Uh, yeah, been a while life's been kinda rough recently, my mom got a debilitating injury this summer, which resulted in constant, intense pain all Summer. She's mostly better now, but I spent all Summer taking care of her and helping her get around, and hearing your mother scream in pain on a daily basis can kill motivation a bit, so, now you know where I'm coming from. Looking on the bright side, she's almost completely recovered, just in time for me to get get my ass kicked by college...so yeah.
I've had all of this chapter done for a while now, I just haven't proofread it, but I think I just need to get something out to y'all. Just a little somethin somethin I threw together a while ago. I'm going to start trying to write more often now, but that's on top of two lab papers I'm going to be starting soon, on top of the usual workload, so if I ain't writing this, at least you know I'm writing something.
Enough of my griping though, hope you enjoy, and review... and all that cool stuff.
I did not sleep soundly that night.
I awoke in the middle of the night, the urge to scream alive in my throat and my heart beating viciously against my chest. The sudden distress and strain my heart put on my body brought a wave of pain through my stomach. In my still half-asleep stupor, I wasted no time assuming fetal position, and placing a hand over my stomach.
I howled in pain again, feeling the only-recently-sealed injury inflicted on me by my Noctowl rip itself open, and finally I reached my threshold for pain. I screamed without restraint, howling and rolling off of the cot, landing hard on my injured arm. I thrashed and flailed, kicking and striking at the dark, in my frenzy. A sudden movement caught my attention, and I felt a hand clasp itself over my mouth, along with a sudden and frantic 'shushing'.
Such an act in my frantic state though, only led me to flail and cry out even more. Whatever had clamped onto my mouth tried to quiet me for a moment longer, then I fell silent as something hard struck me upon the temple, leaving me stunned.
Then there was a crash, like a door being slammed open, and the thing beside me was gone, embroiled in some sort of violent struggle. I immediately curled into a ball and rolled myself into a corner-my agony forgotten- trying to go unnoticed in the darkness. The sounds grew more frantic, more rapid- angry flapping, like a small flock of provoked spearow could be heard, interrupted by the loud thumps of something being struck with great force. There was a brief pause, with what sounded like a drawer being opened, and then the struggle resumed.
The sounds concluded suddenly, two heavy objects hit the floor, from where I heard a rasping, like that of a dying animal. One final 'thump' sounded, followed by a crunching and it was silent. I didn't dare move a muscle, so far unnoticed by the two-now one- person party. I listened as the door was shut as quietly as possible, and then as something heavy was dragged along the floor.
I did not move, I did not breathe. I waited. And waited. And waited. An-
It was Scar that woke me the next morning, covered in blood. He explained in his broken common that there was an accident, and an area that had previously been thought to be safe outside of the camp had been infested with bug Pokemon. None of it was his, but he had to amputate a soldier's arm, for some reason he either could not or would not explain.
He helped me from the floor, and walked me through a short series of stretches and exercises, which I completed with great ease. Scar commented I would be able to soon be able to join the tents, but would still be safe from the labor. He instructed me to wait on my cot, the commander would arrive shortly to interrogate me.
The commander was a completely unassuming man, not the sort that you would expect to be leading the only known military force in the region in times of great strife. Not the sort that you would trust with your life. And- if the way that most of the soldiers looked at him in disgust when he wasn't looking- not the sort of man you enjoy taking orders from.
Much like the commander himself, his 'interrogation' was nothing spectacular. He came, he asked questions about where I had been and the condition of those places when I was there. Attempts to bait him into revealing useful information-though subtle- were fruitless. When I was upfront and simply asked him about the state of the world he refused to answer. He simply sat, and listened.
When I began to speak of the deserter he interrupted me, adamant- almost frustrated for some reason "There are no deserters in the Johto Defense force. You were shot by a typical bandit." It was an obvious lie, and the commander was not convincing, but he didn't need to be-it was a warning. I finished my story, and he promptly left, leaving me alone with only my thoughts and a ringing in my ears I had not noticed during the interrogation.
It was several hours more before I received another visitor, and I spent the time testing my range of motion; slowly rolling my shoulder and doing short crunches to find my limits. Surprisingly the pain in my abdomen had almost entirely faded, and though there was a very clear point in my shoulder movements that I was on the threshold of great pain, it did not impede on my ability to move at all, and I found a sleeping position that would prevent last night's incident in the future.
After this, I exercised. My time in bed had left me sluggish, and now with a clear idea of my limits, it was time to tell my body to get back in gear. Pushups, jogging in place, stretches, juggling, anything that would put me back at the top of my game. I worked without much thought, but I knew why I began obsessing about my fitness.
I had died. Jenny and Lawrence were missing and I had died. If I was faster, stronger, more observant, things would most likely have not changed. I had operated at the capacity of my wit, fended off attackers much stronger than myself. I could not outrun a bullet, but next time I'd have a better chance.
I nearly choked on bitterness, at the thought of this. What rotten luck had led me here. We happened to accidently stumble upon a nest of aggressive pinsir, one of our numbers landed in such a way as to fall unconscious, and our vehicle had just managed to break down. Then our wounded friend's heart stopped, demanding my attention. At the very moment I was distracted, when I was expecting Lawrence to return, a deserter had wandered from this base, at such a time that lead him to run into us, whom he decided to rob. At the exact moment things were most tense, Lawrence shocked the deserter, and we were both shot for it.
It was a joke, almost. A sick, elaborate joke. But where at the end of a joke there might just be a punchline- or a bunch of friends jumping out from dark corners, throwing confetti with reckless abandon while laughing- there was just me, on the verge of crippledom.
That was the way of this world, I supposed. Sometimes Lady Luck was a bitch.
