Author's note: I decided to split the ending in two parts, just so this chapter doesn't end up being 20,000 words long. That, and I got a bit too invested in writing this. And I definitely don't want it to be rushed either.
So since it's been exactly one month since I've updated, take this 9,445 word monstrosity to make up my absence. It starts out a little slow, but oh lordie things start happening. Heads up, this is where the "Graphic Depictions of Violence" warning comes in. Trust me, it gets a bit dark - so be aware. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!
I put alot of effort into this one, hence why it took so long.
None of them could catch a wink of sleep after the communist encounter the night prior. But despite the bags weighing under their eyes and their jumpy tendancies at any abrupt 'BANG' from the ceiling - they were all fine.
Only now, the shuttle was being bathed beneathe pounds upon pounds of sand. If any of the Astrocitizens had claustrophobia previously, they sure were having it now.
And ASTRO's constant warnings of damage to the ship's oxygen generator definitely wasn't helping.
The system also stated that the sand storm wouldn't let up for another week or two. Even so, Dawkins refused to risk sending anyone out. Especially since she found out there was a communist clan out for their skin.
The relentless battering of grain was becoming hard enough to bear, but the muteness of their voices was somehow even worse. It was disbelief of how lucky they were, if anything.
As much as they were grateful for their new abundance of supplies, they were grateful for each other much more. Deedee could only imagine what 20 days in space would be like all alone.
She stirred at the clumps of tomato floating in her can, curiously sneaking peeks at each of her mind-boggled crewmembers.
It was surprisingly quiet, even after Tom returned from his expedition. Which was... a bit strange.
She caught a glimpse of blood dribble from Baby's bruised nose, but he quickly wiped it away with his sleeve. Leaving a long, crimson trail stained into the green fabric.
"Are you sure you're ok with that injury, Bronco?" She asked suspiciously, still unused to calling him by his first name, "We have a brand new medkit ready if you need it. And we have plenty of resources to craft an extra for later."
Re-checking the module later, however, she would grit her teeth anxiously, realizing that '06' chemicals wasn't exactly the definition of "plenty."
"No, it's nothin'." Baby sniffed tenatively, scooping up another blob of his breakfast, "It's not worth wastin' a medkit over, anyways..."
The sandy rains continued to noisily pummel the membrane of their ship. The human's soleumn mood refused to change, even as Tom bursted home from the other end of the bunker.
He seemed slightly glum, perhaps a side effect from venturing alone for three straight days. Crunching off the lid of his soup can, he sat to face the others.
Even he had nothing to say, however that was possible.
Earlier that morning, Deedee was generous enough to share some details from the crew's previous conversations with him. She expected to immediately regret it, revealing them before instantly being bombarded with mocking jokes of everything she said.
But instead, the man merely clicked his tongue and nodded in understanding. And when she questioned his flawless luck during his last expedition, he only winked and stated: "Military training."
Meanwhile, back in the present, the exhausting silence dragged on further.
"Huh." Thomson suddenly spoke out of the blue, "...I can't believe I've been stuck with a former criminal, waitress, and science teacher this whole time and I didn't even know it."
The statement seemed like an excuse to fill in the silence. Regardless, the group's weary attention snapped to him instantly, some (ironically) eager for a change in mood.
"Hey, I'm not complaining." He corrected himself, mistaking the stares as signs of irritation, "As long as big guy over there doesn't try to kill me in my sleep, I won't judge." Baby almost had enough nerve to roll his eyes.
After eying him nonchalantly, Tom continued, "I wasn't the exactly the 'life of the party' back on Earth either. But it's too bad you couldn't wait until I got back to talk about it..." There was a hint of sadness in his tone.
"That's because everything that comes out of your mouth is a joke." Deedee spat on impulse, once more recalling all of the lies he'd told them during their journey.
He was about to object, as she expected, but stopped before the childish insults could roll off of his tongue. "The truth is, you wouldn't believe me even if I was telling the truth." He accused with a scowl.
"Besides, how do we know you're not hiding something from us? How do any of us know we're not lying to each other? To ourselves?"
For a second, Deedee thought he knew that she was guilty of hiding her own secret. There were only a few instances when she caught one of her crew's stares when she tripped or shook from a pain jolting through her leg.
Tom sighed, rubbing his face, as if ashamed that even hewas succumbing to hopelessness. Even after all of his restless scavenging.
"You're... you're right." The blonde confessed, with slight sympathy at his sudden honesty, "No more lies, no more secrets, no more hiding things from everyone." Thomson folded his arms over his chest with a nod, "Do you have any secrets you'd like to share with us then, 'Captain'?"
The captain shifted in her seat, the tomato sauce in her mouth suddenly turning sour. She was about to smugly snipe him the same question, just to see how he'd react.
But instead, she froze, remembering what Baby had said the previous night, admitted a side of him darker and worse than any of them could imagine, let alone, assume.
Scrunching up her nose, she decided to break her vows, "Yeah, I have a secret." She snapped, meeting him in the 'eye', "I used to have everything. A house, an enjoyable job, a loving family - I once was written about in papers and had everything any kid ever wanted."
The woman paused as her guilty memories were rewinded back to her,
"But I lost it, I lost everything. All because of one screw up. I lost contact with my family, I rented the cheapest apartment I could find, I worked two full-time jobs and lost all faith in myself. All because I broke my leg at the end of an ice skating tournament when I was 16."
The three men stared back at her absently, at a loss for words.
"But you know what happened?" She said, perking up, "I decided to leave it all behind, go on vacation, visit the newly announced 'Astrocitizen Program.' And now, here I am: stuck in the middle of space with three guys that I've barely met with an impossible chance for survival."
"...But you know what? Somehow, I feel better than I have in years. I have friends again, I have an unpredictable future, action, an unknown purpose, and best of all - I have faith in myself again." She spun to Tom with a spark of life present in her eyes.
