it, instead opting to follow along behind London as the two ascended the staircases.
Jack felt as if the armoured man was probably going to be the toughest thing he killed all day.
Of course, that entirely hinged on whether Kashuba was ready for the two of them.
If he was, then he would probably be trying to set hostages up to die as soon as London tried anything.
Jack narrowed his eyes.
Then, he remembered what Cave had told him a few weeks before.
"Hey, Miss Cave," he began, turning around and stopping on a stair landing. "You said you're good with dodgin' bullets, didn't you?" The woman halted, and blinked.
"Well...I don't remember telling you that, but certainly, it is one area of expertise," she nodded. Then, her expression shifted to that of suspicion. "Wait...why do you ask?"
Jack tilted his head. "You good against stationary emplacements?"
"...I'd...consider them a speciality...?"
Jack grinned.
"Considerin' you mentioned the guy who grabbed Miss Nepgear had a turret, I've a feelin' that Commie Kashy up there is tellin' Mr. Chonker upstairs to set up for a siege."
Cave mulled over the name briefly. "Mr. 'Chonker'?"
"Eummat like that. Hell of a lot of Russians with the guys I came here with. Far as I remember, we had a guy who specialized in area-denial usin' a machine gun turret. That's where you come in." Cave groaned, and rubbed her forehead. "What?"
"Mr. Loondumb, for someone who genuinely cares about my well-being, you do have a strange tendency to send me against suicidal difficulties."
Jack shrugged. "Well, whilst you're dealin' with him – an old bloke with an even older machine gun – I get to fight an angry Russian who's also surrounded by very flimsy hostages," he replied calmly, checking his Desert Eagle again. "Your call on what you want to do."
There was a brief pause.
"...and you say this man is on a turret?"
"Yeah. Three-sixty degree field of vision. It's an old Russian machine gun with a rotary magazine on top. Considerin' you're good with those scissors, you could probably go for the tripod and break the damn thing."
"And he isn't as youthful and dangerous as his counterparts?"
Jack tilted his head side to side, his face contorting as he sucked air through his teeth. "Weeeeeell...I wouldn't really throw any assumptions in about the 'dangerous' bit," he sighed. "All of these guys are some of my world's most dangerous men: Despite Mr. Chonker bein' old, wouldn't surprise me if that bastard was ex-Spetsnaz or summat stupid."
Cave nodded slowly, stroking her chin with a tattered white glove.
"That being said, I would make the assumption that he should die similarly to the rest of these men?"
Jack nodded. "Should worst come to worst? Aye. Make it fast, though. Got a lot of respect for the older guys from the trainin'. Hate for 'em to suffer too hard."
Cave nodded. "I will do my best," she replied, taking point as they continued up the stairs. "Oh, and Mr. Loondumb?"
Jack felt a pang of worry.
"Yeah?"
"At the rate this mission is going, in regards to me saving you and you saving me quite frequently, we will likely end up never truly able to repay our debts to one another through simple favours. At some point, we will each need to do a large favour for the other person."
Jack swallowed hard.
Oh, shit, she was really getting into this whole 'same apartment' thing.