My musings and workout were interrupted by Scar, guiding Rui by the hand into the room. Scar had since (thankfully) changed clothes, and the reek of iron that followed him had faded. Rui wore the same clothes as the day before, unsurprisingly. Scar guided Rui into the center of the room, and then fetched her a chair, before retreating to a wall to lean against. I was unsure how to react, I merely went to sit at the edge of my cot in silence, waiting for Scar to speak.
Surprisingly, Rui was the one to break the silence "So Crescent, what did you think of the Commander?"
I turned my attention to Rui, considering my answer "He wasn't what I was expecting. Scar, why are you here?"
Scar didn't move, but I clearly heard his response through his scarf "It's easier to kid garden you this way."
'Kid Garden?'
Rui was quick to correct Scar "Babysit Scar, not Kindergarten."
"There's a difference?"
"Kindergarten is...it's like school, to teach kids how to make friends. Babysitting is just watching kids and taking care of them…it's a much smaller group that typically knows one another. Think like a pidgey sitting on the egg."
Scar mumbled something unintelligible -probably in his native language- to which Rui nodded and gave a thumbs up before turning her attention back to me "Underwhelming, inept, and as charming as a sack of bricks: no, a sack of bricks is way more charming than that-"
Scar cut her off in his own language, his tone scolding. Rui only laughs "There's no one else is here, who's going to tell him? You?"
Scar begins to respond, but this time I cut in "Common Scar, please, I have no idea what's going on."
Scar doesn't make any move to acknowledge me, but his next words are in Common "Could be Rui, besides, he lets us here when he could have sent us away, we owe him respect for that much."
I cut in again, not wanting to be excluded from the conversation "There is one thing though. He seemed angry, frustrated for some reason when he was here. I complied, did exactly as he said, but he still grew angry. Has something happened?"
Rui turned her milky eyes to Scar, forfeiting her chance to respond. A moment of silence ensued, while Scar thought "He has made a habit of using certain painkillers without need. Could be stressed to be so close to where we stored them."
Rui interjected "No one really understands the commander though. I heard the other day that he yelled at one of his body guards for something he didn't say. Just started yelling out of the blue, it's kinda creepy. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to."
"You hear a lot of things Rui, don't be so quick to believe them. The commander is stressed, I imagine. He never expected this kind of responsibility, let alone in times like this."
Rui fumed, and then changed the subject to anything and everything. I had more luck participating in the conversation here. But they talked around me, more often than not, like how a stream goes around a rock. Though they came to me, not for one minute did I have any doubts that I was the invader.
Scar took me and Rui around the camp again, walking us through the sea of tents, at the edge of where the soldier quarters were, and then to one point near the outer fence before a soldier saw us and shooed us back to the center of the base. Scar then returned me to the infirmary, and feeling as though I had made great strides in my recovery, I decided to take a nap.
When I awoke, I was not alone. Sitting in the corner of the room was a man preoccupied by the rolled paper stub in his mouth, which smoked profusely, and smelled nothing like tobacco. I was a little on edge, as I thought that Scar typically had clinic duty, and I didn't recognize this stranger. I sat looking at him in an uncomfortable silence, as he sat content with the stub in his mouth, seemingly oblivious to my quiet gaze.
Impatience and curiosity got the better of me, prompting me to give a loud mock yawn, to which he gave a brief glance in my direction, before turning his attention back to smoking.
"Who are you?"
The man leaned forward in his chair, taking the stub from his mouth and dropping it on the floor "Forget me already? Well, your mental acuity wasn't all that at the time, I suppose no one could blame you after going through being under for that long."
His average, nondescript face finally registered for me; it was none other than the doctor that put me under the knife. But…
"I thought that you were one field duty. Shouldn't Scar be on clinic watch?"
The doctor appeared to be confused, then agitated "You mean that idiot westerner? The fool went off and pissed off the commander, and he got thrown in the pit for three days."
"The pit?"
"Exactly what it sounds like; a little hole in the ground over by the armory with a wooden lid. It's about as harshly punished as you can get without being shot. They toss a bottle of water and lock you up in there until they feel you've learned your lesson."
Barbaric, but wouldn't it just be easier to kick them out of the camp?
"What did Scar do that was so bad as to merit THAT?"
The doctor shrugged nonchalantly, pulling something I could not make from his pocket before responding "The commander doesn't need much reason to go off on the fool. The boss man is a racist, a nationalist, an isolationist, and every other kind of ist under the sun. Still bitter about the last war I suppose, never mind that Kanto was the aggressor, or we're lucky they didn't salt our soil and burn us all at the stake after what we pulled, or that he and all his ilk got educated in Unova-the brats.
There was a lot in that statement that I did not understand, and rather than look like an ignoramus I chose to simply nod at his assertion, responding "But once he's out, he goes right back to clinic duty?"
"If he survives, yeah, and he doesn't do anything stupid and get shot. But the oaf is tough and knows when to keep his head down, at least." The doctor looked at me for a long moment, something approaching concern etched into his features "The commander has been in a foul mood since interrogating you. Honestly you should be out in the tents right now, but I don't trust the boss man not to pull anything on you, and I took an oath to "do no harm". Until this all clears up, you're staying here, under my protection. That little cutie-pie is free to visit, but no more walking around the fence in broad daylight. And if we get any medical emergencies in here, stay out of my way."
I was a little surprised by the nihilistic man's offer of protection, but I graciously accepted it nonetheless. Seemingly satisfied he began rolling the contents in his hand: another smoke. No longer paying attention to me, he lit it and took a deep drag from it, looking through the walls confining the clinic at something far in the distance- a sort longing in his eyes.