"...But enough about me, what about you, Thomson?" She announced, without waiting for any response, "What do you have to confess?"
The brunett could only gaze at her, wide eyed, as he hesitantly tapped two fingers along his jawline. Baby and Emmet didn't dare cut in, they only watched attentively as they slowly sipped their last spoon-fulls of soup.
"Before I came to the program..." He paused, his voice suddenly soft and distant.
"...I was nobody... All my life, I wanted to be different, I wanted to see things nobody else has seen. Do things no one else has done. I tried out many jobs in my young years, hoping that one day, I could make something out of myself."
The middle aged man gazed into the remaining soup left in his can, lost in thought, "I read books about explorers and dare devils, hoping to one day know what their lives were like..." He trailed once more, before his voice flared up again.
"...And now, this is my chance. Our chance, to make something of ourselves. We might be stuck here with the barest chance for survival, but we're alive. Against all odds. We might as well try make something out of this mess, right?"
"Exactly," Deedee stated, "The last thing we need now is more disagreements and drama. If we're going to get through this, we'll get through this together. Even if we die trying."
Emmet set his food down with a clank, "Become better versions of ourselves and finally be recognized and useful? Sounds like a plan."
"And put our pasts behind us." Baby chimed in with a grin.
Life on the shuttle didn't seem so dim for a change.
...
Unfortunately, Tom's inspiring speech could only motivate them for so long.
Days flew by, until the air in the bunker continuously grew heavier and hotter until it was almost unbearable. Deedee was out of ideas, assuming this was her punishment for the mask incident eight days ago.
Their food supply had declined rapidly over the coarse of five days, leaving them currently with... two cans. No signals sounded from the communicator, leaving them stranded and quest-less once again.
"I think now would be a great time to fix that damn generator..." Tom grumbled through clenched teeth, reaching the limit on his patience, "Just hurry up and fix it already! I feel like I'm back being a medic for a group of professional camel theives in the Gobi desert - and I sure as hell don't miss it!"
At this point, Deedee couldn't be sure if he was lying or telling the truth.
Emmet and Baby weren't looking any better, hunched over in their seats with sweat pouring down their flushed faces. They were already panting feverishly, which couldn't be a good sign.
The captain knew the oxygen starvation would have side effects. She cursed herself for overlooking it for so long. All because she didn't want to risk wasting a roll of duct tape three days earlier.
"I would, if only I knew how." She slurred roughly into her palm, "Do I have any volunteers?"
Baby jerked up in his seat, "I... might be able to help... kinda." He didn't sound nearly as confident as he looked. Deedee hesitated. "I'll do it." Emmet breathed from beside her, "I have a bit of experience, being scientific and all... That, and we can't risk killing anyone by any... explosions. It won't be pretty..."
The brawny man next to him sunk back in his chair, clearly feeling left out and useless in comparison. Dawkins' drained expression vanished once she realized.
"I think I'll give Bronco a chance on this one." She replied to her bright minded friend. He frowned dryly as the woman approached his polar opposite. The redhead shot up from his seat happily, glad to oblige.
The oxygen generator sputtered uselessly in the corner of the ship. Baby cracked his knuckles experimentally as he prepared to "fix" it. Tom lazily watched, intrigued, while Emmet could only shield his eyes, anticipating the worst.
"Ok - just remember we're trying to fix it, not destroy it. If it breaks, there's a high chance we'll suffocate to death." Deedee explained carefully, eying his uneasy expression.
Bronco recoiled a bit at the advice, looking at his curled fists with a gulp, "...got it." He assured, mostly to himself than to the captain. The bulky young adult took a slow step back, like a pitcher during a baseball game, before batting an arm directly at the machine.
Everyone froze as the device spurred dangerously alive and choked out several clouds of smoke. Sparks flew as it rocked back and forth like a punching bag. In one heart-stopping moment of suspense, Baby thought he had ruined everything and they only had a few minutes left of oxygen to live.
Miraculously, it began to patiently whir back to life. A fresh gust of satisfying, icy air hit them all like a tidal wave. They gulped it down greedily.
"I'm sorry, but how in the hel- heck - did you know that would work?" Deedee stammered in disbelief.
Baby offered a sheepish smile, "I... uh, that's how I used to fix broken stuff at my home all the time!" He claimed, rubbing the back of his neck, "Pa taught me how. We lived in a sorta bad place where things were always breakin'. My parents got sick of dealin' with it after awhile and made me do it instead."
"...So they told you that punching was a way to fix things?" Emmet inquired with a look of confusion. "Well... yeah, they told me that punchin' could fix alot of things..." The former criminal replied, an odd look in his eyes.
Emmet glanced at him suspiciously, processing his words, "...I hope those 'things' didn't just happen to have pulses..." Baby's monobrow shot up, "Oh, of course not! We didn't use punchin' to do that, if we did, it'd get messy... We had plenty of other stuff-"
"Ok, I've heard enough."
Deedee glanced reluctantly at the shelves, unaware that she was already knawing at the lining of her glove. Tom noticed her obvious stress and scoffed, "You know you have to send someone out eventually. We have plenty of supplies, just give someone a gun and armor..."
He realized it might not be the soup stock she was worried about, and pondered a bit, "What are you so afraid of? No secrets, remember." It was meant to be a tease, but it didn't sound like one.
The blonde spoke quiet so the others wouldn't overhear, "We've come too far to lose anyone now. It's so risky to send someone outside alone, especially with the clan that's after us. It will be too easy to kill us off one by one..."
"But sitting here waiting for everyone to starve isn't exactly going to help, is it?" Tom cocked an eyebrow for emphasis, "Neither is recycling all the other items to replace what we don't have. You've gotta have faith in us. We can defend ourselves..." He glanced over his shoulder at Emmet's scrawny form, "...well, most of us, anyways..."
"Don't think we can't hear what your talking about over there." A certain dark-skinned crewmate snapped, glaring in his direction, "Maybe if you talked it out with all of us, we can figure something out."
Deedee nodded tiredly, letting out an exasperated sigh, "We'll have to decide who goes out tommarow. It has to be someone with the the lowest chance of dying to the storm or the soviets. But for today... I think we all deserve a break."
...
"Are you sure I should go there of all places?"
Baby asked, trembling nervously on his feet. He was pointing fearfully at the pentagram hazard for the temple, looking not unlike a cheap, knock-off brand toy soldier with the bulky purple armor he was wearing.
Deedee frowned as she turned away to toss a newly crafted soup in the pantry.
Her muscley friend's fingers coiled around the butt of his weapon and he kept on self consciously itching the stubble hidden beneathe his mask.
"It's the only place ASTRO can find with available chemicals. The swamp is likely sucked dry of it's resources by now, so that's no longer an option. All we need to find now is food." The captain declared regretfully.
She stared at the ginger brokenly, about to tell him something else when Tom butted in, "Just try not to come back half dead like last time."
Baby forced himself to stand upright, strapping down the rest of his ratty armor before responding lowly, "Ok... I'll try."
But before he could slip out the door and into the endless flurry of sand, Emmet shot up, "Are you sure I shouldn't go instead? I've learned plenty about Earth's climate and weather patterns in books, maybe this place isn't much different?"
Bronco didn't look too willing to object, clearly afraid of what layed outside but still determined to help his crew. "But the soviet squad's out there. And we all got to see how you reacted to them last time..." Dawkins pointed out, recalling how he hid behind his chair the whole time like a coward.
Ellis looked offended, "That was different, I was the first one to get shot at!"
"Ok fine, it doesn't matter. We just need to find food." The woman said, sick of disagreeing with everyone all the time. She idly glanced at her other crewmember's contemplative appearance, "What do you think, Baby?" She cringed slightly as she mentioned his ironic name.
He hummed in response, somewhat considering before shaking his head, "I'll go. Just so I can teach those soviet freaks a lesson if they wanna show up again." His tone was, for once, fitting for his hulking form.
He fastened his mask tighter to his jaw before opening the airlock. Winds screeched by as the storm persisted, but fell silent once the door slammed back shut.
With that, he was gone.
...
Captain Dawkins found her mind wandering back to the first day her and her crew had stranded themselves on the dead desert-like planet. It was only 16 days ago, but it felt like ages.
Today was almost same situation as then: Baby was gone, Tom and Emmet were stuck as her slaves, or rather, she was stuck as theirs, and the sky had a strange dark hue to it. One that they had never seen at any time before. Blots of red and black that only appeared when the yellow light faded away.
Previously, her team was completely clueless. The memory of being stuck with the arrogant, untrustworthy Tom and defiant Emmet for four straight days wasn't a fond one. That was back when she couldn't trust either them enough to send them out. That, or insubordinance - as the ship's AI called it.
So instead, she took advantage of Baby's loyalty. (If his "ok" morale counted as loyal in that case.) She found herself regretting it later, feeling like it was her fault that he came back halfway dead. She could only hope it wouldn't happen again...
The instant she woke, the ache in her jaw hit the captain like a train wreck. Or more preferably, like a baseball bat to the head. She forced herself from her chair painfully and grabbed ASTRO's early announcements:
'Captain, you seem to have been neglecting your oral hiegene for awhile now. Currently, you have a tooth that's infected. If you don't fix it, I'm afraid the matter will only get worse. And based on what I've seen with you fragile humans, a tooth infection can kill you faster than starvation or dehydration can. (Which makes me feel grateful that I'm not one.) Luckily, we just happen to have a bottle of aneste(TEEK) in the shelves that can help with its removal. Will you require an assistant for this procedure?'
"What!? Oral hiegene? Did we have tooth brushes here this whole time?" Tom abruptly blabbered from behind her, startling Deedee back to her senses. His lone eye snapped to a cup next to the monitor, containing four of the dentistry devices, "What else do we have? Shampoo? Deodorant? Razors? Q-tips!?" "Wait, we have tooth brushes?" Emmet jolted up, confused, "It's been 27 days and you're just now telling us?"
Deedee furrowed her brows at ASTRO's AI module, wadding up all of it's useless papers, "I didn't know either, and now I'm stuck with this... jaw cancer..." She sighed heavily, leaning back against the rusted wall. "Well, I'm sure we all are at this point." Tom commented, self consciously licking his yellowing teeth.
"Maybe if we had the option to bring the mechanic on board, she could've re-invented a few things. She'd be like Emmet, but actually useful." He snorted, "Hey, Ellis? Why don't you try building us some stuff?"
"I can, but it takes alot of materials and resources to work with. The only way I can is to deconstruct each item we have, which breaks the game's rules." Emmet replied, winding an overgrown lock of hair around his finger.
Deedee was about to announce the rest of ASTRO's banter, but Tom's loud mouth struck up once more, "Gee, we could really use some scissors... you and Blondie look like you're growing mops over there."
"Oh thanks, it feels like one too." The woman responded sarcastically, while Emmet merely groaned. "Now who wants to help me with this stupid tooth? I'm not going to let this of all things, kill me."
Both of her friends exchanged glances in obvious disgust. "Just tie the damn thing to a doornob and yank it out, it's not too hard." Tom encouraged, swinging an arm for emphasis. Deedee held her jaw and cringed at the gesture.
"...Well... I found this bottle of 'anesthetic', it might help with the-" Tom instantly shot up, "Oh! Then I'm the perfect man for the job! No worries!" He was about to snag the substance from her hands, but she snapped it away.
"Oh, so now you want to help." She mocked, jiggling the bottle teasingly.
Then she paused, somewhat considering, as she met his pleading eye. She knew if she didn't do the procedure right, the pain would be intense... very intense.
...and she heard Thomson mention that he was once a veterinarian...
With a frown, she attempted to negotiate, "...I'll let you have some, but only if you help me painlessly remove this infection. Got it, mister former animal specialist?"
"Got it." The man answered with a smug smile.
...
Baby marched through the sandy showers, spotting the faint siluette of the temple looming in the distance. He was almost there. So close. Barely thirty paces away. This time, he would make sure to make his team proud.
Breathing carefully through his mask, as to not accidentally suck in a lungful of sand (again...) Bronco trudged confidently up the mountain. When he broke through the doorway, he expected to find a luxury of chemicals or rocks and maybe even a few armfuls of soup.
But after he blinked the grain out of his stinging eyes, he found...
...nothing. Nothing but dust and a couple more piles of dirt. An empty corridor.
His cloudy green eyes jumped awake in panic. What would he tell his crew? What would they think? How would they react to him coming back empty handed? He ran his hands through his messy red hair to calm himself. Maybe he could find supplies on the way back. Then he paused, remembering what happened last time because of his 'bright ideas.'
Faintly, he heard a small clatter echo at him from deeper in the temple. Impulsively, he snapped his head to face it, and his eyes met the gaze of at least ten other beings standing where he had been seconds prior. Looking closer, he noticed the familiar space suits, the human faces that greeted his team two days ago.
The color vanished from Baby's face, his hands left his head to grip the handle of his weapon. He whipped it from his pocket and drew it at them threateningly. It was an ambush. That's what his parents used to shout when the bad guys popped up during jobs. He remembered hearing it once when police sirens rang through the alley and Papa gripped his hand so hard it bruised.
He lurched backwards just in time to avoid a blast from a gun. His feet slipped out from under him, but he managed to catch himself right in time to duck from another shot. He aimed his weapon again, despite how outnumbered he was in a comparison of 1 to 11. Most of the soviets already had him in their sights, it would be impossible for him to dodge all of their attacks at once.
But he decided to try regardless. The moment his finger squeezed the trigger, he was taken back to hearing his Pa's raspy chuckle, as he brandished his favorite pistol at him as if he were to shoot. All those years ago. Back when he was just a kid. The rugged man handed the weapon to him with that scary smile he always wore when he tried to look trustworthy. It never did.
Baby remembered the smoothness of the cool silver in his small hands. It was in the perfect condition for another job, before it would be destroyed and replaced with another that looked just like it. "Always remember to destroy the evidence." Pa's haggard voice advised as he tossed that same pistol and a pair of boots into a fire. The fire of a house that was slowly burning down. The fire Baby had caused.
The boy could only watch as the place began crumbling down, staring with wide, hypnotized eyes. He remembered Pa wrapping his strong arm around him and laughing. "You'll get used to it one day, kid."
The gun went off. Instead of the bullet scewering the wall behind Pa's shocked face like he remembered - A powerful explosion of light and fire bursted from the barrel. It showered the men in a menacingly hot blast - Baby could hardly process what happened. He only realized that the other guns had fired when an indescribable pain tore into his right thigh.
He barely noticed his gun as it slipped from his hands. A howl of agony erupted from his throat and he crumpled to his knees. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt. He yanked his knee up to his chest, rolling backwards in a desperate attempt to escape his atttackers. A moment later, he found himself tumbling down a set of stairs. The planet's strange pull of gravity was no help to him, harshly yanking him back to the ground everytime he bounced away.
He remembered Ma. The way she wore her curly auburn hair on her shoulders and the cigarette or wine glass she always held in a hand. He remembered being hoisted into her lap and smelling the thick scent of perfume and smoke.
"Hush... don't you worry, little Bronco." She cooed to him while he was crying during a mission. She tilted his head up with a delicate hand, "Once we get home, we can pretend none of this ever happened." He tried to, but it was hard to forget when they kept on going back.
Occasionally, she would snap. Become angry, nasty, scary, just like Papa did. They were too similiar. They would break things, shout, fight, curse, slur - for the smallest of reasons. Baby never understood why. He still didn't.
Once the miserable rolling stopped, the man drowsily came back to his senses, attempting to stand back to his feet. He slowly turned his head, finding the communists looking down at him from the top of the stairway. He was unsure if his gun did any damage to them, but now, he found himself too drained to care.
Once the spinning in his head dulled, he peered towards the hazy horizon. And once he gathered his bearings, he ran.
...
The blonde winced as the bloody tooth was jerked out of her mouth by a string tied to the handle of a cabinet. "See, I told you it wasn't such a bad idea." Her assistant said with a chuckle. The empty feeling and numbness in the back of Deedee's throat told her otherwise.
By the time she processed the damage and fought through the aneste(TEEK's) ditzy side effects, Tom was already halfway done chugging the bottle. She stumbled forward, snatching the substance from his hands before he could react.
"We need to save it for emergencies!" She blurted out in frustration, "At least try to consider sharing some with the rest of us!" The former athlete already knew why he was so desperate to drink it, she wouldn't be surprised if he used to be an alcholic or drug addict back on Earth.
"Ah, that hit the spot..." The man shamelessly drawled, already swaying on his feet. Dawkins was about to spit her anger at him again, but held her tongue, "Thank you for helping me, regardless. I... don't think I could've done it all by myself. In a way, you could use that drug portion as a..." She grimaced, "...reward..."
Thomson saluted drunkenly, smirking as he waddled back into the bunker. He slid over to meet Emmet's startled form, "Whatcha lookin' at pal...?" He questioned awkwardly, "Wish ya coulda got some o' the stuff too, huh?"
"Uh... is he ok?" The black man asked, eying both of his teammates in confusion. "Er...Let's just say I wouldn't ever want him to be my dentist..." Deedee stated, her mentioned friend merely snickered, "I'll take that as a compliment~" He hovered dangerously over the communication system before slipping on it and toppling over. He landed flat on his face, completely limp and unresponsive.
"...And... that's why." Deedee concluded, facepalming in disbelief.
...
"I think something's wrong."
Emmet called from the window, staring aimlessly into the empty desert outside. He had been standing there for awhile. "What makes ya say that, small fry?" Tom crooned from his dizzy high, only half awake but still under the drug's influence. Somehow, he seemed even more like an annoying uncle in his current state.
"I heard... gunshots, I think. I don't know, maybe it's just paranoia..." Ellis muttered in response, eyelids flickering wearily. "...You're right." Deedee suddenly spoke up, "It's been too quiet."
"Foreshadowing, perhaps?" Tom chortled, picking at his teeth.
"I'll craft an extra mask for tommarow, so one of us can go out to check." The captain declared, ignoring her comrade's quirky comments. "Wouldn't that be breaking the game's rules?" Emmet replied nervously.
"The 'game' doesn't know that. Plus, it's broken enough as it is. We have to at least try." Deedee said matter-of-factly, "We all got to see what happened to him last time, and I don't want it to happen again."
She frowned at the memory of Baby's harsh, hacking coughs and nearly infected injuries. The way his chalk-white face contrasted with his blood-red hair. It wasn't something she wanted to see again. She plopped a set of chemicals in the crafting module as she promised.
When the ship's lights flickered off, Thomson slithered back in his seat, relishing in his mindless, temporarily drugged euphoria. He felt something solid prick at his back and winced. Inspecting the odd disturbance, he discovered something he thought was just an impossible hallucination.
+ Fully Upgraded Gas Mask.
...
The captain strapped the newly crafted mask to her face, gazing at the airlock with uncertainty. "Are you sure it's a good idea to go out there alone?" Emmet inquired, eying her anxiously, "If you die, this all ends, remember last time?" The woman nodded, but didn't look fazed, "Like I said before," She claimed, "I'm not breaking any promises."
"What's the tape and artifact for then?" The dark-skinned man pointed out, gesturing to the items hidden in her suit collar. The woman smiled half-heartfully, "The tape's for fixing my problems and the artifact is just for good luck." She took a step towards the door, about to enter the relentless sandstorm, just as Baby did a few days before.
"We can wait another day, right? Make another extra mask so you can take me or Tom along. That way we have a better chance of surviving and searching for Baby." Emmet spoke up in an insistant ramble. "You know we can't last any longer with our soup supply empty like this. Like Tom said, we have no other choice but to starve." He heard from the doorway.
Ellis was about to object once more, but before he knew it, she was already gone.
He sunk back in his tattered chair, drumming his fingers on the arm rest restlessly. That's what he used to do back when he sat alone in his classroom. Waiting for his next group of students to slide in the door, slump boredly in their seats, and gaze into space once he started giving lectures.
He would watch some, amused, when they doodled mindlessly on their chalkboards instead of listening. Then he'd tap a finger on their desk to get their attention. "Hey, Johnny? What's the chemical formula for water?" He asked one of them once, the freshman stammered a random answer, unaware of the one that was written clearly on the board. Emmet could only sigh in dissapointment.
Once he sat down, he always found himself getting lost in his thoughts. Staring out the window, thinking about his childhood and college years, wondering about his future... "Are you ok, Mr. Ellis?" A student asked him one day, a smaller boy with big round glasses. The man looked at him and smiled, readjusting the silver watch on his wrist, "I'm fine." He said, "Just a little tired today, that's all."
The sour sweet memory served as a reminder to him that some of his students really did care. That one in particular reminded Emmet of himself when he was in school. Small, smart, vulnerable. Too vulnerable...
"...I guess it's just you and me, Tom..." He spoke under his breath, reminding himself that he wasn't alone in the shuttle. But no response came. Not even a completely off topic joke uttered from the darkness. "...Tom?" The former chemistry teacher tried again. Still nothing. It was then he saw that all the other seats were completely empty, without a clue of anyone else in sight.
Emmet darted to the bunker's window, brown eyes searching the sandy abyss for anything - anyone. Instead, he found that he was absolutely alone.
...Just like back in his empty old classroom.
...
Baby couldn't remember how long it had been since the encounter in the temple. All he knew was that he was chased into a cave by the communists and his gun was nowhere to be found.
His bleary memory could hardly recall the moment he heard the men's footsteps approaching from the cave's entrance - before slowly, but surely, sulking away.
It was impossible for him to sleep after that. Or, at least, he could only manage a few minutes, at most. In the meantime, he quietly farmed for rocks to bring back to his crew. Any abrupt crack of a mineral that hit the ground jolted him back to attention. Until he realized he was still alone in the darkness, and continued.
The throbbing in his leg only got worse as time passed. He assumed it was caused by two lucky bullets that hit him and seared through his pantleg. The blood was still dripping and seeping further down his knee, which couldn't be a good sign. Neither was the sudden dizziness he felt every time he stood to his feet. Regardless, he was lucky that his armor was able to deflect most of the attacks. If not, his condition would be alot worse.
Baby desperately wanted to return to his friends. He yearned to hear their voices and reunite with them safely back on the ship. But if the bad guys found him, he doubted he could outrun them again. They could be anywhere in the storm, they could be waiting outside for all he knew.
Hours ticked by, until the burly man was sure he had waited long enough to go back to the shuttle. His stomach gurgled determiningly at the thought of finding food outside, while his heart beat mercilessly in fear of unknown.
His team would be looking for him, he knew. If he took too long... they would think he died. The ginger's face paled at the thought. That was the reason the captain was so afraid of sending anyone out. He needed to go back. He needed to make sure they knew he was alive.
With that in mind, he begrudgingly stood to his feet. He flinched as his leg spasmed in agony at the action, but he forced himself forwards anyway. Go North. He reminded himself dazily, North is where the others are waiting.
The howling of the wind muted all else as he pushed on through the endless sand. Bronco couldn't tell if it was the storm or his own mind that was making it hard to focus.
He trudged on, hoping he wouldn't get lost in the mess of whisping wind. His attention began to waver as his journey dragged on. He could swear there were hazy figures wandering in front of him. The redhead blinked, shook his head, and when he looked up, they were gone.
He frowned, guessing that it was his muddled mind playing tricks on him. Then, the figures appeared again. Only this time, they became the members of his crew. Searching for him. A dim lantern-like lighter set ablaze in the captain's hands.
"Baby! Where are you!?" He heard her shout against the wind ...or was it the wind...? "Are you out there!? Say something!"
The bulky man shook his head, trying to snap himself out of the hallucination, if it even was a hallucination. But they were still there. He squinted at them, trying to make out the shapes of the silluettes. ...Since when did they learn how to craft expedition helmets...?
"...I'm... I'm right here!" He boomed suddenly, waving his arms despite the risks of enemies nearby, "I'm here...!" He took no notice of his voice beginning to slur. He bounded towards them, twitching every time his right foot hit the ground.
Their faces and voices began to distort, catching him off guard. He froze, gazing at them with clouded green eyes, confused. The supposed "Deedee" pointed a gun at him with no hesitation.
"Hey, it's me!" He held out his hands sluggishly, "It's ok, Dee..." His eyes grew, watching as his team's faces marred into those unrecognizable. Their expressions were unforgiving and on their helmets marked a signature red star. A bullet bounced off of his armor, proving his horrors to be true.
Oh no... He jerked backwards as he heard another gun go off, the bullet missing his head by a hair. No! He scrambled in the other direction, pushing the route to the ship in the back of his mind.
...
Gunshots.
Deedee's head snapped in the direction they came from. Up the hill. Or was it somewhere to the left...?
More gunshots.
In front of her. Towards the cave.
Not wasting a second on wondering how she could defend herself, she bolted towards it. Using her athletic skills to her advantage. Once she made it over the ridge, she saw them. Ten communists chasing something running desperately away with an injured limp. The hint of orange was all she needed to know who it was.
With a fresh burst of energy, Deedee sprinted forward. The men were gaining on her friend fast, and his tattered armor could only last against the hammering bullets for so long.
"BLAM. BLAM. BLAM." Her eyes darted to a new figure ahead of her. Something that wore a perfect set of albino armor and a full mask that obscured it's facial features. It was shooting at the soviets, seemingly trying to distract them - or kill them. She could hardly believe it.
Her attention was snapped back as she realized, in horror, that the enemies were only a few paces away from Bronco. She was barely ten feet apart from them by now, all she had to do was... her thoughts were stripped from her as her eyes bugged in terror.
"B-Baby! Turn around!" She didn't intend for the words to slip from her lips, but they did, regardless. Everyone's gaze landed on her, including the childlike giant's. His terrorfied and bewildered, yet rugged, appearance was scarred into her memory.
Right as they made eye contact, the other being tackled him straight into the ditch Dawkins tried to warn him about. She noticed how they somehow narrowly dodged a well-aimed bullet by the action. But they only did so by putting their lives in double jeopardy. The blonde flew to the ledge of the great abyss, searching for them, praying that they were still alive.
Baby grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut as a whole new wave of pain wracked through his leg. He attempted to blink the blurriness from his vision, just so he could stare wonderously at his rescuer, who wore a fully upgraded face mask.
He could swear it was trying to tell him something, but his attention began to fail him again. He found himself lost to reality, head lolling sideways and eyes rolling pa-
A gloved hand roughly slapped him in the face, waking him from his trance. Baby blinked blearily, hearing more gunshots crack distantly through the air. "We need to go! Get up now, we don't have much time!" It was Tom's voice, and he sounded urgent... "Hurry up, they'll find us at any second!"
Yet another blast pierced a hole in the ground next to him, jolting him awake. He sat up, mind fuzzing as he felt someone else at his side. "Deedee!? What the hell are you doing here!? You'll blow our cover!" The man in the mask squealed in shock. The captain.
She was real, this time. He could feel her hands grazing his leg, examining the untreated bullet wounds. With a short gasp of surprise, she tore a roll of tape from her collar, winding it carefully around his injuries.
"Are you ok?" She asked, he vaguely felt her touching his face, looking him straight in his unfocused eyes. The moment was all-too-familiar. He knew better than to lie in his current state. Instead, he said nothing.
A shot whizzed past Dawkins' shoulder before anyone could react. It tore right into the flesh of Tom's left arm. He bit back a shriek, stumbling backwards as blood gushed freely. The bullet hit an artery. He quickly realized. Baby yelped, stepping back in petrified fright.
"The tape." Tom rasped at the captain, eye wide, "Give me the ta-"
Just like that, the soviets were on them, their guns drawn. Thomson didn't hesitate tearing out his own weapon, opening fire on all of them, but to his horror, it jammed. Only mustering a feeble clicking noise.
Right as it sounded, three more precisely-aimed bullets sheared straight through his arm. A sickening crunch cracked through the quiet air. Baby could only stare, speechless, as he shrunk himself further in a corner. While Deedee stood, frozen, the tape her teammate ordered still clasped between her trembling fingers.
The sound of something wet slapping against the rocky ground was next. Then, the coppery scent of blood. Tom's eye was glassy, distant - almost unbelieving. He swayed on his feet, like he had the day prior after he greedily chugged down ASTRO's anesthetic. This was completely different.
Unpredictably, he plucked the remaining tape from his captain's limp hand. He wasn't looking at her, rather past her, going into shock. Suddenly, his knees buckled from under him, it was only then Deedee realized that he was teetering on the edge of the cliff.
It happened so fast. She leaped forward, outstretching a hand to grab his collar - but instead... grabbed nothing. Bronco barely caught her from slipping off the edge, determined to save her from following the same fate. The woman could only watch, helplessly, as her friend fell into the empty blackness. She wanted to say something, but all that came out was a broken choke.
Baby tugged her back to safety, eyes glazed in his own mental turmoil. He tried his best not to accidentally glance at Tom's disembodied arm laying in a pool of red beside him. Deedee attempted to look in his direction, but instead, she found the barrel of a gun pointed directly at her head. It hadn't fired yet, as if hesitating. Reminding her it wasn't over.
She felt a hand prod at her collar, but she didn't dare move a muscle. The men started muttering things in Russian, idly conversing among themselves despite the fact they just secondarily murdered someone only moments ago. A new feeling of hatred boiled in Dawkins' gut. She managed the courage to face them, seeing the beings gathered around the golden cow artifact she had brought with her.
For good luck. She recalled herself saying to Emmet. The communists had put their guns away, and looked far less threatening than earlier. But before her befuddled mind could process what was happening, they already started walking away, taking the artifact with them.
The blonde finally looked towards Baby, who was twisting his hands in a mix of anger and disgust, clearly upset, "Th-Th-They killed him..." He rumbled, his voice beggining to slur, "...and they're jus'...they're just gonna walk away like that?"
The strange look in his eyes during insanity had returned, Deedee couldn't tell if it was deliriousness from blood loss or not. He gazed at her, as if awaiting her permission. Like a vicious hunting dog ready to kill. She hesitated, before she discovered the limb and scattered blood behind him.
...then nodded with a look poisonous enough to kill.
...
Once their journey back to ths shuttle began, the two were completely silent. Baby kept restlessly wiping his hands on his armor, eager to get the red stains away. Trying to pretend it didn't happen.
Deedee continuously snuck peeks at him, noticing his fluttering eyes, wobbling legs, slumped posture - he looked like he was on the verge of collapsing at any moment. But he didn't. At least not yet.
The former athlete decided to distract herself from her worries, inspecting the strange diagram her comrade had discovered on the soviets. Russian words were written at the top, and three triangles were drawn. One of them had a checked-off box labled next to it, while the others were empty.
"Do you have any idea of what these drawings could mean?" She spoke, breaking the unforgiving silence, "It looks like it was copied from somewhere. Drawn, I think."
Baby squinted at the paper, mind buzzing, "I think I saw some... triangle-ish buildings back by the swamp that looked kinda like that..." He mumbled, his attention slowly venturing back to his feet rather than the captain.
The blonde rose a brow, "You mean pyramids?" The man only shrugged. Dawkins frowned, studying the paper a bit more. "It might be a puzzle... we should get it to Emmet. Maybe he can translate it for us."
Her friend merely hummed, shuffling his feet idly through the sand. Before long, they were almost back at the ship. Even so, every step her companion took was noticably weighing him down. He was lagging more and more behind as they went on.
"Are you sure you can keep going? We can always stop to rest, you know." The woman pointed out. The ginger huffed a reply, stubbornly shaking his head. But after a short moment of indecision, he shamefully droned, "I couldn't find anythin' at the Temple... I only found a few rocks from the cave, after bein' cornered by the soviets. They got there before I did - n' opened fire. That's where this," He gently patted his injured thigh, "came from."
Deedee grimaced, a mental image of the encounter flashing in her head. She eyed his suddenly quivering shoulders, "I should'a came back sooner, but I was afraid I'd drag e'm back with me. I wanted to deal with them myself, but... I was clumsy. I lost my gun... and my leg..."
The man's voice faltered, "And poor Tom, I-" He choked, "If I just came back - none of his would have happened." The captain swiftly caught him before he slipped off his feet. She strained under his weight as she helped him sit down.
"It's not your fault." She assured, rubbing a hand along his back, "I... I don't even know how he got out. Not to mention where he got a perfectly upgraded set of armor and a gun and mask!"
Baby said nothing, his focus lost to the musky desert setting whisping behind her. The star was slowly rising, tinting the dark sky back to a brisk, lemon yellow.
"It doesn't matter." The blonde continued, "We'd be dead right now if it wasn't for him. We have to survive. Not lose hope. That's... what he would've wanted." What would he have wanted? She began to wonder.
The limber blonde continued to stroke the redhead's back, comfortingly. Trying to ease his worries. Reminding him that he was safe again and no longer alone. She noticed the tears ripped in his uniform and how the ugly purple bruises marred on his usually smooth ivory skin.
The fatigue was visable on Bronco's weary face. His eyelids were drooping again, his previously hunched torso finally relaxed. Dawkins almost thought he would fall asleep right then and there.
"Do you think they deserved it?" He spoke out of the blue. Deedee was about to ask 'what?' but froze when she saw him staring brokenly at the blood still smeared on his gloves. She licked her teeth in uncertainty, "I... I don't know." She slowly answered, "But they attacked us first before when we meant no harm. We were only trying to protect ourselves. We couldn't risk someone else dying by their hands."
Baby faintly nodded, his half-lidded eyes were inspecting the ripples appearing and dissapearing in the sand. "That's what Ma' and Pa' used to do all the time. Because I helped e'm and did this..." He trailed, "Does that mean I'm no better than they are?"
That made Deedee think. "Not if you didn't know any better and thought they had good intentions..." She soothed, resuming her careful hand motions.
After a couple moments, the fog cleared and she spotted their shuttle sitting aimlessly in the distance. Hesitantly, she stood to her feet. Her brawny crewmate jerked to face her, the fear of being left behind present in his eyes. Noticing, she extended out a hand,
"C'mon, we can't keep Emmet waiting in the ship alone."
...
"He's... He's really gone?"
Ellis stammered, unsure of what to say. Normally, he wouldn't have been surprised. There were plenty of ways for them to die out there, but by communists of all things?
"We're not sure, but we saw enough blood to scar us for a life time." Deedee spoke miserably, removing the mask from her face, "The last thing he did before he slipped off the edge was take the tape." Her chemist set a hand to his chin, finding the news almost impossible to believe.
Baby hissed as the captain attempted to peel the bloodied tape from his leg. It was almost glued on at that point, and any pull at it burned like fire. The captain began to regret using the sticky side to innovate as an elastic bandage. She could already see how red and blistered the wound became because of it.
A half-empty bottle was slid towards the redhead, he peeked up, confused. Then stared at it tentatively. "Drink it and you'll feel better. It will help with the pain." He heard Dawkins say, a worrisome look present on her face.
She set the medical supplies on the table, making it clear that she was going to treat him wheither he liked it or not. Which meant stripping off every last strand of tape. His stomach queased at the thought. With one more uneasy glance at the medicine in front of him, he twisted off the cap and bravely downed it all in one gulp.
He gagged at the unpleasant taste. It reminded him of what Pa' used to make him drink when he wouldn't quit crying during jobs. Tangy, sour, strange... the stuff that lingered sickenly on his tongue. It wasn't a good memory.
The redhead layed back, watching his crewmates as an odd wave of drowsiness came over him. His captain unraveled a piece of paper from her suit collar, then offered it at Emmet. "Do you think you can figure out this puzzle? Baby found it in one of the Russians' bags before they... left."
The way she skimmed over their fate made the brawny man's stomach churn. "Russian? I might have learned a few words..." Ellis claimed, plucking the paper from her hands, "I haven't practiced in awhile, so it might be a bit off..." He began to sketch out the translations with a make-shift pen.
"Hey, there's... there's three towers down there, by that mountain," Bronco felt the need to blurt out, woozily pointing to some place past the window, "I only went o'er there once, but... it looks a'most jus' like that drawin' does there..."
It took him a minute to realize that his team was staring at him, almost amused. He lazily set a hand to his scruffy face, "Now that I think 'bout it... there's proba'ly more of those soviets out there," He scowled, "An' I'm beginn'in' to hate this place cuz of em..." He was getting annoyed at how heavy his tongue felt all the sudden. Then, he became entranced by his glove's weird design. Was it always that fuzzy?
Deedee tried to stifle a giggle, but failed. "We'll try to be careful next time, don't worry." She said, clicking open the box of medical supplies. As soon as her joy appeared, it vanished. "For now, just go to sleep so you don't feel any pain. We'll be fine as long as we stay here."
"What'a 'bout the triangles? Isn't one of us supposed ta' go out an' check on e'm...?" Baby asked, his eyelids fluttering as he fought the side effects of the medicine. The captain paused at the thought. "I'll... have to think about it."
Bronco frowned, faintly knowing that it was his fault she was afraid. All because he messed up. He always messed up. "...'m sorry..." He mumbled, unaware that the apology even slipped from his lips.
Dawkins' face softened sympathetically, but she said nothing. She watched as he sleepily sunk his head in his arms, then went limp. She assumed he had finally gave in to the anesthetic, and reluctantly reached for his tape-bundled leg. "...Hey, Dee...?" She froze, seeing he had peeped open his eyes again, although semi-consciously.
"Hm?" The woman hummed, bringing her hand back to her side.
The ginger looked contemplative, distracting himself by tapping his fingers idly on the table. "...Are you sure... we're all gonna en' up survivin'...? Ev'n after what happen'd to Tom...?" He slurred, his eyes growing more cloudy and distant as he continued.
"I haven't broke my promise yet," The woman declared firmly, "We're going to get through this. Even if it kills us." Baby tried to sputter out something else, but she gently shushed him, "We'll try our hardest to survive, don't worry. Even if we have to start going on expeditions all together to do it, we will."
A smile tugged at Bronco's lips, one that the captain hadn't seen in a long time. "That's jus' what I wanted to hear..." He bumbled. Wheither it was sincere or just deliriousness from the drug, Deedee couldn't tell.
The man buried his face into the crook of his arm, inhaling deeply. "...goodnight, Cap..." He purred absently, almost like a child who was just tucked in to bed.
...
"...Goodnight."
Notes: Here's more trivia notes for those curious or interested below.
-I like the idea of the events in the game having more of an impact on the story, as you can see here. Such as the communists, there are plenty of risks of sending your crew out.
And if they're unlucky, (which Baby Bronco definitely is) it can lead to a death trap.
-Also, the captain can go out to check on the crew outside because there's no realistic reason why they wouldn't, (other than the risk of dying, of course)
-The reason Tom randomly found the upgraded armor, gun, and mask was because of his "Hoarder" trait. That's why he collected so much stuff on his last expedition. In other words, he's God-like in this story.
-The part where Baby drinks the medicine and is reminded of his parents making him take drugs to calm down is a headcanon I stole off of Discord. It's too messed up not to include here.
-A reaccuring theme in this story is that ASTRO can't speak. That was intended because if it could speak, why would it print out daily messages for everyone to read?
-There's an event in the game that reveals that the shuttle has toothbrushes, which I find a bit hard to believe.
I hope you all enjoyed the suspense and action I sprinkled in for this chapter. Hopefully, the last parts make up for all the chaos that happened. Cause wow, there was alot.
What do you guys think will happen next? How do you think it will end?
Don't be afraid to leave your thoughts and rambles in the reviews!